Chapter XXV: Elizabeth Kenton, 428 (3)

The residence of Mrs. Combs, after her removal from the picketed station where she first lived in Kentucky, was on a farm about six miles from Boonesborough. The family suffered much from the depredations of the Indians who then infested the country from the Ohio to the Tennessee. Mrs. Combs’ riding horse was shot down under her eldest son while he and his father were on a trapping excursion within two or three miles of home. They did not return as soon as expected, and the mother was left alone in the cabin with two or three little children, a prey to the most agonizing apprehensions. It was through her industry and energy that her children were enabled to obtain a better education than was usual in the country in those days. This fact is mentioned in the inscription on her tombstone, which stands on the farm where they lived and died, alongside of that inscribed with the name of her husband, recorded as “a Revolutionary officer and a Hunter of Kentucky.”

NOTE.--See page 428.

IV.

CHARLOTTE ROBERTSON.

Charlotte Reeves was the second daughter of George Reeves and Mary Jordan, and was born in Northampton County, N. C., in January 1751. Her parents were poor in worldly possessions, and were able to give their children only a limited education; but they trained them to labor and habits of systematic industry, and in those strict principles which guided and preserved their parents through life, and made their example useful. Soon after the marriage of Charlotte with James Robertson, the young couple crossed the mountains and fixed their abode in one of the new settlements on the Watauga or Holston River.

In 1779, Robertson went with some others to explore the Cumberland Valley, leaving his family behind. They explored the country to the neighborhood of the spot where Nashville now stands, planted there a field of corn, and leaving three of the party to keep the buffaloes out of the corn, returned to East Tennessee for their families. The fame of the fertile Cumberland lands, the salubrity of the air, the excellence of the water, and the abundance of game of all sorts, was soon diffused through all the frontier settlements, and many took the resolution of emigrating to this land of plenty. Companies came and built cabins and block houses and in the latter part of February or first of March 1780, Mrs. Robertson left her home at the mouth of Big Creek on the Holston, for the purpose of joining her husband. Her party consisted of herself and four small children, her brother William Reeves, Charles Robertson her husband’s brother, her sister-in-law, and three little nieces, with two white men servants, a negro woman and her infant. These voyagers were conveyed in two of the small and frail flat-boats appointed to convey the families of emigrants to their new homes in the wilderness. Capt. James Robertson was to head the party travelling by land through Kentucky to the same point of destination, and driving the cattle belonging to the little colony; and had left home some weeks previously, with his eldest son, fourteen years of age. Those who went by water descended the north fork of the Holston, and proceeded down Tennessee River. The various difficulties they encountered, the perils and fatigues of this tedious and dangerous trip, were more numerous that it is now possible to detail. At the mouth of Duck River they expected to land and make their way through the wilderness to the “Cumberland County,” but the guides failing to meet them, they continued their voyage to the mouth of the Tennessee. At this point their difficulties were fearfully increased. The ice was just broken up in the Ohio, the water was rising, and the aspect of things appeared so discouraging to their pilot that he abandoned the enterprise in despair, and left the company to make their way in the best manner possible up the river, having to ascend against a rapid current, with clumsy and scarcely manageable boats, some two hundred miles. The emigrants were worn out and disheartened with the toil of the voyage already accomplished, the men were strangers to the navigation of the Ohio, which flowed for the most part through an unbroken forest, infested on either side with wild beasts and more merciless Indians; their lives seemed endangered at every step, and so dreary was the prospect, that about one half the company decided against pursuing the enterprise, bade adieu to their companions, and shoving their boats into the smooth current of the Ohio, sought homes for their families in Natchez. The others turned their bows up the river. Of Mrs. Robertson’s party only two men were left, her brother and brother-in-law. They lashed the two boats together; Mrs. Johnson, the widowed sister of Capt. Robertson, undertook to serve as pilot, and managed the steering oar, while Mrs. Robertson and Hagar, the African woman, worked at the side oars alternately with Reeves and Robertson. By this tedious and laborious progress, they made their way up the Ohio to the mouth of the Cumberland, and up the Cumberland to the point of destination, landing in the beginning of April at the site of Nashville.

Haywood, in his history of Tennessee, describes the voyage made by “The Adventure” and other boats, which, leaving the fort on the Holston the 22d of December, 1779, did not reach the “Big Salt Lick” till the latter part of April. An extract may give an idea of the perils of the expedition. In passing Indian villages on the Tennessee, the voyagers had been accosted by many of the savages with professions of friendship, designed to cover a hostile purpose.

“In a short time the crew came in sight of another town, situated on the north side of the river, nearly opposite a small island. Here also the Indians invited those on board to come on shore, calling them brothers, and seeing the boats standing to the opposite side, told the passengers that their side was the best for the boats to pass the island on. A young man on board the boat of Capt. John Blackmore, approaching too near the shore, was shot in the boat from the shore. Mr. Stewart had set off in a boat on board which were blacks and whites to the number of twenty-eight. His family being diseased with the small pox, it was agreed that he should keep at some distance in the rear. He was to be informed each night where the others lay by the sound of a horn. The foremost boats having passed the town, the Indians collected in considerable numbers. Seeing him far behind, they intercepted him in their canoes, and killed and made prisoners the whole crew. The crews of the other boats were not able to relieve him, being alarmed for their own safety, for they perceived large bodies of Indians marching on foot down the river, keeping pace with the boats, till the Cumberland mountain covered them from view. The boats were now arrived at the place called the Whirl or Suck, where the river is compressed into less than half its common width, by the Cumberland mountain jutting into it on both sides. In passing through the upper part of these narrows, at a place termed the Boiling Pot, a man of the name of John Cotton was descending the river in a canoe with a small family, and had attached it to Robert Cartwright’s boat, into which he and his family had entered for safety. The canoe was here overturned, and the little cargo lost. The movers pitying his distress, concluded to land and assist him in recovering his property. Having landed on the north shore at a level spot they began to go towards the place where the misfortune had happened, when the Indians, to their astonishment, appeared on the opposite cliffs, and commenced firing down upon them. The Indians continued their fire from heights upon the boats. In the boat of Mr. Gower was his daughter Nancy. When the crew were thrown into disorder and dismay, she took the helm, and steered the boat, exposed to all the fire of the enemy. A ball passed through her clothes, and penetrated the upper part of her thigh, going out on the opposite side. It was not discovered that she was wounded by any complaint she made, or a word she uttered, but after the danger was over, her mother discovered the blood flowing through her clothes.”

Reaching the mouth of the Tennessee the 20th of March, they parted with their companions who were discouraged from proceeding, and the Adventure, with the boats which accompanied her, went up the Ohio. “They made but little way on that day, and encamped on the south bank of the Ohio, suffering on that and the two following days much uneasiness from hunger and fatigue. On the 24th of March, they came to the mouth of Cumberland River, but its size was so much less than they had expected to find it, that some would not believe it to be the Cumberland. It flowed in a gentle current; they had heard of no river on the south side of the Ohio, between the Tennessee and Cumberland, and they determined to go up this as the Cumberland, and did so. On the 25th, the river seemed to grow wider; the current was very gentle, and they were now convinced it was the Cumberland. The crews were now without bread, and were obliged to hunt the buffalo, and feed on his flesh. On the 24th of April, 1780, they came to the Big Salt Lick, where they found Capt. James Robertson and his company, and where they were gratified at meeting those friends whom, but a little before, it was doubtful whether they should ever see again. They also found a few log cabins, erected by Capt. Robertson and his associates, on a cedar bluff, on the south side of the river, at some distance from the Salt Spring.”

For years after their removal the families of the settlement suffered many privations, and were compelled to live most of the time within the shelter of the forts, being subjected to ferocious attacks by the Indians. Two of Mrs. Robertson’s sons were murdered by the savages. It was indeed a constant scene of anxiety and danger to the close of the Indian war in 1794, and the frequent alarms, and incidents of persons being killed or wounded at or near the fort occupied by our heroine, gave her full experience of all the horrors of war. At one time she had the agony of seeing brought in from the adjoining woods the headless body of a beloved son; and it cannot be wondered at that she was heard to say in after life--she would not live those years over again to be insured the possession of the world.

“In the year 1782, and for several years afterwards, the common custom of the country was, for one or two persons to stand as watchmen or sentinels, whilst others labored in the field; and even whilst one went to a spring to drink, another stood on the watch with his gun ready to give him protection by shooting a creeping Indian, or one rising from the thicket of canes and brush, that covered him from view; and wherever four or five were assembled together at a spring or other place where business required them to be, they held their guns in their hands, and with their backs turned to each other, one faced the north, another the south, another the west, watching in all directions for a lurking or creeping enemy. While the people were so much harassed and galled by the Indians that they could not plant and cultivate their corn-fields, a proposition was made in a council of the inhabitants of the bluff, to break up the settlement and go off. Capt. Robertson pertinaciously resisted this proposition; it was then impossible to get to Kentucky; the Indians were in force upon all the roads and passages which led thither; for the same reason it was equally impracticable to remove to the settlements on the Holston. No other means of escape remained but that of going down the river in boats, and making good their retreat to the Illinois; and to this plan great obstacles were opposed, for how was the wood to be obtained with which to make the boats? The Indians were every day in the skirts of the bluff, lying concealed among the shrubs, privy and cedar trees, ready to inflict death upon whoever should attempt to go to the woods to procure timber for building a boat. These difficulties were all stated by Capt. Robertson; he held out the dangers attendant on the attempt on the one hand; the fine country they were about to possess themselves of on the other; the probability of new acquisitions of numbers from the interior settlements, and the certainty of being able, by a careful attention to circumstances, to defend themselves till succor could arrive. Finally, their apprehensions were quieted, and gradually they relinquished the design of evacuating the positions they occupied.”[9]

The following extract from a “Talk” from “The Glass,” a Cherokee chief, to Gov. Blount, dated “Look-out Mountain,” Sept. 10th, 1792, may show something of the state of feeling prevalent between the hostile parties.

“Codeatoy returned here from the treaty at Nashville, and tells us that Col. Robertson said there had been a great deal of blood spilled in his settlement, and that he would come and sweep it clean with our blood. This caused our young warriors to assemble together to meet him, as he told Codeatoy that the first mischief that should be done, he would come; and we knew of course it would not be long before something might happen, as there are Creeks daily going to that settlement; and as they expect to suffer for the doings of others, they resolved they would meet him, or go to the settlements and do mischief, as they were to be the sufferers, do it who would. But with the assistance of Bloody Fellow, John Watts, and some other head men, we have sent them to their different homes, and to mind their hunting, in hopes you will not suffer any of your people to send any more threatening talks. We took pity upon the innocent that might suffer on both sides, which undoubtedly would have been the case. As I have always listened to your talks, I hope you will listen to mine, and have peace.”[10]

Gov. Blount writes to Gen. Robertson, March 8th, 1794:

“Your letter of 6th Feb., sent express by James Russell, was handed to me much stained with his blood by Mr. Shannon, who accompanied him. Russell was wounded by a party of Indians who ambuscaded him about eighteen miles from South West Point, which he with difficulty reached, and was obliged to continue there for several days before he could be removed. He is now in the hands of a skilful surgeon, and it is hoped will recover. His fifty dollars have been dearly earned; but instead of complaining, he may rejoice that he has so often escaped.”[11]

In a letter from John McKee to “The Glass” and other chiefs of the lower towns of the Cherokee nation, he speaks of an expectation on their part that he would meet them on the middle ground for a “ball play.” This was a national game, by which parties sometimes decided their claims to disputed land. It was a manly sport often witnessed by assembled thousands.

The following description of the game is furnished by a gentleman of Nashville, who has lived among the Indians.

The contending parties always consist of twelve on a side--twenty-four in all, selected from among the most athletic men in the station. Each side is headed by one who is captain, or principal man. The ball used on such occasions was generally made of the common punk, obtained from the knots of trees, or some soft dry root, and is always covered with dressed buckskin, and about the size of a walnut. The ball is never to be touched with the hands, but is caught, held, and thrown with a set of sticks made expressly for the purpose. The ball stick is made of a piece of tough wood, about six feet in length, and the thickness of a small walking-stick, reduced one half in the middle, for about ten inches. The piece of wood is then bent till the ends are brought together, forming a bowl something like the bowl of a spoon, while the two strips of wood are wrapped together from the bowl to the ends with a leathern string, to make the handle; the bowl being finished with buckskin strings, fastened to the wood on all sides, and crossing each other, forming meshes like a fine seine, and left loose so as to bag a little. The ball-stick, when finished, was a spoon with a bowl about as large as a man’s hand, and a handle some three feet long. Each man is furnished with two sticks, which together would hold as much as a quart measure.

The playground is generally laid off east and west, and the two poles are placed from a quarter to half a mile from each other. The poles are two stakes put up about twenty yards apart, and the ball has to pass between these two stakes in order to count one in the game. Halfway between the poles a line is drawn; those who wish the ball to pass through the western pole, take their stand about twenty yards east of the centre line, and those in favor of the eastern pole take their position about the same distance on the west of the line. While the two captains take their stand at the division line, the ball is laid upon the ground, on the centre line. One of the captains takes it up with his sticks, and throws it up some thirty or forty feet; and then the game begins. The two captains, one in favor of the western, the other of the eastern pole, as the ball descends, contend for it, leaping as high as they can, while the sticks rattle and crash together; should these two be of equal strength and expertness in the game, the contention may be long and fierce, and it sometimes so happens that they struggle until perfectly exhausted, without the ball taking a start for either pole. At other times the ball is caught in its descent, and hurled with great rapidity towards one of the poles; but whatever direction it takes, it meets the opposition of eleven persons who have taken their stand in that direction, by some of whom it is sure to be caught and hurled in a different direction. I have seen the ball hurled back and forward in this way for minutes together. At other times I have seen the whole twenty-four contend pell-mell together for several seconds, while a spectator could not tell where the ball was. Again, I have seen the whole party take a right angular direction to the poles, in consequence of the hand being interrupted at the moment of throwing the ball, and thus work away entirely without the limits of the playground, until recalled by the judges.

There is no time for breathing, from the moment the ball is thrown up at the centre line, until it passes through one of the poles, unless the judges should call them off for the purpose of recess; and never have I seen human beings so much fatigued as at the end of one of these strains.

One thing which I have observed extremely objectionable in these plays, is this; any one of the party is allowed to _double up_ his antagonist, notwithstanding they are not permitted to strike, scratch, or bruise each other. The _doubling_ is done in the following manner: One will catch his antagonist, throw him upon his back, take him by the feet, elevate them, and press his head and shoulders upon the ground until the poor fellow is disabled in the back. This practice results sometimes in rendering the individual so helpless, that he has to be carried off the ground.

The only clothing carried into a ball-play, is the belt, with a piece of some kind of cloth about eighteen inches square, appended in front; but they generally come out of these plays, as far as clothing is concerned, about as they came into the world. There is always the same number in reserve that are engaged in the play, so that when one is disabled, another supplies his place, in order that the number, twenty-four, may be kept up. There are two sets of judges; six for and six against the western pole, take their position there; and in like manner at the eastern pole. The ball has to pass twelve times between the same pole, or stakes, before the game ends.

In 1794, Mrs. Robertson went on horseback into South Carolina accompanied by her eldest son, to bring out her aged parents, who had removed to that State with some of their children. They returned to Tennessee with their daughter, who was now able to offer them a comfortable home, and under her roof the remainder of their days passed in peace and comfort. Both lived beyond the eightieth year of their life, and had the passage to the grave smoothed by the devoted attentions of an affectionate daughter, and her equally devoted children.

At the period of most imminent danger to the settlement, Mrs. Robertson was often deprived of the support which kept the other women from despondency. Her husband was looked upon as the special protector of the infant colony, and had laborious duties to perform for its security and comfort. He was obliged every year to take the long and hazardous journey through the wilderness to North Carolina, for the purpose of attending the sessions of the Legislature, and using his utmost endeavors to have the aid of that body extended to the feeble and distant settlement on the Cumberland. This was done by Gen. Robertson for eight or ten years in succession, and while thus absent from home a great part of his time, he and his family were exposed to perils of various kinds, and obliged to remain ignorant for long intervals of each other’s condition. For fourteen years these trials, endured by Mrs. Robertson and her family, called for their utmost fortitude and energy to bear up under them, and under harassing anxiety for the fate of their absent guardian, exposed unprotected to the attacks of savage enemies.

On one occasion, Gen. Robertson and his eldest son, Jonathan, then nearly grown to manhood, went into the surrounding woods to see after some horses that had gone astray. The General had a led horse, and did not take his gun. They had scarcely entered the woods when they were fired on by five or six Indians who lay in ambush near the path. A ball passed through the young man’s thigh and entered his horse’s side; the father also received two balls, one fracturing the bones of his left arm just above the wrist, the other passing through the flesh of his right arm without injuring the bone. Jonathan’s horse, maddened by fright and the wound, became unmanageable, and plunged so violently, that fearing the animal might fall with him, and entangle him beyond escape, he raised himself in his stirrups and leaped to the ground, alighting on his feet. He then turned on the Indians, who rushed towards him, and prepared to fire, while the savages ran to the shelter of trees to protect themselves. One was behind a tree not large enough to screen his body, and young Robertson taking aim, fired at him; then hastened after his father, whose horse, released for the moment from the control of the bridle by the disabling of the rider’s hands, had dashed off furiously in a different direction from the fort. When the General heard his son shouting to him, he checked the animal, and the young man sprung on the back of the led horse, which had followed close on the heels of the other. The whole scene occurred within the hearing of the inmates of the fort, and as the fugitives were compelled to take a circuitous route to reach a place of safety, it may be imagined what were the feelings of the wife and mother during a prolonged period of fearful suspense, when the probabilities that her husband and son were murdered or captive, increased with every passing moment. The Indian Jonathan had shot, was found afterwards so badly wounded that he died in a few days. His gun and shot-bag were found secreted under a log near the tree, the bark of which had been scalped by the bullet.

A short time after Jonathan’s marriage, he determined on making a settlement on some land he had purchased, a mile or so from his father’s fort. He built a cabin, and commenced clearing the land; but was prevented by other occupations from continuing his work, and hired a man by the name of Hiland to carry it on. This laborer went to the place alone; but had been employed only a few days, when returning one evening from his work, he cut a large bundle of green cane, and was carrying it on his shoulder to his house; the rustling of this cane afforded a party of Indians a fair opportunity of coming up behind him without being perceived, and as he was in the act of throwing the cane over the fence, they shot him down and scalped him. Gen. Robertson, hearing of the occurrence, determined, if possible, to insure future security to the settlers by pursuing and cutting off these marauding parties, and issued an order to Capt. Thomas Murray, to raise a company of volunteers and overtake the Indians, or pursue them into the very heart of the nation. A detachment was raised; the settlers, anxious to strike a blow for their own security, joining in large numbers, and the pursuit was commenced with a hundred and ten mounted men. After a few days, the spies reported the Indians encamped on the Tennessee at the Muscle Shoals; the company attacked the camp, and several of the savages were killed, some making their escape, and two squaws being captured.

Young Robertson, meanwhile, was not discouraged from prosecuting his enterprise, but removed to his new place with his wife, and a negro named Ephraim. Determined to persevere in preparing the land and making a home for his family, he engaged two of his wife’s cousins, named Cowen, to assist him in his labors. They were all at work one day in the clearing, and were as usual summoned to dinner by a call from the house. They had stacked their arms against a large tree some fifty yards from the edge of the clearing, and between that and the house. It had been settled between them that in case of an attack by Indians, they should rush instantly to seize their arms, each take a tree, and make a stand against the enemy. On hearing the call to dinner, the men laid down their working implements, and stopped to push up the brush which had not been consumed into the brush-piles, not perceiving that several Indians had crept along under cover of the woods, and approached very near them. The moment they discovered the enemy, they sprang forward to secure their arms, while the savages, who had reached the edge of the clearing by the time the white men gained their weapons, rushed in pursuit. The directions previously agreed upon were observed, and each pioneer snatched his gun and sprang behind a tree. At the moment Robertson raised his gun, he perceived an Indian partly concealed behind another tree, and preparing to fire. His body projected far enough beyond the cover to afford a fair chance of hitting him; Robertson fired, and at the same instant the Cowens did also. This spirited defence alarmed the Indians; they began to retreat, and had disappeared in the cane before their foes could reload. Meanwhile poor Ephraim, who had a terror of gunpowder, could not stand his ground with the rest of the party, but hastened with all his speed towards the house; and when, after the flight of the enemy, the white men raised the Indian yell by way of a triumph note, the affrighted negro, rushing into the cabin, gave the inmates reason to suppose that all their friends were killed and scalped. This horrible fear, however, was soon dissipated by the appearance of the victorious settlers returning to the house. One of the Cowens was slightly wounded in the hand, and the rim of Robertson’s hat on one side was nearly severed from the crown by an Indian bullet, but no other injury had been received. This incident is worthy of notice, as the only instance during the period of the Indian troubles in which white men, fired on while at work in the field, made a stand, and succeeded in driving off the assailants. It was afterwards ascertained from the Indians that five of their number had been either killed or wounded so desperately that they died before reaching home. It should be mentioned that one of the pioneers used a British musket loaded with rifle bullets, and fired at a number of Indians together as they rushed into the thin cane bordering the clearing. It was believed the party of savages had numbered fifteen.

An instance of female heroism which occurred at a station some six miles west of Nashville, may be here related. Mrs. Dunham, the wife of one of the pioneers, while sitting in her house at work--her little children playing in the yard--heard them scream out suddenly, and rushing to the door, saw them running from several Indians. One of the savages was in the act of clutching her daughter, six or seven years of age, and succeeded in laying hold of the child, a few yards from the door. There were no men on the premises; but the mother seized a hoe standing against the house near the door, and rushed at the Indian with the uplifted weapon. Before she came near enough to strike him with it, however, he let go the child, who ran into the house, the mother following. The Indian pursued them closely, and pushed his gun into the door before it could be closed, to shoot Mrs. Dunham. She kept her hold of the door, and slammed it to violently, catching the gun between it and the door-post, and holding it with all her force, while the savage tried in vain to get the weapon released. She then, with singular presence of mind, called aloud as if to some person within, “Bring me that gun!” The Indian understood enough of English to know her meaning, and believing there were other persons in the house, he left his gun and made off. The other children had found shelter in the house, and were thus preserved from massacre by their mother’s energy and self possession.

Mrs. Dunham’s oldest son, Daniel--a boy nine or ten years of age--had a remarkable escape. He was out playing one day with two or three other boys a little larger than himself, and the youthful party carelessly wandered a short distance out of gunshot of the fort. They were observed by some Indians who resolved to take them prisoners. This was a more profitable business than killing them, as they could make useful servants of the captives, or obtain a large ransom for them from their bereaved friends. With this object, the savages left their guns, and crept stealthily as near the boys as the nature of the ground permitted them to do without being seen. As they rose upon their feet to spring forward and seize their prey, the boys saw them, gave a cry of alarm, and instantly started in a life and death race for the fort. Young Dunham, the smallest lad, was the hindmost, but he fled with the speed of a frightened fawn, closely pursued, however, his enemy gaining ground upon him, till just as he came within the range of protection from the fort, the Indian overtook him, and laid hold of his flannel hunting shirt. Throwing his arms back suddenly, the nimble boy slipped out of the garment and ran on, leaving the disappointed savage holding his trophy, for he dared not pursue the fugitive any further.

Through a multitude of such trials Mrs. Robertson was preserved. She was the mother of eleven children, and lived to an advanced age, leaving a number of descendants, useful and prosperous citizens in the valley to which she came as a pioneer. She witnessed the gradual growth of the place selected as her home from a wilderness to a rude settlement, and thence to a town of importance. In 1805 Nashville boasted but one brick house, although Market-street and a few others were laid out. There was a log schoolhouse, and the wild forest encircled the future capital. There was difficulty at that time in procuring supplies of provisions; it took three or four months to go to and from New Orleans in the flat-bottomed boats, which always started as soon as the waters rose, and returned in the spring laden with groceries, grain, and various articles for provision and clothing. Furs were procured of the Indians. There were at that period no good schools in the valley, and pupils were sent to Carolina and the Eastern States to be educated, by parents who were able to afford the expense. Stores for use or trading purposes were sometimes brought in wagons from Baltimore and Philadelphia, through the eastern portion of Tennessee; but pack-horses had been generally used. Two men could manage ten or fifteen horses, carrying each about two hundred pounds, by tying one to the other in single file, one man taking charge of the leading, the other of the hindmost horse, to keep an eye on the proper adjustment of the loads, and to stir up any that appeared to lag. Bells were indispensable accompaniments to the horses, by which they could be found in the morning when hunting up preparatory to a start. Grass or leaves were inserted in the bells to prevent the clapper from moving during the travel of the day. The first wagon-load of merchandize brought over the mountains on the southern route, is said to have been in 1789, when it was nearly a month making a trip of one hundred and forty miles.

“The water-craft used in descending the Ohio in those primitive times, were flat boats made of green oak plank, fastened by wooden pins to a frame of timber, and caulked with tow or any other pliant substance that could be procured. Boats similarly constructed on the northern waters, were called “arks,” but on the Western rivers they were denominated Kentucky boats. The materials of which they were composed were found useful in constructing temporary buildings for safety and protection against the inclemency of the weather, after they had arrived at their destination.”[12]

In early life Mrs. Robertson became a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and with her husband joined the first society of that denomination organized in the country, under the preaching of Wilson Lee. The class met to hear the word preached and for social communion, about three miles west of Nashville. She continued an exemplary member of this Church to her death.

In all the relations of life she was faithful, and strict in the performance of every duty. Her manners were modest, unassuming and gentle; she was kind and affectionate in her family, a most devoted and loving mother, and a careful, though indulgent mistress. She was ever open-hearted and benevolent, soothing the ills she had no power to remove. Her industrious habits and self-denying virtues were an example to all who knew her, and she was esteemed and beloved by a large circle of friends and acquaintances. In person she was rather above the medium size, with a symmetrical form, and regular, interesting, and expressive features. She retained to the close of life the faculties of mind and body in uncommon vigor; and in the full expectation of a glorious immortality calmly closed her eyes on the scenes of earth in her ninety-third year, June 11th, 1843, at the house of her son-in-law, John B. Craighead, three miles west of Nashville.

General Robertson was engaged during the greater part of his life in public service. In his latter years he was appointed Indian agent in the Choctaw nation, where he died in 1814. His bones were removed some years since from the Indian lands, and deposited in the burial ground at Nashville. The sons murdered by the Indians were Peyton Henderson, eleven years of age, and James Randolph, about twenty. With the exception of these, and an infant daughter, the children of Mrs. Robertson lived to marry and have families of their own. Three daughters and two sons are living at this date, and Dr. Robertson, one of the sons, is one of the most highly esteemed citizens of Nashville.

V.

JANE BROWN.

Many fearful tales of the individual suffering which marked the early history of Tennessee, are only known to a few as family traditions, and remembered by the descendants of those who bore a part, as stories of the nursery and not as chapters in the great historic record of the past. Yet the experience and conduct of a single individual may often better illustrate the condition, progress, and character of a people, than whole chapters devoted to the details of a campaign.

The traditional recollections detailed in the following sketch of the family of James Brown, connected as they were intimately with some of the most important political events of that period, cannot fail to throw new light upon the pioneer history of the country, and inspire our hearts with renewed gratitude to those hardy, but wise men and women, who built up so goodly a State amidst so many troubles, in the dark and bloody valleys of the Shauvanon, Tanasees, and Ho-go-hegee.

Jane Gillespie was born in Pennsylvania about the year 1740. Her father was a pioneer in the settlement of North Carolina. Her family was one of the most respectable as well as the most worthy in the county of Guilford, where they resided during the Revolutionary war. Two of her brothers, Col. and Maj. Gillespie, were distinguished for their gallantry and devotion to the cause of liberty, and were honored as brave officers. Herself and most of her family were members of the Rev. David Caldwell’s church at Guilford, and ardently espoused his political and religious principles.

About the year 1761 or 1762, Miss Gillespie became the wife of James Brown, a native of Ireland, whose family had settled in Guilford some years before. At the beginning of the Revolution, Mrs. Brown had a large family of small children, but she freely gave up her husband when his country demanded his services. During the masterly retreat of General Greene, in the winter of 1781, on Dan and Deep rivers, Brown was the pilot and guide of Colonels Lee and Washington, and by his intimate knowledge of the country, its bypaths and fords, contributed not a little to the successful countermarches of the American army, by which they were enabled to elude and break the spirit of the army of Lord Cornwallis. When the Americans assumed the offensive, and, from a retreating, suddenly became a pursuing army, Brown pressed eagerly into the fight with the bold troopers of Lee and Washington.

Being in moderate circumstances, and pressed by the cares of a large and increasing family, Brown’s ardent temperament was not satisfied with the prospect of a plodding life of toil in Guilford. For his Revolutionary services he had received from the State of North Carolina land-warrants, which entitled him to locate a large quantity of land in the wilderness beyond the mountains. His neighbors had made him sheriff of his county, and a justice of the County Court, and he was rapidly rising in the estimation of his countrymen for his patriotism, integrity, and many other virtues of a good citizen. But he readily saw the advantages which he might secure to his rising family by striking out into the deep forests, and securing for them the choicest homes in the Tennessee and Cumberland valleys. He could command only a trifle in money for his land scrip, but by exposing himself to a few years of hardship and danger, he could secure independent estates for his numerous children. With him, to be convinced was to act: his decision and his action went together. Tearing himself from the bosom of his family and all the endearments of a happy home circle, he set out on his journey to explore the valley of the Cumberland. The whole of Tennessee was then a wilderness, except a small spot on the Holston or Watauga, on the east, and a small spot around Nashville and Bledsoe’s Lick, on the west of the Cumberland Mountains. Taking with him his two eldest sons, William and John, and a few tried friends, he explored the Cumberland valley. He secured lands on the Cumberland river below Nashville, at the place now known as Hyde’s Ferry. He also explored the wilderness south, as far as Buck river, and located a large body of land south of Duck river, near Columbia. The whole country was then almost untrodden by the foot of the white man. It was the hunting-ground of the Chickasaws, Creeks, and Cherokees, and was full of deer, elk, bears, and buffaloes. The rich uplands, as well as the alluvial bottoms of the rivers, were covered with cane-brakes, which were almost impervious to man. Whoever penetrated these regions, did so with knife and hatchet to cut away the cane, and with rifle to oppose the savage beasts and savage men who sheltered in its deep fastnesses. But Brown’s heart was a bold one, and his hopes for the future animated him to perseverance. Having located by actual survey several fine tracts of land, he determined to return to Guilford, and remove his family to their new home in the West. Leaving William as a deputy surveyor under Col. Polk, and John to open and cultivate a small field, and build some cabins at the mouth of White’s Creek, he returned to North Carolina.

In the winter of 1787-8, Brown and his family, having disposed of their property, found themselves on the banks of the French Broad in what is now Hawkins county, Tennessee, waiting the opening of the spring, before beginning their journey across the mountains to the Cumberland valley.

In 1785, the treaty of Hopewell had been concluded with the Cherokees, guaranteeing reciprocal friendship between that nation and the Americans. At the time Brown arrived on the banks of the French Broad, there was apparent acquiescence in the terms of this treaty, and the Cherokee and the white man seemed, for a time, to have smoked the pipe of peace, and buried the tomahawk for ever.

There were two routes to the Cumberland Valley at this time, the one by land, the other by water. The land route was a long and tedious one, through the Cumberland Gap, across the head waters of the Cumberland, Green, and Barren rivers in Kentucky, to Bledsoe’s Lick, or Nashville. The other route was easier of accomplishment, and more desirable; because, being by the descent of the river, it admitted of the transportation of goods and aged persons. Brown, on his recent visit to Cumberland, had heard of Col. Donaldson’s voyage down the Tennessee, up the Ohio and Cumberland, to Nashville, and of one or two other parties who had succeeded in making the same voyage. As he had women and small children, and packages of valuable goods, which he was taking to the West, he resolved to hazard the descent of the Tennessee river.

He was not ignorant of the fact that there were many populous Indian towns on the Tennessee river, of both the Cherokee and Chickasaw nations, and that marauding parties of Creeks and Shawanees were often on its shores and in the towns. He knew the danger of the voyage, on account of the hostile Indians; and he also knew its numerous shoals, rapids and eddies, rendered its navigation perilous to such frail open boats as could then be constructed. But he trusted in the honest disposition of the Cherokees to conform to the treaty of Hopewell, and judged that the marauding Creeks and Shawanees would prove less dangerous on the water than on the circuitous land route to the Cumberland. Having been habitually exposed to danger for many years, it is probable he rather sought the most perilous route, feeling a sort of manly desire to meet and overcome it.

Having built a boat in the style of a common flatboat, modeled as much as possible after Noah’s ark, except that it was open at the top, he prepared to adventure the fearful voyage. About the 1st of May, 1788, having taken on board a large amount of goods suitable for traffic among the Indians and the pioneers in Cumberland, his party embarked upon the bosom of French Broad. The party was a small and weak one, considering the dangers it had to encounter, and the valuable cargo it had to defend. It consisted of Brown, two grown sons, three hired men and a negro man; in all, seven grown men; Mrs. Brown, three small sons and four small daughters; an aged woman, the mother of one of the hired men, and two or three negro women, the property of Brown.

To make up for the weakness of his party, Brown had mounted a small cannon upon the prow of his boat, and no doubt relied as much for his security upon the known terror which such guns inspired in the savages, as upon any damage which he expected to inflict upon them with it. Thus appointed and thus equipped, this happy family began its eventful descent of the river. All was gladness, all was sunshine. The land of their fathers, of their loved friends and pastor, was behind them; beneath their oars flashed the bright waters of a lovely stream, whose winding channel would soon bear them to their new home in the valley of the fairy Cumberland. As they passed rapidly along, the father sat in the midst of his little children, hopefully describing their new home in the deep forests of the West.

They thus descended the French Broad to the Tennessee, and went on merrily down its waters to Chickamauga, a considerable town of Cherokee Indians, not far from the present site of Chattanooga. Here the Indians appeared friendly; the principal chief went on board the boat, and made inquiry for various articles of goods, proposed to trade, and finally took his leave, with many professions of kindness. Our voyagers continued their descent, rejoicing in the happy omen which the friendship of the Chickamauga chieftain opened for their future. The next day, the 9th of May, the solitary pirogue or flatboat had passed several Indian villages, and had come in view of the towns of Running Water and Nickajack, the last Cherokee towns where there was any considerable body of Indians. The voyagers began to rejoice in their happy deliverance from the principal dangers which had threatened their journey. They would in a few hours be through the mountain passes, on the wide bosom of a noble river, where they would be comparatively free from the ambuscades of lurking savages.

Suddenly four canoes, with white flags raised, and naked savages kneeling in them as rowers, glided out into the river, and rapidly approached; fearing some mischief, Brown immediately turned his cannon upon the approaching canoes, and with lighted match, bade them keep off at the peril of their lives.

Struck with astonishment at the bold threat, they paused, and pulled their frail canoes a little out of the range of the big gun. A man by the name of John Vaun, a well-known half-breed, who spoke good English, was the leader of the party. He spoke to Brown, and said that his party came in friendship; as an evidence of that they had raised a white flag; they came as his friends to trade with him. Brown, who was a bold and fearless man, and dared to face a thousand savages, still kept them off; but at last, confiding in the assurances of Vaun that he was a white man, and that the Indians would respect the persons and property of his party, in an unguarded moment he consented that several of the Indians might come on board. A dozen Indians now came on board, and lashed their canoes to the side of the boat. As they came near the town, hundreds dashed out into the river in their canoes, and came alongside of the boat. Having thus secured possession, the leading men, especially Vann, assured Brown that no harm was intended. In the mean time, each Indian seized upon whatever he fancied and threw it into his canoe. In this way several boxes and trunks were instantly rifled. Vann pretended to order his followers to abstain, but they paid no attention to him. A bold warrior now demanded of Brown the key to a large chest, that contained his most valuable stores, which he refused to give, telling the Indian that Mrs. Brown had it. The Indian demanded it of Mrs. Brown, but she boldly refused to give it up. He then split the top of the chest open with his tomahawk, and his example was immediately followed by the other Indians, who broke open and rifled every box and package on the boat. While this was going on, a savage rudely took hold of Joseph Brown, a lad fifteen years old, but was forced by the father to let the boy go. An instant after, the Indian seized a sword lying in the boat, and while Brown’s back was turned to him, struck him on the back of the neck, almost severing his head from his body. Brown turned in the agony of death and seized the Indian, and in the struggle was thrown into the river, where he sank to rise no more. The boat was now turned into the mouth of a little creek, in the town of Nickajack, and the whole party taken on shore, in the midst of several hundred warriors, women and children. In the mean time, Vann continued to tell the sons of Brown that all this was a violation of the treaty of Hopewell, and that Breath, the chief of Nickajack and Running Water, who was expected there that night, would punish the marauders, restore their goods, and send them on their voyage. Several leading warriors of the upper town had seized Brown’s negroes as lawful spoil, and had dispatched them in canoes to their several homes. Whatever may have been Vann’s true motives, his interference on this occasion had the effect to place the whole party at the mercy of the Indians, without resistance. If he acted in good faith, he was shamefully deceived by his followers; but if he only used his address to disarm the voyagers, that they might the more easily fall victims to savage ferocity, his conduct exhibits the climax of perfidy.

A party of Creek braves, who were engaged with the men of Nickajack and Running Water in this outrage, having seized upon their share of the plunder, and having taken possession of Mrs. Brown, her son George, ten years old, and three small daughters, immediately began their march to their own nation. While the Cherokees were deliberating upon the fate of the prisoners and a division of the spoils, they adroitly withdrew from the council, on the plea that this all belonged to the head men of Nickajack. Thus, in one short hour deprived of husband, sons, friends, liberty and all, this devoted woman, with her five smallest children, began her sad journey on foot along the rugged, flinty trails that led to the Creek towns on the Tallapoosa river.

At the time of this outrage, there was living at or near Nickajack, a French trader, named Thomas Tunbridge, married to a white woman, who had been taken prisoner near Mobile, when an infant, and raised by the Indians. After she was grown, she was exchanged, but refused to leave the Indians, distrusting her ability to adapt her habits to civilized life. She had been married to an Indian brave, by whom she had a son, now twenty-two years old, who was one of the boldest warriors of the Cherokee towns. He had already killed six white men in his forays to the Cumberland settlement. Having all the versatility of his mother’s race, as well as the ferocity and courage of his father, he was fast rising into distinction as a warrior, and bade fair to reach the first honors of his nation. His praises for daring and chivalry were in the mouths of all.