Chapter XXV: Elizabeth Kenton, 428 (4)

His mother was now growing old, and having no young children, her son desired to present to her some bright-eyed boy as a slave; for according to the savage code of the times, each captive became a slave to his captor. This woman’s son, whose name was Kiachatalee, was one of the leaders of the marauding party who had seized upon Brown’s boat, and from the first knew the fate of the party. Before the boat landed, he tried to induce Joseph to get into his canoe, with the intention of withdrawing him from the general massacre that was soon to take place, but the boy would not go with him. When the boat landed, Kiachatalee took Joseph to his stepfather, Tunbridge, who in good English told the boy he lived a mile out of the town, and invited him to go and spend the night with him. This the boy did, after asking the consent of his elder brothers. Tunbridge seized the boy by the hand and hurried him away. They had scarcely gone out of the town before they heard the rifles of the savage braves, who were murdering his brothers and friends. What were the feelings of the poor boy at this moment! His father slain; his brothers and friends weltering in their blood, amidst the yells of savage assassins; and his mother, brother and sisters borne off, he knew not whither, by a band of lawless Creek marauders! To add to his agony at such a moment, an aged Indian woman, with hair disheveled, and her round, fat face discolored with excitement, followed them to the trader’s house, calling upon Tunbridge to produce the white man, exclaiming, with a fiendish air of triumph, “All the rest are killed, and he must die also!”

The trader calmly replied to her, “He’s only a little boy. It’s a shame to kill children. He shall not be killed.”

The old hag was excited, and vowed that the boy should be killed. She said, “He was too large to allow him to live. In two or three years he would be a man; he would learn the country, its towns and its rivers; would make his escape and come back with an army of white men to destroy us all.” She said her son, Cutty-a-toy, was a brave chief, and that he would be there in a few minutes to kill the boy.

In a few minutes Cutty-a-toy, followed by many armed warriors, rushed upon the trader’s house, and demanded the white boy, saying that he was too large, that he would be grown, would make his escape, and bring back an army to destroy their town.

The trader stood, with cool courage, in the door of his lodge, and refused to surrender the prisoner, saying it was not right to kill children, and also warning the angry chief that the boy was the prisoner of Kiachatalee, his son, and if he was injured or slain, Kiachatalee would be revenged for it. As Kiachatalee was only a young warrior, and Cutty-a-toy a chief and a gray-beard, this threat of revenge greatly incensed him. In an instant he raised his tomahawk, and, with the air of a man who intends a deed of murder, demanded of the trader, “And are you the friend of the Virginian?”

Answering the look rather than the words, the trader stepped out of his door, and said to the bloody brave, “Take him.”

Cutty-a-toy then rushed into the trader’s lodge, seized the boy by the throat, and was about to brain him with his tomahawk, when the wife of Tunbridge interposed in a tone of supplication which at once succeeded.

“Will the brave chieftain kill the boy in my house? Let not the boy’s blood stain my floor.”

The appeal of the woman reached the savage’s heart. He dropped his weapon, and slowly dragged the boy out of the lodge into the midst of a crowd of savages, who waved their knives and hatchets in the poor lad’s face, in order to enjoy his terror.

In the path which led from the house, the boy fell upon his knees, while the savages were tearing off his clothes, and asked the trader to request the Indians to give him one half hour to pray. The trader roughly replied, “Boy, it’s not worth while; they’ll kill you.” As he stood in momentary expectation of his fate, the trader’s wife again interposed, and begged the savage chief not to kill the boy in her yard, or in the path along which she had to carry water, but to take him out into the mountains, where the birds and wolves might eat up his flesh, where she could not see his blood!

The appeal of the woman was again heard, and giving the boy his pantaloons, they held a short talk, and agreed to take him down to Running Water, saying to the trader’s wife, “We will not spill this boy’s blood near your house; but we will take him to Running Water, where we will have a frolic knocking him in the head.”

Having gone about three hundred yards, they halted and formed a circle around the victim. He again fell upon his knees, and with his face upturned towards heaven, and his hands firmly clasped on his breast, remained in prayer, expecting at each moment the fatal blow. At this dreadful moment he thought of Stephen, to whose vision the heavens were opened at the moment of his death, and was happy. As the savage braves stood around him, young Brown saw their stern aspect of revenge suddenly relax, and a smile of sympathy and pity succeed. They called the trader, told him to take the boy, that they would not kill him; and Cutty-a-toy said he loved the boy, and would come back in three weeks and make friends with him. It was afterwards ascertained that Cutty-a-toy had taken some of Brown’s negroes, and claimed them as his prisoners, and that his fear lest Kiatchatalee might retaliate by killing his negro prisoners, was the thought which suddenly turned him to mercy and pity. So thought his own followers; for when he said he _loved_ the boy, and would not kill him, his savage followers replied:

“No, no, he does not love the boy; it’s the boy’s negroes he loves.”

When Cutty-a-toy’s mother saw that the boy’s life would not be taken, she seemed displeased; went up to him and cut off his scalp-lock, and kicked him so rudely in the side as almost to kill him, exclaiming, “I’ve got the Virginian’s scalp.”

The Tuskegee chief, Cutty-a-toy, led his party away, leaving Joseph in the hands of the trader and his wife. In two or three days he was taken into Nickajack, and the kind old chief, Breath, who greatly regretted what had taken place in his absence, took him by the hand, calmly heard a narrative of his situation from the trader’s wife, and then told the boy that he must be adopted into his tribe, and become an Indian if he would save his life; that there was no other way in which his life could be saved. To that end, the chief adopted him into his own family, and told Joseph that he was his uncle, and that Kiatchatalee was his brother. His head was then shaved, leaving only a fillet of hair on the top, in which a bunch of feathers was tied, his ears pierced for rings, and his clothes taken off; the flap substituted for trowsers, and a short shirt for a coat, shirt, and vest, his nether vestments consisting of a pair of deer-skin moccasins. In this condition he was pronounced an Indian, with the exception of a slit in each ear, which the kindness of the chief deferred making until cold weather.

The trader’s wife took him to see his two sisters, Jane, aged ten, and Polly, aged five years, who had just been brought back to Nickajack; a party of Cherokees having pursued the Creek braves, and recaptured from them these two small girls, after they had been taken some distance towards the Creek towns. From his sister Jane, Joseph learned the destination of the party who had carried off his mother, his brother George, and sister Elizabeth. The children were now in the same town, adopted into different families, and it was a source of consolation to them to be allowed to see each other occasionally. In the various toils which were imposed upon the little captives, such as carrying water and wood, pounding hominy, and working corn in the fields, and on the part of the boy, looking after the stock, nearly a year passed, without many incidents worthy of note. Hostile parties of savages came and went, and tales of barbarous deeds done by them on the distant frontiers were often told in the hearing of the children, but none brought deliverance for them. Yet in but few instances did the savage neighbors of these captive children treat them unkindly. Three or four times Joseph’s life was in danger from lawless braves, whose bloodthirsty natures panted for the blood of the white man. The good old chief, Breath, hearing of these things, caused young Brown to be armed, and declared that it should be lawful for him to slay any Indian who should maltreat him.

In a few months Joseph was allowed a rifle and a horse, and permitted to go into the woods to hunt. He might often have availed himself of the kindness of his savage friends, and made his escape to the frontiers, but he loved his little sisters, and his love for them restrained his desire for freedom, lest his escape might add to the rigors of their slavery, or perhaps for ever prevent their deliverance.

In the meantime open war had been going on between the Indians and the people of Cumberland and East Tennessee. Two thousand warriors, principally Cherokees, of whom four or five hundred were horsemen dressed as white men, made an irruption into East Tennessee, killing everything before them. Generals Sevier and Martin, with a large body of pioneers, had marched into their territory, laying waste their fields and villages. When their chief, Big Tassel, came to Sevier’s camp with a flag to hold a talk, he was killed by a soldier named Kirk, whose family had been murdered by his warriors. This outrage added new flames to the rage of the Cherokees, who no longer sought peace. In their revengeful foray, they stormed Fort Gillespie, eight miles from Knoxville, and butchered men, women and children, carrying off Mrs. Glass, the sister of Capt. Gillespie.

These savages were not wholly illiterate: many of their leaders could speak and even write English, and they well understood the sacred character of a white flag and of treaties. The following proclamation, written at Fort Gillespie after the massacre, by Watts, or some of his half-breed followers, is curious and illustrative. It is signed by Bloody Fellow, Categisky, John Watts, and The Glass.

Oct. 15th,[13] 1798.

_To Mr._ JOHN SEVIER _and_ JOSEPH MARTIN, _and to You, the Inhabitants of the New State_.

“We would wish to inform you of the accidents that happened at Gillespie’s Fort, concerning the women and children that were killed in the battle.

“The Bloody Fellow’s talk is, that he is now here upon his own ground. He is not like you are, for you kill women and children and he does not. He had orders to do it, and to order them off the land, and he came and ordered them to surrender, and they should not be hurt, and they would not. And he stormed it and took it.

“For you, you beguiled the head man (Big Tassel), who was your friend, and wanted to keep peace.

“But you began it, and this is what you get for it. When you move off the land, then he will make peace, and give up the women and children.

“And you must march off in thirty days.

“Five thousand is our number!”

In the spring of 1789, an exchange of prisoners was agreed upon at a talk held with Gen. Sevier. It was agreed that the Cherokees should make an absolute surrender of all the white persons within their borders, and runners were sent to each of the head men, to send their captives to the Little Turkey for an exchange. When these runners came to Nickajack, young Brown was on a trading trip down the river with his Indian brother Kiachatalee, and did not return until Mrs. Glass and all the other prisoners had gone up to Running Water, where the chief was awaiting their arrival.

When young Brown got home, he was sent with one of his sisters to Running Water, in order to be sent up to the treaty-grounds to be exchanged. His little sister would not leave her Indian mother, who had ever treated her kindly, but wept and clung to her neck, declaring that it would break her Indian mother’s heart if she left her. This tender feeling was a tribute to savage kindness, but young Brown finally took his sister in his arms, and carried her some distance, before he could reconcile her to go with him. His eldest sister belonged to a trader, who said he had bought her with his money, and would not let her go. Joseph had to leave her behind, being wholly unable to redeem her.

At Running Water, young Brown heard Turkey, the head chief, stating to his chiefs around him the terms of the treaty he had made: and in doing so, his followers upbraided him for agreeing to deliver so many prisoners without any ransom. To this the chief replied, “Little John (meaning Sevier) would have it so; he is a very mean man--a dog; but he has my daughter a prisoner, and he knew I would have to agree to any terms, to get her back.”

The next morning, when the Indian chief was about to start his prisoners forward, young Brown refused to go, and was taken to the chief to give his reasons. He then stated that one of his sisters was left in Nickajack, and that he never would consent to be set at liberty without her. The savage chief immediately sent for the girl, and after some delay, Col. Bench, the chief of the mounted regiment of Indians, went himself, and brought the girl to Running Water. Thus, about the first of May, 1789, young Brown and his two sisters were once more restored to liberty. Being reduced to poverty, these now orphan children were sent into South Carolina, to sojourn with some relatives until their elder brother, who was in Cumberland, could go after them, or until their mother should be released from her captivity amongst the Creeks.

We must now return to the 9th of May, 1788, and continue the narrative of Mrs. Brown’s captivity. Having seen her husband fall by the hands of savages, she was hurried away by her captors, and took the road southward, just as she heard the yells and rifles of the cruel savages who murdered her sons and their companions. What must have been the feelings of horror and agony of this poor woman, herself a prisoner in the hands of she knew not whom, and borne she knew not whither! To add to the horror of her situation, she soon saw two of her sweet little daughters torn from her side by a party of Cherokees, and borne back, she knew not whither, nor for what end.

Driven forward on foot for many days and nights, she continued to bear up under the bodily fatigues and mental anguish by which she was tortured, her feet blistered and swollen, and driven before the pack-horses along a flinty path, every moment expecting death if she failed, and every moment expecting to fail! She yet accomplished many days’ travel, and finally reached one of the upper Creek towns on the Tallapoosa, far down in the wilderness. Arrived at the town of her captor, she found herself a slave, doomed to bear wood and water, pound hominy, and do all servile offices for her savage mistress. To add to her distress, her son, nine years old, and her daughter, seven, were taken to different towns, and she was left indeed alone in her sorrow.

At the period of Mrs. Brown’s captivity, Alexander M’Gillevray, a half-breed Creek, of Scotch descent, was the head chief of the Muscogee Indians, and assumed the title of Commander-in-chief of the Upper and Lower Creeks and the Seminoles; being the military as well as the civil governor of all the Indians of Florida, Alabama, and Lower Georgia. He was a man of keen sagacity, forest-born and forest-bred, combining the shrewdness of the savage with the learning of the civilized man. Fortunately for Mrs. Brown, her cruel captor took her to a town in which lived a sister of M’Gillevray, who was the wife of a French trader by the name of Durant. Her age and dignified bearing under the toils imposed upon her, excited the sympathy and compassion of this kind-hearted Indian woman. Several weeks passed before she found an opportunity, but when Mrs. Brown’s savage master was absent, the wife of Durant spoke to her kindly, told her that she pitied her sorrow, and would, if she could, relieve her. She said her brother, the chief of the Creeks, did not approve of his people’s making slaves of the white women, and that he was a liberal, high-minded man, who had a soul of honor, and would never turn away from a helpless woman who came to him for succor. “Why do you not fly to him?” asked the simple-hearted woman.

Mrs. Brown explained to her her total ignorance of the country, and her inability to reach the residence of Col. McGillevray. The Indian woman listened to her, and then said, “It is true: but if you will, there is my horse, and there is my saddle. You are welcome to them; but you must take them. I cannot give them, but my husband shall never pursue. You can take them without danger.” It was arranged. On a certain morning the Indian woman sent an aged Indian, who was to act as the guide of Mrs. Brown, as far as a trader’s house; from which point the trader was to procure a guide and a horse.

At the appointed time, Mrs. Brown, mounted upon her friend’s horse and saddle, started in pursuit of her Indian guide, who travelled on as though entirely unconscious of her existence. She arrived in safety at the trader’s lodge, and was by him furnished with a guide and horse to the chieftain’s residence. Full of gratitude for intended kindness, she yet approached the Creek chieftain with many feelings of doubt and misgiving. He received her kindly, heard her story attentively, and after considering it well, gave Mrs. Brown a cordial welcome to his house, and bade her stay with his wife, as a member of his family. He explained to her that, according to the usage of his people, she belonged to her captor, and that he had no right to take her from him.

He said, however, that he could no doubt reconcile her master by some presents, when he should follow, as he no doubt would before long. He told her she could make shirts or other garments for the traders, and soon provide herself with everything necessary for her comfort. In the meantime, he would furnish her with whatever she needed. Mrs. Brown accepted the savage chieftain’s proffered protection, and took shelter under his roof. She had been there but a few days when she was startled by the appearance of her savage master, who had followed her to her place of refuge. Fortunately for her, the chieftain was at home, and himself met her pursuer. The Indian gruffly demanded of his chieftain the white woman, his prisoner.

Col. McGillevray at once informed him that she was in his house, and that he had promised to protect her. The savage merely replied, “Well, if you do not give me back my prisoner, I’ll kill her.” The wily chieftain knew his man, and humoring his temper, replied, “That is true. She is your prisoner, and you can kill her, if you choose. I know she is a weak woman, and you are a brave warrior. Would you tie the scalp of a squaw about your neck?”

“But she can carry water, and hoe corn, and pound hominy for my wife,” said the Creek warrior; “and she’s mine; she’s my prisoner.”

“That’s true,” said the chieftain; “but if you kill her, will she carry any more water? Can the dead work? If you will consent to leave her with me, so that I can send her back to her people, I will send your wife a new dress, and will give you a rifle, some powder and lead, and some beads and paints; and when you go back to your wife, she will not see the blood of a woman upon your hands!”

Savage cupidity overcame savage revenge, and Mrs. Brown became the ransomed captive of the brave and generous McGillevray; a noble instance of chivalry on the part of a savage chieftain, which reflects more honor on his name than the glory of a hundred battles fought by his people during his chieftaincy. For several months she plied her needle in his lodge, and by her experience in the craft of needle-work soon rendered herself useful to her Indian friends, and by her dignity and energy commanded their respect.

The chieftain on his next visit to the upper Creek towns, found Mrs. Brown’s daughter, Elizabeth, aged about seven years, generously purchased her from her master, and upon his return home had the pleasure of restoring the sweet child to her distressed mother: a grateful duty, nobly performed! He also informed Mrs. Brown that he had seen her son George, and tried to induce his master to part with him, but that he was so much attached to the boy he would not part from him on any terms. But he assured her he would not fail, as soon as possible, to ransom her son, and restore him also to her arms.

In November, 1789, Col. McGillevray had appointed to meet commissioners to arrange terms of peace, at Rock Landing, Georgia. On his departure for the treaty grounds, he took Mrs. Brown and her daughter, and there delivered them to her son William, who came from South Carolina, and had gone thither in hopes that he might be enabled to hear something of her and her long lost children.

Thus, in November, 1789, after eighteen months’ captivity, she was at last united with her surviving children. They spent a short time in South Carolina with some relatives, and returned to Guilford, N. C., at last restored to her friends, whom she had left but two short years before. But what a change had taken place in her destiny since she had started westward with her husband, sons, and neighbors, so full of life and hope! All her captive children were now restored to her, except George, who was in one of the upper Creek villages, doomed to a still longer captivity.

Mrs. Brown had two sons who were in the Cumberland Valley on the 9th of May, 1788; William the surveyor, and Daniel, aged twelve years, who went over the land route with some stock, to the Cumberland Valley. During her short stay in Guilford, her benefactor, the Creek chieftain, passed through Guilford Court House, and sent word to Mrs. Brown that he was there. She immediately went with her brother, Col. Gillespie, Rev. Dr. Caldwell, and her son William, and thanked him with them. In addition, her brother offered to pay Col. McGillevray any sum he might think proper to demand, as the ransom of Mrs. Brown and her daughter, but the generous Creek refused any compensation whatever. He said he owed it to humanity and honor to do as he had done, and that to receive pay for it would deprive him both of the real pleasure and real honor of such a deed. He assured Mrs. Brown he would not fail to use his best efforts to restore her son, and she might rely upon his finding out some means to accomplish so good an object.

Mrs. Brown, with the remnant of her family, again turned her face westward, seeking the new home which the foresight of her husband had prepared for her and her children, and to which he was so boldly conducting them when he perished. And now at last, in 1791, this devoted woman and all her surviving children but one, found themselves at their new home, at the mouth of White’s creek, near Nashville. About this time her son Joseph, while travelling with a small party of friends, was shot through the arm by a party of savages in ambush; a severe wound, from which he did not recover for some time.

In 1792, a formidable body of Creeks, Cherokees, and Shawanees invaded Cumberland Valley, attacked Buchanan’s Station, and were repulsed with great loss. Joseph Brown came the next morning, with a large party of friends, to the assistance of Buchanan, but the Indians had retreated. Upon approaching the scene of action, what was young Brown’s astonishment at finding his Indian brother, Kiachatalee, lying cold in death upon the field, near the walls of the fort against which he had so gallantly led the assault! The next year, Joseph attended a treaty at Tellico, in East Tennessee, where he met a nephew of Kiachatalee, named Charles Butler, with whom he had been well acquainted while a prisoner at Nickajack. Butler gave him the Indian version of the attack on Buchanan’s Station, and also the story of Kiachatalee’s heroic death. He said the assault was led by Kiachatalee; that he attempted to set fire to the block-house, and was actually blowing it into a flame, when he was mortally wounded. He continued, after receiving his mortal wound, to blow the fire, and to cheer his followers to the assault, calling upon them to fight like brave men, and never give up till they had taken the fort.[14]

There were many incidents of frontier life, such as Mrs. Brown’s was now, which would be interesting to the present generation, but the length of this sketch will necessarily exclude many of them. On one occasion, her eldest son, William, while in pursuit of a party of Indians near Nashville, was severely wounded in the arm, so that almost every member of her family had been captured, wounded, or slain by the hands of the Indians. These were trials hard to bear; yet amidst all her troubles Mrs. Brown bore herself as an humble Christian, devoutly grateful to the Giver of all good, that He had watched over her and guided her footsteps aright, in the midst of so many sorrows.

In the year 1794, such had been the continued outrages of the savages from the lower Cherokee towns, in conjunction with marauding Creeks and Shawanees, upon the Cumberland settlements, that the principal pioneers resolved to fit out an expedition at their own expense, march to Nickajack and Running Water, and punish those lawless people with fire and sword. The national administration had, by its Commissioners, made treaty after treaty with the Cherokees, but still the people of these lower towns continued their depredations, against the wishes of the upper Cherokees; and it was impossible to induce the national government to take the decided steps which these bold pioneers knew were so absolutely necessary to check the marauding spirit of the lower Cherokee towns. These towns were far down the Tennessee, in the midst of mountain fastnesses, which the foot of white man had never trod. They felt secure from all aggression, and reposed in full confidence that whoever might suffer on account of their incursions into Cumberland, their towns were unapproachable.

At this time Joseph Brown was living near Nashville with his mother, and had recently gone with Gen. Robertson to attend an Indian council at Tellico block-house. The intimate knowledge young Brown had obtained of these lower towns and their people by his residence there, enabled him to communicate a good idea of the country and the people from whom the Cumberland settlements had so long suffered. The death of Kiachatalee at Buchanan’s Station, on the 30th September, 1792, his warlike character, so well known to Brown, and his leadership as a warrior among the men of Nickajack and Running Water, all pointed out these towns as the hives from which came forth such swarms of marauding Indians.

Despairing of succor from the national government, Gen. Robertson wrote to Col. Whitley, of Kentucky, who was a well-known partisan, to be at Nashville about the 1st September, 1794, with as many trusty riflemen as he could bring with him. About the same time Col. Mansco, Gen. Johnson of Robertson, Col. Montgomery of Clarksville, and Gen. Robertson, each quietly raised a few trusty men. Maj. Ore at that time commanded a squadron of mounted men, who were in the employ of the United States as rangers, to protect the frontiers of Cumberland. At the request of Gen. Robertson, Maj. Ore arrived at Buchanan’s Station just in time to join the expedition.

In the meantime, boats were made of hides, and tried in the Cumberland river, to ascertain their capability of transporting the troops across the Tennessee. These boats were made each of two raw hides, as large as could be got, sewed together, and each was found capable of carrying about fifty guns, and one or two men. They were capable of being rolled up and packed on mules or horses, and could in a few moments be fully equipped and launched.

All the parties being assembled, it was ascertained that there were about six hundred, including Maj. Ore’s Rangers. As all but his command were volunteers, who came out without any authority, it was resolved to give Ore the nominal command of the whole party, which would give color of authority to the party to make the campaign, and would save them from the odium of making a lawless invasion of the Indian country. Col. Whitley and Col. Mansco were, however, the prime movers of the campaign, and had most of the responsibility of its conduct. With the troops were more than a dozen leading partisan officers, who had been distinguished in many an Indian battle.

On the 7th September, 1794, this formidable army of invasion set out for Nickajack; and although the route had been unexplored, and the mountains and river lay between them and their enemies, they had counted the cost, fitted out their boats, and had resolved to strike a blow that would teach the lawless Indians a severe lesson.

The troops made a forced march, reached the Tennessee river just after dark on the fourth day, and in thirty minutes had their rawhide boats afloat in the river, ready to bear over the arms. They immediately began to cross the river, landing a short distance below the town of Nickajack. Most of the men swam over in perfect silence, their arms and clothes being conveyed in the boats, and on rafts rudely constructed of bundles of canes. In order to guide the swimmers, a very small fire was kindled at the water’s edge, by the party which first crossed. Out of six hundred, only two hundred and thirty could be induced to cross over; some holding back because they could not swim, and others because they were subject to the cramp; while others, no doubt, reflecting upon the number of the enemy, and the difficulty of a retreat when once across so wide a river, did not feel quite willing “to stand the hazard of the die.” But in the face of appalling dangers, some men showed a stout-heartedness which might have done honor to the bravest of the brave. A young man by the name of Joseph B. Porter, who could not swim at all, tied an armful of dry canes together, and nothing daunted, plunged into the rapid river, and kicked himself over in safety. Young Brown, although still lame in one arm, from the wound he had received in the Indian ambuscade, plunged into the river, and swam safely over. At daylight there were two hundred and thirty on the south bank of the Tennessee, within half a mile of Nickajack, and yet they were undiscovered. Leaving Brown, with twenty picked men, to guard the crossing of the creek, at the lower end of the town, with instructions to meet them in the centre of the town as soon as he heard their fire, the main body turned towards the town, and came down upon it from above.

Although Nickajack contained about three hundred warriors, they were so completely surprised that they made little resistance; but flying precipitately, took to their canoes, and attempted to cross the river. Some fled to Running Water, and others secreted themselves in the thickets. The whole town ran with blood. About seventy warriors were slain, and a large number of women and children were taken prisoners. Young Brown carried the lower end of the town manfully, killing several warriors, and taking some prisoners. In one instance, he killed an Indian warrior in single combat, and carried away his scalp.

As soon as Nickajack was taken, a detachment was sent to destroy Running Water. On the way, the Indians met them, and after an obstinate resistance, gave way, but not till they had wounded three Americans, one of them, Joshua Thomas, mortally. Running Water was also taken, and both towns immediately reduced to ashes. Among the dead, Brown recognized the body of Breath, the generous chief who had adopted him into his family when he was a prisoner. In the towns, many articles of stolen property, which were recognized as belonging to men who had been killed in Cumberland Valley, were found. In addition to these, fresh scalps were found in Nickajack, as well as a number of letters, taken by the Indians from the mail-bags, after having killed the rider. They also found a quantity of powder and lead, recently sent by the Spanish government to these Indians.

Never was a visitation of this kind so justly merited as it was by these towns. They were the principal crossing-places for the war-parties of Creeks, Shawnees, and Cherokees, who went to harass the Cumberland and Kentucky settlements. But two days before their destruction, a war dance was held there, at which were several Cherokee chiefs, as well as Creeks, who had resolved to wage a still more relentless war on the frontiers.

While Brown could not but feel that the hand of Providence had signally punished these towns for their outrage on his family, his exultation was prevented by the death of his brother-in-law, Joshua Thomas, a brave soldier and a kind, generous friend, who was the only one slain by the enemy on this occasion.

The prisoners recognized young Brown, and alarmed for their safety, pleaded with him to save their lives, saying that his life had once been spared by them. He assured them that they were in no danger; that the white people never killed prisoners, women and children.

This blow was so unexpected and successful, that it inspired the Cherokees with a sincere desire for peace, which they soon after concluded, and never again violated. Soon after this affair, young George Brown was liberated by the Creeks. Joseph returned home and lived some years with his mother. He was devoted to business, and of most exemplary conduct in every relation of life. He soon attached himself to Rev. Thomas B. Craighead’s congregation, near Hayesboro’, and was made an elder in the church.

For several years, he and his mother and brothers memorialized the Congress of the United States to reimburse them for the goods and slaves taken from them in violation of the treaty of Hopewell. But their claims were still unregarded, and still delayed, year after year. In 1806, a treaty was finally concluded with the Indians which opened all the lands on Duck river to the occupation of those who had located their warrants there. Thus Mrs. Brown and her children came into possession of a large and splendid tract of land south of Columbia, to which she soon after removed with her son Joseph.

During the Creek war of 1812, a large number of Cherokee Indians offered their services to Gen. Jackson against their red brethren. Gen. Jackson immediately wrote to Joseph Brown, who had lately been elected colonel by his neighbors, requesting him to consent to command a regiment of Cherokee Indians. This he promptly agreed to do, and started to join the army for that purpose. He however, never took charge of the Indians, but served with the army, as aid to Gen. Robards, as well as interpreter and guide.

He was thus a participant in the battle of Talladega, and had the honor of leading and conducting a charge upon the most hotly contested part of the Indian lines. During this campaign Brown again met Charles Butler, the nephew of Kiachatalee, and learned from him that the old Tuskegee chief, Cutty-a-toy, was still alive. He learned also that he was then living on an island in the Tennessee river, near the mouth of Elle river, and that he had with him several negroes, the descendants of the woman taken by him at Nickajack, on the 9th of May, 1788.

Col. Brown had at that time a claim before Congress for the value of those negroes, but had always been put off by reason of some defect in the proof as to their value, or some other matter of form. He now determined that, as his negroes were still in the hands of the original wrong-doer, the Tuskegee chief, he would get possession of them, and carry them home. He stated to General Jackson the facts of the case, demanded of him and obtained an order appointing a mixed commission of American and Cherokee officers, to value the negroes of Cutty-a-toy. The Cherokees had long been at peace with the whites, and were now in alliance with them against the Creeks, and under such circumstances there was friendly intercourse between them.

With ten picked men, Brown proceeded to the island, went to the head man’s lodge, exhibited to him Gen. Jackson’s order, and demanded that Cutty-a-toy’s slaves should be immediately sent over to Fort Hampton, to be valued, in pursuance of said order. The head man sent for Cutty-a-toy, and it was immediately agreed that all would go to the fort the next morning.

The next morning, the negroes, Cutty-a-toy, his wife, and some friends, went with Col. Brown to the Fort. In crossing the river Brown and his men took up the negroes and Cutty-a-toy’s wife behind them, to carry over the water, while the Indian men crossed on a raft higher up.

When he reached the fort he directed his men to proceed with the negroes towards Ditto’s landing, while he turned into the fort with Cutty-a-toy’s wife, to await the arrival of the Indians. He immediately called on the commandant of the fort, Col. Williams, stated the history of the case, the order of Gen. Jackson, the failure of Congress to pay for the slaves, and the fact that they were now in his possession; and frankly asked him what course he would pursue, under the circumstances. “Take the negroes home with you,” said the Colonel; “and if you wish to do it, and have not men enough, I will give you more.”

Upon the arrival of Cutty-a-toy and his followers, they were invited into the fort, and Col. Brown made known to him that he had sent the negroes off, but was willing for the commissioners to proceed to value them. The Indian became enraged. At last, in the midst of the garrison, officers and men, and the Indians, Col. Brown gave a brief narrative of the murder of his father by Cutty-a-toy’s party, the murder of his brothers, and the captivity of his mother, small brother and sisters; of the capture of the slaves by Cutty-a-toy, and his attempt on the life of Col. Brown himself, then a boy at the house of the French trader; of his being saved at the intercession of the trader’s wife, and the Indian’s desire to save the life of his captive negro woman. “It is now,” said Col. Brown, “nearly twenty-five years, and yet during all that time you have had the negro and her children as your slaves, and they have worked for you; and yet you got them by the murder of my father and brothers! You made me an orphan and a beggar, when but for you, I had begun the world with the smiles of a father, and the comforts of a home provided by his care. For this wrong, this crime, Cutty-a-toy, you deserve to die!”

Here Cutty-a-toy hung his head, and said, “It is all true: do with me as you please.”

The soldiers who stood around, many of them the neighbors of Col. Brown, said, “Kill him! he ought to die.” But Brown was now a Christian, and had long since ceased to cherish feelings of revenge against the savage murderer of his father.

“No, no, Cutty-a-toy,” he proceeded, “although you deserve to die, and at my hands, yet I will not kill you. If I did not worship the Great Spirit who rules all things, I would slay you; but vengeance is his, and I will leave you to answer to him for your crimes! I will not stain my hands with your blood; you are now old, and must soon go down to the grave, and answer to that Great Spirit for the life you have led. Live and repent.”

Here Cutty-a-toy assumed a bolder front, and said, by certain treaties made in 1794, this property was guaranteed to him, and that he would sue Brown in the Federal Courts, as some other Indians named by him had done, in similar cases; but he finally agreed, if Brown would give him a young negro fellow, he might take the rest, including two women and some children, which was generously done.

Thus the fortunes of war, controlled by the steady perseverance of her son, at length restored to Mrs. Brown a part of her long-lost property. Many years afterwards, when Gen. Jackson became President, Col. Brown finally obtained an allowance from Congress for a part of the property lost by his father in 1788. In 1810, he became a member of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, and in 1823, a regular ordained minister of that Church.

Having lived to the advanced age of ninety, and never having remarried, but always making her home with her son Joseph, Mrs. Brown left this world of vexation and sorrow, for such it had been to her, at her son’s residence in Maury County, Tennessee. Hers was a most eventful life, full of trials almost beyond human endurance; yet she did not murmur, but tried to see in all her afflictions the kind guidance of a wise Providence.

George, soon after his release from captivity, emigrated to the South, and after nearly fifty years’ honorable citizenship near Woodville, Mississippi, died in the bosom of his family. The captive daughter, Jane, whose release was due to the manly courage of her youthful brother, was married to a Mr. Collingsworth, and became with him a citizen of Texas as early as 1819, where her children yet reside.

The history possesses all the attractions of a romance; yet it is but a plain sad story of trials and sufferings incident to the period and to border life. The only survivor of that pioneer family is the Rev. Joseph Brown, of Maury County, better known as Col. Brown. From notes and memoranda furnished by him, the principal details of this narrative have been written. It cannot fail to be useful to the future historian of Tennessee, yet Haywood, in his history of five hundred pages, only makes the following allusion to the facts contained in this narrative. Speaking of the treaty of peace made at Tellico, October 20, 1795, between the people of Tennessee, and the Creeks and Cherokees, they (the Creeks,) says the historian, “at this time delivered up Brown, son of Mrs. Brown, formerly a prisoner in the Creek nation.” How inadequate is such a notice to do justice either to the sufferings of Mrs. Brown and her children, or to the generous protection of the Creek chieftain to whom they were indebted for their deliverance! For notwithstanding the “obloquy which both history and tradition have thrown upon the characters of the Creek and Cherokee warriors, some bright gleams occasionally break through, which throw a melancholy lustre over their memories.” But a large portion of the pioneer history of Tennessee has never been written. Replete with incidents and heroic deeds which might challenge the admiration of the world, yet all that has been written by Haywood and others would scarcely serve as a thread to guide the future historian through the labyrinth of events which crowded upon the infant colonies of the Holston and the Cumberland.

* * * * *

In 1792 the family of Joseph Wilson, who was a pioneer in the Cumberland Valley, from Carolina, was living at Zeigler’s Station in what is now Sumner County, Tennessee. This station was near Cumberland River, a few miles from Bledsoe’s Lick, but being nearer the frontier, was more exposed to the incursions of the Indians. It was only a small picketted fort, with a blockhouse, and contained but thirteen men, including a son of Wilson, not yet grown. Near the fort was a small farm which was cultivated by the inmates of the station. In the afternoon of the 26th of June, 1792, a large party of Creek Indians assaulted the station, but after a severe contest in which several of the defenders were killed and wounded, the savages were repulsed. There being no surgeon in the party, a messenger was despatched to a neighboring station for a physician to attend the wounded, and for aid to repel any new assault which might be made. Before either surgeon or aid arrived, however, the Indians renewed the assault, and night coming on, they succeeded in setting fire to the buildings, which spread with such rapidity, that the assailed were compelled to decide between instant destruction by the flames and a cruel and lingering death by the hands of the savages. Five of the defenders were already slain, and four others wounded. In this moment of extreme peril, Mrs. Wilson urged her husband to attempt to break through the lines of the savages, and make his escape. It was probable they would spare her life, and those of her young children, but for him death was certain, unless he could make his escape by a sudden sortie from the blockhouse. Wilson hesitated, and feeling the horror of his situation, seemed to prefer death with his family, to leaving his wife and children to the cruelty of the foe; but his heroic wife urged him for her sake to leave her, saying that she would be safer in the hands of the Indians without him than with him. The same appeal was made to another man who was unhurt, but he refused to leave the fort. But a few minutes remained; the flames were sweeping over the roof of the block-house, and the assailants stood around with rifles and their hatchets to strike down any one who attempted to escape. In this dreadful moment Wilson yielded to his wife’s entreaties, bade his son, a lad fifteen or sixteen years of age, follow, and dashing boldly out of the flaming building, was followed by his son. Several shots were instantly fired, one of which took effect in Wilson’s foot, but father and son passed beyond the lines of the assailants, pursued by yelling savages as they fled. Becoming sick from the loss of blood, Wilson secreted himself in a clump of bushes in the field, while his son went on to obtain a horse from a neighboring field. As he lay thus concealed some pursuing savages passed within a few feet of his hiding-place, but fortunately missed him. The lurid flames of the burning block-house, meanwhile, revealed, as he thought, the fate of his wife and children.

As soon as her son and husband had disappeared, Mrs. Wilson, with an infant in her arms, and followed by five small children, the eldest a lovely girl about ten years old, walked slowly out of the block-house, expecting each instant to receive the fatal blow; but yielding to a generous impulse and perhaps not unwilling to obtain captives, who might be made slaves, the Indian warriors spared her life, and made her and her children prisoners. All the rest of the inmates of the fort were killed or burned, except the man who had been dispatched for succor and a surgeon, both of which failed to arrive till the station was in ashes, and the assailants had retreated towards their nation with their prisoners. Capt. Alfred Wilson, a relation of Joseph Wilson, came with a party of friends to the help of the besieged, but came only in time to discover the blackened and charred bones of those who were burned.

In the meantime, young Wilson obtained horses, returned to the place of his father’s concealment, and after having with difficulty placed him on one of the horses, conveyed him to Bledsoe’s Station. A party of the soldiers hastily assembled, pursued, but did not overtake the retreating savages, and thus Mrs. Wilson and her children were carried, as captives, into the White Grounds, in the Upper Creek Nation.

In a few weeks Gov. Blount arrived at Nashville, and called into service three hundred men, in order to defend the frontiers, but the many women and children who were captives in the Creek Towns were left to languish in a barbarous country.

Mrs. Wilson was the sister of Col. White of Knoxville, and through his interposition, after more than twelve months’ captivity, was, with all her children (except her eldest daughter,) restored to her home. Few persons can now imagine the painful suspense in which Wilson and his wife spent that year of separation. An aged pioneer matron,[15] who resided near Bledsoe’s Lick during this period, has said that Wilson seemed to her to have been the most unhappy man in the world, during the year of his wife’s captivity.

Although the family was now again restored to a happy reunion, yet their home circle lacked one bright-eyed prattler, yet in slavery and exile among her savage captors. It was not until after the destruction of Nickajack and Running Water, that young Sally Wilson was restored to the arms of her parents. And then how changed! During her captivity, she had forgotten her own language and her people, and for several months sighed for her forest home! But soon regaining her language, with it came also the remembrance of home and friends, and the home circle was again complete.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson lived many years after this terrible experience of pioneer life, and reared their children to usefulness and honor. Many of their descendants yet reside in Tennessee, while not a few, seeking a better home in the far West, have adventured, like their sires, into the deep solitudes of the wilderness, where they too may yet experience some of the dark trials of their ancestors.

VI.

MARY MOORE.

Before proceeding to sketches illustrating a later period, it will be proper to take a view of the early condition of that portion of Virginia, which, lying on the sunset side of the great range of mountains, belonged to the West. De Hass, in his History of the Indian Wars of Western Virginia, says that before 1749, the country was untrodden by foot of white man, except occasional traders who may have ventured on the heads of some of the tributary streams rising in the Alleghany mountains. It is said that in this year a lunatic wandered into the wilderness of the Greenbriar country, and on returning home, told his friends he had discovered rivers flowing in a westward direction. His report induced two pioneers to enter the mountain wild, where they were found in 1751 by the agent for the Greenbriar company. Further attempts to colonize the country were not made for some years. The first permanent settlements by Zane and Tomlinson, were at or near Wheeling; hardy emigrants followed, and pushed into the fine regions along the Upper Monongahela. When it became known that outposts were established on the confines of civilization, hundreds pressed forward to join the adventurous settlers, and secure homes in the forest domain.