Big Brother: A Story of Indian War

by George Cary Eggleston

  CHAPTER VIII.

  WEATHERFORD.

  The fiercest and most conspicuous leader of the Indians in this war wasWilliam Weatherford, or the Red Eagle, as the Indians called him. He iscommonly spoken of in history as a half-breed, but he was in realityalmost a white man, with just enough of the Indian in his composition toadd savage emotions to Scotch intellect and Scotch perseverance. Hisfather was a Scotchman, and his mother a half-breed Indian Princess. Hewas brought up in the best civilization the border had, his father beingwealthy. He became very rich himself, and, despite his savage instincts,which were always strong, his wealth, in land and slaves, made him aconservative. At first he favored a war with the whites, but a calmerafterthought led him to desire peace, and when he found that thetempest he had helped to stir up would not subside at his bidding, hebegan casting about for a way of escape. He was a man of unquestionablegenius; a soldier of rare strategic ability; an orator of the truestsort, and his courage in danger was simply sublime. Such a man waslikely to be of great value to the Indians in their approaching war, andwhen they began to suspect his loyalty to the nation, they watched himnarrowly. Finding it impossible to postpone the war, and not wishing tosacrifice his fine property near the Holy Ground, he made a secretjourney to the residence of his half brother David Tait and his brotherJohn Weatherford, who lived among what were known as the "peacefuls,"namely, the Indians disposed to remain at peace with the whites in anyevent. His brothers, hearing his story, advised him to bring hisnegroes, horses and movable property generally, together with hisfamily, to their plantations, and to remain there, inactive and neutral,during the struggle. When he returned to his residence for the purposeof doing this, however, he found that the hostile Indians had seized hisfamily and his negroes as hostages, and, under the compulsion of theirthreat that they would kill his wife and children if he should dare toremain at peace, he joined in the war against the whites, becoming thefiercest of all the chieftains. He planned and led the assault upon FortMims, and was everywhere foremost in all the fighting. When the Creekswere utterly routed at the battle of the Holy Ground a month or so afterthe time of which I am writing, General Jackson issued a proclamationrefusing terms of peace to the chiefs until Weatherford, whom he haddetermined to put to death, should be brought to him, alive or dead.Weatherford hearing of this, although he was safe beyond the borders andmight have easily made his escape to Florida, as his comrade PeterMcQueen did, rode straightway to Jackson's head-quarters, where he saidto the commander who had set a price upon his head:--

  "I am Weatherford. I have come to ask peace for my people. I am in yourpower. Do with me as you please. I am a soldier. I have done the whitepeople all the harm I could. I have fought them and fought them bravely.If I yet had an army I would fight and contend to the last. But I havenone. My people are all gone. I can now do no more than weep over themisfortunes of my nation."

  Jackson was so impressed with the sublime courage and the dignity of theman upon whose head he had set a price, that he treated him at once withchivalrous consideration. He told him that the only terms upon which theIndians could secure peace were unconditional submission and uniformgood conduct; but "as for yourself," he said, "if you do not like theterms, no advantage shall be taken of your present surrender. You are atliberty to depart and resume hostilities when you please. But if you aretaken then, your life shall pay the forfeit of your crimes."

  Weatherford calmly folded his arms and replied; "I desire peace for noselfish reasons, but that my nation may be relieved from its sufferings;for independent of the other consequences of the war, my people's cattleare destroyed and their women and children destitute of provisions. Imay well be addressed in such language now. There was a time when I hada choice and could have answered you. I have none now. Even hope hasended. Once I could animate my warriors to battle. But I cannot animatethe dead. My warriors can no longer hear my voice. Their bones are atTalladega, Tallashatche, Emuckfaw and Tohopeka. I have not surrenderedmyself thoughtlessly. While there were chances of success I never leftmy post nor supplicated peace. But my people are gone, and I now askpeace for my nation and myself. On the miseries and misfortunes broughtupon my country, I look back with the deepest sorrow, and wish to avertstill greater calamities. If I had been left to contend with the Georgiaarmy, I would have raised my corn on one bank of the river and foughtthem on the other. But your people have destroyed my nation. GeneralJackson, you are a brave man,--I am another. I do not fear to die. But Irely upon your generosity. You will exact no terms of a conquered andhelpless people but those to which they should accede. Whatever they maybe it would now be folly and madness to oppose them. If they areopposed, you shall find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience.Those who would still hold out can only be influenced by a mean spiritof revenge. To this they must not and shall not sacrifice the lastremnant of their country. You have told us what we may do and be safe.Yours is a good talk, and my nation ought to listen to it. They _shall_listen to it."[1]

  [Footnote 1: For these speeches of Weatherford's and for otherhistorical details I am indebted to a valuable and interesting book,"Romantic Passages in South Western History," by A. B. Mull, Mobile, S.H. Goetzsl & Co. publishers, which is now, unfortunately out of print.The speeches are well authenticated I believe.]

  Jackson was too generous and too brave a man to remain unmoved undersuch a speech from a man who thus placed his own life in jeopardy forthe sake of his people. He bade the chieftain return home, and promisedpeace to his people, a promise faithfully kept to this day. All thishowever occurred nearly two months after the time of which I write, andit is introduced here merely by way of explaining the things whichhappened to Sam on the morning of the rash resumption of his journey.

  This man Weatherford, the fiercest enemy the whites had, with a partyof about twenty-five Indians, bivouacked, the night before, in the edgeof the woods, and when Sam mounted his horse that morning the Indianswere lying asleep immediately in his path as he rode blindly out of thethicket. The first intimation he had of their presence was a grunt froma big savage who lay almost under his horse's feet. Coming to himself inan instant, Sam took in the whole situation at a glance, and with therapidity and precision which people who are accustomed to the dangersand difficulties of frontier life always acquire, he mentally weighedall the facts bearing upon the question of what to do, and decided. Hesaw before him the savages, rising from the ground at sight of him. Hesaw their horses browsing at some little distance from them. He saw arifle, on which hung a powder-horn and a bullet-pouch, standing againsta bush. He saw that he had already aroused the foe, and that he muststand a chase. His first impulse was to turn around and ride back, inthe direction whence he had come; but in that direction lay the thicketthrough which he could not ride rapidly, and so if he should take thatcourse, he would lose the advantage which he hoped to gain from thefleetness of his particularly good horse. Besides, in the thicket hemust of course leave a trail easily followed. Just beyond the group ofIndians he saw the open fields, and he made up his mind at once that hewould push his horse into a run, dash right through the camp of thesavages, pick up the convenient rifle if possible, and reaching the opencountry make all the speed he could. In this he knew he would have anadvantage, inasmuch as he would get a good many hundred yards awaybefore the savages could catch and mount their horses for the purpose ofpursuing him, and he even hoped that they, seeing how far he was inadvance of them, would abandon the idea of pursuit altogether. All thisthinking, and weighing of chances, and deciding was the work of a singlehalf second, and the plan, once formed, was executed instantly. Withoutpausing or turning he pushed his horse at a full run through the groupof savages, receiving a glancing blow from a war club and dodgingseveral others as he went. He succeeded in getting possession of therifle which stood by the bush, and reached the field before a gun couldbe aimed at him. It was now his purpose to get so far ahead as todiscourage pursuit, and with this object in view he continued to urgehis horse forward at his best speed.
This hope was a vain one, as hesoon discovered. The Indians, infuriated by his boldness, mounted theirhorses and gave chase immediately. Sam had an excellent habit, as weknow, of keeping his wits about him, and of preparing carefully fordifficulties likely to come. The first thing to be done was to escape,if possible, and so he continued to press his high-spirited coltforward, while he debated the probabilities of being overtaken, anddiscussed with himself the resources at his command if the savagesshould come up with him. He was armed now, at any rate, and if runningshould prove of no avail, he could and would sell his life very dearly.Indeed the possession of the rifle roused all the spirit of battle therewas in him, and great as the odds were against him, he was sorelytempted to pause long enough to shoot once at least. He remembered Tomand Judie and Joe, however, and their dependence upon him for guidanceand protection, and for their sake more than for his own, suppressedthe impulse and continued his flight. The Indians were nearly half amile behind him, and, as nearly as he could tell, were not gaining uponhim very rapidly. His colt seemed equal to a long continued race, and asyet showed no sign of faltering or fatigue. The question had nowresolved itself, Sam thought, into one of endurance. How long theIndians would continue a pursuit in which he had the advantage of half amile the start, he had no way of determining, but that his horse'sendurance was as great at least as their perseverance, he had everyreason to hope.

  Just as he had comforted himself with this thought, a new dangerassailed him. One of the Indians, it seemed, taking advantage of aminute knowledge of the country, had saved a considerable distance byriding through a strip of woods and cutting off an angle. When Sam firstcaught sight of him, coming out of the woods, the savage was within adozen yards of him, and evidently gaining upon him at every step. Sam'shorse was a fleet one, but that of the Indian was apparently athoroughbred, whose speed remained nearly as great after a mile's runas at the start. Knowing the Indians' skill in shooting while riding atfull speed, Sam leaned as far as he could to one side, so that as littleas possible of his person should be exposed to his pursuer's aim. Hecontinued to press his horse too, but the savage gained steadily.Finding at last that he must shortly be overtaken, Sam resolved upon abold manoeuvre, by which to kill his foremost pursuer. Seizing thehatchet he had brought away from the house, he suddenly stopped hishorse, and, as the Indian came along-side, aimed a savage blow at hishead.

  "Don't you know me, Sam?" said the Indian in good English, dodging theblow. "I'm Weatherford. If I'd wanted to kill you I might have done so adozen times in the last five minutes. You know I don't want to kill_you_, though you're the only white man on earth I'd let go. But theothers will make an end of you if they catch you. Ride on and I'll chaseyou. Turn to the left there and ride to the bluff. I'll follow you.There's a gully through the top. Ride down it as far as you can and jumpyour horse over the cliff. It's nearly fifty feet high, and may killyou, but it's the only way. The other warriors are coming up andthey'll kill you sure if you don't jump. Jump, and I'll tell 'em Ichased you over."

  Sam knew Weatherford well, and he knew why the blood-thirsty chiefwished to spare him if he could, for Sam had rescued Weatherford oncefrom an imminent peril at great risk to himself, though the story is toolong to be told here. Whether or not there is nobleness enough in theIndian character to make the savage remember a benefit received, I amsure I cannot say, but Weatherford was _three-fourths white_, and withall his ferocity in war, history credits him with more than one generousimpulse like that by which Sam was now profiting. The two rode on,Weatherford pretending to be in hot pursuit, shooting occasionally andyelling at every leap of his horse. The bluff towards which they rodewas probably a hundred feet high, and was washed at its base by a deepbut sluggish creek, on the other side of which lay a densely woodedswamp. Through the top of the bluff, however, was a sort of fissure orravine washed by the flow of water during the rainy season, and where itterminated the height of its mouth above the stream was not more thanforty or fifty feet. Down this gully Sam rode furiously, so that hishorse might not be able to refuse the leap, which was a frightful one.Coming to the edge of the precipice with headlong speed, the animalcould not draw back but plunged over with Sam sitting bolt upright onhis back. Riding back to the top of the bank Weatherford met hiswarriors.

  THE PERILOUS LEAP.]

  "Where is he?" asked the foremost.

  "His _body_ is down there in the creek. I drove him over the precipice,"said the chief with well-feigned delight.[2]

  [Footnote 2: This incident of the leap over the precipice is strictlyhistorical, else I should never have ventured to print it here.Weatherford himself, on the 23d of December, 1813, after the battle ofTohopeka, escaped a body of dragoons in a precisely similar manner. Astill more remarkable leap was that of Major Samuel McCullock, on the 2dof September 1777, over a precipice fully 300 feet high near Wheeling,West Virginia. He jumped over on horseback, thinking such a deathpreferable to savage torture, but singularly enough, both he and hishorse escaped unhurt.]

  His purpose evidently, was to satisfy the warriors that Sam wascertainly killed, so that they might pursue him no further. Whether hewas yet alive or not, Weatherford himself had no means of knowing. Thelast he had seen of him was as he went over the precipice, sitting boltupright on his horse, grasping his rifle and looking straight ahead. Heheard a splash in the water below, after which everything was still.