RED EAGLE'S SURRENDER.
The power of the Creek Nation was crushed at the battle of Tohopeka. The force which fought so desperately there represented not all, but by far the larger part, of what was left of the fighting force of the nation, and they were so utterly beaten that there was nothing to encourage an effort to assemble the scattered warriors again for a struggle. The slight cohesion which tribes of Indians have was gone, and Jackson knew very well that no more severe battles need be fought if the present one was properly followed up with measures designed to convince the Creeks of the uselessness of further resistance. He prepared, therefore, to establish his army in the heart of the Creek Nation, to overawe whatever bands might remain, to strike at roving parties, and to reduce the tribes to submission and peacefulness.
Sinking the bodies of his dead in the river, instead of burying them, he withdrew with his army to Fort Williams, the place he had established and garrisoned as his supply depot, for the double purpose of putting his wounded men into hospital and of replenishing his supply of food, for he had carried nothing with him beyond Fort Williams except one week's provisions in the men's haversacks.
After a tedious march lasting five days, Jackson rested his worn-out men at Fort Williams, and there wrote the following address, which was ordered to be read to the army:
"You have entitled yourselves to the gratitude of your country and your general. The expedition from which you have just returned has, by your good conduct, been rendered prosperous beyond any example in the history of our warfare; it has redeemed the character of your State, and of that description of troops of which the greater part of you are.
"You have, within a few days, opened your way to the Tallapoosa, and destroyed a confederacy of the enemy, ferocious by nature and who had grown insolent from impunity. Relying on their numbers, the security of their situation, and the assurances of their prophets, they derided our approach, and already exulted in anticipation of the victory they expected to obtain. But they were ignorant of the influence and effect of government on the human powers, nor knew what brave men and civilized could effect. By their yells they hoped to frighten us, and with their wooden fortifications to oppose us. Stupid mortals! Their yells but designated their situation the more certainly, while their walls became a snare for their own destruction. So will it ever be when presumption and ignorance contend against bravery and prudence.
"The fiends of the Tallapoosa will no longer murder our women and children, or disturb the quiet of our borders. Their midnight flambeaux will no more illumine their council-house or shine upon the victim of their infernal orgies. In their places a new generation will arise who will know their duty better. The weapons of warfare will be exchanged for the utensils of husbandry; and the wilderness, which now withers in sterility and mourns the desolation which overspreads her, will blossom as the rose and become the nursery of the arts. But before this happy day can arrive other chastisements remain to be inflicted. It is indeed lamentable that the path to peace should lead through blood and over the bodies of the slain; but it is a dispensation of Providence, and perhaps a wise one, to inflict partial evils, that ultimate good may be produced.
"Our enemies are not sufficiently humbled; they do not sue for peace. A collection of them await our approach, and remain to be dispersed. Buried in ignorance, and seduced by the false pretences of their prophets, they have the weakness to believe they will still be able to make a decided stand against us. They must be undeceived, and made to atone their obstinacy and their crimes by still further suffering. Those hopes which have so long deluded them must be driven from their last refuge. They must be made to know that their prophets are impostors, and that our strength is mighty and will prevail. Then, and not till then, may we expect to make with them a peace that shall be permanent."
Ten days after the battle of the Horse Shoe the army again advanced, the men carrying provisions in their haversacks as before. A long march brought them to the confluence of the Coosa and Tallapoosa rivers, where a junction with the southern army was effected and supplies were abundant.
There Jackson established his camp and fortified it. The force of Creeks which he had expected to strike had dispersed, and there was now nowhere a body of Indians for him to march against or fight. His presence with a strong army, well supplied with food and able to maintain itself there in the very heart of the nation, did the rest. Seeing the utter hopelessness of contending further with such an army so commanded, and hearing through friendly Indians, who were sent out for the purpose, that Jackson wished to make peace, the savages rapidly flocked to his camp and surrendered themselves.
Peter McQueen, Josiah Francis, and several other chiefs fled to Florida, but the greater number of the Creek leaders preferred to sue for Jackson's clemency.
To them Jackson replied that he had no further desire to make war, but that peace would not be granted to the nation until Red Eagle—or Weatherford, for by that name only the whites called the Creek commander—should be brought to him bound hand and foot. It was his purpose to hang Red Eagle as a punishment for the massacre of women and children at Fort Mims, he knowing nothing, of course, of the warrior's daring efforts to prevent that bloody butchery, and to make of the affair a battle, not a massacre.
News of Jackson's determination was carried to Red Eagle, and he was warned to fly the country and make his escape to Florida, as many of his companion chiefs had done. There, of course, he would have been safe beyond the jurisdiction of Jackson and of the government which Jackson represented; but Red Eagle was a patriot, and when he was told that the fierce commander of the whites would give no terms to the Creeks under which the women and children now starving in the woods could be saved, except upon his surrender, that the price of peace for his people was his own ignominious death—he calmly resolved to give himself to suffer for his race, to purchase with his blood that peace which alone could save his people from destruction.
Mounting his famous gray horse—the one which had carried him over the bluff at the Holy Ground, he rode away alone toward Jackson's camp.
The author of that history of Alabama which has been quoted frequently in these pages gives the following account of what followed, drawn, he assures us, from Red Eagle's own narrative in conversations had with him:
"He rode within a few miles of Fort Jackson, when a fine deer crossed his path and stopped within shooting distance, which he fired at and killed. Reloading his rifle with two balls, for the purpose of shooting the Big Warrior, should he give him any cause, at the fort, he placed the deer behind his saddle and advanced to the American outposts. Some soldiers, of whom he politely inquired for Jackson's whereabouts, gave him some unsatisfactory and rude replies, when a gray-headed man a few steps beyond pointed him to the marquee. Weatherford rode up to it and checked his horse immediately at the entrance, where sat the Big Warrior, who exultingly exclaimed:
"'Ah! Bill Weatherford, have we got you at last?'"
"The fearless chieftain cast his keen eyes at the Big Warrior, and said in a determined tone:
"'You —— traitor, if you give me any insolence I will blow a ball through your cowardly heart.'
"General Jackson now came running out of the marquee with Colonel Hawkins, and in a furious manner exclaimed:
"'How dare you, sir, to ride up to my tent after having murdered the women and children at Fort Mims?'
"Weatherford said:
"'General Jackson, I am not afraid of you. I fear no man, for I am a Creek warrior. I have nothing to request in behalf of myself; you can kill me if you desire. But I come to beg you to send for the women and children of the war party, who are now starving in the woods. Their fields and cribs have been destroyed by your people, who have driven them to the woods without an ear of corn. I hope that you will send out parties who will safely conduct them here, in order that they may be fed. I exerted myself in vain to prevent the massacre of the women and children at Fort Mims. I am now done fighting. The Red Sticks are nearly all killed. If I could fight you any longer I would most heartily do so. Send for the women and children. They never did you any harm. But kill me, if the white people want it done.'
"At the conclusion of these words many persons who had surrounded the marquee exclaimed:
"'Kill him! kill him! kill him!'
"General Jackson commanded silence, and in an emphatic manner said:
"'Any man who would kill as brave a man as this would rob the dead!'
"He then invited Weatherford to alight, drank a glass of brandy with him, and entered into a cheerful conversation under his hospitable marquee. Weatherford gave him the deer, and they were then good friends."
Mr. Pickett discredits the accounts of this affair which were given by persons who were present at its occurrence, but they have been accepted by so many writers of repute, including Eaton and Meek, whose opportunities for learning the truth were as good as his, that Mr. Parton regards them as trustworthy at least in their main features. Following him in this, we give the remainder of the conversation between Jackson and the heroic chieftain. Jackson told Weatherford what terms he had offered to the Creeks, and added:
"As for yourself, if you do not like the terms, no advantage shall be taken of your present surrender. You are at liberty to depart and resume hostilities when you please. But, if you are taken then, your life shall pay the forfeit of your crimes."
Straightening himself up, the bold warrior answered:
"I desire peace for no selfish reasons, but that my nation may be relieved from their sufferings; for, independent of the other consequences of the war, their cattle are destroyed and their women and children destitute of provisions. But I may well be addressed in such language now. There was a time when I had a choice and could have answered you. I have none now. Even hope has ended. Once I could animate my warriors to battle. But I cannot animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear my voice. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallushatchee, Emuckfau, and Tohopeka. I have not surrendered myself thoughtlessly. While there were chances of success I never left my post nor supplicated peace. But my people are gone, and I now ask peace for my nation and myself. On the miseries and misfortunes brought upon my country I look back with the deepest sorrow, and wish to avert still greater calamities. If I had been left to contend with the Georgia army I would have raised my corn on one bank of the river, and fought them on the other. But your people have destroyed my nation. General Jackson, you are a brave man; I am another. I do not fear to die. But I rely upon your generosity. You will exact no terms of a conquered and helpless people but those to which they should accede. Whatever they may be, it would now be folly and madness to oppose them. If they are opposed, you shall find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience. Those who would still hold out can only be influenced by a mean spirit of revenge. To this they must not and shall not sacrifice the last remnant 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."
Jackson was too brave a man not to discover the hero in this courageous, self-sacrificing man, who, knowing that an ignominious death had been determined upon for him, calmly refused to save himself, and boldly placed his life in his enemy's hands for the sake of his people. When two men so brave as these meet there is fellowship between them, because there is brotherhood between their souls. When Red Eagle thus faced Jackson and offered to accept death at his hands in return for peace for the now helpless Creeks there was peace between the two great-souled men, who knew each other by the free-masonry of a common heroism, a common courage, and a common spirit of self-sacrifice.
Seeing Weatherford in this transaction, do we need to remember his battles as proof that he was a great man in the larger and better sense of the word; that he did his duty, as he understood it, without regard to his personal welfare; that he was a patriot as well as a soldier?