THE CREEKS AND THE CREEK WAR
If all the stories of the troubles of the early settlers of Georgia with the Indians could be written out, they would fill a very large book. All the whites with whom the red men came in contact in Georgia were not as just, as generous, and as unselfish as James Edward Oglethorpe. On the other hand, not all the Indians with whom the whites had dealings were as wise and as honest as old Tomochichi. Consequently misunderstandings arose, and prejudices grew and developed. This was greatly helped by dishonest traders and speculators, who were keen to take advantage of the ignorance of the Indians.
The controlling influence among the Indians in Georgia was the Creek Confederacy (or nation); and this, in turn, was practically controlled by the Muscogees.
North of the Creeks, Broad River being the dividing line, lived the Cherokees, a nation even more warlike than the Creeks. The impression made upon the Indians by Oglethorpe and some of his more prudent successors, made them the strong friends of the British. Of course, the red men were unable to appreciate the merits of the quarrel between the Georgia settlers and King George: but, even if matters had been different, they would probably have remained on friendly terms with the Royalists; for Governor Wright, who was a wise as well as a good man, took great pains, when the Liberty Boys began their agitations against the Crown, to conciliate the Indians, and to show them that the King was their friend. What was known as "the royal presents" were promptly sent from England, and promptly delivered to and distributed among the Indians. The governor sent for the chiefs, and had conferences with them; so that when the Revolution began, the Upper and the Lower Creeks, and the Cherokees as well, were the firm friends of the British. During the Revolution, as we have already seen, they made constant and unprovoked attacks on the patriots, burning their houses, carrying off their cattle, and murdering their helpless women and children. These raids were continued even after the Americans had compelled Great Britain to recognize their independence, and hundreds of incidents might be given to show the ferocity with which the savages attacked the whites. In many cases the settlements were compelled to build stockades, in which the people took shelter, for safety as well as defense, whenever there was an alarm.
On one occasion shortly after the close of the war, the Indians attacked the family of a man named William Tyner, who was living in what is known as Elbert County. Tyner himself was absent, and his family was entirely without protection. Mrs. Tyner was killed, the brains of her youngest child were dashed out against a tree, and another child was scalped and left for dead. A young boy named Noah, the son of Mr. Tyner, escaped in the general confusion, and hid himself in a hollow tree. This tree was for many years known as "Noah's Ark." Mary and Tamar, two daughters, were suffered to live; but the Indians carried them off to the Coweta towns on the Chattahoochee. These children remained with the Indians several years. John Manack, an Indian trader, saw them there, and purchased Mary. He then brought her to Elbert County, and afterwards made her his wife. He returned to the Indian nation shortly afterwards, and tried to purchase Tamar; but, as she was useful to the Indians in bringing wood and fuel for their fires, they refused to sell her. When Manack went away, an old Indian woman, who was fond of Tamar, learned that the Indians, suspecting the girl was preparing to escape, had decided to burn her at the stake. The old woman helped her to escape by providing her with provisions and a canoe. She also gave Tamar directions how to go down the Chattahoochee. By day the fleeing girl hid herself in the thick swamps along the banks of the river, and by night she floated down the river in her canoe. She finally reached Apalachicola Bay, took passage on a vessel, and shortly afterwards arrived at Savannah. Here she was assisted to her home in Elbert County by the citizens. She married a man named Hunt, and no doubt many of her descendants are still living in Georgia.
There was once an Indian village in Troup County, on the west bank of the Chattahoochee, where the Indians who lived on the Alabama side of the river were in the habit of meeting before and after their raids upon the white settlements. Before the raids they would meet there to arrange their programme; and afterwards they would assemble at the village to count the scalps they had taken, dispose of their prisoners, and divide the spoils. On one occasion, after a very destructive raid into the white settlements, the Indians returned to this village, and began to celebrate the success with which they had been able to creep upon the settlements at dead of night, murder the unsuspecting whites, burn their dwellings, and drive off their horses and cattle. This time, however, the Indians had been followed by a few hundred men, under the leadership of General David Adams, who was at that time a major in the militia, and a scout. Major Adams had taken part in the closing scenes of the Revolution when quite a young man. When the Creeks renewed their depredations after the war, Major Adams, both as a scout and as a leader, fought the Indians with such success as to win distinction.
He followed the Indians on this occasion with a few hundred men, who had volunteered to accompany him. His pursuit was not active. The men under him were not seasoned soldiers; and even if they had been, the force of Indians was too large to justify an attack. Major Adams followed the Indians in the hope that he and his men would find an opportunity to surprise them. The Indians marched straight for the village on the west bank of the Chattahoochee, about eight miles beyond the point where La Grange now stands. At this village, which was the central point of the Lower Creek nation at that time, there were many Indians—men, women, and children—awaiting the return of the raiders. It was in the late afternoon when they reached the village, and as the sun went down they began the celebration of their victories; and in this they were joined by the Indians, who had been waiting for their return.
Major Adams had halted his command a few miles from the river, where he waited until night fell. He then advanced silently to the banks of the stream, which was not so wide that he and his men could not see the Indians dancing around their fires, and hear their whoops and yells. On one bank stood the men whose families and friends had been murdered; on the opposite shore, and almost within a stone's throw, the red murderers danced and howled in savage delight.