LIVING at the time of Tecumseh, was a chief of strong ability, though inferior to the great Shawanoe in the nobler qualities. He was Weatherford, the Creek leader, whose name recalls one of the most terrible incidents in the history of the frontier.

It will be remembered that Tecumseh visited the Creeks, and when his burning appeals failed to rouse his listeners as he expected, he declared in his impatience that when he got home he would stamp the ground and it should shake. His return was followed by the historical New Madrid earthquake.

But for the fatal blunder of The Prophet, in bringing on the battle of Tippecanoe, while Tecumseh was absent, the Creeks as a body would have joined the confederacy. As it was, the younger warriors were swept off their feet by the Shawanoe's eloquence, though many of the elders urged them to keep out of the war that was sure to bring suffering and disaster to them.

Withal, in the face of bad traits, Weatherford was brave, eloquent and tactful. He required a strong occasion to rouse him to bursts of oratory, and he was too wise to cheapen his gifts by speaking too often. His wisdom was the admiration of the old, while his vices made him the idol of the young and vicious. He was tall, straight, well-proportioned, with pleasing features; and the impression of any one looking upon him for the first time was favorable. He was avaricious and took for himself one of the finest tracts of land belonging to the tribe among whom he made his home. To sum up, he was the corner-stone of the Creek confederacy.

The Creeks and Seminoles, living within the limits of Florida, began a series of outrages against the white settlements at the opening of the War of 1812. Numerous runaway slaves took refuge in the swamps and morasses where they were welcomed by the Indians and were safe against pursuit and recovery by their former masters. These negroes intermarried with the Indians and the mongrel population was of the most degraded character. Their forays became so harassing, that the militia of the Southwest were called out, and marched against the savages. A large number of the inhabitants fled to Fort Mimms, a stockade on Lake Tonsas, Alabama. Knowing the peril to which these refugees were exposed, Governor Claiborne sent one hundred and seventy-five volunteers to its defence, and placed them under the command of Major Beasley. In his anxiety the governor visited the fort, and tried to impress Beasley with the imminence of the danger to which all were exposed.

"I look upon it as almost certain you will be attacked; Weatherford is one of the most daring leaders the Indians have ever had; his spies are watching you at this moment, as they have been doing from the first; nothing that you can do will escape him; if you give him the first encouragement, he will massacre everyone of you."

The officer assured the governor that he would be vigilant, but the fear of the executive was not removed. Fort Early was the farthest advanced in the Indian country, and he went thither with his escort to impress the same watchfulness upon the garrison there. While on the road, he wrote a letter to Major Beasley, warning him again of his peril, and reminding him that the life of every one of the women and children who had fled to the post was in his keeping.

One would suppose that after these appeals Major Beasley, figuratively speaking, never would have closed his eyes; but that officer was one of those who, when placed in a critical situation, seem to be smitten with blindness. Several negroes had been sent up the Alabama by their masters to procure corn. The Indians captured three, but one managed to escape. He ran to Fort Mimms, and told the Major that the Indians were marching against the post. The commandant looked calmly at the panting servant, the picture of terror, and smiled. He couldn't believe the negro had any cause for his panic. The next day several white men came to the fort with word that a large force of Indians were in the neighborhood, and every sign pointed to an attack. The officer was not so foolish as wholly to disregard this news, though he could not believe the danger was serious. That which followed seems incredible. Three negroes, a day or two later, hurried to the post, and told Major Beasley that, while looking for cattle in the woods, they had met a large party of prowling Indians. The officer sent out several scouts to look for them. They came back saying they had not found a single redskin, whereupon, Major Beasley had the principal negro whipped for spreading falsehoods. The next day the same negro discovered a large number of warriors stealing through the woods toward the fort. Not caring to earn another reward such as he had received for telling the truth in the former instance, he wisely decided to hold his peace.

Not long afterward, Weatherford, at the head of fifteen hundred warriors, crossed an open field and came within thirty paces of the fort on a bright summer morning (August 30, 1813), before his approach was discovered. To complete the criminal idiocy of the commandant and his officers, the gates were open and unguarded. Before they could be closed, the horde swarmed through and attacked the garrison. Of the defenders, nearly one-half were old men, women and children.

The soldiers fought as men do who know no quarter will be given, and who are aware of the awful fate of those dependent upon them, in case of the failure to repel their assailants. It is not necessary to dwell upon the particulars of this dreadful affair. Every officer died fighting. The women and children took refuge in the blockhouse, to which the Creeks applied the torch, and all perished. The wounded Major Beasley was one of those who breathed his last in the flames. Nearly three hundred were in Fort Mimms, of whom only seventeen escaped, and most of these were wounded.

This massacre sent a thrill of horror and wrath throughout the country. Tennessee set aside three hundred thousand dollars, and placed five thousand men under command of General Andrew Jackson, with orders to punish the Creeks. It is worth noting that "Old Hickory" at that time was not fully recovered from a wound received in a duel, and among the volunteers under him were the eccentric Davy Crockett, killed more than twenty years later at the Alamo, and "Sam" Houston, who won the independence of Texas at San Jacinto, shortly after the death of Crockett, and his comrades at the fort in San Antonio.

On the march, Jackson's men rebelled because they were reduced to the point of starvation, and saw no hope of getting a mouthful of food if they remained. The stern old hero of New Orleans crushed the mutiny, and lived upon acorns, and sometimes was unable to obtain even these. It was not the only time that that remarkable man, single-handed, conquered a thousand men by the strength of his will.

It is not our province to give a history of the Creek War, marked as it was by many shocking occurrences on both sides. White men, in the intense anger caused by the outrages of the Indians, often equalled them in cruelty. There were numerous skirmishes, battles and defeats of the hostiles, whose spirits, however, remained unbroken, until the delivery of the crushing blow at the Great Horseshoe Bend of the Tallapoosa River, in the State of Alabama. The Creeks had been beaten so many times that they determined to make their final stand at this point, and to stake everything on a single battle. Their camp was fortified with a skill that recalled the fort of the Narragansetts during King Philip's war, it being so built that the only way to carry it was by storm. Behind these rough intrenchments crouched a thousand warriors, ready to fight to the death.

General Jackson had been eager from the first to get the hostiles together like this, so that when he struck his blow, it should be effective. So long as only a few were slain here and there, no real effect upon the campaign itself followed. He was as resolute to reach the hostiles as they were to have him come within reach of them.

Early on the forenoon of March 27, 1814, General Coffee, with a force of regulars, and a number of friendly Indians, crossed the river two miles below the encampment and stationed his men so as to cut off the retreat of the enemy. A number of spies paddled in canoes to the end of the bend, and fired several buildings. Pressing on, they attacked the breastworks, but did not make much of an impression.

Meanwhile, the rest of the American army was impatiently awaiting their opportunity. When Jackson, as eager as they, had placed his troops in position, he sent forward a flag of truce, with an interpreter to summon Weatherford to surrender. The moment the flag came within range, the Creeks fired upon it. The bearer hurried back with a report of his inhospitable reception.

The battle which opened lasted for five hours, and was fought with the fierceness that marked the great Swamp Fight in New England, more than a hundred years before. The triumph of the Americans was overwhelming. They had twenty-five killed and more than a hundred wounded, while the loss of the Creeks reached the fearful total of six hundred, besides two hundred and fifty women and children prisoners. The blow was one of the most crushing ever delivered in the history of Indian warfare.

None of the Creeks was so blind as not to see that the only escape from utter destruction was by making peace on the best terms possible, with the whites. Chiefs and warriors began coming into the American camp and offering their submission. Whenever they did so, the eagle-eyed Jackson scanned each dusky face, and asked the name of the leader before him. He wanted to secure Weatherford, and left no doubt of his purpose to shoot him for the horrible crime of Fort Mimms. He was willing to accept the surrender of any and all chiefs, with the one exception of the arch-fiend, who had placed himself outside the pale of civilized warfare.

But Weatherford did not appear. He may have been too proud to surrender, but it is as likely he feared to put himself in the power of the stern leader of the Americans. Afraid the Creek sachem would not appear, and determined to get him, Jackson told several chiefs that he would accept their submission, but, before doing so, they must prove their earnestness by bringing Weatherford to him, securely bound.

When these chiefs, at Jackson's command, went to Weatherford with the message, he replied:

"I shall never be delivered to him bound a captive."

Some time later General Jackson was busy with certain papers, when a tall, fine looking Indian stalked into his tent.

"I am Weatherford," said he; "I am the chief who commanded at Fort Mimms; I have come to ask peace for my people."

"I am surprised that you should appear in my presence," replied the general, studying the visitor from head to foot; "I know of your wicked conduct at Fort Mimms, for which you deserve death; my orders were that you should not be seen here until you were bound; had that been done, I should have known how to deal with you."

"You can still do that; am I not in your power? Can you not do with me as you choose? I am a soldier; I have done your people all the harm I could; I should have done them more harm, but I could not; I have fought you bravely, and if I had an army I should still fight you; I would contend to the last; but I cannot fight without warriors, for they have been taken from me. My people are gone; you have left but few of them; I can only weep for them that are gone."

Jackson was the man to admire boldness in another. His visitor had disarmed him by his bold surrender, knowing, as Jackson was sure he knew, his anger toward him. He looked admiringly at the tall, magnificent fellow and said:

"I will take no advantage over you, scoundrel though you are! If I should serve you as you ought to be served, even your own people would say I did right. You showed no mercy to poor women and children at Fort Mimms, when they had not harmed a hair in the head of you or yours, and could not defend themselves. But, as I said, I will take no advantage over you. You may walk out of this camp unharmed; you may place yourself at the head of your war party and fight us; but I warn you that if you are captured, you shall receive no quarter. Your people can save themselves only by unconditional submission."

Standing erect, the chief looked into the face of the stern, military leader, and without a tremor, replied:

"You know it is safe to address such words to me. There was a time, not long ago, when I should have known how to answer you; once I had a choice, but there is none left to me now. There does not remain even to me a hope. I could once animate my warriors to battle, but I cannot animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear the voice which has nerved their arms so many times. Their bones are scattered at Talladega, Tallushatches, Emuckfau, and Tohopeka (the Indian name of Horseshoe Bend).

"I have not surrendered myself without thought. While there was a single chance of success, I never left my post nor begged for peace, for I did not want it. Weatherford does not fear to meet any white man. But my people are gone, and my prayer is not for myself but for my nation. I look back with deep sorrow, and wish to avert deeper calamities that threaten to come upon my people. If I had been left to contend with the Georgia army, I should have raised my corn on one bank of the river, and fought them on the other. But your people have destroyed my nation. You are a brave man. I rely upon your generosity. You will exact no terms of a conquered people, but such as it is right they should accede to. Whatever they may be, it would now be madness and folly to oppose them. If they are opposed, you shall find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience. Those who still hold out can be influenced by nothing but a mean spirit of revenge. To this they must not, and shall not sacrifice the last remnant of their country. You have told our nation where we might go and be safe. This is good talk, and they ought to listen to it. They shall listen to it!"

This fine speech produced the effect intended. General Jackson declined to accept Weatherford as a prisoner of war, and he strode out of the American camp as proudly as he had entered it, and kept the pledge made to his conqueror.