Black Creek. Paul Varnes

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said, “We are too, Pa.”

      The boy and I looked at each other for half a minute. Neither of us smiled. I then raised my hand to him and he raised his hand in return.

      Turning to Pa, I said, “Pa, we need to let him go and I haven’t learned enough Muskogee yet to explain it to our Indian friends.”

      Pa then spoke to a nearby friendly Indian who returned his conversation in Muskogee.

      Pa then said to me, “All of this little group is to be let go. That’s why they’re separated from the others. There’s no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth so I didn’t ask why they’re to be let go.”

      Still not knowing his name, I looked back at Osceola. I thought of speaking to him, but I didn’t know what to say or enough of his language to do a good job of it. I didn’t know at the time that his pa was a half-Scot who had taught him English. Pa then heeled his mare and moved on. Raising my hand to the boy, I also rode on. The Indian boy once again raised his hand. Otherwise he didn’t move. I was then seventeen. I was later to learn that Osceola was fifteen at that time. I was also to learn he had come to Florida with Peter McQueen’s band when they were driven out of Alabama and Georgia.

      In the meantime Jackson’s white soldiers were crushing the other Seminole towns. Outnumbered by almost ten to one in most cases, the Indians put up little resistance. Jackson’s troops burned town after town, took thousands of cattle, and took the Indians’ supplies of corn, rice, beans, pumpkins, and other food. The Indians mostly vanished into the swamps.

      Jackson then turned his army toward St. Marks and took the fort without a fight. The Spanish commander of the fort only protested.

      Bowlegs’ town on the Suwannee River, the black community on the Suwannee, and Arbuthnot’s ship were the next victims of Jackson’s attacks. Arbuthnot sold guns, ammunition, and cloth to the Indians from his ship, which was anchored in the Suwannee. He had done so for some time.

      In the meantime, the friendly Indian army Pa and I were with turned toward the Suwannee to meet General Jackson for the attack there. As we approached the Suwannee, survivors from the towns we had ransacked arrived there and told what had happened to their towns and property. These people convinced those along the Suwannee of the danger they were in. Not knowing they were alerted, Jackson marched his men as fast as possible hoping to find and engage the enemy before they were alerted. Jackson wanted to end the war with one major attack. We needed to engage the enemy well before dark in order to have adequate time to finish our work before they could use the cover of night to escape. With the Lower Creek warriors, we arrived in advance of Jackson’s white force.

      Recognizing the futility of the situation, Chief Bowlegs’ tribe disappeared into the swamp east of the river. His village was on the east side of the river so it was just a matter of them pulling out and vanishing into the swamp. The blacks, whose houses lined the west side of the river—the same side we were approaching from—set up a blocking force to stop us. They also started moving their families across the river. We arrived at that time. About four hundred black fighters and some Indians who stayed behind to help them held us off for the hour or so until dark.

      Since Jackson’s white force had not yet arrived, our Lower Creek Indian friends did most of the fighting against the black force holding the riverbank. Being there, and participating, I can tell you the fighting was not very ferocious. The blacks were dug in and our Indians never made an open charge. If they had, they would have overpowered and killed most of the blacks. A couple of hundred Lower Creeks might have also been killed if we had made an open daylight charge.

      The way it happened was that we set up behind trees and logs and shot at the blacks with our long rifles. Armed only with short-barreled muskets, that’s what they shot at us with. We were almost out of range of their muskets but were plenty close enough to be effective with the few long rifles among our force. Still, the blacks mostly kept their heads down and we didn’t hit very many.

      I can’t fault the Indians for the way they fought. It was just their style to lay up behind trees. Pa and I were both happy with that. Neither of us wanted to lead a charge into the muzzles of over four hundred guns behind breastworks.

      As soon as it was dark enough not to be committing suicide, we advanced. The instant we got within range of their muskets, we made a charge. The blacks chose that same time to make a break for the river and try to cross it. Most of them escaped across the river or drowned in it. If we had arrived at the settlement a few hours earlier, we would have had time to cross the river at another place and box them in. As it was, the attack might have cost the defenders a third of their fighters. It couldn’t be determined for sure because most of their fallen died in the river and were never seen again. Only a dozen of the blacks were found dead in their fixed positions. We had no dead among our fighters and only a few slight wounds.

      Taking advantage of the deserted houses, we camped at the site for several days. While camped there we scavenged the surrounding area for food and searched for those who might not have yet gotten out of the area. Our Indian friends killed or captured a few of the blacks and Seminoles we found in the swamps during those days. Two white men were captured: the trader named Arbuthnot, who sold arms to the Indians, and a man named Ambrister, a British subject who had been training the black people for war. Jackson took them to St. Marks where they were court-martialed, sentenced to death, and executed.

      Jackson then moved on to Pensacola where it was said the Spanish were outfitting several hundred Indians so they could raid into the United States. After taking over Pensacola, Jackson then put the fort under siege. Following a brief fight, the Spanish garrison at Pensacola surrendered; thus ended the First Seminole War. It did not end the raiding and fighting, however—raiding by all parties continued at a diminished rate.

      Pa and I didn’t go to Pensacola. The two of us, along with the several hundred volunteers from Georgia, headed for home. We were dismissed because we were no longer needed. At the same time Jackson also dismissed the Lower Creeks who were fighting with him.

      Once their towns were destroyed, the Red Stick Creeks and Miccosukees, except for roving bands, were driven from west Florida. We were to find that our position in southeast Georgia was no safer than it had been. In fact it was less safe. Except for raiding, scavenging, and pillaging east of the Suwannee for a few miles, what is officially called the First Seminole War had taken place between the Suwannee River and Pensacola. Only three hundred or so of the Red Stick and Miccosukees warriors were killed. Most just migrated east. We then had to contend with them at home because more of them were situated closer to our house than before. Also, many of the captive Indian boys had been released. Like me, they would soon be full-grown.

      May 10, 1818

      We arrived home from the First Seminole War in early May. Though it had been only ten weeks, it seemed like two years. I felt two years older. Ma said I looked just like I did the day Pa and I rode off, except for my clothes being dirty. They were a little worn, too. I had just about worn the seat of my britches out from sitting in a saddle.

      As we arrived home we could see that Asa and George had worked hard with the plowing and planting. Some of the things in the fields would need harvesting within two weeks. I had a strange feeling as we rode in. A sort of peaceful feeling settled over me. A sense of responsibility also returned. It seemed to develop as we rode from Sergeant Hunter’s place to ours. All those things I was usually responsible for had been gone from my mind and as we approached our place, they descended like a weight on me.

      Though Ma was seven months pregnant, she came, almost running, to meet us. Pa stepped down from his mare and they

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