Black Creek. Paul Varnes
they were lucky they were not all killed. Having used up most of their ammunition and with King Payne wounded, the Seminole and black forces did not continue the counterattack. When the word got out about the defeat of Newman, other units were raised and the fighting and raiding only escalated from there. It had been going on ever since.
My Pa, Isaac Senior, was an official member of the hundred-strong company that was in pursuit of the Seminoles. Pa was recruited to scout for Major Bailey. I was only there because Pa let me go. My name is Isaac, too, though Pa just called me Boy most of the time. Ma called me I. J. or just I., depending on the kind of message she wished to convey. Being sixteen years old at the time, I was big enough. Also, I could track and shoot with the best of them.
Though Ma didn’t like it any that I went, she didn’t put up a fuss. We had been having so much trouble from raiding Indians that she would be glad to be rid of them even if it meant that I went with Pa on the campaign.
Less than half of the unit was mounted. Pa and I were mounted on two Spanish-bred mares that he bought in St. Augustine a couple of years earlier. Having been through the area before on the trip to trade with the Spanish, Pa knew the area well. That, and the fact that we were better mounted and armed than most, caused Major Bailey to have Pa and me out front to prevent an ambush.
This was my first time at attacking an enemy. I had been in plenty of fights with the Indians, but it was always them raiding us and us fighting them off. It seemed a little scary at first, us being exposed and subject to an ambush. Before, we had been fighting from inside the cabin or from behind a wagon.
At thirty-seven years old, Pa was a veteran of a number of military operations. He and several hundred other Georgia men fought with Major General Andrew Jackson’s Tennessee Volunteers when Jackson defeated the Red Stick Creeks at the Battle of Horseshoe Bend in 1814. That battle was fought on the Tallapoosey River in Alabama. The way Pa told it, the Tallapoosey had a bend that resembled a horseshoe. Protected on each flank by the river, the Indian’s breastwork stretched three hundred yards and closed off the three hundred acres inside the horseshoe. General Jackson’s army stormed the Indian’s breastwork and broke through it.
General Coffe’s army had formed a line at the bend of the horseshoe across the river from the Indians so the Indians couldn’t cross the river and escape. Over a thousand Indians were killed in that battle. The Upper Creek Nation then asked for unconditional peace. Interestingly, the Lower Creek Indians fought on Jackson’s side in the Creek Indian War. One group of Indians or another fought on our side in every war the United States fought. That holds true even when we were fighting some of their relatives. If they had agreed to band together to fight, things might have turned out better for the Indians. Pa said the treaty the Upper Creeks were forced to sign was so merciless that they soon broke it. Following the battle of Horseshoe Bend and the Indians’ breaking of the treaty, lots of the Upper Creeks started moving to Florida. After the Creek War was over, Pa then helped General Jackson whip the British. Me being only thirteen years old at the end of that war, Pa hadn’t let me go on those trips.
Pa, Ma, my younger brothers, and me had fought off the Indian raids before, Pa and I had never followed them with a large force into East Florida. While we hadn’t, others had. The Indians had been raiding north of Florida for years. Likewise, white Americans had been raiding Indian towns in Florida, taking their horses and cattle, trying to capture runaway slaves, and taking the Indians’ own slaves. Pa had been involved in some of that. Not having any slaves, we hadn’t lost any, however. The Indians had stolen some of our cattle, though. Some of our cattle were in the herd the Seminoles were driving ahead of us. We were hoping to get our animals back and to hit the Indians with such a blow that they would be discouraged from returning to Georgia on a raid.
We didn’t expect any trouble from the Spaniards. They had enough trouble without bothering with us. As we were crossing the St. Marys River a Scot named Gregor MacGregor was solidifying his hold on Fernandina, Florida, which he had just captured from the Spanish. Pirates, smugglers, other riffraff, and the taking of land by white Americans were other problems the Spaniards had to deal with. They had not been able to deal effectively with any of those problems.
The tracks we were following were fresh. There were still damp spots where they came out of the river when they crossed ahead of us. There was just Pa and me on the south side of the river. Our people were still on the north side waiting for us to signal that the Indians had moved on. Pa soon waved for them to cross and we moved ahead to scout.
There were no houses, no people, and no sign of anyone ever having lived in the area through which we passed. It was a true wilderness. Once we got out of the river swamp we were in an area where the vegetation consisted of huge pine trees, five to ten to the acre, and low bush palmettos. There was also lots of swamp and pond areas but the Indians avoided those. We did also in following their trail.
With dark approaching, Major Bailey called a halt so we could set up camp before dark. He ordered that there be no campfires so as not to alert the Indians that we were following them. As soon as the camp was settled in, Pa and I went forward as scouts again. Our task was to locate the Seminole camp and guide Bailey’s outfit forward to attack them in camp if possible. We traveled on foot because our horses had worked hard that day and needed the rest.
Traveling on foot at night without a light bothered me some. Having lived most of my life in south Georgia, I was well aware of all the various things one might step on—rattlers, cottonmouth moccasins, copperheads, gators, and various kinds of varmints. One might even blunder into a panther or a mother bear ready to defend her cubs. We usually had a torch, lamp, or candle when we were hunting at night. Or we just sat around a campfire and listened to the dogs run. We couldn’t possibly have a light that night, though.
In little more than an hour we located the Indians’ camp. Indians don’t make a very big campfire and theirs had burned down to red coals when we found them. The fire wasn’t giving off enough light to give their location away until someone got in close, but the smell of wood smoke was strong from a mile away. We didn’t try to get in too close at first because they would almost certainly have outriders holding the cattle. The herd was too big to build a temporary pen for. They wouldn’t have any guards out other than those holding the cattle, though. At that time the Indians had never been known to initiate an attack at night. They also didn’t post guards at their own encampments at night. They were just as aware as I was of the dangers lurking in the night. Thinking that only a fool would wander around at night without a torch, the Indians, I guess, considered the dangerous animals to be their guards.
As we squatted downwind, a hundred yards from the nearest Indians, Pa whispered, “We best circle their camp and check out the terrain. The major will be asking about that.”
His speaking made me realize we hadn’t spoken in the last hour. Not having any reason to speak, I stood and followed Pa.
A sliver of moon caused every bush to look like a Seminole as we circled the camp and herd. Riding slowly, four mounted Indians circled the herd to keep it in place. The constant hum of crickets chirping and frogs croaking drowned out the sound of their horses’ hooves on the ground as the riders circled the herd. Those noises also covered any slight sound we made. Once we crouched behind a bush and another time we lay behind a log as a rider went by. We both had rubbed dirt on our faces and hands to dull the glow from them.
I’m sure Pa was seeing everything and making mental notes to report back to the colonel. I was just trying to stay invisible and cover Pa’s back. Our reconnaissance complete, we then headed for our camp. Traveling was easier going back to camp. On the return trip, we knew the hostiles were behind us and we moved with less caution.
It was after ten P.M. when we got back to camp and Pa whistled us in. I sure was glad Pa hadn’t sent me back alone. In spite of the moonlight, when he stopped to whistle us in, I didn’t even know we were near the camp. I had been lost for the last hour. The moon was up during our return, which was good for giving us direction, but it sure made things look different.
At the distance our camp was from the hostiles, it was safe to light a candle. Pa then gave his report and drew the positions of the Indian camp in the sand by candlelight.