by Michael Aye
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The easiest route to Fort Meigs was not easy at all. The road, which was really no more than a wide path, was treacherous. It had long been a succession of potholes and mud bogs but now it was made worse by the snow, which was melting in the presence of a bright sun and warm day. The constant travel of fighting men headed home only worsened it. Had the underbrush not been so thick, Jonah and Moses would have taken to the woods. The further south they traveled, the more populated the area became. By the time they arrived at Fort Meigs, they were more tired than they were when they had reached Frenchtown.
Feeling he was being put off by the officer of the guard, Jonah for once was quick to pull out his letter from the president and demand to see the commanding officer. General Clay remembered Jonah and was cordial. He summoned the post surgeon, who sadly stated the girl the Indians had captured had succumbed to her wounds.
Moses, who was listening intently, spoke, “You say the girl died, sir. Was it a girl or a woman? We heard there was one of each.”
“I would say girl in this instance,” the surgeon replied. “She looked to be sixteen or so, blonde hair. She never regained consciousness, so I have no way of knowing her name or who to contact about her death.”
Saddened by the girl’s death, yet happy it was not his Ana, Jonah asked about the men who’d fought the Shawnee.
“We don’t have much of an answer there, I’m afraid,” the general admitted. “River men…men on a flatboat, I was told. They could have headed anywhere, but I’d guess they took the flatboat down the Maumee toward Fort Defiance.”
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Jonah and Moses had served as scouts with General Mad Anthony Wayne when Fort Defiance had been built in August, 1794. Jonah recalled the fort was named Defiance after Charles Scott, who commanded a band of Kentucky militia declared, “I defy the English, Indians, and all the devils of hell to take it.”
The commanding officer at Fort Defiance was of no help. Flatboats and barges were constantly going up and down the rivers. Therefore, unless attention was brought to some particular event, he’d have no reason to know about it. He did recall a Jonah Lee, who was a scout for General Wayne when the fort was built. When asked if he was related to that man, Jonah nodded but didn’t answer.
The fort had been built where the Auglaize and Maumee Rivers came together. From there, numerous waterways connected, some going to Ohio and others going to Indiana. Some even could be followed north to Michigan. It was the end of the trail. Ana was lost. Moses was saddened by Jonah’s gloom. He’d liked Ana and felt she would have made Jonah a good wife. Now it was time to head home. Georgia would be much warmer. Maybe that would help a bit. It couldn’t hurt. Moses was tired of the bone penetrating cold. A warm day and a cane pole on a sunny creek, that’s what he longed for. One of Mr. Lee’s wenches or a Creek squaw thrown in wouldn’t hurt his feelings any either.
PART II
Chapter Four
A crowd had gathered around the small table at the Thunder Tavern and was watching the two men compete in the manly art of arm wrestling. Two men may have been an over statement; one of the men was in his prime, while the other one was a nineteen year old lad, full of piss and vinegar. The crowd was shouting encouragement to the youth as he put forth a gallant effort. The tavern’s owner, a veteran of America’s first war for independence, did not mind the crowd. It was good for business, not a single man watching the duel of willpower and strength did so without a tankard of ale, beer, or cider in his hand.
The front and back doors had been opened as smoke from the cigars and pipes started to build up. Opening the doors created a breeze, and after only a few minutes the smoke had cleared considerably. Old Colonel Lee, who was head of the local area’s militia back in 1775 until the end of the war, leaned on the bar next to his son, Jonah, who was watching his nephew, Keaton Lee, take on Moses. This had been an annual battle since the boy turned sixteen. It was a little late this year due to Jonah and Moses having been away with General Harrison’s forces at the northern frontier.
The men had only returned a few days ago. While both were physically worn out from the war and travel, Colonel Lee, as he was usually addressed, knew there was more going on than physical fatigue. Standing at the bar, sharing a tankard and smoke, Jonah had explained his melancholy.
Trying to think of a bit of wisdom to quote, the colonel said, “Time alone will heal Jonah, and nothing I can say will change that…time and possibly another woman.” The woman must surely have been something indeed for Jonah to act so, the colonel decided.
Many a lass had set her sights on his son. He’d courted, attended socials, dances and such with a few, but when it looked like a girl was getting too serious or controlling, Jonah suddenly had the desire to go on a long hunting trip or adventure. He and Moses would pack up and be gone long enough to send the message that he was not ready to be tied down, and then they’d return.
The colonel had plans for his son to take over the plantation in a few years. He had no doubt he would, after the war was over.
At the table, Keaton was tiring. His arm trembled as he took a breath, and with his last bit of strength gave it all he had. Moses didn’t budge and finally the youth gave up. The crowd cheered. The boy had gone at it with the best arm wrestler in Thunderbolt.
“You didn’t even build up a sweat,” Keaton swore, his hand and head perspiring profusely. He took a bar towel from a serving girl and wiped his face.
Moses smiled and patted the boy on the back and salved the boy’s feelings somewhat when he said, “You’re a lot stronger than last year.”
“Well, just wait until next year,” the boy declared. “Now you can buy me a tankard of ale.” Moses just raised his eyebrows. “Well, a tankard of cider anyway,” Keaton continued. Moses nodded and the girl went to fetch their tankards.
“Good show,” Jonah and the colonel said as they seated themselves at the table where the combat had taken place. Some of the men who’d been watching stopped by to say a word or two before moving on.
“I’ve got news for you,” Keaton blurted out, about to bust with excitement. “I’m going to join the militia. My friends have all joined. I’m the last one.”
“What have your parents said to that?” Jonah asked.
“You know what they said,” the youth replied. “William and John both joined when they were eighteen,” he said, trying to justify his decision. The boys he was speaking of were his cousins.
“And William is dead,” the colonel snapped. Seeing the shock on Jonah and Moses’ faces, he added, “I’m sorry, you didn’t know. You were both gone and mail is slow. We’ll talk more about it later. Now drink up, it’s getting late and your mother will be expecting us for supper.”
“Lord help us if we’re late,” Moses said. “Mama Lee will have our scalps.” And then gazing at the colonel’s balding pate, he threw in, “Well, some of us anyway.”
“Don’t get too big for your britches, boy, this isn’t Keaton you’re playing with,” the colonel scolded with a smile.
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After two weeks at home, Jonah was back to his old self physically and his periods of morose seemed less frequent. He had sent a letter to John Armstrong, the Secretary of War, that was a summary of what he had seen and believed to be the British threat in the northwest. To Jonah’s way of thinking, his service to Armstrong and the president was over, it had ended with the Battle of the Thames. It was a complete surprise when a stable boy arrived and cried out “A sojer from Washington is heah.” Breathing hard, the boy paused to catch his breath. He’d run all the way from the front of the house, around the side porch and down to the stables. “The colonel said for you to come up to the house.”
Jonah and Moses had been looking over their fishing nets and crab traps because Moses had a hankering for a low country boil. This was a type of meal that once eaten would never be forgotten, and it had been over a year since they’d had their taste buds satisfied. They were now ready to lay on a feast a
nd to their way of thinking nothing else but a low country boil would suffice.
Colonel Lee had been reminiscing how he’d first tasted low country boil as a little boy. Slaves would hide small amounts of cargo from ships they were unloading and then go back that evening and get it. Items like crab, shrimp, crawfish, sausage, potatoes, and corn. When they got back to their quarters, they’d take pots and fill them with the ingredients and water, add some spices and boil it. After it was boiled, it would then be poured out over a table or couple of large planks and allowed to cool, and then the whole family would dig in.
Soon, after sampling the concoction, the plantation owners were having it prepared in the kitchen by their cooks. Their meals usually had, in addition to the low country boil, crisp deep fried cornbread, fried shrimp and fried oysters. Duck, quail, and marsh hens were frequently added to the meal as well. If anybody had room left, various desserts were offered, often cakes and puddings. But Jonah’s favorite was a crispy, deep fried apple tart.
Laying down their work, the men quickly washed their hands in a watering trough and headed to the house.
“Who is the guest, James?” Jonah asked the boy.
“I don’t know, sir, but he’s got on a sojer’s suit. I heard the colonel say sumthin’ like, ‘Come in Cap’n, you had a long trip from Washington’.”
“Probably headed to Fort Jackson,” Moses said as the two walked to the house.
Walking in the kitchen door, they were accosted by Aunt Fannie, the cook, “Stop right there and go clean dem boots off. Just cause you been gone awhile don’t mean you can forget yo’ upbringing. Now go back outside and clean off dem boots. I got better things to do side sweeping up floors where two good for nothin’s done tracked it up. Stay outta dat cornbread too, Moses, I see ya. I swear ya’ll act like I ain’t got nothin’ to do but look after you all day.”
After cleaning off their boots and quickly devouring pilfered pieces of hot cornbread, the two wiped their mouths to remove any tell-tell crumbs and then, after wiping their hands on the legs of their buckskin pants, they went back in to meet this captain. The colonel had provided a refreshment for the guest while he waited.
“Sorry to take so long,” Jonah apologized. “We had to wash up a bit.”
The officer rose up with an outstretched hand and ready smile. “It’s good to meet you, sir. My name is Captain Stephen Lieupo. I was not certain you’d be home from the frontier yet or not. I had planned to stop by and ask that word be sent to me once you were home.”
“How can I help you?” Jonah asked, coming straight to the point.
“I come from the war department, sir. Secretary Armstrong sent me. I…ah…serve in much the same capacity as Captain Hampton. I have a dispatch for you, sir.” With that, Captain Lieupo pulled a large letter from a leather pouch.
“When did you leave Washington?” Jonah asked.
“Shortly after we got your dispatches about the victory over the British, sir. I believe you mentioned you would make your way home in the dispatch. I’m sure the secretary knew the likelihood of catching you on the trail was remote, so he sent me directly here. I was allowed a few days personal time, which I spent in Charles Town.”
“I see. Do you know what’s in this?” Jonah asked, holding up the letter.
“Not word for word, sir, but it has to do with the Indian uprisings in Alabama.”
“I heard about the Battle at Burnt Corn and the massacre at Fort Mims down at the tavern,” Jonah admitted. “Well, Captain, it’s only three days till Christmas. I’m not going anywhere until after that, but right now Moses and I are going fishing and see if we can pick-up a bit of fowl if we’re lucky enough to come across any. Do you have any clothes other than your uniform?”
“Not suitable for hunting, sir.”
“Well, come with me, we’re about the same size. I’ll see if we can’t fit you out.”
“You are most generous, sir.”
Jonah stopped and faced Lieupo, “You can stop calling me sir. It’s Jonah.”
Lieupo smiled and replied, “And I’m Steve. My father was Stephen, so I’m just Steve.”
“All right, Steve. This ugly brute is Moses. He’s more like a brother. We grew up together and have never been apart. He’s my absolute closest friend. I tell you this so that you’ll know anything you have to say to me you can say in front of him. It’ll save time, actually, as I will tell him anyway.”
Lieupo nodded, “Thanks for setting things straight to start with. Now that we are alone, I can tell you that Mr. Armstrong wants you to keep an eye on Andy Jackson. He’s been given overall command of dealing with the Indian problem in Alabama.”
“I thought he was a fire eater,” Jonah responded.
“Oh, he is, sir. You’ll not have to push Jackson. No sir, you may have to bridle him and hope he doesn’t get the bit in his teeth.”
“Why didn’t they put someone else in charge?”
“Who? Jackson is the only choice and John Coffee is an able second in command, but he’s not the leader Jackson is. No sir, Jackson was the only choice but it might prove distasteful at times.”
“So, Mr. Armstrong wants me to be his keeper.”
“Actually, sir, I think it was President Madison.”
Chapter Five
Christmas came and went. Captain Steve Lieupo was a guest at the Lee home for the holidays. Jonah and Moses quickly established a solid friendship with the man from the southern part of the state. Lieupo was of French descent but, as Steve put it, it was so far back it didn’t show.
Jonah read the two letters in the package, one from John Armstrong and the other from the president. In talking the matter over with his father, he asked, “How can I turn down the president?”
“You can’t,” Colonel Lee answered.
However, Mama Lee, who had overheard, had an entirely different response. “It’s easy, just say ‘no’. The men in this family have done enough. Your father fought in the War for Independence, you with that mad man, General Wayne, and now you just got back from traipsing all over the north with those soldiers. Ask me, you’ve done enough. It’s time you settle down, take a wife and have me some grandchildren.”
Colonel Lee winced at the mention of taking a wife. Mother did not know the entire story of Anastasia. “Let the boy be,” the colonel said to his wife. “He’ll settle down with the right woman when the time comes.”
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A horse galloped up to the Lee house, its rider jumping out of the saddle before the horse had come to a stop. The rider threw the reins somewhat carelessly over the hitching rail and ran inside. The stable boy was lucky to intercept the horse and tie the reins more securely just as the animal had pulled loose.
Keaton Lee burst into the house excitedly. “I’ve been commissioned as a second lieutenant in the low country militia. At first, I will be at Fort Jackson learning about artillery, but when our unit marches I will be with them.”
“Slow down,” the colonel said, then turning to his wife, he smiled and asked, “Mama, can you have Aunt Fannie fetch us a glass of lemonade to cool this young man down, as you can see he is about to burst.”
Of course, the colonel already knew about the commission and about the boy being assigned to the relatively safe Fort Jackson. In fact, he, along with Jonah, Moses, and Captain Lieupo, had arranged the whole thing.
“The fort was named for James Jackson,” Colonel Lee pointed out to Captain Lieupo, “Not old Andy. Colonel James Jackson was from Britain but fought on the Colonial side. At age twenty-five, he accepted the surrender of the British in Savannah.”
The fort had been manned continuously since 1812 when the war had begun. Situated on a bluff as it was, facing the Savannah River, the fort’s guns had easily defended American ships from British warships and privateers raiding the area. Lieupo had joked about the thunder from Thunderbolt. This comment led to a discussion as to how the town’s name came to be.
Jonah said that as a child his father had s
worn a large rock had been shattered by a thunderbolt, causing a spring to gush from the ground. General James Oglethorpe built a settlement and a fort there, naming it Thunderbolt.
“I’m not surprised he built a settlement around a spring,” Lieupo responded.
“You ain’t smelled it,” Moses chided. “It doesn’t taste too bad but it smells to high heaven.”
Talk then went to the rumors that during the ‘first war,’ Thunderbolt was a seat for the rebellion against the British. Compared to its neighbor, Savannah, the town was almost all rebels, at least according to the British.
This then led to discussing the McIntosh-Gwinnett duel. While both were staunch supporters of the American cause, they differed politically.
“McIntosh called Gwinnett a ‘scoundrel and lying rascal’ on the floor of the Georgia Assembly. Father was there listening and was shocked at the tirade. Of course, Gwinnett demanded an apology, which McIntosh refused to give. Our neighbor is James Wright.” Jonah continued, “It was in one of his fields that the two met for a duel.”
“The colonel was there and seen it all,” Moses added.
Nodding, Jonah started again, “Father said they walked off twelve paces, turned, aimed and fired at almost the same time. Both were hit, Gwinnett in the thigh and McIntosh lower in the leg.”
“Makes you wonder if they really meant to kill each other,” Lieupo said. “That, or they were poor shots.”
“Well, Gwinnett died three days later. General Washington was so afraid some of Gwinnett’s people would take revenge on McIntosh, even though he was acquitted at a trial, that he had McIntosh carted off to Valley Forge.”
Chuckling, Moses added, “Not only was he shot, he had his arse frozen off for his troubles.”
“Well, that’s better than the opposite,” Lieupo said.
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Word about Fort Mims was still a topic of conversation, but just as the men were about ready to pack up and pull out, word came that Jackson’s army had fought a battle on November third at a place called Tallushatchee, and then six days later another battle was fought at Talladega. Jackson’s army seemed to be taking the battle to the Creeks. The next day a scout rode into Fort Jackson with news of the battle they were calling the ‘canoe fight’. This involved men from Claiborne’s army and was on the twelfth day of November. But that was not all. On December twenty-third, two days before Christmas, a battle was fought that was now being called the Battle of Holy Ground, or as it was called by the Creeks, Econochaca. This area had the largest concentration of Red Stick warriors thus far. It was also a staging area for food and supplies. William Weatherford, also known as Red Eagle, had planned the attack on Fort Mims. It was said it was called Econochaca because the Creek prophets performed ceremonies to establish a spiritual barrier or protection that they believed would have the power to destroy any white man who passed through it, so the name actually meant Holy Ground in the white man’s tongue.
