"The stillness of death prevailed."

While the 1785 Treaty of New Hopewell officially ended fighting with the Cherokees, a rogue band of warriors led by the Chickamauga chiefs Doublehead and Dragging Canoe continued their resistance against the white settlement of land they considered native soil.

In the terms of that treaty, the Cherokees gave up land south of the Cumberland River in return for protection of other tribal lands, but the Chickamauga Cherokees would have none of it. For these warriors, the battle continued.

Many historians consider the Battle of Rock Island an important turning point in the Indian Wars of Tennessee. This small but brutal engagement on the banks of the Caney Fork River was the final armed conflict of the Indian Wars before the Cherokees signed the Treaty of Tellico, effectively ending hostilities between the two factions.

Years later, surviving veterans of this engagement recalled their participation in the battle in accounts recorded by Lyman Draper, the nineteenth-century antiquarian who made it his mission to "rescue from oblivion the memory of its early pioneers and to obtain and preserve narratives of their exploits."‎

Other writers published recollections of the battle, including the Reverend James Gwin, a veteran of the Revolutionary War who also fought against the Cherokees at Caney Fork and Nickajack. On March 21, 1834, the Western Methodist newspaper published Reverend Gwin's account of his participation in the Battle of Rock Island. This is his story...

"Lieutenant Snoddie's Battle With The Indians," written by the Rev. James Gwin for the [Nashville] Western Methodist, March 21, 1834

   This battle was fought in the Horse Shoe Bend of the Caney Fork river, in November, 1792. At that time the people of this country were generally shut up in stations and block houses; and we did not at any time or place feel that we were safe from Indian violence. The plough-man had to be guarded in his field while tending his crop. The sentinel was generally placed outside of the field at those points where the foes would most likely make their approach, or seek to be in ambush. The time of the greatest danger was in going out in the morning to our work, for at such times we did not know at what moment we would hear the yells of savages and the report of the Indian’s gun. They would lie in close concealment, and the first discovery we would make of them, would be by the blaze of their rifles and so frequently was the laborer arrested and killed on his way to his work that we adopted the following method: early in the morning, before any person would venture out to his farm or field, we would take our rifles and mount some of our swiftest horses and set out our hunting or bear dogs and pass round the field or place of labor, and scour the woods; then guard the laborer as above noticed.



The Battle of Rock Island occurred on the Horseshoe Bend of the Caney Fork River.
Image credit: Rock Island State Park.

   We had to keep guard at night in our block houses, for we were often attacked in the night. The enemy would come sometimes with torches of hickory bark and attempt to set our station on fire. About this time a large body of Indians attacked Greenfield station. It was early in the morning before any person had left the station. The enemy advanced within a short distance of the station before they were discovered, and with an awful yell the savages shouted to the attack. The station was feeble in point of numbers, for there were but few men in it—but by the efforts of a few brave fellows, led on by the gallant William Hall, now General Hall of Sumner county, the station was saved. This brave youth, not then more than 18 years old, under a shower of arrows and rifle balls threw open the gate, and followed by the few men that he had, rushed upon the foe, drove them from their coverts, and by a well directed fire which was sent among them, brought several of their leaders to the ground; at which they gathered up their dead and fled to the wilderness.

   At length the Indians became so troublesome that we had to form scouting parties and surprise them at their camps, and so scout the country. Lieutenant Snoddie was ordered out on a tour of this kind. He started with thirty four mounted men, with rifles or muskets—crossed Cumberland river and ranged up Caney Fork river. We had travelled about thirty miles through the wilderness, when we discovered a large Indian camp, which we fired upon, and found in it but one Indian—and he made his escape; all the rest being out hunting as we supposed. From packages and other things, we were convinced that there could not be belonging to the camp less than fifty or sixty warriors. We took all their plunder, ammunition and implements of war which they had left at the camp. It was now near sun set and we determined to encamp within a short distance of them, and to pursue them in the morning. We made choice of a high bluff on the river, where there was an ancient stone wall, but now fallen down and lying in ruins. We laid off our encampment in a semicircle, with each wing reaching to the Bluff, and our horses and packages brought into the centre. The ground was broken and the timber small, we prepared ourselves in the best way we could for an attack, if the Indians should have courage enough to make one, all but the sentinels lay down to rest, but not to sleep. It was not long however, before the Indians began to collect their forces, and this they accomplished in perfect character with their wild and savage nature. They would imitate the wolf in his howl, screams like the panther—and then they would bark like a fox, while others hooted like an owl; and indeed the notes of almost all kinds of wild animals were heard during the night. At length a most horrid yell, supposed to be made by the chief, designated the place where all were to meet. The night was dark and rainy, and in the darkness of the night they examined the ground we occupied and held intercourse with each other by wild and savage notes. These movements produced sensations of mind more awful and terrific than even the rush of battle. 

"The Passage" - Cherokee Indian statue in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Author photo.

   A little before day, all was hushed; the stillness of death prevailed, except the pattering of the falling rain. During this silence, the Indians crept up within forty steps of us, and the first discovery we had of them was the snapping of their guns. In consequence of the rain that fell during the night, there priming had become damp, and but few of their guns went off; this was much in our favor—for our arms were well secured, and this gave us a decided advantage over them. As soon as the attempt was made to fire, the yell for blood was heard almost all round our line; for they had well nigh surrounded us. Our men also shouted to the battle and poured in a shower of rifle balls among them. It was now day-light, and the Indians brought all their force to bear upon the centre of our ranks, and the contest became close and desperate. At the first fire, four of our men broke, left us and made the best of their way home. This left but thirty to contend with sixty warriors, led on by a Shawnee chief. The enemy drew up within twenty five steps and fought bravely; but they had to contend with a Spartan band who seldom threw away a shot. 

   James Madell, a cool and skillful marksman, had taken his stand in the centre of the line; the courageous Lattimore and Seaberry stood behind him.—They kept up a constant fire until Lattimore and Seaberry had both fallen to rise no more. Madell still stood at his post, shooting from the right side of his tree, but which his body was protected. After having shot down 2 or 3 Indians, he discovered the chief lying all along on the ground loading his gun. Madell had but two balls in his gun; he reserved his fire and waited on the chief till he would rise to shoot, at length he raised his head above the grass to fire, and received the two balls of Madell’s gun down his throat, which dropped him dead upon his arms. As soon as the chief had fallen, the war-whoop ceased, and the Indians determined to carry their dead chief with them off the field, which was contrary to the wishes of our men,--so for a few moments the battle raged anew around the body of the fallen chief, until H. Shoddar, a Dutchman, who had a large British musket, put seven rifle balls in it and fired in the midst of them—at which they broke and left their chief behind, though they carried off the rest of their dead and wounded into a thick canebrake just below on the river.

   Thus ended our little battle. We learned afterwards that 13 Indians were killed and several wounded, who died soon after. We had 2 killed and 3 wounded; one of the wounded we had to bring in on a horse litter. We lost also several of our horses in the engagement; but, truly the victory was on our side.


 
Gordon Belt is an information professional, archives advocate, public historian, and author of The History Press book, John Sevier: Tennessee's First Hero, which examines the life of Tennessee's first governor, John Sevier, through the lens of history and memory. On The Posterity Project, Gordon offers reflections on archives, public history, and memory from his home state of Tennessee.

SELECTED SOURCES:

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"Lieutenant Snoddie's Battle With The Indians," Western Methodist, March 21, 1834.

"Reminiscences of Snoddy's Fight, November 1793" (From Capt. Wm. Reid, of Sumner Co., Tenn. about 79 in 1844.) Draper Manuscripts, 32S 490-493.

John Carr. Early Times in Middle Tennessee. Nashville, Tenn.: Parthenon Press, 1958, c1857.

John Haywood. Civil and Political History of the State of Tennessee from Its Earliest Settlement Up To the Year 1796. New York: Arno Press, 1971, c1823.

John P. Brown. Old Frontiers; the story of the Cherokee Indians from earliest times to the date of their removal to the West, 1838. Kingsport, Tenn.: Southern Publishers, Inc., 1938, pp. 362-363.

Rickey Butch Walker. Doublehead: Last Chickamauga Cherokee Chief. Heart of Dixie Publishing, 2012.

Albert V. Goodpasture. "Indian Wars and Warriors in Old Southwest." Tennessee Historical Magazine, Vol. 4, Nashville, 1915. [cited in Brown, 363n29]

“They concluded that we came out of the clouds”

In 1834, a debate raged in Congress over whether or not to extend pension benefits to veterans of the Indian Wars. Newspapers published impassioned speeches by elected representatives holding strong opinions on both sides of the issue. False claims for Revolutionary War benefits led to calls for reform and a hesitancy to extend benefits to those who fought in the Indian Wars of the far reaches of America's first frontier.

For those in favor of granting pensions to veterans of the Indian Wars, the rhetoric in these debates often cast these men as heroes. Members of Congress from southern states, in particular, argued that these soldiers valiantly defended their homes and families against brutal Indian attacks, and had earned the right to claim pension benefits in their later years in their defense of the Old Southwest. In response to criticism by a fellow Congressman who labeled the early settlers as "plunderers and savage murderers," Tennessee Rep. Balie Peyton declared:

   I, sir, am proud to trace my origin to that race of men... I value the reputation of that band of patriots as dearer than gold... They were no "plunderers." No, sir, they were soldiers, true and pure; and a soldier never stains his hand with "plunder." The brave are always tender and humane. They "plunderers!" What temptation was there in the frowning forest of the West to invite to "plunder." None, sir, none.

Nashville's Western Methodist newspaper published many of these debates, and after reading one of the articles a Methodist minister named James Gwin responded by writing to the editor of the newspaper to recall his own participation in the Indian Wars of Tennessee.

A native North Carolinian, Reverend Gwin and his brothers served in the Revolutionary War, and in 1790 he removed his family to Tennessee, settling in the border region between Kentucky and Tennessee, later participating in battles with Indians at Caney Fork and Nickajack. On September 12, 1794, an army of about 500 men from Middle Tennessee, East Tennessee and Kentucky attacked Nickajack in retaliation for the Chickamaugas continued assaults on the white settlements. Gwin was among the early settlers of this region to participate in this battle. This is Reverend Gwin's story as recorded in the April 11, 1834 edition of the Western Methodist newspaper:

   In reading over in your paper two or three weeks since the remarks made in Congress by the Hon. Mr. Peyton, of Tennessee, on the Nickajack expedition, it brought afresh to my mind events long since past by. I called to mind the forms of my old companions in arms, with whom I suffered in those times of tribulation which tried men’s souls; but alas! There are few now living who bore a part in our earlier Indian wars. I concluded I would write a brief sketch of the events of that expedition for insertion in your very interesting paper.

   The Indian town called Nickajack was settled by an amalgamation of different tribes of Indians, called by the general name of Chickamaugas. It was situated in what is now Indian territory, on the south bank of the Tennessee river, at the base of the Look-Out mountain, between two creeks that disgorged their sluggish waters into the Tennessee. This town or Indian fort was called by the Indians the “Yellow Jackets, nest.” It was the rendezvous of all the southern as well as northern hostile warriors; here they formed their plans of attack on the white settlements. They considered their situation impregnable, and boasted of being able to raise three thousand warriors in one day from the adjacent towns and forests (as we were informed by Fenelstone, a half-breed, who deserted from them, gave us information of their intended attack on Nashville, and was our guide when we assaulted Nickajack.) Proud and haughty in their independent security, they paid no attention to treaties. At length they became so troublesome that no alternative was to be chosen between breaking them up or leaving the country.

   Tennessee, at that time, could not boast of men enough to ensure success to the expedition, and at the same time leave enough at home to guard and protect the women and children. Gen. Robertson, therefore, sent to Kentucky for help; it was granted. The brave Col. Whitley (who fell in the last Indian war at the battle of the Thames) soon appeared at Nashville with 180 brave Kentuckians, well armed and appointed; our men were all ready; we were joined by Major Ore of East Tennessee, the commander of the rangers, who had been on an expedition searching for the Indians on the Cumberland mountain; having heard of our expedition, he hastened and joined us with 80 men just as we were ready to start. We now numbered in all 600 men; we took the wilderness with Fenelstone for our guide. Passing on in good order, we reached the Tennessee river on the fourth day of our march about midnight. It was in the month of August, about the year 1798—warm and sultry. We commenced making a few boats with frames of sticks, on which were stretched raw hides that we had packed up and brought along for that purpose. While the boats were getting ready two men swam across the river and kindled up a fire on the opposite shore so as to direct us across, and the men soon commenced crossing. The boats carried the guns and those soldiers who could not swim; others swam across, so that before eight o’clock in the morning, 272 men had crossed over safely.

   We were then four miles below Nickajack and three miles above Crow town; and the morning was so far advanced we could not safely wait for any more to get over for fear of being discovered. We resolved to make the attack even with this small number. Col. Montgomery had got over and took command of the Tennessee troops, and Col. Whitley of the Kentuckians. As the lower creek cut off our direct approach to the town, we had to take a circuit of seven miles and cross over a spur of the mountain so as to descend upon the town in the rear. We would run with all our speed a few moments and then lie down flat on the ground until we took breath and then would run again. We thus soon reached the mountain undiscovered, and sat down and rested on the cliffs quite overlooking the town. We sat there in gloomy silence nearly half an hour—then slid down the rocks unperceived and formed in the underwood in the rear of the town. Whitley commanded the right wing, Montgomery the centre, and Ore the left. We advanced and found the Indians at breakfast. They knew nothing of us until they saw the flash and heard the rifles speak; and then so much were they deceived that the warriors near the bank of the river when they heard our guns came running with drums and shouting for joy, supposing that some of their own people had returned from a successful excursion against the whites, and were firing off their guns in triumph.

   Many of the Indians were shot down on the spot, and the remainder made for the river; and as many as could getting into their canoes, and others swimming with their heads the most of the time under water; yet when they rose to take a breath, the unerring rifle would send them down again, while a red gush of blood boiling up to the surface of the river showed too plainly that they would never rise again. Those in the canoes could not lift a hand to use their paddles; they lay stupefied in the bottoms of their frail barks, while the rifle ball would search them out like an inevitable death warrant.

   During the space of forty-five minutes, we killed 143 Indians, took all the women and children whom we could find as prisoners, and brought them off with us. In this affair we had only two men slightly wounded.

   Long Town lay on the river 2 or 3 miles above.—The troops hastened on to attack it. The path lay along the river bank and close under the ridge of the mountain. When about half way between the two towns, the Indians made a furious attack upon us from the mountain above. The firing was quite sharp for a few minutes—but as their chief lifted his head over a rock to fire, he was shot through the skull and came rolling down the mountain like a huge lump of shapeless flesh. The Indians immediately fled. The brave Thomas, of Nashville, here got his death wound.—The savages firing from above shot him in the bosom, and the ball came out behind quite low down his back. We brought him off alive on a horse litter, but he died soon after our return.

   Our men advanced, burnt Long Town and some other smaller towns unopposed, as the Indians had all fled; we then returned and crossed over to our camp without any other loss than the three wounded (one mortally) mentioned before. We took about 20 canoes, on which we put the wounded, the prisoners, and the goods found in Nickajack—for the Spanish had a store in this fort, and no doubt many villainous Spaniards were killed in the battle, who had often stirred up the Indians against the early American settlers.

   After the canoes had started down the river a band of Indians on the other side of the river from Nickajack commenced an attack, but desisted when told by Fenelstone in the Indian language that if they fired another gun their women and children and prisoners should be instantly put to death. At this moment a squaw who had her infant lashed to her back sprung from one of the canoes and swam to the shore in sight of all our troops, and made her escape.

   Thus closed one of the days of severest fatigue ever experienced in the West. This day’s work closed the Indian wars which had raged for many years with great barbarity. Gen. Robertson left a written notice at his camp, informing the Indians, that if any more murders were committed on the whites, he would raise an army, destroy all their towns and burn their corn. They took the alarm; their strong hold was broken up: many of their chiefs killed, and they sued for peace. A treaty followed—and from that time until the last war they lived in peace.

   All their prisoners were returned to them. The squaws informed us that they had often advised their young men and warrior chiefs to quit killing the white people and stealing their horses or that we would come and kill them all—but their men would not mind them. When they saw us come suddenly upon them on the morning of the battle they concluded that we came out of the clouds.

 
Gordon Belt is an information professional, archives advocate, public historian, and author of The History Press book, John Sevier: Tennessee's First Hero, which examines the life of Tennessee's first governor, John Sevier, through the lens of history and memory. On The Posterity Project, Gordon offers reflections on archives, public history, and memory from his home state of Tennessee.



SELECTED SOURCES

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"Early Settlers of the West." Western Methodist (Nashville, Tenn.), March 14, 1834.

"The Battle of Nickajack by the Rev. James Gwin." Western Methodist (Nashville, Tenn.), April 11, 1834.

Image: The Tennessee River Gorge. Author photo.

Illustration: "Expedition against the Cherokee" courtesy of the Tennessee State Museum.