Elsie and Her Namesakes

"Oh, who are you now?" queried the little fellow, turning half round in his chair to look behind him.

"Somebody that knows a thing or two," replied the same voice, now apparently coming from a distant part of the room.

"Oh, you do, do you?" laughed Ned. "Well, I think I begin to know who you are," he added, turning a half-convinced, half-inquiring look upon Cousin Ronald.

"Ha! ha! Some little boys think themselves very wise, even when they don't understand a matter at all," returned the voice of the invisible speaker.

"But I do, though," returned Ned; "I know Cousin Ronald and a thing or two about what he can do. But it's fun, anyhow; it seems so real, even if I do know he's doing it."

"And you think I'm your Cousin Ronald, do you? Do I look like that old gent?" asked the voice, seeming to come from within an adjoining stateroom.

"Old gent isn't a nice name to give a real gentleman like our Cousin Ronald," retorted Ned in a tone of disgust, which caused a laugh of amusement from most of those about the table.

"There, my son, that will do now; let us see you finish your supper quietly," said Captain Raymond, and Ned obeyed.

CHAPTER IX

The next morning the weather was such as made the Dolphin's saloon a more attractive place to her passengers than was her deck; so there they all gathered and sat chatting cosily together till at length the children began asking Grandma Elsie for another of her interesting historical stories.

"I think it is Captain Raymond's turn to be narrator now," she said with a smiling glance at him, "and I feel inclined to be one of the audience."

"And I am inclined to be a listener to a story from you, mother," he returned pleasantly; "or if you are unwilling to entertain us in that way this morning, perhaps Cousin Ronald may feel inclined to do so."

"Thanks for the invitation, captain, but I would vastly prefer the rôle of listener," was Mr. Lilburn's response to that, and after a moment's silent consideration the captain said: "As we are now passing through the Gulf of Mexico, some distance south of the States of Alabama and Mississippi, I suppose a few passages from their history may prove interesting and instructive to at least the younger members of my audience. Shall I give them?"

The query seemed addressed to the children, and was promptly replied to by a chorus of expressions of pleasure in the prospect; for all there knew the captain to be an interesting narrator of historical events.

"I shall begin with Alabama, just now the nearer of the two States," he said. "The word Alabama signifies 'Here we rest.' It is an Indian expression. Fernando de Soto was the first white man who ever entered the State. That was in 1540. His coming displeased the Indians who lived there and considered the country their own, therefore they opposed his progress in several battles. He found them more civilized than in other sections of America which he visited. Just above the confluence of the Tombigbee and Alabama rivers they had a place called Maubila, consisting of eighty handsome houses, each large enough to contain a thousand men. Round about them was a high wall, made of immense trunks of trees set deep in the ground and close together, strengthened with cross-timbers and interwoven with large vines.

"De Soto and his men entered the town, and were presently treacherously attacked by ten thousand of the Indians. The Spaniards resisted the attack, and a battle ensued which lasted nine hours, and resulted in the destruction of the town and the killing of six thousand Indians. The Spaniards, too, suffered terribly, lost eighty men, forty-five horses and all their baggage and camp equipage."

"So it was very bad for both armies, wasn't it, papa?" said Ned.

"Yes, it was, indeed," replied his father, "but the Spaniards were the ones most to blame. This country belonged to the Indians; what right had the Spaniards to come here and try to take it from them? Surely, none at all. What presumption it was in the sovereigns of Europe to give to whomsoever they pleased great tracts of land in America to which they themselves had no real right.

"But to go back to my story. The Indians were desperate, and fought the invaders, contesting every rood of the ground from the hour of their landing. And naturally, whenever a Spaniard fell into their hands, they returned cruelty for cruelty; and the Spaniards were very, very cruel to men, women and children; but De Soto grew tired of having the cruelty of his men returned upon them, therefore he invited a powerful Creek chief to meet him for a friendly talk. But the chief scorned the invitation, called the white men by the names they deserved, and gave them warning that he would never cease making war upon them as long as one of their hated race remained in the country. And both he and his followers carried out their threat, resorting to ambush and stealthy surprises, killing scores, whose heads they chopped off and carried on the ends of poles.

"But some of this you have been told before in our talks over the history of Florida.

"De Soto crossed Northern Georgia and Northeastern Alabama to Maubila, where they had that terrific fight of which I have just told you. The following winter was a severe one, passed by the Spaniards in the country of the Chickasaws, around the tributaries of the Yazoo. In the spring a furious engagement took place with the Chickasaws, in which the Spaniards came near being annihilated. In April the forlorn remnant began again tramping through the wilderness, blindly groping for the land where De Soto had been told he would find great quantities of gold.

"In the month of May, 1541, De Soto and his men reached the bank of the Mississippi River, above the mouth of the St. Francis. The men stood a long time, gazing upon it with awe and admiration, for it is one of the mightiest rivers of the world, and they were the first Europeans to see it at any distance above its mouth."

"And did they stop there, papa?" asked Ned.

"No, my son; they were not yet ready to give up their search for gold and for the Pacific Ocean, which they believed was now not far away."

"Didn't know much about geography, did they?" laughed Ned.

"No; scarcely anything of that of this continent," replied his father; "but perhaps my little son is not much wiser now in regard to what was then the condition of what is now this great country of ours. Can you tell him, Grace, what it was at that time?"

"In 1540, papa? A wilderness peopled only by savages and wild beasts. It was not until 1620 that the pilgrims came to Massachusetts. The first settlement in Maryland was not made until 1631. Virginia's first settlers came in 1607. But the French Huguenots planted a colony in South Carolina as early as May, 1562, twenty years later than De Soto's visit to Alabama. Georgia was the last settled of the thirteen original colonies."

"And those thirteen colonies were all there was of our country at the time of the Revolutionary War, weren't they?" asked Elsie Dinsmore.

"Yes," replied the captain; "thirteen colonies at the beginning of that war, thirteen States before it ended.

"But to go back to the story of Alabama. It seems to have been left to the Indians until the spring of 1682, when Robert Cavalier de la Salle descended the Mississippi to its mouth, named the country Louisiana, and took possession of it in the name of the King of France. All the Mississippi valley was then claimed by France, but in 1763 she ceded it to England. West Florida, from 1764 to 1781, included quite a good deal of the present territory of Alabama and Mississippi. In May of 1779 Spain declared war against Great Britain, and the next March the Spanish governor of Louisiana captured Mobile. In 1783 Great Britain ceded to the United States all territory east of the Mississippi, except Florida, which she ceded back to Spain.

"Alabama was at that time almost entirely in the occupation of the Indians. There was a garrison of Spanish troops at Mobile, one at St. Stephen's, on the Tombigbee, and there were trading posts at different points in the South and West. And now the United States bought the whole country west of what is now Georgia to the Mississippi, and in 1817 made it the Mississippi Territory. Fort Stoddard was built near the confluence of the Alabama and Tombigbee. During the War of 1812 with Great Britain there was a great deal of fighting with the Indians of Alabama. The Creeks were the principal tribe, and in 1812 they were stirred up to war by Tecumseh, the celebrated Shawnee warrior. In August they attacked Fort Mimms; the garrison made a desperate resistance, but were overcome, and out of three hundred men, women and children, only seventeen survived the massacre.

"This aroused the adjoining States to action. Generals Jackson, Claiborn, Floyd and Coffee entered the Indian country and defeated the Indians at Talladega, where two hundred and ninety of their warriors were slain. In the same month (November) General Floyd attacked the Creeks on their sacred ground, at Autossee. Four hundred of their houses were burned and two hundred of their warriors killed, among whom were the kings of Autossee and Tallahassee. The last stand of the Creeks was at Horseshoe Bend, where the Indians fought desperately, but were defeated with the loss of nearly six hundred men. The remaining warriors submitted, and in 1814 a treaty of peace was made, and the remainder of the Creeks have removed beyond the Mississippi.

"After that people poured in from Georgia, the two Carolinas, Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia. The State grew rapidly in wealth and population, so that in 1860 it was the fourth of the South in importance and the second in the amount of cotton produced."

"It was a slave State, wasn't it, papa, and one that seceded in the time of the Civil War?" asked Elsie Raymond.

"Yes; on the 11th of January, 1861, the State seceded from the Union and joined the Southern Confederacy. A sad thing for her, for a great deal of the desperate fighting took place within her borders. The losses in the upper counties were immense, and raiding parties frequently desolated the central ones. Forts Gaines and Morgan, defending the entrance to Mobile Bay, were besieged and taken by the United States forces in 1865, and in the same year the victory of Mobile Bay, the severest naval battle of the war, was won by the national forces under Admiral Farragut."

"But the folks there are not rebs any more, I suppose," remarked Ned in a tone of inquiry.

"No, my son," replied the captain. "I believe the most, if not all, of them are good Union people, now proud and fond of this great country, the United States of America."

CHAPTER X

"Your story of Alabama was very interesting, I think, papa," said Elsie Raymond, "and if you are not too tired, won't you now tell us about Mississippi?"

"Yes," replied the captain. "I have told you about De Soto and his men coming there in 1540. At that time what is now the territory of that State was divided between the Chickasaw, Choctaw and Natchez Indians. It was more than a hundred years afterward, in 1681, that La Salle descended the Mississippi River from the Illinois country to the Gulf of Mexico; and in 1700 Iberville, the French governor of Louisiana, planted a colony on Ship Island, on the gulf coast. That settlement was afterward removed to Biloxi, on the mainland. Bienville, another governor of Louisiana, established a post on the Mississippi River, and called it Fort Rosalie. That was in 1761, and now the city of Natchez occupies that spot. A few years later, in 1729, the Natchez Indians, growing alarmed at the increasing power of the French, resolved to exterminate them. On the 28th of November of that year they attacked the settlement of Fort Rosalie and killed the garrison and settlers – seven hundred persons. When that terrible news reached New Orleans, Bienville resolved to retaliate upon the murderers. The Chickasaws were enemies of the Natchez; he applied to them for help, and they furnished him with sixteen thousand warriors. With them and his own troops Bienville besieged the Natchez in their fort, but they escaped in the night and fled west of the Mississippi. The French followed and forced them to surrender, then took them to New Orleans, sent them to the island of St. Domingo, and sold them as slaves."

"All of them, papa?" asked Ned.

"Nearly all, I believe," replied his father; "they were but a small nation, and very little was heard of them after that. The Chickasaws were a large and powerful tribe living in the fertile region of the upper Tombigbee; the French knew that they had incited the Natchez against them, and now Bienville resolved to attack them. In 1736 he sailed from New Orleans to Mobile with a strong force of French troops and twelve hundred Choctaw warriors. From Mobile he ascended the Tombigbee River in boats for five hundred miles, to the southeastern border of the present county of Pontotoc. The Chickasaw fort was a powerful stronghold about twenty-five miles from that point.

"Bienville took measures to secure his boats, then advanced against the enemy. He made a determined assault on their fort, but was repulsed with the loss of one hundred men, which so discouraged him that he dismissed the Choctaws with presents, threw his cannon into the Tombigbee, re-embarked in his boats, floated down the river to Mobile, and from there returned to New Orleans.

"He had expected to have the co-operation of a force of French and Indians from Canada, commanded by D'Artaguette, the pride and flower of the French at the North, and some Indians from Canada, assisted by the Illinois chief Chicago, from the shore of Lake Michigan. All these came down the river unobserved to the last Chickasaw bluff. From there they penetrated into the heart of the country. They encamped near the appointed place of rendezvous with the force of Bienville, and there waited for some time for intelligence from him. It did not come, and the Indian allies of D'Artaguette became so impatient for war and plunder that they could not be restrained, and at length he (D'Artaguette) consented to lead them to the attack. He drove the Chickasaws from two of their fortified villages, but was severely wounded in his attack on the third. Then the Indians fled precipitately, leaving their wounded commander weltering in his blood. Vincennes, his lieutenant, and their spiritual guide and friend, the Jesuit Senate, refused to fly, and shared the captivity of their gallant leader."

"And did the Indians kill them, papa?" asked Ned.

"No, not then; hoping to receive a great ransom for them from Bienville, who was then advancing into their country, they treated them with great care and attention; but when he retreated they gave up the hope of getting anything for their prisoners, therefore put them to a horrible death, burning them over a slow fire, leaving only one alive to tell of the dreadful fate to their countrymen."

"Oh, how dreadful!" sighed Elsie Raymond. "I'm thankful we did not live in those times and places."

"Yes, so am I," said her father. "God has been very good to us to give us our lives in this good land, and these good times. It is years now since the Indians were driven out of Alabama and Mississippi. They and Florida passed into the hands of the English in 1763. In 1783 the country north of the thirty-first parallel was included within the limits of the United States. According to the charter of Georgia, its territory extended to the Mississippi, but in 1795 the legislature of that State sold to the general government that part which now constitutes the States of Alabama and Mississippi. In 1798 the Territory of Mississippi was organized, and on the 10th of December, 1817, it was admitted into the Union as a State. On the 9th of January, 1861, the State seceded from the Union and joined the Southern Confederacy. And some dreadful battles were fought there in our Civil War – those of Iuka and Corinth, Jackson, Champion Hills and other places. That war caused an immense destruction of property. The State was subject to military rule until the close of the year 1869, when it was readmitted into the Union."

The captain paused, seeming to consider his story of the settlement of the State of Mississippi completed; but Grandma Elsie presently asked: "Isn't there something more of interest in the story of the Natchez which you could tell us, captain?"

"Perhaps so, mother," he replied. "It was a remarkable tribe, more civilized than any other of the original inhabitants of these States. Their religion was something like that of the fire-worshippers of Persia. They called their chiefs 'suns' and their king the 'Great Sun.' A perpetual fire was kept burning by the ministering priest in the principal temple, and he also offered sacrifices of the first fruits of the chase; and in extreme cases, when they deemed their deity angry with them, they offered sacrifices of their infant children to appease his wrath. When Iberville was there, one of the temples was struck by lightning and set on fire. The keeper of the fane begged the squaws to throw their little ones into the fire to appease the angry god, and four little ones were so sacrificed before the French could persuade them to desist from the horrid rite. The 'Great Sun,' as they called their king, had given Iberville a hearty welcome to his dominions, paying him a visit in person. He was borne to Iberville's quarters on the shoulders of some of his men, and attended by a great retinue of his people. A treaty of friendship was made, and the French given permission to build a fort and establish a trading-post among the Indians – things that, however, were not done for many years. A few stragglers at that time took up their abode among the Natchez, but it was not until 1716 that any regular settlement was made; then Fort Rosalie was erected at that spot on the bank of the Mississippi where the city of Natchez now stands.