This is a true recollection by a man named Mussie Nann a resident who lived by Suwannee Springs in the mid 1840s. I wonder how many of the present generation, think or can realize what their parents and predecissions had to undergo, to get this beautiful land at its present state of cultivation. Seventy five years ago, the greater frontier of this section of Florida was wilderness, with the expectation of here and there a house, strongly built, with loop holes round the house, on a line were joist or “jists” as they were called in those days. The houses were built of logs, and covered with boards, and the cracks between the logs, ceild with the same kind of boards, “clafrboards” as they were called ion those days, or else logs were hewed and dove tail together, thus making a good light wall, without its necessity of ceiling the windows were placed higher up than modern windows, and finished off with good, strong wooden shutters, and door shutters were just marvels of strength and durability, and the inevitable look out holes were all around the wall, just above the door. Once in a long while, you would see a framed house but it was exception, and not the rule; only the very wealthy, could afford the expense, for all the lumber sawed in those days, were done with a whip-saw, run by hand. There was (at the time of which I write) a strong hold at the Suwannee Sulphur Springs where the women and children were sent in times of danger. It was a beautiful country, with its lofty times, and magnificent magnolias and its live oaks, with their limbs festooned with grey moss, waving to and fro, in the passing breeze, the orange trees, in their wide state added to their evergreen beauty to aid the scenes of loveliness, and myriads of wild flowers, of all colors of the rainbow, perfumed the air with their fragrance, and it really looked as though nature meant that the “land of flowers”, should be the fairest land God’s sun shined on. It was early in the spring 1840’s and nearly all the farmers had come to their little “clearings”, to start their crops, and make provision for another year. Some of them brought their families from the springs to their own little cabins, thinking that the good wife and children could greatly assist in the lighter part of the field work, and make their little home happy and cheerful, when the days work was done. The wife always had her “patch” of cotton, which she cultivated and picked herself, out of which she spun “warp and filling” to make family clothing. These good people thought all danger of Indian depredations were past, for that year, and felt comparatively safe in returning to their homes, and going on with their work, but people were never more mistaken. One day just after 12 o’clock, Capt. Mc., dent his Wagoner out after some lumber (he was building a framed house) which had gotten out close to a little “branch”. Never thinking of danger, when in a very few minutes, the Wagoner and a small colored boy ran home, calling as loud as they could, “Indians, Indians”! Of course every person on the place, White and Black, bond and free, made a rush for the “big house” as the houses occupied by white people. Who owned slaves were called Capt. Mc., and my father being the only white men present held a council of war: in the mean time the women and children were first into the house, with orders to stay there; Capt. Mc., called up the old Wagoner, and asks him how many Indians he saw, he told him seven. The fleet of horses in the stables was saddled, and runners sent to the springs for help. In a short while a man by the name of Davis rode up to Capt. Mc’s. And when he heard the news, he said yes and Dick is gone from home. And his wife and children are there, by themselves, and all the men in the community are at the Orange Pond at a log rolling. “We must see after Dick’s folks”, “Yes” Capt. Mc. “But we must exercise a great deal of caution, in our movements, for we do not know how many Indians are around us. I think we had better wait until we, get more help”. That sounds reasonable enough, Captain, said my father.” “But what will the helpless women and children do, with the men gone, and the Indians all around us?” The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when they heard a loud “halloo,” and looking down the road, they saw a horse man coming in a gallop and calling to them, like one frantic; when he came up to the small group he said,” Friends and Neighbors,” I believe my sister and her children are murdered by the Indians, the Indians are all around the house, and they have made a big fire in the house, and I believe they are cooking dinner, and I think I saw my sister lying in the yard dead. I did not get up close eneough to see very well, but I know the Indians are in the house, and gentleman, ‘I believe my sister is dead.” With that he burst into tears, and cried like his heart would break. “Nell” said Capt. Mc. “We must see to that; Wilson you go to Orange Pond, and tell your father and brothers about it.” My father saw that Mr. Wilson Carver did not want to go, and he said “Wilson I will go back with you, and help you look after your sister; let Davis here go, and alarm the neighbors.” “No,” said Davis, “let Wilson go on and I will go with you to see about dicks folks.” “No, boys,” said Capt. Mc. “Don’t go by yourselves; don’t go off now, to be shot down like dogs, wait until we can get more help.” “Go, Wilson, said my father,’ and get help, me and Davis will scout ‘round and see after Dick’s folks, too. “I am not so much afraid of being shot down like a dog, as I am some helpless family will be butchered, if we don’t look around. Come on Davis lets go.” They went back to the house, and loaded their guns, looking well to their priming, and seeing that their horns were filled with powder, and their pouches with shot, they mounted their horses and rode away, on their errand of mercy and danger. They rode briskly along, keeping an eye out for any trouble, they might have to encounter, till they came insight of the Tillis house. They saw there was still a large fire in the house, and concluded they would not venture up to close, when suddenly Mr. Davis said, “Andy, yonder is an Indian, do you think I can reach him from here with my musket?” “No, Davis save your shot and powder, that is not an Indian that is a wounded woman, let us go to her,” “Yes” was all Davis said; and sprung their horses, they galloped over to where the woman was; when got to her she, had her face covered up with a little child apron, and begged them not to kill her. When she found out they were not Indians, she uncovered her face and ask for water; this was Martha Kiett, help and companion to Mrs. Tillis. She said when Mr. Tillis left home this morning, they all went to work as usual, not dreaming of any danger, still they noticed the little dog kept barking around back of the house, where a lot of fine trees had been cut down; after a good little while. Mrs. Tillis heard a hen cackling, and went on out of the house, saying “I will go back and make that hen a nest.” She had been out but a few minutes when she cried out, “O; The Indians, the Indians; Mahala, took the baby and ran, terror lending wings to her feet, she heard a gun fired, but did not wait to see who was shot, she was knocked down, with a fine limb, as she ran, and stabbed under both arms and left for dead they did not hurt the little infant, but left it lying by Mahala’s side, where it cried itself almost to death, it could not make any noise at all, and was as bloody as Mahala was, she told them the Indians were all gone, and begged them not to leave her, they said they would not leave her; after wrapping their saddle blankets around Mahala and the baby to keep them warm, they started to the house, to make further invitations, they found Mrs. Tillis laying dead in the yard, with an egg in one hand and some straw in the other, she had been killed instantly, and two of the children were killed outright, and all the rest were wounded with arrows. The Indians had ransacked the whole place and had taken everything they could carry off, had emptied the feather beds so they could have the ticks to make frocks of, and the feathers were flying all over the house, and yard, the woods, they even cut off the dress skirts of the two women to pack their bounty? On; they had broken and torn up everything they couldn’t carry off. The two men gathered the children all together. And got Mahala and the baby with them and with their saddle blankets, and a few old garments, made them as comfortable as possible. The children were all crying for water, and they could not find anything for them to drink from, so Mr. Davis pulled off his new brogan shoes, and let the drink from them. Mr. Davis gave the children water, and my father stood by with his gun ready to shoot in case an Indian appeared. By this time Mrs. Tillis’s father and brothers had come, they put the dead woman and children in the house and barred it up. Mr. Sampson Carver was sent home after a conveyance to carry in wounded, and Mr. Davis was sent to Mr. White for a doctor, and he took the baby with him, and left it with his wife. Old Mr. Carver and Mr. Wilson Carver and my father, stayed with the wounded. Hunting around they found the old broken pictures, they filled with water and gave it to Mr. Carver to give to the children, and Mr. Wilson carver went about fifty yards on one side and my father about fifty yards on the other side and sat down to watch the course of events, until help could come, and take the wounded children in. They sit there till midnight, listing to the crys and moans of the children, and hooting of Owl’s and thinking all things together, it was a most dismal watch. After helping with the wounded, my father called for his horse, and started for his boarding place: Mr. Carver objected to his going, said “Andy you are just going off to be shot, the woods are full of Indians don’t go.” “My Father said.” “If they get me it will be on the wing.” Several armed men attended him to his horse, and when mounted, he struck off in a gallop, and never looked up till he dashed into Capt. Mc’s yard, just at good daylight; there he found a good many men assembled waiting for orders, to start in pursuit of the Indians. There was general rejoicing when my father got back, for they had given he and Mr. Davis up for dead; Judge Doyle said, “I got Andy and I am glad you are back, for I was afraid them danged injuns Had shot you, ‘and as he spoke tears rolled down his face. My father told all that he occurred, and Capt. Mc. Gave orders to march immediately. My father was detailed to make coffins for the Tillis family, for he was the only man, in the whole community that was a carpenter, he said he never worked under so muchexcitement in his life. He would work a while and run to the doors of the shop to see if there was any news. But the indians that murdered the Tillis family were never caught, Jim Tillis was the only one of the wounded children that lived. And the arrow that was taken out of his shoulder was given to my father, as a memento of that time that tried men’s souls. I have that arrow now, but-it-is broken into, it still has the iron head on it, but the feathers are gone, and the deer sinews they were wrapped on with. The little infant lived only a few months after its mother was killed. The frief of Mr. Tillis can better be imagined than written, let every man ask himself how he would feel under those circumstances, my father lived to a good old age, and died honored and respected by all who knew him. Written by: Mussie Nan
Posted on: Wed, 20 Nov 2013 18:05:24 +0000