reastworks, and having
but in part demolished them, ordered forward the thirty-ninth regiment
to carry the place by storm. The van was gallantly led by Col.
Williams, Col. Bunch, Lieut.-Col. Benton, and Maj. Montgomery. Amidst
a most destructive fire, they pressed to the breastworks, and
desperately struggled for the command of the port-holes. But Maj.
Montgomery, impatient at the delay, cried out to his men to follow
him, and leaped upon the wall in face of the deadliest fire. For an
instant he waved his sword over his head in triumph, but the next fell
lifeless to the ground, shot through the head by a rifle ball. A more
gallant spirit never achieved a nobler death, and the name of the
young Tennesseean is preserved as a proud designation by one of the
richest counties, as well as by one of the most flourishing cities, in
the State whose soil was baptized by his blood!

The breastworks having been carried by storm, the Indians fell back
among the trees, brush, and timber of the peninsula, and kept up a
spirited contest. But, in the meantime, a portion of Coffee's command,
and some of the friendly warriors under their distinguished chief,
McIntosh, had swum across the river, fired the village of Tohopeka,
and carried off the canoes of the enemy. The followers of Weatherford
now became desperate, and from the banks, hollows, and other
fastnesses of the place, fought with fury, refusing all offers of
quarter. The fight continued in severity for five hours; and the going
down of the sun was hailed by the survivors as furnishing them some
chance of escape. But the hope was, in the main, deceptive. . . .

. . . Not more than twenty warriors are believed to have escaped,
under cover of the night. Among these, strange enough, was the
chieftain [Weatherford], whose appellation, "the Murderer of Fort
Mims," had formed the watch-word and war-cry of his enemies in this
very engagement. Favored by the thick darkness, he floated down the
river with his horse, until below the American lines, and then
reaching the shore, made his way in safety to the highlands south of
the Tallapoosa. . .

Weatherford could not consent to fly from the nation; he felt that he
owed it, as a duty to his people, not to abandon them until peace was
restored. In this state of mind he was apprised that the American
commander had set a price upon his head, and refused peace to the
other chiefs, unless they should bring him either dead, or in
confinement,