A tale of five men out cow hunting

There were five men in the party; they were cow hunting. They had left the comfort of their homes in the area along the coast known as the Walton Valley and traveled northwest in the yearly search for their free-range cattle. After several days of search, reports were received of Indian raids nearby, around the upper Shoal River. Two Hart family farms had been attacked by a large band of braves coming down from the Alabama region. One brother’s large extended family had been surprised during the evening livestock feeding and massacred, while the other, hearing gun shots, had fortified his home and during an attack the next morning, drove the attackers away. Upon hearing the news, the group of cow hunters decided to return home for protection of their own properties. It was the fall of 1835.

After a day of steady riding, the party came upon a bear with cubs and took one of the cubs. Deciding that they were well ahead of the marauders, the exhausted band settled down for the night and made a small barbeque fire.

The next morning was bleak, chilly and damp. Sill Caswell was the first up as usual. He set the fire so everyone could see well and be mounted before daylight. He fed the horses and then walked his mare down to nearby Gum Creek to let her graze on green grass. Tom Broxton was also soon at the creek to get water as the camp began to stir. Suddenly, Sill saw a flash of light down the creek, followed by the failed snap of damp powder in a flintlock gun. Sill yelled “Snap, snap! Gun snap!” as he reached to grab Tom. Almost immediately, flashes, snaps and firing were all around the camp while the two unarmed men at the creek stood frozen. From the camp return fire could then be heard, including the sound of Big John Anderson’s heavy scatter gun. As the firing subsided, new sounds of rushing feet and hand-to-hand fighting filled the thick morning air. Realizing their situation, the two men at the creek dove into the water seeking refuge under the thick ti-ti along the banks. Within minutes only the jargon of native language could be faintly heard as small bands of braves traveled up and down the creek looking for escapees. The natives’ sounds then returned to the camp as the invaders rifled the supplies and ate sumptuously on the night’s cub supper. Then the songs of the braves lamenting for their fallen comrades were heard; then at last, fading sounds of footsteps.

After what seemed hours huddled in the cold water, in the silence, Sill and Tom reasoned that the marauders had left for other mischief. They slowly moved down the creek to a place where thick woods would cover them and then ascended a long hill above the camp until they were certain that the threat was over. The two men then made their way as quickly as they could to the southeast until they found the main road. Soon afterward, they met ten mounted men heading north to assist the settlers. The exhausted Sill and Tom told their story to the group. All the men then returned south for additional help. A company of thirty-five men was quickly raised from the neighboring farms, captained by Arch Justice.

The Justice Company soon arrived at the tragic campsite. Big John Anderson, William Nelson and John Porter were all there, all seen to have died in hand-to-hand battle. Four braves were also lost there. Two lay next to the defenders, one obviously bludgeoned by Big John; his club still in his hand. Two lay in the woods, shot at range. All the antagonists were buried nearby.

The company followed the tracks of the invaders, intending to stop them before they escaped into the wilderness. Near the Shoal River, the culprits were soon found camped along a small feeder creek. The camp was quietly surrounded and a battle ensued. Sill Caswell recalled that “We killed, or wounded, and captured all these braves and some women and children they had along with them.” None of the company was lost. The natives were all later taken to Pensacola, the news of the tragedies was received there with much angst.

These events in large part provoked the beginning of Florida’s first Seminole War. Today, there is little evidence of the people and places of these early days in our history. But, if you look closely at a map of the Shoal River, the location of one of West Florida’s early Indian war battles is marked by the name of a small tributary where it happened, Battle Creek.

The Alger-Sullivan Historical Society strives to preserve some of the more recent history of our region, as a service to the citizens of our region. Our museums are open on Saturdays, or call for a tour at your convenience. Bring the family, its free.

 
 
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