The Carter Journals Page 8

  July 21, 1776 Our worst fears were realized this morning—and we were somehow caught off guard. Several women were outside the fort walls doing their morning milking when a scream was heard.…

  As he read these words, Cody felt himself immediately being transported back to Fort Watauga. His arrival found him sprinting full speed across the fort’s courtyard in a near panic. He heard a woman’s piercing scream coming from outside the fort walls. He bounded up a ladder that led to a platform walkway below the top of the palisade wall. As he looked out over the pointed ends of the logs, he saw several women clutching their long dresses and running as fast as they could go toward the fort’s gates. He looked down to the gates and saw several of the men gathering there. When he glanced back over the wall, he saw why the women were running. About a dozen Cherokee warriors were sprinting toward them from the nearby woods.

  The warriors were a terrifying sight to behold. They were nearly naked, except for loincloths and breastplates that appeared to be made of bones. Their faces and arms were covered in red and black paint. Some were carrying rifles, while others appeared only to be wielding tomahawks or bows and arrows. The most frightening aspect of the approaching warriors was the earsplitting noises they were emitting. Their war whoops sounded like the yipping of a frenzied pack of coyotes hot on the heels of a fawn. The sound made Cody feel sick to his stomach. He knew at once he would never forget it.

  Suddenly, the sick feeling in Cody’s gut intensified as he realized what the men at the gates were preparing to do—they were about to shut them! All the settlers inside the fort were yelling at the women caught outside to run faster. The gates had to be closed to protect all those inside. The women had to make it in before the gates were shut, and from the looks of things, it was going to be close. Cody watched with relief as the first four women made it through the gate, but his relief quickly turned to horror as he realized that one of the women was clearly not going to make it into the safety of the fort.

  “One of them’s still out there!” Cody shouted. “She’s going to be locked out!”

  By this time, the guards had opened fire on the approaching warriors and forced them to drop down. They, in turn, begin firing back toward the fort. They were still just out of accurate rifle range, but at least it provided the woman with some cover and bought her some time.

  Then John Sevier came running up a ladder about fifty feet to Cody’s left. Sevier looked out over the wall and shouted to the stranded woman, “This way, Bonnie Kate! Come grab my hand!”

  Sevier positioned himself between two of the sharpened points atop the palisade and leaned down as far as he could so that his hand hung down toward the ground. Cody watched as the terrified woman stumbled over and reached up for Sevier’s hand. He was able to get a good purchase on her.

  “Hold on tight, Bonnie Kate,” said Sevier. “I’m going to pull you up. Use your feet against the wall for leverage.”

  Bonnie Kate did as she was told and sort of walked her way up the wall with her feet as Sevier pulled her up by the arms. When she got near the top, Sevier was able to get a better grip, and he gave one more mighty heave to pull her to safety. Once inside, she collapsed in Sevier’s arms and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. The crowd that had gathered below Sevier gave a mighty huzzah! When she had calmed down, Bonnie Kate rejoined the other women who had been ambushed. Sevier returned to stand guard with some of the militia.

  John Sevier helping his future wife, Bonnie Kate Sherrill, over the fort wall during the siege of Fort Watauga, July 20, 1776. (Tennessee State Library and Archives)

  The Cherokee raid then turned into a siege. The fort was a fairly safe refuge for those inside, as long as they stayed inside. The Cherokee had it surrounded but seemed content for the next few hours to sit tight and watch from a safe distance. Occasional volleys of gunfire were exchanged, but no bullets seemed to find a mark. John Carter and Sevier called a meeting in the main cabin with some of the leading men to hatch out a plan for what to do next. Cody was there with them.

  John spoke up first. “Well, gentlemen, we can certainly count ourselves fortunate that we didn’t lose any souls in that attack—but it was a little too close for comfort. Thanks to Mr. Sevier’s quick action, we were able to get all of our women safely back inside the fort. We have a lot of livestock out there, though. I am sure the Indians will kill or steal whatever they can of our cattle.”

  Sevier added, “We have enough provisions to last us for a while, but if the Indians maintain this siege over a prolonged period, we might have to plan to send some people out under armed guard to bring in water or food.”

  The assembled men continued to make contingency plans for all possible scenarios. It was mentioned at one point that large kettles of water should be kept boiling in the courtyard. Cody assumed that was for potential medical emergencies, but he didn’t know for sure.

  A contemporary photograph of the reconstruction of Fort Watauga, located in Tennessee’s Sycamore Shoals State Historic Park. (Courtesy of Mark W. Peacock)

  The next morning, Cody was taking a turn in a watchtower. He was looking out over the open field in the general direction from which the warriors had come screaming out of the woods. He felt goosebumps rise up on his arms and neck as he recalled the horrifying coyote-like war yips that had come out of the painted warriors the day before. Suddenly, Cody thought he caught a glimpse of movement coming from his right. He spun around and noticed four warriors with torches attempting to sneak up to the wall of the fort just around a corner from his position. They obviously had been studying the layout of the fort well because they had chosen to approach the part of the wall that was most vulnerable to attack. It was the place that was most difficult to cover with gunfire. They were closing in. Cody realized that they intended to try to set fire to the fort.

  “Indians approaching from the north!” Cody called out. “I can’t shoot at them from here.”

  Then Cody began to understand the purpose of the boiling water. He watched as several men raced out to the kettle and formed a bucket brigade. The men formed a line that led from the kettle to a ladder on the wall that was under attack. They began passing buckets of the scalding hot liquid quickly down the line and up the ladder. When several buckets had been gathered at the top, the men crouched there and waited patiently until the attackers had gotten just to the base of the wall. Then, in one motion, the group stood and poured the contents of their buckets down upon the unsuspecting band of warriors. The boiling water rained down upon them, and they howled in terrible pain, dropped their torches, and ran back in the direction from which they had come. The bucket bearers erupted in victorious laughter and celebration, slapping each other on the back with delight. Cody smiled at the cleverness of this devilish little defensive strategy.

  Later that day, after an afternoon free of any sightings, some in the fort were convinced the siege was over. It was decided that the gates would be opened slightly and that any men who wished to risk a venture outside could do so at their own peril. Some of the men wanted to go and check on the status of their livestock. One of them was a young man named Tom Moore. He went out to track down a missing cow and ventured out near the wood line. One of the guards heard him scream out, but it was too late. Moore was captured by the natives. As the other settlers retreated behind the safety of the fort’s closed gates, Cody felt himself being transported back to his bedroom.

  Part Four

  The Journal of Annabelle Carter

  State of Franklin, 1788

  Chapter 9

  Cody awoke late. He had put in a pretty long night. After experiencing the siege on Fort Watauga, he had gone back one more time to finish up the last of Landon Carter’s journal. He learned that the siege of the fort had ended later that same summer, when Virginia sent militia to reinforce the fortifications. He then had heard John Sevier tell the story of the Battle of Kings Mountain, which had taken place in the fall of 1780. Landon Carter was a grown man of tw
enty by that time, but still had taken the time to enter the story in his journal. Sevier and a man named Isaac Shelby had recruited hundreds of volunteer soldiers at Sycamore Shoals in response to a report that the British were intent on sending troops over the Blue Ridge to flush out any settlements west of the mountains. A British major named Patrick Ferguson was storming through the Carolinas with the intention of carrying out that plan. Sevier had other plans, however. He and Shelby mustered their makeshift army and went on the offensive.

  They left from Sycamore Shoals on September 25 and marched to the southwest over the mountains to engage Ferguson’s army. By October 7, Sevier’s men had reached the British and surprised them as they camped on a small hill in South Carolina that had been named Kings Mountain by the British. Using Indian tactics and guerilla warfare, Sevier’s “Overmountain Men,” as they came to be called, dominated Ferguson’s army. Ferguson and more than 150 of his troops were killed.

  This diagram of the Battle of Kings Mountain depicts the Overmountain Men surrounding British Major Patrick Ferguson’s encampment on Kings Mountain. (Lyman C. Draper, King’s Mountain and Its Heroes: History of the Battle of King’s Mountain.... [Cincinnati: Peter G. Thomson, 1881].)

  Cody had then turned to the Internet to learn more about the battle. It turned out to have been very costly to the British plan of overtaking the Carolinas. Other key American victories in the area, including the Battle of Cowpens one day earlier and just a short distance away, led British General Lord Charles Cornwallis to abandon his plans in the Carolinas. Sevier had become a well-known hero as a result of these efforts.

  With the completion of Landon’s journal, Cody decided to take a break, so he spent that Saturday with some of his friends playing football at the park. He had wanted to tell them about what he was experiencing with the journals, but he decided they would probably not believe him and just laugh at him. It felt lonely to have all these experiences and not be able to tell anyone. Cody had thought about sharing his stories with his dad again, but given the negative experience his father had with the journals, that option was questionable. Cody decided he would just ride this out alone for now. Maybe he would talk to his grandpa about it later.

  After supper, Cody went to his room and selected the next journal in the time line. He opened the cover and began to read.…

  March 1788 My name is Annabelle Carter. Most folks call me Anne or Annie. I am sixteen years old. I live in Greeneville, capital of the State of Franklin, with my parents, Nancy and David Carter. Times have been hard here for the last several years…from the very beginning really. My uncle is Landon Carter. He is the Speaker of the Senate for the State of Franklin. He knows Governor John Sevier well. I am privy to a lot of information about the status of our young, struggling government. I fear we won’t be able to hold out much longer.…

  What in the world is the State of Franklin? Cody thought. And Annabelle? Was he really going to have to be a girl this time? So far he hadn’t felt anything strange happening, and he found that to be a great relief. He decided to read on.…

  Of late, our settlements have been under nearly constant harassment by Indians. The Cherokee, Chickamauga, and Chickasaw have been attacking farms throughout the area.…

  As he read these words, Cody felt his head swimming and the roller-coaster butterflies returning. Like it or not, he was being transported into the journal. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting at a writing table. As he glanced down at himself, he noticed he was wearing a dress. You have got to be kidding me, Cody thought.

  Before he had a chance to examine his situation any further, Cody sensed someone walking into the room. “Back at your journal, I see,” said the woman who entered the room. “Working on your history of the state of Franklin?”

  “Y-yes,” Cody responded uncertainly.

  “Well, Annie dear, you might be just the perfect person to record such a history,” answered the woman. Cody realized she must be Annabelle’s mother, Nancy Carter. “You are a keen observer, and you also have your Uncle Landon who knows as much about the workings of this government as anyone. He has been involved in it since the beginning—before the beginning actually. He will be coming for supper tonight. I am sure he will be delighted to hear that you are planning to do this.”

  Cody wondered if this Uncle Landon was the same Landon whose journal he had just finished. He wasn’t sure because he had no idea where he was, having never heard of the state of Franklin. Cody noticed right away that these people seemed to be better educated than some of the others in journals he had visited. He also noticed that this house was no cabin. It had wood-frame construction, and the room he was in contained fine furniture, a hardwood floor, a stone hearth fireplace, and all the other adornments that accompany the homes of the well-to-do. It reminded Cody of historic homes of famous people he had visited on family vacations.

  The John and Landon Carter mansion in Elizabethton, Tennessee, ca. 1950. Built around 1780, the mansion is the only remaining artifact of the Watauga Association, which predated the state of Franklin. Many Watauga Association members and their families became citizens of the state of Franklin. (Tennessee State Library and Archives)

  “Come now and help me prepare tonight’s supper,” said Nancy.

  Cody followed the woman toward the kitchen. Along the way, they passed a large oval mirror on a wooden stand. Cody stole a quick glance at his reflection. He saw a very lovely teenage girl with curly blonde locks flowing out from under a blue cap. The dress she was wearing was the same pale blue as the cap and had long sleeves with white lace around the cuffs and the neckline. The hemline reached almost to the floor.

  When they reached the kitchen, Cody was surprised to see a middle-aged, rather plump black woman standing at the stove. “Chicken’s ’bout done, Miss Nancy,” said the woman.

  “Thanks, Bessie dear,” replied Nancy. “Annie and I will prepare a salad, and you can set the table. Oh, and set an extra place for Master David’s brother Landon. He’ll be joining us this evening.”

  “Yes’m,” replied Bessie.

  A man arrived at the house a few minutes later and made small talk with Nancy about his day at his law office. In town, he had heard several settlers from surrounding farms complaining that it was becoming impossible for them to live there due to the constant threat from Indian attacks. “It’s getting worse, Nancy,” said the man. “I am afraid we’re going to have to get on bended knee soon and beg North Carolina to take us back. We just don’t have the resources to go it alone.”

  Cody assumed the man was Annabelle’s father, David. He listened to the conversation with interest. He still was unsure what was going on here, but he had a few more pieces of the puzzle. He knew he was in a place called the state of Franklin. Though he had never heard of this place, from what David had just said, it must have been a part of North Carolina that had somehow become independent. Cody had never even heard of such a thing. It certainly wasn’t in his history book.

  After the food was prepared and the table set, he was told to go prepare for supper. As he entered Annabelle’s bedroom, Cody looked around and found it to be very nice. He noticed that there was a much more normal-looking bed than the ones he had experienced in the previous journals. There was a vanity table with a small padded bench in front of it and a tilting, rectangular mirror mounted at the back of the table. Cody once again found himself staring into the reflection of a lovely teenage girl; he would never even be able to work up the nerve to speak to her back home. Cody picked up a hairbrush from the table and brushed his long hair. A powder puff and small porcelain vial with a cork stopper also lay on the table, but because Cody wasn’t sure what Annie would have done with them, he decided it was safer to just make sure his face was clean and the rest of him was at least presentable.

  Cody heard some muffled voices outside the bedroom door. It sounded like Uncle Landon must have arrived. He left the room and saw a man standing near the entryway, hat and walking stick in hand. H
e had just finished greeting David and Nancy, and now he turned his attentions toward Cody. “Annie, come here and give us a hug,” said Landon. Cody knew it would seem strange if Annie refused, so he did as Landon requested.

  Landon Carter was an impressive-looking man. He was dressed in a formal suit and looked like someone important, just like the pictures of old-time presidents or senators that Cody had seen in textbooks. “Your parents tell me you would like to write the history of Franklin,” said Landon. “I think that is great news. If you need any information from me, I will be most happy to help you.

  “Thanks,” answered Cody. “I will probably need to take full advantage of that.”

  “First, I’d like to sit down to some of that delicious chicken I am smelling,” smiled Landon.

  As the family sat down around the table and Bessie began serving up the meal, Cody’s head was whirling. This was a part of American history that he had no prior knowledge of. Had there really been a whole state that was left out of the history books? Why had he never heard of this? Dresses or no dresses, girl or no girl, Cody just had to find out more about this state of Franklin.