Cold Open

It’s the afternoon of August 30th, 1813, at Fort Mims in southern Alabama.

US Major Daniel Beasley inspects a division of soldiers marching across the parade ground.

The fort is bustling, filled with troops and settlers alike. Its wooden walls have created a refuge amid ongoing tensions with the land’s indigenous Creek Nation. As white settlers infringe on their lands, some of the Creek Indians have chosen to assimilate, but the traditionalist Red Stick faction are adamantly opposed to American encroachment, creating a looming threat of violence.

To Major Beasley, an attack doesn’t feel imminent. But that is about to change.

Without warning, a horseman gallops onto the parade ground, scattering the orderly columns of uniformed men.

Major Beasley recognizes the rider as one of his army scouts. Scowling at the interruption, the Major orders the man to explain his untimely arrival. The scout announces that he spotted a hostile group of Red Stick warriors approaching the fort. He thinks they are going to attack.

All eyes turn to Major Beasley.

But as a familiar drumbeat signals lunchtime, Beasley chooses to disregard the scout’s concerns, and instead, Major Beasley calmly leads the soldiers toward the mess hall, unaware that just 400 yards away, hundreds of Red Stick warriors lie in wait, concealed in a deep ravine. The mid-day drum beat is a signal for them as well; a signal to strike.

As the American settlers and soldiers enjoy their meal… the Red Sticks charge into Fort Mims’ open gate.

Women and children rush inside the central blockhouse, fear in their eyes. Militiamen scramble, muskets in hand, to man the fort's walls.

Beasley orders his men to hold their positions. But the enemy forces are overwhelming. The Red Stick Creeks surge forward in relentless waves.

Hand-to-hand combat ensues. And the air fills with the clash of weapons. Beasley draws his sword and finds himself face to face with a Red Stick warrior. They grapple, but Beasley manages to drive his blade through the warrior, who falls to the ground with a thud.

But the Major’s triumph is cut short by a sharp pain in his side. He looks down to see an arrow protruding from his torso. He staggers back, feeling the world blur around him.

And as he falls, he witnesses the carnage unfolding – the fort overrun, settlers and militiamen being slaughtered, and the blockhouse in flames.

In his fading consciousness, he hears the victorious cries of the Red Stick warriors and the desperate screams of the fort's inhabitants. The tragedy of Fort Mims plays out all around him as darkness takes hold.

The Red Creeks will leave Fort Mims in blazing ruins, having killed over 250 of its dwellers. The Fort Mims Massacre, as this attack will come to be known, will mark the beginning of the Creek War, involving American forces in a conflict with the Creek Indians.

The war will not last long. In less than a year, the Red Sticks will be forced to accept defeat, setting in motion the forced relocation of the Creek Indians, which will prove deadly for hundreds ordered to leave the south by steamboat on October 31st, 1837.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is October 31st, 1837: The Monmouth Steamboat Disaster.

Act One

It’s around noon on March 27th, 1814, in central Alabama; less than a year after the Fort Mims massacre.

An army of US forces and their Indian allies advance toward their next target: one of the Red Sticks’ villages, nestled inside a peninsula bordered by the Tallapoosa River. Leading the forces is US General Andrew Jackson.

After the attack on Fort Mims, Tennessee’s governor ordered Jackson to mobilize a force to suppress the Red Sticks. Other states have also planned offensives, but the main effort has been led by Jackson.

After seven months of fighting, today, Jackson hopes to force the Red Sticks into submission with a final, crushing defeat. But as his men get closer to the village, Jackson’s visions of a swift and ferocious attack evaporate. In preparation for an assault, the Red Sticks have erected an impressive log and mud breastwork at the neck of the peninsula. These heavy fortifications make a head-on assault impossible.

So, Jackson changes tack. He orders his second-in-command General John Coffee to lead 1,300 men encircling the Red Sticks from the Tallapoosa River. As they use stolen canoes to surround the village, Jackson commands the remaining 2,000 troops to attack the barricade.

From atop a hill, Jackson monitors the action. As his troops approach the 8-foot-high wall of logs and packed earth, they begin to fire their cannons and muskets. The ground quivers with every resounding boom. But through it all, General Jackson is unmoved, his stony gaze fixed on the imposing enemy fortifications, which remain remarkably intact.

Even after two hours of artillery barrage, the breastwork is still standing. Jackson contemplates his next move. Deeply preoccupied, he continues to study the wall, wishing he could see the enemy formation behind it. At this point, if he orders his troops to charge the barricade, he’s certain they would overwhelm it. But this would come at a heavy cost. The Red Sticks would no doubt be ready and waiting, likely resulting in the loss of many of his soldiers’ lives.

As Jackson ponders this predicament, the din of battle floats toward him. Jackson focuses his gaze farther in the distance, where a billow of smoke is rising above the village’s treetops. He hears a faint volley of distant gunshots punctuating the nearby boom of the exploding artillery and suddenly he understands. General Coffee and his men have managed to successfully launch an attack on the Red Sticks from the rear.

This is the diversion Jackson needs. While General Coffee’s troops storm the village and set it ablaze, Jackson orders his contingency to charge forward.

At 12:30 PM, the sound of muskets is replaced by the beating of war drums. The battlefield vibrates as General Jackson’s most elite unit charges toward the Red Sticks barricade. Brandishing bayonets, the troops breach the fortification with ease and lock themselves into combat.

Assaulted from both sides, the Red Sticks quickly find themselves vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Most of them are fighting with their bare hands. Only a third of them have firearms of any kind. And General Jackson’s forces press on. Even though they’ve already won the battle, they don’t spare anyone — not even women or children.

With the setting sun, the indiscriminate bloodshed finally draws to a close. Lying among the fallen victims is Chief Menawa, a key Red Stick leader. The Chief is injured, but alive. He looks around him, taking in the number of casualties. And with each bloody body he sees, his resolve strengthens. The hurt of today’s losses may be heavy, but he knows that his people need him now more than ever. Difficult days are ahead, and someone will need to lead the Red Creeks through them.

With gritted teeth, Chief Menawa ignores his pain and crawls into an abandoned canoe on the river, slowly drifting away to safer land, where he can figure out his tribe’s fate.

The Battle of Horseshoe Bend, as this conflict will come to be known, will conclude the Creek War, effectively ending Creek resistance to American advances. A few weeks later, General Jackson will summon the chiefs of several Creek Indian tribes to meet and broker a settlement. When the leaders, including Chief Menawa, arrive, General Jackson will prove a tough negotiator. He will force the Indian chiefs to agree to harsh terms, citing what he calls their “unprovoked war” against the American government as justification. The resulting Treaty of Fort Jackson will dictate that the Creek Indians cede 23 million acres of land to the United States. And as the tribes mourn this tremendous loss of ancestral territory, an even greater tragedy will loom on the horizon.

Act Two

It’s May 28th, 1830, in the White House; nearly 15 years after the Treaty of Fort Jackson was signed.

Andrew Jackson, now President of the United States, sits behind an ornate desk, examining a thick stack of papers. The graying leader has aged significantly from his days on the battlefield. Yet, his influence has only grown. As the nation’s leader, Jackson wields unparalleled sway over the destinies of America’s indigenous tribes, and he’s already taking advantage of this newfound power.

Shortly after his election to the presidency last year, Jackson began lobbying the US Congress to pass the Indian Removal Act. This bill would force Native American tribes to relocate from their ancestral lands in the southeastern United States to less desirable lands west of the Mississippi River. After heated debate, the legislation was recently approved in both houses of Congress by a narrow majority. Now, the bill is back on Jackson’s desk, awaiting his signature.

So without hesitation, Jackson picks up his quill and signs the Act into law.

This legislation is yet another blow to the diminishing property rights of indigenous American tribes, like the Creek Indians. Since the Treaty of Fort Jackson was enacted, several other treaties have eroded the Creek Indians’ land holdings, pushing them farther and farther from their homelands. Their displacement has been hastened by the increasing number of white settlers in the American South. Interested in the fertile land along the Mississippi’s east bank, these settlers have compelled the government into assertive land acquisition efforts,

But the Indian Removal Act is the most drastic measure yet. The bill marks a significant departure from the United States’ official policy of recognizing the legal and political rights of American Indians. In many ways, it’s the last nail in the coffin of the troubled Creek. On paper, the law doesn't sanction forceful relocations. But this is the fate that awaits tens of thousands of Native Americans.

Many southern tribes, like the Creek Indians, have developed communities with homes, schools, businesses, and governance on their lands. They resist the idea of surrendering their established lives to start anew in some unfamiliar Western territory. Yet, under President Jackson's resolute direction, the government offers minimal alternatives. Instead, it resorts to intimidation, forcing tribes from land they've inhabited for generations, and pushing them into perilous journeys toward uncertain futures.

The Upper Creeks are among the last tribe to give up their homes. But in 1832, they’re forced to leave Alabama and head west. Over the next five years, nearly 15,000 of them make the expedition, many of them walking the entire way.

Then, in the fall of 1837, the US Army organizes a more efficient means of transportation. They arrange for three steamboats to transport the next batch of Creeks to modern-day Oklahoma.

When the ships arrive at Mobile Point, Alabama, thousands of Creek Indians are waiting. The atmosphere is grim, but made even more so by the onset of stormy weather.

The crowd of Creeks grows concerned as they’re instructed to board the steamboats. They explain to the officials that it’s already late and the weather has clearly taken a turn. They don’t want to start the journey on a dark, rainy night; it doesn’t seem safe. But once again, the Creek Indians are not given a choice. The American officials insist that the steamboats must leave immediately.

So, with a cold rain falling, the Creeks are herded onto the waiting ships. Nearly seven hundred are assigned to a steamboat called the Monmouth. Without regard to comfort or safety, they’re forced to occupy the lower deck of the boat, a space far too small for so many people. But their cramped quarters will soon become the least of the Creeks’ concerns.

As the Monmouth leaves shore and heads up the Mississippi, dangerous waves of water lap at its sides. Several passengers also notice that the steamboat is being steered erratically. They become concerned that the officers in charge may have broken into the ship’s whiskey supplies, making an already dangerous journey even more treacherous.

Concerned about the weather, and suspecting that the ship’s crew is intoxicated, the Creek will beg officials to anchor the vessel until the next morning. But their pleas will fall on deaf ears, tragically sealing the fate of the hundreds, who will soon become the victims of a deadly maritime disaster.

Act Three

It’s the foggy night of October 31st, 1837, on the Mississippi River, a few hours after the steamboats left Alabama.

Aboard the Monmouth, Dave Barnett peers out of a window. As rain splatters against the glass, he squints his eyes, trying to look through the thick mist and drizzle surrounding the boat. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t see anything. The sky and water have blurred into a single black sheet. He’s just about to turn away when a light appears on the horizon.

Immediately, Dave recognizes it as another ship, and he panics. It looks like the Monmouth is too far into the middle of the river, putting it on a collision course with this oncoming ship. Dave’s not the only one who takes notice of the impending disaster. Many on board start trying to get the attention of the officers, imploring them to steer the ship toward the bank.

But as they communicate their concerns, the ship begins to zig-zag. Screams ring out as the steamboat crashes into the approaching ship, fracturing the Monmouth’s hull. As water gushes into the boat, those on the lower deck rush upstairs. But there’s not enough space for all 700 passengers. As the boat plunges further into the river, some try to swim to shore. Others are eventually rescued by other boats. But over 300 of the Creek Indians drown.

This accident will remain the worst transportation disaster on the Mississippi River until the American Civil War. While official accounts will maintain that the collision was caused by poor visibility conditions, few reporters will question whether the overcrowded conditions contributed to the rapid sinking and mass casualties.

The next day, the surviving passengers will walk along the river bank, trying to identify the dead that were washed ashore. Those found will be gathered and buried, but many killed will be lost forever in the waters of the Mississippi.

The Monmouth disaster will form just one calamitous part of the “Trail of Tears,” the name given to the forcible relocation of around 60,000 Native Americans between 1830 and 1850. For many, the journey westward from the American South will be filled with peril. Thousands will die from disease and starvation. And over the coming decades, the territory promised to these Native Americans will continue to shrink, encroached upon by white settlers, one Acre at a time.

But in 2020, a Supreme Court judgment in the case of McGirt v. Oklahoma will go some way to strengthening Native American territorial claims. The ruling will find that a large portion of eastern Oklahoma remains Creek territory under U.S. law, taking away criminal jurisdiction from the State of Oklahoma and returning it to native land.

This landmark decision will be seen as a significant affirmation of Native American sovereignty, hailed for recognizing the Creek Indians’ rights to what land they do have left. But for many, this belated consolation will hardly compensate for the immense tragedy that followed the Creek Nation’s forced relocation, which was riddled with hardship and disasters like the sinking of the Monmouth on October 31st, 1837.

Outro

Next on History Daily. November 1st, 1755. A massive earthquake hit Lisbon, Spain, reducing half the city to rubble and killing over 50,000 people.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mischa Stanton.

Music by Lindsay Graham.

This episode is written and researched by Rhea Purohit.

Executive Producers are Alexandra Currie-Buckner for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.