* Author’s Note: In March 1818, two massacres occurred in
Butler County, Alabama. The first one was a night-time attack on the Ogly and
Stroud families by Savannah Jack, a notorious Indian who was terrorizing
settlers in the area. This story is my imagining of that horrible night and the
atrocities that were committed then.*
“The Ogly Massacre”
Scream, whoops of
Indians, dog barking.
It’s not easy being a pioneer
woman. You have to contend with disease, having lots of children with a high
risk of dying trying to get them here, bad crops, and worst of all, Indian
raids. My name is Mary Ray Ogly, and I’d like to share with you my story.
March 13,
1818, was a cold, blustery day. My husband William had gone off to a muster of
volunteer soldiers at nearby Fort Dale, but I had spent the day clearing the
land around our cabin, just a little ways off Federal Road in Poplar Springs.
At the time, much of the region was still a wilderness, but William and I were
determined to have our homestead and raise our growing family. We already had
six children, but we hoped for more.
About
midday, my old dog Rufus begin to kick up a fuss. He wouldn’t stop barking. My
children all ran to the house, and I grabbed an axe, the only weapon I had. We all
knew that several of the Indians in the area were still angry after losing
their land following the Treaty of Fort Jackson, when the great Andrew Jackson
made William Weatherford, now known as Red Eagle, and the other Creeks sign
over their land to the government following the Creek Indian War of 1814. The
Indians’ land had been given to settlers like us, looking to making a go of it
out here in the frontier. We hadn’t really seen any Indians around the cabin,
but we were always at the ready in case the treacherous Savannah Jack and his
band might be lurking nearby. Now that Savannah Jack, he was one mean Indian.
Rumor had it that he had lost all his land around the Line Creek area in
Montgomery during the session. He swore then that he’d take his revenge on the settlers,
and although he’d been stirring up unrest, so far, nothing bad had happened.
Still, we stayed
ready just in case. But, Rufus wasn’t barking at Indians. No, it was my husband
William leading Mr. Eli Stroud, his wife Elizabeth, and their little baby to
our cabin. Lots of folks traveling the Federal Road to get to Claiborne would
stop by our place during their journey. Because I don’t get much female
company, I was real happy to see Mrs. Stroud. She was a pretty lady, and her
baby was a happy one. William and I offered our visitors our hospitality, and
we all began to sit about the cabin, sharing news and swapping stories of the
goings on in our area. My daughters Mary Ann and Elizabeth took a special
liking to the Stroud baby, so they played with it while we women folk chatted
and got some food started on the fire.
Darkness still
comes early in March, and we knew the Strouds wouldn’t make it to Holley’s
Store several miles from the house much less to Fort Bibb, the closest fort
going southwest towards Claiborne, before nightfall, so we offered to put them
up for the night. As evening began to close in on us, Eli Stroud told us that
he’d seen and heard some unusual things on their way from Fort Dale to our
cabin. He was pretty sure that there were Indians in the area, so we took extra
precautions to secure the horses and livestock and to barricade the door before
we settled in for the evening. We made up a little pallet in front of the
fireplace for the Strouds, and the rest of us climbed into our sleeping spots
in the little one-room cabin. We all hoped for a good night’s sleep to get us
ready for the hard day of work and travel ahead.
I heard the
first “Whoop!” around midnight. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end,
and the children started to whimper. William jumped from the bed and grabbed
his gun, while Mr. Stroud tried to calm his wife. After the first noise, we
didn’t hear anything for a long while. I had begun to think that maybe it’d
been an ol’ hoot owl we’d heard, but then there came such a commotion from the
woods surrounding all sides of the cabin that I knew we were in an Indian raid.
Rufus
started to bark as the gunshots pierced the air. We could hear the pings on the
side of the cabin where the bullets hit the bark. As long as we stayed in the cabin,
the bullets wouldn’t reach us, but we all knew that the Indians would set fire
to the cabin to drive us out. That’s when William devised a plan. He’d throw
open the door, and the rest of us would run for the cane break at the back of
the cabin. With any luck, perhaps we could still come out of this alive. I’d
lead the group out since Mr. Stroud didn’t know the area. But he’d be right
behind me with the axe followed by the children with Mrs. Stroud and William
left to pull up the rear.
When
William threw open the door, he stepped back behind it, and let the bullets fly
in. He knew that first volley would come quick, but it’d take those murderous
renegade Indians a few minutes to reload. As soon as he yelled, “Go!” I was out
the door, with Rufus right on my heels. Mr. Stroud was close behind; I ran as
hard and fast as I could. Just as I reached the cane, I saw a dark figure
slowly emerge from the path in front of me; the figure raised its hand in the
darkness, and a sliver of moonlight glinted off a razor-sharp blade. I
screamed, but before the man could bring it down right-square in the middle of
my forehead, Rufus lunged at him. I could hear a ripping sound, then the man
clutched his throat, as blood gurgled out of his mouth. His work done, Rufus
came charging back towards me, and as I started to run behind him, I could hear
another volley of gunshots, and the screams of my girls. I started to turn back,
but Mr. Stroud grabbed me by the wrist, and yelled into my face, “Run! There’s
nothing we can do. They’ll kill us all.”
I did as he
said. As I ran, I screamed, too, but my screams couldn’t drown out the ones
coming from the cabin. Even against all the other gunshots, I could recognize
the sound of William’s gun firing. He was still alive! Then, it fell silent, and
I knew, they’d got him. Finally, all the guns fell silent, and the only sound
that came was of hacking and tearing, of furniture being overturned in the
cabin. The children’s voices carried out to my ears, yelling, “Mama! Mama!” but
one by one, each voice fell silent, until only the pitiable moans of the dying
remained. The Indians whooped and yelled in the dark. I couldn’t understand
what they were saying, but I knew they’d seen me and Stroud get out of the
cabin. They wouldn’t leave anyone behind to tell the tale.
I hadn’t
made it far into the cane, but I dropped to my knees and crouched down in as
small a ball as I could make myself. The slightest rustle of movement would
alert them to my presence. Terrified, I held on to Rufus, who had still not
left my side. I put my hand over his snout, but he seemed to sense our danger
and didn’t move. The Indians began to move around in the cane on all sides of
me. Any minute and they’d step right on top of me and Rufus. I didn’t know
where Stroud had gotten off to at that point, but I couldn’t worry about him
just then. Slowly, one by one, the men moved next to, then past my hiding
place. As I huddled there in the darkness watching them, one more man
approached. He stopped only inches from my feet. And when I glimpsed him, a
trill of terror ran down my spine. I’d never seen him before, but I’d heard of
the long scar that ran from his temple down to his chin. An ugly gash that
still remained red years after the Battle at Horseshoe Bend. The moonlight
caught that hideous mark, and I knew I’d come face to face with the villainous
Savanah Jack.
I felt the
scream rise up in my throat, but I crammed my knuckles into my mouth and bit
down as hard as I could to stifle it. I could feel the blood trickle between my
fingers. Jack held up a hand to halt his warriors, then he crouched down into
an attack position. Knowing he’d somehow heard me, I prepared to bolt. But just
as that moment, another sound, further up from where I was, arrested Jack’s
attention. He and his men plunged on into the darkness. I lay there and prayed
to God, thanking him for sparing my life thus far.
I don’t
know what distracted Jack from where I was, but he and his men never came back
my way. Still, terror surrounded me, and the night was eerily quiet…too quiet.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep or passed out, but I awoke with the
morning sun to the sounds of Eli Stroud calling my name. I uncurled myself from
Rufus, stood up, and saw Mr. Stroud motioning for me to join him at the cabin.
William lay
where’d fallen, inside the cabin door. His shirt was bloodied with long straight
tears, wounds from a hatchet. His skull was exposed from where the death blow
had split his brains in half. But inside the cabin was the real horror, among
the scattered bodies in the center of the floor sat Mrs. Stroud, gently rocking
her infant child. Stroud and I moved slowly into the room, but she caught sight
of us out of the corner of her eye. She let forth a low, inhuman wail as
clutched her babe to her chest. Clearly dead, the baby’s head was practically
severed from its body. Mrs. Stroud was in a sad state, too. Her face had dried,
caked blood encrusted in pools under her eyes and running in rivulets down to
her chin. She’d been scalped and left for dead. At some point, she must’ve
regained consciousness and crawled over to her child. She had sat through the
night with it cradled in her arms. Eli Stroud sank to his knees in front of his
wife, staring in disbelief, but she, well, she just looked right through him,
like he wasn’t even there.
I began to move among my children. All dead,
all scalped, I thought to myself. But then, Rufus went to Mary Ann and
Elizabeth, who were heaped in a mass together. He whimpered softly, and to my
amazement, Mary Ann moved. I ran to my child, and as I grabbed her up,
Elizabeth opened her eyes and weakly cried, “Mama.” Like Mrs. Stroud, they’d
been scalped. The front of their heads were devoid of flesh and hair, with the
remaining strands a rusted blood color. I cast about for something to stem the
flow of blood, but I had to tear off a part of my dress to wrap their heads.
They were hurt, but they were alive! God be praised! Savannah Jack hadn’t taken
them all.
Mr. Stroud
and I knew there was only one thing we could do. Not knowing where Jack’s party
was, we couldn’t risk another attack. We knew we wouldn’t be so lucky a second
time. Eli left the cabin and went outside looking for a horse. He finally came
back with one, and he hitched it to the wagon. I got my daughters and Rufus
loaded in. We tried to pry the baby loose from Mrs. Stroud, but when we did, she
grappled at our necks with an unholy look in her eye. In the end, we let her
keep the child. We left the others where they lay because we did not have time
to spare. It is my greatest shame that I left my husband and children there
without a proper Christian burial, but I had to help the living. The dead were
beyond my aid.
Mr. Stroud
and I managed to make it up to Holley’s Store, but there Mrs. Stroud died, with
her baby still clutched in her arms. We buried the two together on the side of
the road, then proceeded on to Claiborne for Dr. Watkins. Mary Ann died as soon
as we reached the doctor, but my daughter Elizabeth lived, though she weren’t ever
right again. A week after Savannah Jack massacred my family and the Strouds, he
attacked Captain William Butler and his men while they were enroute from Fort
Bibb to Fort Dale. Jack murdered three more men that day. It was after the
brave Captain Butler, who went down fighting, that Butler County came to be
named.
As for me,
well, my tale doesn’t quite end here. I eventually moved back to Poplar
Springs, near my old homestead. I remarried to a neighbor, Archelaus Dickerson,
and together, he and I had six more children. Of course, those children could
never replace the ones I lost in the massacre. Nothing could ever make that
right.
And what of
Savannah Jack? Was he ever caught and punished? A bounty was put on his head
after all the murders he committed, but last we heard, Jack had moved west to
Texas. Who knows what became of him out there, but he never came back to Butler
County, Alabama.
Well,
that’s my story. It’s sad, but true. Although I am old now, I will never forget
the terrors of that night, when a band of Indians attacked my family, killed
all that I loved, and destroyed my world. No, I’ll never forget the night I
survived the Ogly massacre.