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ALABAMA
THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN STATE
ALABAMA
THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN STATE
EDWIN C. BRIDGES
THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA PRESS

tuscaloosa
p u b l i s h e d i n co o p e rat i o n w i t h t h e
alabama bicentennial commission
The University of Alabama Press
Tuscaloosa, Alabama 35487-0380
uapress.ua.edu
Copyright © 2016 by the University of Alabama Press
All rights reserved.
Inquiries about reproducing material from this work should be
addressed to the University of Alabama Press.
Typeface: Arno Pro and Myriad Pro
Manufactured in China
Cover images: (top) Alabama State Capitol, built 1851, Montgomery; (bottom) ruins of
the Bradford Cotton Factory, built c. 1840s, Coosa County. Photographs by Robin McDonald.
Cover and interior design: Robin McDonald
∞
The paper on which this book is printed meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard
for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Bridges, Edwin C., author.
Title: Alabama : the making of an American state / Edwin C. Bridges.
Description: Tuscaloosa, Alabama : The University of Alabama Press, [2016] | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016014717| ISBN 9780817319427 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780817358761
(pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780817390846 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Alabama—History.
Classification: LCC F326 .B85 2016 | DDC 976.1—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016014717
Published in cooperation with the Alabama Bicentennial Commission

F O R M A RT H A
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS viii
INTRODUCTION xii
Chapter 1 THE FIRST ALABAMIANS From about 11,000 BC to AD 1700 2
Chapter 2 THE LAND OF THE INDIANS 1700 to 1814 23
Chapter 3 COTTON STATE 1814 to 1861 57
Chapter 4 CIVIL WAR AND RECONSTRUCTION 1861 to 1875 93
Chapter 5 MINES, MILLS, AND MULES 1875 to 1914 129
Chapter 6 SHAKING THE FOUNDATIONS 1914 to 1955 168
Chapter 7 CHANGING TIMES 1955 to 2010 205
AFTERWORD 240
NOTES ON SOURCES 242
INDEX 245
ILLUSTRATION CREDITS 250
Alabama: The Making of an American State
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
T
he people who preserve, study,
and write Alabama history are members
of a remarkable and wonderful commu-
nity. Perhaps there is something self-
selecting about a group such as this because people
who invest a great deal of time studying the history
of a place are bound to care about it and its people.
But I think there is even more to be said for our com-
munity in Alabama. We work together. We learn
from and help each other. And we enjoy each other’s
company. I feel very lucky that my professional ca-
reer situated me among such great people.
I want to begin these acknowledgements by
thanking these Alabama history colleagues. But I
also need to acknowledge to readers that this book
is in many ways a community product. It was built
from books and articles my colleagues have written,
presentations they have made, and personal conver-
sations, some of which have continued for decades.
I am deeply grateful for all they have taught me over
the years and for their friendships.
Staff of the Alabama Department of Archives and History

in the archives room at the State Capitol in Montgomery,
Alabama, photographed in 1915: Dr. Thomas M. Owen,
director (1); H. S. Halbert, honorary curator (2); J. W.
Dubose, historian (3) Gertrude Ryan, librarian (4); Peter A.
Brannon, chief clerk (5); Henry Knight, clerk (6); Blendine
Higgins Crowell, stenographer (7); Carrol Smith, clerk
(8); Josie Shackleford, stenographer (9). The Alabama
Department of Archives and History was located in the
Capitol until the World War Memorial Building was built
in 1940. Before the construction of the Capitol’s south
wing, the Archives used the House and Senate chambers
when the legislature was not in session.
I wish I could thank and acknowledge each col- and fair recognition. I hope all of you in the commu-
league at every single point in the text where his or nity of Alabama historians who see your work rep-
her insights have contributed to what I have written. resented here will forgive my omissions of specific
My purpose in this book, however, has been to write credit and will accept instead these general thanks.
about Alabama history in a way that a nonprofes- There is another group of friends I would like to
sional would find interesting and readable. To me, thank as well—members of the Board of Trustees
that means that the text should not be burdened of the Alabama Department of Archives and His-
with the footnotes that would be necessary for full tory. I started my career in another state where the
A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S ix
archival agency was under the administration of an story in the historical period and carried it into the
elected state official. In my work there, the main present. She has helped educate me on this impor-
priority of the people in charge of our agency was tant part of Alabama’s story.
virtually always how to get our political leader ei- Richard Bailey, who has retired as a historian
ther re-elected or elected to some higher office. from Maxwell Air Force Base, Michael Fitzgerald at
I came to Alabama in 1982 in part because the St. Olaf College, and Guy Hubbs, recently retired
Alabama Department of Archives and History is from Birmingham–Southern College, all read and
governed by a Board of Trustees. It was one of the critiqued the Civil War and Reconstruction chap-
best decisions of my life. For my entire career at the ter. Guy actually read an earlier version of the entire
Alabama Archives, the basic criterion for every sin- draft. All three were insightful reviewers, and they
gle decision we made was: what is the best course helped me understand more clearly this particu-
to follow for preserving Alabama’s historic records larly difficult and complex part of Alabama’s story.
and artifacts and for promoting the understanding David Robb has taught me about several aspects
of Alabama history? The trustees were my bosses, of early Alabama history, and he graciously shared
but we were also colleagues committed to a com- his research findings and insights with me. Frances
mon cause, and we became friends. I want to express Robb reviewed, critiqued, and assisted in my photo
my deepest gratitude to all of them. Also, their selections, and she also read an earlier version of
kindness in naming me director emeritus after my the text and provided thoughtful and constructive
retirement made it much easier for me to work on editorial suggestions.
this book. My colleagues at the Alabama Department of
I would also like to thank all the friends who Archives and History have also been extraordi-
helped review earlier drafts of this book. Leah At- narily helpful. Bob Bradley critiqued the Civil War
kins has a special place in Alabama history, both as chapter. John Hardin read the entire manuscript
a historian and as an unwavering, energetic friend and offered many valuable corrections and sugges-
to us all. She nudged and occasionally pushed me tions. I consulted many times with John and with
to write this book, and she read large parts of it to Norwood Kerr and Ken Barr on sources. Bob Brad-
help make sure I was on track. Mills Thornton has ley, Ryan Blocker, and Graham Neeley all helped
been a friend since my first months at the Archives, with artifact images and citations. Graham espe-
and a teacher. Readers will notice how heavily I cially worked with me through the artifact image
have relied on his work, but my obligations to him files and the Archives’ source documents on the
go well beyond these obvious references. They in- artifacts. Meredith McDonough, who handles the
clude years of conversations that have always been Department’s photo collection, is one of the ablest
both enriching and enjoyable, and he also read an archivists I have ever known. She provided incred-
earlier version of the entire manuscript, making ible help with images of photos, documents, maps,
important corrections and suggesting additional and artifacts, and I am deeply in her debt for her
points to be added. ready assistance and useful suggestions.
Other friends read and commented on chapters All these colleagues were part of the team that
that relate to their areas of specialization. Follow- worked on the Alabama Voices gallery at the Archives,
ing the chronology of the book, they are John Hall, as were most of the outside scholars listed above.
an amazing naturalist now at the University of West Steve Murray, now the director of the Archives, was
Alabama, and Craig Sheldon, who retired from Au- a key member of this museum design team as well,
burn University at Montgomery but is still an ac- and he has been supportive of my efforts over the last
tive, generous, and thoughtful colleague. Kathryn three years as I have continued using the facilities of
Braund at Auburn University picked up the Indian the Archives in working on this project.
x ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

Many other colleagues from outside the Ar- barrages of questions with unfailing grace and also
chives also helped with images or research inqui- provided very useful editorial comments. Dan Wa-
ries: Jim Baggett at the Birmingham Public Library terman, the Press’s editor-in-chief, has been enor-
Archive; Mike “Mule” Baker at the Army Mate- mously helpful in overall planning and production
riel Command at Huntsville; Robin Brown at the issues for the book, and he has encouraged me in
Cobb Memorial Archives in Valley; Farris Cadle, the project since we first discussed it as a possibil-
from Garden City, Georgia, an independent re- ity. Robin McDonald, the book’s designer, is far
searcher in surveying and land title history; Midge more than a gifted graphic artist; his knowledge of
Coates from the Auburn University Libraries; Alabama history is wide-ranging, and his own im-
Peggy Collins at the Alabama Department of Tour- ages have added a great deal to improve the balance
ism; Linda Derry from Old Cahaba Historic Site; and quality of the illustrations. I am deeply grateful
Boyce Driskell from the University of Tennessee; for all that he has done to make this book so attrac-
Jun Ebersole from the McWane Science Center in tive and to produce a design that I think enriches
Birmingham; Carol Ellis at the University of South the text.
Alabama; Betsy Irwin at Moundville Archaeologi- Finally, I want to thank my long-suffering wife,
cal Park; Mary Nicely at the Florence Department Martha. To her I owe the most of all, though I will
of Art and Museums; Betsy Nichols at the Selma confine my expressions of gratitude here to all that
Public Library; Greg Speis from Mobile, an expert she did relating directly to this book. History is not
on historical surveying in Alabama; Beth Spivey her first love, or even her second, but she has en-
at the Selma-Dallas County Museum of History; couraged and supported me from the start, despite
Bill Tharpe from the Alabama Power Company many inconveniences and disruptions to her own
Archives; Mike Warren and Garland Stansell at plans and interests. She is also a wonderful editor
Children’s Hospital; and Greg Waselkov at the and has read the entire manuscript at each stage of
University of South Alabama. Peggy Gallis, one of
. its development. Her delete files contain scores of
Georgia’s biggest fans of Alabama history, intro- pages of awkward and unclear sentences, extrane-
duced me to several scholars from outside Alabama ous words, and nonsense. In fact, readers of this
whose works have been important for this book. book owe her a debt of gratitude as well because
Jay Lamar, director of the Alabama Bicentennial her insightful pruning will save them a great deal of
Commission, has been another supporter, and she time and effort.
also edited an early draft of the manuscript. Dave Of course, none of these people is responsible
White, formerly of the Birmingham News and now for the problems this book has. I did not always
a staff member of the governor’s policy office, read accept their recommendations (though I usually
the manuscript as a nonprofessional historian and did). Also, most of the copy was reworked in vary-
a professional writer, and he offered many sugges- ing degrees after they made their comments, and I
tions that greatly improved the book’s readability. did not feel I should impose on them for a second
Lee Sentell, director of the Alabama Department of reading. In the end, the book simply reflects my
Tourism, has been a supporter of this project from best efforts to tell the story of Alabama as I under-
the first day I mentioned it to him. I am deeply grate- stand it. The writing took much longer than I had
ful for his assistance and friendship, for the great expected, but it has been a journey of discovery for
leadership he has provided for tourism develop- me as well. And it has been great fun because the
ment in Alabama, and especially for his work in pro- subject is so incredibly interesting.
moting an expanded awareness of Alabama history.
At the University of Alabama Press, my primary —Edwin C. Bridges,
contact has been Donna Cox Baker, who has fielded Montgomery, Alabama
A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S xi
Alabama: The Making of an American State
INTRODUCTION
D
uring my years at the Alabama
Department of Archives and His-
tory, I have had the privilege of giv-
ing tours to many wonderful people.
One of our most famous visitors was the scientist
Edward O. Wilson, who grew up in Alabama and
still has a passion for its history. As we finished,
Dr. Wilson paused for a moment and then asked
if I thought Alabama’s history might actually be as
powerful an epic as those of Greece and Rome.
By that time, I had been caught up in the story
for many years, and I knew how amazingly interest-
ing Alabama history is. Dr. Wilson’s query helped
me realize that stories I found so rich might also ap-
peal to people who are not history buffs. We may
not have Socrates or Caesar, but as a whole, our
story really is a drama of epic proportions.
Alabama history can also serve as window into
American history. Almost every great theme in
American history can be found in the story of Ala-
bama—from the Stone Age to the Space Age. And
on more than a few occasions, events in Alabama
helped shape the course of American history.
At this point, I encourage readers who are so in-
clined to skip the rest of the Introduction and go
straight to the story. What follows is a statement of
why I thought there was a place for a book such as
this and a review of ideas and considerations that
guided me in writing it.
Why I have written the book: For more than three

decades working at the Alabama Archives, I have
been happily situated in a middle ground between
academic historians and the general public. I have
seen my academic colleagues devote their careers
to intensive historical research, and their books and depth and detail. In fact, many people have asked
articles have taken Alabama history to new levels of me to recommend a general history of the state
understanding. These colleagues have become my they can read as an introduction. That is what I have
teachers and friends. attempted to provide with this book.
Most of their writings, however, are scholarly
pieces focused on limited topics, geographic areas, Founded in 1871, and nicknamed the “Magic City” for the
or time periods. Readers interested in a big-picture speed of its growth, Birmingham’s downtown presents a
overview often do not want to start at that level of pleasing combination of modern and historic architecture.
I N T R O D U C T I O N xiii
There are other reasons for the book as well. be learned from our struggles and difficulties than
One is that we are approaching Alabama’s bicen- from our successes.
tennial, and a major commemoration is a natural Another concern is all the interesting and im-
time to pause and reflect on the past. I thought that portant material I have had to omit. In every area
a book like this might be useful for bicentennial of Alabama history, the deeper one drills, the richer
discussion programs. In addition, Alabama is now the story becomes. Yet, for this book to function
coming out of a period of major upheaval that be- as an overview, it was necessary to enforce a strict
gan with the civil rights movement and has brought discipline of selection, lest it become a tome. Many
massive changes to the state. As the state changes, significant people and incidents receive only pass-
we continually need new history books that in- ing reference, and some receive none at all. I have
clude the recent past and incorporate new insights had to leave out many of my own favorite stories.
we have gained. The writing process was much like producing a
The final reason for the book is that I was part of documentary film, in which hours of great foot-
a wonderful team of historians, designers, and staff age are left on the cutting room floor as the work is
members at the Alabama Archives who worked for trimmed to a manageable presentation.
several years on the Museum of Alabama exhibits The full story of the past is so complex that we
that opened at the Archives in 2014. I thought a cannot begin to know it all. Yet despite the impos-
book that explores in more depth issues introduced sibility, we still try our best to make sense of what
in the exhibits might supplement what we did and happened before us. We have to do this, because
provide visitors a convenient source for further our understanding of the past serves as the frame-
reading. Although the book draws from our design work that guides us in the decisions we make about
work, it is not intended as a print version of the ex- the future. A deeper and more accurate knowledge
hibit. It is, rather, an effort to build on our work and of the past can help us make better-informed and
carry it a step further. more effective decisions today.
As an overview, this book attempts to trace the
Ideas and concerns that guided me in the writing pro- broad contours of Alabama history. It is based on
cess: As best I could, I have tried to examine what the scholarship of Alabama historians of this gen-
people in the past experienced as they grappled with eration, and I have tried to be as fair and accurate
the challenges of their times. I have tried to take each as possible in representing their work. But it is only
group seriously and to explore why its members a sketch of a vastly larger story. I hope readers will
thought and acted as they did. My goal has been to find the book both a useful introduction to Ala-
understand, not to assign blame or merit. All peo- bama’s history and a stimulus to explore it further.
ple have reasons for what they do that make sense
to them. Other people may or may not approve of
those reasons, and people may even deceive them- FRONT MATTER PHOTOS: Page i: Interior of the dome of
selves about what their true reasons are. But a first the Alabama State Capitol in Montgomery, with murals
step toward understanding is trying to see other peo- depicting scenes from Alabama history by Roderick
ple’s experiences from their perspective. McKenzie; pages ii-iii: Old chamber of the Alabama House
One concern for me is that readers may feel this of Representatives in the State Capitol; pages iv-v: View
book focuses too heavily on our conflicts rather from Cheaha Mountain in Cleburne County, the highest
than on our achievements. But I think examining point in Alabama at 2,413 feet; pages vi-vii: The McCrary
the conflicts is necessary for understanding Ala- Farm near Huntsville, thought to be the oldest farm
bama history. They are the reason our history is in Alabama still in the same family; oppposite page:
so rich and dramatic. And there is usually more to U.S. Geological Survey map of Alabama, created in 1970.
xiv ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AM E R I C A N S TAT E

C h a pt er 1
THE FIRST
ALABAMIANS
From about 11,000 BC to AD 1700
P
eople have lived in what would become Alabama
for thousands of years. The first Alabamians arrived during the
Ice Age. Their story resembles that of people in other parts of
the world where life progressed from a Stone Age culture to an
agriculture-based civilization. By AD 1500, Indians in Alabama had built
a complex society that included walled towns, skilled crafts, systematic
plant cultivation, extensive trade networks, chiefdoms that linked clusters
of villages, and a rich community and religious life.
The arrival of Europeans, with diseases to which the Indians had no
immunity, brought a catastrophic loss of life and a collapse of Indian so-
ciety. The first people of Alabama left no written records to tell their story,
but evidence of their lives is still found in the land itself. Some Alabamians
today are their descendants.
FIRST ARRIVAL IN ALABAMA
Archaeologists now generally agree that Asiatic people crossing

through Alaska were the first settlers of the Western Hemisphere.
During the Ice Age, ocean levels were much lower than they are today
because so much water was locked in huge glacial masses. The shal-
lower seas exposed a large land area between Siberia and Alaska that
archaeologists call Beringia. People from Asia moved into Beringia
and lived there for thousands of years, and some of them migrated
from there into the Americas.
Mural of a funeral procession at Moundville about AD 1400. Located in present-

day Hale County, Moundville was one of the most important centers of
Mississippian culture in North America. Its walls enclosed twenty-six mounds.
(Murals shown in this chapter were prepared for The First Alabamians gallery
at the Alabama Department of Archives and History by Karen Carr Studios.)
Below: Paleo-era projectile points. Ongoing archaeological research is helping to map the settlers’
These beautifully crafted points are dispersion across the Western Hemisphere. Findings at Monte Verde,
shown at three-quarters of their Chile, show that humans reached the southern tip of South America
actual size. They were big and sharp before 12,000 BC. Remains found in the Meadowcroft Rockshelter in
enough to pierce thick hides of the southwestern Pennsylvania appear to be even older.
many large animals that lived in New genetics research supports the findings of the archaeologists.
North America, most of which were One recent DNA study concluded that the great majority of Indians
hunted to extinction by in the Western Hemisphere descend from a relatively small founder
the Paleo Indians. group that lived in Beringia about 21,000 to 18,000 years ago. Interest-
ingly, the human DNA studies are supported by genetics research on
Indian dogs. A study published in 2013 traces their origin to East Asia
as well, noting several breeds today that are their descendants.
We do not know exactly when people first reached Alabama. The
oldest evidence of habitation verified by radiocarbon testing dates
from about 11,000 BC. Many tools and projectile points found in Ala-
bama are similar to those from other sites where Indian presence be-
fore 11,000 BC has been scientifically confirmed. The early Alabama
objects, however, have been loose finds, not embedded with organic
material that can be tested for its age. Given the number of these
objects and the proven reach of early Indian migrations, it seems
almost certain that people arrived in Alabama even before 11,000
BC. We just do not have hard evidence yet.
THE PALEO PERIOD (11,000 BC TO 8,000 BC)
Archaeologists refer to earliest settlers as Paleo (from the Greek

word old) Indians. They were Stone Age people, living very much
as their counterparts across the world did then and very much as
their ancestors had for thousands of years before.
Paleo Indians organized themselves in small bands, ranging in
size from twenty to fifty or more people and composed mostly of ex-
tended family members. Bands often met together for trade, ceremo-
nial occasions, hunting, and finding mates. They would also fight each
other to defend or acquire territory.
As foragers and hunters, Paleo Indians probably moved seasonally to
take advantage of food sources. They may have kept a base area they re-
garded as home, but they would abandon it as food sources were depleted
or new opportunities appeared. Their numbers in Alabama would prob-
ably have been counted in the thousands rather than tens of thousands.
Many projectile points that survive from this era are large, beauti-
fully worked pieces, sharp enough to have pierced the thick hides of
Opposite page: Mural of Paleo Indian life. The first Indians arrived in Alabama
at the end of the last Ice Age expansion more than 13,000 years ago.
4 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

T H E F I R S T A L A B A M I A N S 5
Right: Jun Ebersole, curator of
collections at the McWane Science
Center in Birmingham, showing the
hand of a ground sloth, a Megalonyx
jeffersonii. Found in a cave in north-
west Alabama, these remains date
from about 35,000 years ago and
are the most complete specimen set
for the species ever found. Below:
Mastodon tooth found by Robert G.
McLean in 2004 in a creek in Butler
County. Mastodons were among the
large Ice Age animals in
Alabama that the first
settlers hunted.
mammoths. North America was then home to many different

kinds of large animals, including mammoths, mastodons,
giant bison, ground sloths, saber-toothed cats, camels, and
wild horses. Because these animals had never been exposed
to human beings, they lacked an instinctive fear of people.
In the course of 2,000 years or so, the Paleo Indians hunt-
ed to extinction thirty-four of the forty-seven genera of large
mammals known to have inhabited North America. It was the
second large mass extinction in history caused by human beings,
following one in Australia, where a similar process had played out
thousands of years earlier.
The many projectile points and scrapers found across the
Tennessee River Valley indicate that it was one of the most
densely settled parts of North America. The oldest known
site of habitation in Alabama, with intact deposits and or-
ganic remains, is Dust Cave, near Florence. Archaeologists
working the site literally scraped off hundred-year slices of
accumulated debris as they dug down to the original cave
floor, which dates to around 11,000 BC.
Because most materials used by the Paleo Indians have
decomposed, we have only limited remains from their lives to
study. Anthropological research on remote societies where
Excavation trench cut by archaeologists into the floor of Dust Cave

in Lauderdale County, the oldest known site of human habitation
in Alabama. The residue of daily life built up on the cave floor to a
depth of almost fifteen feet over the course of thousands of years.

Stone Age practices continued into recent times has aided in the study
of Paleo Indians, and new technologies such as genetics keep open-
ing new avenues of investigation. The amazing discoveries of the last
half-century give hope of much more information and a deeper un-
derstanding still to come.
THE ARCHAIC PERIOD (8,000 BC TO 1,000 BC)
Glaciers did not reach Alabama during the last expansion epochs of
the Ice Age, but the climate was much colder then and resembled a
wet version of today’s Minnesota. By about 8,000 BC, however, tem-
peratures warmed, and the climate changed to something like what
it is now. New plant and animal life emerged that fit this new en-
vironment. Melting icepacks caused a rise in sea level that covered
Beringia and also moved the Alabama coast to its present location
from a hundred miles farther out in the Gulf. The climate changes
brought changes in the lives of Alabama Indians, as they adapted to
the warmer environment. Archaeologists use these changes to mark
the end of the Paleo period and the beginning of the Archaic period.
In setting these large historical periods, archaeologists readily
acknowledge that the time boundaries are not hard and fast. Life
for early Indians continued from generation to generation with
little noticeable change. Yet there were changes, and even small
changes over the course of hundreds of years eventually pro-
duced clear differences.
In the Archaic period, the great animals of the Ice Age
were gone, but the new climate supported many species of
smaller animals. Meat sources included deer, bears, rabbits, tur-
keys, squirrels, raccoons, ducks, and turtles. Streams and rivers
yielded fish and mussels. Ancient layers of discarded mussel
shells found along many Alabama riverbanks are a reminder today
of people who ate there thousands of years ago. Along the Gulf Coast,
Indians could add oysters, crabs, and other marine life to their diet.
Paleo Indians also relied on a variety of plant food that they gath-
ered—including nuts, acorns, seeds, berries, roots, and greens. Learn-
ing to nurture some plants to increase their production was another Archaic-era points. Points of this
major development. By the late part of the period, Paleo Indians were period are generally smaller than
planting or tending plots of gourds, squash, sunflowers, and even those of the Paleo period, since the
some grains—adding new reliability to their food supply. animals the Indians hunted were
Paleo Indians also developed new and better vessels for cooking generally smaller. The points shown
food. They learned to quarry large chunks of soapstone, using harder here would have been used for
rocks as tools. By scraping out the centers of these pieces, they cre- knives or spears, since the bow and
ated pots. Cooking meat and vegetables in pots meant that more of arrow was not yet in use.
the nutrients were captured in stews rather than lost as drippings into
Mural depicting life for Archaic a fire. Increasing the nutritional yield of their food could mean the dif-
Indians after the end of the last ference between life and death for people struggling at the margin of
Ice Age expansion. The older man survival.
is demonstrating a spear thrower, With the changes in climate and food sources also came new weap-
called an atlatl. ons and tools. The large, carefully worked projectile points required
for piercing a mammoth’s hide were no longer needed and were re-
placed by smaller and more varied points. A throwing device, called
an atlatl, added range and power to the thrust of Indian spears. Other
tools fashioned from stone, bone, hide, and wood aided the Indians in
gathering, preparing, and cooking food, as well as in making clothing,
building shelters, and supplying a few modest comforts.
Learning to make pottery from clay was an advancement of the late
Archaic period. Clay was far easier to work than stone, and clay pots

were lighter. They could be used to gather, store, and transport food, Top: Soapstone bowl. The sides still
as well as to cook it. Because fire-hardened clay is relatively durable, show the scrape marks of the harder
the pot fragments that have survived from this time period have be- rocks its maker used in carving it.
come an important tool for archaeologists studying the lives of the Above: Russell Cave in Jackson
early Indians. County. Now a National Historical
As Archaic Indians learned more ways to enhance their food sup- Monument operated by the National
ply, they were able to remain longer in the same place. The cultiva- Park Service, Russell Cave provided
tion of plants, in fact, required some degree of sustained care, at least shelter for people in Alabama from
through the growing season. Long periods of occupancy in Dust Cave about 10,000 BC to AD 1650.
and in Jackson County’s Russell Cave reflect an increasing tendency
toward a more settled lifestyle.
As Archaic Indians gained greater mastery over their environment,
their numbers slowly increased, and their lives became a little more
Mural depicting Woodland-era life. comfortable. Tools became more sophisticated, and more objects of
Pottery making, the cultivation of personal adornment appeared. Materials brought from many miles
plants, use of the bow and arrow, away—copper, sea shells, and certain rocks, for example—show that
and a more settled life help mark a system of trade connected Alabama Indians to people in other parts
this period of early Indian history. of eastern North America.
The Archaic Indians also began building earthen mounds for both
ceremonial and burial purposes. The burials show that some individu-
als were singled out for special honors, indicating the emergence of
more complex social systems. The burials also show evidence of belief
in some form of afterlife.

THE WOODLAND PERIOD (1,000 BC TO AD 1000) Top: Woodland-era stone gorget.
As people settled in the same place
About 1,000 BC, Indian culture in Alabama (as in other parts of for longer periods, they made and
North America) reached a new level of complexity. There were more accumulated more material goods,
people, more tools, more systematic agriculture, and a more settled such as objects of body ornamenta-
community life. Archaeologists use these changes to mark the begin- tion. Above: Woodland-era pot. This
ning of a new period they call Woodland. pot was found more than a century
By the Woodland period, pottery making was a standard part of ago by an amateur archaeologist at
Indian life. The different kinds of vessels, ornamentation styles, and a gravel pit in central Alabama.
types of clay the Indians used help archaeologists today trace cultural
changes and regional distinctions in the period. The variety of decora-
tive motifs and an increased beauty of design also show an expanded
aesthetic consciousness.
Woodland people kept regular gardens, and they cultivated more
plants, such as beans and grains, than their ancestors had. Their grow-
ing reliance on plants for food increased both their need and their
ability to stay longer in the same place. And a more settled lifestyle al-
lowed them to build larger and more long-lasting structures for home
and community life.
Two other significant Woodland innovations were cloth and the
bow and arrow. Handmade fabrics contributed both comfort and
convenience to daily life. Woodland women learned to dry, work, and
then hand-spin vegetable fibers into thread. They did not use looms
but looped and tied the cross-threads to produce workable fabrics.
The bow and arrow increased the ability of hunters to kill game, fur-
ther improving the variety and reliability of the food supply.
As Woodland Indians became more settled, they formed com-
munities that were linked together into tribal groupings, providing
greater security and an enriched social life. Their expanded social net-
works, along with increased ceremonial activities, brought more occa-
sions for sharing the stone and clay pipes that came to be widely used
in ritual smoking.
The size, number, and obvious importance of the earthen mounds
also help mark this period. Most early mounds appear to have been
burial sites for leaders. Funerary material in the burial sites show
the continuing growth of a social hierarchy. Some mounds also had
structures on top for ceremonial use, suggesting an expansion of ritual
activity. Woodland-era mounds have been found and studied across
Alabama, though, sadly, many have also been lost over time to erosion,
agriculture, and construction.
Top: Woodland-era projectile points.

The variety of points increased dur-
ing this period. Very small points
for arrowheads mark the emerging
use of the bow and arrow. Above:
Woodland-era stone pipe. A cane
stem would have been inserted
from the side for smoking. Right:
Woodland-era earthen mound.
This forty-three-foot-tall mound in
Florence is thought to have been
built between 100 BC and AD 400.

THE MISSISSIPPIAN PERIOD (AD 1000 TO AD 1550) Rattlesnake Disk. This stone disk
showing entwined serpents with
The Mississippian period was the high-water mark in Alabama’s In- a hand and eye in the center has
dian history. People of this period built on the achievements of their become Moundville’s iconic image.
Woodland ancestors, creating a substantial and relatively prosperous The disk is just over twelve inches in
society. diameter and half an inch thick.
Major increases in corn production appear to have made this suc-
cess possible. Whether the cause was a more productive variety of
corn, better cultivation techniques, or both is not certain. But the abil-
ity to produce and accumulate surpluses of food that could be stored
and used whenever needed was a great boon.
The Mississippians’ production of corn and other food through
systematic planting paralleled similar developments in other cultures
Left: Serpent-Bird Bowl, sometimes
called the Duck Bowl. Indian art
reached its apogee during the Mis-
sissippian era. This bowl, excavated
at Moundville in 1906 by Clarence
Bloomfield Moore, is widely regard-
ed as a masterpiece of Mississippian
art. Opposite page, above: Mural
depicting Mississippian agriculture.
Since Indians did not have beasts
of burden, they did not use plows.
Women and girls worked garden
plots with hoes and planting sticks.
Below: Mural depicting a chunky
game. Men competed to throw their
spears closest to that point where a
rolling disk would stop.
around the world that historians refer to as the Agricultural Revolu-

tion. It was a major turning point in the story of human development.
Increased production of plant food through agriculture made possible
increases in population, leading to the growth of the first towns and
cities, and to a whole new cultural system.
As the Mississippian Indians expanded their agricultural produc-
tion, they lacked the beasts of burden that most agrarian cultures in
other parts of the world had been able to domesticate. All the species
of these large animals in North America had been hunted to extinc-
tion ten thousand years earlier. But with rich forests and rivers nearby,
the Mississippians also continued to supplement what they grew with
animals they hunted, fish they caught, and nuts, berries, and greens
they gathered.
As their food supply improved and their population increased,
more people were freed from the burden of full-time food gathering
and production. And with more time to hone their skills and a grow-
ing demand for their products, Mississippian artisans crafted beautiful
pots, tools, ceremonial objects, and items of ornamentation that are
still admired and prized today.
Mounds that were substantially larger than those of earlier periods
were a distinctive feature of Mississippian culture. While some were
still used for burials, many appear to have been built to provide elevat-
ed lodges for clan or town leaders and high platforms for ceremonial
events. Moundville, along the Black Warrior River in present-day Hale
County, features twenty-six mounds surrounding a large central plaza.
The population living inside the walls has been estimated at about one

thousand, and another ten thousand or so people lived nearby. At its
peak, Moundville was one of the largest Mississippian towns in North
America.
Other Mississippian centers in Alabama were at what is now Bes-
semer, at Bottle Creek in the Mobile-Tensaw Delta, and at Florence
and Hobbs Island in the Tennessee Valley. These towns appear to
Top: Moundville Archaeological have been regional chiefdoms to which smaller nearby towns were at-
Park. One of Alabama’s most historic tached. All were located along streams or in river valleys where rich
sites, Moundville was preserved in alluvial soil supported the easy cultivation of corn. Some of the towns
the 1930s through the extra- were surrounded by protective log walls.
ordinary personal efforts of Walter The Mississippians appear to have lived mostly in small, one-room
B. Jones, then Alabama’s state houses. House walls were made by anchoring vertical wooden posts in
geologist. It has been subsequently the ground, weaving cane or branches through them, and then cover-
maintained and protected as a ing the resulting lattice with a clay plaster. Open hearths in the earthen
part of the University of Alabama floors were vented through the roof, without a chimney. Roofs appear
Museums. Above: Clay figure from a to have been made of grass thatch, sheets of bark, or, in southern Ala-
pot fragment. Mississippians often bama, palmetto branches.
depicted human faces and fanciful One of the mysteries of the Mississippian culture is its apparent de-
creatures on their pottery. cline in the latter part of the period. Archaeologists speculate on pos-
sible causes, such as climate change, some kind of failure in the corn
harvests, or warfare and political breakdown. Burial sites show that
warfare was a destructive part of life in the last half of the Mississippian
period. But for whatever reason, Moundville was largely abandoned as
a place of residence by about AD 1400, though it continued to be used
as a necropolis where nearby people brought their dead for burial.

ENTER THE EUROPEANS (AD 1513 TO AD 1561)
Although the Mississippian culture suffered internal stresses before

the 1500s, those problems paled beside the death and desolation that
Europeans brought. Historian Alfred Crosby coined the term Colum-
bian Exchange to describe the aftermath of 1492, when people from
two hemispheres, separated for thousands of years, came into contact.
What followed was an exchange of people, animals, plants, microbes, Mural scene depicting the first con-
technologies, and ideas that altered life in both worlds. tact between a small Mississippian
What this exchange first brought to Alabama Indians was wave af- Indian community and a band of
ter wave of epidemics, and death on a horrific scale. Many contagious soldiers from de Soto’s expedition.
diseases originate in animals and then mutate genetically to attack
people. Because Indians had no cattle, sheep, horses, or pigs, they had
not been exposed to a number of common European illnesses, such
as measles, scarlet fever, typhoid, typhus, whooping cough, cholera,
diphtheria, smallpox, chickenpox, and many respiratory infections
caused by viruses. Traditional medical practices, such as purging and
sweating, actually increased the Indians’ death rates.
Each Spanish landing, even those as distant as Florida, brought
the potential for new waves of epidemics. Juan Ponce de León “dis-
covered” Florida in 1513, but less well documented were landings by
private ships that swept the Florida coast, seizing Indians to work as
slaves in new Caribbean settlements. The first Spanish explorers to
touch what is now Alabama were probably members of an expedition
led by Alonso Álvarez de Pineda, who mapped the Gulf Coast in 1519.
Nine years later, Pánfilo de Narváez and Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca
followed with more extensive exploration.
De Soto meets Chief Tuscaloosa. Indians in Alabama had probably suffered effects of European diseases
This engraving from Histoire de la passed on through other groups even before 1540, when Hernando de
conquête de la Floride par Ferdinand Soto and his expedition arrived in the area. Under de Soto’s command,
de Soto (1731) imagines the first more than six hundred Spanish soldiers plundered and pillaged their way
encounter at Atahachi between through Alabama, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake.
de Soto and Chief Tuscaloosa, who With their protective armor, powerful horses, metal weapons, and fero-
is seated left under the sunshade. cious war dogs, they were almost impossible for the Indians to defeat.

In earlier expeditions through
Central and South America, the
Spanish had developed tactics
for seizing local leaders and hold-
ing them hostage. By threatening
their hostages’ lives, the Spanish
forced Indian communities to pro-
vide laborers, food, and women.
De Soto used these same tactics
in Alabama.
Archaeologists agree about
some sites marking de Soto’s
route, but others are disputed.
The locations of two camp sites
in Florida have been confirmed
by archaeological research, but de Soto’s exact route across Alabama Above: The Battle of Mabila. This
is less certain. Most researchers agree that he entered Alabama from engraving, also from Histoire de la
the northeast corner of the state and travelled southward along the conquête de la Floride par Ferdinand
east side of the Coosa River. Four narratives written later by members de Soto, imagines the Battle of
of the expedition describe general features that fit this route. These de Mabila. Below: Brass Spanish capstan
Soto chronicles are the first written records we have that describe what candlestick. Candlesticks of this
is now Alabama. They tell of substantial Indian chiefdoms along the type were made during the mid-to
way, with towns lining the river valleys. late-1500s. This one was found in
In the early part of October 1540, de Soto reached the town of the mid-1990s at an old Mississippian
Atahachi, home of Chief Tuscaloosa (which means Black Warrior in site in Dallas
English). Archaeologists believe they have located the site of Ataha- County.
chi a few miles west of Montgomery. The de Soto chronicles describe
Chief Tuscaloosa as a very large, well-built, and dignified man, but de
Soto took him hostage and made the usual demands for food, baggage
bearers, and women. Tuscaloosa replied that these things would be
waiting at the town of Mabila, several days’ travel away.
When de Soto arrived at Mabila on October 18, he found a site
protected by many warriors and a stout log wall more than fifteen feet
tall—probably a trap the Indians had prepared in advance. After de
Soto refused Tuscaloosa’s order to leave, a fight broke out that grew
into a full battle. According to the Spanish accounts, de Soto’s troops
killed thousands of Indians. Only twenty-two Spanish were killed, but
almost a hundred and fifty more were wounded, and they lost horses
and supplies as well.
After taking time to regroup, the Spanish continued west beyond
the Mississippi River and then returned back to it, where de Soto died.
The site of the town of Mabila and the great battle is still a mystery for
Alabama archaeologists. Finding it has become something of a mod-
ern version of the Grail Quest for many of them.
Through the mid-1500s, the destruction wrought by de Soto and
the even greater losses caused by European diseases led to a popula-
tion and cultural collapse among Alabama Indians. The next Spanish
expedition to enter Alabama was led by Tristán de Luna in 1559, just
nineteen years after de Soto. De Luna sent scouting parties into the in-
terior to trade with the Indians, but one party traveled for three weeks
and found only a single village. The death rate among Alabama Indians
may have been as high as ninety percent. The population loss was so
great that by the 1600s, bison from the West were migrating into the
region, grazing on old fields that Indian women had once tended.
REBUILDING (AD 1561 TO AD 1700)
De Luna’s expedition was the last Spanish incursion into Alabama for
more than a century. None of the expeditions had found gold or silver.
All had been costly. Some had been disasters. So after the mid-1500s,
the Spanish lost interest in the interior southeastern
part of North America.
As the conquistadors turned their attention else-
where, surviving Indians in Alabama began rebuild-
ing. At the same time, other Europeans, especially
the British, began establishing settlements along the
Atlantic coast, where occasional fighting between In-
dians and European colonizers continued. Some In-
dians from these areas fled and sought safety among
Alabama Indians.
Spanish lug-eyed hoe. This hoe, In the Alabama interior, Indians were partially insulated, but not to-
dating from the late 1600s, was tally cut off from European influences. European-made objects, such
found by an amateur archaeologist as metal hoes, cloth, jewelry, and glass beads, found their way into
at an old Indian site in central Alabama, traded by Indians who lived closer to European settlements.
Alabama in the early 1900s. When a new generation of Europeans ventured into Alabama again
more than a century after the Spanish had left, they found the Indians
living in small villages called talwas, usually built alongside creeks or
rivers. The “three sisters” of agriculture—corn, beans, and squash—
still provided their basic food supply, supplemented by game they
hunted or trapped and whatever they gathered from the forests, mead-
ows, and streams around them. Each talwa was a self-governing com-
munity, but most were linked to other towns in larger groupings based
on cultural, kinship, linguistic, and political ties.
Alabama Indians of the late 1600s no longer built mounds, and their
art was not of such exquisite beauty as in the peak years of the Mis-
sissippian culture. Their numbers were also tragically reduced from
what they had been two centuries earlier. Not more than about fif-
teen thousand people lived in all of what is now Alabama, the remains

of a population that had probably exceeded one hundred thousand Map of Louisiana and the Mississippi
people just two centuries earlier. River by John Senex (1721). Spanish
In this second wave of contacts, Europeans no longer expected to Florida, French Louisiana, and
find cities of gold. This time they came to trade. But they were also British colonies along the Atlantic
players in a new competition among European powers for imperial Coast were European footholds
dominance over North America. around the Indians of Alabama.
British settlements along the mid-Atlantic coast already reached The dotted line from Florida up
down to Charles Town in South Carolina. The French were expanding through what is now Georgia, the
from their base in Canada into the Mississippi River Valley. In 1682, Carolinas, and Alabama shows the
Robert de La Salle explored the Mississippi River to the Gulf of Mexico, supposed route of de Soto.
naming the territory through which he passed La Louisiane and claim-
ing it for France. Two years later, he returned to establish a colony on the
Gulf of Mexico, but he died in the unsuccessful attempt.
As the 1600s ended, what would become the state of Alabama was
still clearly Indian land. They set the terms under which outsiders
were admitted. Yet the number of outsiders was increasing, and their
growing power presaged many new struggles and hardships to come
for the Indians in Alabama.
THE FIRST ALABAMIANS 21

C h a pter 2
THE LAND
OF THE
INDIANS
1700 to 1814
I
n the early 1700s, Spain, France, and Great Britain all claimed
parts of the land that would become Alabama. That land was ac-
tually occupied by about twenty thousand Indians, most of whom
were members of a tribal grouping known by the British as Creeks.
For almost a century, the Creeks prospered in their dealings with the Euro-
peans. They used European weapons to attack other tribes and sold their
captives to the Europeans as slaves. Deerskins soon replaced Indian slaves
as the major trade commodity, and the deerskin trade grew into a major
enterprise that continued for several generations.
After the American Revolution, however, a new power threatened the
Creeks’ independence, as settlers from the recently formed United States
began pushing into Creek land. The Creeks struggled to hold the settlers
back, but their resistance efforts were finally crushed in what Americans
called the Creek War (1813 to 1814). The treaty ending that war forced
the Creeks to cede a large part of their land to the United States and left
them locked in a diminished reserve, encircled by the state of Georgia and
the new Mississippi Territory.
“Me-na-wa, A Creek Warrior,” (detail), 1836, from History of the Indian Tribes
of North America by Thomas McKenney and James Hall. Menawa, which means
“Great Warrior,” was a leader of the Red Stick Creeks and was in command at
the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, where he was severely wounded. He continued
as a Creek leader in the years after the battle. This lithograph is based on a
portrait by Charles Bird King that was painted while Menawa was in Wash-
ington protesting an improper cession of Creek land. In 1836, at the age of
seventy, Menawa was forced to leave his land and move west to what would
become Oklahoma.
Map showing the principal Indian THE SETTLEMENT OF MOBILE
towns and trading paths in the
Southeast just before the American In 1698, Louis XIV tried again to plant a French settlement on the
Revolution (with modern state Gulf Coast. La Salle had died in the effort eleven years earlier, but the
boundary lines superimposed). The Sun King still hoped to secure the land that bore his name, La Loui-
medium green, covering most of siane. Pierre Le Moyne d’Iberville, a Canadian-born French officer,
present-day Alabama and Georgia, led the new expedition. His fleet set sail from France in late 1698 and
denotes Creek land. The darkest arrived at Pensacola Bay in early 1699, just months after Spanish set-
green depicts areas under European tlers had landed there.
control. The lightest green denotes Iberville sailed farther west along the Gulf Coast and built a tem-
neighboring Indian lands. porary fort at Biloxi Bay. In 1702, he moved the colony to a new site
at Twenty-Seven Mile Bluff, upriver from present-day Mobile. That
site, Fort Louis de la Louisiane, was the first European settlement in
Alabama. Access to river systems reaching far into the interior gave the
French at Mobile a strategic advantage over the Spanish in Pensacola.

Iberville left Fort Louis after a few months, turning over command
of the colony to his capable, twenty-two-year-old younger brother,
Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville. Bienville negotiated with local
Indians and the Spanish to secure supplies and keep the colony alive.
In 1711, after a disastrous flood, he abandoned Fort Louis and moved
the settlement downriver to the present site of Mobile. Fort Louis and
then Mobile served for fifteen years as the capital of French Louisiana
until 1717, when the capital was moved and eventually established at
New Orleans.
To help in the hard labor of clearing land and farming, the French be-
gan using enslaved Indians, a standard practice for early European colo-
nizers. The Europeans provided weapons to Indians with whom they
were friendly and sent them on raids against other tribes. The Indian
allies then sold their captives to the Europeans and used the proceeds
to pay their debts and buy trade goods and more weapons. Thousands
of enslaved Indians were also shipped to plantations in the Caribbean.
Enslavement and the warfare that went with it brought still more Archaeological excavation of a 1706
misery and death to Indian people. Entire communities literally dis- barracks at Fort Louis. A team from
appeared from history. Just ten years after the French first settled at the University of South Alabama,
Mobile, the Indian population in the area fell by more than half, to led by Greg Waselkov, has worked
around two thousand people. for years on the site of Old Mobile.
T H E L A N D O F T H E I N D I A N S 25
The first shipment of enslaved people of African origin arrived in
Mobile from the West Indies in 1721. Both the Spanish and British
were already using slaves from Africa in their Caribbean plantations,
and black slavery soon replaced Indian slavery at Mobile. Though en-
slavement under the French was harsh, conditions were governed by
the Code Noir, which provided a number of legal protections for slaves.
The Code Noir was originally issued by Louis XIV and then recom-
piled for French Louisiana by Bienville in 1724. It stipulated, for ex-
ample, that husbands, wives, and young children owned by the same
master could not be separated by sale. It also allowed
enslaved people to buy their freedom. Once freed,
they were to enjoy “all the rights and privileges inher-
ent to our subjects born in our kingdom.” Some for-
mer slaves eventually became slaveholders themselves.
Slavery in early Mobile was considerably more flexible
and humane than it became later during the cotton era
of the 1800s.
THE CREEKS AND THE

Bottle and porringer taken from DEERSKIN TRADE
archaeological excavations at
Fort Toulouse. The site of Most of the Indians who lived in the future
the fort, located near We- state of Alabama were members of a tribe that
tumpka, is now a property the British called Creeks. The Lower Creeks
operated by the Alabama lived in the Chattahoochee River Valley, with
Historical Commission. some of their towns in what is now Georgia.
The Upper Creeks lived in the Coosa and Tal-
lapoosa river valleys. Creek towns were close-
ly related by language and tradition, but their
territory also included unrelated Indians who
had moved into the area seeking refuge from
warfare elsewhere. Most new arrivals gradually
became part of what later became the Creek Nation.
The Choctaws, Chickasaws, and Cherokees also claimed land in
Alabama, but their claims were mostly to hunting lands, part of their
extended territories. Their principal towns were all outside Alabama.
British traders began making regular trips into Creek country by
the 1680s. They usually offered the best trade goods of the three Eu-
ropean rivals, and they became the Creeks’ primary trading partners.
The alliance was interrupted in the spring of 1715 when some Creeks
joined the Yamasees of South Carolina against the British. Angered by
cheating traders and the effects of the Indian slave trade, the Yamas-
ees, Creeks, and other tribes launched fierce attacks against the South
Carolina settlements.

The South Carolinians were able to repel the attacks, but the con-
flict caused the Creeks to adopt a more neutral position in dealing
with Europeans. They invited the French to build a fort in their terri-
tory just above the confluence of the Coosa and Tallapoosa rivers to
counterbalance growing British power. Fort Toulouse, established in
1717, became the easternmost point of French control in the southern
part of North America. Still more Indian towns from the east moved
into Creek territory after the Yamasee War, but the Indian slave trade
faded away, replaced by the deerskin trade.
For nearly a century, the Creeks generally prospered from the deer-
skin trade. Europeans prized deerskins highly for gloves, book covers,
hats, saddles, and clothing. Before the Industrial Revolution, good
cloth was still relatively expensive, but deerskin breeches were durable Top: Silver gorget. This ornamental
and comfortable to wear. Historian Kathryn Braund has described piece would have been worn on the
them as “the eighteenth-century equivalent of modern denim jeans.” chest from a string hung around
By the mid-1700s, the Creeks were supplying tens of thousands of the neck. It bears the royal coat of
skins every year to British traders. Pack horses loaded with metal im- arms of the United Kingdom and
plements, cloth, ornaments, rum, and muskets left Charleston, Savan- the maker’s mark of Hester Bate-
nah, or Augusta traveling into Creek country. They returned loaded man, London, 1781. Above: Rhenish
with deerskins, as well as bear oil, hickory-nut oil, medicinal barks, salt-glazed stoneware mug, found
and beeswax. in archaeological excavations in
Alabama’s first historian, Albert Pickett, actually knew and talked Macon County. It bears the excise
with some of the traders who were still alive in the early 1800s. They mark of Queen Anne of England
described pack trains of small sturdy horses bred for the trade, loaded (1702–1714).
with sixty-pound bundles on each side and another on top. Traders
drove the ponies in groups of ten, wrote Pickett, and “used no lines,
but urged them on with big hickories and terrible oaths.” Bottles of
rum, slung across the drivers’ saddles and regularly consulted, made
the long, hard miles more bearable.
To secure ever more deerskins, Creek hunters ranged from the
Tennessee Valley in the north to the Tombigbee Valley in the west and
to Florida in the south. Deer hunting was based on old tra-
ditions, but commercial-scale hunting and the increased
contact with outsiders brought changes to Creek life.
Some European traders began settling in Creek
country, operating trading houses and often taking
Creek wives. Because Creek society was matrilineal,
the children of these unions were regarded as Creek.
Most of them were also bilingual, and they often en-
joyed special favors and benefits from their fathers.
They tended to be among the more suc-
cessful Creeks in negotiating this new,
blended world.
The process of encounter and adjust-
ment between Creeks and Euro-
peans—a continuation of
the “Columbian Exchange”
—lasted for generations,
from the late 1600s into
the early 1800s and beyond.
The Creeks remained committed to their own tra-
ditions and way of life, choosing new materials and practices
Top: Traders often carried rum that fit their tastes and preferences. But trade goods, intermar-
in glass bottles, both for their own riages, and even some of the ideas of the outsiders began to alter
use and to trade with the Creeks. Creek culture.
Above: French cannon abandoned
at Fort Toulouse in 1763. Later, the A BRITISH COLONY
Creek Indians took possession of
the cannon, and after their defeat, The first major threat to Creek preeminence was the Seven Years’ War
the Americans carried it to Mont- (1756–1763), known in America as the French and Indian War. No
gomery. In March 1825, the breech major fighting took place in Alabama, but the victorious British forced
blew off as the cannon was fired in the French to give up their North American territories. After more
celebration of the inauguration of than sixty years of French rule, Mobile became a British town. Fort
President John Quincy Adams. Toulouse was abandoned. Also as part of the peace treaty, the Spanish,
who had been allies of the French, had to cede Florida to the British
though they received Louisiana from the French in compensation.
British officials tried to be fair in dealing with the Indians. They
worked to keep settlers from encroaching illegally onto Creek land

and to ban deceitful and unethical traders. Nevertheless, with
the defeat and departure of the French and Spanish, the
Creeks lost the ability to play the European powers
against each other.
The British divided their new Gulf acquisitions
into two colonies. All of Florida from the Apala-
chicola River eastward to the Atlantic Coast be-
came East Florida. The remainder of Spanish
Florida west of the Apalachicola River, com-
bined with French Gulf Coast territory extend-
ing west to the Mississippi River, became West
Florida (see map on pages 32–33).
When the British took possession of Mobile
at the end of the war, they found a town that had
grown only modestly under French rule. A Catholic
parish had been formed in 1703, shortly after the first
settlement, so the Church was solidly established, and
new plantations had spread around Mobile Bay. But Mobile’s
economy had remained largely stagnant.
Economic conditions improved somewhat during the years of
British rule. Deerskins were the major export, along with lumber, tar,
and turpentine. Local plantations increased their production of rice,
indigo, and tobacco. The British strengthened the old French Fort
Conde and changed its name to Fort Charlotte. For a short time, Mo-
bile was the capital of British West Florida, but British officials soon
transferred the seat of government to Pensacola.
THE CREEKS AND THE AMERICAN

REVOLUTION
Ironically, Britain’s success against the French in the Seven Years’

War led to conflict with its North American colonies, and in 1776,
thirteen of those colonies rose up in rebellion. Only Canada, the Top: Miniature of Robert Farmar,
Caribbean Islands, and the two youngest colonies, East and West an American-born British officer
Florida, remained loyal. As the fighting began, some loyalists from the who took possession of Mobile from
rebellious colonies sought refuge in Mobile. Others fled to Indian land the French in 1763. Above: Ring
and to the new settlements along the Tensaw and Tombigbee rivers and case of Robert Farmar. After
just north of Mobile. leaving the British army, Farmar
British agents tried to enlist the Creeks against the Americans, and built a large plantation at present-
a few Creek war parties did join them in occasional raids. Overall, the day Stockton and became one of
Creeks seemed to prefer the British, but a few long-time traders from the wealthiest and most successful
Georgia worked energetically to discourage Creek involvement in the men in the Mobile Bay area.
war. At its end, the Creeks had been active enough to arouse American
fear and resentment, but not enough to affect the outcome.
Spanish map of Mobile, prepared The most important military action in Alabama during the Revolu-
just after their forces seized the tion was the Spanish seizure of Mobile. In 1779, acting as an ally of
town from the British during the France, Spain declared war on Great Britain. Bernardo de Gálvez, the
American Revolution. vigorous governor of Spanish Louisiana, captured Mobile in March
1780 and then Pensacola in 1781, restoring to Spain part of its old
colony of Florida.
After seventeen years of British rule, from 1763 to 1780, Mobile,
the Bay area, and the Tombigbee settlements all fell under Spanish
control. But Spain’s hold on its recovered colony of West Florida was
relatively weak. At the end of the Revolution, the new United States
succeeded Great Britain as the dominant power in North America, a
change that portended disaster for the Creeks. The Americans cared
30 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G O F A N AM E R I C A N S TAT E
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“Oh! she understands well enough, and so does Dick, and so do I.
But are they safe here?”
“Safer than in London, only they must not speak ill of the lady
Tama. Good-night!”
“Good-night, dear Rupert,” she said, and went away, leaving him
seated there alone upon the platform.
That night Tabitha and Edith slept in the house which Mea had
assigned to them. It was situated upon a mountain-crest over two
miles from the town of which it formed part of the fortifications, was
cool, and commanded a beautiful view. To Dick Learmer was given a
similar but somewhat smaller house belonging to the same chain of
defences, but about five hundred yards away. Both of these houses
were provisioned, and both of them guarded day and night, that no
harm might come to the guests of the tribe.
So angry was Edith that for a long while she would scarcely speak
to Tabitha, who, their meal finished, sat upon a kind of verandah or
outlook place, a shut Bible upon her knees, looking at the moonlit
desert upon the one hand, and the misty oasis on the other. At this
game of silence her patient, untroubled mind was far stronger than
that of Edith. At length the latter could bear it no longer; the deep
peace of the place, which should have soothed, only exasperated
her raw temper. She broke out into a flood of words. She abused
Tabitha for bringing her here and exposing her to such insults. She
named Mea by ill names. She declared that she would go away at
once.
“Ah!” asked Tabitha at last, “and will you take Dick with you?”
“No,” she answered; “I never want to see Dick or any of you
again.”
“That is unlucky for me,” said Tabitha; “but since I have reached
this nice place, I shall stay here the month and talk with Rupert.
Perhaps if he and that pretty lady will have me, I shall stay longer.
But I, too, do not want the company of Dick. As for you, dear Edith, if
you wish to go, they told you, the road is open. It will save much
trouble to everybody.”
“I shall not go,” exclaimed Edith. “Why should I leave my husband
with that woman who has no right to him?”
“I am not so sure,” answered Tabitha thoughtfully. “If my little dog
is caught in a trap and is ill, and I kick it into the street, and leave it
there to starve, and some kind lady comes and takes my little dog
and gives it a good home for years, can I say that she has no right to
it just because I find out, after all, that it is a valuable little dog, and
that I am—oh! so fond of it?”
“Please stop talking nonsense about little dogs, Tabitha. Rupert is
not a dog.”
“No; but then why should he have been treated as one? If such a
dog would have learned to love its new mistress, is it wonderful that
he should do the same? But have you learnt to care for him at last,
that you should want him back so much, he who lives here good and
happy?”
“I don’t know,” snapped Edith; “but I won’t leave him with that other
woman if I can help it; I don’t trust all that Platonic nonsense. I am
going to bed;” and she went.
But Tabitha still sat for a long time and gazed at the moonlit desert,
there making her accustomed prayers.
“Oh! God in heaven,” she ended them, “help those two poor
people whom Thou hast tried so sorely,” and as she spoke the words
a conviction came into her mind that they would be heard. Then,
feeling comforted, she too went to her bed.
In the morning Edith received a note from Rupert; it was the first
time that she had seen his handwriting for many a year. It ran:
Dear Edith,—I will not debate the strange

circumstances in which we find ourselves, and I write
to ask that during the ensuing month you will avoid all
allusion to them. The facts are known to us both, to
discuss them further can only lead to unnecessary
bitterness, and perhaps prevent a peaceful solution of
the trouble. If you agree to this, I write on behalf of the
lady Tama and myself to say that we are ready to enter
into a like undertaking, and that we shall be happy to
see you here whenever you wish.
If, on the other hand, you do not agree, then I think that
we had best keep apart until the day when I have
promised to give an answer to your question. A
messenger will bring me your written reply.
Rupert.
Edith thought a while, then she took a piece of paper and wrote
upon it with a pencil:
I agree.
EDITH.
P.S.—I enclose a letter which I have for you. He wrote

it shortly before he died. Also, there are some from the
lawyers.
“After all,” she reflected to herself, as she saw the runner depart
swiftly, carrying her packet on the top of a cleft stick, “it will give me a
little time to look round in peace. Rupert is right, it is no use
wrangling. Moreover, he and that woman are masters here, and I
must obey.”
Within an hour the runner returned again, bearing another note
from Mea, which, in very queer English, asked them both to honour
them with their company at the midday meal. They went, and on the
way met Dick, who had received a similar invitation. On arriving at
the town, they found Rupert seated beneath the verandah of his
house, and squatted upon the ground around him a considerable
number of people, all of them suffering from various complaints,
together with some women who held sick children in their arms. He
bowed to them, and called out in a cheerful voice:
“Forgive me for a little while. I have nearly finished my morning’s
doctoring, and perhaps you had better stand back, for some of these
ailments are infectious.”
Edith and Dick took the hint at once, riding their animals into the
shade of a tree a little way off. Not so Tabitha. Descending from her
donkey with a bump, she marched straight to Rupert and shook his
hand. Two minutes later they perceived that she was helping him to
bandage wounds and dispense medicines.
“How she can!” exclaimed Edith, “and the worst of it is she is sure
to bring some filthy disease back with her. Just think of Rupert taking
to doctoring all those horrid people!”
“They say he is uncommonly clever at it,” answered Dick, “and will
ride for miles to see a sick person. Perhaps that is why they are so
fond of him.”
“Why don’t you go to help him?” asked Edith. “You studied
medicine for two years before you went to the Bar.”
“Thanks,” he answered, “I think it is pleasanter sitting under this
tree with you. At present I am not a candidate for popular affection,
so I don’t see why I should take any risks.”
“Rupert doesn’t mind risks,” said Edith.
“No,” he said, “one of his characteristics always was to like what is
disagreeable and dangerous. In that fact lies your best chance,
Edith. He may even make up his mind to abandon an existence
which seems to suit him exactly and return to the joys of civilisation.”
“You are even ruder than usual, Dick,” she said. “Why did you
come here at all? We never asked you.”
“You cannot pretend, Edith, that gentleness has been your
prevailing note of late. For the rest, considering that on the results of
this inquiry depended whether I should be one of the richest men in
England or a beggar, it is not strange that I came to look after my
own interests,” he added bitterly.
“Well, you know now,” she answered, “so why don’t you go away?
Rupert is alive, therefore the property is his, not yours.”
“Quite so; but even Rupert is not immortal. He might contract one
of those sicknesses, for instance.”
“No such luck for you, Dick,” she said, with a laugh, “he is too
much accustomed to them, you won’t get rid of him like that.”
“I admit it is improbable, for he looks singularly healthy, does he
not? But who knows? At any rate, he is a good-natured fellow; I may
be able to come to some terms with him. Also,” he added, in another
voice, “please understand once and for all that I am going to see this
play out, whatever you or anybody else may say or do. I was in at
the beginning, and I mean to be in at the death.”
Edith shrugged her shoulders, turning away, for there was a very
unpleasant look upon Dick’s face, and just at that moment they saw
Rupert, who had washed his hands and changed his robe, riding
towards them upon a white mule by the side of which walked
Tabitha. He could not take off his hat because he wore a keffieh, but
he saluted Edith by placing his fingers upon his forehead; and then
stretched out his hand to her and to Dick.
“Forgive my dismounting, Edith,” he said, in a pleasant voice, “but
you remember what a dreadful cripple I am, and I haven’t been able
to grow a new foot, or even to get an artificial one here. I did send for
the article, but it must have been made for a lady; at any rate, it was
three sizes too small, and now adorns a black old beggar woman.”
Edith laughed; somehow the thought of Rupert’s mutilated state no
longer filled her with horror.
“Mea is expecting you all to luncheon,” he said, “if I may so call our
unconventional meal. Will you come?”
She nodded, making a funny little face, and rode away towards
Mea’s house at Rupert’s side.
“Did you get my note,” she said suddenly, “and the enclosures?”
“Yes,” he answered, “his letter is very painful—very painful indeed,
and the others are interesting. But we have agreed not to talk about
those things, haven’t we, until the month is up?”
“Certainly, Rupert,” she answered, in a gentle voice. “So far as I
am concerned, the past is all gone. I am here now, not to consider
myself, but to do what you desire. I only wish to say that I am sorry if
I spoke as I should not yesterday—and for many other things also,
Rupert, but really it was hard to have to listen to all those bitter
words, even if I deserved them.”
“I understand—very hard,” he said, flushing, “and now for the next
month it is settled that we are going to be just friends, is it not?”
“Yes, Rupert, as you have ordered it,” she whispered, and
glancing at her, he saw that there were tears standing in her blue
eyes.
“This business is going to be even harder than I thought,” reflected
Rupert to himself, and in another moment Mea, clad in her spotless
white, was receiving them with gracious smiles and Oriental
courtesy.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE WHEEL TURNS
This meal in Mea’s house proved to be the beginning of a very
curious existence for the four persons chiefly concerned in our
history. Every day, or almost every day, they met, and the solemn
farce was carried on. Mea and Rupert played their parts of courteous
hosts, Edith and Dick those of obliged and interested guests, while
Tabitha watched them all with her quiet eyes and wondered what
would befall when the truce came to an end. Soon she and Mea
were very good friends, so good that from time to time the latter
would even lift a corner of the veil of Eastern imperturbability which
hid her heart, and suffer her to guess what pain and terrors racked
her. Only of these matters they did not speak; not to do so was a part
of the general conspiracy of silence.
Edith was with Rupert as often as possible; she even took long
rides which she hated, in order to share his company, whilst with a
feverish earnestness he discoursed to her of all things in heaven and
earth, except those things which leapt to the lips of both of them.
She watched him at his work, and learned to understand how great
that work was and how well it had been done. She perceived that he
was adored by all, from Mea herself down to the little children that
could hardly walk, and began to comprehend the qualities which
made him thus universally beloved. More—the truth may as well be
told at once—now, for the first time in her life, they produced a deep
impression upon her.
At last Edith began to fall in love with, or if that is too strong a
term, at any rate really to admire her husband, not his nature only,
but his outward self as well, that self which to her had once seemed
so hateful, especially when she compared him with another man.
Now, by some strange turn of the wheel of her instincts, it was that
other man who was hateful, from whom she shrank as once she had
shrunk from Rupert, taking infinite pains to avoid his company, and
still more the tendernesses which he occasionally tried to proffer; he
who also had grown very jealous. The fact of Mea’s obvious
adoration of Rupert may, of course, in the case of a character like
Edith’s, have had much to do with this moral and physical volte-face,
but it was by no means its only cause. Retribution had fallen upon
her; the hand of Fate had pressed her down before this man’s feet.
Yet the worst of it was that she made no real progress with him.
Rupert was most courteous and polite, very charming indeed, but
she felt that all these things were an armour which she could not
pierce, that as he had once said, his nature and his spirit rose in
repugnance against her. Twice or thrice she took some opportunity
to touch him, only to become aware that he shrank from her, not with
the quick movement of a man who desires to avoid being betrayed
into feeling, or led into temptation, but because of an unconquerable
innate distaste—quite a different thing. She remembered his dreadful
words of divorce, how he had said that henceforth he hated her, and
that even should she in the future swear that she loved him, he
would not lay a finger-tip upon her. Why should he indeed when
another woman, more faithful, more spiritual—and yes, she must
admit it, more lovely, was the companion of his every waking thought
and hour.
See Edith now after she has spent fourteen days in her husband’s
company. She is tired with the long ride she has taken in the hot sun
just to be with him, feigning an interest in things which she did not
understand, about the propagation of date-palms, for instance, as
though she cared anything whether they grew from seed or
offshoots. Tired, too, with her long, unceasing effort to show him her
best side, to look cool and attractive in that heat and mounted on a
skittish horse which frightened her. (How, she wondered, did Mea
contrive never to seem hot or to lose her dignity, and why did her
hair always remain so crisp and unruffled even beneath her white
head-dress?) Annoyed also by Dick, who had accompanied her
home and showed his ever-growing jealousy in a most unpleasant
fashion, firing arrow after arrow of his coarse sarcasm at her, even
reminding her of that afternoon years ago when her husband was
supposed to be dead and she became engaged to him. She had
scarcely replied; it did not seem worth while, only in her heart she
vowed that should she ever have an opportunity, she would be rid of
Dick once and for all. Yes, she did not care what he might say or
what letters he threatened to publish, she would face it out and have
done with him, as she wished that she had found courage to do long
ago.
Now she was in her own room, and stretched face downwards
upon her angarib or native bedstead, she sobbed in the bitterness of
her soul. All her wiles, all her charm could not prevail against that
small but royal-looking Eastern woman with the ready wit, the single
aim, the mysterious face and the eyes like Fate, who had risen up
against her and taken with gratitude the man whom she had once
rejected, contented if only she might own his heart. Had it been
otherwise, quarrels might have arisen, or he might have wearied of
her; but that was the worst of it, where there was no marriage there
could be no wearying. Always she stretched before him a garden of
Eden, a paradise from which he was turned back by the flame-
sworded angels of his own strict righteousness and oath. And into
the rival garden which she, Edith, had to offer, whereof the gates,
once so locked and barred, now stood wide, he showed no wish to
wander.
What would be the end of it, when, at the expiration of the month
again she faced that alien multitude with their stony, contemptuous
eyes? Oh! surely then she would hear that he had taken counsel
with himself and that conscience of his; that he found no law which
forced him to return to a woman who had spurned him; that he
offered her his title and his wealth and wished her well, but that
himself he would bide where he was and discuss philosophy, and
doubtless other things, with his lady Tama, the beautiful and perfect.
It was too much. Edith gave way to grief uncontrolled, her sobs
echoed in the empty room so loudly that Tabitha heard them through
the thin partition wall and came in to see what was the matter.
“Are you ill?” she asked.
Edith in her night-dress sat up on the angarib, her face wet with
tears, her hair falling about her shoulders.
“I suppose so,” she answered. “At least I am unhappy, which is the
same thing.”
“What about? Has that Dick—?”
“Oh! never mind Dick; I am tired of Dick.”
“What is it, then? Rupert?”
“Yes, of course. Are you blind, Tabitha?”
“Ach! I think I see as far as most. But why should you weep over
Rupert so loudly that I can hear you through a wall? He is very kind
to you.”
“Kind, kind, kind?” answered Edith, increasing her emphasis upon
each repetition of the word. “Yes, he is kind as he would be to any
troublesome woman who had wandered here. I do not want his
kindness.”
“What, then, do you want? His anger?”
“No; I want—his love.”
“You can’t buy that for less than nothing, especially when there is
another merchant in the market,” remarked Tabitha thoughtfully.
“I don’t know what you call for less than nothing, Tabitha. Is
everything that I have to give less than nothing?”
“Mein Gott! I see. You do mean that you are in love with him
yourself?”
“Yes, I suppose that is what I mean. At any rate, he is my husband
—I have a right to him.”
Again Lady Devene reflected, then said:
“I always did wonder if it would end so. If you can come to care,
pity it was not long ago. Why have you put it off so long, Edith? Now
I think that perhaps it will be too late. What’s your English proverb?—
one day behind the fair.”
“If that is all you have to say, you might have stopped in your
room,” answered Edith, between her sobs.
“Himmel! what more can I say than the truth? I did not cook this
pudding, Edith. You cook it, and you must eat it. What is the good to
cry out that it is nasty now. Still I am sorry for you, my poor Edith,
who find out that if you throw enough stones into the air, sometimes
one fall upon your head.”
“Go away, please,” said Edith; “I don’t want to be pitied, and I don’t
want to be lectured. Leave me alone to eat what you call my
pudding.”
“Very well,” answered Tabitha quietly, “but you take my advice, you
ask God to make it sweeter, which you always forget to do.”
“I have forgotten too long, I am afraid,” said Edith, throwing herself
down again on the angarib and turning her face to the wall.
There were other sore hearts in Tama that night. For instance,
Rupert could not fail to see, if not all, at any rate a great deal of what
was passing in his wife’s mind. He understood that she was
earnestly sorry for what she had done and heartily wished it undone.
He was sure, also, from his knowledge of their previous close
relations, from the by no means obscure hints that she gave him,
and from what he observed of them when they were together, that
throughout she had acted under the influence of Dick, who had
made love to her both before their marriage and after his own
supposed death, which influence no longer had weight with her,
although she still greatly feared the man. Indeed, upon this matter he
had other sources of information—Tabitha, who told him a great
deal, and Dick himself who had tried to blacken Edith in his eyes by
letting little facts escape him—accidentally. Thus it came out that he
had been lunching with Edith alone on that New Year’s Eve when
Rupert returned to England, and by inference that they were then on
exceedingly intimate terms.
As a matter of fact, this revelation and others had an opposite
effect to that which was intended. They caused Rupert to make
allowances for Edith, and to understand that what he had set down
to mere cruelty and self-seeking, was perhaps attributable to some
passion which possessed her for this despicable man. He knew
enough of the world to be aware of the positive loathing with which a
woman who is thus afflicted will generally look upon any other man,
even one whom she has previously loved.
Now, pondered the gentle and compassionate Rupert, supposing
that he being apparently dead, his wife in name had given way to
this impulse and engaged herself to Dick with the usual affectionate
ceremonies (and he gathered that something of the sort had
happened), and that then there appeared that dead man as he was
at the time. Well, should not allowances be made for her, after all,
she who, he was sure, had already repented in sackcloth and ashes,
and to whom this Dick was, to put it mildly, no longer agreeable?
Meanwhile, hard as he might strive to conquer it—for was not this
an excellent opportunity to exercise his own doctrines of renunciation
and forgiveness?—he was possessed by a longing which at times
became almost uncontrollable, if not to twist Learmer’s neck, at least
to kick him with contumely out of Tama, where, it may be added, he
was already making himself a nuisance in various ways.
Such was the case against himself. But on the other hand, he
must face the terrible fact that those words which he had spoken in
the London drawing-room were, so far as he was concerned, utterly
irrevocable. The sudden detestation, the shrinking of body and of
soul that he had then conceived for his wife, remained quite
unaltered. To talk with her was well enough, but the thought of
returning to her made him absolutely shudder.
Yet the fact that to enter on to married life with Edith would be to
him the greatest purgatory; would mean also abandoning all his
hopes and interests in order to seek others which he did not desire,
could not, his conscience told him, affect the rights of the matter. If it
was his duty to go, these things should not be considered. But there
was Mea, who had to be considered. After all that had come and
gone between them, was it his duty to abandon her also? even
though the pure devotion and deep respect which he bore to her
might perhaps be the real cause of much of the active repulsion his
wife inspired in him—the converse, in short, of her case with Dick.
Mea, he knew, was wrapt up in him; for his sake she had put away
marriage and entered on the curious mode of life that had proved so
unexpectedly happy and successful. If he left her, he believed that
she would probably die, or would at least be miserable for the rest of
her days. Could it be expected of him that because of an empty
ceremony, whereof the other contracting party had at once violated
the spirit, he must do this great wrong to a beloved woman, who had
violated nothing except her own human impulses, which she, an
Eastern, trod down in order that he might be able to keep to the very
letter of his strict Western law?
The worst of it was that through all this terrible struggle, while his
soul drifted upon a sea of doubt, from Mea herself Rupert received
not the slightest help. Whether it were through pride, or a stern
determination to let things take their appointed course uninfluenced
by her, she spoke no pleading word, she made no prayer to his pity
or his love. Their life went on as it had gone for over seven years.
They met, they talked, they ministered to the sick, they dispensed
justice, they balanced their accounts, just as though there were no
Dick and no Edith upon the earth. Only from time to time he caught
her watching him with those great, faithful eyes, that were filled with
wonder and an agony of fear. It was on his head, and his alone, and
sometimes he felt as though his brain must give beneath the
pressure of this ordeal. He fell back upon the principles of his
religion; he sought light in prayer and wrestlings; but no light came.
He was forsaken; unhelped he wandered towards that fatal day, the
day of decision.
Richard Learmer also had been observing events, and as a result,
found himself in sore trouble. He perceived that Edith was drawing
nearer to Rupert. At first he had thought that she was actuated by
self-interest only, but during the last few days, many signs and
tokens had convinced him that something deeper drove her on, that
now the man attracted her, that she wished to win his love. Further,
Tabitha had told him so outright, suggesting that the best thing he
could do was to make himself scarce, as he was wanted by nobody.
He had refused with a smothered oath, and gone away to chew the
cud of his rage and jealousy.
It was a very bitter cud. His great fortunes had passed from him;
they were the property of Rupert. The only creature that he had
cared for was passing from him also; she and her money were going
to be the property of Rupert, in fact as well as in name. Of course
there remained the possibility that he would reject her, but in this
Dick did not for one moment believe. There was too much at stake. It
was inconceivable that a man would throw up everything in order to
remain the sheik of an Arab tribe, a position from which he might be
deposed by any conspiracy or accident. Doubtless he was
temporising merely to save his face with the other woman, and to
make himself appear of more value in the eyes of Edith.
So Rupert was going to take everything and leave him absolutely
nothing. What a difference the existence of this man made to him! If
he had died! If he should chance to die! Then how changed would be
his own future. Edith would soon drift back to him, after her fashion
when Rupert was out of the way, and he, Dick, would be the master
of her and of more wealth than even he could spend, the honoured
lord of many legions, instead of a shady and discredited person with
not a prospect on the earth, except that of the infirmary or the
workhouse. If only a merciful Providence should be pleased to
remove this stumbling-block!
But Providence showed no sign of stirring. Then why not help it?
At first Dick shrank from the idea, to which, however, his mind
became accustomed by degrees. Just for amusement, he
considered half-a-dozen ways in which the thing might be done, but
sinking the morality of the question, put them all aside as too risky.
The world called such deeds by an ugly name, and if they were
found out, avenged them in a very ugly fashion. Indeed, the fate of
anyone who was suspected of having interfered with Rupert in this
oasis would doubtless prove particularly unpleasant. It was not to be
thought of, but if only Fate would come to the rescue, could he help it
if by some fortunate chance he were appointed its instrument?
The student of life may sometimes have noticed that there does
seem to exist an evil kind of entity which, with Dick, we may call
Fate, that is on the look-out for trustworthy tools of his character, and
now, just in the nick of time, that Fate made its bow to him. It
happened thus. Dick had several natives with him, one of whom he
had hired as a dragoman at Tewfikiyeh. When they started on their
ride across the desert, this man seemed well enough, but two days
after they reached the oasis he began to be ailing. Apparently he
suffered from ague and nervous depression, after which he
developed glandular swellings in various parts of his body.
At first Dick, who, it will be remembered, had some acquaintance
with medicine, thought that he was going to be very ill, but in the end
the swellings burst, and he gradually recovered. When he was about
again, Dick asked the man, who could speak English, what he
considered had been the matter with him, whereon he replied that,
although he said nothing of it for fear lest his companions should turn
him out, he believed that he had been attacked by plague, as the
day before he left Tewfikiyeh, where there were several cases, he
had gone to visit a relative who died of it while he was in the house.
“Indeed,” said Dick, “then I bid you say nothing of it now, for
though I think you are mistaken, if once that idea got round, these
people would quarantine us all upon the mountain-top, or turn us into
the desert.”
Then, as no one else seemed to be unwell, he tried to dismiss the
matter from his mind, nor did he mention it at all.
A few nights later; it was on the seventh day after Edith, weeping
on her angarib, had made her confession to Tabitha, Dick returned
from the town in a very evil temper. Feeling that a crisis was at hand,
and that he must come to terms while he could, he had attempted to
make more confidences to Rupert, and had even hinted that if the
latter were interested in them, there existed certain letters written by
Edith which he might like to read. Rupert said nothing, so taking his
silence as an encouragement, Dick went on:
“Look here, Rupert; speaking as one man to another, you
understand, of course, that I am in a most difficult position. I thought
myself the heir to about a million pounds’ worth of property, but the
happy circumstance of your having survived deprives me of
everything. I thought also that I was the proud possessor of the
reversion to your wife’s affections; indeed, she left me little doubt
upon that point, for which of course you, who were nominally dead,
cannot blame her. These, too, must go with the rest, since naturally
Edith knows on which side her bread is buttered. Now I make you a
business proposition: You provide me with what I must have, enough
to live on—let us say, a capital sum of £300,000, which you can very
well spare, and we will balance our accounts once and for all.”
“And if I don’t?” asked Rupert quietly, for he wished to get to the
bottom of this man’s baseness.
“Then,” answered Dick, “I am afraid that instead of a sincere friend
Edith and yourself will find me, let us say, a candid critic. There are
many ill-natured and envious people who would be glad to read
those letters, and, like the Sibylline books, they may go up in price.”
“Have you them here?” asked Rupert.
“Do you take me for a fool,” he answered, “to trust such precious
documents to the chances of desert travel, or possibly to the
investigations of Arab thieves? No; they are safe enough in
England.”
“Where you intend to use them for purposes of blackmail.”
“That is an ugly word, Rupert, but I will not quarrel with it, who, as I
have remarked, must live.”
Now Rupert turned on him.
“I don’t believe,” he said, “that there is anything in your letters
which either Edith or I need fear; I am sure that she would never
commit herself too far with a man like you. Dick Learmer, you are a
villain! You have been at the bottom of all the unhappy differences
between Edith and myself. It was you, I have discovered from
Tabitha and from letters which have reached me, who got me sent to
the Soudan immediately after my marriage, as I believe—God
forgive you!—in the hope that I should be killed. It was you, by your
false information and plots, who subsequently blackened my
character, and as soon as I was thought to be dead, tried to take my
wife. Now, unless you can be bought off, you threaten to blacken
hers also, and indeed, have already done so to some extent. I repeat
that you are a villain. Do what you like; I will never speak to you
again,” and lifting the palm riding switch which he held in his hand,
Rupert struck him with it across the face.
With a savage curse Dick snatched at his revolver.
“Don’t draw that if you value your life,” said Rupert. “You are
watched, and whether you succeed in murdering me or not, you will
be instantly cut down. Take my advice; go for a few days’ shooting
on the hills until your people can get the camels up from the far
grazing lands, and then march. Be off now, and don’t attempt to
speak to either Edith or myself again, or I will have you bundled into
the desert, with your camels or without them.”
So Dick went with a face like the face of a devil, and with a heart
full of hate, jealousy, and the lust of vengeance.
When he reached his house, it was reported to him that another of
his people was very sick in a little outbuilding. He looked at him
through the window-place, and after what the first man had told him
—having refreshed his memory by reading up its symptoms in his
handbook of medicine—had not the slightest difficulty in recognising
a bad and undoubted case of plague, which, doubtless, had been
contracted from the dragoman who recovered. Now Dick made up
his mind at once that he would take Rupert’s advice and go on a
three or four days’ shooting trip. Accordingly, he gave the necessary
orders to start an hour before the dawn; then he sat down and
thought a while, rubbing the red mark on his cheek where Rupert’s
whip had struck him.
How could he be revenged? Oh! how could he be revenged? Of a
sudden, a positive inspiration arose in his mind. Rupert was an
amateur doctor; Rupert loved attending to the sick, and here was a
case well worthy of his notice. Perhaps that Fate for which he had
longed was appointing him, Dick, its instrument. He took a piece of
paper and wrote this note:
A desire to help another alone induces me to

communicate with you. One of my men is very ill with
some sort of fever. Under all the circumstances, I
cannot stop to nurse him myself, as otherwise I should
like to do, having, you remember, asked your kind
leave to shoot, and made arrangements to start at
dawn. Perhaps if you have time you will visit him and
give him some medicine; if you do not, I fear that he
must die.
R.L.
Summoning the recovered dragoman who was to be left behind to

see to the camels when they arrived, he bade him take this letter to
Zahed as soon as the shooting expedition had started in the
morning, and if he were questioned, to say that his comrade was
very sick, but that he did not know what was the matter with him.
“If only he would catch the plague!” muttered Dick to himself,
between his clenched teeth. “No one could blame me, and he might
—no, that would be too muck luck.”
Before daybreak, having been informed that the man was
apparently no worse, Dick rode away with his attendants.
Rupert duly received the letter, and about seven o’clock ordered
his mule, and started for the place where the man lay.
“Whither go you?” asked Mea, who met him.
Her voice was anxious, for she feared that he was about to visit
Edith.
“To see a sick man up yonder at Learmer’s house.”
“So! It was reported to me that he started at dawn to hunt buck for
some days on the mountain slopes. Why does he not doctor his own
sick, he who told me that he understands medicine?”
“I advised him to go out hunting, Mea, and afterwards to leave this
place.”
“I know. You struck him, did you not? A strange thing for you to do,
Rupert.”
“I am ashamed to say I did,” he answered. “That man is a low
fellow and a slanderer, Mea.”
“I know that also, but whom did he slander this time, the lady
yonder, or me? Nay, I will not ask, but I say to you, Rupert, beware of
a low fellow and a slanderer whom you have struck and who wished
to draw his pistol on you.”
“I can look after myself, I think,” he replied, with a laugh.
“Yes, Rupert, you can face a lion or an elephant, but you hold your
head too high to see a snake. Of what is this servant sick? I heard
that they had strange illness up there.”
“I don’t know; Nile fever, I suppose. Will tell you when I have seen
him.”
“You should eat before you visit a fever case; have you done so?”
“No; I am not afraid of fevers, and I can’t breakfast so early,” and
he made as though he would go on.
“One moment,” she said, laying her hand upon his bridle. “Why did
you not come to visit me last evening? As our hours together
perhaps may be few, I miss you.”
“I’ll tell you,” he answered, smiling. “I was engaged in making my
will, which took a lot of thinking though it is short enough. You see,
Mea, I am a very rich man now, and it so happens that under our law
I can leave my property as I desire, because the settlements are at
an end, which he from whom I inherited it could not do. Now, after
that trouble with Learmer I remembered that if I die, as we all may
do, he would probably take my lands and wealth, which I did not
wish. So as the lawyers in England wrote to me to do, I made a will,
signed and had it witnessed properly by four of our people who can
write, and gave it to Bakhita to keep for the present. Now, Mea, let
me go and see this man.”
“May I come with you?” she asked.
“Nay, how can I tell from what he suffers. I will be back presently.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
RENUNCIATION
Rupert went into the outbuilding where the sick man lay and
examined him. His eyes were bloodshot, his tongue was black, he
had glandular swellings, and his temperature was nearly 106.
Moreover, he was passing into a state of coma. He felt his pulse,
which was dropping, and shook his head. In his varied experience as
an amateur doctor he had never seen a case like this.
Leaving the man, Rupert went into the house to mix some quinine,
for he knew not what else to give him. On the table a book lay open
which he recognised as a medical work, and while he manipulated
the quinine and the water, his eye caught the heading at the top of
the page. It was “Plague.” That gave him an idea, and he read the
article. Certainly, the symptoms seemed very similar, especially the
bubonic swellings, but as personally he had never actually seen a
case of plague, he could not be sure. He called the servant in charge
of the house and questioned him, that same dragoman who had
recently been sick and recovered, but was still very weak. With a
little pressure he told Rupert all; how he had visited his relative who
was dying of the plague, and as he believed suffered from it himself,
like the other man in the hut. Now Rupert was quite sure, and set
about taking precautions, sending down to the town for guards to
form a cordon round the place, and so forth.
Meanwhile the patient became rapidly worse and he went in to
attend to him, staying there till about two hours later, when he died.
After seeing to the deep burial of the body, Rupert went to Edith’s
house on his way back to the town to warn them of what had
happened. Strolling about near it under her white umbrella he found

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Alabama The Making of an American

State 1st Edition Edwin C. Bridges

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THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA PRESS

Published in cooperation with the Alabama Bicentennial Commission

Staff of the Alabama Department of Archives and History

x ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

Why I have written the book: For more than three

xiv ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AM E R I C A N S TAT E

FIRST ARRIVAL IN ALABAMA

Archaeologists now generally agree that Asiatic people crossing

Mural of a funeral procession at Moundville about AD 1400. Located in present-

THE PALEO PERIOD (11,000 BC TO 8,000 BC)

Archaeologists refer to earliest settlers as Paleo (from the Greek

4 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

mammoths. North America was then home to many different

Excavation trench cut by archaeologists into the floor of Dust Cave

6 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

THE ARCHAIC PERIOD (8,000 BC TO 1,000 BC)

8 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

10 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

Top: Woodland-era projectile points.

12 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

around the world that historians refer to as the Agricultural Revolu-

14 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

16 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

Although the Mississippian culture suffered internal stresses before

18 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

REBUILDING (AD 1561 TO AD 1700)

20 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

THE FIRST ALABAMIANS 21

24 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

THE CREEKS AND THE

26 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

28 ALABAMA: T H E MA K I N G OF A N AME R I C A N S TAT E

THE CREEKS AND THE AMERICAN

Ironically, Britain’s success against the French in the Seven Years’

Dear Edith,—I will not debate the strange

P.S.—I enclose a letter which I have for you. He wrote

A desire to help another alone induces me to

Summoning the recovered dragoman who was to be left behind to

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