in the proper comportment for her newfound status: “You must recollect that you are now a Major Generals lady in the service of the U.S. and as such you must appear elegant and plain, not extravagant, but in such state as Strangers expect to see you.”
Shortly after his arrival in Mobile, however, Jackson’s spies told him that a British squadron had arrived at the port city of Pensacola on the Gulf of Mexico, about forty miles east. With not so much as a by-your-leave, the British commander, Colonel Edward Nicholls, escorted by a force of redcoats, had marched up to the quarters of the Spanish governor and informed him that the British would be using the city as a base of operations against the Americans. With an unctuous acquiescence from the Spanish
comandante,
the British raised their flag to equal height with that of the Spanish colors, and Colonel Nicholls got down to business. He installed his troops in several large Spanish fortifications and began recruiting an army of disaffected Indians—many of them leftovers from the Red Stick War—promising to reverse the Treaty of Fort Jackson and restore their lands, as well as, more materially, promising them firewater.* 32 They were to be armed with a shipload of twenty thousand weapons sent by Admiral Cochrane, then to speed southward for his rendezvous and the anticipated attack on New Orleans.
On August 29, Nicholls issued a windy “proclamation” and ordered it distributed to the “Natives of Louisiana” (by which he meant Frenchmen and Spaniards and their offspring, who comprised the majority of that state’s white population). This document called for them to “assist in liberating from a faithless, imbecile government [meaning the Madison administration] your paternal soil.” In case they chose to disagree, Nicholls went on to threaten them: “I am at the head of a large body of Indians, well armed, disciplined and commanded by British officers [and] a good train of artillery [as well as] numerous British and Spanish squadrons of ships and vessels of war,” and then concluded, “The American usurpation in this country must be abolished.”
That was enough for Jackson. After sending off a letter to the Spanish
comandante
at Pensacola, demanding to know the meaning of British troops in his district, and another to Governor Blount to hurry Tennessee troops down to Mobile—as well as one more canceling Rachel’s visit—Jackson set about reinforcing the shabbily built Fort Bowyer, the first British objective at the mouth of Mobile Bay and the key to the city. Having done so, he then began to calculate operations against Pensacola to rid that whole territory of both the British
and
the Spanish. Although he’d requested permission to do this back in June, Jackson had received no answer from the War Department, but now he was determined to charge ahead, permission granted or not. If war with Spain was the result, so be it—events were rapidly coming to a head, and Andrew Jackson was prepared to deal with them on his own.
On the night of September 12, Jackson sailed from Mobile to inspect the rehabilitation of Fort Bowyer, about thirty miles south on the gulf. Three hours later his schooner encountered a small sailboat, whose passenger had an urgent message for the general: Fort Bowyer had just come under siege by the British, with four warships bombarding from the sea and a party of 600 Indians and 130 British marines attacking by land. Quickly understanding the peril he was in, Jackson ordered his boat to come about for Mobile, where he dragooned a company of infantry and sent them rushing to the besieged outpost down the bay.
The next morning the relief force sailed back into Mobile Harbor with distressing news: Fort Bowyer had apparently exploded and been lost. The citizens of Mobile spent an anxious day and night, fearing the momentary arrival of the British to capture their city and turn them out of their homes. The following morning brighter
Shortly after his arrival in Mobile, however, Jackson’s spies told him that a British squadron had arrived at the port city of Pensacola on the Gulf of Mexico, about forty miles east. With not so much as a by-your-leave, the British commander, Colonel Edward Nicholls, escorted by a force of redcoats, had marched up to the quarters of the Spanish governor and informed him that the British would be using the city as a base of operations against the Americans. With an unctuous acquiescence from the Spanish
comandante,
the British raised their flag to equal height with that of the Spanish colors, and Colonel Nicholls got down to business. He installed his troops in several large Spanish fortifications and began recruiting an army of disaffected Indians—many of them leftovers from the Red Stick War—promising to reverse the Treaty of Fort Jackson and restore their lands, as well as, more materially, promising them firewater.* 32 They were to be armed with a shipload of twenty thousand weapons sent by Admiral Cochrane, then to speed southward for his rendezvous and the anticipated attack on New Orleans.
On August 29, Nicholls issued a windy “proclamation” and ordered it distributed to the “Natives of Louisiana” (by which he meant Frenchmen and Spaniards and their offspring, who comprised the majority of that state’s white population). This document called for them to “assist in liberating from a faithless, imbecile government [meaning the Madison administration] your paternal soil.” In case they chose to disagree, Nicholls went on to threaten them: “I am at the head of a large body of Indians, well armed, disciplined and commanded by British officers [and] a good train of artillery [as well as] numerous British and Spanish squadrons of ships and vessels of war,” and then concluded, “The American usurpation in this country must be abolished.”
That was enough for Jackson. After sending off a letter to the Spanish
comandante
at Pensacola, demanding to know the meaning of British troops in his district, and another to Governor Blount to hurry Tennessee troops down to Mobile—as well as one more canceling Rachel’s visit—Jackson set about reinforcing the shabbily built Fort Bowyer, the first British objective at the mouth of Mobile Bay and the key to the city. Having done so, he then began to calculate operations against Pensacola to rid that whole territory of both the British
and
the Spanish. Although he’d requested permission to do this back in June, Jackson had received no answer from the War Department, but now he was determined to charge ahead, permission granted or not. If war with Spain was the result, so be it—events were rapidly coming to a head, and Andrew Jackson was prepared to deal with them on his own.
On the night of September 12, Jackson sailed from Mobile to inspect the rehabilitation of Fort Bowyer, about thirty miles south on the gulf. Three hours later his schooner encountered a small sailboat, whose passenger had an urgent message for the general: Fort Bowyer had just come under siege by the British, with four warships bombarding from the sea and a party of 600 Indians and 130 British marines attacking by land. Quickly understanding the peril he was in, Jackson ordered his boat to come about for Mobile, where he dragooned a company of infantry and sent them rushing to the besieged outpost down the bay.
The next morning the relief force sailed back into Mobile Harbor with distressing news: Fort Bowyer had apparently exploded and been lost. The citizens of Mobile spent an anxious day and night, fearing the momentary arrival of the British to capture their city and turn them out of their homes. The following morning brighter
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