Chapter 1087: The Indians' Faith
The Southern United States.
Georgia.
Baxley, a small town on the southern bank of the Altamaha River.
More than five hundred warriors of the Cherokee tribe watched as the American militia set up several cannons on the opposite bank. Their expressions were filled with agony and dread.
The chieftain, Chinnabie Hassay, rode his horse along the defensive line. Unlike the start of previous wars, he did not loudly encourage his warriors. Instead, he kept his face grim, head bowed in silence.
He knew all too well that the American forces across the river numbered at least eight hundred. They were all equipped with flintlock muskets and even possessed three cannons.
He had led his tribe in resistance for nearly two months, suffering heavy casualties, yet he still could not halt the march of the American invasion.
At the moment, his warriors had only about a hundred flintlock muskets, and their ammunition did not exceed a thousand rounds.
They were not afraid to die, but relying on bows and spears made it impossible to repel the American army before them.
Once the Americans crossed the Altamaha River, they would have no choice but to wait for death in those towns—for they had lost all their territory, and fleeing would only lead to starvation.
"Why not give it a try?" a low, raspy voice came from beside him. "You shall surely find redemption."
Hassay did not need to turn his head to know it was Bull Horn, the High Priest of the Creek tribe.
Bull Horn had come to the Cherokee tribe six months ago to preach. It was a form of Catholicism quite different from what the British or Spanish taught.
However, Bull Horn's teachings did not conflict with the tribe's legends and even acknowledged the spiritual nature of the tribal totems. Thus, the tribe's Great Shaman had allowed him to proceed.
And at this perilous moment, this man was actually suggesting the Cherokee tribe perform a collective prayer!
The Cherokee would pray to their ancestors when preparing for war, but they all knew that victory depended on courage and the weapons in their hands. No one did such a thing right as the battle was about to begin.
Furthermore, hardly any of the Cherokee actually believed in Bull Horn's Catholicism.
Bull Horn did not give up. He pointed toward the towns behind them. "You know you are no match for those Americans. Look at your people. Will you let them die rather than try this?"
Seeing that the chieftain was ignoring him, the priest had no choice but to dismount. He waved to the tribal warriors and shouted, "Please, believe me! The Lord will protect you! It was prophesied in the Gospel. As long as everyone prays devoutly with me!"
With that, he knelt and began to make the sign of the cross over his chest. "Our Lord Jesus, I beg You to incline Your ear and hear me, for I am poor and helpless..."
The Cherokee were taken aback by his earnestness. They looked at each other, and a few warriors who had received baptism bowed their heads and followed suit, crossing themselves. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
A spiritual atmosphere began to spread. Those who had not been baptized also began to cross themselves, crying out, "Ancestors, protect us!"
"May the Spirit of the Buffalo grant us strength..."
Bull Horn did not correct them. According to The Indian Gospel, the totems of the various tribes were also sacred beasts chosen by God. Praying to them was equivalent to praying to the Lord.
As the chaotic sounds of prayer grew louder, Hassay frowned slightly. Recalling Bull Horn's words, he sighed and followed along, making the sign of the cross on his chest.
'What if it actually works?'
'After all, there's nothing to lose by trying...'
On the northern bank of the Altamaha River, the French diplomat, Baron Lesseps, checked his pocket watch and gestured to his attendant. "François, it is about time. If we wait any longer, the Americans will launch their assault."
"Yes, Monsieur."
The attendant immediately raised his whip and galloped toward the American command post.
Ten minutes later, escorted by several American cavalrymen, Lesseps arrived before the American commander, Major Christie.
Lesseps handed his identity card to a nearby staff officer and then bowed slightly to Christie. "I apologize for disturbing your work, esteemed Major. Oh, Mr. Taylor Kerman was supposed to accompany me, but he was delayed by some matters."
The Major knew Kerman was a state diplomat. He scanned the documents issued by the French government and frowned. "Is there something you need? A battle is underway here, and bullets have no eyes. Perhaps you could wait until after the fighting concludes..."
"No, no, that would be too late," Lesseps said hurriedly. "On behalf of the Governor of Saint-Louisiane, I demand that you immediately cease damaging my country's property!"
Major Christie looked at him in surprise. "What property are you referring to?"
Lesseps placed several sheets of paper on the wooden table before him and pointed across the river. "The town of Baxley, as well as all the towns of the Cherokee tribe, are collateral for the Bank of Saint-Louisiane."
Christie's expression went blank.
He grabbed the papers and saw they were loan agreements. The lender was a French bank, and the borrower was the Cherokee tribe. The amount was 180,000 francs, with the collateral being the tax revenue of Baxley and three other towns for the next fifteen years.
He quickly flipped to the next page. It was a loan agreement for 130,000 francs, with the collateral being the Cherokee tribe's leather harvests for the coming years.
There were seven or eight loan agreements in total, with a total sum of at least 1.5 million francs.
The American commander's brow furrowed. The Cherokee tribe had essentially mortgaged their entire nation to borrow a vast sum of money.
He set the agreements down and shook his head at the Frenchman. "I am sorry, but this has nothing to do with me. Now, please step aside. I am about to begin the attack."
Lesseps' tone became extremely firm. "If you persist, the Governor will be forced to dispatch troops to safeguard our national interests!"
Christie was momentarily stunned.
France had only possessed the Saint-Louisiane colony for about six months and did not have an overwhelming military presence, but they still had over a thousand soldiers. Moreover, they represented France; if a true conflict occurred, he would be the one mired in a diplomatic nightmare.
He took a deep breath. "What exactly do you want? I must state clearly that it is impossible for me to abandon the offensive."
Lesseps offered a smile. "Actually, I have discussed this with Mr. Kerman. Your orders from the federal government are to occupy Cherokee territory and, if necessary, eliminate them."
"My goal, however, is to recover the loans. You see, I must at least take the debtors away. If there is truly no other way, I can recover some losses by selling them into slavery."
"Did you bring an army?"
Lesseps shook his head. "No."
"Then how do you intend to take them?"
"I will demand that they honor their agreement."
Major Christie rubbed his forehead. "Fine. You may try. I will postpone the attack until noon tomorrow."
"No, no, at least until this weekend," Lesseps countered. "The towns are also collateral for the bank. I must allow their debt collectors to go in and see what valuables can be hauled away."
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