But, in the Spring, accompanied by a
considerable fleet of boats, the craft occupied by John Donelson and his
family floated down the winding stream more rapidly. Many misfortunes
befell them. Sometimes a boat would get aground and remain immovable
till its whole cargo was landed. Sometimes a boat was dashed against a
projecting point and sunk. One man died of his frozen feet; two children
were born. On board one boat, containing twenty-eight persons, the
small-pox raged. As this boat always sailed at a certain distance behind
the rest, it was attacked by Indians, who captured it, killed all the
men, and carried off the women and children. The Indians caught the
small-pox, of which some hundreds died in the course of the season.
But during this voyage, which lasted several months, no misfortune
befell the boat of Colonel Donelson; and he and his family, including
his daughter Rachel, arrived safely at the site of the present city of
Nashville, near which he selected his land, built his log house, and
established himself. Never has a settlement been so infested by hostile
Indians as this. When Rachel Donelson, with her sisters and young
friends, went blackberrying, a guard of young men, with their rifles
loaded and cocked, stood guard over the surrounding thickets while the
girls picked the fruit. It was not safe for a man to stoop over a spring
to drink unless some one else was on the watch with his rifle in his
arms; and when half a dozen men stood together, in conversation, they
turned their backs to each other, all facing different ways, to watch
for a lurking savage.
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