Oh, people, you have to check this shit out. But here’s the long story short. So, our friend (and Timothy Demonbreun’s!), Joseph Deraque had been living in Nashville for about six months when he got a job rowing Mr. Fagot to New Orleans. While in New Orleans, Fagot tells the Spanish governor that the United States is getting ready to attack Spain. The governor’s all “WTF, Joe?” and Joe’s all “I didn’t hear them say anything about it, but I don’t want to impugn Fagot’s honor, because his descendants will go on to have enormous influence with the Juggaloes, a group that terrifies me, even though I will be long dead before they exist.”
So the Spanish governor’s all “You and Finnelson go tell all the Indians that Spain will arm them if they fight the assholes at Nashville.”
Joe’s all “Okay.” But Joe’s really trying to suss out whether the Indians will attack Nashville just because Spain wants them to and, yes, for the most part they will. But they’re going to lie to Governor Blount about it. So Joe and Finnelson totally narc them out and then go back to New Orleans where Fagot can’t pay them because he hasn’t sold his goods, even though he promised them a butt-ton of money.
And then the Indians do attack. But why did Fagot try to start a war between Spain and the U.S.? Governor Blount’s all “Tim says maybe he’s trying to get in good with the governor because he owes so much money to Spanish interests that, if he doesn’t sell some folks out, he’s getting arrested.” And thus people die.
And what did they find among the dead Indians at Buchanan’s station? “A fine Spanish blade.”
Nice going Fagot. Nice going, Spain. I will no longer eat delicious Spanish food while drinking Red Pop. You just ruined that for me.