Another official report runs thus:
We approached the battle-field from the rear. Our advanced guard had passed the ground without halting when the commanding officer and his staff came upon one of the most appalling scenes that can be imagined. We first saw some broken and scattered boxes; then a cart, the two oxen of which were lying dead, as if they had fallen asleep, their yokes still on them: a little to the right, one or two horses were seen. We next came to a small inclosure, made by felling trees, in such a manner as to form a triangular breastwork. Within the triangle — along the north and west faces of it — were about thirty bodies, mostly mere skeletons, although much of the clothing was left upon them. They were lying in the positions they must have occupied during the fight. Some had fallen over their dead comrades, but most of them lay close to the logs, with their heads turned towards the breastwork, over which they had delivered their fire, and their bodies stretched with striking regularity parallel to each other. They had evidently been shot dead at their posts, and the Indians had not disturbed them, except by taking the scalps of some — which, it is said, was done by their negro allies. The officers were all easily recognised. Some still wore their rings and breastpins, and money was found in their pockets! The bodies of eight officers and ninety-eight men were interred.
"It may be proper to observe that the attack was not made from a hommock, but in a thinly-wooded country — the Indians being concealed by palmettoes and grass."
From this report, it appears that the Indians were fighting — not for plunder, not even from motives of diabolical revenge. Their motive was higher and purer — it was the defence of their country — of their hearths and homes.
The advantage they had over the troop of Major Dade was simply that of ambush and surprise. This officer, though a man of undoubted gallantry, was entirely wanting in those qualities necessary to a leader — especially one engaged against such a foe. He was a mere book-soldier — as most officers are — lacking the genius which enables the great military chieftain to adapt himself to the circumstances that surround him. He conducted the march of his detachment as if going upon parade; and by so doing he carried it into danger and subsequent destruction.
But if the commander of the whites in this fatal affair was lacking in military capacity, the leader of the Indians was not. It soon became known that he who planned the ambush and conducted it to such a sanguinary and successful issue, was the young chief of the Baton Rouge — Osceola.
He could not have stayed long upon the ground to enjoy his triumph. It was upon that same evening, at Fort King — forty miles distant from the scene of Dade’s massacre — that the commissioner fell before his vow of vengeance!
Chapter Sixty Seven
The Battle of "Ouithlacoochee."
The murder of the commissioner called for some act of prompt retribution. Immediately after its occurrence, several expresses had been dispatched by different routes to Camp Drane — some of whom fell into the hands of the enemy, while the rest arrived safely with the news.
By daybreak of the following morning the army, more than a thousand strong, was in motion; and marching towards the Amazura. The avowed object of this expedition was to strike a blow at the families of the hostile Indians — their fathers and mothers, their wives, sisters and children — whose lurking-place amidst the fastnesses of the great swamp — the "Cove" — had become known to the general. It was intended they should be captured, if possible, and held as hostages until the warriors could be induced to surrender.
With all others who could be spared from the fort, I was ordered to accompany the expedition, and accordingly joined it upon the march. From the talk I heard around me, I soon discovered the sentiment of the soldiery. They had but little thought of making captives. Exasperated by what had taken place at the fort — further exasperated by what they called "Dade’s massacre," I felt satisfied that they would not stay to take prisoners — old men or young men, women or children, all would alike be slain — no quarter would be given.
I was sick even at the prospect of such a wholesale carnage as was anticipated. Anticipated, I say, for all confidently believed it would take place. The hiding-place of these unfortunate families had become known — there were guides conducting us thither who knew the very spot — how could we fail to reach it?
An easy surprise was expected. Information had been received that the warriors, or most of them, were absent upon another and more distant expedition, and in a quarter where we could not possibly encounter them. We were to make a descent upon the nest in the absence of the eagles; and with this intent the army was conducted by silent and secret marches.
But the day before, our expedition would have appeared easy enough — a mere exciting frolic, without peril of any kind; but the news of Dade’s defeat had produced a magical effect upon the spirits of the soldiers, and whilst it exasperated, it had also cowed them. For the first time, they began to feel something like a respect for their foe, mingled perhaps with a little dread of him. The Indians, at least, knew how to kill.
This feeling increased as fresh messengers came in from the scene of Dade’s conflict, bringing new details of that sanguinary affair. It was not without some apprehension, then, that the soldier marched onwards, advancing into the heart of the enemy’s country; and even the reckless volunteer kept close in the ranks as he rode silently along.
About mid-day we reached the banks of the Amazura. The stream had to be crossed before the Cove could be reached, for the vast network of swamps and lagoons bearing this name extended from the opposite side.
A ford had been promised the general, but the guides were at fault — no crossing-place could be found. At the point where we reached it, the river ran past, broad, black, and deep — too deep to be waded even by our horses.
Were the guides playing traitor, and misleading us? It certainly began to assume that appearance; but no — it could not be. They were Indians, it is true, but well proved in their devotion to the whites. Besides, they were men compromised with the national party — doomed to death by their own people — our defeat would have been their ruin.
It was not treason, as shewn afterwards — they had simply been deceived by the trails, and had gone the wrong way.
It was fortunate for us they had done so! But for this mistake of the guides, the army of General Clinch might have been called upon to repeat on a larger scale the drama so lately enacted by Dade and his companions.
Had we reached the true crossing, some two miles further down, we should have entered an ambush of the enemy, skillfully arranged by that same leader who so well understood his forest tactics. The report of the warriors having gone on a distant expedition was a mere ruse, the prelude to a series of strategic manoeuvres devised by Osceola.
The Indians were at that moment where we should have been, but for the mistake of the guides. The ford was beset upon both sides by the foe — the warriors lying unseen like snakes among the grass, ready to spring forth the moment we should attempt the crossing. Fortunate it was for Clinch and his army that our guides possessed so little skill.
The general acted without this knowledge at the time — else, had he known the dangerous proximity, his behaviour might have been different. As it was, a halt was ordered; and, after some deliberation, it was determined we should cross the river at the point where the army had arrived.
Some old boats were found, "scows," with a number of Indian canoes. These would facilitate the transport of the infantry, while the mounted men could swim over upon their horses.
Rafts of logs were soon knocked together, and the passage of the stream commenced. The manoeuvre was executed with considerable adroitness, and in less than an hour one half of the command had crossed.