"We have taken up the rifle because you wronged us, and would drive us out. For the wrongs we have had revenge. We have killed many of your people, and we are satisfied with the vengeance we have taken. We want to kill no more. But about the removal, we have not changed our minds. We shall never change them.
"We have made you a fair proposition: accept it, and in this hour the war shall cease; reject it, and more blood shall be spilled — ay, by the spirit of Wykome! rivers of blood shall flow. The red poles of our lodges shall be painted again and again with the blood of our pale-faced foes. Peace or war, then — you are welcome to your choice."
As Osceola ceased speaking, he waved his hand towards his dusky warriors by the wood, who at the sign disappeared among the trees, silently, rapidly, almost mysteriously.
A meet reply was being delivered to the passionate harangue of the young chief, when the speaker was interrupted by the report of musketry, heard in the direction of the Indians, but further off. The shots followed each other in rapid succession, and were accompanied by shouts, that, though feebly borne from the far distance, could be distinguished as the charging cheers of men advancing into a battle.
"Ha! foul play!" cried the chiefs in a breath; "pale-faced liars! you shall rue this treason;" and, without waiting to exchange another sentence, all three sprang off from the spot, and ran at full speed towards the covert of the woods.
We turned back within the lines of the camp, where the shots had also been heard, and interpreted as the advance of Clinch’s brigade attacking the Indian outposts in the rear. We found the troops already mustered in battle-array, and preparing to issue forth from the stockade. In a few minutes, the order was given, and the army marched forth, extending itself rapidly both right and left along the bank of the river.
As soon as the formation was complete, the line advanced. The troops were burning for revenge. Cooped up as they had been for days, half-famished, and more than half disgraced, they had now an opportunity to retrieve their honour; and were fully bent upon the punishment of the savage foe. With an army in their rear, rapidly closing upon them by an extended line — for this had been pre-arranged between the commanders — another similarly advancing upon their front, how could the Indians escape? They must fight — they would be conquered at last.
This was the expectation of all — officers and soldiers. The commander-in-chief was himself in high spirits. His strategic plan had succeeded. The enemy was surrounded — entrapped; a great victory was before him — a "harvest of laurels."
We marched forward. We heard shots, but now only solitary or straggling. We could not hear the well-known war-cry of the Indians.
We continued to advance. The hommocks were carried by a charge, but in their shady coverts we found no enemy.
Surely they must still be before us — between our lines and those of the approaching reinforcement? Is it possible they can have retreated — escaped?
No! Yonder they are — on the other side of the meadow — just coming out from the trees. They are advancing to give us battle! Now for the charge — now -
Ha! those blue uniforms and white belts — those forage-caps and sabres — these are not Indians! It is not the enemy! They are our friends — the soldiers of Clinch’s brigade!
Fortunate it was that at that moment there was a mutual recognition, else might we have annihilated one another.
Chapter Seventy One
Mysterious Disappearance of an Army
The two divisions of the army now came together, and after a rapid council had been held between the commanders, continued scouring the field in search of our enemy. Hours were spent in the search; but not an Indian foe could be found!
Osceola had performed a piece of strategy unheard of in the annals of war. He had carried an army of 1,600 men from between two others of nearly equal numbers, who had completely enfiladed him, without leaving a man upon the ground — ay, without leaving a trace of his retreat. That host of Indian warriors, so lately observed in full battle-array, had all at once broken up into a thousand fragments, and, as if by magic, had melted out of sight.
The enemy was gone, we knew not whither; and the disappointed generals once more marched their forces back to Fort King.
The "dispersion," as it was termed, of the Indian army, was of course chronicled as another "victory." It was a victory, however, that killed poor old Gaines — at least his military fame — and he was only too glad to retire from the command he had been so eager to obtain.
A third general now took the field as commander-in-chief — an officer of more notoriety than either of his predecessors — Scott. A lucky wound received in the old British wars, seniority of rank, a good deal of political buffoonery, but above all a free translation of the French "system of tactics," with the assumption of being their author, had kept General Scott conspicuously before the American public for a period of twenty years (Note 1). He who could contrive such a system of military manoeuvring could not be otherwise than a great soldier; so reasoned his countrymen.
Of course wonderful things were expected from the new commander-in-chief, and great deeds were promised. He would deal with the savages in a different way from that adopted by his predecessors; he would soon put an end to the contemptible war.
There was much rejoicing at the appointment; and preparations were made for a campaign on a far more extensive scale than had fallen to the lot of either of the chiefs who preceded him. The army was doubled — almost trebled — the commissariat amply provided for, before the great general would consent to set foot upon the field.
He arrived at length, and the army was put in motion.
I am not going to detail the incidents of this campaign; there were none of sufficient importance to be chronicled, much less of sufficient interest to be narrated. It consisted simply of a series of harassing marches, conducted with all the pomp and regularity of a parade review. The army was formed into three divisions, somewhat bombastically styled "right wing," "left wing," and "centre." Thus formed, they were to approach the "Cove of the Ouithlacoochee" — again that fatal Cove — from three different directions, Fort King, Fort Brooke, and the Saint John’s. On arriving on the edge of the great swamp, each was to fire minute-guns as signals for the others, and then all three were to advance in converging lines towards the heart of the Seminole fastness.
The absurd manoeuvre was carried out, and ended as might have been expected, in complete failure. During the march, no man saw the face of a red Indian. A few of their camps were discovered, but nothing more. The cunning warriors had heard the signal guns, and well understood their significance. With such a hint of the position of their enemy, they had but little difficulty in making their retreat between the "wings."
Perhaps the most singular, if not the most important, incident occurring in Scott’s campaign was one which came very near costing me my life. If not worthy of being given in detail, it merits mention as a curious case of "abandonment."
While marching for the "Cove" with his centre wing, the idea occurred to our great commander to leave behind him, upon the banks of the Amazura, what he termed a "post of observation." This consisted of a detachment of forty men — mostly our Suwanee volunteers, with their proportion of officers, myself among the number.
We were ordered to fortify ourselves on the spot, and stay there until we should be relieved from our duty, which was somewhat indefinitely understood even by him who was placed in command of us. After giving these orders, the general, at the head of his "central wing," marched off, leaving us to our fate.