attempting to gather my people I had to spill blood midway in my path. I
had supposed that the Micanopy people had done all the mischief, and I
went with my warriors to meet the Governor with two. When I met the
Governor at Suwanee he seemed to be afraid; I shook hands with him. I
gathered all my people and found that none was missing, and that the
mischief had been done by others. The Governor had them put in prison. I
was told that if one man kills another we must not kill any other man in
his place, but find the person who committed the murder and kill him.
One of my people was killed and his murderer's bones are now white at
Tallahassee. Another one that had done us mischief was killed at
Alpaha. A black man living among the whites has killed one of my people
and I wish to know who is to give me redress. Will my big father answer?
When our law is allowed to operate, we are quick; but they say the black
man is subject to the laws of the white people; now I want to see if the
white people do as they say. We wish our big father to say whether he
will have the black man tried for the murder of one of our people. If he
will give him up to us, the sun shall not move before he has justice
done to him. We work for justice, as well as the white people do. I wish
my friend and father to answer. In answer we may receive a story, for
men going backwards and forwards have not carried straight talks.
"I agreed to send away all the black people who had no masters, and I
have done it; but still they are sending to me for negroes. When an
Indian has bought a black man they come and take him away again, so that
we have no money and no negroes, too. A white man sells us a negro and
then turns around and claims him again, and our father orders us to give
him up. There is a negro girl in Charleston that belongs to my
daughter--her name is Patience. I want her restored to me. She has a
husband here; she has a child about a year old. I want my big father to
cause them to be sent to me, to do as he compels me to do, when I have
just claims. If my father is a true friend, he will send me my property
by our agent, who has gone to Washington. I have been told by the
Governor that all runaway negroes must be given up, but that all those
taken in war, were good property to us; but they have taken away those
taken in war, and those we have raised from children. * * *
"Will my father listen now to the voice of his children? He told me we
were to receive two thousand dollars' worth of corn--where is it? We
have received scarcely any, not even half, according to our judgment, of
what was intended for us. If the Governor and the white people have done
justly in this we wish our big father to let us know. We were promised
presents for twenty-one years; we have received nothing but a few
promises. It seems that they have disappeared before they reached us, or
that our big father did not intend to give them to us. We were promised
money, but we have not received a cent for this year. What has become of
it? We wish our big father to ask the Governor. The white people say
that we owe them, which is not true. We did take some goods of an Indian
trader, Mr. Marsh, to whom the Governor had promised part of our money.
We took the goods because we were afraid we should never get what was
ours in any other way; they amounted to fifteen hundred dollars. We
understand that Mr. Bellamy has received from the Governor sixteen
hundred dollars; what is it for? The Indians do not owe him
anything,--he has lost no property by us,--we have taken none of his
cattle. If a tiger has killed one, it is charged to the Indians. If they
stray away and are lost for a time, it is charged to the Indians. He has
lost nothing by us; but my people have suffered loss from him. He has
taken all the Indians' hogs that he could lay his hands on. * * * He has
taken hogs--one hundred head--from one man. We can not think of giving
away sixteen hundred dollars for nothing. According to the white man's
laws, if a man takes that which does not belong to him, he has to return
it and pay for the damages. Will our great father see that this man
restores to us what he has unjustly taken from us, for we look to our
big father to fulfill his promises and give us the presents and money
that are due to us. We understand that Colonel Piles has received some
of the money that is due to us; he is a good man; when we were perishing
with hunger he gave us to eat and drink. He is entitled to what he has
received. It appears that the Seminoles who have done no mischief, have
to suffer, as well as the few that have been guilty--this does not
appear to be right to us. By stopping our money, the Governor has
prevented our paying just debts, the debts we owe to the licensed Indian
traders, who have trusted us under the expectation that we would pay
them when we received our money. Our father has put two agents to look
over us; our agent, Colonel Humphries, has not seen any of the money or
presents that belong to us. * * *
"I am getting to be very old, and I wish my bones to be here. I do not
wish to remove to any other land, according to what I told my father.
When great men say anything to each other, they should have good
memories. Why does Colonel White plague me so much about going over the
Mississippi? We hurt nothing on this land. I have told him so before."
V. THE TREATY OF PAYNE'S LANDING
One day when Osceola was at Fort King he was told that a great council
was to be held at Payne's Landing, about twenty miles from the fort. The
Indians' "white father" had sent special messengers to talk with the
Seminoles, and all the leading men of the nation were summoned to come
to hear his words.
Osceola knew that the message was about the Seminoles' leaving Florida.
He was bitterly opposed to that project. He knew that some of the old
chiefs were very easily influenced, and that the white men had a way of
getting them to make promises in council which they afterwards
regretted. He therefore wished that none of the Indians would attend the
council. Then no action could be taken.
He went around advising men not to go to Payne's Landing. But the white
men sent their messengers near and far, calling in the chiefs and head
men. Early in May the streams were full of canoes and the forest paths
were traveled by bands of Indians on their way to Payne's Landing.
Seeing this, Osceola decided to go to the council himself, and do what
he could there to prevent the chiefs from making any rash agreements.
Osceola was not a chief, but he was a recognized leader of the young
men, and as he sat in the council house, stern and alert, many a glance
was cast in his direction to see how he was impressed by the white man's
talk.
He listened to the interpreter eagerly and learned that the President
wished the Seminoles to give up the land that had been reserved for them
by the treaty of Camp Moultrie. In exchange they were to occupy a tract
of land of the same extent west of the Mississippi River in Arkansas
among the Creek Indians. A delegation of chiefs was to visit the country
and if "they" were satisfied with the country, the Seminoles were to be
transported to it in three divisions, one in 1833, one in 1834, and the
last in 1835. Something was said about the payment of annuities, about
the distribution of blankets and homespun frocks, and compensation for
cattle and slaves stolen by the whites. But the point that concerned
Osceola most of all was that the Seminoles were expected to leave
Florida and live among the Creeks west of the Mississippi! Still there
was no reason to be distressed about it, he thought, for it was to be
done only if the Florida Indians were willing to make the change, and he
knew that the Seminoles would never consent to leave Florida. With arms
folded across his breast and a calm eye he watched one chief after
another take the pen and make at the end of the treaty his mark or
signature.
A short time afterwards seven chiefs and the faithful negro interpreter,
Abraham, left for Arkansas to examine the new country. The delegation
returned in April, 1833.
Then the Indians asked, "When will the white men meet the red to hear
what they think about going towards the setting sun?"
"There will be no council," said the agent. "You promised to go if the
delegates liked the land. They like the land. Now you must go without
any more talk."
"No, no! We promised to go if we were suited with the land when they
told us about it!" exclaimed the Indians.
The agent repeated, "You gave your word to your white father that you
would go if the country pleased your chiefs. The chiefs were well
pleased." Then he added, "They met your white father's messengers on the
new land and pledged their faith that you would go. They promised for
you. They signed another treaty. You agreed to do as your chiefs wished.
Your chiefs have promised your white father. There is no help for it.
You must go."
When Osceola heard this he was in a rage. The white men had got the
chiefs away from their own people and induced them to make promises they
had no right to make. What right had Charley A. Mathla to promise for
him or to promise for Micanopy, the head chief of the nation?
Osceola was not the only indignant one. All the Indians were in a fury
with the government agents. They felt that they had been tricked, caught
by a phrase they did not understand. They believed that undue influence
had been brought to bear upon their chiefs. Had the delegates been
allowed to return to Florida to give their report, some Indians would
have heard it with favor, but all were angered because the chiefs had
been influenced to make an additional treaty at Fort Gibson without
consulting their people. But the Indians were usually as severe in their
judgment of their own race as in their condemnation of another and they
did not spare the chiefs who had signed the additional treaty. Men and
women alike held them in supreme contempt. They scolded, they ridiculed
till the men in self defense declared that they had not signed the
treaty, and gave so many reasons why the Seminoles should not go west
that the spirit against emigration was more positive than ever.
The faith of even those Indians who had striven to keep peace with the
United States was destroyed by the "Additional Treaty" and a general
feeling of ill will prevailed. The Indians refused to surrender negroes
claimed as slaves by the white people, and were so hostile that in 1834
General Jackson, then president of the United States, determined to
force them to leave if necessary. He had the treaties ratified by the
Senate, appointed a new Indian agent, and ordered that preparations for
the removal of the Indians should be pushed with all speed.
In October the new Indian agent called a council. This time Osceola went
about urging the Indians to attend and advising the chiefs about their
talks. In the council the slender, energetic, young warrior sat next to
the fat, inactive old chief, Micanopy. Osceola had no right to speak in
council, but there was no man there who had more influence. If Micanopy
wavered under the stern eye of the white man, he heard the voice of
Osceola in his ear and did the young man's bidding.
Micanopy denied signing the treaty of Payne's Landing. When shown his
mark he declared that he had not touched the pen, though he had been on
the point of doing so, "for," he said, "the treaty was to examine the
country and I believed that when the delegation returned, the report
would be unfavorable. It is a white man's treaty, and the white man did
not make the Indian understand it as he meant it." He finished by saying
that he had agreed to the treaty of Camp Moultrie and that by the terms
of that treaty southern Florida belonged to the Seminoles for twenty
years, scarcely half of which had passed.
Other chiefs spoke and said bitter things. The agent became angry and
threatened to withhold the annuity unless the Indians signed a paper
agreeing to leave without further trouble.
At this Osceola's eyes flashed fire; he sprang up like a tiger and
declared that he did not care if the Indians never received another
dollar of the white man's money; he and his warriors would never sign
away their liberty and land for gold. Then, drawing his knife from his
belt, he raised it high in the air and plunged it through document and
table, exclaiming, "The only treaty I will sign is with this!"
VI. HOSTILITIES
The new Indian agent, General Thompson, had marked Osceola as a man of
power. He thought it wise to make friends with him. So when Osceola went
to Fort King he was cordially received by the agent. Once on returning
from New York the latter brought Osceola a beautiful new rifle, which
was worth one hundred dollars. Osceola was pleased with the rifle and
pleased with this evidence of General Thompson's regard for him. But he
was not to be bought by gifts to forsake the cause of the Seminoles.
He saw that the white men were actually getting ready to move the
Indians; they were preparing transports at Tampa and making ready for
the sale of the Indians' cattle. Another council was called at Fort
King.
On the night before this council, Osceola spoke to a gathering of chiefs
who had met secretly in Micanopy's village. He told them that, whatever
happened in council, they must be prepared to resist force with force
should the white men attempt to compel the Indians to emigrate. They
must take advantage of every opportunity to buy powder and lead, to
increase their store of food and ammunition. He advised them to declare
in council their wish for peace, but to maintain firmly that they were
determined never to leave Florida.
[Illustration: ARREST OF OSCEOLA]
At the council the next day, Jumper acting as spokesman for the Indians
expressed these views. When he had finished, the agent arose and rebuked
the Indians for breaking their word. His charge of dishonor excited the
Indians and many lost their tempers. In the confusion that followed,
General Clinch threatened to order in the soldiers if the Indians did
not sign the compact to leave Florida, without further parley. This
threat proved to be effectual. Several chiefs signed, but three of the
leading chiefs refused to do so. For punishment General Thompson ordered
that their names should be stricken from the list of chiefs. This
enraged the Indians and the agent realized that he had lost more than he
had gained by the council. He sent word to Washington that the Indians
were in no mood to leave Florida and that there would be bloodshed if an
attempt was made to enforce the treaty of Payne's Landing. Accordingly,
the date for embarking was changed to a more distant date.
Osceola made good use of the delay in adding to his war supplies; but
one day he was refused powder. This indignity surprised and offended
him. A refusal to give an Indian firearms or powder was evidence of
distrust, and Osceola was used to respectful usage. "Am I a negro, a
slave?" he exclaimed. "My skin is dark, but not black. I am a red man, a
Seminole. The white man shall not treat me as if I were black. I will
make the white man red with blood and then let him grow black in the sun
and rain." His language became so violent that General Thompson ordered
him put in irons and cast into prison.
Alone in the dark, Osceola ceased to rave. Thoughts of a terrible
vengeance soothed him. He planned it all carefully. After several days
had passed he seemed repentant. He asked to see General Thompson and
said he had spoken in anger. He expressed his friendship for the agent
and his willingness to assist in persuading the Indians to live up to
their treaty.
After he was liberated Osceola seemed as good as his word. His manner at
the Fort changed. He even brought in two or three sub-chiefs to sign the
treaty. The agent was completely deceived and believed he had gained a
powerful ally.
When the Indians learned that Osceola had been put in irons they felt
his wrong as their own and wished to visit the agent with swift
punishment. But Osceola looked at the place on his wrist where the
fetters had been and said: "That is my affair. Leave General Thompson to
me. Your part is to see that no Indian leaves Florida."
Almost daily something happened to show both Indians and white men that
they could no longer live together in peace. One evening while a little
company of Indians was camping in a hammock cooking supper, a party of
white men came upon them, seized their rifles, examined their camping
equipment and then fell to beating them. While they were occupied in
this way some friends of the campers came up and seeing the plight of
their comrades opened fire on the white men. The latter returned the
fire and killed an Indian.
While the Indians blamed the white men for this affair the white men
held the Indians responsible for it. They ordered out the militia to
protect the citizens and punish the Indians. Both parties believed that
the time had come for definite action. By definite action the white men
meant the transportation of the Seminoles, the Indians meant war. The
former pushed forward preparations at Tampa, and issued a summons to all
Indians to come in, sell their cattle and pledge themselves to assemble
on the first of January 1836 for their journey. The latter held a
council and decided that while the Indians promised to assemble at the
beginning of the year it should be for war rather than emigration. They
further agreed that the first Indian to sell his cattle and prepare in
good faith to go should be punished with death.
As might be inferred from this decision, there were some Seminoles whose
loyalty to their race could not be counted on. A chief, Charley A.
Mathla, who had been one of the delegates to visit Arkansas, was one of
these. As he was known to be on good terms with the white people,
Osceola ordered that he should be closely watched. He soon learned that
there was only too much ground for his suspicion. Charley was getting
ready to leave; he had driven his cattle to Tampa and sold them to the
white people. If he were allowed to go unpunished other wavering ones
would soon follow his example. Osceola wished his warriors to know from
the start that punishment for disobedience to him would be more swift
and terrible than anything they need fear for disobeying the white man.
With a few faithful followers he hastened through the wilderness towards
the village of Charley A. Mathla. There scouts brought him word that
Chief Charley was on his way home from Tampa. The war party hid among
the trees where the trail to the village passed through a hammock. They
had not waited long before the chief came swiftly along the path.
Osceola rose and fired. His comrades followed his example. Charley A.
Mathla fell forward on the path without a word, dead.
One of the party seized a handkerchief that the dead chief grasped in
his hand and showed Osceola that it was full of money. Osceola took the
offered treasure and cast the glittering coins far from him. The Indians
watched them disappear among the green leaves with surprise and regret.
But their leader said, "Do not touch his gold; it was bought with the
red man's blood."
VII. THE WAR OPENED
In a short time news of the murder of Charley A. Mathla reached Fort
King. With it came a rumor that the Indians were holding councils of war
in the villages of the Big Swamp. But it was impossible for the agent to
get definite information, as the woods were full of hostile Indian
scouts. The runners who were on friendly terms with the men at the fort
feared to venture beyond the protection of its guns lest they should
suffer the fate of Charley A. Mathla.
After the shooting, Osceola and his followers repaired to the fastnesses
of Wahoo Swamp, where for some time Indians had been assembling from
exposed villages. Here were collected vast stores of ammunition and food
supplies, herds of cattle, women and children and old men, both red and
black, and many warriors of the two races.
Osceola was now recognized as a war chief. In council no one was
listened to more eagerly than he. While addressing the assembled
warriors he said: "Remember, it is not upon women and children that we
make war and draw the scalping knife. It is upon men. Let us act like
men. Do not touch the money of the white man or his clothes. We do not
fight for these things. The Seminole is fighting for his hunting
grounds."
Definite plans were made for opening the war at once. Negroes living in
the neighborhood of Fort Brooke near Tampa had brought word that Major
E. L. Dade was to conduct reenforcements from Fort Brooke to Fort King.
The detachment would pass on its march within a short distance of Wahoo
Swamp and might easily be surprised and overpowered. Plans were formed
for such an attack. Several days would probably pass, however, before
Major Dade's force, encumbered with cannon and marching through marshes,
would reach the point best suited for the Indians' attack.
In the meantime Osceola must make a visit to Fort King. There was a
white man there whose scalp he had sworn should be the first one taken
in the war. With a small band of warriors he started on his errand of
vengeance.
Osceola knew General Thompson's habits. He was accustomed to take a walk
after dinner while he smoked a cigar. Frequently he walked some distance
from the fort, going out towards the sutler's house, where he sometimes
had business. Osceola determined to wait for him in that vicinity.
He and his comrades lay closely concealed, and watched without ceasing.
But for several days the weather was unpleasant and the agent did not go
beyond the fort. Still the Indians waited. At last a fine day dawned,
and shortly after noon Osceola saw from his hiding place two men
approaching the sutler's house. From afar he knew that one was General
Thompson. He crept closer to the path; his friends followed; all were
silent as serpents. The unsuspecting men came nearer, laughing and
talking in easy security. Rising on one knee, Osceola took steady aim
and fired. Instantly other shots rang through the still air and the two
men lay dead on the earth.
[Illustration: INDIAN DEPREDATIONS]
The Indians quickly scalped their victims. Then they hurried to the
sutler's house, where they found several men at dinner; they surrounded
the house and shot and scalped its inmates. When this was done they set
fire to the house and took their leave with an exultant war whoop. No
one pursued them; those who heard the shots and the war whoop, and saw
the flaming house supposed a large war party had come to attack the
place, and were afraid to investigate.
The Indians meanwhile left the neighborhood with all speed. They had
stayed longer than they had intended and they were anxious to reach the
swamp in time to share in the attack on Major Dade and his men. They set
off through the forest, a grim and terrible company, smeared with war
paint and stained with human blood. Their knives and tomahawks were red;
fresh scalps dangled from their belts or swung from poles carried over
their shoulders. At the head of the company strode Osceola. On his head
he wore a red and blue kerchief twisted to form a turban, from whose
center waved three splendid ostrich plumes.
Darkness fell before the company reached the swamp, but as they drew
near to its outskirts they saw the luminous smoke of camp fires over the
trees and heard faint yells. This told them they had come too late for
the struggle, but in time to celebrate the victory. They were greeted by
the revelers with wild shouts of delight. All joined in a hideous dance
about a pole on which were fastened the scalps that had been taken that
day.
From the old chief, Micanopy, and his sub-chiefs, Jumper and Alligator,
Osceola learned the details of that day's action. About two hundred
warriors had taken their station in the outskirts of the swamp to await
the coming of Major Dade and his one hundred and ten soldiers. They sent
out scouts who brought them exact information concerning Dade's route
and all his movements. They knew the information to be reliable, for
they obtained it from Dade's guide, Louis, a slave, who was in sympathy
with the Indians and Maroons. On the third day of their march the troops
reached the point the Indians had decided upon as best adapted to their
purpose. But neither Micanopy nor Osceola was present and many were
unwilling to act without them. Some young warriors set out for
Micanopy's camp and forced him to come with them to the scene of action.
Even then he advised delay and it took all Jumper's eloquence to induce
the old man to give the command for attack on the following morning.
Meanwhile Dade's men spent a good night in their camp, little dreaming
how near to them was the enemy. On the morning of the twenty-eighth of
December they resumed their march in good spirits.
The Indians had left the swamp and hidden themselves in a pine barren,
near which the roadway wound. On one side was a deep swamp; on the
other, a thin pine forest with a swamp beyond it. They found hiding
places behind trees or on the ground sheltered by the saw palmetto and
brush.