There were several reasons why the treaty of the Oclawaha could not be
considered binding on the Seminole nation. First, it was not signed by
a majority of the chiefs. Sixteen chiefs and sub-chiefs appended their
names to it. There were five times this number in the nation.
Second, it was, after all, no treaty, but a mere conditional contract--
the conditions being that a deputation of Seminoles should first proceed
to the lands allotted in the west (upon White River), examine these
lands, and bring back a report to their people. The very nature of this
condition proves that no contract for removal could have been completed,
until the exploration had been first accomplished.
The examination was made. Seven chiefs, accompanied by an agent,
journeyed to the far west, and made a survey of the lands.
Now, mark the craft of the commissioner! These seven chiefs are nearly
all taken from those friendly to the removal. We find among them both
the Omatlas, and Black Clay. True, there is Hoitle-mattee (jumper), a
patriot, but this brave warrior is stricken with the Indian curse--he
loves the fire-water; and his propensity is well-known to Phagan, the
agent, who accompanies them.
A _ruse_ is contemplated, and is put in practice. The deputation is
hospitably entertained at Fort Gibson, on the Arkansas. Hoitle-mattee
is made merry--the contract for removal is spread before the seven
chiefs--they all sign it: and the juggle is complete.
But even this was no fulfilment of the terms of the Oclawaha covenant.
The deputation was to return with their report, and ask the will of the
nation. That was yet to be given; and, in order to obtain it, a new
council of all the chiefs and warriors must be summoned.
It was to be a mere formality. It was well-known that the nation as a
body disapproved of the facile conduct of the seven chiefs, and would
not endorse it. They were not going to "move."
This was the more evident, since other conditions of the treaty were
daily broken. One of these was the restoration of runaway slaves, which
the signers of the Oclawaha treaty had promised to send back to their
owner. No blacks were sent back; on the contrary, they now found refuge
among the Indians more secure than ever.
The commissioner knew all this. He was calling the new council out of
mere formality. Perhaps he might persuade them to sign--if not, he
intended to awe them into the measure, or force them at the point of the
bayonet. He had said as much. Troops were concentrating at the
agency--Fort King--and others were daily arriving at Tampa Bay. The
government had taken its measures; and coercion was resolved upon.
I was not ignorant of what was going on, nor of all that had happened
during my long years of absence. My comrades, the cadets, were well
versed in Indian affairs, and took a lively interest in them--especially
those who expected soon to escape from the college walls. "Black Hawk's
war," just terminated in the west, had already given some a chance of
service and distinction, and young ambition was now bending its eyes
upon Florida.
The idea, however, of obtaining glory in such a war was ridiculed by
all. "It would be too easy a war--the foe was not worth considering. A
mere handful of savages," asserted they; "scarcely enough of them to
stand before a single company. They would be either killed or captured
in the first skirmish, one and all of them--there was not the slightest
chance of their making any protracted resistance--_unfortunately_, there
was not."
Such was the belief of my college companions; and, indeed, the common
belief of the whole country, at that time. The army, too, shared it.
One officer was heard to boast that he could march through the whole
Indian territory with only a corporal's guard at his back; and another,
with like bravado, wished that the government would give him a charter
of the war, on his own account. He would finish it for 10,000 dollars!
These only expressed the sentiments of the day. No one believed that
the Indians would or could sustain a conflict with us for any length of
time; indeed, there were few who could be brought to think that they
would resist at all: they were only holding out for better terms, and
would yield before coming to blows.
For my part, I thought otherwise. I knew the Seminoles better than most
of those who talked--I knew their country better; and, notwithstanding
the odds against them--the apparent hopelessness of the struggle--I had
my belief that they would neither yield to disgraceful terms, nor yet be
so easily conquered. Still, it was but a conjecture; and I might be
wrong. I might be deserving the ridicule which my opposition to the
belief of my comrades often brought upon me.
The newspapers made us acquainted with every circumstance. Letters,
too, were constantly received at the "Point" from old graduates now
serving in Florida. Every detail reached us, and we had become
acquainted with the names of many of the Indian chieftains, as well as
the internal _politique_ of the tribe. It appeared they were not
united. There was a party in favour of yielding to the demands of our
government, headed by one _Omatla_. This was the traitor party, and a
minority. The patriots were more numerous, including the head "mico"
himself, and the powerful chiefs Holata, _Coa hajo_, and the negro
Abram.
Among the patriots there was one name that, upon the wings of rumour,
began to take precedence of all others. It appeared frequently in the
daily prints, and in the letters of our friends. It was that of a young
warrior, or sub-chief, as he was styled, who by some means or other had
gained a remarkable ascendency in the tribe. He was one of the most
violent opponents of the "removal;" in fact, the leading spirit that
opposed it; and chiefs much older and more powerful were swayed by his
counsel.
We cadets much admired this young man. He was described as possessing
all the attributes of a hero--of noble aspect, bold, handsome,
intelligent. Both his physical and intellectual qualities were spoken
of in terms of praise--almost approaching to hyperbole. His form was
that of an Apollo, his features Adonis or Endymion. He was first in
everything--the best shot in his nation, the most expert swimmer and
rider--the swiftest runner, and most successful hunter--alike eminent in
peace or war--in short, a Cyrus.
There were Xenophons enough to record his fame. The people of the
United States had been long at peace with the red men. The romantic
savage was far away from their borders. It was rare to see an Indian
within the settlements, or hear aught of them. There had been no late
deputations from the tribes to gratify the eyes of gazing citizens; and
a real curiosity had grown up in regard to these children of the forest.
An Indian hero was wanted, and this young chief appeared to be the man.
His name was Osceola.