Yes, it was Osceola, "the Rising Sun" [Note 1]--he whose fame had
already reached to the farthest corner of the land--whose name had
excited such an interest among the cadets at college--outside the
college--in the streets--in the fashionable drawing-room--everywhere; he
it was who had thus unexpectedly shown himself in the circle of chiefs.
A word about this extraordinary young man.
Suddenly emerging from the condition of a common warrior--a sub-chief,
with scarcely any following--he had gained at once, and as if by magic,
the confidence of the nation. He was at this moment the hope of the
patriot party--the spirit that was animating them to resistance, and
every day saw his influence increasing. Scarcely more appropriate could
have been his native appellation.
One might have fancied him less indebted to accident than design for the
name, had it not been that which he had always borne among his own
people. There was a sort of prophetic or typical adaptation in it, for
at this time he was in reality the Rising Sun of the Seminoles. He was
so regarded by them.
I noticed that his arrival produced a marked effect upon the warriors.
He may have been present upon the ground all the day, but up to that
moment he had not shown himself in the front circle of the chiefs. The
timid and wavering became reassured by his appearance, and the
traitorous chiefs evidently cowered under his glance. I noticed that
the Omatlas, and even the fierce Lusta Hajo regarded him with uneasy
looks.
There were others besides the red men who were affected by his sudden
advent. From the position in which I stood, I had a view of the
commissioner's face; I noticed that his countenance suddenly paled, and
there passed over it a marked expression of chagrin. It was clear that
with him the "Rising Sun" was anything but welcome. His hurried words
to Clinch reached my ears--for I stood close to the general, and could
not help overhearing them.
"How unfortunate!" he muttered in a tone of vexation. "But for him, we
should have succeeded. I was in hopes of nailing them before he should
arrive. I told him a wrong hour, but it seems to no purpose. Deuce
take the fellow! he will undo all. See! he is earwigging Onopa, and the
old fool listens to him like a child. Bah!--he will obey him like a
great baby, as he is. It's all up, general; we must come to blows."
On hearing this half-whispered harangue, I turned my eyes once more upon
him who was the subject of it, and regarded him more attentively. He
was still standing behind the king, but in a stooping attitude, and
whispering in the ear of the latter--scarcely whispering, but speaking
audibly in their native language. Only the interpreters could have
understood what he was saying, and they were too distant to make it out.
His earnest tone, however--his firm yet somewhat excited manner--the
defiant flash of his eye, as he glanced toward the commissioner--all
told that he himself had no intention to yield; and that he was
counselling his superior to like bold opposition and resistance.
For some moments there was silence, broken only by the whisperings of
the commissioner on one side, and the muttered words passing between
Osceola and the mico on the other. After a while even these sounds were
hushed, and a breathless stillness succeeded.
It was a moment of intense expectation, and one of peculiar interest.
On the words which Onopa was about to utter, hung events of high
import--important to almost every one upon the ground. Peace or war,
and therefore life or death, was suspended over the heads of all
present. Even the soldiers in the lines were observed with outstretched
necks in the attitude of listening; and upon the other side, the Indian
boys, and the women with babes in their arms, clustered behind the
circle of warriors, their anxious looks betraying the interest they felt
in the issue.
The commissioner grew impatient; his face reddened again. I saw that he
was excited and angry--at the same time he was doing his utmost to
appear calm. As yet he had taken no notice of the presence of Osceola,
but was making pretence to ignore it, although it was evident that
Osceola was at that moment the main subject of his thoughts. He only
looked at the young chief by side-glances, now and again turning to
resume his conversation with the general.
This by-play was of short duration. Thompson could endure the suspense
no longer.
"Tell Onopa," said he to the interpreter, "that the council awaits his
answer."
The interpreter did as commanded.
"I have but one answer to make," replied the taciturn king, without
deigning to rise from his seat; "I am content with my present home; I am
not going to leave it."
A burst of applause from the patriots followed this declaration.
Perhaps these were the most popular words that old Onopa had ever
uttered. From that moment he was possessed of real kingly power, and
might command in his nation.
I looked round the circle of the chiefs. A smile lit up the gentlemanly
features of Holata Mico; the grim face of Hoitle-mattee gleamed with
joy: the "Alligator," "Cloud," and Arpiucki exhibited more frantic signs
of their delight; and even the thick lips of Abram were drawn flat over
his gums, displaying his double tier of ivories in a grin of triumphant
satisfaction.
On the other hand, the Omatlas and their party wore black looks. Their
gloomy glances betokened their discontent; and from their gestures and
attitudes, it was evident that one and all of them were suffering under
serious apprehension.
They had cause. They were no longer suspected, no longer traitors only
attainted; their treason was now patent--it had been declared.
It was fortunate for them that Fort King was so near--well that they
stood in the presence of that embattled line. They might need its
bayonets to protect them.
The commissioner had by this time lost command of his temper. Even
official dignity gave way, and he now descended to angry exclamations,
threats, and bitter invective.
In the last he was personal, calling the chiefs by name, and charging
them with faithlessness and falsehood. He accused Onopa of having
already signed the treaty of the Oclawaha; and when the latter denied
having done so, the commissioner told him he _lied_. [Again
historically true--the very word used!] Even the savage did not
reciprocate the vulgar accusation, but treated it with silent disdain.
After spending a portion of his spleen upon various chiefs of the
council, he turned towards the front and in a loud, angry tone cried
out: "It is _you_ who have done this--_you_, Powell!"
I started at the word. I looked to see who was addressed--who it was
that bore that well-known name.
The commissioner guided my glance both by look and gesture. He was
standing with arm outstretched, and finger pointed in menace. His eye
was bent upon the young war-chief--upon Osceola!
All at once a light broke upon me. Already strange memories had been
playing with my fancy; I thought that through the vermilion paint I saw
features I had seen before.
Now I recognised them. In the young Indian hero, I beheld the friend of
my boyhood--the preserver of my life--the brother of Maumee.
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Note 1. Osceola--written Oceola, Asseola, Assula, Hasseola, and in a
dozen other forms of orthography--in the Seminole language, signifies
the Rising Sun.