Raising himself erect, he faced the commissioner; and, in a tone of
irony, asked the latter if he still desired him to sign.
"You have promised, Osceola."
"Then will I keep my promise."
As he spoke the words, he drew his long Spanish knife from its sheath,
and raising it aloft, struck the blade through the parchment till its
point was deep buried in the wood.
"That is my signature!" cried he, as he drew forth the steel. "See,
Omatla! it is through _your_ name. Beware, traitor! Undo what you have
done, or its blade may yet pass through your heart!"
"Oh! that is what he meant," cried the commissioner, rising in rage.
"Good. I was prepared for this insolence--this outrage. General
Clinch!--I appeal to you--your soldiers--seize upon him--arrest him!"
These broken speeches I heard amidst the confusion of voices. I heard
Clinch issue some hurried orders to an officer who stood near. I saw
half a dozen files separate from the ranks, and rush forward; I saw them
cluster around Osceola--who the next moment was in their grasp.
Not till several of the blue-coated soldiers were sent sprawling over
the ground; not till guns had been thrown aside, and a dozen strong men
had fixed their gripe upon him, did the young chief give over his
desperate struggles to escape; and then apparently yielding, he stood
rigid and immobile, as if his frame had been iron.
It was an unexpected _denouement_--alike unlooked for by either white
men or Indians. It was a violent proceeding, and altogether
unjustifiable. This was no court whose judge had the right to arrest
for contempt. It was a council, and even the insolence of an individual
could not be punished without the concurrence of both parties. General
Thompson had exceeded his duty--he had exercised a power arbitrary as
illegal.
The scene that followed was so confused as to defy description. The air
was rent with loud ejaculations; the shouts of men, the screams of the
women, the cries of children, the yells of the Indian warriors, fell
simultaneously upon the ear. There was no attempt at rescue--that would
have been impossible in the presence of so many troops--so many
traitors; but the patriot chiefs, as they hurried away from the ground,
gave out their wild `Yo-ho-ehee'--the gathering war-word of the Seminole
nation--that in every utterance promised retaliation and revenge.
The soldiers commenced dragging Osceola inside the fort.
"Tyrant!" cried he, fixing his eye upon the commissioner, "you have
triumphed by treachery; but fancy not that this is the end of it. You
may imprison Osceola--hang him, if you will--but think not that his
spirit will die. No; it will live, and cry aloud for vengeance. It
speaks! Hear ye yonder sounds? Know ye the `war-cry' of the Redsticks?
Mark it well; for it is not the last time it will ring in your ears.
_Ho--yo-ho-ehee! yo-ho-ehee_! Listen to it, tyrant! it is your
death-knell--it is your death-knell!"
While giving utterance to these wild threats, the young chief was drawn
through the gate, and hurried off to the guard-house within the
stockade.
As I followed amid the crowd, some one touched me on the arm, as if to
draw my attention. Turning, I beheld Haj-Ewa.
"To-night, by the we-wa," [spring, pond, water] said she, speaking so as
not to be heard by those around. "There will be shadows--more shadows
upon the water. Perhaps--"
I did not hear more; the crowd pressed us apart; and when I looked
again, the mad queen had moved away from the spot.