I saw not the speaker, who was completely hidden behind the thick
trellis of leaves. It was not necessary I should see him, to know who
addressed me; on hearing the voice I instantly recognised it. It was
Osceola who spoke.
I cannot describe my sensations at that moment, nor tell exactly how I
acted. My mind was in a chaos of confusion--surprise and fear mingling
alike in my emotions.
I remember facing once more towards my followers. I saw that they were
not all dead--some were still lying where they had fallen, doubled up,
or stretched out in various attitudes of death--motionless--beyond
doubt, lifeless. Some still moved, their cries for help showing that
life was not extinct.
To my joy, I observed several who had regained their feet, and were
running, or rather scrambling, rapidly away from the ground; and still
another few who had risen into half-erect attitudes, and were crawling
off upon their hands and knees.
These last were still being fired upon from the bushes; and as I stood
wavering, I saw one or two of them levelled along the grass by the fatal
bullets that rained thickly around me.
Among the wounded who lay at my feet, there was a young fellow whom I
knew. He appeared to be shot through both limbs, and could not move his
body from the spot. His appeal to me for help was the first thing that
aroused me from my indecision; I remembered that this young man had once
done me a service.
Almost mechanically, I bent down, grasped him around the waist, and
raising his body, commenced dragging him away.
With my burden I hurried back across the isthmus--as fast as my strength
would permit--nor did I stop till beyond the range of the Indian rifles.
Here I was met by a party of soldiers, sent to cover our retreat. In
their hands I left my disabled comrade, and hastened onward to deliver
my melancholy report to the commander-in-chief.
My tale needed no telling. Our movement had been watched, and our
discomfiture was already known throughout the whole army.
The general said not a word; and, without giving time for explanation,
ordered me to another part of the field.
All blamed his imprudence in having ordered such a desperate charge--
especially with so small a force. For myself, I had gained the credit
of a bold leader; but how I chanced to be the only one, who came back
unscathed out of that deadly fire, was a puzzle which at that moment I
did not choose to explain.
For an hour or more the fight continued to be carried on, in the shape
of a confused skirmish among swamps and trees, without either party
gaining any material advantage. Each held the position it had taken
up--though the Indians retained the freedom of the forest beyond. To
have retired from ours, would have been the ruin of the whole army;
since there was no other mode of retreat, but by recrossing the stream,
and that could only have been effected under the fire of the enemy.
And yet to hold our position appeared equally ruinous. We could effect
nothing by being thus brought to a stand-still, for we were actually
besieged upon the bank of the river. We had vainly endeavoured to force
the Indians from the bush. Having once failed, a second attempt to cut
our way through them would be a still more perilous emprise; and yet to
remain stationary had also its prospects of danger. With scanty
provisions, the troops had marched out of their cantonments. Their
rations were already exhausted--hunger stared the army in the face. Its
pangs were already felt, and every hour would render them more severe.
We began to believe that we were _besieged_; and such was virtually the
fact. Around us in a semi-circle swarmed the savages, each behind his
protecting tree--thus forming a defensive line equal in strength to a
fortified intrenchment. Such could not be forced, without the certainty
of great slaughter among our men.
We perceived, too, that the number of our enemies was hourly increasing.
A peculiar cry--which some of the old "Indian fighters" understood--
heard at intervals, betokened the arrival of fresh parties of the foe.
We felt the apprehension that we were being outnumbered, and might soon
be overpowered. A gloomy feeling was fast spreading itself through the
ranks.
During the skirmishes that had already occurred, we noticed that many of
the Indians were armed with fusils and muskets. A few were observed in
uniform, with military accoutrements! One--a conspicuous leader--was
still more singularly attired. From his shoulders was suspended a large
silken flag, after the fashion of a Spanish cloak of the times of the
_conquistadores_. Its stripes of alternate red and white, with the blue
starry field at the corner, were conspicuous. Every eye in the army
looked upon it, and recognised in the fantastic draping, thus tauntingly
displayed, the loved flag of our country.
These symbols were expressive. They did not puzzle us. Their presence
among our enemies was easily explained. The flag, the muskets and
fusils, the uniforms and equipments, were trophies from the battle-field
where Dade had fallen.
Though the troops regarded these objects with bitter indignation, their
anger was impotent: the hour for avenging the disastrous fate of their
comrades had not yet arrived.
It is not improbable we might have shared their destiny, had we remained
much longer upon the ground; but a plan of retreat offered, of which our
general was not loath to take advantage. It was the happy idea of a
volunteer officer--an old campaigner of the "Hickory" wars--versed in
the tactics of Indian fighting.
By his advice, a feint was made by the troops who had not yet crossed--
the volunteers. It was a pretended attempt to effect the passage of the
river at a point higher up stream. It was good strategy. Had such a
passage been possible, it would have brought the enemy between two
fires, and thus put an end to the "surround;" but a crossing was not
intended--only a ruse.
It had the effect designed; the Indians were deceived by it, and rushed
in a body up the bank to prevent the attempt at crossing. Our
beleaguered force took advantage of their temporary absence; and the
"regulars," making an adroit use of the time, succeeded in getting back
to the "safe side" of the river. The wily foe was too prudent to follow
us; and thus ended the "battle of the Ouithlacoochee."
In the hurried council that was held, there was no two opinions as to
what course of action we should pursue. The proposal to march back to
Fort King was received with a wonderful unanimity; and, with little loss
of time, we took the route, and arrived without farther molestation at
the fort.