I had expected the man. The cry "Mulato-mico," and afterwards his
voice--still well remembered--had warned me of his coming. I expected
to gaze upon him with dread; strange it may seem, but such was not the
case. On the contrary, I beheld him, with a feeling akin to joy. Joy
at the sight of _those three blade plumes_ that nodded above his
scowling temples.
For a moment I marked not his angry frowns, nor the wicked triumph that
sparkled in his eye. The ostrich feathers were alone the objects of my
regard--the cynosure of my thoughts. Their presence upon the crest of
the "mulatto king" elucidated a world of mystery--foul suspicion was
plucked from out my bosom--the preserver of my life--the hero of my
heart's admiration was still true--Osceola was true!
In the momentary exultation of this thought, I almost forgot the gloom
of my situation; but soon the voice of the mulatto once more roused me
to a consciousness of its peril.
"_Carajo_!" cried he, in a tone of malignant triumph. "_Al fin
venganza_! (At last vengeance!)--Both, too, white and black--master and
slave--my young tyrant and my rival! ha! ha! ha!
"Me tie to tree," continued he, after a burst of hoarse laughter. "Me
burn, eh? burn 'live? Your turn come now--trees plenty here; but no, me
teach you better plan. _Corrambo, si_! far better plan. Tie to tree,
captive sometime 'scape, ha! ha! ha! Before burn, me show you sight.
Ho, there!" he shouted, motioning to some of the bystanders to come
near. "Untie hands--raise 'em up--both faces turn to camp--_basta_!
_basta_! that do. Now white rascal--Black rascal look!--what see
yonder?"
As he issued these orders, several of his creatures pulled up the stakes
that had picketed down our arms, and raised us into a sitting posture,
our bodies slewed round, till our faces bore full upon the camp. It was
broad daylight--the sun shining brightly in the heavens. Under such a
light every object in the camp was distinctly visible--the tents--the
horses--the motley crowd of human occupants. We regarded not these. On
two forms alone our eyes rested--they were my sister and Viola.
They were close together, as I had seen them once before--Viola seated
with her head drooping, while that of Virginia rested in her lap. The
hair of both was hanging in dishevelled masses--the black tresses of the
maid mingling with the golden locks of her mistress. They were
surrounded by guards, and appeared unconscious of our presence. But one
was dispatched to warn them.
As the messenger reached them, we saw them both start, and look
inquiringly abroad. In another instant their eyes were upon us. A
thrilling scream announced that we were recognised. They cried out
together. I heard my sister's voice pronouncing my name. I called to
her in return. I saw her spring to her feet, toss her arms wildly above
her head, and attempt to rush towards me. I saw the guards taking hold
of her, and rudely dragging her back. Oh, it was a painful sight! death
itself could not have been so hard to endure. But we were allowed to
look upon them no longer. Suddenly jerked upon our backs, our wrists
were once more staked down, and we lay in our former recumbent
attitudes.
Painful as were our reflections, we were not allowed to indulge in them
alone. The monster continued to stand over us, taunting us with
spiteful words, and, worse than all, gross allusions to my sister and
Viola. Oh, it was horrible to bear! Molten lead poured into our ears
could scarce have tortured us more.
It was almost a relief when he desisted from speech, and we saw him
commence making preparations for our torture. We knew that the hour was
nigh; for he had himself said so, as he issued the orders to his
fellows. Some horrible mode of death had been promised, but what it was
we were yet in ignorance.
Not long did we remain so. Several men were seen approaching the spot,
with spades and pickaxes in their hands. They were negroes--old
field-hands--and knew how to use such implements.
They stopped near us, and commenced digging the ground. O God! were we
to be buried alive?
This was the conjecture that first suggested itself. If true, it was
terrible enough; but it was not true. We were designed to undergo a
still more horrible fate!
Silently, and with the solemn air of grave-diggers, the men worked on.
The mulatto stood over directing them. He was in high glee,
occasionally calling to us in mockery, and boasting how skillfully he
should perform the office of executioner.
The women and savage warriors clustered around, laughing at his sallies,
or contributing their quota of grotesque wit, at which they uttered
yells of demoniac laughter. We might easily have fancied ourselves in
the infernal regions, in the middle of a crowd of jibbering fiends, who
stood grinning down upon us, as if they drew delight from our anguish.
We noticed that few of the men were Seminoles. Indians there were; but
these were of dark complexion, nearly black. They were of the tribe of
Yamassees--a race conquered by the Seminoles, and partially engrafted
into their nation. But most of those we saw were black negroes,
samboes, and mulattoes, descendants of Spanish maroons, or "runaways"
from the American plantations. There were many of the latter; for I
could hear English spoken among them. No doubt there were some of my
own slaves mixing with the motley crew, though none of them came near,
and I could only note the faces of those who stood over me.
In about half an hour the diggers had finished their work. Our stakes
were drawn, and we were dragged forwards to the spot where they had been
engaged.
As soon as I was raised up, I bent my eyes upon the camp; but my sister
was no longer there. Viola, too, was gone. They had been taken either
inside the tents or back among the bushes.
I was glad they were not there: they would be spared this pang of a
horrid spectacle; though it was not likely that from any such motive the
monster had removed them.
Two dark holes yawned before us, deeply dug into the earth. They were
not graves; or if so, it was not intended our bodies should be placed
vertically in them.
If their shape was peculiar, so too was the purpose for which they were
made.
We were soon to become acquainted with it.
We were conduced to the edge of the cavities, seized by the shoulders,
and each of us plunged into the one that was nearest. They proved just
deep enough to bring our throats on a level with the surface, while
standing erect. The loose earth was then shovelled in, and kneaded
firmly around us. More was added, until our shoulders were covered up,
and only our heads appeared above ground.
The position was ludicrous enough; and we might have laughed ourselves,
but that we were standing in our graves. From the fiendish spectators
it drew yells of laughter. What next? Was this to be the end of their
proceedings? Were we to be thus left to perish, miserably, and by
inches? Hunger and thirst would in time terminate our existence; but,
oh, the long hours of anguish that must be endured! Whole days of
misery we must suffer before the spark of life should forsake us--whole
days of horror and--Ha! they had not yet done with us!
No: a death like that we had been fancying appeared too easy to the
monster who directed them. The resources of his hatred were far from
being exhausted: he had still other, and far keener, torture in store
for us.
"Carajo! good!" cried he, as he stood admiring his contrivance; "better
than tie to tree--good fix, eh! No fear 'scape--_Carrai_, no. _Bring
fire_!"
Bring fire! It was to be fire, then, the extreme instrument of torture.
We heard the word--that word of fearful sound. We were to die by fire!
Our terror had arrived at its height. It rose no higher when we saw
fagots carried up to the spot, and built in a ring around our heads. It
rose no higher when we saw the torch applied, and the dry wood catching
the flame. It rose no higher as the blaze grew red, and redder, and we
felt its angry glow upon our skulls, soon to be calcined like the sticks
themselves.
No; we could suffer no more. Our agony had reached the acme of
endurance, and we longed for death to relieve us. If another pang had
been possible, there was cause for it in those screams now proceeding
from the opposite edge of the camp. Even in that dread hour, we could
recognise the voices of my sister and Viola. The unmerciful monster had
brought them out again to witness the execution. We saw them not; but
their wild plaints proved that they were spectators of the horrid scene.
Hotter and hotter grew the fire, and nearer licked the flames. I heard
my hair crisping and singing at the fiery contact.
Objects swam dizzily before my eyes. The trees tottered and reeled, the
earth whirled round. My skull ached as if it would soon split; my brain
was drying up; my senses were fast forsaking me.