Was I enduring the tortures of the future world? Were these its fiends
that grinned and jibbered around me? See! they scatter and fall back!
Some one approaches who can command them. Pluto himself? No; it is a
woman--a woman here?--is it Proserpine? If a woman, surely _she_ will
have mercy upon me! Vain hope! There is no mercy in hell. Oh, my
brain! Horror! horror!
There _are_ women--these are women--they look not fiends! No, they are
angels! Would they were angels of mercy!
But they are. See! one interferes with the fire. With her foot she
dashes it back, scattering the fagots in furious haste. Who is she? If
I were alive, I would call her Haj-Ewa; but dead, it must be her spirit
below.
But there is another. Ha! another, younger and fairer. If they be
angels, this must be the loveliest in heaven. It is the spirit of
Maumee!
How comes she in this horrid place among fiends? It is not the abode
for her. She was guilty of do crime that should send her here.
Where am I? Have I been dreaming? I was on fire just now--only my
brain it was that was burning; my body was cold enough--where am I?
Who are you, that stand over me, pouring coolness upon my head? Are you
not Haj-Ewa, the mad queen?
Whose soft fingers are those I feel playing upon my temples? Oh--the
exquisite pleasure imparted by their touch! Bend down, that I may look
upon your face, and thank you--"Maumee! Maumee!"
Then I am not dead. I live. I am saved!
It was Haj-Ewa, and not her spirit. It was Maumee herself--whose
beautiful, brilliant eyes were looking into mine. No wonder I had
believed it to be an angel.
"Carajo!" sounded a voice, that appeared hoarse with rage. "Remove
those women!--pile back the fires. Away, mad queen!--go back to your
tribe! these my captives--your chief no claim--_Carrambo_!--you not
interfere; pile back the fires!"
"Yamassees!" cried Haj-Ewa, advancing towards the Indians; "Obey him
not! or dread the wrath of Wykome! His spirit will be angry, and follow
you in vengeance. Wherever you go the _chitta mico_ will be on your
path, and its rattle in your ears. _Hulwak_! It will bite your heel as
you wander in the woods. Speak I not truth, thou king of the Serpents?"
As she uttered the interrogatory, she raised the rattlesnake in her
hands, holding it so that it might be distinctly seen by those whom she
addressed. The reptile hissed, accompanying the sibilation with a sharp
"skirr" of its tail. Who could doubt that it was an answer in the
affirmative?
Not the Yamassees, who stood awe-bound and trembling in the presence of
the mighty sorceress.
"And you, black runaways and renegades," she continued to the negro
allies--"you who have no god, and fear not Wykome--dare to rebuild the
fires--dare to lift one fagot--and you shall take the place of your
captives. A greater than yon yellow monster, your chief, will soon be
on the ground. _Hinklas_! Ho! yonder the Rising Sun! he comes--he
comes!"
As she ceased speaking, the hoof-strokes of a horse echoed through the
glade, and a hundred voices simultaneously raised the shout: "Osceola!
Osceola!" That cry was grateful to my ears. Though already rescued, I
had begun to fear it might prove only a short relief. Our delivery from
death was still far from certain--our advocates were but weak women.
The mulatto king, in the midst of his fierce satellites, would scarce
have yielded to their demands. Alike disregarded would have been their
entreaties. The fire would have been re-kindled, and the execution
carried out to its end.
In all probability this would have been the event, had not Osceola in
good time arrived upon the ground.
His appearance, and the sound of his voice, at once reassured me. Under
his protection we had nothing more to fear, and a soft voice whispered
in my ear that he came as our _deliverer_.
His errand was soon made manifest. Drawing bridle, he halted near the
middle of the camp, directly in front of us. I saw him dismount from
his fine black horse--like himself, splendidly caparisoned--and handing
the reins to a bystander, he came walking towards us. His port was
superb--his costume brilliantly picturesque; and once more, I beheld
those three ostrich-plumes--the real ones; that had played such a part
in my suspicious fancy.
When near the spot, he stopped, and gazed inquiringly towards us. He
might have smiled at our absurd situation, but his countenance betrayed
no signs of levity. On the contrary, it was serious and sympathetic. I
fancied it was sad.
For some moments he stood in a fixed attitude, without saying a word.
His eyes wandered from one to the other--my fellow-victim and myself; as
if endeavouring to distinguish us. No easy task. Smoke, sweat and
ashes, must have rendered us extremely alike, and both difficult of
identification.
At this moment, Maumee glided up to him, whispered a word in his ear,
and returning again, knelt over me, and chafed my temples with her soft
hands.
With the exception of the young chief himself, no one heard what his
sister had said; but upon _him_ her words appeared to produce an
instantaneous effect. A change passed over his countenance. The look
of sadness gave place to one of furious wrath; and turning suddenly to
the yellow king, he hissed out the word "Fiend!"
For some seconds he spoke no more, but stood gazing upon the mulatto, as
though he would annihilate him by his look. The latter quailed under
the conquering glance, and trembled like a leaf, but made no answer.
"Fiend and villain!" continued Osceola, without changing either tone or
attitude. "Is this the way you have carried out my orders? Are these
the captives I commanded you to take? Vile runaway of a slave! who
authorised you to inflict the fiery torture? Who taught you? Not the
Seminoles, whose name you have adopted and disgraced. By the spirit of
Wykome! but that I have sworn never to torture a foe, I should place you
where these now stand, and burn your body to ashes! From my sight--
begone! No--stay where you are. On second thoughts, I may need you."
And with this odd ending to his speech, the young chief turned upon his
heel, and came walking towards us.
The mulatto did not vouchsafe a reply, though his looks were full of
vengeance. Once, during the flagellation, I thought I noticed him turn
his eyes towards his ferocious followers, as if to invoke their
interference.
But these knew that Osceola was not alone. As he came up, the trampling
of a large troop had been heard, and it was evident that his warriors
were in the woods not far distant. A single _yo-ho-ehee_, in the
well-known voice of their chief, would bring them upon the ground before
its echoes had died.
The yellow king seemed himself to be aware of their proximity. Hence it
was that he replied not. A word at that minute might have proved his
last; and with a sulky frown upon his face, he remained silent.
"Release them!" said Osceola, addressing the _ci-devant_ diggers; "and
be careful how you handle your spades."
"Randolph!" he continued, bending over me; "I fear I have scarce been in
time. I was for off when I heard of this, and have ridden hard. You
have been wounded--are you ill hurt?"
I attempted to express my gratitude, and assure him I was not much
injured; but my voice was so freak and hoarse as to be hardly
intelligible. It grew stronger, however, as those fair fingers
administered the refreshing draught, and we were soon conversing freely.
Both of us were quickly "unearthed," and with free limbs stood once more
upon the open ground. My first thoughts were to rush towards my sister,
when, to my surprise, I was restrained by the chief.
"Patience," said he; "not yet, not yet--Maumee will go and assure her of
your safety. See! she knows it already! Go, Maumee! Tell Miss
Randolph, her brother is safe! and will come presently. But she must
remain where she is, only for a little while. Go, sister, and cheer
her."
Turning to me, he added in a whisper; "She has been placed there for a
purpose--you shall see. Come with me--I shall show you a spectacle that
may astonish you--there is not a moment to be lost; I hear the signal
from my spies. A minute more, and we are too late--come! come!"
Without opposing a word, I hastened after the chief, who walked rapidly
towards the nearest edge of the woods.
He entered the timber, but went no farther. When fairly under cover of
the thick foliage, he stopped, turned round, and stood facing towards
the camp.
Obedient to a sign, I imitated his example.