"WILEY THOMPSON, WHERE IS MY WIFE?"
While the wife of Osceola was thus being kidnapped and consigned to
slavery, he, ignorant of the blow in store for him, was participating
in a far different scene. Just outside the gateway of the fort, in
an open space of level sward, the great council upon which so much
depended was assembled. At one side of a long table sat General Clinch,
commanding the army in Florida, with the officers of his staff standing
behind him. Beside him sat General Wiley Thompson, the agent, red-faced
and pompous, Lieutenant Harris, the United States disbursing agent,
who was to conduct the Indians to their western homes, and several
commissioners. All the officers were in full uniform, and presented a
brave appearance. Behind them were two companies of infantry, resting
at ease on their loaded muskets, but ready to spring into action at a
moment's notice. Just inside the gateway of the fort the guns of its
light battery were charged to the muzzle with grape and canister, ready
for instant service. This was one side of the picture.
On the opposite side of the table from the whites sat or stood a group
of Indian chiefs, sullen, determined, and watchful. Too many times
already had the white man cheated them. They would take care that he
should not do so again. They had learned by bitter experience how
lightly he regarded such treaties as conflicted with his interests.
They knew the value of his false promises and fair words.
A little in front of the others sat Micanopy, head chief of the tribe,
and close behind him, so that they could whisper in his ear, stood
Coacoochee and Osceola. Grouped about them were Otee the Jumper, Tiger
Tail, Allapatta Tustenugge, the Fighting Alligator, Arpeika, or Sam
Jones, Black Dirt, Ya ha Hadjo, the Mad Wolf, Coa Hadjo, Halatoochee,
Abram, the negro chief, Passac Micco, and many others. Behind them
stood one hundred warriors, tall, clean-built fellows, lithe and
sinewy, their bare legs as hard and smooth as those of bronze statues.
Concealed in a hammock, but a short distance away, was another body of
warriors held in reserve by Coacoochee, who had thought it best not to
display the full strength of his force at once.
The old men, women, and children had been left in camp not far from the
trader's store. Here everything was prepared for instant flight in case
the council should terminate in an outbreak.
The proceedings were opened by General Thompson, who stated that he had
thus called the Indians together that they might decide upon a day
when they would fulfil their promise contained in the treaty of Payne's
Landing, and set forth for their new home in the west. He had prepared
a paper setting forth the conditions of removal, which he now wished
all the chiefs to sign.
Then Otee the Jumper, who was one of the most fluent speakers of the
tribe, arose and calmly but firmly stated that his people did not
consider themselves as bound by that treaty to remove from their
country, and had decided in solemn council not to do so.
At this point the Seminole speaker was rudely interrupted by General
Thompson, who, flushed and furious, sprang to his feet and demanded
by what right the Indians interpreted the treaty differently from
the whites by whom it was drawn up. He accused them of treachery and
double-dealing, and ended by declaring that it made no difference
whether they were willing to remove or not, for they would be made to
go, alive or dead, and he for one did not care which.
This speech drew forth angry replies from the chiefs, and to these the
agent retorted with such bitterness that General Clinch was finally
obliged to interpose his authority to calm both sides. He told the
Indians how useless it would be for them to struggle against the power
of the United States, and how greatly he would prefer that they should
remove peaceably rather than oblige him to remove them by force.
At this the Indians smiled grimly and exchanged contemptuous glances.
They knew that there were only seven hundred soldiers in all Florida,
and the idea of compelling them to do anything they did not choose,
with a little army like that, was too absurd. It almost made them
laugh, but their native dignity prevented such a breach of decorum.
General Clinch talked long and earnestly and was listened to with
respect and close attention. The agent regarded his arguments as so
unanswerable that at their conclusion he called on the chiefs by name
to step forward and sign the paper he had prepared.
"Micanopy, you are head chief. Come up and sign first at the head of
the list."
"No, Micanopy will never sign."
"Then Coacoochee may sign first. He comes, I believe, as representative
of the wise and brave King Philip."
"No, Coacoochee will not sign either for his father or himself."
"Jumper, then; and when he signs, I will make him head chief."
"No."
"Alligator?"
"No."
"Sam Jones?"
"No."
"Abram?"
"By golly. No."
At these repeated refusals to comply with his request, and the evident
contempt with which his offers of promotion were regarded, the fat
agent became so angry as to entirely lose his self-control.
"If you will not sign," he shouted, "you are no longer fit to hold
your positions. I therefore declare that Micanopy, Coacoochee, Jumper,
Alligator, Sam Jones, and Abram, shall cease from this minute to be
chiefs of the Seminole nation, and their names shall be struck from the
roll of chiefs."
At this an angry murmur ran through the ranks of the Indians, who
considered that a grievous insult had thus been offered them. Those
chiefs who had been sitting sprang to their feet and fell back a few
paces. The warriors behind them moved up closer, and Coacoochee,
slipping unnoticed through the throng, hurried back to the hammock to
direct the flight of the women and children, and bring up his reserve
force of warriors.
In the meantime an Indian who had come from the camp was talking with
low, hurried words to Osceola, who listened to him like one in a dream
or who does not fully comprehend what he hears.
Suddenly he sprang forward, his face livid with passion, and crying in
a loud voice, "I will sign! I, Osceola the Baton Rouge, will sign
this paper of the white man."
[Illustration: IT SUNK DEEP INTO THE WOOD OF THE TABLE AND STOOD
QUIVERING AS THOUGH WITH RAGE.]
Then stepping up to the table, while both whites and Indians watched
him with breathless interest, the fierce warrior plucked the
scalping-knife from his girdle and drove it with furious energy through
the outspread paper. It sunk deep into the wood of the table, and stood
quivering as though with rage.
"There is my signature, General Wiley Thompson," he cried in a voice
that trembled with the intensity of his emotion. "There is the
signature of Osceola, and I would that it were inscribed on your
cowardly heart. Where is my wife? What have you done with her? Give
her back to me, I say, and as safe as when I left her in yonder grove.
If you do not, I swear by the white man's God, and by the Great Spirit
of my people, that not only your own vile life, but that of every
white man who comes within reach of Osceola's vengeance, shall be
forfeited. As you have shown no mercy, so shall you receive none. The
word shall be unknown to the Seminole tongue. You taunt me with being
a half-blood. I am one; but I am yet a man, and not a slave. With my
white blood I defy you, and with my Indian blood I despise you. Wiley
Thompson, where is my wife?"