COACOOCHEE'S FIRST BATTLE
The next morning's sun ushered in one of the fairest of Floridian days;
the air was clear, cool, and bracing. It was filled with the aromatic
odors of pines and vibrant with the songs of birds. All was life and
activity in the camp of soldiers, who were preparing for an early start
on the long day's march that they hoped would bring them to their
destination that same evening.
"We are past all the bad places now, boys," cried Major Dade, cheerily,
as he rode to the head of the column. "This swamp is our last danger
point, and beyond this there is nothing to apprehend. The cowardly
redskins have let a good chance slip by, and it will be long before
they will be given another."
Then the bugles sounded merrily, and with light hearts the command
resumed its march. But the Indians had moved earlier than they.
At daylight that morning one hundred and eighty warriors glided like
shadows out from the dark recesses of the swamp, and, following the
lead of Coacoochee, advanced some four miles beyond it. Where they
finally halted in the open pine woods there was a thick growth of scrub
or saw-palmetto.
A pond bounded the road on the east at this point, and the entire body
of Indians took positions on the opposite or western side. Each warrior
selected his own tree or clump of palmetto, and sank out of sight
behind it. Three minutes after their arrival nothing was to be seen nor
heard save the solemn pines and the sighing of the wind through their
branches.
There was so little to arouse suspicion that a small herd of deer
fleeing before the advancing troops and coming down the wind dashed
in among the Indians before discovering their presence. Even then the
hidden warriors made no sign, and the terrified animals pursued their
flight unmolested.
Besides Coacoochee, the chiefs in command of the Seminole force were
Micanopy, Jumper, and Alligator. It had been determined that Micanopy,
as head chief, should fire the first shot of the contest, and as
the old man was timid and undecided, Coacoochee stood beside him to
strengthen his courage.
At length about nine o'clock the troops appeared in view. They marched
easily in open order, the bright sunlight glinted bravely on their
polished weapons, and many were the shouts of light-hearted merriment
that rose from their ranks. Louis, the guide, was not to be seen, as on
some trifling pretext he had dropped behind the column.
The advanced guard reached the pond and passed it unmolested. It was
not until the main body was directly abreast the Indian centre that
the wild war-whoop of Otee the Jumper rang through the forest. The
next instant Micanopy's trembling fingers, guided by Coacoochee's
unflinching hand, pulled the trigger of the first rifle. With its flash
a great sheet of flame leaped from the roadside, and half of Major
Dade's command lay dead, without having known from where or by whom the
fatal blow was struck.
The survivors, confused and demoralized by the suddenness and
unexpectedness of this attack from an unseen foe, still made a brave
effort to rally and return the pitiless fire that seemed to leap from
every tree of the forest. Their one field-piece, a six-pounder, was
brought up and discharged several times, but its gunners presented an
attractive target to the hidden riflemen, and it was speedily silenced.
A small company of soldiers managed to fell a few trees in the form
of a triangular barricade. Behind this they took shelter, and from it
maintained a stout fire for some hours; but early in the afternoon
their last gun was silenced, and only the shadows of death brooded over
the terrible scene.
During the fight the Indians had kept up an incessant yelling, but
now they appeared stunned at the completeness of their success and
contemplated their victory in silence.
With Louis Pacheco, who had joined the Indians immediately after
the first fire, Coacoochee walked slowly and thoughtfully over the
battle-field. He sternly forbade his warriors to mutilate or rob
the dead, and speedily withdrew them to their encampment in the
great swamp, from which they had emerged with such mingled hopes and
apprehensions that morning.
Soon after their departure a band of fifty negroes, who had been
summoned from a distance to take part in the battle, rode up to
the scene of slaughter. Disappointed at having arrived too late to
participate in it, they made an eager search among the heaps of
slain, for any who should still show signs of life. If such were
discovered, they were immediately put to death, while even the dead
bodies were mutilated and stripped. After thus gratifying their
bloodthirsty instincts, these, too, laden with scalps and plunder of
every description, followed their Indian allies to the swamp, and on
the blood-soaked field an awful stillness succeeded the wild tumult of
battle.
As darkness shrouded the pitiful scene, two human figures, the only
living survivors of "Dade's Massacre," slowly disengaged themselves
from the dead bodies by which they were surrounded. They were wounded,
and faint from the loss of blood, but they dragged themselves painfully
away and were lost in the night shadows of the forest. Five days
later they reached Fort Brooke and there gave the first notice of the
terrible blow by which the despised Seminole had defied the power of
the United States.
The Indian loss in this battle was three killed and five wounded.
That same night, Osceola and his warriors, laden with trophies and
plunder, reached the encampment in the Wahoo Swamp. They had much
to tell as well as much to hear, and the whole night was devoted to
feasting, dancing, drinking, and every species of savage rejoicing over
their successes.
Coacoochee, though filled with a sense of exultation, took no part in
these excesses. He preferred talking with Louis and several of the
graver chiefs regarding the future conduct of the war, and the chances
for its speedy termination. All were agreed that there would be no
further fighting for some time, and as both the young men were most
anxious to visit Philip Emathla's village, they determined to do so at
once.
At daylight, therefore, they left the swamp and started on their
journey. By noon they were threading an open forest many miles from
their point of departure. They were proceeding in silence, with
Louis following Coacoochee, and stepping exactly in his tracks. This
precaution was taken as a matter of habit, rather than from any idea
that there was an enemy within many miles of them.
Suddenly Coacoochee stopped, held up his hand in warning, and listened
intently, with his head inclined slightly forward. "Does my brother
hear anything?" he asked.
No; Louis heard nothing save the sound of wind among the tree-tops. His
ears were not so sharp as those of Coacoochee, nor, for the matter of
that, was any other pair in the whole Seminole nation. So marvellously
keen was the young war-chief's sense of hearing, that his companions
deemed it unsafe to utter a word not intended for his ears within
sight of where he stood. They believed him to be able to hear ordinary
conversation as far as he could see. Although this was undoubtedly an
exaggeration, his powers in this respect were certainly remarkable, and
excited astonishment in all who were acquainted with them.
Now, after standing and listening for a moment with bent head, he threw
himself to the ground, and placing one ear in direct contact with the
earth, covered the other with his hand. He also closed his eyes, the
better to concentrate all his powers into the one effort of hearing.
He lay thus for several minutes, and then slowly regained his feet.
There was now an anxious expression on his face. Louis could no longer
restrain his curiosity. "What is it, Coacoochee? What do you think you
hear?"
The asking of this question would have at once betrayed Louis to be
of other than Indian blood; for no Seminole would have exhibited the
slightest curiosity until the other was ready to disclose his secret of
his own accord.
So Coacoochee smiled slightly at his comrade's impatience as he
answered:
"I hear more white men coming from that way"--here he pointed to the
north; "they are many. Some of them are soldiers, and some are not.
They travel slowly, for they have much baggage. They fear no danger and
are careless. They have no cannon, but they have many horses. They know
nothing of yesterday's battle. Let us go and look at them, where my
brother will see that Coacoochee has heard truly."
Louis gazed at his companion, in amazement. "How is it possible for you
to hear these things when I can hear nothing at all?" he asked. "I am
not deaf. My ears are as good as those of most men, but they detect no
sound. You must be making game of me. Is it not so?"
For answer Coacoochee persuaded him to lay his ear to the ground and
listen as he had done a moment before.
When Louis rose, he said: "I do indeed hear something in the ground,
but it is only a confused murmur. I cannot tell what it is or where it
comes from."
Coacoochee smiled, and said: "My brother's ears are good. He has heard
more than would most men; but Coacoochee's are better. No sound is
withheld from them. He can hear the grass grow and the flowers unfold.
The murmur that my brother hears is the sound of an army marching.
They are white men because they tread so heavily. Some of them are
soldiers because they blow bugles and because they keep step in their
marching. More of them are not, for they walk as they please, and
many of them ride on horses. They have much baggage, for I hear the
sound of many wagons. They fear no danger and are careless, for they
run races with their horses and fire pistols. They have not learned
of yesterday's battle, or they would be sorrowful and quiet. Now they
laugh and are merry."
Half an hour later, as Coacoochee and Louis occupied positions among
the spreading, moss-enveloped limbs of a large tree, the eyesight of
the latter confirmed all that his comrade's marvellous hearing had
already told them.
From their perch they could overlook a broad savanna, across which
slowly moved a small army of white men. They counted nearly one
thousand, two hundred of whom were regular troops; the rest were
ununiformed militia, many of them mounted and exhibiting but little
discipline. These rode hither and thither, as they pleased, ran races,
fired their pistols at stray birds, and shouted loudly. They were a
cruel, rough set, and the heart of Coacoochee grew heavy with the
thought of such a powerful and merciless invasion of the Seminole
country.