THE YOUNG CHIEF MAKES A TIMELY DISCOVERY
Without ammunition the warriors of Coacoochee could not be persuaded to
remain on the field of battle, and the frightened soldiers had hardly
reached the river bank before the Indians were also in full retreat
toward their strongholds in the great swamp.
Of this the soldiers knew nothing, nor did they stop to inquire why
they were not pursued. They were thankful enough to be allowed to
re-embark, a dozen at a time, in their one canoe and recross the
river without molestation. They imagined the forest behind them to be
swarming with Indians, and they trembled beneath the supposed gaze of
hundreds of gleaming eyes with which their fancy filled every thicket.
Late that afternoon General Clinch and his terrified army were in
full retreat toward Fort Drane, with their eyes widely opened to the
danger and difficulty of invading an enemy's country, even though that
enemy was but a band of despised Indians. They carried with them fifty
wounded men and left four dead behind them, besides several others
reported as missing. They had killed three of the enemy and wounded
five. When they reached the safe shelter of the fort, they reported
that they had gained an important victory.
Upon the retreat of the Seminoles, Coacoochee and Louis, who had
rejoined him that day, remained behind to watch the troops and discover
what they might of their plans for the future. They supposed, of
course, that with the cessation of the Indian fire, the soldiers would
again advance, and finding no further opposition offered, would proceed
with their invasion of the country. They could hardly believe their own
eyes, therefore, when they saw that the troops were actually recrossing
the river, as evidently in full retreat as were the Seminole warriors
in the opposite direction at that very moment.
Upon beholding this marvellous sight, Louis was in favor of hastening
after their friends and bringing them back to follow and harass General
Clinch's retreating army; but Coacoochee said that without ammunition
they could do nothing, and that it was better, under the circumstances,
to let affairs remain as they were. At the same time, he desired Louis
to hasten up to the ford, cross the river at that point, and, coming
cautiously down on the other side, discover if the soldiers were really
in retreat, or if they still had their position near the ferryman's
house. While the mulatto was thus engaged, he himself would remain
where they were, to follow the troops, should they recover from their
panic, and decide, after all, to continue their invasion of the Indian
country.
After Louis had been despatched on this mission, Coacoochee, satisfied
that the soldiers were too intent upon recrossing the river and gaining
a place of safety to disturb him, ventured to revisit the battle-field,
in the hope of finding a stray powder-flask or pouch of bullets.
So successful was his search, that he not only found a number of these,
but several rifles that had been flung away by the soldiers in their
hurried flight.
While busy collecting these prizes, the young chief was startled by
hearing a faint groan. He looked about him. There was nobody in sight;
but again he heard a groan. This time he located it as proceeding from
a clump of palmettoes a few paces distant.
Approaching these, and cautiously parting their broad leaves, he
discovered the body of a white man lying face downward. The man was
evidently severely wounded, for he lay motionless in a pool of blood,
but that he was also alive was shown by his occasional feeble groans.
Coacoochee's first impulse was to leave him where he lay. He would soon
die there. At any rate, the wolves would make short work of him that
night. It was contrary to the policy of the Indians to take prisoners,
and he certainly could not be burdened with one,--a wounded one, at
that.
His second impulse, which was urged by pity, of which even an Indian's
breast is not wholly void, was to put the wretch out of his misery by
means of a mercifully aimed bullet. He knew that his savage companions
would ridicule such an act. They would either leave the man to his
fate, after making sure that he could not possibly recover, or they
would revive him sufficiently to comprehend their purpose and then kill
him. They would never be so weak as to kill an unconscious man merely
to save him from suffering. Still this was what Coacoochee was about to
do, and he felt a kindly warming of the heart, as one does who is about
to perform a generous deed.
Slowly he raised his rifle and took a careful aim at the head of the
motionless figure before him. His finger was on the trigger. An instant
more and the deed would have been accomplished.
But there is no report. The brown rifle is slowly lowered, and the
young Indian's gaze rests as though fascinated upon something that
caught his eye as it sighted along the deadly tube.
It is only a peculiar seam in the white man's buckskin hunting-tunic,
but it runs down the middle of the back from collar to the bottom
of the shirt. There are other noticeable features about that
hunting-shirt. The little bunches of fringe at the shoulders are of a
peculiar cut, and all of its stitching is in yellow silk.
With a low cry of mingled horror and anticipation, Coacoochee dropped
his rifle, and springing forward, turned the unconscious man over so
that his face was exposed. It was that of Ralph Boyd, the man who
had twice saved his life; the man to whose noble scorn of one of the
cruellest enemies of an oppressed race he had listened with such
pleasure only two days before.
Indian and stern warrior though he was, Coacoochee turned faint at
the thought of how nearly he had taken this precious life, for the
saving of which he would willingly risk his own. The hunting-shirt
worn by Boyd was the very one in which Coacoochee had paid his last
memorable visit to St. Augustine. It was the one that had been slit
from top to bottom by Fontaine Salano's knife, and stripped from him,
in preparation for the whipping the brute proposed to administer. The
thought of that shameful moment caused Coacoochee's blood to boil again
with rage. At the same time the sight of this noble-hearted stranger
who had saved him from that bitter indignity moved him to greatest pity.
Kneeling beside the unconscious man, the young Indian sought to
discover the nature of his wound. To his amazement, it was caused by a
bullet that had been fired from _behind_. How could such a thing be?
None but white men were behind Boyd during the battle. Suddenly the
muttered words of Troup Jeffers flashed into his mind. Now all was
clear. To gratify his own petty revenge the slave-catcher had committed
this cowardly act.
The young chief was busily engaged in stanching the flow of blood, and
binding a poultice of healing leaves, mixed with the glutinous juice of
a cabbage palm, on the wound, when Louis returned and stood beside him.
The whites were in full retreat from the scene of their recent
discomfiture, and Louis had returned in the very canoe they had used
and abandoned. Now he and Coacoochee bore the wounded man tenderly to
it, crossed the river, and carried him to the ferryman's cabin, where
both he and the young chief had passed the previous night, unconscious
of each other's presence. Here they made him as comfortable as
possible, and here for awhile we must leave them.