A SWAMP STRONGHOLD OF THE SEMINOLES
On the morning following that midnight tragedy of the wilderness, the
Indians made haste to retreat to that portion of the country which they
still called their own. The flat-boats were used to carry themselves,
their negro allies, and such of the plunder as could be readily
transported to the opposite side of the river; the cattle and horses
were made to swim across. Such of the plunder collected by the white
renegades as must be left behind was burned. Among all the property
thus acquired by the Indians, none was more highly prized than the
gorgeous costumes of the theatrical company. The unfortunate actors
had been forced to abandon these in their hurried flight, and now
Coacoochee's grim-faced warriors wore them with startling effect.
Anstice Boyd could not help smiling at the fantastic appearance
thus presented by her escort, though feeling that the circumstances
in which she was placed warranted anything rather than smiles or
light-heartedness. Was her brother really wounded, and was she being
taken to him, or were those only plausible tales to lure her away
beyond chance of rescue?
"Can we trust him, Letty? Has he told us the truth?" she asked of her
maid, indicating Coacoochee with a slight nod.
"Law, yes, Miss Anstice! You can always trust an Injun to tell you the
truth, for they hasn't learned how to lie; that is, them as has kept
away from white folks hasn't. As for that young man, he has an honest
face, and I believe every word he says. He'll take us straight to Marse
Ralph, I know he will."
Comforted by this assurance, Anstice crossed the river with a lighter
heart than she had known for days. When, on the other side, and mounted
on a spirited pony she was allowed to dash on in advance of the strange
cavalcade that followed her, she began to experience an hitherto
unknown thrill of delight in the wild freedom of the forest life
unfolding before her.
Soon after leaving the river, the Indians began to divide into small
parties, each of which took a different direction, thus making a number
of divergent trails well calculated to baffle pursuit. The negroes
also separated into little companies, all of which were to be guided
to a common rendezvous, where, under the leadership of old Primus,
they promised to remain until "Marse" Boyd should again return to the
plantation and send for them.
Thus Anstice and her maid finally found themselves escorted only by
Coacoochee and two other warriors. Pushing forward with all speed, this
little party reached, at noon of the second day, the bank of a dark
stream that flowed sluggishly through an almost impenetrable cypress
swamp. One of the Indians remained here with the horses, while the rest
of the party embarked in one of several canoes that had been carefully
hidden at this point.
Urged on by the lusty paddles of Coacoochee and his companion, this
craft proceeded swiftly for nearly a mile up the shadowy stream.
Not even the noonday sun could penetrate the dense foliage that
arched above them. Festoons of vines depended like huge serpents
from interlacing branches, and funereal streamers of gray moss hung
motionless in the stagnant air. The black waters swarmed with great
alligators, that showed little fear of the canoe, and gave it reluctant
passage. Strange birds, water-turkeys with snake-like necks, red-billed
cormorants, purple galinules, and long-legged herons, startled from
their meditations by the dip of paddles, flapped heavily up stream in
advance of the oncoming craft, with discordant cries.
Upon such slender threads hang the fate of nations and communities as
well as that of individuals, that, but for these brainless water-fowl,
flying stupidly up the quiet river and spreading with harsh voices
the news that something had frightened them, the whole course of the
Seminole war might have been changed. As it was, a single Indian, who
was cautiously making his way down stream in a small canoe, hugging the
darkest shadows, and casting furtive glances on all sides, was quick to
make use of the information thus furnished.
As the squawking birds redoubled their cries at sight of him, he turned
his canoe quickly and drove it deep in among the cypresses at one side,
so that it was completely hidden from the view of any who might pass up
or down the river.
This Indian, who was known as Chitta-lustee (the black snake), had
hardly gained the hiding-place from which he peered out with eager
eyes, before the craft containing Coacoochee and his little party swept
into view around a bend, and slipped swiftly past him. The keen eye
of the young war-chief did not fail to note the floating bubbles left
by the paddle of the spy, but attributed them to an alligator, or to
some of the innumerable turtles that were constantly plumping into the
water from half-submerged logs as the canoe approached. So he paid no
attention to them, but a minute later guided his slender craft across
the river, and into an opening so concealed by low-hanging branches,
that one unfamiliar with its location might have searched for it in
vain.
This was what Chitta-lustee had been doing, and for the discovery, made
now by accident, he had been promised a fabulous reward in _whiskey_.
There were renegades among the Seminoles as well as among the whites,
and of these the Black Snake was one. Seduced from his allegiance to
those of his own blood by an unquenchable thirst for the white man's
fire-water, he had sold himself, body and soul, to the enemies of his
race.
General Scott, who had succeeded to the command of the army in Florida,
was bending all his energies toward breaking up the Indian strongholds
amid the swampy labyrinths of the Withlacoochee. Of these, the most
important was that of Osceola. No white man had ever seen it, and but
few Seminoles outside of the band occupying it had penetrated its
mysteries. Therefore the entire force of renegades, _friendly Indians_
the whites called them, some seventy in number, drawn from the band of
that traitor chief who had been bribed to agree to removal, were now
engaged in a search for these secluded camps, while liberal rewards had
been promised for the discovery of any one of them. Goods to the amount
of one hundred dollars, and one of the chiefships from which General
Wiley Thompson had deposed the rightful holders, would be given to him
who should lead the troops to the stronghold of Osceola. Chitta-lustee
cared little for the honor of chiefship, but dazzled by a vision of one
hundred dollars' worth of fire-water, which was the only class of white
man's goods for which he longed, he made up his mind to discover the
hidden retreat of the Baton Rouge, or perish in the attempt.
For many days had he skulked in the swamps, repeatedly passing the
concealed entrance to which Coacoochee had now unwittingly guided
him, without seeing it. As he noted the marks by which it might be
identified, he gloated over the prize that seemed at length within his
grasp and awaited impatiently the evening shadows that should enable
him to make further explorations.
In the meantime, the canoe from which Anstice Boyd was casting
shuddering glances at the sombre scenes about her, continued for a
short distance up a serpentine creek, so narrow as to barely afford it
passage, and was finally halted beside a huge, moss-grown log. This,
half-buried in the ooze of the swamp, afforded a landing-place, at
which the party disembarked. As they did so, Coacoochee turned to the
English girl, and said:
"The eye of the Iste-hatke has never looked upon this place. Ralph
Boyd knows it not, for he was brought here in darkness. Will my sister
keep its secret hidden deep in her own bosom, where no enemy of the
Iste-chatte shall ever find it?"
To this query Anstice replied: "Coacoochee, as you deal with me, so
will I deal by you. Take me in safety to my brother, and your secret
shall be safe with me forever."
"Un-cah! It is good," replied the young Indian. "Now let us go. Step
only where I step, and let the black girl step only where you step, for
the trail is narrow."
And narrow it proved. Other logs, felled at right angles to the first,
and sunk so deep in treacherous mud that their upper surface was often
under water, formed a precarious pathway to a strip of firmer land.
This natural causeway, to step from which was to be plunged in mud
as black and soft as tar, besides being almost as tenacious, led for
nearly half a mile to an island that rose abruptly from the surrounding
swamp.
This island was apparently completely covered with an impenetrable
growth of timber and underbrush laced together by a myriad of thorny
vines. The only trail by which the formidable barricade might be
penetrated was not opposite the end of the causeway, but lay at some
distance, to one side, where it was carefully concealed from all but
those who would die rather than reveal its secret. Even when it was
once entered, its windings were not easy to trace. But its perplexities
were short, and after a few rods the pathway ended abruptly in a scene
so foreign to that from which it started, that it seemed to belong
to another world. Instead of the funereal gloom, the slime, the rank
growth, and crowding horrors of the great swamp, here was a cleared
space, acres in extent, bathed in sunlight, and alive with cheerful
human activity.
On the highest point of land, beneath a clump of stately trees, stood a
cluster of palmetto-thatched huts, some open on all sides, and others
enclosed; but all raised a foot or two from the ground, so as to allow
of a free circulation of air beneath them. In and about these swarmed
a happy, busy population. Warriors, whose naked limbs exhibited the
firm outlines of bronze statues, cleaned or mended their weapons.
Groups of laughing women, cleanly in person, attractive to look upon,
and modestly clad, prepared food or engaged in other domestic duties;
while rollicking bands of chubby children shouted shrilly over games
that differed little from those of other children all over the world.
Stretching away from the village were broad fields of corn and cane,
amid which yams, pumpkins, and melons grew with wonderful luxuriance.
These fields were cared for by negroes, who dwelt in their own
quarters, and worked the productive land on shares, that frequently
brought larger returns to them than to the red-skinned proprietors of
the soil.
This was the swamp stronghold of Osceola, to which Coacoochee and Louis
had retreated after the battle of the Withlacoochee, bringing with
them the unconscious form of Ralph Boyd, the Englishman friend of the
enslaved and champion of the oppressed.
In common with most of the whites, this young man had underrated both
the numbers and courage of the Seminoles, and had not believed they
would dare fight, even for their homes, against United States troops.
It was only upon penetrating their country with General Clinch's army
that Ralph Boyd realized how bitter was to be the struggle and that it
was already begun. He had been shot down quite early in the battle at
the river-crossing and lay on the field unnoticed until found by the
one Indian who was inclined to save his life rather than take it.
When the wounded man next opened his eyes, he found himself lying on
a couch of softest skins, amid surroundings so foreign to anything he
had ever known that for awhile he was confident he was dreaming. Then
as the well-remembered form of Coacoochee bent anxiously over him, a
memory of recent events flashed into his mind. He realized that an
Indian war with all its attendant horrors was sweeping over the land,
and recalled the fact that his sister Anstice was alone and unprotected
on the plantation by the St. John's. Weakly he strove to rise, but fell
back with a groan.
"My brother must rest," said Coacoochee, chidingly. "He is among
friends, and there is no cause for uneasiness. Here there is no white
man to shoot him from behind."
"I care not for myself," murmured the sufferer. "It is my sister, left
without one to protect her or guide her to a place of safety. I must go
to her."
Again he attempted to rise, but was gently restrained by the young
Indian, who said:
"Let not my brother be troubled. Coacoochee will go in his place and
guide the white maiden to a safe shelter."
"Will you, Coacoochee? Will you do this thing for me?" exclaimed Boyd,
a faint color flushing his pale cheeks.
"Un-cah," answered the young war-chief. "This very hour will I go, and
when I come again I will bring a token from the white maiden who dwells
by the great river."