Chapter Thirty One The Traitor Chiefs - Osceola the Seminole by Mayne Reid
Soon after, I retired from the mess-table, and strolled out into the stockade.
It was now after sunset. Orders had been issued for no one to leave the fort; but translating these as only applicable to the common soldier, I resolved to sally forth.
I was guided by an impulse of the heart. In the Indian camp were the wives of the chiefs and warriors—their sisters and children—why not she among the rest?
I had a belief that she was there—although, during all that day, my eyes had been wandering in vain search. She was not among those who had crowded around the council: not a face had escaped my scrutiny.
I resolved to seek the Seminole camp—to go among the tents of the Micosaucs—there, in all likelihood, I should find Powell—there I should meet with Maümee.
There would be no danger in entering the Indian camp—even the hostile chiefs were yet in relations of friendship with us; and surely Powell was still my friend? He could protect me from peril or insults.
I felt a longing to grasp the hand of the young warrior, that of itself would have influenced me to seek the interview. I yearned to renew the friendly confidence of the past—to talk over those pleasant times—to recall those scenes of halcyon brightness. Surely the sterner duties of the chief and war-leader had not yet indurated a heart, once mild and amiable? No doubt the spirit of my former friend was embittered by the white man’s injustice; no doubt I should find him rancorous against our race; he had reason—still I had no fears that I myself was not an exception to this wholesale resentment.
Whatever the result, I resolved to seek him, and once more extend to him the hand of friendship.
I was on the eve of setting forth, when a summons from the commander-in-chief called me to his quarters. With some chagrin, I obeyed the order.
I found the commissioner there, with the officers of higher rank—the Ringgolds and several other civilians of distinction.
On entering, I perceived that they were in “caucus,” and had just ended the discussion of some plan of procedure.
“The design is excellent,” observed General Clinch, addressing himself to the others; “but how are Omatla and ‘Black Dirt’ (Note 1) to be met? If we summon them hither, it may create suspicion; they could not enter the fort without being observed.”
“General Clinch,” said the elder Ringgold—the most cunning diplomatist of the party—“if you and General Thompson were to meet the friendly chiefs outside?”
“Exactly so,” interrupted the commissioner. “I have been thinking of that. I have sent a messenger to Omatla, to inquire if he can give us a secret meeting. It will be best to see them outside. The man has returned—I hear him.”
At this moment, a person entered the room, whom I recognised as one of the interpreters who had officiated at the council. He whispered something to the commissioner, and then withdrew.
“All right, gentlemen!” exclaimed the latter, as the interpreter went out; “Omatla will meet us within the hour. Black Dirt will be with him. They have named the ‘Sink’ as the place. It lies to the north of the fort. We can reach it without passing the camp, and there will be no risk of our being observed. Shall we go, General?”
“I am ready,” replied Clinch, taking up his cloak, and throwing it over his shoulders; “but, General Thompson,” said he, turning to the commissioner, “how about your interpreters? Can they be intrusted with a secret of so much importance?”
The commissioner appeared to hesitate. “It might be imprudent,” he replied at length, in a half soliloquy.
“Never mind, then—never mind,” said Clinch; “I think we can do without them. Lieutenant Randolph,” continued he, turning to me, “you speak the Seminole tongue fluently?”
“Not fluently, General; I speak it, however.”
“You could interpret it fairly.”
“Yes, General; I believe so.”
“Very well, then; that will do. Come with us!”
Smothering my vexation, at being thus diverted from my design, I followed in silence—the commissioner leading the way, while the General, disguised in cloak and plain forage cap, walked by his side.
We passed out of the gate, and turned northward around the stockade. The tents of the Indians were upon the southwest, placed irregularly along the edge of a broad belt of “hommocky” woods that extended in that direction. Another tract of hommock lay to the north, separated from the larger one by savannas and open forests of pine timber. Here was the “Sink.” It was nearly half a mile distant from the stockade; but in the darkness we could easily reach it without being observed from any part of the Seminole camp.
We soon arrived upon the ground. The chiefs were before us. We found them standing under the shadows of the trees by the edge of the pond.
My duty now began. I had little anticipation that it was to have been so disagreeable.
“Ask Omatla what is the number of his people—also those of Black Dirt, and the other chiefs who are for us.”
I put the question as commanded.
“One-third of the whole Seminole nation,” was the ready reply.
“Tell them that ten thousand dollars shall be given to the friendly chiefs, on their arrival in the west, to be shared among them as they deem best—that this sum is independent of the appropriation to the whole tribe.”
“It is good,” simultaneously grunted the chiefs, when the proposition was explained to them.
“Does Omatla and his friends think that all the chiefs will be present to-morrow?”
“No—not all.”
“Which of them are likely to be absent?”
“The mico-mico will not be there.”
“Ha! Is Omatla sure of that?”
“Sure. Onopa’s tents are struck: he has already left the ground.”
“Whither has he gone?”
“Back to his town.”
“And his people?”
“Most of them gone with him.”
For some moments the two generals communicated together in a half whisper. They were apart from me: I did not not hear what they said. The information just acquired was of great importance, and seemed not to discontent them.
“Any other chief likely to be absent to-morrow?” they asked, after a pause.
“Only those of the tribe of ‘redsticks.’” (Note 2.)
“Hoitle-mattee?”
“No—he is here—he will remain.”
“Ask them if they think Osceola will be at the council to-morrow.”
From the eagerness with which the answer was expected, I could perceive that this was the most interesting question of all. I put it directly.
“What!” exclaimed the chiefs, as if astonished at the interrogatory. “The Rising Sun! He is sure to be present: he will see it out!”
“Good!” involuntarily ejaculated the commissioner, and then turning to the General, he once more addressed him in a low tone. This time, I overheard what passed between them.
“It seems, General, as if Providence was playing into our hands. My plan is almost sure to succeed. A word will provoke the impudent rascal to some rudeness—perhaps worse—at all events, I shall easily fix a pretext for shutting him up. Now that Onopa has drawn off his following, we will be strong enough for any contingency. The hostiles will scarcely outnumber the friendly, so that there will no chance of the rascals making resistance.”
“Oh! that we need not fear.”
“Well—with him once in our power the opposition will be crushed—the rest will yield easily—for, beyond doubt, it is he that now intimidates and hinders them from signing.”
“True,” replied Clinch in a reflective tone; “but how about the government, eh? Will it endorse the act, think you?”
“It will—it must—my latest dispatch from the President almost suggests as much. If you agree to act, I shall take the risk.”
“Oh, I place myself under your orders,” replied the commander-in-chief, evidently inclined to the commissioner’s views, but still not willing to share the responsibility. “It is but my duty to carry out the will of the executive. I am ready to coöperate with you.”
“Enough then—it shall be done as we have designed it. Ask the chiefs,” continued the speaker, addressing himself to me, “ask them, if they have any fear of signing to-morrow.”
“No—not of the signing, but afterwards.”
“And what afterwards?”
“They dread an attack from the hostile party—their lives will be in danger.”
“What would they have us do?”
“Omatla says, if you will permit him and the other head chiefs to go on a visit to their friends at Tallahassee, it will keep them out of danger. They can stay there till the removal is about to take place. They give their promise that they will meet you at Tampa, or elsewhere, whenever you summon them.”
The two generals consulted together—once more in whispers. This unexpected proposal required consideration.
Omatla added:
“If we are not allowed to go to Tallahassee, we cannot, we dare not, stay at home; we must come under the protection of the fort.”
“About your going to Tallahassee,” replied the commissioner, “we shall consider it, and give you an answer to-morrow. Meanwhile, you need not be under any apprehension. This is the war-chief of the whites; he will protect you.”
“Yes,” said Clinch, drawing himself proudly up. “My warriors are numerous and strong. There are many in the fort, and many more on the way. You have nothing to fear.”
“It is good!” rejoined the chiefs. “If troubles arise, we shall seek your protection; you have promised it—it is good.”
“Ask the chiefs,” said the commissioner, to whom a new question had suggested itself—“ask them if they know whether Holata Mico will remain for the council of to-morrow.”
“We cannot tell now. Holata Mico has not declared his intention. We shall soon know it. If he designs to stay his tents will stand till the rising of the sun; if not, they will be struck before the moon goes down. The moon is sinking—we shall soon know whether Holata Mico will go or stay.”
“The tents of this chief are not within sight of the fort?”
“No—they are back among the trees.”
“Can you send word to us?”
“Yes, but only to this place; our messenger would be seen entering the fort. We can come back here ourselves, and meet one from you.”
“True—it is better so,” replied the commissioner, apparently pleased with the arrangement.
A few minutes passed, during which the two generals communicated with each other in while whispers, the chiefs stood apart, silent and immobile as a pair of statues.
The commander-in-chief at length broke the silence:
“Lieutenant! you will remain upon the ground till the chiefs return. Get their report, and bring it direct to my quarters.”
Salutations were exchanged; the two generals walked off on the path that led to the fort, while the chiefs glided silently away in the opposite direction. I was left alone.
Note 1. So Lusta Hajo was called by the Americans. His full name was Fuchta-Lusta-Hajo, which signifies “Black Crazy Clay.”
Note 2. A name given to the Micosaucs, from their custom of setting up red poles in front of their houses when going to war. A similar custom exists among other tribes; hence the name “Baton Rouge,” applied by the French colonists.