Chapter Eighty Five A Meagre Meal - Osceola the Seminole by Mayne Reid
To us the partial armistice was of no advantage. We dared not stir from the trees. Men were athirst, and water within sight — the pond glittering in the centre of the glade. Better there had been none, since they dared not approach it. It only served to tantalise them. The Indians were seen to eat, without leaving their lines. A few waited on the rest, and brought them food from the fires. Women were observed passing backwards and forwards, almost within range of our guns.
We were, all of us, hungry as famished wolves. We had been twenty-four hours without tasting food — even longer than that — and the sight of our enemies, feasting before our very faces, gave a keen edge to our appetites, at the same time rekindling our indignation. They even taunted us on our starving condition.
Old Hickman had grown furious. He was heard to declare that he "war hungry enough to eat a Indyen raw, if he could git his teeth upon one," and he looked as if he would have carried but the threat.
"The sight o’ cussed red skins," continued he, "swallerin’ hul collops o’ meat, while Christyian whites haint neery a bone to pick, are enough to rile one to the last jeint in the eends o’ the toes — by the tarnal allygator, it ar!"
It is a bare place, indeed, where such men as Hickman and Weatherford will not find resources; and the energies of both were now bent upon discovery. They were seen scratching among the dead needles of the pines, that, as already stated, formed a thick layer over the surface of the ground.
Of what were they in search? worms? — grubs? — larvae or lizards? One might have fancied so; but no — it had not come to that. Hungry as they were, they were not yet ready to feed upon the reptilia. A better resource had suggested itself to them; and shortly after, an exclamation of joy announced that they had discovered the object of their search.
Hickman was seen holding up a brownish coloured mass, of conical form, somewhat resembling a large pineapple. It was a cone of the broom pine, easily recognisable by its size and shape.
"Now, fellers!" shouted he, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all around the glade, "jest gather a wheen o’ these hyar tree-eggs, and break ’em open; ye’ll find kurnels inside o’ ’em that aint bad chawin’ — they aint equal to hog an’ hominy; but we hant got hog an’ hominy, and these hyar’ll sarve in a pinch, I reck’n. Ef ye’ll only root among the rubbage aroun’ ye, ye’ll scare up a wheen — jest try it."
The suggestion was eagerly adopted, and in an instant "all hands" were seen scratching up the dead leaves in search of pine cones.
Some of these were found lying upon the surface, near at hand, and were easily procured, while others, were jerked within reach by ramrods or the barrels of rifles. Less or more, every one was enabled to obtain a supply.
The cones were quickly cut open, and the kernels greedily devoured. It was by no means an inferior food; for the seeds of the broom pine are both nutritive and pleasant to the palate. Their quality gave universal satisfaction — it was only in quantity they were deficient, for there was not enough of them within reach to stay the cravings of fifty stomachs hungry as ours were.
There was some joking over this dry breakfast, and the more reckless of the party laughed while they ate, as though it had been a nutting frolic. But the laughter was short-lived — our situation was too serious to admit of much levity.
It was an interval while the firing of the enemy had slackened, almost ceased; and we had ample time to consider the perils of our position. Up to this time, it had not occurred to us that, in reality, we were besieged. The hurried excitement of the conflict had left us no time for reflection. We only looked upon the affair as a skirmish that must soon come to an end, by one side or the other proving victorious.
The contest no longer wore that look; it had assumed the aspect of a regular siege. We were encompassed on every side — shut up as if in a fortress, but not half so secure. Our only stockade was the circle of standing trees, and we had no blockhouse to retire to — no shelter in the event of being wounded. Each man was a sentry, with a tour of guard duty that must be continual!
Our situation was indeed perilous in the extreme. There was no prospect of escape. Our horses had all galloped off long since; one only remained, lying dead by the side of the pond. It had been killed by a bullet, but it was not from the enemy. Hickman had fired the shot; I saw him, and wondered at the time what could be his object. The hunter had his reasons, but it was only afterwards I learned them.
We could hold our ground against five times our number — almost any odds — but how about food? Thirst we did not fear. At night we should have relief. Under the cover of night we could approach the pond, one after another.
We had no apprehension from want of water; but how about food? The cones we had gathered were but a bite; there were no more within reach; we must yield to hunger — to famine.
We conversed with one another freely, as if face to face. We canvassed our prospects; they were gloomy enough.
How was the affair to end? How were we to be delivered from our perilous situation? These were the questions that occupied the thoughts of all.
We could think of only one plan that offered a plausible chance of escape; and that was to hold our position until nightfall, make a sally in the darkness, and fight our way through the lines of our foes. It would be running the gauntlet; a few of us would certainly fall — perhaps many — but some would escape. To stay where we were would be to expose our whole party to certain sacrifice. There was no likelihood of our being rescued by others; no one entertained such a hope. As soon as hunger overcame us, we should be massacred to a man.
Rather than patiently abide such a fate, we resolved, while yet strong, to risk all chances, and fight our way through the enemy’s line. Darkness would favour the attempt; and thus resolved, we awaited the going down of the sun.