Chapter Ninety A Conflict in Darkness - Osceola the Seminole by Mayne Reid
The forest continued to burn throughout the night, the following day, and the night after. Even on the second day, most of the trees were still on fire.
They no longer blazed, for the air was perfectly still, and there was no wind to fan the fire into flame. It was seen in red patches against the trunks, smouldering and gradually becoming less, as its strength spontaneously died out.
From many of the trees it had disappeared altogether, and these no longer bore any resemblance to trees, but looked like huge, sharp-pointed stakes, charred and black, as though profusely coated with coal-tar.
Though there were portions of the forest that might now have been traversed, there were other places where the fire still burned fiercely enough to oppose our progress. We were still besieged by the igneous element — as completely confined within the circumscribed boundaries of the glade, as if encompassed by a hostile army of twenty times our number — indeed, more so. No rescue could possibly reach us. Even our enemies, so far as our safety was concerned, could not have "raised the siege."
So far the old hunter’s providence had stood us in good stead. But for the horse some of us must have succumbed to hunger; or, at all events, suffered its extreme. We had been now four days without food — except what the handful of pine cones and the horse-flesh afforded us; and still the fiery forest hemmed us in. There was no alternative but to stay where we were until, as Hickman phrased it, "the woods should git cool."
We were cheered with the hope that another day would effect this purpose, and we might travel with safety.
The prospect before us was gloomy as that around us. As our dread of the fire declined, that of our human foes increased in an inverse proportion. We had but little hope of getting off without an encounter. They could traverse the woods as soon as we, and were certain to be on the look-out. With them the account was still to be settled. The gauntlet was yet to be run.
But we had grown fierce and less fearful. The greatest coward of our party had become brave, and no one voted for either skulking or hanging back. Stand or fall, we had resolved upon keeping together, and cutting our way through the hostile lines, or dying in the attempt. It was but the old programme, with a slight change in the mise-en-scene.
We waited only for another night to carry our plans into execution. The woods would scarce be as "cool" as we might have desired, but hunger was again hurrying us. The horse — a small one — had disappeared. Fifty starved stomachs are hard to satisfy. The bones lay around clean picked — those that contained marrow, broken into fragments and emptied of their contents; even the hideous saurian was a skeleton!
A more disgusting spectacle was presented by the bodies of the two criminals. The heat had swollen them to enormous proportions, and decomposition had already commenced. The air was loaded with that horrid effluvia peculiar to the dead body of a human being.
Our comrades who fell in the fight had been buried, and there was some talk of performing the like office for the others. No one objected; but none volunteered to take the trouble. In such cases men are overpowered by an extreme apathy; and this was chiefly the reason why the bodies of these wretches were suffered to remain without interment.
With eyes bent anxiously towards the west, we awaited the going down of the sun. So long as his bright orb was above the horizon, we could only guess at the condition of the fire. The darkness would enable us to distinguish that part of the forest that was still burning, and point out the direction we should take. The fire itself would guide us to the shunning of it.
Twilight found us on the tiptoe of expectation, and not without hope. There was but little redness among the scathed pines — the smoke appeared slighter than we had yet observed it. Some believed that the fires were nearly out — all thought the time had arrived when we could pass through them.
An unexpected circumstance put this point beyond conjecture. While we stood waiting, the rain began to fall — at first in big solitary drops, but in a few moments it came pouring down as if all heaven’s fountains had been opened together.
We hailed the phenomenon with joy. It appeared an omen in our favour. We could hardly restrain ourselves from setting forth at once; but the more cautious counselled the rest to patience, and we stood awaiting the deeper darkness.
The rain continued to pour — its clouds hastening the night. As it darkened, scarce a spark appeared among the trees.
"It is dark enough," urged the impatient. The others yielded, and we started forth into the bosom of the ruined forest. We moved silently along amid the black, calcined trunks. Each grasped his gun tight and ready for use. Mine was held only in one hand — the other rested in a sling.
In this plight I was not alone. Half a dozen of my comrades had been also "winged;" and together we kept in the rear. The better men marched in front, Hickman and Weatherford acting as guides.
The rain beat down upon us. There was no longer a foliage to intercept it. As we walked under the burnt branches, the black char was driven against our faces, and as quickly washed off again. Most of the men were bareheaded — their caps were over the locks of their guns to keep them dry — some sheltered their priming with the skirts of their coats.
In this manner we had advanced nearly half a mile, we knew not in what direction; no guide could have found path in such a forest. We only endeavoured to keep straight forward, with the view of getting beyond our enemies. So long unmolested, we had begun to hope that we might.
Alas! it was a momentary gleam. We were underrating the cunning of our red foes. They had watched us all the time — had dogged our steps, and at some distance off, were marching on both sides of us, in two parallel lines. While dreaming of safety we were actually in their midst!
The flashes of a hundred guns through the misty rain — the whistling of as many bullets — were the first intimation we had of their presence.
Several fell under the volley. Some returned the fire — a few thought only of making their escape.
Uttering their shrill cries, the savages closed in upon us. In the darkness they appeared to outnumber the trees.
Save the occasional report of a pistol, no other shot was heard — no one thought of reloading. The foe was upon us before there was time to draw a ramrod. The knife and hatchet were to be the arbiters of the fight.
The struggle was sanguinary as it was short. Many of our brave fellows met their death; but each killed his foeman — some two or three of them — before he fell.
We were soon vanquished. The enemy was five to one — how could it be otherwise? They were fresh and strong; we weak with hunger — almost emaciated — many of us wounded — how could it be otherwise?
I saw but little of the conflict — perhaps no one saw more; it was a straggle amidst opaque darkness.
With my one hand — and that the left — I was almost helpless. I fired my rifle at random, and had contrived to draw a pistol; but the blow of a tomahawk hindered me from using it, at the same time felling me senseless to the earth.
I was only stunned, and when my senses returned to me, I saw that the conflict was over. Dark as it was, I could perceive a number of black objects lying near me upon the ground. They were the bodies of the slain.
Some were those of my late comrades — others their foes — in many instances locked in each other’s embrace!
The savages were stooping over, as if separating them. On the former they were executing their last hideous rite of vengeance — they were scalping them.
A group was nearer; the individuals composing it were standing erect. One in their midst appeared to issue commands. Even in the grey light I could distinguish three waving plumes. Again Osceola!
I was not free, or at that moment I should have rushed forwards and grappled him, vain though the vengeful effort might have been. But I was not free.
Two savages knelt over me, as if guarding me against such an attempt. I perceived my black follower near at hand — still alive, and similarly cared for. Why had they not killed us?
At this moment a man was seen approaching. It was not he with the ostrich-plumes, though the latter appeared to have sent him.
As he drew near, I perceived that he carried a pistol. My hour was come. The man stooped over me, and placed the weapon close to my ear. To my astonishment he fired it into the air!
I thought he had missed me, and would try again. But this was not his purpose. He only wanted a light.
While the powder was ablaze, I caught a glance of the countenance. It was an Indian’s, but I thought I had seen it before; and from some expression the man made use of, he appeared to know me.
He passed quickly from me, and proceeded to the spot where Jake was held captive. The pistol must have had two barrels, for I saw him fire it again, stooping in the same manner over the prostrate form of the black. He then rose and called out:
"It is they — still alive."
This information appeared meant for him of the black plumes, for the moment it was given he uttered some exclamation I did not comprehend, and then walked away.
His voice produced a singular impression upon me. I fancied it did not sound like Osceola’s!
We were kept upon the ground only for a few minutes longer, and then a number of horses were brought up. Upon two of these Jake and I were mounted, and fast tied to the saddles. A signal was then given, and, with an Indian riding on each side of us, we were carried off through the woods.