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THE early history of Florida Territory, soon after it came into the possession of the United States, being written in characters of blood for years, it is considered both appropriate and interesting to intersperse a sprinkling of historical facts in this work, to the authenticity of which some now living can testify.

The Indians were intensely opposed to emigrating West, as that country offered them no such means of idleness as Florida, where they lived with as little solicitude as the buzzards that lazily flew above their heads—while in Arkansas they would have to work. They were a race of hunters and fishermen, with no habits of industry, gliding on the surface of lakes and rivers, with as little idea of locating as the watery inhabitants they captured.

The movements of the Indians and American troops, encumbered with their wagons, or a field-piece, compared unfavorably with the agile foe they had to meet in warfare, who could swim the streams and leap over the logs of the wide forest, and vanish, like the whooping crane, that made its nest at night far from the spot where it dashed the dew from the flowers and grass in the morning.

One of the occasions of the Seminole war, like our own late struggle, was on account of the fugitive slaves, which the Indians harbored, instead of returning to their owners, or permitting their masters to come and get them.

The following is a correct copy of an interesting document, to which frequent reference was made during the Florida war, as a compact which had been violated. We have transferred it as an item of interest. As the whites found the Indians becoming troublesome neighbors, this treaty was drawn up in order to rid the country of them—its violation the true cause of the war:

Treaty of Payne’s Landing, concluded May 9, 1832, and ratified

April 12, 1834.

Article I. That the Seminole Indians relinquish to the United States all claim to the lands they at present occupy in the Territory of Florida, and agree to immigrate to the country assigned to the Creeks, west of the Mississippi River—it being understood that an additional extent of territory, proportioned to their numbers, will be added to the Creek country, and that the Seminoles will be received as a constituent part of the Creek Nation, and be reädmitted to all the privileges as a member of the same.

Art. II. For and in consideration of the relinquishment of claim in the first article of this agreement, and in full compensation for all the improvements which may have been made on the lands thereby ceded, the United States stipulate to pay to the Seminole Indians fifteen thousand dollars, to be divided among the chiefs and warriors of the several towns, in a ratio proportioned to their population, the respective portions of each to be paid on their arrival in the country they consent to move to: it being understood their faithful interpreters, Abraham and Cudjo, shall receive two hundred dollars each of the above sum, in full remuneration for the improvements to be abandoned, now cultivated by them.

Art. III. The United States agree to distribute, as they arrive at their homes in the Creek Territory, west of the Mississippi River, a blanket and home-spun frock to each warrior, women and children, of the Seminole tribe of Indians.

Art. IV. The United States agree to extend the annuity for the support of a blacksmith, provided for in the sixth article of the treaty at Camp Moultrie, for ten years beyond the period therein stipulated; and in addition to the other annuities secured under that treaty, the United States agree to pay three thousand dollars a year for fifteen years, commencing after the removal of the whole tribe—these sums to be added to the Creek annuities, and the whole sum to be divided, that the chiefs and warriors of the Seminole Indians may receive their equitable portion of the same, as members of the Creek Confederation.

Art. V. The United States will take the cattle belonging to the Seminoles, at the valuation of some discreet person appointed by the President, and the same shall be paid for in money to the respective owners, after their arrival at their new homes; or other cattle, such as may be desired, will be furnished them, notice being given through their agent of their wishes on this subject, before their removal, that time may be afforded to supply the demand.

Art. VI. The Seminoles being anxious to be relieved from certain vexatious demands for slaves and other property, alleged to have been stolen and destroyed by them, so that they may remove unembarrassed to their new homes, the United States stipulate to have the same property investigated, and to liquidate such as may be satisfactorily established, provided the amount does not exceed seven thousand dollars.

Art. VII. The Seminole Indians will remove in three years after the ratification of this agreement, and the expenses of their removal shall be paid by the United States; and such subsistence shall also be furnished for a term not exceeding twelve months after their arrival at their new residence, as in the opinion of the President their numbers may require, the emigration to commence early as practicable in A.D. 1833, and with those Indians at present occupying the Big Swamp and other parts of the country beyond, as defined in the second article of the treaty concluded at Camp Moultrie Creek, so that the whole of that proportion of Seminoles may be removed within the year aforesaid, and the remainder of the tribe, in about equal proportions, during the subsequent years 1834 and 1835.

Done at Camp at Payne’s Landing, on the Ocklawaha River, in the Territory of Florida, May 9, 1832.

James Gadsden, Commissioner, [L. S.]

and fifteen Chiefs.

Osceola figured very conspicuously during the early history of our Florida troubles; indeed, we consider the following statements connected with his movements as items of unsurpassed interest to those who are more fond of facts without fiction than the wondrous legends of any day-dreamer.

The mother of Osceola belonged to the Red Stick tribe of Indians, a branch of the Creeks. She was married to Powell, who was an English trader among the Indians for twenty years, and for this reason he is sometimes called Powell instead of Osceola. He was born in the State of Georgia, on the Tallapoosa River, about the year 1800. In 1808 a quarrel occurred among the Indians of the Creek tribe, when the mother of Osceola left, taking him with her, and retiring to the Okefinokee Swamp. Powell remained in Georgia, with his two daughters, and emigrated to the West with them.

In 1817 Osceola retreated before General Jackson, with a small party, and settled on Pease Creek. A few years afterward he removed to the Big Swamp, in the neighborhood of Fort King, uniting himself with the Micosukees. The greater portion of his life was spent in disquietude, when there was neither peace nor war, but depredating in various ways. He was opposed to the Payne Treaty, declaring he would fight before signing it, or kill any of his followers who made a move toward its ratification.

When the Indians held a council at Fort King, consisting of thirteen chiefs, only eight of them were willing to leave for the West. Hoithlee Mattee, or Jumper, a sworn enemy of the whites, who was called in their language “The Lawyer,” and for whom General Jackson had offered a reward of five hundred dollars, rose in their council, with all the dignity of a Roman orator, after which he announced his intention in thundering tones: “I say there is no good feeling between Jumper and the white man. Every branch he hews from a tree on our soil is a limb lopped from Hoithlee’s body. Every drop of water that a white man drinks from our springs is so much blood from Hoithlee’s heart.”

After the return of Charlie Emaltha from the West, who was the most intelligent of their chiefs, he met with the whites in council, that he might give expression to his opinion: “Remain with us here,” said he to the whites, “and be our father; the relation of parent and child to each other is peace—it is gentle as arrow-root and honey. The disorderly among us have committed some depredations, but no blood has been spilled. We have agreed that if we met a brother’s blood on the road, or even found his dead body, we should not believe it was by human violence, but that he had snagged his foot, or that a tree had fallen upon him; that if blood was spilled by either, the offender should answer for it.”

Previous to this period the Indians were lords of the soil, and considered themselves located in a land of undisputed titles, as entirely their own property, by right of possession, as though they held registered deeds.

The following is an effort at Indian poetry, descriptive of their condition previous to hostile demonstrations:

We were a happy people then,

Rejoicing in our hunter mood;

No footsteps of the pale-faced men

Had marred our solitude.

Osceola was not tall, but of fine figure and splendid physique, his head being always encircled with a blue turban, surmounted by the waving tafa luste, or black-eagle plumes, with a red sash around his waist. He was a time-server, a self-constituted agent, and a dangerous enemy when enraged. In 1834 the United States survey corps, while camping at Fort King, was visited by Osceola, Fred L. Ming being the captain. Indians always show their friendship by eating with their friends. On this occasion he refused all solicitations to partake of their hospitality, and sat in silence, the foam of rage resting in the corners of his mouth. Finally he rose to retire, at the same time assuming a menacing manner, and, seizing the surveyor’s chain, said: “If you cross my land I will break this chain in as many pieces as there are links in it, and then throw the pins so far you can never get them again.” Like most of his race, he was possessed of a native eloquence, the following of which is a specimen, after the Payne’s Landing Treaty was framed and signed by some of the chiefs: “There is little more to be said. The people have agreed in council; by their chiefs they have uttered it; it is well; it is truth, and must not be broken. I speak; what I say I will do; there remains nothing worthy of words. If the hail rattles, let the flowers be crushed; the stately oak of the forest will lift its head to the sky and the storms, towering and unscathed.”

The whites continued urging the stipulations of the treaty to be enforced, while the Indians continued opposing it in every way. It is a law of our nature that the weak should suspect the strong; for this reason the Seminoles did not regard the Creeks as their friends, but feared them. Captain Wiley Thompson, the Agent, kept reminding the Indians that they had made a promise to leave for the West. Messages were also sent to Micanopy, who, after much debating, said he would not go. Some time afterward General Thompson ordered Osceola to come up and sign the emigration list, which request moved the indignation of this savage to the highest pitch of desperation, and he replied, “I will not.” General Thompson then told him he had talked with the Big Chief, in Washington, who would teach him better. He replied, “I care no more for Jackson than for you,” and, rushing up to the emigration treaty, as if to make his mark, stuck his knife through the paper. For this act of contempt he was seized, manacled, and confined in Fort King. When Col. Fanning arrested him he was heard to mutter, “The sun is overhead, I shall remember the hour; the Agent has his day, I will have mine.” After he was first imprisoned he became sullen, but soon manifested signs of penitence, and called the interpreter, promising, if his irons were taken off, to come back when the sun was high overhead, and bring with him one hundred warriors to sign the paper—which promise was fulfilled. The great mistake was made in releasing him from Fort King. If he had then been sent West, much blood and treasure would have been spared. He had one talk for the white man, and another for the red—being a strange compound of duplicity and superiority. After his release he commanded his warriors to have their knives in readiness, their rifles in order, with plenty of powder in their pouches, and commenced collecting a strong force, not eating or sleeping until it was done.

The first direct demonstration of hostility was on June 19, 1835, near what was called the Hogg’s Town settlement, at which time one Indian was killed, another fatally injured; also three whites wounded. The fray commenced by some whites whipping a party of five Indians, whom they had caught in the act of stealing. Private Dalton, a dispatch-rider, was killed August 11, 1835, while carrying the mail from Fort Brooke to Fort King. This was an act of revenge for an Indian killed in a former encounter. Dalton was found twenty miles from Fort King with his body cut open and sunk in a pond. The Indians commenced snapping their guns in the face of the Government, at the same time expressing their contempt for the laws, and threatening the country with bloodshed if any force should be used to restrain them. November 30, 1835, the following order was issued by the Agent: “The citizens are warned to consult their safety by guarding against Indian depredations.” Hostilities were soon inaugurated in a most shocking manner, with a tragedy of deep import—the killing of Charlie Emaltha, November 26, 1835—which act was only a cold-blooded murder, Osceola heading this band of savages. Charlie Emaltha was shot because he favored immigration, and was preparing to move West.

Osceola afterward selected ten of his boldest warriors, which were to wreak vengeance on General Thompson. The General was then camping at Fort King, little dreaming that the hour of his dissolution was so near, or that Osceola was lying in wait to murder him. Although a messenger was sent to tell Osceola of the Wahoo Swamp engagement being in readiness, no laurels won on other fields had any charms for him until Thompson should be victimized by his revengeful machinations. After lingering about for seven days, the opportune moment presented itself, when Thompson was invited away from the fort. On the afternoon of December 28, 1836, as he and Lieutenant Smith, who had dined out that day, were unguardedly walking toward the sutler’s store, about a mile from the post, the savages discovered them. Osceola said, “Leave the Agent for me; I will manage him.” They were immediately attacked by these warriors, when they both received the full fire of the enemy, and fell dead. Thompson was perforated with fourteen bullet-holes, and Smith with five. The Indians then proceeded to the store, where they shot Rogers and four others. After the murder they robbed the store and set fire to the building. The smoke gave the alarm, but the garrison at Fort King being small, no assistance could be rendered them.

On the same day (December 28), and nearly the same hour, Major F. L. Dade, when five miles from Wahoo Swamp, was attacked while on his way from Fort Brooke to Fort King. The Indians were headed by Jumper, who had previously warned those who were cowards not to join him. Micanopy, their chief, who was celebrated for his gluttony, like the Trojan heroes, could eat a whole calf or lamb, and then coil up in a snake-like manner for digestion. On a previous occasion, when an appeal was made to him by the argument of bullet-force, he replied, “I will show you,” and afterward stationed himself behind a pine-tree, awaiting the arrival of the Fort Brooke force, while his warriors lay concealed in the high grass around him. When Major Dade arrived opposite where the chief and his men were ambushed, Micanopy, in honor of his position as top chief, leveled his rifle and killed him instantly. Major Dade was shot through the heart, and died apparently without a struggle. The savages rushed from their coverts, when Captain Frazier was their next victim, together with more than a hundred of his companions. The suddenness of the attack, the natural situation of the country, with its prairies of tall grass, each palmetto thicket being a fortress of security from which they could hurl their death-dealing weapons, were all formidable foes with which the whites had to contend. Within a few hours’ march of Fort King, under the noonday splendor of a Florida sun, were one hundred and seven lifeless bodies, which had been surprised, murdered, and scalped, with no quarter, and far from the sound of human sympathy.

The night after the “Dade Massacre” the Indians returned to Wahoo Swamp with the warm life-current dripping from the scalps of those they had slain. These scalps were given to Hadjo, their Medicine Man, who placed them on a pole ten feet high, around which they all danced, after smearing their faces with the blood of their foes, and drinking freely of “fire-water.” One instance is mentioned worthy of remark, in regard to finding Major Dade’s men with their personal property untouched. Breast-pins of the officers were on their breasts, watches in their places, and silver money in their pockets. They took the military coat of Major Dade, and some clothing from his men, with all the arms and ammunition, which proved they were not fighting for spoils, but their homes. The “Bloody Eight Hundred,” after they had committed the murder, left the bodies unburied, and without mutilation, except from scalping. They were buried by the command of Major-general Gaines, who also named this tragic ground “Field of the Dead.”

Fights now followed each other in rapid succession. Long-impending hostilities burst upon the white settlers, who in turn sought every opportunity of gratifying their revenge for outrages committed. No person was safe; death lurked in every place, and there was security in none. Acts of fiendish barbarity were of common occurrence; houses burned—the labor of years gone forever—while many of the missing were consumed in the flames of their own dwellings, the savages dancing around the funeral-pile. The Indians appeared seized with a kind of desperation which knew no quarter, and asked for none, constantly posting themselves in the most frequented highways, with the intention of slaying or being slain.

On the 31st of December, same year, the Indians, receiving information that the troops under General Clinch were approaching, and would cross the Withlacoochee, posted themselves at the usual fording-place for the purpose of intercepting them. General Clinch was surprised by them, as they had greatly the advantage, being among the trees, while the troops were in an open space, with only an old leaky canoe to cross in, under constant fire of the enemy, some of them being obliged to swim. The soldiers accustomed to Indian warfare never forded twice in the same place. Captain Ellis, now a worthy citizen of Gainesville, Florida, who commanded a company during the Seminole war, being present when this attack was made, says: “I was so much afraid the war would be over before I had a chance to be in a fight, I was glad when I saw the Indians coming, but I got enough fighting before it was through with.” When he saw the savages at the commencement of this engagement, not knowing of the “Massacre,” he said, “Boys, the Indians have been killing our men, for they have got on their coats.”

Osceola was the prime leader in this first battle of Withlacoochee, and although whole platoons were leveled at him, from behind the tree where he was stationed he brought down his man every fire to the number of forty, while he ordered his warriors not to run from the pale faces, but to fight. The contest was a close one, but General Clinch held his ground. After the Indians retreated the troops buried their dead, and built log-fires over their remains to keep the enemy from digging them up and scalping them.

During September, 1837, Osceola sent in negotiations of peace to General Hernandez through an envoy, accompanied with presents of a bead pipe and white plume, as an assurance that the path of the pale face was peaceful and safe. General Hernandez, with the sanction of General Jessup, returned presents and friendly messages, requesting the presence of Osceola, with the distinct understanding that it was for the purpose of making arrangements for the immigration of his people. The messenger returned in accordance to his previous contract, reporting that Osceola was then on his way to St. Augustine with one hundred warriors. Osceola had never heretofore regarded the sacredness of a flag of truce as binding, besides being engaged in the abduction of Micanopy and others, who would otherwise have complied with the terms of the treaty. General Jessup intended before his arrival to have him detained. General Hernandez, who was the soul of honor, remonstrated with him, when he replied, “I am your superior; it is your duty to obey.” General Hernandez met them at Fort Peyton, near Pelicier Creek, about seven miles south-west of St. Augustine. From the inquiries of General Hernandez in regard to the other chiefs and their locality, Osceola soon comprehended the situation; and when asked for replies to the General’s questions, he said to the interpreter, “I feel choked; you must speak for me.” The place where they were assembled for parley being surrounded by a detachment of dragoons, they closed in on them, capturing the whole band without firing a gun.

This strategy in taking Osceola did not tarnish the laurels of General Jessup in the least; a much greater blunder was committed in turning him loose after his first capture. Those who have condemned him must think of the anxiety by day and horrors at night through which these poor settlers struggled, when time passed like a bewildering dream of terrors, improvement of all kinds languishing with a sickly growth, while the dragon of war sowed the seeds of discord, and desecrated the golden fleece of the harvest with a bloody hand.

When Osceola was first captured he was imprisoned in Fort Marion, but was afterward removed to Sullivan’s Island, where his wife and child accompanied him. He was a sad prisoner—never known to laugh during his confinement, but often heard to sigh. During his last illness he had the best medical attention from Charleston, whose skill he refused, believing they intended poisoning him. To one of his wives he was much attached, and his spirit passed away while leaning on her bosom. He died in 1838, from an inflammation of the throat.