Читать книгу The Seminoles of Florida - Minnie Moore-Willson - Страница 11

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After months of warfare, a conference among the Indians with a view to a treaty of peace was held. An Indian chief was sent to the American quarters.

Picture, if you will, an American camp, in the wooded wilds of Florida, and peer beyond the confines of the magnolia and the palms and you see a single Seminole chieftain, heralding his white flag. He approaches our General, the representative of proud and free America, and presents him with a white plume plucked from the egret, with a message from Osceola, with these words, “the path shall be white and safe from the great white chieftain’s camp to the lodge of Osceola.”

General Hernandez immediately despatched Coacoochee with a pipe of peace, kindly messages and presents.

What was the result? Osceola, in company with Wild Cat and other chiefs, accepted the truce and, under the sacred emblem of the white flag, met General Hernandez on October 21, 1837 at St. Augustine.

With that grave dignity characteristic of the red man, dressed in costume becoming their station, with as courtly a bearing as ever graced Kings, heralding their white flags they approached the place of meeting.

History verifies the Seminole account of this blot on our nation that, as the officers approached, they asked of Osceola: “Are you prepared to deliver up the negroes taken from the citizens? Why have you not surrendered them as promised by your chief Cohadjo?”

According to history, this promise had been made by a sub-chief and without the consent of the tribe. A signal, preconcerted, was at this moment given and armed soldiers rushed in and made prisoners of the chiefs.

An account of this violated honor, recently given by the venerable John S. Masters, of St. Augustine, Florida, is opportune at this point. The old soldier in speaking of the affair said, “I was one of the party sent out to meet Osceola when he was coming to St. Augustine under a flag of truce.” “Did you honor that truce?” was asked. “Did we? No sir; no sooner was he safe within our lines than the order to seize him, kill if necessary, was given, and one of the soldiers knocked him down with the butt of his musket. He was then bound and we brought him to Fort Marion and he was put in the dungeon. We were all outraged by the cowardly way he was betrayed into being captured.”

At this violation of the sanctity of the white flag our officers wrote: “The end justifies the means; they have made fools of us too often.”

The foul means used to capture the young Seminole leader was not blessed by victory, as a continuance of the bloody war for five years proved that the God of justice was not wholly on the white man’s side. The stain on our national honor will last as long as we have a history. Osceola with the other chiefs was confined for a short time in St. Augustine, but the daring savage was too valuable a prize to trust on Florida territory, and he was taken to Fort Moultrie where he died January 30, 1838, at the age of thirty-four years.

It is related that Osceola on being questioned as to why he did not make his escape, as did some of the other chiefs from Fort Marion, replied, “I have done nothing to be ashamed of; it is for those to feel shame who entrapped me.” Chas. H. Coe, in his Red Patriots says, “If the painter of the world-famed picture, Christ before Pilate, should seek in American history a subject worthy of his brush, we should commend to him, Osceola, before General Jessup. Osceola, the despised Seminole, a captive and in chains; Jessup, in all the pomp and circumstances of an American Major-General; Osceola, who had “done nothing to be ashamed of,” calmly confronting his captor, who cowers under the steady gaze of a brave and honorable man!”

But such is the Irony of Fate. Osceola, the free son of the forest, fettered by the chains of Injustice, was destined to eat out his heart in a musty dungeon.

Thoroughly and thrillingly dramatic was the death scene of the noble Osceola as given by Dr. Weedon his attending surgeon. Confinement no doubt hastened his death, and his proud spirit sank under the doom of prison life. He seemed to feel the approach of death, and about half an hour before the summons came he signified by signs—he could not speak—that he wished to see the chiefs and officers of the post. Making known that he wished his full dress, which he wore in time of war, it was brought him, and rising from his bed he dressed himself in the insignia of a chief. Exhausted by these efforts the swelling heart of the tempest-tossed frame subsided into stillest melancholy. With the death sweat already upon his brow, Osceola lay down a few minutes to recover his strength. Then, rising as before, with gloom dispelled, and a face agleam with smiles, the young warrior reached forth his hand and in dead silence bade each and all the officers and chiefs a last farewell. By his couch knelt his two wives and his little children. With the same oppressive silence he tenderly shook hands with these loved ones. Then signifying his wish to be lowered on his bed, with slow hand he drew from his war belt his scalping knife which he firmly grasped in his right hand, laying it across the other on his breast. In another moment he smiled away his last breath, without a struggle or a groan. In that death chamber there was not one tearless eye. Friends and foes alike wept over the dying chief. Osceola died as he lived—a hero among men.

OSCEOLA—PATRIOT AND WARRIOR,

DIED, JAN. 30,—1838.

Such is the inscription, that marks the grave of the hero of the Seminoles.

Even at this writing, it is a melancholy satisfaction to know that the great Indian leader was buried with the honor and respect due so worthy a foe.

A detachment of the United States troops followed by the medical men and many private citizens, together with all the chiefs, and warriors, women and children of the garrison in a body, escorted the remains to the grave, which was located near the entrance to Fort Moultrie, Charleston Harbor. A military salute was fired over the grave and as the sound reverberated over the dark waters of the bay, Justice and Patriotism, must have pointed with fingers of scorn to our great Nation, yet with tender pity, said “Osceola—the Rising Sun, may the Great Spirit avenge you, keep you, love you and cherish you,—the Defender of your country.”