Читать книгу The Seminoles of Florida - Minnie Moore-Willson - Страница 15

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The author begs the indulgence of the reader in giving the following dialect story of that historic Treaty Dinner, when our gallant American General Worth made peace terms with the Indians in 1842.

The treaty was signed at Fort King, now the present site of Ocala, Florida, and as one listens to the story of that eventful day, a story complete in its setting as told by our old Bandanna Mammy, the heart throbs and the pulse grows quicker—so vivid is the recital.

As the tale is related a most picturesque scene comes before the mind, the garrison with its stack of arms, dusky warriors mingling with American soldiery, glittering sunshine and singing birds, tables spread under the great live oaks, joy on every countenance—the end of the Seven Years’ War. Because this old ante-bellum slave is a bright link, forging as it were, those olden days of warfare with the present, a few words of her individuality must interest.

Martha Jane, for so she was christened full ninety-five years ago when, a little shining black pickaninny, her birth was announced to the mistress of the old Carter plantation, is the true type of the old time loyal, quaintly courteous Bandanna Mammy of ante-bellum days. Leaving Richmond about 1839, she was brought to Florida with a shipload of slaves. Since that time her life has been a rugged and an eventful one—a servant for the wealthy, nursing the sick, sold again and again, hired out, and, since freedom, working for her daily bread.

This white haired relic of Old Virginia is worthy a place in the pages of history. She is old, decrepit and poor, the muscles of her once powerful arms are shrunken and her hands gnarled with the labor of years, but she has a memory as keen as when almost 80 years ago she watched the “stars fall” from the upper windows of the Old Swan Hotel in Richmond. She has kept pace with many points in history, particularly of the wars of the country.

As the old dame—a study in ebony—rocks back and forth in the creaking split-bottom chair, memory runs back to the imperial days of Virginia when the cavalier was supreme, and she the pampered nurse girl of the little mistress. She says, “Oh, dem was dream days. I hab nebber seed any days like ’em since. De mounfulest day I ebber seed was when dey took me from my mistress, for the sky was a drippin’ tears and de wind was a groanin’.”

“No, honey, dey ain’t stories ’bout dem Seminole war days, dey is de Lord’s blessed truf, what ole Marthy see wif dese same ole eyes.

“Oh, dem wuz high times! I reckelmember dat Krismas day jest like hit wuz yisterday; the sun wuz a shinin’ an’ de birds a singin’ (you see, de mokin’ birds didn’t sing while dat cruel war wuz a goin’ on) an’ ebbery body wuz a laughin’ an’ a talkin’ an’ de white ladies wuz a coquettin’ wif de sojers an’ dem Indians wuz as thick as hops an a laughin’ an’ a jabberin’ too.

MARTHA JANE, “BANDANNA MAMMY”

who cooked the Treaty dinner for General Worth in 1842. Now living in Kissimmee.

“When Colonel Worth see dem long tables settin’ under the big live oaks an’ see dem beeves an’ muttons an’ turkeys an’ deer we cooked, he jest natchelly laughed an’ say, ‘Clar ter goodness, what kin’ o’ Krismas doin’s is dis’; an’ how dem sojers an’ Indians did eat.

“How come I ter cook de treaty dinner?

“Well, I wuz livin’ out on ole Marse Watterson’ plantation, ’bout four miles from Fort King, dats to Ocala, now, you know, an’ Jim, dat wuz Colonel Worth’s servant, he ride out on dat big white horse o’ de Colonel’s an’ say ‘Colonel Worth want Marthy Jane ter cook de treaty dinner;’ so me an’ Diana Pyles an’ Lucinda Pyles cook dat dinner.

“Oh, Lordy, what scufflin’ roun’ an’ jumpin’ like chickens wif der heads off as we do dat day.

“All de sojers’ guns an’ de Indians’ guns, too, wuz stacked in dat garrison, an’ when de night come, dey make big camp fires an’ de white folks dance an’ de Indians wuz a dancin’ too, wif dem ole coutre (terrapin) shells a strapped ’roun’ der legs.

“Tell you ’bout Colonel Worth? He wuz de gem’men ob all dat crowd; he wuz de nobles’ lookin’ man an’ so kind an’ easy; de United States nebber would hab conquered dem Seminoles if dey had not induced Colonel Worth ter come down an’ argufy wif dem. Him an’ old Captain Holmes wuz de mos’ like our folks ob any ob dem big generals.

“Arter dey had all eat, an’ eat dem fine wituals we cook, den dey hab de speech makin’; oh, dat wuz high ’stronomy talk!

“I reckelmember jest like hit wuz to-day, me an’ Diana Pyles wuz a standin’ right inside de garrison an’ dat noble-lookin’ Colonel Worth wuz talkin’ kind an’ persuadin’ like ter dem savages an’ axin’ dem all ter come up an’ sign de treaty.

“You see dat treaty wuz foh dem ter quit fightin’ an’ go ter Arkansas.

“All dem chiefs walk up but two. Oh, Lordy mercy I kin jest see dat Sam Jones yit standin’ close ’side Colonel Worth. He wuz sut’n’ty a big Indian an’ could talk English good as we alls white folks.

“He jest look at de Colonel pizen like an’ I smell de trouble den, an’ he up an’ say, ‘My mother died heah, my father died heah, an’ be demned I die heah; yo-ho-ee, hee-ee!’

“How dat Indian could gib dat war whoop; an’ he walk right ober yonder ter dat big stack ob guns an’ take his rifle an’ ebbery Indian ob his band follow’ ’m an’ dey walk out ob dat garrison as easy as a cat arter a mouse.

“Colonel Worth did look so peaked, but twan’t no use, foh he couldn’t stop dese chiefs; he hab gib dem the promise dat if dey would all come in he would treat ’em all right.

“Dem wuz cruel days,” and old Martha Jane quivered with indignation as she brought her fat hand down upon her knee. “But hit wasn’t de Indians’ fault. No man what hab a gun is gwine ter let somebody steal the cattle an’ horses, an’ dat jest what de white people do ter de Seminoles.

“Lord a mercy, I hab seed Paynes’ Prairie covered wif de cattle an’ horses dat ’longed ter de Indians, an’ de white rapscallions would carry ’em off a hundred at a time. Umph! I heah ’em brag how dey carry off de Indians’ horses. Ole Thorpe Roberts he wuz a ole fief. He would say, ‘We make many a good haul ob dem savages’ cattle, ten ob us come in at onct an’ drive off a thousan’ head.’

“Yes, Mistis, dat ole Seminole war make a heap o’ white folks rich in Florida.

“Oh, Lord hab mercy on all dem souls. Dey wuz hard times, times o’ misery, chile, but de Indians wuzn’t ter blame. God make ’em an’ dey hab ter hab a place ter stay, jest same as we alls white folks.

“De white people bring all dat ’struction on der own heads foh dey commence dat war. I see hit wif my own eyes; I see ’em kill de Indians’ slaves. You see de Seminoles hab slaves jest de same as white folks, an’ some ob der niggers wuz as fine-lookin’ black men as you ebber ’spect ter see in Ole Virginia.

“When de Indians would come ’roun’ ter esquire ’bout der cattle de white rapscallions (an’ a heap o’ dem wuz dem low down nigger traders too) dem white men would up an’ shoot de Indians.

“Lordy chile, when I gits ter ruminatin’ ’bout dem days I sees de longes’ line o’ haunts whats obtained in dis world o’ sin an’ sorrow.”

I laid down my tablet and looked up; the old woman’s lip was quivering from suppressed emotion. Passing over the tragic she began again.

“No, chile, ’xcusin’ ob de truf, de United States nebber whipped de Seminoles; she whipped dem Britishers when George Washington wuz de captain, an’ de Mexicans, den she tuck a little ’xcursion ’cross ter Cuba an’ whipped dem Spaniards; but she nebber whipped the Seminoles. Umph; where wuz de Indians when de sojers wuz all shinin’ in dem new uniforms an’ der ammunition all packed up? Dem savages wuz all gone, hidin’ in dem hammocks an’ swamps what wuz so thick wif trees an’ bushes dat a black snake could skacely wiggle through.

“De sojers would go marchin’ ’long an’ way up in de tops ob some ob dem big trees some ob dem sly ole Indian scouts would be sittin’ wifout any clothes on, a watchin’ an’ a laughin’ at de sojers.”

“You want ter heah ’bout dat battle o’ Micanopy?

“De Seminoles didn’t hab no battles like dem Britishers in George Washington times; no chile, but dey hab scrummages an’ kill de white people jest like dey wuz black birds,” and the old negress, seemingly oblivious to the fact that cruel time has bowed her frame and dimmed the once bright eye, lives over again the story of those days so long ago, when she was the pampered slave of the old aristocracy.

“How come I ter see dat big fight, I b’longed ter Marster Mundane; de Mundane fambly wuz powerful rich and owned the big hotel where the officers wuz stayin’.

“Der warn’t no Indians ’roun’ der jest den, an’ ebbery thing wuz peaceful an’ quiet, an’ I heah de sojers a jokin’ an’ sayin’ day wuz jest a spendin’ de winter in de Sunny South an’ de Governmen’ wuz payin’ de grub bills.

“I reckelmember jest like I am tellin’ you ter day, I wuz standin’ on dat big piazza ’side o’ Missus; you know I wuz riz up ter be ’roun’ white folks, foh I wuz allus so peart dat my ole Missus in Virginia would call me in ter de parlor ter show me off ter de white ladies.

“Well, honey, dis mornin’ de sojers wuz a cleanin’ der guns an’ laughin’ an’ dey ax Mistis, ‘How many deer you want foh dinner?’ Den anudder likely young sojer would say, ‘How many turkeys you want, Mistress Mundane?’ an’ den dey went off a whistlin’ an’ a singin’; but oh, my God, what lamentations der wuz dat same night.

“Twan’t long will I heah, bang—bang—bang, an’ I says ter myself, Marthy Jane, too many deer, too many wild turkey, sound ter me like Indian shootin’; ’spect dem rapscallions sneak up on de sojers, an’ dis black chile gwine ter see foh herself. I jest slipped out o’ de house an’ kachunk! kachunk! I went down that big lane as fas’ as a horse can trot till I come ter de prairie an’ den I clumb in ter a big oak tree, den de nex’ thing I do I wrap dat gray moss ’roun’ me so dem debbils couldn’t see me.

“How dem Indians did shoot! If dat sight didn’t beat de lan’! Zipp—zipp—bang—bang, an’ ebbery time dey shoot dey yell like debbils, yo-ho-e-hee-eee bang, den fall on de groun’ an’ load dat musket, stan’ up an’ shoot again; de sojers a droppin’ ebbery time a Indian shoot.

“De sojers wuz so skeered dey couldn’t load der guns when de Indians would gib dat Satan screech.

“An’ den de poor sojers jest dropped guns an’ run in ter de lake an’ de woods an’ dem savages would go an’ take de guns an’ de ammunition offen de dead bodies an’ den go runnin’ like a deer.

“Lord a mercy, hit seems ter me I heah de wind blowin’ ghosts an’ de sperits ob de brave gem’men what wuz killed on dat field ebbery time I talks ’bout dat day.

“Yes, Mistis, dat scrummage wuz called de battle ob Payne’s Prairie. When de Colonel found out de Indians killed so many ob de sojers, he tore roun’ like a wild bear an’ clar ’foh de Almighty dat he wuz gwine ter sen’ off an’ fetch de whole United States troops ter come down an’ kill ebbery Indian in Florida.

“But what good wuz all dat big talk; dey hab two regimen’s stayin’ der den, and ’foh dey could git outen de garrison de sly ole Indians wuz all gone an’ didn’t leave a track behin’ dem, nuther.

“Dem wuz days ob ’struction, ter be shure! but dey mought ha’ knowed dat war wuz a comin’, kase Daddy Charles see dem divisions in Virginia an’ tell de white people great ’struction ob war wuz a comin’, he tell dem dat hit gwine ter wrestle wif a foreign country, an’ den ’sides de divisions, de wild pigeons come an’ dey wuz so thick you couldn’t see de trees and de slaves kill ’em wif der hoe handles in de corn field.

“Yes, dat big Seminole war did come,” said Martha Jane triumphantly, “jest like dat ole saint o’ black man tole de people.

“I ain’t nebber seed no lonesomer place like dat Payne’s Prairie from dat day ter dis arter dey hab dat skirmishin’.

“I see de folks lyin’ on de grass an’ de tall grass blowin’ backards and forrerds, but dem sojers nebber move. Den de men come an’ carry ’em ter de hospital. I shrouded so many dat night dat I got hardened jest like a dog wifout a soul.

“Colonel Whisler, he wuz a Yankee man, he sayd, ‘Marthy Jane, you orter hab been a man, you is so nervy.’ Dat why I can’t eat hominy ter dis day, I make so many poultices endurin’ ob de war ter draw out de bullets; dey didn’t hab dem pizen balls o’ Satan like dey do in dese regenerate days since surrender.

“Arter dem scanlous time, Colonel Worth an’ Colonel Whisler ’cided dat dey mus’ go ter Fort Myers to see how dem scrummagers wuz goin’ on down dat way.

“De headquarter men ’low dey mighty nigh perish’d foh sumptin’ good ter eat an’ tell ole Mistis dey ’bliged ter hab me go ’long ter do de cookin’. Colonel Whisler wuz one ob dese kind o’ captains what want his coffee hot an’ all de victuals on de jump.

“Dem wuz high camp-meetin’ times all de way. In dem days de game wuz powerful plentiful, an’ dem victuals I cooked wuz a plum sight; deer, wild turkey an’ ducks wuz a flyin’ wherebber der wuz a pond o’ water. Um-um-m, didn’t I cook ’em de fine victuals.

“Colonel Worth ’cided dey couldn’t kill de Indians so he say he would jest campaign along an’ destroy all der crops an’ burn der houses; he ’lowed dat wuz better dan shootin’ dem; an’ oh Lordy, didn’t we eat de corn an’ watermelons dem Indians raise.

“We march an’ we stop, an’ we march an’ we stop, till hit wuz de Lord’s blessin’ dat we hab so many horses an’ wagons.

“Oh, dem long wagon trains, wif sojers betwixt, sojers in front an’ sojers behind.

“You see, de officers hab der wives along an’ some mighty fine white ladies what wuz a visitin’ at de garrison. Dem wuz shure camp-meetin’ days.

“Ole Billy Daniels an’ old man Strafford, dey wuz along too; dey wuz ole men den. I ’spect dey both dead afoh now.”

“I wuzn’t anyways skeery, but we sut’n’ty wuz a long way from ole Mistress, mighty nigh two hundred miles.

“Arter all dat camp-meetin’ frolickin’ Colonel Worth ’cided he would come back ter Fort King an’ leave de sojers ter keep on destroyin’ at Fort Myers.

“Billy Daniels wuz obliged to ’scort us back, kase he is de man what drawed de map of Florida an’ put all de lakes an’ islan’s in foh Colonel Worth. He couldn’t read, nuther write, but he could ’cite de Seminole language like he hab book learnin’; he wuz de interpreter foh Colonel Worth too.

“Hit sut’n’ty wuz scrumagen’ times arter me an’ Diana Pyles cooked dat treaty dinner foh Colonel Worth.

“Mos’ generally de troops went a troopin’ north, but dey lef’ some ob de sassiest white men I ebber see top o’ earth ter guard de State; low down white rapscallions.

“You see, hit wuz dis away, terrectly dey fin’ out de Indians wuz all gone south dey make up dat dey bes’ skeer our people so de United States would keep payin’ dem government money.

“No, Mistis, hit wuzn’t de Indians dat did de skirmishin,’ hit wuz de white rapscallions what wuz hankerin’ foh dem government rations.

“Our people wuz rich den wif de big sugar plantations an’ cotton fields an’ a heap o’ slaves an’ cattle an’ horses; our folks didn’t want no war, but hit wuz de poor white people dat rousted ’roun’ at night an’ kill de cattle an’ put moccasins on der ole foots, what look as rough as alligators’ hides, den dey go an’ make tracks all roun’ like a hundred Indians been a spyin’. Hit sholy did skeer our people, but twan’t de Seminoles, kase de Indian is a debbil, but he ain’t gwine ter stay ’roun’ Fort King when he done promise Colonel Worth he gwine go ’way.

“Dem white men keep up dat debbilment till de United States find out ’bout hit, an’ she say if dey any moh o’ dat meanness foun’ out dat dey will hang ebbery rapscallion what prowlin’ ’roun’ we alls white folks houses.”