Читать книгу Black Creek - Paul Varnes - Страница 6

It was a hot afternoon and we were crossing the St. Marys River from Camden County, Georgia, into Spanish Florida. The Spanish forces then trying to control Florida would not cordially welcome us. It was they and the English who had armed the Seminoles we were chasing.

The English and Spanish governments were not in collusion. The English had armed the Seminoles and encouraged them to raid and kill white Americans during the War of 1812. Spain, weakened militarily over the years, in 1817 was allowing, even encouraging, the Seminoles to raid from Florida into the United States. Unable to defend Florida and the rest of their vast empire, the Spanish were using the Indians in Florida to help protect Spain’s rights to those lands. The Indians thought they were only defending their own rights.

It was no secret that Congress, in 1811, had authorized James Madison to begin the takeover of Florida. This resulted in an invasion, which seized Fernandina. When the initial force of about eighty men got into trouble, Colonel Daniel Newman went to the rescue with 120 Georgia Militiamen. Newman planned to attack Chief King Payne at Payne’s Town, destroy all he could not carry, and return with cattle, horses, and runaway slaves. Payne, the Indian leader, was said to have over a thousand cattle, four hundred horses, and a score of black slaves of his own. As a way of encouraging the Seminoles to fight, the Spanish told them the invaders planned to take the Seminoles’ land and keep it.

Even though the attack on Payne’s Town caught the Seminoles by surprise, it soon became a failure. Outnumbered by more than two to one by the Indians and blacks that Payne gathered, Newman was forced to withdraw. While he lost twenty-five percent of his force, they were lucky they were not all killed. Having used up most of their ammunition and with King Payne wounded, the Seminole and black forces did not continue the counterattack. When the word got out about the defeat of Newman, other units were raised and the fighting and raiding only escalated from there. It had been going on ever since.

My Pa, Isaac Senior, was an official member of the hundred-strong company that was in pursuit of the Seminoles. Pa was recruited to scout for Major Bailey. I was only there because Pa let me go. My name is Isaac, too, though Pa just called me Boy most of the time. Ma called me I. J. or just I., depending on the kind of message she wished to convey. Being sixteen years old at the time, I was big enough. Also, I could track and shoot with the best of them.

Though Ma didn’t like it any that I went, she didn’t put up a fuss. We had been having so much trouble from raiding Indians that she would be glad to be rid of them even if it meant that I went with Pa on the campaign.

Less than half of the unit was mounted. Pa and I were mounted on two Spanish-bred mares that he bought in St. Augustine a couple of years earlier. Having been through the area before on the trip to trade with the Spanish, Pa knew the area well. That, and the fact that we were better mounted and armed than most, caused Major Bailey to have Pa and me out front to prevent an ambush.

This was my first time at attacking an enemy. I had been in plenty of fights with the Indians, but it was always them raiding us and us fighting them off. It seemed a little scary at first, us being exposed and subject to an ambush. Before, we had been fighting from inside the cabin or from behind a wagon.

At thirty-seven years old, Pa was a veteran of a number of military operations. He and several hundred other Georgia men fought with Major General Andrew Jackson’s Tennessee Volunteers when Jackson defeated the Red Stick Creeks at the Battle of Horseshoe Bend in 1814. That battle was fought on the Tallapoosey River in Alabama. The way Pa told it, the Tallapoosey had a bend that resembled a horseshoe. Protected on each flank by the river, the Indian’s breastwork stretched three hundred yards and closed off the three hundred acres inside the horseshoe. General Jackson’s army stormed the Indian’s breastwork and broke through it.

General Coffe’s army had formed a line at the bend of the horseshoe across the river from the Indians so the Indians couldn’t cross the river and escape. Over a thousand Indians were killed in that battle. The Upper Creek Nation then asked for unconditional peace. Interestingly, the Lower Creek Indians fought on Jackson’s side in the Creek Indian War. One group of Indians or another fought on our side in every war the United States fought. That holds true even when we were fighting some of their relatives. If they had agreed to band together to fight, things might have turned out better for the Indians. Pa said the treaty the Upper Creeks were forced to sign was so merciless that they soon broke it. Following the battle of Horseshoe Bend and the Indians’ breaking of the treaty, lots of the Upper Creeks started moving to Florida. After the Creek War was over, Pa then helped General Jackson whip the British. Me being only thirteen years old at the end of that war, Pa hadn’t let me go on those trips.

Pa, Ma, my younger brothers, and me had fought off the Indian raids before, Pa and I had never followed them with a large force into East Florida. While we hadn’t, others had. The Indians had been raiding north of Florida for years. Likewise, white Americans had been raiding Indian towns in Florida, taking their horses and cattle, trying to capture runaway slaves, and taking the Indians’ own slaves. Pa had been involved in some of that. Not having any slaves, we hadn’t lost any, however. The Indians had stolen some of our cattle, though. Some of our cattle were in the herd the Seminoles were driving ahead of us. We were hoping to get our animals back and to hit the Indians with such a blow that they would be discouraged from returning to Georgia on a raid.

We didn’t expect any trouble from the Spaniards. They had enough trouble without bothering with us. As we were crossing the St. Marys River a Scot named Gregor MacGregor was solidifying his hold on Fernandina, Florida, which he had just captured from the Spanish. Pirates, smugglers, other riffraff, and the taking of land by white Americans were other problems the Spaniards had to deal with. They had not been able to deal effectively with any of those problems.

The tracks we were following were fresh. There were still damp spots where they came out of the river when they crossed ahead of us. There was just Pa and me on the south side of the river. Our people were still on the north side waiting for us to signal that the Indians had moved on. Pa soon waved for them to cross and we moved ahead to scout.

There were no houses, no people, and no sign of anyone ever having lived in the area through which we passed. It was a true wilderness. Once we got out of the river swamp we were in an area where the vegetation consisted of huge pine trees, five to ten to the acre, and low bush palmettos. There was also lots of swamp and pond areas but the Indians avoided those. We did also in following their trail.

With dark approaching, Major Bailey called a halt so we could set up camp before dark. He ordered that there be no campfires so as not to alert the Indians that we were following them. As soon as the camp was settled in, Pa and I went forward as scouts again. Our task was to locate the Seminole camp and guide Bailey’s outfit forward to attack them in camp if possible. We traveled on foot because our horses had worked hard that day and needed the rest.

Traveling on foot at night without a light bothered me some. Having lived most of my life in south Georgia, I was well aware of all the various things one might step on—rattlers, cottonmouth moccasins, copperheads, gators, and various kinds of varmints. One might even blunder into a panther or a mother bear ready to defend her cubs. We usually had a torch, lamp, or candle when we were hunting at night. Or we just sat around a campfire and listened to the dogs run. We couldn’t possibly have a light that night, though.

In little more than an hour we located the Indians’ camp. Indians don’t make a very big campfire and theirs had burned down to red coals when we found them. The fire wasn’t giving off enough light to give their location away until someone got in close, but the smell of wood smoke was strong from a mile away. We didn’t try to get in too close at first because they would almost certainly have outriders holding the cattle. The herd was too big to build a temporary pen for. They wouldn’t have any guards out other than those holding the cattle, though. At that time the Indians had never been known to initiate an attack at night. They also didn’t post guards at their own encampments at night. They were just as aware as I was of the dangers lurking in the night. Thinking that only a fool would wander around at night without a torch, the Indians, I guess, considered the dangerous animals to be their guards.

As we squatted downwind, a hundred yards from the nearest Indians, Pa whispered, “We best circle their camp and check out the terrain. The major will be asking about that.”

His speaking made me realize we hadn’t spoken in the last hour. Not having any reason to speak, I stood and followed Pa.

A sliver of moon caused every bush to look like a Seminole as we circled the camp and herd. Riding slowly, four mounted Indians circled the herd to keep it in place. The constant hum of crickets chirping and frogs croaking drowned out the sound of their horses’ hooves on the ground as the riders circled the herd. Those noises also covered any slight sound we made. Once we crouched behind a bush and another time we lay behind a log as a rider went by. We both had rubbed dirt on our faces and hands to dull the glow from them.

I’m sure Pa was seeing everything and making mental notes to report back to the colonel. I was just trying to stay invisible and cover Pa’s back. Our reconnaissance complete, we then headed for our camp. Traveling was easier going back to camp. On the return trip, we knew the hostiles were behind us and we moved with less caution.

It was after ten P.M. when we got back to camp and Pa whistled us in. I sure was glad Pa hadn’t sent me back alone. In spite of the moonlight, when he stopped to whistle us in, I didn’t even know we were near the camp. I had been lost for the last hour. The moon was up during our return, which was good for giving us direction, but it sure made things look different.

At the distance our camp was from the hostiles, it was safe to light a candle. Pa then gave his report and drew the positions of the Indian camp in the sand by candlelight.

Pa said, “There’s over thirty of them, four miles south of here. They have four riders circling the cattle and have some horses in a rope-and-brush corral. From past experience, I would guess that each warrior also has a horse staked out near where he’s sleeping. The horse pen and cattle herd is on the south side of their camp so the Indians are between the animals and us. There’s a thick, deep pond to the east of them. It’s so thick they can’t go that way on horseback. We also can’t approach from that way without them knowing. To the south, west, and north of them is open woods.”

Major Bailey said, “You were there and saw the lay of the land. How would you suggest we handle this?”

Pa said, “It’s tough. Except for posting guards, whoever’s in charge there knows what he’s doing. It’s a good thing we’ve got a hundred men. Our best bet might be to get there before light and get in close with most of our men on foot. We should also have a dozen mounted men work their way to the south of the herd. Their job will be to stampede the horses and cattle. The boy,” he pointed at me, “can lead that bunch. He knows the layout of the place. We can also work six men in close on foot and try to take out the herd riders at the first shooting. Those six can then help tear down the stick-and-rope corral holding the horses. If we start shooting and stampede the horses and cattle to the west, I think the Indians will try to follow the herd and turn them. Or, when they see we have them out-gunned, they might make a break to the south. With that in mind, we could send thirty men on foot with the twelve riders. They could set up behind trees and take the Seminoles on if some of them go that way. We would also set up with thirty-five men on the west side. That would leave a dozen to approach from the north on horseback and start the thing. I don’t think the Indians would go north and overrun those twelve, especially if those twelve open up as soon as the herd riders are fired on.”

I was so proud of Pa that my heart was all up in my throat. He didn’t usually say many words but he always said lots when he talked. I was also proud he would name me to lead the charge at the herd.

The major said, “That’s how we’ll do it.” Looking at me he said, “Boy, when you get the herd away from the camp, turn it north and keep it running. Don’t slow down until you hit the river. And don’t stop until you’re on the other side of the river. Stop the herd there and defend the river bank if necessary.”

Turning to Sergeant Hunter, the major continued, “You and your men all have mounts. You go with the boy.”

Major Bailey then made the other assignments. He didn’t have to explain much, all of the corporals, sergeants, and lieutenants were gathered around watching Pa all the time and listening.

Pa and I then threw our blanket over us to keep the mosquitoes off and slept for four hours. We were under way by three A.M. As we traveled, I realized I could have gone alone without getting lost that time. It must have been the trip there and back with Pa, and traveling at night with a sliver of moon, that made the difference in my being able to orient myself. We did some night hunting at home, of course, but it was always in an area I knew. This was different. Still, I knew I would never be lost in these woods again. Learning to use the moon and stars, I might never be lost again, anywhere. Getting over the snakes, gators, and other creatures of the night was another thing entirely. It felt a lot safer at night while riding a horse.

As we traveled, the realization came to me that nothing had been said about the slaves the Indians had stolen. There were at least a dozen. If the Seminoles had guns for them, we could be facing forty or forty-five guns. Seminoles were known to pamper their slaves, so they might have guns. Usually not concerned with commerce, the Indians only required their slaves to plant and gather enough to eat. After a period of time, the Indians’ slaves would then build their own houses and plant their own farms near the Indians. When the slaves gathered their crop, or killed some food, they would carry a portion to their Indian master. Thus, the slaves actually became sharecroppers. The Indians also armed their slaves and sent them hunting. The slaves then fought on the Seminoles’ side when there was a conflict. Some Seminoles also took slaves as a mate. Theirs was a relaxed, even leisurely, life. Not many slaves ever tried to escape from the Indians.

It was about that time that Pa spoke to me. “Are you thinking about the fight, Boy?”

“No, sir. I was thinking about the slaves with the Indians.”

“You keep your mind on the fight. You can get yourself or someone else killed by letting your mind wander.”

“Yes, sir.”

It wasn’t something Pa had to tell me again, ever.

By a quarter past four, Pa and the men on the west and north sides of the Indian camp were sneaking up on it. The eleven riders and thirty men on foot with me were making a big circle to the west in order to come up on the south side of the herd. Under the protection of four men, the balance of the horses were left a half-mile north of the Indian camp.

By five, we twelve riders were in position two hundred yards south of the horse herd. The thirty men on foot with us slipped to within sixty yards of the Indian’s cattle herd. We held the horses a couple of hundred yards away from their horse pen so ours wouldn’t whinny at the Indian’s horses. I circulated among the men and explained exactly where the Indian’s cattle and horse herd was, and assigned six men to start the cattle running. The other six of us were to get the horses out of their temporary corral and get them to running after the cattle.

When it was light enough to see individual pine straws against the clear sky, we mounted and walked our horses toward where the Indian’s horses and cattle were. It was still too dark to see the cattle, horses, or their Indian guards at that distance. We could see some movement around the campfire where some cooking was being done. I was hoping those assigned to take out the herd guards would do most of that job. If they didn’t, it would fall to us to finish.

We were still a hundred yards from the herds when the first shooting started. I later learned it was the Indian nightriders being shot at and returning fire. In a line of twelve abreast, we kicked our horses into a run and within seconds passed through our line of thirty men who had taken positions behind trees and brush and were firing at targets of opportunity. Within ten more seconds, the designated six men had the cattle herd stampeding northwest. The other six of us were tearing down the temporary corral and getting the horses to running, and getting shot at some.

It seemed that mounted Indians were everywhere. Each Indian must have been sleeping with a pony by his side. The Indians’ musket fire was mostly ineffective. Some of them were not even shooting. They probably hadn’t had enough time to check the priming in the flash-pan of their weapons. With gunfire all around us we finally got the horses out of the pen and running. After the rope and stick fence was down, my mare was almost at a full run as I swung aboard. In a hail of gunfire we passed through the positions of our force on the west side of the Indians’ camp. We soon got the horse herd turned north behind the cattle.

Within four minutes we were a mile from the Indian camp. The sound of gunfire was thinning some and growing dim. It was a wild ride but we were at the river in fifteen minutes. There, the herd slowed as they crossed. We stopped them a quarter of a mile past the river.

Riding up to Sergeant Hunter, I said, “Sergeant, the major didn’t say, but you best take seven men and defend the river crossing against pursuit. I’ll take the other three men and hold the herd here. It’ll be easy. They’re about tuckered out.”

Without responding, the sergeant called out the names of the men to stay with me. He then left for the river. That’s how we were situated when Pa and the main force arrived just before noon and set up camp there. They had already buried one of ours and we had a couple of wounded to care for.

Though everyone was talking about it, when things had settled some and we were alone, I said to Pa, “Tell me about the fight.”

He said, “Not much to tell. You boys swooped in on your horses yelling and like to have scared all the Indians to death. There wasn’t much for the rest of us to do.”

Then he smiled and said, “They came after you and the horses and ran straight into thirty-five guns. They then turned south and ran into the thirty there. We got hurt some but not near as bad as them. Eight or ten of them got through on their horses. Some abandoned their horses and went in the swamp to the east on foot. We got the horses that they left when they went into the swamp, and those from the dead and seriously wounded. You did a fine job, Boy. I’m proud of you.”

I didn’t ask about the slaves because I could see they had brought eight with them. They were all women and children.

Pa asked, “Did you shoot either of your guns?”

We both carried a rifle and a short-barreled musket.

Hanging my head, I said, “No, sir. I was pretty busy.”

He said, “Yes, I could see you were. I just asked in order to make sure you cleaned them if you had shot them.”

We had been in camp for a couple of hours caring for our wounded when Major Bailey called a meeting.

He said, “Men, we all know the raiding party we just whipped was some of those from south of Payne’s Town. Old Chief King Payne died not long after he was wounded in General Newman’s attack six years back. Still, these Indians were some of his. We’ve done our job in getting the animals and most of the slaves, but I think we should do more. Knowing where these were from, I think we should follow them and hit their settlement while we’ve got them thinned down and disorganized. What I’m proposing is a raid with fifty mounted men. We’ll hit and run, taking what food, horses, cattle, and runaways we can. The rest of you will take our wounded and the livestock home and give a report to each family.”

Speaking to Pa, he said, “Isaac, I hope you’ll go. You know the country better than most.”

Pa said, “I’ll go. And the boy will. Someone will need to drive our livestock home and tell our family. How long should we plan for?”

Major Bailey said, “Six days at the most. We won’t stay around long enough for them to gather a force against us.”

There was lots of talk after that. The major had to pick and choose because more than fifty wanted to go. I noticed that Sergeant Hunter was chosen. I liked him. He had treated me like an adult since we took back the livestock. He even called me by my name.

We left the next morning, riding south. Looking for tracks and other sign, Pa and I were out front about a hundred yards. The major also had outriders to his flanks to prevent a possible ambush.

South of where we fought the battle, we picked up the trail of the reassembled raiding party. They had returned to the battle site and cared for their dead and were then traveling south. They seemed to be returning to their village. There were about twenty of them. Some were riding double and five or six were walking. They were short on horses. In addition to recovering the horses they had stolen from us, we also had taken eighteen of their horses. The tracks were most of a day old so we moved along quickly. Pa and I were soon almost a mile in front of the major’s party. We didn’t figure the Indians would stop, but in case they did, we didn’t want the whole force to blunder into them.

Shortly before midday we turned back to meet Major Bailey. When we met him, Pa said, “We’ve scouted most of a mile ahead, I would suggest we stop here and cook enough for noon and night. That way we can run a cold camp tonight. We’ll then have no fire or wood smoke to give us away.”

The major gave the orders. He then sent two men out a hundred yards in each of four directions to act as pickets.

Thirty minutes before the others broke noon camp, Pa and I left. We had switched to fresh horses. Because we had lots of horses from those recaptured and the Indian horses we had taken, and because we would be riding more than the others would, we each had brought a spare. Covering lots more ground, and quicker than the others, Pa and I needed extra horses. Pa and I were soon ranging up to a mile in front of the major’s party. The Indians we were following obviously knew the country well and were taking a route that avoided contact with anyone. That also kept us out of contact with anyone, which was fine with us.

It really wasn’t hard to avoid contact with other people. There were not many people in Florida. The few that were there were located mostly on rivers or the coast. The territory was so thinly populated that, unless you knew where they were, you might have ridden for weeks without seeing anyone. Pa had been through this country before but over closer to the coast. From conversations he had, and from drawings in the sand during those conversations, Pa had a pretty good idea about where we were going. In addition to farming, Pa pulled a chain on a survey crew, did blacksmith work, and was a wheelwright. Due to his interest and inquisitive nature, Pa was always gathering information about places that could be of use in the future. He would squat and talk, and draw maps in the sand by the hour when he met someone who had been places he had not been. I’ll bet he knew more about Florida than anyone else except the Indians.

Having scouted over a mile ahead, we turned back thirty minutes before dark to meet the major.

Though we were running a cold camp that night, the men sat around and talked in small groups. Most of them didn’t go to sleep until eight or nine that night. Mostly they talked about being raided by the Indians or of raids on the Indians. Like Pa, lots of the men had fought the Red Sticks, the Upper Creek Indians. That war was brought on when the Red Sticks attacked Fort Mims in Alabama. The Red Sticks killed over five hundred white people there in 1813. The Creek Indian War then lasted until 1814 when Andrew Jackson, with a large white army and a couple hundred Lower Creek Indians, killed over a thousand of the Upper Creeks at Horseshoe Bend in Alabama. I moved from group to group and heard various versions of the battles that occurred during the Creek Indian War. There were lots of tales about battles against Billy Bowlegs, Josiah Frances, King Payne, and other Creek and Miccosukee chiefs.

A couple of men were giving different versions of an attack by Colonel Clinch on the Negro fort on the Apalachicola River. As Colonel Clinch was moving in to attack the fort, which was holding up shipments of supplies along the river, a round from a gunboat hit the powder supply in the fort. Almost all the three hundred people in the fort were killed in the explosion that followed. Thus, there was no real battle there.

I stayed up and listened to stories until the last of the men turned in.

Pa and I were mounted and rode out at first light the next morning. The Indian tracks were still evident as we rode. The worst part about riding alone, or with only a couple of riders, during the summer was the number of yellow flies, deer flies, and horse flies that gathered to us and the horses as we rode through the woods. It wasn’t so bad when riding with a large group because there were lots of people and horses for the flies to bite other than my horse or me. We saw no hostiles, however. By mid-morning we came to the forks of a wide and deep creek.

Pa said, “This has to be the forks of Black Creek. I’ve heard it described. It’s deeper than the St. Johns River into which it flows. Oceangoing ships could come up this creek to this point.”

Driving a stake in the ground, he added, “I’m going to move our family here someday. Spain can’t hang on to Florida much longer, even with the Seminoles’ help. I’ll bet there aren’t more than eight hundred Spaniards in the Florida Territory anyway. If all of it’s like St. Augustine, there are as many Italians and French here as there are Spaniards. The only requirement the Spanish have for anyone to live in Florida is that they have to be Catholic. Also, the Indians don’t own it. They just moved in from Georgia and Alabama over the last few years. I’m betting Andy Jackson takes all of Florida sooner or later. We’ll just go ahead and take us a piece of it before he takes the whole place. This is some of the best soil I’ve ever seen. We’ll build docks on the creek and warehouses next to the docks. And we’ll plant orchards and farm.”

I figured that if Pa said it, he would do it.

From there, the tracks we were following swung slightly west, and we were traveling just a little south of southwest. Figuring we were getting close to the Indian village, we slowed some and traveled with caution. At full dark we still hadn’t closed on the hostiles or found their village.

In a cold camp that night, the major said to Pa, “Isaac, I think we’re close. Since we’ve been traveling in a straight line for some time, how about you and the boy going straight ahead and see if you can find them in the next few hours. If you haven’t found the village within three hours, come on back. Or, if you find them, come back and get us. I’ll have the men in their bedrolls by seven to get some rest. If you find them, we’ll hit them at daybreak.”

Pa said, “Okay. I’ll need to take a third man. He and the boy can come back while I watch the village. Sergeant Hunter is a good man.”

I had spoken to Pa about Hunter and was proud that Pa agreed with my judgment, though he probably already knew more about Hunter than I did. They didn’t live far from us.

The sliver of moon was bigger than it was two nights before and gave enough light for easy traveling in the open woods. Since the moon was pretty high, the moonlight wouldn’t last but a few hours so I studied the stars as we rode. I would need to know where I was going if Pa sent me back. After riding at a fast walk for an hour and a half, we heard a dog bark in the distance.

Pa said, “That’s a yard dog barking. It’s probably the village we’re looking for.”

If you’ve heard it enough, it’s easy to tell the difference between the bark of a dog that’s chasing an animal and a dog that’s sounding an alarm around the house. They’re two completely different kinds of bark. We then turned toward the sound. At two hundred yards from where the barking dog was, we dismounted and tethered our horses. We were downwind and the smell of wood smoke was strong. The dog soon quit barking and we began to work our way forward on foot. As we advanced it became apparent that this was a permanent Indian town. The town and cleared fields covered several acres.

After creeping around for some time and looking, Pa tapped Sergeant Hunter and me on the shoulder and pointed toward our horses.

Arriving at the horses, Pa said, “You two go back and bring the major. I’m going to ease around some and get a better feel for the layout of the place. One can move more quietly than two or three. Can you find the place we were when we first heard the dog bark?”

Both of us said we could.

“I’ll meet you there an hour before daylight.”

Sergeant Hunter and I then mounted and left.

I said to the sergeant, “Let’s ride back to where we first heard the dog so we can identify some landmarks.”

He said, “That’s a good idea.”

It took slightly more than an hour to make the return trip to our main camp. Having been through the area previously, we knew it was clear of hostiles so we made better time.

It was almost eleven P.M. when we finished making our report and answering questions for the major. We then pulled our blankets over the exposed parts of our bodies and slept until three A.M. It seemed like only ten minutes had passed when I felt Sergeant Hunter’s hand on my shoulder.

He said, “It wasn’t a very long night was it, Isaac?”

I said, “No, sir, it wasn’t.”

The other men had already been up for thirty minutes and were about ready to pull out. In ten minutes I had a fresh horse saddled and was ready.

The major said, “Jacob”—that’s Sergeant Hunter’s first name—“I want you to lead off. Travel at a walk and stop every so often to give everyone a chance to close up.”

Turning to me, the major said, “Isaac, I want you to be the last person in line. If the line gets separated, you can get the stragglers to the right place.”

It was the first time he had called me anything but Boy and I couldn’t help but feel a flush of pride at that, and at being given the responsibility, though I don’t know who else could have done it.

The moon having already set, we were then guided by the stars and by the landmarks Sergeant Hunter and I had picked out. Even with the lack of light, it was an uneventful trip. There were no stragglers and no one got lost. We arrived at the designated place at five in the morning. I was too far back to hear what he said as Pa spoke to the major from the darkness. The major then passed the word back for all the corporals, sergeants, and lieutenants to come forward. I went forward with them. There in the dark, Pa gave his report to the eight of us.

Pa said, “The best I can make out, there are twenty dwellings. Counting men, women, and children, there’s close to a hundred people. There’s not much in the way of guards. I didn’t see any. There are some dogs though. As soon as they hear us, they’ll raise a racket. Counting those from the raiding party, we know there could be more than twenty braves here. There are some boys and old men who were not on the raid. They’ll also try to put up a fight. There’s not much of a horse herd—twenty-five or so—and some staked out, or stabled, close to various dwellings.”

Major Bailey said, “How do you think we ought to do it?”

Pa said, “Depends on what you want to get done. If you just want the horses and cattle, we can make a sweep from two sides on horseback and get most of them. If you want to do damage to their fighting ability, and their ability to pursue us or raid in the future, we probably need some people on foot and on horseback.”

The major said, “We want to do both of those. We also need to scavenge for food for us and our horses.”

Pa said, “That means taking the village and holding it for an hour or so. I would suggest a sweep through the village with twenty-five men on horseback, followed by twenty-one men on foot. That leaves four men to hold and protect the spare horses. Once through the village, the men on horseback, minus four to move the horses and cattle they gather a little further, would reload and sweep back through to the men on foot.”

The major said, “We’ll do it. We’ll play it by ear from there. I want you people to make it clear to everyone that they are only to shoot fighting people—no women or small kids. Though they kill ours sometimes, I don’t think it’s right. Also, there’s a better reason. If you shoot a noncombatant, you’ll be standing there with an empty gun for someone with a gun to shoot you. We want to make every shot count.”

Pa and I were with the mounted group. It was breaking daylight and we were on the move, seventy-five yards from the first dwelling, when their dogs started barking. We kicked our horses into a run and our men on foot broke into a run toward the village. As we rode into the village, heads started popping out of doors. Further across the village people started running toward the woods. Some tried to mount their horses and ride off. Very few succeeded. We shot some, and took their horses; and took the horses that were staked out or penned. We were almost through the village and my horse was at a full run when an Indian boy, who was younger than I was, stepped out from behind a house and let fly at me with an arrow that missed. I was past him before I could get my horse stopped and pulled around. He was standing there with another arrow almost nocked. Having fired my rifle at a man who had run out of a house, I leveled my short-barreled musket to shoot the boy. Without reason, I held my fire. Dropping his hands to his sides, an arrow in one and his bow in the other, he straightened himself up tall and stared at me. He knew he was going to die. Seconds passed as we each held our pose. Then I pointed at him with my left hand, while still holding my musket on him with my right hand, and pointed to the woods. After only a second’s hesitation he ran for the woods, bow and arrow still in hand. I then heeled my horse and joined the others at the end of the village.

As we were reloading our guns for the return trip through the village, Pa said, “What was that about, Boy?”

I said, “I don’t know, Pa. I just didn’t want to shoot him standing tall like that. He was younger than I am.”

At the time, I could not know this boy, two years my junior, was Osceola. Nor did I know we would meet again and recognize each other. Osceola, a Creek Indian boy, had moved to Florida from Georgia with Peter McQueen when Andrew Jackson and Pa had given the Creeks such a beating in 1814. His family members, like other Indians and many black people who moved to Florida, were to become Seminoles. Seminole means “wild one” or “runaway.”

With our guns reloaded, we raced back through the village shooting at targets of opportunity. We took the village with little damage to our party and held it for most of two hours while we took almost everything of value. Though there was an occasional musket fired at us from the forest, it was ineffective because of the distance. We took horses, cattle, a large number of deerskins and cowhides, eight runaway slaves, and food. Releasing the captive Indian women and children, we then left. I had expected we would burn their houses and destroy everything we didn’t take, but we didn’t. No one even said anything about it. That was fine with me so I held my tongue. We had already done enough damage to those families.

Switching horses periodically, we pushed hard toward the St. Marys River. Sergeant Hunter, with ten men, acted as a rear guard. With no incident and no pursuit in sight, we crossed the St. Marys back into Camden County fifty-four hours later.