CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.

"DADE'S Ma.s.sACRE."

This melancholy finale to the festivities of Christmas was, if possible, rendered more sad by a rumour that shortly after reached Fort King. It was the rumour of an event, which has since become popularly known as "Dade's ma.s.sacre."

The report was brought by an Indian runner--belonging to one of the friendly clans--but the statements made were of so startling a character, that they were at first received with a cry of incredulity.

Other runners, however, continuously arriving, confirmed the account of the first messenger, until his story--tragically improbable as it appeared--was accepted as truth. It was true in all its romantic colouring; true in all its sanguinary details. The war had commenced in real earnest, inaugurated by a conflict of the most singular kind-- singular both in character and result.

An account of this battle is perhaps of sufficient interest to be given.

In the early part of this narrative, it has been mentioned that an officer of the United States army gave out the vaunt that he "could march through all the Seminole reserve with only a corporal's guard at his back." That officer was Major Dade.

It was the destiny of Major Dade to find an opportunity for giving proof of his warlike prowess--though with something more than a corporal's guard at his back. The result was a sad contrast to the boast he had so thoughtlessly uttered.

To understand this ill-fated enterprise, it is necessary to say a word topographically of the country.

On the west coast of the peninsula of Florida is a bay called "Tampa"-- by the Spaniards, "Espiritu Santo." At the head of this bay was erected "Fort Brooke"--a stockade similar to Fort King, and lying about ninety miles from the latter, in a southerly direction. It was another of those military posts established in connection with the Indian reserve-- a depot for troops and stores--also an entrepot for such as might arrive from the ports of the Mexican gulf.

About two hundred soldiers were stationed here at the breaking out of hostilities. They were chiefly artillery, with a small detachment of infantry.

Shortly after the fruitless council at Fort King, these troops--or as many of them as could be spared--were ordered by General Clinch to proceed to the latter place, and unite with the main body of the army.

In obedience to these orders, one hundred men with their quota of officers, were set in motion for Fort King. Major Dade commanded the detachment.

On the eve of Christmas, 1835, they had taken the route, marching out from Fort Brooke in high spirits, buoyant with the hope of encountering and winning laurels in a fight with the Indian foe. They flattered themselves that it would be the first conflict of the war, and therefore, that in which the greatest reputation would be gained by the victors. They dreamt not of defeat.

With flags flying gaily, drums rolling merrily, bugles sounding the advance, cannon pealing their farewell salute, and comrades cheering them onwards, the detachment commenced its march--that fatal march from which it was destined never to return.

Just seven days after--on the 31st of December--a man made his appearance at the gates of Fort Brooke, crawling upon his hands and knees. In his tattered attire could scarcely be recognised the uniform of a soldier--a private of Dade's detachment--for such he was. His clothes were saturated with water from the creeks, and soiled with mud from the swamps. They were covered with dust, and stained with blood.

His body was wounded in five places--severe wounds all--one in the right shoulder, one in the right thigh, one near the temple, one in the left arm, and another in the back. He was wan, wasted, emaciated to the condition of a skeleton, and presented the aspect of one. When, in a weak, trembling voice, he announced himself as "Private Clark of the 2nd Artillery," his old comrades had with difficulty identified him.

Shortly after, two others--privates Sprague and Thomas--made their appearance in a similar plight. Their report was similar to that already delivered by Clark: that Major Dade's command had been attacked by the Indians, cut to pieces, ma.s.sacred to a man--that they themselves were the sole survivors of that band who had so lately gone forth from the fort in all the pride of confident strength, and the hopeful antic.i.p.ation of glory.

And their story was true to the letter. Of all the detachment, these three miserable remnants of humanity alone escaped; the others--one hundred and six in all--had met death on the banks of the Amazura.

Instead of the laurel, they had found the cypress.

The three who escaped had been struck down and left for dead upon the field. It was only by counterfeiting death, they had succeeded in afterwards crawling from the ground, and making their way back to the fort. Most of this journey Clark performed upon his hands and knees, proceeding at the rate of a mile to the hour, over a distance of more than sixty miles!

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX.

THE BATTLE-GROUND.

The affair of Dade's ma.s.sacre is without a parallel in the history of Indian warfare. No conflict of a similar kind had ever occurred--at least, none so fatal to the whites engaged in it. In this case they suffered complete annihilation--for, of the three wounded men who had escaped, two of them shortly after died of their wounds.

Nor had the Indians any great advantage over their antagonists, beyond that of superior cunning and strategy.

It was near the banks of the Amazura ["Ouithlacoochee" of the Seminoles], and after crossing that stream, that Major Dade's party had been attacked. The a.s.sault was made in ground comparatively open--a tract of pine-woods, where the trees grew thin and straggling--so that the Indians had in reality no great advantage either from position or intrenchment. Neither has it been proved that they were greatly superior in numbers to the troops they destroyed--not more than two to one; and this proportion in most Indian wars has been considered by their white antagonists as only "fair odds."

Many of the Indians appeared upon the ground mounted; but these remained at a distance from the fire of the musketry; and only those on foot took part in the action. Indeed, their conquest was so soon completed, that the hors.e.m.e.n were not needed. The first fire was so deadly, that Dade's followers were driven into utter confusion. They were unable to retreat: the mounted Indians had already outflanked them, and cut off their chance of escape.

Dade himself, with most of his officers, fell at the first volley; and the survivors had no choice but fight it out on the ground. A breastwork was attempted--by felling trees, and throwing their trunks into a triangle--but the hot fire from the Indian rifles soon checked the progress of the work; and the parapet never rose even breast-high above the ground. Into this insecure shelter the survivors of the first attack retreated, and there fell rapidly under the well-aimed missiles of their foes. In a short while the last man lay motionless; and the slaughter was at an end.

When the place was afterwards visited by our troops, this triangular inclosure was found, filled with dead bodies--piled upon one another, just as they had fallen--crosswise, lengthways, in every att.i.tude of death!

It was afterwards noised abroad that the Indians had inhumanly tortured the wounded, and horribly mutilated the slain. This was not true.

There were no wounded left to be tortured--except the three who escaped--and as for the mutilation, but one or two instances of this occurred--since known to have been the work of runaway negroes actuated by motives of personal revenge.

Some scalps were taken; but this is the well-known custom of Indian warfare; and white men ere now have practised the fashion, while under the frenzied excitement of battle.

I was one of those who afterwards visited the battle-ground on a tour of inspection, ordered by the commander-in-chief; and the official report of that tour is the best testimony as to the behaviour of the victors.

It reads as follows:

"Major Dade and his party were destroyed on the morning of the 28th of December, about four miles from their camp of the preceding night. They were advancing in column of route when they were attacked by the enemy, who rose in a swarm out of the cover of long gra.s.s and palmettoes. The Indians suddenly appeared close to their files. Muskets were clubbed, knives and bayonets used, and parties clenched in deadly conflict. In the second attack, our own men's muskets, taken from the dead and wounded, were used against them; a cross-fire cut down a succession of artillerists, when the cannon were taken, the carriages broken and burned, and the guns rolled into a pond. Many negroes were in the field; but no scalps were taken by the Indians. On the other hand, the negroes, with h.e.l.lish cruelty, pierced the throats of all whose cries or groans shewed that there was still life in them."

Another official report runs thus:

We approached the battle-field from the rear. Our advanced guard had pa.s.sed the ground without halting when the commanding officer and his staff came upon one of the most appalling scenes that can be imagined.

We first saw some broken and scattered boxes; then a cart, the two oxen of which were lying dead, as if they had fallen asleep, their yokes still on them: a little to the right, one or two horses were seen. We next came to a small inclosure, made by felling trees, in such a manner as to form a triangular breastwork. Within the triangle--along the north and west faces of it--were about thirty bodies, mostly mere skeletons, although much of the clothing was left upon them. They were lying in the positions they must have occupied during the fight. Some had fallen over their dead comrades, but most of them lay close to the logs, with their heads turned towards the breastwork, over which they had delivered their fire, and their bodies stretched with striking regularity parallel to each other. They had evidently been shot dead at their posts, and the Indians had not disturbed them, except by taking the scalps of some--which, it is said, was done by their negro allies.

The officers were all easily recognised. Some still wore their rings and breastpins, and money was found in their pockets! The bodies of eight officers and ninety-eight men were interred.

"It may be proper to observe that the attack was not made from a hommock, but in a thinly-wooded country--the Indians being concealed by palmettoes and gra.s.s."

From this report, it appears that the Indians were fighting--not for plunder, not even from motives of diabolical revenge. Their motive was higher and purer--it was the defence of their country--of their hearths and homes.

The advantage they had over the troop of Major Dade was simply that of ambush and surprise. This officer, though a man of undoubted gallantry, was entirely wanting in those qualities necessary to a leader-- especially one engaged against such a foe. He was a mere book-soldier-- as most officers are--lacking the genius which enables the great military chieftain to adapt himself to the circ.u.mstances that surround him. He conducted the march of his detachment as if going upon parade; and by so doing he carried it into danger and subsequent destruction.

But if the commander of the whites in this fatal affair was lacking in military capacity, the leader of the Indians was not. It soon became known that he who planned the ambush and conducted it to such a sanguinary and successful issue, was the young chief of the Baton Rouge--Osceola.

He could not have stayed long upon the ground to enjoy his triumph. It was upon that same evening, at Fort King--forty miles distant from the scene of Dade's ma.s.sacre--that the commissioner fell before his vow of vengeance!

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.

THE BATTLE OF "OUITHLACOOCHEE."

The murder of the commissioner called for some act of prompt retribution. Immediately after its occurrence, several expresses had been dispatched by different routes to Camp Drane--some of whom fell into the hands of the enemy, while the rest arrived safely with the news.

By daybreak of the following morning the army, more than a thousand strong, was in motion; and marching towards the Amazura. The avowed object of this expedition was to strike a blow at the _families_ of the hostile Indians--their fathers and mothers, their wives, sisters and children--whose lurking-place amidst the fastnesses of the great swamp-- the "Cove"--had become known to the general. It was intended they should be _captured, if possible_, and held as hostages until the warriors could be induced to surrender.

With all others who could be spared from the fort, I was ordered to accompany the expedition, and accordingly joined it upon the march.

From the talk I heard around me, I soon discovered the sentiment of the soldiery. They had but little thought of making captives. Exasperated by what had taken place at the fort--further exasperated by what they called "Dade's ma.s.sacre," I felt satisfied that they would not stay to take prisoners--old men or young men, women or children, all would alike be slain--no quarter would be given.