Osceola the Seminole Part 26

"The tents of this chief are not within sight of the fort?"

"No--they are back among the trees."

"Can you send word to us?"

"Yes, but only to this place; our messenger would be seen entering the fort. We can come back here ourselves, and meet one from you."

"True--it is better so," replied the commissioner, apparently pleased with the arrangement.

A few minutes pa.s.sed, during which the two generals communicated with each other in while whispers, the chiefs stood apart, silent and immobile as a pair of statues.

The commander-in-chief at length broke the silence:

"Lieutenant! you will remain upon the ground till the chiefs return.

Get their report, and bring it direct to my quarters."

Salutations were exchanged; the two generals walked off on the path that led to the fort, while the chiefs glided silently away in the opposite direction. I was left alone.

Note 1. So l.u.s.ta Hajo was called by the Americans. His full name was Fuchta-l.u.s.ta-Hajo, which signifies "Black Crazy Clay."

Note 2. A name given to the Micosaucs, from their custom of setting up red poles in front of their houses when going to war. A similar custom exists among other tribes; hence the name "Baton Rouge," applied by the French colonists.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

SHADOWS IN THE WATER.

Alone with my thoughts, and these tainted with considerable acerbity.

More than one cause contributed to their bitterness. My pleasant purpose thwarted--my heart aching for knowledge--for a renewal of tender ties--distracted with doubts--wearied with protracted suspense.

In addition to these, my mind was hara.s.sed by other emotions I experienced disgust at the part I had been playing. I had been made the mouth-piece of chicanery and wrong; aiding conspiracy had been the first act of my warlike career; and although it was not the act of my own will, I felt the disagreeableness of the duty--a sheer disgust in its performance.

Even the loveliness of the night failed to soothe me. Its effect was contrary; a storm would have been more congenial to my spirit.

And it was a lovely night. Both the earth and the air were at peace.

Here and there the sky was fleeced with white cirrhi, but so thinly, that the moon's disk, pa.s.sing behind them, appeared to move under a transparent gauze-work of silver, without losing one ray of her effulgence. Her light was resplendent in the extreme; and, glancing from the glabrous leaves of the great laurels, caused the forests to sparkle, as though beset with a million of mirrors. To add to the effect, fire-flies swarmed under the shadows of the trees, their bodies lighting up the dark aisles with a mingled coruscation of red, blue and gold--now flitting in a direct line, now curving, or waving upward and downward, as though moving through the mazes of some intricate _cotillon_.

In the midst of all this glittering array, lay the little tarn, shining, too, but with the gleam of plated gla.s.s--a mirror in its framework of fretted gild.

The atmosphere was redolent of the most agreeable perfumes. The night was cool enough for human comfort, but not chill. Many of the flowers refused to close their corollas--for not all of them were brides of the sun. The moon had its share of the sweets. The sa.s.safras and bay-trees were in blossom, and dispensed their odours around, that, mingling with the aroma of the aniseed and the orange, created a delicious fragrance in the air.

There was a stillness in the atmosphere, but not silence. It is never silent in the southern forests by night. Tree-frogs and cicadas utter their shrillest notes after the sun has gone out of sight, and there is a bird that makes choice melody during the moonlight hours--the famed mimic of the American woods. One, perched upon a tall tree that grew over the edge of the pond, appeared trying to soothe my chafed spirit with his sweet notes.

I heard other sounds--the hum of the soldiery in the fort, mingling with the more distant noises from the Indian camp, now and then some voice louder than the rest, in oath, exclamation, or laughter, broke forth to interrupt the monotonous murmur.

How long should I have to wait the return of the chiefs? It might be an hour, or two hours, or more? I had a partial guide in the moon. They said that Holata would depart before the shining orb went down, or not at all. About two hours, then, would decide the point, and set me free.

I had been standing for half the day. I cared not to keep my feet any longer; and choosing a fragment of rock near the water's edge, I sat down upon it:

My eyes wandered over the pond. Half of its surface lay in shadow; the other half was silvered by the moonbeams, that, penetrating the pellucid water, rendered visible the white sh.e.l.ls and shining pebbles at the bottom. Along the line where the light and darkness met, were outlined several n.o.ble palms, whose tall stems and crested crowns appeared stretching towards the nadir of the earth--as though they belonged to another and a brighter firmament beneath my feet. The trees, of which these were but the illusory images, grew upon the summit of a ridge, which, trending along the western side of the pond, intercepted the rays of the moon.

I sat for some time gazing into this counterpart of heaven's canopy, with my eyes mechanically tracing the great fan-like fronds.

All at once, I was startled at perceiving a new image upon the aqueous reflector. A form, or rather the shadow of one, suddenly appeared among the trunks of the palms. It was upright, and evidently human, though of magnified proportions--beyond a doubt, a human figure, yet not that of a man.

The small head, apparently uncovered, the gentle rounding of the shoulders, the soft undulation of the waist, and the long, loose draping which reached nearly to the ground, convinced me that the shadow was that of a woman.

When I first observed it, it was moving among the stems of the palm-trees; presently it stopped, and for some seconds remained in a fixed att.i.tude. It was then I noted the peculiarities that distinguish the s.e.x.

My first impulse was to turn round, and, if possible, get a sight of the figure that cast this interesting shadow. I was myself on the western edge of the pond, and the ridge was behind me. Facing round I could not see the summit nor yet the palms. Rising to my feet, I still could not see them: a large live-oak, under which I had seated myself, intercepting my view.

I stepped hastily to one side, and then both the outline of the ridge and the palm-trees were before my eyes; but I could see no figure, neither of man nor woman.

I scanned the summit carefully, but no living thing was there; some fronds of the saw-palmetta, standing along the crest, were the only forms I could perceive.

I returned to where I had been seated; and, placing myself as before, again looked upon the water. The palm shadows were there, just as I had left them; but the image was gone.

There was nothing to be astonished at. I did not for a moment believe myself under any delusion. Some one had been upon the ridge--a woman, I supposed--and had pa.s.sed down under the cover of the trees. This was the natural explanation of what I had seen, and of course contented me.

At the same time, the silent apparition could not fail to arouse my curiosity; and instead of remaining seated, and giving way to dreamy reflections, I rose to my feet, and stood looking and listening with eager expectation.

Who could the woman be? An Indian, of course. It was not probable that a white woman should be in such a place, and at such an hour. Even the peculiar outlines of the shadow were not those that would have been cast by one habited in a garb of civilisation: beyond a doubt, the woman was an Indian.

What was she doing in that solitary place, and alone?

These questions were not so easily answered; and yet there was nothing so remarkable about her presence upon the spot. To the children of the forest, time is not as with us. The hours of the night are as those of the day--often the hours of action or enjoyment. She might have many a purpose in being there. She might be on her way to the pond for water-- to take a bath; or it might be some impa.s.sioned maiden, who, under the secret shadows of this secluded grove, was keeping a.s.signation with her lover.

A pang, like a poisoned arrow, pa.s.sed through my heart: "_might it be Maumee_?"

The unpleasantness which this conjecture caused me is indescribable. I had been all day the victim of dire suspicions, arising from some half-dozen words, casually dropped from the lips of a young officer, and which I had chanced to overhear. They had reference to a beautiful girl among the Indians, apparently well-known at the fort; and I noticed that the tone of the young fellow was that of one either triumphant or boasting. I listened attentively to every word, and watched not only the countenance of the speaker, but those of his auditory--to make out in which of the two categories I should place him. His vanity appeared to have had some sacrifice made to it--at least by his own statement; and his listeners, or most of them, agreed to concede to him the happiness of a _bonne fortune_. There was no name given--no hint that would enable me to connect the subject of the conversation with that of my own thoughts; but that the girl was an Indian, and a "beauty," were points, that my jealous heart almost accepted as sufficient for identification.

I might easily have become satisfied. A word, a simple question, would have procured me the knowledge I longed for; and yet I dared not say that word. I preferred pa.s.sing long hours--a whole day--upon the rack of uncertainty and suspicion.

Thus, then, was I prepared for the painful conjectures that sprang into my thoughts on beholding that mirrored form.

The pain was of short duration; almost instantaneous was the relief. A shadowy figure was seen gliding around the edge of the pond; it emerged into the open moonlight, not six paces from where I stood. I had a full and distinct view of it. It was a woman--an Indian woman. It was _not_ Maumee.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

HAJ-EWA.

I saw before me a woman of middle age--somewhere between thirty and forty--a large woman, who once possessed beauty--beauty that had been abused. She was the wreck of a grand loveliness, whose outlines could not be effaced--like the statue of some Grecian G.o.ddess, broken by Vandal hands, but whose very fragments are things of priceless value.