Osceola the Seminole Part 41

Like an eagle freshly caught and caged--like a panther in a pentrap-- furious, restless, at intervals uttering words of wild menace, I found the young chief of the _Baton Rouge_.

The apartment was quite dark; there was no window to admit even the grey l.u.s.tre of the night; and the corporal who guided me in carried neither torch nor candle. He went back to the guard-house to procure one, leaving me in darkness.

I heard the footfall of a man. It was the sound of a moccasined foot, and soft as the tread of a tiger; but mingling with this was the sharp clanking of a chain. I heard the breathing of one evidently in a state of excitement, and now and then an exclamation of fierce anger. Without light, I could perceive that the prisoner was pacing the apartment in rapid, irregular strides. At least his limbs were free.

I had entered silently, and stood near the door, I had already ascertained that the prisoner was alone; but waited for the light before addressing him. Preoccupied as he appeared to be, I fancied that he was not conscious of my presence.

My fancy was at fault. I heard him stop suddenly in his tracks--as if turning towards me--and the next moment his voice fell upon my ear. To my surprise, it p.r.o.nounced my name. He must have seen through the darkness.

"You, Randolph!" he said, in a tone that expressed reproach; "you, too, in the ranks of our enemies? Armed--uniformed--equipped--ready to aid in driving us from our homes!"

"Powell!"

"Not Powell, sir; my name is Osceola."

"To me, still Edward Powell--the friend of my youth, the preserver of my life. By that name alone do I remember you."

There was a momentary pause. The speech had evidently produced a conciliating effect; perhaps memories of the past had come over him.

He replied:

"Your errand? Come you as a friend? or only like others, to torment me with idle words? I have had visitors already; gay, gibbering fools, with forked tongues, who would counsel me to dishonour. Have _you_ been sent upon a like mission?"

From this speech I concluded that Scott--the pseudo-friend--had already been with the captive--likely on some errand from the agent.

"I come of my own accord--as a friend."

"George Randolph, I believe you. As a boy, you possessed a soul of honour. The straight sapling rarely grows to a crooked tree. I will not believe that you are changed, though enemies have spoken against you. No--no; your hand, Randolph--your hand! forgive me for doubting you."

I reached through the darkness to accept the proffered salute. Instead of one, I grasped both hands of the prisoner. I felt that they were manacled together: for all that, the pressure was firm and true; nor did I return it with less warmth.

Enemies had spoken against me. I needed not to ask who these were: that had been already told me; but I felt it necessary to give the captive a.s.surance of my friendship. I needed his full confidence to insure the success of the plan which I had conceived for his liberation; and to secure this, I detailed to him what had transpired by the pond--only a portion of what had pa.s.sed. There was a portion of it I could not intrust even to the ears of a brother.

I antic.i.p.ated a fresh paroxysm of fury, but was agreeably disappointed.

The young chief had been accustomed to harsh developments, and could outwardly control himself; but I saw that my tale produced an impression that told deeply, if not loudly, upon him. In the darkness, I could not see his face; but the grinding teeth and hissing e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns were expressive of the strong pa.s.sions stirring within.

"Fool!" he exclaimed at length--"blind fool that I have been! And yet I suspected this smooth-tongued villain from the first. Thanks, n.o.ble Randolph! I can never repay this act of chivalric friendship; henceforth you may command Osceola!"

"Say no more, Powell; you have nothing to repay; it was I who was the debtor. But come, we lose time. My purpose in coming here is to counsel you to a plan for procuring your release from this awkward confinement. We must be brief, else my intentions may be suspected."

"What plan, Randolph?"

"You must sign the treaty of the Oclawaha."

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

THE WAR-CRY.

A single "Ugh!" expressive of contemptuous surprise, was all the reply; and then a deep silence succeeded.

I broke the silence by repeating my demand.

"You must sign it."

"Never!" came the response, in a tone of emphatic determination.

"Never! Sooner than do that, I will linger among these logs till decay has worn the flesh from my bones, and dried up the blood in my veins.

Sooner than turn traitor to my tribe, I will rush against the bayonets of my jailers, and perish upon the spot. Never!"

"Patience, Powell, patience! You do not understand me--you, in common with other chiefs, appear to misconceive the terms of this treaty.

Remember, it binds you to a mere conditional promise--to surrender your lands and move west, only in case a _majority of your nation agree to it_. Now, to-day a majority has _not_ agreed, nor will the addition of your name make the number a majority."

"True, true," interrupted the chief, beginning to comprehend my meaning.

"Well, then, you may sign, and not feel bound by your signature, since the most essential condition still remains unfulfilled. And why should you not adopt this ruse? Ill-used as you certainly have been, no one could p.r.o.nounce it dishonourable in you. For my part, I believe you would be justified in any expedient that would free you from so wrongful an imprisonment."

Perhaps my principles were scarcely according to the rules of moral rect.i.tude; but at that moment they took their tone from strong emotions; and to the eyes of friendship and love the wrong was not apparent.

Osceola was silent. I observed that he was meditating on what I had urged.

"Why, Randolph," said he, after a pause, "you must have dwelt in Philadelphia, that famed city of lawyers. I never took this view before. You are right; signing would _not_ bind me--it is true. But think you that the agent would be satisfied with my signature? He hates me; I know it, and his reasons. I hate _him_, for many reasons; for this is not the first outrage I have suffered at his hands. Will he be satisfied if I sign?"

"I am almost certain of it. Simulate submission, _if you can_. Write your name to the treaty, and you will be at once set free."

I had no doubt of this. From what I had learned since Osceola's arrest, I had reason to believe that Thompson repented his conduct. It was the opinion of others that he had acted rashly, and that his act was likely to provoke evil consequences. Whispers of this nature had reached him; and from what the captive told me of the visit of the aide-de-camp, I could perceive that it was nothing else than a mission from the agent himself. Beyond doubt, the latter was tired of his prisoner, and would release him on the easiest terms.

"Friend! I shall act as you advise. I shall sign. You may inform the commissioner of my intention."

"I shall do so at the earliest hour I can see him. It is late: shall I say good night?"

"Ah, Randolph! it is hard to part with a friend--the only one with a white skin now left me. I could have wished to talk over other days, but, alas! this is neither the place nor the time."

The haughty mien of the proud chief was thrown aside, and his voice had a.s.sumed the melting tenderness of early years.

"Yes," he continued, "the only white friend left--the only one I have any regard for--one other whom I--"

He stopped suddenly, and with an embarra.s.sed air, as if he had found himself on the eve of disclosing some secret, which on reflection he deemed it imprudent to reveal.

I awaited the disclosure with some uneasiness, but it came not. When he spoke again, his tone and manner were completely changed.

"The whites have done us much wrong," he continued, once more rousing himself into an angry att.i.tude--"wrongs too numerous to be told; but, by the Great Spirit! I shall seek revenge. Never till now have I sworn it; but the deeds of this day have turned my blood into fire. Ere you came, I had vowed to take the lives of two, who have been our especial enemies. You have not changed my resolution, only strengthened it; you have added a third to the list of my deadly foes: and once more I swear--by Wykome, I swear--that I shall take no rest till the blood of these three men has reddened the leaves of the forest--three white villains, and one red traitor. Ay, Omatla! triumph in your treason--it will not be for long--soon shalt thou feel the Vengeance of a patriot-- soon shalt thou shrink under the steel of Osceola!"

I made no reply, but waited in silence till this outburst of pa.s.sion had pa.s.sed.

In a few moments the young chief became calm, and again addressed me in the language of friendship.

"One word," said he, "before we part. Circ.u.mstances may hinder us--it may be long ere we meet again. Alas! our next meeting may be as foes in the field of fight--for I will not attempt to conceal from you that I have no intention to make peace. No--never! I wish to make a request; I know, Randolph, you will accede to it without asking an explanation.