Chapter Nineteen.
A Changed Scene.
A still greater surprise was in store for the Seminole chief and his tribe.
The Indians stood as if petrified, when they came within eight of the well-known hill.
Upon its table top, and visible for miles around, stood a frame mansion, in all the glitter of fresh paint.
When Oluski first saw it, he uttered an exclamation of agonised anger, at the same time clutching hold of Wacora’s arm; but for its friendly support he had fallen to the ground.
“Look, Wacora; look yonder! What is it we see?”
As he spoke, he passed his hands across his eyes to shade off the sun.
No; they had not deceived him; there was no glamour over them. The sun’s beams were shining brightly upon a house.
His nephew looked sadly into the old man’s face, fervently pressing his hand. He dared not trust himself to speak.
“And this is the act of a friend. So much for my blind faith in the traitor’s deceitful words. May the curse of the Great Spirit fall on him and his!”
Wacora added—“Yes; may both be accursed!”
Then drawing his uncle away from the contemplation of the painful sight, he conducted him to a neighbouring grove of oaks; the tribe halting near the spot.
A council of the chief men was instantly called, and a plan of action resolved on.
Oluski and Wacora were commissioned to visit the white settlement, and demand the reason of this scandalous usurpation.
The Indians proceeded no farther.
That night they encamped upon the spot where they had halted, and early the next morning the two chiefs departed on their mission.
As they approached the hill another surprise awaited them.
Surrounding it was a strong wooden stockade, with substantially built block-houses at regular distances from each other. Behind the palisading men were seen, as if watching the approach, and ready to receive them in a hostile manner.
“See!” cried Wacora, “they are prepared for our reception. The robbers have determined to maintain themselves in their stolen possession.”
“Yes, yes! I see. But let us not act rashly. We will first make an appeal in the name of justice. If they refuse that, then we must prove ourselves worthy the blood in our veins! worthy of our ancestors! Oh, I would rather be lying among them in yonder graveyard than that this should have arisen! The fault has been mine, and upon me let fall the punishment. Come on!”
They reached the central block-house, and were summoned to a halt by one of the settlers, who, gun in hand, stood by the entrance.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
Oluski answered—
“White man, go tell your governor that Oluski, the Seminole chief, would speak with him.”
The sentinel answered sharply—
“The governor is not here. He is at his house, and cannot be disturbed.”
Wacora’s hand clutched his tomahawk. Oluski perceiving the act, laid hold of his nephew’s arm.
“Patience, Wacora, patience! The time for bloodshed will come soon enough. For my sake be patient.”
Then, turning to the sentry, he continued, his eyes flashing in their sockets. “Fool!” said he, “go with my message; the lives of hundreds may depend upon it. Tell your chief that I am here! Bring him instantly before me!”
The dignity of the old Indian’s manner struck the man with respect. Perhaps the nervous twitching of Wacora’s fingers about the handle of his tomahawk had also its effect.
Calling out to a comrade who was near, and placing him at the post, he hastened off towards the house.
The two Indians, without exchanging speech, patiently awaited his return.
There was evidently some commotion within the frame dwelling at the reception of the news, as several men, well armed, were observed hurrying off in different directions, and taking station along the line of the stockade.
Shortly after, the man who had been sent was seen coming back.
Throwing open the strong slab door, he beckoned the two chiefs to enter.
They did so; and then, leading them inside the block-house, the man told them there to await the governor’s arrival. It was not long delayed.
Elias Rody was seen coming forth from his new mansion, followed by five or six stalwart settlers.
All save himself carried rifles.
The Indians stood still as statues.
They made no movement to lessen the distance between themselves and the white men.
At length Elias Rody and Oluski stood face to face.
A close observer might have detected signs of fear in the governor’s countenance.
Despite his assumed boldness of bearing, he found it hard to look into the face of the man he had so cruelly wronged.
It was he, however, who first broke the silence so painful to himself.
“What does Oluski wish to say to me?”
“What is the meaning of this?” asked the chief, pointing to the mansion as he spoke.
“That is my new residence.”
“By what right have you built it on this ground?”
“By the right of possession—bought and paid for?”
Oluski started as if a shot had struck him.
“Bought and paid for? Dog of a liar! What do you mean?”
“Only that I have built my house upon land purchased from you. Your memory appears bad, my old Indian friend.”
“Purchased from me? When—how?”
“Do you already forget the guns, powder, and valuables I gave you? Fie, fie! you are trying to cheat me! Surely you must remember your bargain! But if your memory fail you, these gentlemen,” here Rody pointed to the settlers, “these gentlemen are prepared to certify to the truth of what I say.”
Oluski only groaned.
The audacious treachery of the white man was beyond his simple belief.
Wacora, burning with indignation, spoke for him.
“False wretch, the lie these men are ready to swear to is too monstrous to be believed, even were they upon their oaths! Those gifts were thrust upon my uncle, falsely bestowed as the lands he gave you were falsely claimed for services done to him! Your black heart never conceived a generous thought or a just deed! All was for a treacherous end—the betrayal of this noble-minded chief, as much your superior as the Deity you profess to worship is above the white man himself! Wacora despises you! Wacora has said it!”
He drew Oluski towards him, and stood erect and proud in the consciousness of right before the trembling usurper and his adherents.
The aged chief had recovered himself while his nephew was speaking.
“What Wacora has said is good, and he only utters my own thoughts. I came here ready to receive atonement for the wrong done me and my people. I now see that there is a darker depth of treachery in you, even than this which has robbed a confiding man of his best-loved possession. I, Oluski, the Seminole, spit at and despise you! I have spoken!”
With a kingly dignity the old chief folded his blanket around him, and leaning on his nephew’s arm, slowly departed from the spot.
Rody and his followers, as if transfixed by the withering contempt with which the Indians had treated, them, suffered the two to depart without molestation.
They now redoubled their watchfulness, stationed additional sentinels around the stockade, and looked after the arms and ammunition, with which they would, no doubt, have to defend the usurped possession.
The small cloud that had been slowly gathering over the settlement was growing dark and portentous. The soft breeze was rapidly rising to a storm.
The people of the settlement, alarmed by the news of the interview between Rody and the Indian chief’s, which spread rapidly among them, hastened to take measures for the safety of their families. The women and children were hurriedly brought in from the outlying plantations, and lodged in temporary abodes within the stockade, whilst provisions in plenty were carried to the same place.
The war signal had sounded, and before long the work of carnage would commence!