On Saturday, February 15, 1840, we find a record of two mail-carriers having been murdered, one seven and the other nine miles distant—G. W. Walton, from South Carolina, while on his way to Jacksonville, and Mr. J. Garcias, near Live Oak Camp. The letters were undisturbed, although carried some distance. Both of the murdered young men were buried in St. Augustine. Afterward the mail was accompanied by an escort of five men.
We have tried to hold up some cause with the semblance of a shade to delude us into the belief that the Indians have less activity and enterprise than the white men, but facts stand forward in bold relief denying us even the poor consolation which such delusions might afford us. The lifeless bodies of our brethren speak trumpet-tongued in favor of their removal, and the wail of hearts blighted by their successes is stronger and more piercing than the fictitious surroundings of excited fancies.
Here is another thrust at the bloodhounds:
“These distinguished auxiliaries have received more attention than their services deserve, while great apprehension fills the minds of many for fear they should perchance bite a Seminole. We would state as a quietus that a competent tooth-drawer will accompany them, entering upon his dental duties very soon.”
Another shocking murder occurred between Picolata and St. Augustine, before the St. John’s Railroad was surveyed between Tocoi and St. Augustine.
“May 29, 1840.—On Friday last a carriage and wagon had been obtained to proceed to Picolata, for the purpose of bringing in some baggage and gentlemen connected with the theatrical company of W. C. Forbes, from Savannah. Leaving Picolata on Saturday morning, May 23, in addition to their own party they were joined by Messrs. D. G. Vose, of New York, and Miller, of Brunswick, who all reached the eleven-mile military post in safety. When within seven miles of St. Augustine they were fired upon by Indians, severely wounding Vose, Miller, and Wigger, a young German musician. While this work of death was going on, a wagon which had left the barracks that morning was seen approaching. It contained three persons besides the driver—Mr. Francis Medicis, of St. Augustine, Mr. A. Ball, and Mr. Beaufort. The Indians fired upon them near the six-mile post, when Mr. Beaufort and the driver escaped. The mules ran away with the wagon. The firing being heard at the little garrison of seven men, they turned out, when they saw distinctly twenty Indians. News having been received in town by a lad coming in on one of the horses, a party of gentlemen repaired thither. On reaching the ground, there lay Mr. Ball dead, while farther on was the body of Mr. Medicis, lying on his side, his hands clenched, as if in the attitude of supplication, his right shirt-sleeve burned with powder, and his face covered with blood. Mr. Francis Medicis was murdered the 23d of May, 1840, between the hours of eleven and twelve o’clock. The bodies of Messrs. Medicis, Ball, Vose, and Miller, were brought in at dusk, that of Mr. Miller about nine o’clock. The bodies of the strangers were placed in the Council Chamber. Mr. Forbes and his company passed over the Picolata road on the 22d of May, except Messrs. Wigger, German, and Thomas A. Line. Mr. Wigger was murdered. Thomas A. Line hid himself in a swamp, sinking up to his neck, and covering his face with a barnet-leaf, which he raised, to the great surprise of his companions, when they were searching for the survivors and gathering up the wounded.”
The old citizens in St. Augustine now say that when Mr. German, vocalist, one of the theatricals, arrived in the city after his escape, his hair was standing perfectly erect on his head, and in twenty-four hours turned entirely white. As the Indians rifled the baggage-wagon, they carried off a considerable portion of the stage-dresses and other paraphernalia.
Now, we can peruse these tragic events as the vision of some wild romancer, or relate them to children as nursery tales, partaking enough of the terrible to excite a desire for the wonderful. Wearied with waiting, and heart-sick of bloody murders, we find the following piece of composition written on this solemn occasion:
“How long shall the earth drink the blood of our women and children, and the soil be dyed with the ebbing life of manhood? Could they have looked with us upon the mangled corpses of Indian wrath, as they were laid upon the public highway, or gone to the council-room and surveyed on its table, where side by side the marble forms of four men lay, who a few hours before were looking to the future as filled with bright enjoyment, they would then have whistled their philanthropy to the winds, and cried aloud for vengeance. That was a sight never to be forgotten. We have seen men killed in battle, and perish by disease on the ocean, but amid the many affecting and unpleasant incidents that have met our gaze we have never seen a spectacle like that. Here in the rigidity of death lay the youthful German, on whom manhood had just dawned: also the compact forms of muscular health, with the less vigorous frames of more advanced years. A casual glance might mistake it for a mimic scene, where Art had exhausted her powers in its production. But there was the pallid hue of faces; there was the gash the knife had made in its course to the heart; the cleft forehead parted by the tomahawk in its descent to the brain; and there the silent drop, dropping of crimson fluid to the floor—while our Secretary, with his usual imbecility, issues orders to ‘muzzle the bloodhounds.’ The funerals of these unfortunate victims took place on Sunday, attended by a large concourse of people, who expressed the keenest indignation at the repetition of such a scene so near our city. Wild Cat was the leader of this band, as he stopped afterward at the plantation of E. S. Jenckes, Esq., and told the servants he had committed the murder.”
The troupe filled their engagement at St. Augustine, as only a musician had been killed from their number. History says, “The sterling comedy of ‘The Honeymoon’ was performed to a crowded house.” Afterward the following notice appeared: “During the winter months we have no doubt that a troupe, embodying the same amount of talent which the present company possess, would find it profitable to spend a month with us each season.”