"THAT IS MY OPINION!"
Osceola was a half-breed, and this submission was simply a ruse to gain his freedom. His heart burned with rage, and he yearned for the chance to strike him who had put the crowning shame upon him. As might have been expected, the mongrel was hardly free of the camp when the outrages were renewed with more ferocity than ever. He killed one of the friendly chiefs, and then the Seminoles left all their towns, and took their families far into the gloomy swamps, beyond reach of the white men. The remarkable thing about this removal was that it was done with such skill that not the slightest sign showed where the fugitives had gone. The most skillful scouts of the American army tried for weeks to trace their hiding place, but in not a single instance did they succeed. The feat was marvelous, nothing of the kind having been known before or since.
The government could no longer shut its eyes to the fact that it had a serious war on its hands. Unless protection was quickly given to the inhabitants of Florida, most of them would be massacred. The Seminoles were in dead earnest. General Clinch had charge of Fort King, and would have been doomed had not Major Dade reached him with reinforcements. On the day before Christmas, 1835, Dade, with one hundred men and eight officers, and a fieldpiece, marched against the hostiles. They advanced without hindrance for several days, when they were attacked by a large force of Indians and mongrels. Almost the first man to fall was Major Dade, but the other officers and men went down around him like tenpins. Under Captain Gardener, the Indians were finally repelled. It was known, however, that they would soon return, and the soldiers began hastily throwing up intrenchments. They were working desperately, when the Indians attacked again. Captain Gardener and many others were quickly killed. An attempt was made to bring the field-piece into action, but the Seminoles and negroes shot down every one who tried to serve it. When all the officers and two-thirds of the men had been slain, the ammunition of the survivors gave out, and the enemy rushed upon them. Only three men, by feigning death, escaped to the woods after the departure of the assailants.
The massacre of Major Dade and his command caused as profound emotion throughout the country as that of Custer and his men nearly a half century later.
It is believed, though it is not certain, that Osceola was the leader in this terrible affair. If so, he did another thing, which, in its way, was equally startling. His enmity toward General Thompson, who had put him in irons, was intense. On the same day that the Dade massacre took place, Thompson was dining in a house within a short distance of Fort King. Seated at the table with him were several gentlemen; and, as the day was unusually warm, even for that latitude, the sashes were raised. In the midst of the meal, and while all were chatting and laughing, a volley came through the windows, and Osceola, at the head of a party of Seminoles, dashed into the room with tomahawks upraised. Five guests leaped out of the windows, and, running at headlong speed, reached the fort. The others made for a hummock near by, but were shot down on the way. Five in all, including General Thompson, were killed. The cook, a negro woman, hid behind a barrel and was not noticed. Those who fell were scalped, and Osceola, uttering his well-known defiant cry, made off with his companions, before the garrison at the fort could interfere.
The famous mongrel was the head and front of the rebellion. A force of seven hundred men, while crossing the Ouithlacoochee River, were attacked by him, and in an hour's fight, the Americans suffered a loss of sixty-three killed and wounded, though they inflicted a greater loss upon their assailants. During this struggle, Osceola was recognized many times by the soldiers. He wore a red belt and several long, stained eagle feathers in his hair. He would stand behind a tree, while reloading his rifle, after which he would step out into full view and fire with a deliberate aim. He was seen to level his gun at General Clinch several times, but fortunately that officer, who rashly exposed himself, was unharmed, though his clothing was pierced by one of the bullets of the Seminole chieftain.
In more than one instance a whole platoon fired at Osceola. The bark was seen to fly from the tree behind which he crouched, and once he was hit, but the wound was slight and did not bother him. Not until a squad of Americans were almost upon him, did he break for new cover, which he safely reached amid a storm of bullets whistling about him. The valor of the Americans saved them from a more fearful massacre than that of Major Dade's command.
It was a long time before the United States awoke to the difficult task on its hands, in bringing the Seminoles of Florida to terms. It seemed incredible that such an insignificant tribe could withstand the armed forces sent against them, but, by-and-by, more than one alarming fact came to light. Some of the Creeks of Georgia were stealing across the border and joining the hostiles; the stream of runaway slaves into those gloomy swamps increased in extent, and white desperadoes were doing the same thing, out of pure wantonness. Furthermore, the Seminoles had the great advantage of fully knowing the wild region. They could strike their lightning-like blows, and, if too closely pressed, take refuge in the dismal solitudes, whither the white soldiers could not follow them. The warriors and negroes were relieved of all anxiety about their families, for, as has been said, the veteran scouts could not find any of them in hiding. This left the husbands and sons at liberty to fight without thought for the safety of those dependent upon them.
As proof of the singular nature of the war, a few instances may be named. While the sloop Pilot was sailing up the Halifax River, it was attacked by Indians and would have been captured had the Seminoles been better marksmen. General Gaines, while marching from Tampa for the Indian country, with a large force was fired upon several times, and his losses, which were not great, included a lieutenant of United States dragoons, while the general himself was wounded. It seemed as if the end of the war was put off in more than one instance, by some incident, slight of itself, but enough to cause misunderstanding. The whites had good reason to suspect the honesty of the Indians, and the latter were equally distrustful—and it must be confessed that ground was sometimes given for such distrust—of the honor of the white men. Thus early in March, 1836, Osceola headed a party which met one of General Gaines' staff officers under a flag of truce, and sent word that he and his warriors were tired of fighting, and wished to make peace. General Gaines made the unwise answer that it mattered nothing to him whether the hostiles wanted peace or not, a large force would soon be on the ground, and every Indian taken with arms in his hands would be shot. Osceola answered this message by saying that the chiefs would hold a council and send their reply before the close of the day. General Gaines told them that if they would stop fighting, go south of the Ouithlacoochee River, and come to a council when told to do so by the United States Commissioners, no harm should befall them.