At daylight that morning one hundred and eighty warriors glided like shadows out from the dark recesses of the swamp, and, following the lead of Coacoochee, advanced some four miles beyond it. Where they finally halted in the open pine woods there was a thick growth of scrub or saw-palmetto.
A pond bounded the road on the east at this point, and the entire body of Indians took positions on the opposite or western side. Each warrior selected his own tree or clump of palmetto, and sank out of sight behind it. Three minutes after their arrival nothing was to be seen nor heard save the solemn pines and the sighing of the wind through their branches.
There was so little to arouse suspicion that a small herd of deer fleeing before the advancing troops and coming down the wind dashed in among the Indians before discovering their presence. Even then the hidden warriors made no sign, and the terrified animals pursued their flight unmolested.
Besides Coacoochee, the chiefs in command of the Seminole force were Micanopy, Jumper, and Alligator. It had been determined that Micanopy, as head chief, should fire the first shot of the contest, and as the old man was timid and undecided, Coacoochee stood beside him to strengthen his courage.
At length about nine o'clock the troops appeared in view. They marched easily in open order, the bright sunlight glinted bravely on their polished weapons, and many were the shouts of light-hearted merriment that rose from their ranks. Louis, the guide, was not to be seen, as on some trifling pretext he had dropped behind the column.
The advanced guard reached the pond and passed it unmolested. It was not until the main body was directly abreast the Indian centre that the wild war-whoop of Otee the Jumper rang through the forest. The next instant Micanopy's trembling fingers, guided by Coacoochee's unflinching hand, pulled the trigger of the first rifle. With its flash a great sheet of flame leaped from the roadside, and half of Major Dade's command lay dead, without having known from where or by whom the fatal blow was struck.
The survivors, confused and demoralized by the suddenness and unexpectedness of this attack from an unseen foe, still made a brave effort to rally and return the pitiless fire that seemed to leap from every tree of the forest. Their one field-piece, a six-pounder, was brought up and discharged several times, but its gunners presented an attractive target to the hidden riflemen, and it was speedily silenced.
A small company of soldiers managed to fell a few trees in the form of a triangular barricade. Behind this they took shelter, and from it maintained a stout fire for some hours; but early in the afternoon their last gun was silenced, and only the shadows of death brooded over the terrible scene.
During the fight the Indians had kept up an incessant yelling, but now they appeared stunned at the completeness of their success and contemplated their victory in silence.
With Louis Pacheco, who had joined the Indians immediately after the first fire, Coacoochee walked slowly and thoughtfully over the battle-field. He sternly forbade his warriors to mutilate or rob the dead, and speedily withdrew them to their encampment in the great swamp, from which they had emerged with such mingled hopes and apprehensions that morning.