To this he replied with all the defiance of his proud blood: “Am I a negro? A slave who will not be allowed to handle a rifle? My skin is dark, not black. I am a Red Stick of the Muscokees. The white man shall know I am a pure blood.”
At this point, it is with much pleasure, the author desires to correct the erroneous and too often quoted statement as given in the pages of literature, viz.: that “Osceola was a half-breed, the son of an English trader.”
After much research among records, and from the learned leaders of the Western Seminoles, as well as from the old Seminoles of the Everglades, it is learned that Osceola disdained the idea of mixed blood, declaring that “not a drop of foreign blood flowed through his veins.”
His mother was a Creek of the pure blood, a daughter of a chief, whose second marriage to an Englishman (Powell, by name), occurred when Osceola was a small boy.
Osceola was magnanimous in character and honorable in war and no other crime can be charged to this chivalrous Seminole than a positive opposition to the removal of his people from their sunny, native land to the blizzard-stricken territory of the West.
Picture, if you will, a Florida war scene that in dramatic climax is matchless in the world’s history.
In the Government’s headquarters, Seminole Chieftains and American army officers wait; each are in the insignia of their respective ranks. The American flag adds dignity to the scene. Through the open windows come the fragrant perfume of the orange and the magnolia blossoms and the song of the mocking-birds adds a flute-like melody to the tropical setting.
The very air is tense with the mental questions. Will Osceola come—will Osceola sign?
Promptly at the hour appointed, the savage chieftain, royal in his warrior regalia, self-possessed and with noiseless step, enters the room. With a swift glance at the stacked arms of his warriors, he approached the council table and with defiance in his face and high uplifted head, exclaimed: “Rather than act the coward, by signing away the Seminole’s inheritance and taking my people into a strange land, I will fight till the last drop of blood moistens the dust of the Seminole’s hunting grounds,” and drawing his long sheath knife drove the blade through the treaty pinning it to the table. “The land is ours. This is the way I will sign all such treaties.”