Basil. And what did they do to Oseola? Did they kill him?
Hunter. They at first confined him in the fort at St. Augustine, and afterwards in a dungeon at Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston. It was in the latter place that he died, his head pillowed on the faithful bosom of his wife, who never forsook him, and never ceased to regard him with homage and affection. He was buried at Fort Moultrie, where he has a monument, inscribed “Oseola.” His companions, had they been present at his grave, would not have wept. They would have been glad that he had escaped from his enemies.
Austin. Poor Oseola!
Hunter. This is only one instance among thousands, in which the red man has fallen a victim to the treachery and injustice of the whites. It is a solemn thought, that when the grave shall give up its dead, and the trumpet shall call together, face to face, the inhabitants of all nations to judgment; the deceitful, the unjust and the cruel will have to meet those whom their deceit, their injustice and cruelty have destroyed. Well may the oppressor tremble. “The Lord of hosts hath purposed, and who shall disannul it? and his hand is stretched out, and who shall turn it back?”
Basil. But you have not yet told us of Nikkanochee. Please to let us hear all about him.
Brian. Ay; we have forgotten Nikkanochee.
Hunter. I will now tell you all that I know of him; but I thought you would like to hear of his uncle, he being so famous a warrior. Nikkanochee is called Oseola Nikkanochee, prince of Econchatti, in order that he may bear in mind Oseola, his warlike uncle, and also Econchatti-mico, king of the Red Hills, his father. It is thought that Nikkanochee was born on the banks of the river Chattahoochee. He can just remember the death of his mother, when he was left alone with her in a wigwam; but what I have to tell you about Nikkanochee took place during the lifetime of his father, and his uncle Oseola. The white men being at war with the Seminoles, the war-men of the latter were obliged to band themselves together to fight, leaving their squaws and children to travel as well as they could to a place of safety. Nikkanochee, child as he was, travelled with the women through the pine forests night and day; but a party of horse-soldiers overtook them, and drove them as captives towards the settlements of the whites.
Brian. Ay! now Nikkanochee is a prisoner! What is to become of him now?
Hunter. The mothers were almost frantic. The wigwams they saw on the road had been destroyed by fire, and the whole country had been devastated. At nightfall they came to a village; and here, when it grew dark, Nikkanochee, a little girl and two Indian women made their escape. For some days they fled, living on water-melons and Indian corn, till they fell in with a party of their own war-men, and among them was Nikkanochee’s father.
Austin. I hope they were safe then.