THE Indians inhabiting the Everglades before the Seminole war had been driven there from the adjacent islands by conquest. They did not belong to this tribe. They spoke Spanish, and many of them had been baptized in Havana. Their pursuits were quite different—they fished and followed the sea as a means of support, having never been ten miles from the shore. No account has ever been written by modern explorers in that region which gives the reader as correct an idea of the topography of the country as the one given by the engineer who accompanied Colonel Harney, Jan. 1, 1841. Those who visit there now and return, appear to have a commingling of scenery—the flowers, the grass, and water, all being blended, the quantity of each not designated. This grass-water country is said to be like no other place in the world—a sea of water filled with grass and green trees, that can only be approached by canoes, which must be pulled through the mud and saw-grass, and then paddled when the water is of sufficient depth, with a black soil of measureless extent.

The following interesting extracts will enable us to form an idea of the energy and enterprise required during the Seminole war to penetrate the fastness of a country where the foes intrenched themselves, and from which they made sallies upon the unwary more to be dreaded than any disease which visited them. The expedition was conducted by Colonel W. S. Harney. His forces were distributed in four or five large canoes, carrying from six to ten men each; the greater number went in boats made for the purpose, containing five men each. Orders were given that every man should be provided with twenty days’ rations, sixty rounds of ball and cartridge, with the necessary blankets, etc. The most perfect silence was to be observed by all; orders communicated by signal-whistles, with which the officers were supplied; the boats moving in single file, twenty paces apart, every man ready to drop his paddle and seize his gun at a moment’s notice. The dragoons were armed with Colt’s repeating rifles, and, being under command of Colonel Harney, formed a well-tried band of experienced Indian-fighters. Half an hour after sunset, and during a shower of rain, the command left Fort Dallas, which is situated on the bay at the mouth of Indian River, eight miles above Kev Biscayne—Colonel Harney in advance, with Mico as guide, and negro John as interpreter, the army next, and the navy in the rear. After passing up the bay seven miles, they entered the mouth of Little River, a tortuous and extremely rapid outlet from the Everglades, where they struggled against the current until after midnight, when they reached their first resting-place—the site of an old plantation—where they landed.

January 2.—The guide says that by not starting from here until toward night, we will reach Chitto—Tustenuggee’s Island—an hour or two before daybreak to-morrow; we therefore retained our position as much as possible in the grass and thickets until 4 P.M., when we started, but in reversed order—the colonel in advance, the navy next, and the army in the rear. After passing up a few miles of swift rapids, we entered the Everglades at sunset, and, skirting along a projecting elbow of the pine barren for two miles, lay concealed behind the point of it until quite dark. We then moved forward swiftly and noiselessly, at one time following the course of serpentine channels opening out occasionally into beautiful lagoons, at another forcing our way through barriers of saw-grass. After several hours of hard paddling, we came in sight of Chitto’s Island, when the signal was passed “to close up.” Moving cautiously, we took our positions around the island, and lay in anxious expectation of the signal to move up and effect a landing. An advance-guard, having been sent in to reconnoiter, after some time reported that the enemy had left the island, and, in a tone of bitter disappointment, the colonel gave the word, “Move up and land; the Indians have escaped.”

January 3.—Chitto—Tustenuggee’s, or Snake Warrior’s Island—is a most beautiful spot, containing from eighteen to twenty acres; the soil is extremely rich, and about two feet deep, with a basis of rotten limestone. The center is cleared, but the circumference is well protected by immense live-oak and wild fig-trees, with an almost impenetrable thicket of wild mangroves. There are two towns, two dancing-grounds, and one council-lodge, on this island. With the exception of the dancing-ground and a small patch of fine Cuba tobacco, the whole clearing is overrun with pumpkin, squash, and melon vines, with occasionally Lima beans in great luxuriance, and of a most excellent quality. The Indians have been gone at least two weeks, having left behind them all useless articles, such as war-dance masks, supernumerary baskets, kettles, fishing-spears, etc. At 11 o’clock the colonel dispatched a small force to reconnoiter Tuconee’s Island, which lies about three miles west of us. They returned at 4 P.M., reporting recent signs of a woman and child. The only trophies they obtained were some ears of green corn and a few stalks of sugar-cane.

January 4.—Started this morning for Sam Jones’s Island. He is said to hold a strong position, having seventy warriors with him; the only fear entertained by officers or men is that he may have left the island and gone to Big Cypress. After paddling until 3 P.M., we reached a small cluster of trees, from the tops of which the guide said that Sam Jones’s camp was visible; he was accordingly sent aloft to make an observation, and soon pronounced the place deserted. This information changed the colonel’s programme, and, instead of waiting until night should conceal his movements, he advanced immediately toward the island; however, not omitting to send out flanking parties, and an advance-guard to reconnoiter. Before sunset we had all landed, and were enjoying our biscuit and bacon, in the midst of an Indian village.

January 5.—Sam Jones’s possessions consist of a group of several islands, differing in size and separated by narrow sluices. Upon the largest of these, which is about one hundred and fifty yards in width and half a mile in length, are three villages and dancing-grounds, the general features being the same as Chitto’s Island, but the soil sandy. There are no villages on the other islands, but they have been cleared in the center and planted with pumpkins, melons, and corn, which were all destroyed. Our greatest annoyance at this place was the immense number of fleas, cockroaches, and musquitoes. Every thing you touched—even the ground—was alive with the former, which, with the musquitoes, attacked our persons, while the roaches luxuriated on our provisions. The whole group of islands, called Army and Navy Group, is nearly a mile and a half in length, and presented no recent signs of Indians.

January 6.—At 8 A.M. passed over three miles to the Pine Keys, and scoured the whole extent; returned at night, hungry and fatigued, to Sam Jones’s camp. Started early the next morning for the Prophet’s Island, which, according to Mico, is two suns from there. At 11 A.M. stopped and destroyed a flourishing crop of young corn. At 3 P.M. came to another small island uncleared: upon sending John up a tree to look out, he reported two Indians in canoes, two miles distant, approaching us. Orders were given to lie close, as they were evidently coming to the island. In a few minutes John reported they had seen us, and were going back. The colonel gave chase, but, finding there was not water enough for his large canoe, transferred the guide to Captain McLaughlin’s boat, and directed him to move on in pursuit—the light-boats of the artillery to accompany the captain and his command. The colonel, with the large canoes, returned to the island, and sent up a lookout, who reported the Indians not visible, but our boats still going at speed, and rapidly nearing a small island about three miles distant. Colonel H., becoming impatient, and feeling confident that he could find a passage across without any guide, left for the other island, and reached it just as some of the advance boats flushed a party consisting of four warriors, five squaws, and two children; each warrior had a separate canoe, containing his family and worldly possessions. They left the boats to the care of the women, and took to the grass-water, loading and firing as they ran. Three of the warriors were soon shot, three squaws and one child taken, and the other drowned by its mother to prevent its cries leading to her detection. Night approaching, one warrior and two squaws, favored by the darkness, escaped. Only one soldier was slightly wounded in this enterprise. Early this morning Colonel H. sent out a small force to follow the trail of the other warrior, and endeavor, if possible, to take him alive, as he had ascertained from the squaws it was Chia, one of the best guides in the whole Territory. After following the trail five miles, they came up with a squaw (Chia’s wife), and took her; a few yards farther beyond, on hearing a rustling in the grass, several of the men leaped into the water, when one of the marines, in the act of springing from the boat, was shot in the side by the Indian, who ran a few paces, reloading his rifle, and, as Sergeant Searles, of the Third Artillery, rushed toward him, he turned and fired at only five paces, wounding the sergeant mortally, who, however, did not retreat. Chia then struck at him with his rifle; but, blinded and fainting as he was, from loss of blood, he quickly rallied for a last effort, and threw himself upon the Indian’s neck, crying, “I have him!” Chia then drew his knife, and was about to stab his captor, when a soldier arrested his murderous hand. After securing the captive, the sergeant was lifted into a canoe and brought back to the island, where his wounds were examined and dressed by the medical officer. The ball was found to have passed through the right arm, entered the right side, breaking a rib, opening the right lung, and passing into the liver.

January 9.—Last night we were obliged to sleep in our boats, and, in addition to this discomfort, it rained hard, with a cold south wind all night. Chia says that Sam Jones, on hearing of Colonel Harney’s first expedition, had sent over to the Seminoles for powder and lead, saying that he would go into the Big Cypress, where, if pursued, he would fight until death. Chia and his party were going to join him, and he (with a gallows in prospective, should he prove false) promises faithfully to guide us thither. In consequence of this information we returned to Sam Jones’s Island, which we reached at noon.

January 10.—The description given of Sam Jones’s present position is such as would intimidate almost anybody from attempting to dislodge them but Colonel Harney. At 8 A.M. we started for the head-waters of New River, which we reached at sunset, and passed down the stream to Fort Lauderdale, where we arrived at midnight.

January 11.—Having disposed of the wounded men and female prisoners, we left Lauderdale at sunset, and ascended the New River, entering the Everglades by the right-hand branch, an hour before sunrise.

January 12.—After allowing the men two hours’ rest, we moved to a group of keys, lying between the expanse of the Everglades and the edge of the Big Cypress. It was here that Chia expected to find the main body of the enemy; but, upon examination of the signs, he pronounced that they had gone on to Okee-cho-bee. With a heart full of disappointment, Colonel Harney found his schemes thwarted by the cowardice of the Indians, who had fled panic-stricken upon hearing of Chai-kai-kee’s fate, and deserted their inaccessible retreats. At noon the navy left us, taking with them Mico and negro John as guides across the Everglades, in the direction of the first expedition. After dinner we bore away for Lauderdale, and, aided by the swift current of New River, reached our destination at 8 P.M.

January 13.—Colonel Harney this morning started with twenty men to search for a reported passage from the New River into the Hillsboro Inlet; the low stage of the water proving an insurmountable obstacle, he returned at sundown, giving orders to prepare for moving homeward to-morrow.

January 15.—At early dawn the canoes were hauled over from the beach into the bay, when, in passing down it, we reached Fort Dallas at noon. The Pay-hai-o-kee (grass-water, or Everglades) comprises a large portion of Southern Florida, lying south of the twenty-seventh degree of latitude, and separated from the Atlantic, or Gulf of Mexico, by a pine barren, varying in width from five to twenty or more miles. There are a number of outlets on the eastern, or Atlantic coast, while on the western, or Gulf coast, there is only one, now named after its first navigator, Harney River. The appearance presented upon entering the Everglades is that of an immense prairie, stretching farther than the eye can reach, covered by thick saw-grass, rising six feet above the surface of the water, which it conceals—the monotony varied by numerous snake-like channels and verdant islands, scattered few and far between—the average depth of water over the whole extent being from two to four feet. The channels vary in width from ten to twenty feet above the usual water-level, though, no doubt, in very wet seasons occasionally overflowed—the water all being clear and wholesome—and even where no current was perceptible there was no appearance of stagnation.

The results of this expedition, although apparently not very brilliant, have only been surpassed in usefulness by those of the first Everglade expedition, undertaken and prosecuted with such untiring energy and eminent success by Colonel Harney. The knowledge acquired of the nature of the country, the localities of the lands, and strength of the positions, occupied by two of the most formidable chiefs, is of itself ample reward for the privations and sufferings necessarily encountered during a movement in open boats, with no tents, a limited supply of blankets and provisions, exposed to the sun by day and the dew at night, to the drenching rain and chilly blast, but rarely allowed the luxury of fires, and eating food which it required a strong appetite to relish.

The Everglades extend from the head of the St. John’s, on the north, to within ten or fifteen miles of Cape Florida, on the south. This land is believed to be twenty or thirty feet above the level of tide-water, and is susceptible of being rendered perfectly dry by deepening and widening the various outlets or rivers that flow through it, from the lakes to the sea. The lakes near the center of the Everglades are deep and navigable, connecting with one another throughout the entire distance.

The tropical region of the peninsula reaches from Cape Florida about two hundred miles north. The soil of the country has been pronounced by all explorers very rich, it being only covered with water in the rainy season. When the resources of this tropical region are utilized, the importance of Florida can hardly be appreciated too highly. Besides the growth of cultured fruits, the Manilla hemp is one of the indigenous products of the soil; the Indians used it in making ropes and mats, and formerly supplied the Spaniards with halters, lines, and bed-cords, at cheap rates—it was called grass-rope. The cotton-plant found here is the same as that raised on plantations, differing only in the smallness of the leaf and pod, length and fineness of the fibers—it produces two or three years without being replanted.

January, 1841.—Colonel Harney has been on two expeditions in the Everglades; captured thirty-nine Indians; pressed into service a slave, formerly the property of Doctor Cruise, as a guide, he having been in the hands of the enemy. He conducted the colonel to a camp where the Indians were assembled, who fought, but were soon overpowered, when Colonel Harney hung ten of the warriors, Chekika among the number, who led the attack on Indian Key.

St. Augustine, January, 1841.—An ovation was given to General Harney, after his return from the Everglade expedition, when the St. Augustine Market-house was brilliantly illumined. A large transparency bore the inscriptions, “Lieutenant-colonel W. S. Harney, Everglades!” “No more Treaties!” “Remember Caloosahatchee!” “War to the Rope!” with the device of an Indian suspended from a tree. A band of music played in the plaza, cannon were fired, together with many other loud demonstrations of joy at the prospect of peace.

The few may have smiled, but the many wept in tears of blood, and wailed in sackcloth and ashes, over the long train of evils that followed the Treaty of Payne’s Landing—a compact of which many had never heard until they began to suffer under the ineffectual attempts to carry it into execution. What a tale of sorrow could the poor, suffering soldiers unfold, who had to march through the saw-grass and saw-palmetto, with their serrated edges, which seized their clothes and flesh as they passed, marking their pathway with tatters and blood!

In South Florida, bounded on the north by Lake Ogeechubee—the largest body of water in the State, it being fifty miles in length, and twenty in width—is a tract of country known as the Everglades, comprising an area of six hundred miles. Here dwells the remnant of a race of men which required more time to subdue, and cost the Government more money, than the Colonial war with Great Britain. They are ruled by chiefs, according to their ancient patriarchal custom, the royal line being transmitted from parent to child, as in monarchical governments.

Old and young Tiger Tail are both living now, the senior chief being almost a century of age. It was his father that built an Indian village where Tallahassee now stands, and in which place he first saw the light.

Old Tiger Tail murdered his sister, who favored emigration, to which he was opposed. After going to the West he became much dissatisfied, when he made his way to the wilds of Mexico, where he intrenched himself in the natural fastness among the mountains. From this fortress he made frequent sallies upon the inhabitants, killing when he met resistance, and carrying away whatever plunder of value he could seize upon. He was joined by others, who were living as outlaws in their own country, thus combining the cunning of the Indian with the brigand spirit of the Mexican, forming an alliance more to be dreaded than the wily movements of the Chieftain Osceola. He is a battle-scarred warrior, and can relate with much accuracy every different engagement where he was wounded. He is friendly with some visitors; has a summer and winter home, where he camps each season.

The Indians visit Fort Pierce, on the Indian River, as a trading-point, when they bring buckskins, potatoes, pumpkins, and honey, to sell. The wild honey brought to market from all parts of the State is a sufficient proof of its adaptability to the production of that commodity for settlers to engage in the enterprise of bee-culture. In addition to the blossoms of annuals and orange-trees, a honey-dew exudes from some of the trees at certain seasons—the magnolia, poplar, wahoo, and sweet-gum—from which the bees can gather largely.

Father Dufau recently visited the Everglades as a missionary, but, meeting with poor encouragement, returned. He does not bring favorable reports in regard to their mental or spiritual improvement. The Indians regard the “pale faces” with suspicion and distrust. They have been duped so often by the whites that their chief forbids the females speaking to them. They have no forms of religion, but worship the Great Spirit and planets, wearing devices of the moon. Father Dufau had a pair of silver ear-rings, made by them, the pendant portion resembling a crescent. These were formerly owned and worn by Tiger Tail, who sold them for whisky.

Slaves are still regarded as property with them, the difference in caste between master and servant not being distinguishable. Polygamy is becoming unpopular with them now. Tiger Tail has two wives; but the oldest squaw claims priority, causing the stream of harmony to flow in divided currents. She says, “Two squaws no good.” The soil teems with verdure all the year, and they live without solicitude, either temporally or spiritually. In hunting, they require neither guns nor dogs, but imitate whatever beast or bird they propose to capture, and when their prey approaches near enough, shoot it with arrows. The water found in the Everglades is very clear, thus enabling them to fish without hooks or nets, by shooting the fish, which they do with great skill.

The men dress in deerskin breeches, wearing calico coats, with long skirts, and various patterns sewed on them. The squaws are all clothed like our cracker country females—the younger ones displaying their fondness for beads by wearing four pounds around their necks. The funniest of all is how they received that irrational style of having their hair banged like white girls, and surprises visitors very much. Some of the younger warriors expressed a desire to be taught to read, measure, and weigh. They speak little English, but communicate mostly by signs.

Father Dufau had to walk wherever he went, after leaving Key Biscayne Bay, his speed at times being accelerated more than was agreeable by water-moccasins and alligators.

The Everglades still retain their primeval state, guarded with ample care by towering live-oaks, the majestic grandiflora, and the aromatic bay, from which the yellow jasmine swings her airy bowers, and where the polyglot bird trills his joyful notes, the velvet-plumaged paroquet chatters to his mate, and the red-bird whistles shrill sounds of joy, while high above all, swinging in mid-air, the golden oriole is listening from her pendent bower for the first sounds of vitality which will echo from her nestlings. The foot of man, in his march of progress, has never penetrated these wilds of natural beauty—a solitude tempered by sea-breezes, unvisited by wintry winds, where moonbeams sleep on glassy waters, unmoved by the tempest’s roar or the trident of Neptune.