HE first treaty of Payne's Landing, which was signed in May, 1832, required the Seminoles to give up all their lands in Florida and to go west of the Mississippi. Only seven chiefs signed the treaty for their people, nearly all of whom were bitterly opposed to it. In their rage they killed two signers, and replaced them with a bitter enemy of the project. One of the indignant chiefs, when asked to give his views of the Treaty of Payne's Landing, strode to the table where the paper lay, hunting knife in hand, and exclaimed:

"That is my opinion!"

As he spoke, he brought down the knife with such force that the point passed through the paper and the top of the table on which it lay. The chief who did this startling thing was Osceola, the most famous leader of the Seminoles.

Did you ever hear of a war that was caused by the dispute over the meaning of a single pronoun? Such was the Seminole War, one of the most long drawn out and trying in the history of our country.

In the treaty referred to the removal of the tribe west of the Mississippi was made conditional. It said, "Should they be satisfied with the character of the country." Who was meant by "they?" President Jackson insisted that it was the seven signers of the treaty (of whom two were killed), while the Seminoles were as firm in arguing that it referred to the whole tribe, whose opinion was to be formed after their agents had examined the region and made their report. Candor forces us to say that the red men had the better of the argument. Nor need it be denied that wrong pressure was brought to bear on the consenting chiefs. They were paid to misrepresent the wishes of their people, and, like their civilized brethren, were open to such base inducements.

As the time drew near for removal, it became clear that the Seminoles had no intention of going. General Wiley Thompson, the agent, called the real Indian chiefs together in October, 1834, and talked pointedly, impressing upon them the firm resolve of the government to make them obey the terms of the treaty. The dusky leaders were not scared, and told him the whole business was a fraud, and they would never accept it. The most outspoken of the chiefs was Osceola.

The conference having adjourned without result, was again called some time later, to hear the message of President Jackson, which was as direct as that sturdy man knew how to make his words. It was useless; the chiefs knew they had been cheated and remained defiant. What specially angered Osceola was that some of them, upon whom he had counted for support, were won over by the agent. This was done no doubt through the corrupt means that had convinced those who reported favorably on the country selected for their new homes beyond the Mississippi. He accused General Thompson of unfairness. The quarrel became so heated that the agent had Osceola put in irons. He was kept over night and a part of two days, finally gaining his release by promising General Thompson to sign the treaty, and use his influence to persuade the other chiefs to do the same.

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.

Osceola agreed to this, but had hardly done so, when General Clinch, with several hundred armed men appeared near them. He had just arrived with supplies for the army, and had no other thought in mind, but Osceola believed the whole thing was a trap, and he and his warriors dashed into the woods in precipitous flight.

General Scott now took command in Florida. Fighting went on all through the summer, with no real advantage to either side. The Seminoles met with several successes, but when cool weather came again, no actual gain had been made by the Americans. Congress had to grant funds to save many of the settlers from starvation. The whole country became impatient. Again and again, reports were printed that the final blow to the revolt had been given and peace was secured at last; but, hardly was this news read when it was followed by tidings of some startling success of the hostiles. If any of the readers of these pages are old enough to remember the Seminole War, they will recall those trying months and years with their "hope long deferred."

In September, 1836, a hatless man dashed into Jacksonville, with the report that his home, only seven miles away, was attacked by Indians. Volunteers hurried to the relief of the besieged, who, it was found, had been able to hold off their assailants; but several neighbors had been slain and their houses burned.

The Creeks and Seminoles, considered as tribes, had long been enemies. In fact, one cause of the anger of the latter over the Treaty of Payne's Landing was that it located the Seminoles near the former in Indian Territory. Two Creek chiefs with nearly a thousand warriors, now joined the United States forces. This was "fighting fire with fire," and many saw in it the certainty that the war must soon be brought to a close.

But the aimless fighting went on. The Seminoles showed marked valor, and succeeded in defeating the soldiers with severe losses. General Jessup having declined to take chief command in Florida, Governor Call did so, sure of soon forcing the Seminoles to sue for peace. He did all that was possible, and it amounted to nothing. Then the Secretary of War ordered General Jessup to take command again. He did so, and set the main army in motion, in January, 1837.

Great was the relief of that officer, when he received proposals of peace from the Seminoles. They kept straggling in until, before the close of May, three thousand, among whom were many women and children, were gathered at one of the posts on Lake Monroe. Rations were issued to them, and among the chiefs was Osceola himself. More than that, he had eaten at the table of General Barney, and slept in his tent. He and all the chiefs said over and over again, that they had made up their minds to offer no further opposition to their removal to the new lands beyond the Mississippi. General Jessup breathed easier, for he was surely warranted in believing the end was at hand.

Twenty-four transports lay at Tampa to take away the Indians; but when the day came for them to embark, not a warrior, squaw or papoose was to be seen. All had taken to the woods again in obedience to the command of Osceola. It is hard to understand why he did this thing. Could it be in obedience to a waggish disposition? Did he wish to humiliate General Jessup, and through him the American army? Or did he seek a few good meals for his people, and more knowledge for himself of the plans of his enemies?

The whole war was not marked by a more provoking occurrence. A large party of the army was prostrated by sickness, and many had been given furlough, so that the strength of our forces in Florida was less than it had been for a long time. The Seminoles were greatly heartened by the trick, and became more daring than ever. The Territory of Florida was swept by a reign of terror, and the conquest of the redskins seemed farther off than ever.

What could be more natural than that General Jessup should be filled with hot resentment against Osceola, the cause of his humiliation? He resolved never to trust him again, and to relax no effort to kill or make him prisoner.

In the month of October, 1837, a message came to Fort Peyton from Osceola to the effect that he was a short distance away and desired an interview with General Hernandez. He asked General Jessup to come out and talk with him. Instead of replying, that officer ordered one of his lieutenants to lure Osceola and his companions into the fort, and then make them prisoners. But the Seminole was too wily to be trapped and declined the invitation.

General Hernandez was now sent with two hundred and fifty men to hold a parley with the Seminoles, and the lieutenant was told to report whether the answers of the Indians were satisfactory. He came back after a short time with word that they were not. Jessup then ordered Major Ashby to seize the whole party, and this, too, despite the fact that the meeting was under a flag of truce.

It was so done. Seventy-five Indians, including Osceola, were made prisoners under the white flag, and without the firing of a gun, October 23, 1837, and the act was accepted by our government.

While the deed must ever remain a blot upon our honor, it is only fair to name some of the circumstances that were urged in excuse. The Seminoles themselves had repeatedly violated flags of truce, and were so treacherous that they had placed themselves outside the pale of civilized warfare. Furthermore, there was every reason to doubt the honesty of Osceola and his brother chiefs. They had made the same professions before, for no reason except to gain time. Finally, there was every cause to believe that his capture and that of the prominent leaders would either end, or hasten the end, of the war, and prevent the shedding of a great deal of innocent blood through the termination of hostilities.

These arguments named may be accepted as a partial excuse for the act of General Jessup, though it cannot be justified. All the abuse he had suffered before was as nothing compared to that now heaped upon his head, but he had probably become used to that sort of thing, and believed that when peace speedily followed, those who blamed him would speak words of praise. But peace did not come, and the war dragged on for year after year.

Osceola and his brother prisoners were sent to St. Augustine. The leader was soon after removed to Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor. His heart was broken, his spirit crushed, and he pined away and died within the following year. That he possessed courage and much strength of character cannot be denied, though in no respect was he the equal of several leaders of his race who have been named in these pages in the true stories that have been told.

We have said so much about the Seminole War that it is well to sum up its history. It has been stated that the capture of Osceola and many leading chiefs failed to bring the struggle to an end, as nearly every one believed it would do. General Zachary Taylor succeeded General Jessup in command, and marched from Fort Gardener at the close of the year, 1837. "Rough and Ready" became President of the United States something more than ten years later, because of the fine record he made in our war with Mexico. In his biographies, much notice was given to the battle of Lake Okeechobee, which was fought on that body of water. It was the conflict of the war with the Seminoles. The issue more than once was doubtful, but in the end the Americans drove the enemy from the field. The loss of the soldiers was twenty-eight killed and a hundred and eleven wounded. Four companies had every officer, with one exception, killed.

The rough handling which the Indians received made them more wary than before about risking a battle in the open. The affrays were too numerous to be recorded. In one case, General Jessup was badly hurt, and had ten men killed and thirty wounded. Convinced by this time that it was impossible to drive out the Seminoles from Florida, he wrote to the Secretary of War advising that a certain part of the Territory be set apart for them. The Secretary gave no attention to the suggestion.

Finally, after all methods, including the violation of the flag of truce, had failed, a novel plan was tried. General Jessup proposed that bloodhounds should be used to run down the Indians, who hitherto had found refuge in the swamps. General Taylor and the administration approved the scheme, it being declared that the dogs were to be used for no other purpose than to track the redskins. Despite the storm of protests raised throughout the country, thirty-three hounds were imported from Cuba, and five Spaniards were hired to handle them, the cost of the venture being several thousand dollars.

High hopes were felt of the success of this plan, but, to the dismay of its authors, the canines having been trained to track negroes, refused to take the scent of an Indian. By urging, several were made to follow the scent, but the results were more discouraging than in the case of the others. The red men waited in the woods till the savage brutes came up to them, when they made friends with them and used the dogs to trail the owners themselves!

General Taylor was relieved by General McComb in April, 1838. He succeeded in getting a few of the Seminoles, who came in with their families, to consent to be shipped to the lands set apart for them beyond the Mississippi. After coddling several scores of prisoners, he sent them back to their brethren under their promise to try to persuade the others to move, but no results followed.

Not only were scores of settlers slain, but many small companies of soldiers were cut off. General Armistead succeeded to the command in 1840. He roused some hope by his kindly policy. He had a number of chiefs brought from Indian Territory, taking care to select those who had strongly opposed at first the removal thither, but had changed their views, and sent them among the hostiles. Whether they really tried to convince the discontented ones of their error or not, is uncertain. But though several meetings were held, the hostiles refused to listen, fled to the woods and swamps, and renewed the war with the old-time ferocity.

General Armistead, in his disappointment, wrote to the Secretary of War:

"Thus have ended all our well-grounded hopes of bringing the war to a close by pacific measures. Confident in the resources of the country, the enemy will hold out to the last, and can never be induced to come in again. Immediately upon the withdrawal of the Indians, orders were transmitted to commanders of the various regiments to put their troops in motion, and before this reaches you there will be scouting in every direction."

And now, at last the right man came forward in the person of General William J. Worth, who took military charge in Florida in the spring of 1841. During the summer months, he sent parties of men who made their way far into the swamps to the islands, where the Seminoles had planted the crops on which they depended for support during the winter. These were destroyed, and a bright chief was brought as a prisoner to Tampa. He listened to the arguments of General Worth, and was impressed by them. The general invited him to select five of his fellow prisoners, and they were returned to the camp of the hostiles, with word that if they did not come in and surrender by a certain date to be fixed by the chief himself, he and all his fellow captives should be hanged.

This message did the work. The fierce heroes who had defied the United States for so many years, knew that they would starve if they stayed in their retreats and that their leading chief and others would have to die unless the surrender was made. So the barefooted, emaciated Seminoles, negroes and mongrels, and their ragged women and children, stalked out of the regions of twilight and gloom, handed over their flintlocks, joined the procession beyond the Mississippi, and the Seminole War came to an end.