Chapter Thirty Eight. Cashiering the Chiefs
To-day the commissioner showed a bolder front. A bold part had he resolved to play, but he felt sure of success; and consequently there was an air of triumph in his looks. He regarded the chiefs with the imperious glance of one determined to command them; confident they would yield obedience to his wishes.
At intervals his eye rested upon Osceola with a look of peculiar significance, at once sinister and triumphant. I was in the secret of that glance: I guessed its import; I knew that it boded no good to the young Seminole chief. Could I have approached him at that moment, I should have held duty but lightly, and whimpered in his ear a word of warning.
I was angry with myself that I had not thought of this before. Haj-Ewa could have borne a message on the previous night; why did I not send it? My mind had been too full. Occupied with my own thoughts, I had not thought of the danger that threatened my friend – for in this light I still regarded Powell.
I had no exact knowledge of what was meant; though, from the conversation I had overheard, I more than half divined the commissioner’s purpose. Upon some plea, Osceola was to be arrested.
A plea was needed; the outrage could not be perpetrated without one. Even the reckless agent might not venture upon such a stretch of power without plausible pretext; and how was this pretext to be obtained?
The withdrawal of Onopa and the “hostiles,” while Omatla with the “friendlies” remained, had given the agent the opportunity. Osceola himself was to furnish the plea.
Would that I could have whispered in his ear one word of caution!
It was too late: the toils had been laid – the trap set; and the noble game was about to enter it. It was too late for me to warn him. I must stand idly by – spectator to an act of injustice – a gross violation of right.
A table was placed in front of the ground occupied by the general and staff; the commissioner stood immediately behind it. Upon this table was an inkstand with pens; while a broad parchment, exhibiting the creases of many folds, was spread out till it occupied nearly the whole surface. This parchment was the treaty of the Oclawaha.
“Yesterday,” began the commissioner, without further preamble, “we did nothing but talk – to-day we are met to act. This,” said he, pointing to the parchment, “is the treaty of Payne’s Landing. I hope you have all considered what I said yesterday, and are ready to sign it?”
“We have considered,” replied Omatla for himself and those of his party. “We are ready to sign.”
“Onopa is head chief,” suggested the commissioner; “let him sign first. Where is Miconopa?” he added, looking around the circle with feigned surprise.
“The mico-mico is not here.”
“And why not here? He should have been here. Why is he absent?”
“He is sick – he is not able to attend the council.”
“That is a lie, Jumper. Miconopa is shamming – you know he is.”
The dark brow of Hoitle-mattee grew darker at the insult, while his body quivered with rage. A grunt of disdain was all the reply he made, and folding his arms, he drew back into his former attitude.
“Abram! you are Miconopa’s private counsellor – you know his intentions. Why has he absented himself?”
“O Massr Ginral!” replied the black in broken English, and speaking without much show of respect for his interrogator, “how shed ole Abe know the ’tention of King Nopy? The mico no tell me ebberting – he go he please – he come he please – he great chief; he no tell nobody his ’tention.”
“Does he intend to sign? Say yes or no.”
“No, den!” responded the interpreter, in a firm voice, as if forced to the answer. “That much ob his mind Abe do know. He no ’tend to sign that ar dockament. He say no, no.”
“Enough!” cried the commissioner in a loud voice – “enough! Now hear me, chiefs and warriors of the Seminole nation! I appear before you armed with a power from your Great Father the President – he who is chief of us all. That power enables me to punish for disloyalty and disobedience; and I now exercise that right upon Miconopa. He is no longer king of the Seminoles!”
This unexpected announcement produced an effect upon the audience similar to that of an electric shock. It started the chiefs and warriors into new attitudes, and all stood looking eagerly at the speaker. But the expression upon their faces was not of like import – it varied much. Some showed signs of anger as well as surprise. A few appeared pleased, while the majority evidently received the announcement with incredulity.
Surely the commissioner was jesting? How could he make or unmake a king of the Seminoles? How could the Great Father himself do this? The Seminoles were a free nation; they were not even tributary to the whites – under no political connection whatever. They themselves could alone elect their king – they only could depose him. Surely the commissioner was jesting?
Not at all. In another moment, they perceived he was in earnest. Foolish as was the project of deposing King Onopa, he entertained it seriously. He had resolved to carry it into execution; and as far as decrees went, he did so without further delay.
“Omatla! you have been faithful to your word and your honour; you are worthy to head a brave nation. From this time forth, you are King of the Seminoles. Our Great Father, and the people of the United States, hail you as such; they will acknowledge no other. Now – let the signing proceed.”
At a gesture from the commissioner, Omatla stepped forward to the table, and taking the pen in his hand, wrote his name upon the parchment.
The act was done in perfect silence. But one voice broke the deep stillness – one word only was heard uttered with angry aspirate; it was the word “traitor.”
I looked round to discover who had pronounced it; the hiss was still quivering upon the lips of Osceola; while his eye was fixed on Omatla with a glance of ineffable scorn.
“Black Crazy Clay” next took the pen, and affixed his signature, which was done by simply making his “mark.”
After him follower Ohala, Itolasse Omatla, and about a dozen – all of whom were known as the chiefs that favoured the scheme of removal.
The hostile chiefs – whether by accident or design I know not – stood together, forming the left wing of the semi-circle. It was now their turn to declare themselves.
Hoitle-mattee was the first about whose signing the commissioner entertained any doubt. There was a pause, significant of apprehension.
“It is your turn, Jumper,” said the latter at length, addressing the chief by his English name.
“You may jump me, then,” replied the eloquent and witty chief, making a jest of what he meant for earnest as well.
“How? you refuse to sign?”
“Hoitle-mattee does not write.”
“It is not necessary; your name is already written; you have only to place your finger upon it.”
“I might put my finger on the wrong place.”
“You can sign by making a cross,” continued the agent, still in hopes that the chief would consent.
“We Seminoles have but little liking for the cross; we had enough of it in the days of the Spaniards. Hulwak!”
“Then you positively refuse to sign?”
“Ho! Mister Commissioner does it surprise you?”
“Be it so, then. Now hear what I have to say to you.”
“Hoitle-mattee’s ears are as open as the commissioner’s mouth,” was the sneering rejoinder.
“I depose Hoitle-mattee from the chieftainship of his clan. The Great Father will no longer recognise him as chief of the Seminoles.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” came the scornful laugh in reply. “Indeed – indeed! And tell me,” he asked, still continuing to laugh, and treating with derision the solemn enunciation of the commissioner, “of whom am I to be chief, General Thompson.”
“I have pronounced,” said the agent, evidently confused and nettled by the ironical manner of the Indian; “you are no more a chief – we will not acknowledge you as one.”
“But my people? – what of them?” asked the other in a fine tone of irony; “have they nothing to say in this matter?”
“Your people will act with reason. They will listen to their Great Father’s advice. They will no longer obey a leader who has acted without faith.”
“You say truly, agent,” replied the chief, now speaking seriously. “My people will act with reason, but they will also act with patriotism and fidelity. Do not flatter yourself on the potency of our Great Father’s advice. If it be given as a father’s counsel, they will listen to it; if not, they will shut their ears against it. As to your disposal of myself, I only laugh at the absurdity of the act. I treat both act and agent with scorn. I have no dread of your power. I have no fear of the loyalty of my people. Sow dissension among them as you please; you have been successful elsewhere in making traitors,” – here the speaker glared towards Omatla and his warriors – “but I disregard your machinations. There is not a man in my tribe that will turn his back upon Hoitle-mattee – not one.”
The orator ceased speaking, and, folding his arms, fell back into an attitude of silent defiance. He saw that the commissioner had done with him, for the latter was now appealing to Abram for his signature.
The black’s first answer was a decided negative – simply “No.” When urged to repeat his refusal, he added:
“No – by Jovah! I nebber sign the damned paper – nebber. Dat’s enuf – aint it, Bossy Thompson?”
Of course, this put an end to the appeal, and Abram was “scratched” from the list of chiefs.
Arpiucki followed next, and “Cloud” and the “Alligator,” and then the dwarf Poshalla. All these refused their signatures, and were in turn formally deposed from their dignities. So, likewise, were Holata Mico and others who were absent.
Most of the chiefs only laughed as they listened to the wholesale cashiering. It was ludicrous enough to hear this puny office holder of an hour pronounce edicts with all the easy freedom of an emperor!15
Poshala, the last who had been disgraced, laughed like the others; but the dwarf had a bitter tongue, and could not refrain from a rejoinder.
“Tell the fat agent,” cried he to the interpreter – “tell him that I shall be chief of the Seminoles when the rank weeds are growing over his great carcass – ha, ha!”
The rough speech was not carried to the ears of the commissioner. He did not even hear the scornful cachinnation that followed it, for his attention was now entirely occupied with one individual – the youngest of the chiefs – the last in the line – Osceola.
Note 1. The United States government afterwards disapproved of this absurd dethronement of the chiefs; but there is no doubt that Thompson acted under secret instructions from the President.