Osceola the Seminole: or, The Red Fawn of the Flower Land

“Nately done!” cried Gallagher; “there can be no mistake about the maynin of that.”

Nor was there. My antagonist accepted the act for what it was meant – a deadly insult. In such company, he could not do otherwise; and, muttering some indistinct threats, he walked away from the ground, attended by his especial friend, the lady-killer, and two or three others.

The incident, instead of gathering a crowd, had the contrary effect; it scattered the little group who had witnessed it; the officers retiring in-doors to discuss the motives, and speculate as as to when and where “the affair would come off.”

Gallagher and I also left the ground; and, closeted in my quarters, commenced preparing for the event.

Chapter Forty Two

The Challenge

At the time of which I write duelling was not uncommon in the United States army. In war-time, it is not uncommon yet, as I can testify from late experience. It is contrary to the regulations of the American service – as I believe it is of every other in the civilised world. Notwithstanding, an infringement of the code militaire in this regard, is usually looked upon with leniency – more often “winked at” than punished. This much I can affirm – that any officer in the American army who has received the “lie direct,” will find more honour in the breach of this military rule than in its observance.

After all that has been said and written about duelling, the outcry against it is a sad sham, at least in the United States of America – nothing less than a piece of superb hypocrisy. Universal as has been this condemnation, I should not like to take shelter under it. I well know that it would not protect me from being called by that ugly appellation, “poltroon.” I have noticed over and over again, that the newspapers loudest in their declamations against duelling, are the first to fling “coward” in the teeth of him who refuses to fight.

It is even so. In America, moral courage, though much be-praised, does not find ready credence. A refusal to meet the man who may challenge you is not thus explained. It is called “backing out,” “shewing the white feather;” and he who does this, need look no more upon his ladye-love; she would “flog him with her garters.”

More than once have I heard this threat, spoken by pretty lips, and in the centre of a brilliant circle. His moral courage must be great who would provoke such chastisement. With such a sentiment over the land, then, I had nailed Arens Ringgold for a meeting; and I joyed to think I had done so without compromising my secret.

But ah! it was a painful provocation he had given me; and if he had been the greatest coward in the world, he could not have been more wretched than I, as I returned to my quarters.

My jovial companion could no longer cheer me, though it was not fear for the coming fight that clouded my spirits. Far from it – far otherwise. I scarcely thought of that. My thoughts were of Maümee – of what I had just heard. She was false – false – betraying, herself betrayed – lost – lost forever!

In truth was I wretched. One thing alone could have rendered me more so – an obstacle to the anticipated meeting – anything to hinder my revenge. On the duel now rested my hopes. It might enable me to disembarrass my heart of the hot blood that was burning it. Not all – unless he too stood before me – he, the seducer who had made this misery. Would I could find pretext for challenging him. I should do so yet. Why had I not? Why did I not strike him for that smile? I could have fought them both at the same time, one after the other.

Thus I raved, with Gallagher by my side. My friend knew not all my secret. He asked what I had got “aginst the aide-de-cong.”

“Say the word, Geordie, boy, an’ we’ll make a four-handed game ov it. Be Saint Pathrick! I’d like mightily to take the shine out of that purty paycock!”

“No, Gallagher, no. It’s not your affair; you could not give me satisfaction for that. Let us wait till we know more. I cannot believe it – I cannot believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“Not now, my friend. When it is over I shall explain.”

“All right, my boy! Charley Gallagher’s not the man to disturb your saycrets. Now let’s look to the bull-dogs, an’ make shure they’re in barking condition. I hope the scamps won’t blab at head-quarters, an’ disappoint us after all.”

It was my only fear. I knew that arrest was possible – probable – certain, if my adversary wished it. Arrest would put an end to the affair; and I should be left in a worse position than ever. Ringgold’s father was gone – I had ascertained this favourable circumstance; but no matter. The commander-in-chief was the friend of the family – a word in his ear would be sufficient. I feared that the aide-de-camp Scott, instructed by Arens, might whisper that word.

“After all, he daren’t,” said Gallagher; “you driv the nail home, an’ clinched it. He daren’t do the dhirty thing – not a bit of it; it might get wind, an’ thin he’d have the kettle to his tail; besides, ma bohill, he wants to kill you anyhow; so he ought to be glad of the fine handy chance you’ve given him. He’s not a bad shot, they say. Never fear, Geordie, boy! he won’t back out this time; he must fight – he will fight. Ha! I told you so. See, yonder comes Apollo Belvidare! Holy Moses! how Phoebus shines!”

A knock – “Come in,” – the door was opened, and the aide-de-camp appeared in full uniform.

“To arrest me,” thought I, and my heart fell.

But no; the freshly written note spoke a different purpose, and I was relieved. It was the challenge.

“Lieutenant Randolph, I believe,” said the gentleman, advancing towards me.

I pointed to Gallagher, but made no reply.

“I am to understand that Captain Gallagher is your friend.”

I nodded assent.

The two faced each other, and the next instant were en rapport; talking the matter over as cool as cucumbers and sweet as sugar-plums.

From observation, I hazard this remark – that the politeness exhibited between the seconds in a duel cannot be surpassed by that of the most accomplished courtiers in the world.

The time occupied in the business was brief. Gallagher well knew the routine, and I saw that the other was not entirely unacquainted with it. In five minutes, everything was arranged – place, weapons, and distance.

I nodded; Gallagher made a sweeping salaam; the aide-de-camp bowed stiffly and withdrew.

I shall not trouble you with my reflections previous to the duel, nor yet with many details of the affair itself. Accounts of these deadly encounters are common enough in books, and their sameness will serve as my excuse for not describing one.

Ours differed only from the ordinary kind in the weapon used. We fought with rifles, instead of swords or pistols. It was my choice – as the challenged party, I had the right – but it was equally agreeable to my adversary, who was as well skilled in the use of the rifle as I. I chose this weapon because it was the deadliest.

The time arranged was an hour before sunset. I had urged this early meeting in fear of interruption; the place, a spot of level ground near the edge of the little pond where I had met Haj-Ewa; the distance, ten paces.

We met – took our places, back to back – waited for the ominous signal, “one, two, three,” – received it – faced rapidly round – and fired at each other.

I heard the “hist” of the leaden pellet as it passed my ear, but felt no stroke.

The smoke puffed upward. I saw my antagonist upon the ground: he was not dead; he was writhing and groaning.

The seconds, and several spectators who were present, ran up to him, but I kept my ground.

“Well, Gallagher?” I asked, as my friend came back to me.

“Winged, by japers! You’ve spoilt the use ov his dexter arm – bone broke above the ilbow-joint.”

“That all?”

“Arrah, sowl! aren’t it enough? Hear how the hound whimpers!”

I felt as the tiger is said to feel after tasting blood, though I cannot now account for my ferocity. The man had sought my life – I thirsted for his. This combined with the other thought had nigh driven me mad.

I was not satisfied, and would make no apology; but my antagonist had had enough; he was eager to be taken from the ground on any terms, and thus the affair ended.

It was my first duel, but not my last.

Chapter Forty Three

The Assignation

Our opponents passed silently away – the spectators along with them – leaving my second and myself upon the ground.

It was my intention to stay by the pond. I remembered the invitation of Haj-Ewa. By remaining, I should avoid the double journey. Better to await her coming.

A glance to the western horizon shewed me that the sun had already sunk below the tree-tops. The twilight would be short. The young moon was already in the heavens. It might be only a few minutes before Haj-Ewa should come. I resolved to stay.

I desired not that Gallagher should be with me; and I expressed the wish to be left alone.

My companion was a little surprised and puzzled at the request; but he was too well bred not to yield instant compliance.

“Why, Geordie, boy!” said he, about to retire, “shurely there’s something the matther wid ye? It isn’t this thrifling spurt we’ve been engaged in? Didn’t it ind intirely to your satisfaction? Arrah, man! are ye sorry you didn’t kill him dead? Be my trath, you look as milancholic and down-hearted as if he had killed you!”

“Dear friend, leave me alone. On my return to quarters, you shall know the cause of my melancholy, and why I now desire to part from your pleasant company.”

“Oh, that part I can guess,” rejoined he with a significant laugh; “always a petticoat where there’s shots exchanged. Niver mind, my boy, no saycrets for Charley Gallagher; I’m bad at keepin’ them. Ov coorse, you’re going to meet betther company than mine; but laste you might fall in with worse – an’ by my sowl! from what ye’ve towld me, that same isn’t beyond the bounds of probability – take this little cheeper. I’m a great dog-braker, you know.” Here the speaker handed me a silver call, which he had plucked from his button. “If any thing inconvenient or disagraable should turn up, put that between your lips, an’ Charley Gallagher will be at your side in the mention of Jack Robison’s name. Cupid spade ye with your lady-love. I’ll go an’ kill time over a tumbler ov nagus till ye come.”

So saying, my warm-hearted friend left me to myself.

I ceased to think of him ere he was gone out of sight – even the bloody strife, in which I had been so recently engaged, glided out of my mind. Maümee – her falsehood and her fall – alone occupied my thoughts.

For a long while, I made no doubt of what I had heard. How could I, with proofs so circumstantial? – the testimony of those cognisant of the scandal – of the chief actor in it, whose silent smile spoke stronger than words. That smile of insolent triumph – why had I permitted it to pass without challenge, without rebuke? It was not too late – I should call upon him to speak plainly and point blank – yes or no. If yes, then for a second duel more deadly than the first.

Notwithstanding these resolves to make my rival declare himself, I doubted not the damning truth; I endeavoured to resign myself to its torture.

For a long while was my soul upon the rack – more than an hour. Then, as my blood grew more cool, reflections of a calmer nature entered my mind; and at intervals, I experienced the soothing influence of hope; this especially when I recalled the words of Haj-Ewa, spoken on the preceding night. Surely the maniac had not been mocking me? Surely it was not a dream of her delirious brain? a distorted mirage of memory – the memory of some far-away, long-forgotten scene, by her only remembered? No, no; her tale was not distorted – her thoughts were not delirious – her words were not mockeries!

How sweet it was to think so!

Yes – I began to experience intervals of placid thought: more than placid – pleasant.

Alas! they were evanescent. The memory of those bold meretricious phrases, those smiling innuendoes, dissipated or darkened them, as cumuli darken the sun. “He had succeeded.” She was now his favourite. “Most certainly” – words worse than death. Withal it was a foul testimony on which to build a faith.

I longed for light, that true light – the evidence of the senses – that leaves nought uncertain. I should seek it with rash directness, reckless of the result, till it illumined her whole history, proving the past a disgrace, the future a chaos of utter despair. I longed for light; I longed for the coming of Haj-Ewa.

I knew not what the maniac wanted – something, I supposed, concerning the captive. Since noon, I had little thought of him. The mad queen went everywhere, knew every one; she must know all, understand all – ay, well understand; she, too, had been betrayed.

I repaired to our place of meeting on the preceding night; there I might expect her. I crossed the little ridge among the stems of the palmettoes; it was the direct route to the shadowy side of the tank. I descended the slope, and stood as before under the spreading arms of the live-oak.

Haj-Ewa was before me. A single moonbeam slanting athwart the leaves, shone upon her majestic figure. Under its light the two serpents glittered with a metallic lustre, as though her neck and waist were encircled with precious gems.

“Hinklas! pretty mico! you are come. Gallant mico! where was thine eye and thine arm that thou didst not kill the Iste-hulwa?” (Literally bad man – villain.)

“Ah! the hunter of the deer —He was stricken so with fearWhen he stood before the wolf,The gaunt wicked wolf,When he saw the snarling wolf,He trembled so with fear,That unharmed the fierce wolf ran away.

“Ha, ha, ha! was it not so, brave mico?”

“It was not fear that hindered me, Ewa. Besides, the wolf did not go unscathed.”

“Ho! the wolf has a wounded leg – he will lick himself well again; he will soon be strong as ever. Hulwak! you should have killed him, fair mico, ere he bring the pack upon you.”

“I could not help my ill luck. I am unfortunate every way.”

“Cooree, cooree– no. You shall be happy, young mico; you shall be happy, friend of the red Seminole. Wait till you see – ”

“See what?”

“Patience, chepawnee! To-night under this very tree, you will see what is fair – you will hear what is sweet – and perchance Haj-Ewa will be revenged.”

This last phrase was spoken with an earnest emphasis, and in a tone that shewed a strong feeling of resentment against some one unknown. I could not comprehend the nature of the expected vengeance.

“His son – yes,” continued the maniac, now in soliloquy, “it must be – it must: his eyes, his hair, his form, his gait, his name; his son and hers. Oh, Haj-Ewa will have revenge.”

Was I myself the object of this menace? Such a thought entered my mind.

“Good Ewa! of whom are you speaking?”

Roused by my voice, she looked upon me with a bewildered stare, and then broke out into her habitual chant:

“Why did I trust to a pale-faced lover?Ho, ho, ho!” etc.

Suddenly stopping, she seemed once more to remember herself, and essayed a reply to my question.

“Whom, young mico? Of him the fair one – the wicked one – the Wykomé hulwa (the spirit of evil). See! he comes, he comes! Behold him in the water. Ho, ho! it is he. Up, young mico! up into thy leafy bower; stay till Ewa comes! Hear what you may hear – see what you may see; but, for your life, stir not till I give you the signal. Up, up, up!”

Just as on the preceding night, half lifting me into the live-oak, the maniac glided away amidst the shadows.

I lost no time in getting into my former position, where I sat silent and expecting.

The shadow had grown shorter, but there was still enough to shew me that it was the form of a man. In another moment, it vanished.

Scarcely an instant had elapsed, ere a second was flung upon the water, advancing over the ridge, and as if following the track of the former one, though the two persons did not appear to be in company.

That which followed I could trace in full outline. It was the figure of a woman, one whose upright bearing and free port proved her to be young.

Even the shadow exhibited a certain symmetry of form and gracefulness of motion, incompatible with age. Was it still Haj-Ewa? Had she gone round through the thicket, and was now following the footsteps of the man?

For a moment I fancied so; but I soon perceived that my fancy was astray.

The man advanced under the tree. The same moonbeam, that but a moment before had shone upon Haj-Ewa, now fell upon him, and I saw him with sufficient distinctness; he was the aide-de-camp.

He stopped, took out his watch, held it up to the light, and appeared to be inquiring the hour.

But I heeded him no further. Another face appeared under that silvery ray – false and shining as itself: it was the face that to me seemed the loveliest in the world – the face of Maümee.

Chapter Forty Four

An Eclaircissement

These were the shadows upon the water promised by Haj-Ewa – black shadows upon my heart.

Mad queen of the Micosaucs! what have I done to deserve this torture? Thou too my enemy! Had I been thy deadliest foe, thou couldst scarcely have contrived a keener sting for thy vengeance.

Face to face stood Maümee and her lover – seduced and seducer. I had no doubt as to the identity of either. The moonbeam fell upon both – no longer with soft silvery light, but gleaming rude and red, like the chandeliers of a bagnio. It may have been but a seeming – the reflection of an inflamed imagination that influenced me from within; but my belief in her innocence was gone – hopelessly gone; the very air seemed tainted with her guilt – the world appeared a chaos of debauchery and ruin.

I had no other thought than that I was present at a scene of assignation. How could I think otherwise? No signs of surprise were exhibited by either, as they came together. They met as those who have promised to come – who have often met before.

Evidently each expected the other. Though other emotions declared themselves, there was not the slightest sign of novelty in the encounter.

For me, it was a terrible crisis. The anguish of a whole life compressed into the space of a single moment could not have been more unendurable. The blood seemed to scald my heart as it gushed through. So acute was the pang, I could scarcely restrain myself from crying aloud.

An effort – a stern determined effort – and the throe was over. Firmly bracing my nerves – firmly grasping the branches – I clung to my seat, resolved to know more.

That was a fortunate resolution. Had I at that moment given way to the wild impulse of passion, and sought a reckless revenge, I should in all likelihood have carved out for myself a long lifetime of sorrow. Patience proved my guardian angel, and the end was otherwise.

Not a word – not a motion – not a breath. What will they say? – what do?

My situation was like his of the suspended sword. On second thoughts, the simile is both trite and untrue: the sword had already fallen; it could wound me no more. I was as one paralysed both in body and soul – impervious to further pain.

Not a word – not a motion – not a breath. What will they say? – what do?

The light is full upon Maümee; I can see her from head to foot. How large she has grown – a woman in all her outlines, perfect, entire. And her loveliness has kept pace with her growth. Larger, she is lovelier than ever. Demon of jealousy! art thou not content with what thou hast already done? Have I not suffered enough? Why hast thou presented her in such witching guise? O that she were scarred, hideous, hag-like – as she shall yet become! Even thus to see her, would be some satisfaction – an anodyne to my chafed soul.

But it is not so. Her face is sweetly beautiful – never so beautiful before. Soft and innocent as ever – not a line of guilt can be traced on those placid features – not a gleam of evil in that round, rolling eye! The angels of heaven are beautiful; but they are good. Oh, who could believe in crime concealed under such loveliness as hers?

I expected a more meretricious mien. There was a scintillation of cheer in the disappointment.

Do not suppose that these reflections occupied time. In a few seconds they passed through my mind, for thought is quicker than the magnetic shock. They passed while I was waiting to hear the first words that, to my surprise, were for some moments unspoken. To my surprise; I could not have met her in such fashion. My heart would have been upon my tongue, and lips —

I see it now. The hot burst of passion is past – the springs tide of love has subsided – such an interview is no longer a novelty – perhaps he grows tired of her, foul libertine that he is! See! they meet with some shyness. Coldness has risen between them – a love quarrel – fool is he as villain – fool not to rush into those arms, and at once reconcile it. Would that his opportunities were mine! – not all the world could restrain me from seeking that sweet embrace.

Bitter as were my thoughts, they were less bitter on observing this attitude of the lovers. I fancied it was half-hostile.

Not a word – not a motion – not a breath. What will they say; – what do.

My suspense came to an end. The aide-de-camp at length found his tongue.

“Lovely Maümee, you have kept your promise.”

“But you, sir, have not yours? No – I read it in your looks. You have yet done nothing for us?”

“Be assured, Maümee, I have not had an opportunity. The general has been so busy, I have had no chance to press the matter upon him. But do not be impatient. I shall be certain to persuade him; and your property shall be restored to you in due time. Tell your mother not to feel uneasy: for your sake, beautiful Maümee, I shall spare no exertion. Believe me, I am as anxious as yourself; but you must know the stern disposition of my uncle; and, moreover, that he is on the ’most friendly terms with the Ringgold family. In this will lie the main difficulty, but I fear not that I shall be able to surmount it.”

“O sir, your words are fine, but they have little worth with us now. We have waited long upon your promise to befriend us. We only wished for an investigation; and you might easily have obtained it ere this. We no longer care for our lands, for greater wrongs make us forget the less. I should not have been here to-night, had we not been in sad grief at the misfortune – I should rather say outrage – that has fallen upon my poor brother. You have professed friendship to our family. I come to seek it now, for now may you give proof of it. Obtain my brother’s freedom, and we shall then believe in the fair words you have so often spoken. Do not say it is impossible; it cannot even be difficult for you who hold so much authority among the white chiefs. My brother may have been rude; but he has committed no crime that should entail severe punishment. A word to the great war-chief, and he would be set free. Go, then, and speak that word.”

“Lovely Maümee! you do not know the nature of the errand upon which you send me. Your brother is a prisoner by orders of the agent, and by the act of the commander-in-chief. It is not with us as among your people. I am only a subordinate in rank, and were I to offer the counsel you propose, I should be rebuked – perhaps punished.”

“Oh, you fear rebuke for doing an act of justice? – to say naught of your much offered friendship? Good, sir! I have no more to say, except this – we believe you no longer. You need come to our humble dwelling no more.”

She was turning away with a scornful smile. How beautiful seemed that scorn!

“Stay, Maümee! – fair Maümee, do not part from me thus – doubt not that I will do all in my power – ”

“Do what I have asked you. Set my brother free – let him return to his home.”

“And if I should – ”

“Well, sir.”

“Know, Maümee, that for me to do so would be to risk everything. I might be degraded from my rank – reduced to the condition of a common soldier – disgraced in the eyes of my country – ay, punished, perhaps, by imprisonment worse than that which your brother is likely to endure. All this would I risk by the act.”