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

“Then speak it, Virginia. Tell me, is Powell – is Osceola – your lover?”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“Nay, Virginia, this is no laughing matter.”

“By my faith, I think it is – a very capital joke – ha, ha, ha!”

“I want no trifling, Virginia; an answer.”

“You shall get no answer to such an absurd question.”

“It is not absurd. I have good reasons for putting it.”

“Reasons – state them, pray!”

“You cannot deny that something has passed between you? You cannot deny that you have given him a meeting, and in the forest too? Beware how you make answer, for I have the proofs. We encountered the chief on his return. We saw him at a distance. He shunned us – no wonder. We followed his trail – we saw the tracks of the pony – oh! you met: it was all clear enough.”

“Ha, ha, ha! What a pair of keen trackers – you and your friend – astute fellows! You will be invaluable on the warpath. You will be promoted to be chief spies to the army. Ha, ha, ha! And so, this is the grand secret, is it? this accounts for the demure looks, and the odd-fashioned airs that have been puzzling me. My honour, eh? that was the care that was cankering you. By Diana! I have reason to be thankful for being blessed with such a chivalric brace of guardians.

“In England, the garden of beauty is keptBy the dragon of prudery, placed within call;But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept,That the garden was carelessly watched after all.

“And so if, I have not the dragon prudery to guard me, I am to find a brace of dragons in my brother and his friend. Ha, ha, ha!”

“Virginia, you madden me – this is no answer. Did you meet Osceola?”

“I’ll answer that directly: after such sharp espionage, denial would not avail me. I did meet him.”

“And for what purpose? Did you meet as lovers?”

“That question is impertinent; I won’t answer it.”

“Virginia! I implore you – ”

“And cannot two people encounter each other in the woods, without being charged with love-making? Might we not have come together by chance? or might I not have had other business with the Seminole chief? You do not know all my secrets, nor do I intend you shall either.”

“Oh, it was no chance encounter – it was an appointment – a love-meeting: you could have had no other affair with him.”

“It is natural for you to think so – very natural, since I hear you practise such duettos yourself. How long, may I ask, since you held your last tête-à-tête with your own fair charmer – the lovely Maümee? Eh! brother?”

I started as if stung. How could my sister have gained intelligence of this? Was she only guessing? and had chanced upon the truth?

For some moments I could not make reply, nor did I make any to her last interrogatory. I paid no heed to it, but, becoming excited, pressed my former inquiries with vehemence.

“Sister! I must have an explanation; I insist upon it – I demand it!”

“Demand! Ho! that is your tone, is it? That will scarcely serve you. A moment ago, when you put yourself in the imploring attitude, I had well-nigh taken pity on you, and told you all. But, demand, indeed! I answer no demands; and to show you that I do not, I shall now go and shut myself in my room. So, my good fellow, you shall see no more of me for this day, nor to-morrow either, unless you come to your senses. Good-by, Geordy – and au revoir, only on condition you behave yourself like a gentleman.

“A Yankee ship and a Yankee crew, Tally high ho, you know! Won’t strike to the foe, etc, etc.”

And with this catch pealing from her lips, she passed across the parterre, entered the verandah, and disappeared within the doorway.

Disappointed, mortified, sad, I stood riveted to the spot, scarcely knowing in what direction to turn myself.

Chapter Fifty Five

The Volunteers

My sister kept her word. I saw no more of her for that day, nor until noon of the next. Then she came forth from her chamber in full riding costume, ordered White Fox to be saddled, and mounting, rode off alone.

I felt that I had no power over this capricious spirit. It was idle to attempt controlling it. She was beyond the dictation of fraternal authority – her own mistress – and evidently determined upon having her will and her way.

After the conversation of yesterday, I felt no inclination to interfere again. She was acquainted with my secret; and knowing this, any counsel from me would come with an ill grace, and be as ill received. I resolved, therefore, to withhold it, till some crisis should arrive that would render it more impressive.

For several days this coolness continued between us – at which my mother often wondered, but of which she received no explanation. Indeed, I fancied that even her affection towards me was not so tender as it used to be. Perhaps I was wronging her. She was a little angry with me about the duel with Ringgold, the first intelligence of which had gravely affected her. On my return I had received her reproaches, for it was believed that I alone was to blame in bringing the affair about. “Why had I acted so rudely towards Arens Ringgold? And all about nothing? A trumpery Indian belle? What mattered it to me what may have been said about the girl? Likely what was said was nothing more than the truth. I should have behaved with more prudence.”

I perceived that my mother had been informed upon most of the material points connected with the affair. Of one, however, she was ignorant: she knew not who the “trumpery Indian belle” was – she had not heard the name of Maümee. Knowing her to be ignorant of this, I listened with more calmness to the aspersive remarks.

For all that, I was somewhat excited by her reproaches, and several times upon the point of declaring to her the true cause why I had called Ringgold to an account. For certain reasons I forbore. My mother would not have believed me.

As for Ringgold himself, I ascertained that a great change in his fortunes had lately taken place. His father was dead – had died in a fit of passion, whilst in the act of chastising one of his slaves. A blood-vessel had burst, and he had fallen, as if by a judgment of God.

Arens, the only son, was now master of his vast, ill-gotten wealth – a plantation with some three hundred slaves upon it; and it was said that this had only made him more avaricious than ever.

His aim was – as it had been that of the older Ringgold – to become owner of everybody and everything around him – a grand money-despot. The son was a fit successor to the father.

He had played the invalid for a while – carrying his arm in a sling – and, as people said, not a little vain of having been engaged in a duel. Those who understood how that affair had terminated, thought he had little reason to be proud of it.

It seemed the hostility between him and myself had brought about no change in his relations with our family. I learned that he had been a constant visitor at the house; and the world still believed him the accepted suitor of Virginia. Moreover, since his late accession to wealth and power, he had grown more than ever a favourite with my ambitious mother. I learned all this with regret.

The old home appeared to have undergone a change. There was not the same warmth of affection as of yore. I missed my kind, noble father. My mother at times appeared cold and distant, as if she believed me undutiful. My uncle was her brother, and like her in everything; even my fond sister seemed for the moment estranged.

I began to feel as a stranger in my own house, and, feeling so, stayed but little at home. Most of the day was I abroad, with Gallagher as my companion. Of course, my friend remained our guest during our stay on the Suwanee.

Our time was occupied partly with the duties upon which we had been commanded, and partly in following the amusement of the chase. Of deer-hunting and fox running we had an abundance; but I did not enjoy it as formerly; neither did my companion – ardent sportsman though he was – seem to take the delight in it which he had anticipated.

Our military duties were by no means of an arduous nature, and were usually over before noon. Our orders had been, not so much to recruit volunteers as to superintend the organisation of those already raised; and “muster them into service.” A corps had already advanced some length towards formation, having elected its own officers and enrolled most of its rank and file. Our part was to inspect, instruct, and govern them.

The little church, near the centre of the settlement, was the head-quarters of the corps; and there the drill was daily carried on.

The men were mostly of the poorer class of white settlers – small renting planters – and squatters who dwelt along the swamp-edges, and who managed to eke out a precarious subsistence partly by the use of their axes, and partly from the product of their rifles. The old hunter Hickman was among the number; and what did not much surprise me, I found the worthies Spence and Williams enrolled in the corps. Upon these scamps I was determined to keep a watchful eye, and hold them at a wary distance.

Many of the privates were men of a higher class – for the common danger had called all kinds into the field.

The officers were usually planters of wealth and influence; though there were some who, from the democratic influence of elections, were but ill qualified to wear epaulettes.

Many of these gentlemen bore far higher official titles than either Gallagher or myself. Colonels and majors appeared to be almost as numerous as privates. But for all this, they did not demur to our exercising authority over them. In actual war-time, it is not uncommon for a lieutenant of the “line,” or the lowest subaltern of the regular army, to be placed in command of a full colonel of militia or volunteers!

Here and there was an odd character, who, perhaps, in earlier life had “broken down” at West Point, or had gone through a month of campaigning service in the Greek wars, under “Old Hickory.” These, fancying themselves au fait in the military art, were not so pleasant to deal with; and at times it required all Gallagher’s determined firmness to convince them that he was commander-in-chief upon the Suwanee.

My friend’s reputation as a “fire eater,” which had preceded him, had as much weight in confirming his authority as the commission which he brought with him from “head-quarters.”

Upon the whole, we got along smoothly enough with these gentlemen – most of whom seemed desirous of learning their duty, and submitted to our instructions with cheerfulness.

There was no lack of champagne, brandy, and cigars. The neighbouring planters were hospitable; and had my friend or myself been inclined towards dissipation, we could not have been established in better quarters for indulging the propensity.

To this, however, neither of us gave way; and our moderation no doubt caused us to be held in higher esteem, even among the hard drinkers by whom we were surrounded.

Our new life was by no means disagreeable; and but for the unpleasantness that had arisen at home, I could have felt for the time contented and happy.

At home – at home – there was the canker: it appeared no longer a home.

Chapter Fifty Six

Mysterious Changes

Not many days had elapsed before I observed a sudden change in the conduct of Gallagher; not towards myself or my mother, but in his manner towards Virginia.

It was the day after I had held the conversation with her, that I first noticed this. I noticed at the same time that her manner towards him was equally altered.

The somewhat frosty politeness that had hitherto been observed between them, appeared to have suddenly thawed, and their old genial friendship to become reestablished on its former footing.

They now played, and sang, and laughed together, and read, and chattered nonsense, as they had been used to do in times past.

“Ah!” thought I, “it is easy for him to forget; he is but a friend, and, of course, cannot have the feelings of a brother. Little matters it to him what may be her secret relations, or with whom. What need he care about her improprieties? She is good company, and her winning way has beguiled him from dwelling upon that suspicion, which he must have entertained as well as myself. He has either forgotten, forgiven, or else found some explanation of her conduct that seems to satisfy him. At all events, I appear to have lost his sympathy, while she has regained his confidence and friendship.”

I was at first astonished at this new phase in the relations of our family circle – afterwards puzzled by it.

I was too proud and piqued to ask Gallagher for an explanation; and, as he did not volunteer to give one, I was compelled to abide in ignorance.

I perceived that my mother also regarded this altered behaviour with surprise, and also with a feeling of a somewhat different kind – suspicion.

I could guess the reason of this. She fancied that they were growing too fond of each other – that, notwithstanding he had no fortune but his pay-roll, Virginia might fancy the dashing soldier for a husband.

Of course my mother, having already formed designs as to the disposal of her daughter, could not calmly contemplate such a destiny as this. It was natural enough, then, she should look with a jealous eye upon the gay confidence that had been established between them.

I should have been glad if I could have shared my mother’s suspicions; happy if my sister had but fixed her affections there. My friend would have been welcome to call me brother. Fortuneless though he might be, I should have made no opposition to that alliance.

But it never entered my thoughts that there was aught between the two but the old rollicking friendship; and love acts not in that style. So far as Captain Gallagher was concerned, I could have given my mother assurance that would have quieted her fears.

And yet to a stranger they might have appeared as lovers – almost to any one except myself. They were together half the day and half the night: they rode together into the woods, and were sometimes absent for hours at a time. I perceived that my comrade began to care little for my company, and daily less. Stranger still, the chase no longer delighted him! As for duty, this he sadly neglected, and had not the “lieutenant” been on the ground, I fear the “corps” would have stood little chance of instruction.

As days passed on, I fancied that Gallagher began to relapse into a more sober method. He certainly seemed more thoughtful. This was when my sister was out of sight. It was not the air he had worn after our arrival – but very different.

It certainly resembled the bearing of a man in love. He would start on hearing my sister’s voice from without – his ear was quick to catch every word from her, and his eyes expressed delight whenever she came into the room. Once or twice, I saw him gazing at her with an expression upon his countenance that betokened more than friendship.

My old suspicions began to return to me. After all, he might be in love with Virginia?

Certainly, she was fair enough to impress the heart even of this adamantine soldier. Gallagher was no lady’s man – had never been known to seek conquests over the sex – in fact, felt some awkwardness in their company. My sister seemed the only one before whom he could converse with fluency or freedom.

Notwithstanding, and after all, he might be in love!

I should have been pleased to know it, could I only have insured him a reciprocity of his passion; but alas! that was not in my power.

I wondered whether she ever thought of him as a lover; but no – she could not – not if she was thinking of —

And yet her behaviour towards him was at times of such a character, that a stranger to her eccentricities would have fancied she loved him. Even I was mystified by her actions. She either had some feeling for him, beyond that of mere friendship, or made show of it. If he loved her, and she knew it, then her conduct was cruel in the extreme.

I indulged in such speculations, though, only when I could not restrain myself from dwelling upon them. They were unpleasant; at times, even painful.

I lived in a maze of doubt, puzzled and perplexed at what was passing around me; but at this time there turned up a new chapter in our family history, that, in point of mystery, eclipsed all others. A piece of information reached me, that, if true, must sweep all these new-sprung theories out my mind.

I learned that my sister was in love with Arens Ringgold– in other words, that she was “listening to his addresses!”

Chapter Fifty Seven

My Informant

This I had upon the authority of my faithful servant, Black Jake. Upon almost any other testimony, I should have been incredulous; but his was unimpeachable. Negro as he was, his perceptions were keen enough; while his earnestness proved that he believed what he said. He had reasons, and he gave them.

I received the strange intelligence in this wise:

I was seated by the bathing-pond, alone, busied with a book, when I heard Jake’s familiar voice pronouncing my name: “Massr George.”

“Well, Jake?” I responded, without withdrawing my eyes from the page.

“Ise wanted all da mornin to git you ’lone by yarself; Ise want to hab a leetle bit ob a convasayshun, Massr George.”

The solemn tone, so unusual in the voice of Jake, awoke my attention. Mechanically closing the book, I looked up in his face: it was solemn as his speech.

“A conversation with me, Jake?”

“Ye, massr – dat am if you isn’t ingage?”

“Oh, by no means, Jake. Go on: let me hear what you have to say.”

“Poor fellow!” thought I – “he has his sorrows too. Some complaint about Viola. The wicked coquette is torturing him with jealousy; but what can I do? I cannot make her love him – no. ‘One man may lead a horse to the water, but forty can’t make him drink.’ No; the little jade will act as she pleases in spite of any remonstrance on my part. Well, Jake?”

“Wa, Massr George, I doant meself like to intafere in tha ’fairs ob da family – daat I doant; but ye see, massr, things am a gwine all wrong – all wrong, by golly!”

“In what respect?”

“Ah, massr, dat young lady – dat young lady.”

Polite of Jake to call Viola a young lady.

“You think she is deceiving you?”

“More dan me, Massr George – more dan me.”

“What a wicked girl! But perhaps, Jake, you only fancy these things? Have you had any proofs of her being unfaithful? Is there any one in particular who is now paying her attentions?”

“Yes, massr; berry partickler – nebber so partickler before – nebber.”

“A white man?”

“Gorramighty, Massr George!” exclaimed Jake in a tone of surprise; “you do talk kewrious: ob coorse it am a white man. No odder dan a white man dar shew ’tention to tha young lady.”

I could not help smiling. Considering Jake’s own complexion, he appeared to hold very exalted views of the unapproachableness of his charmer by those of her own race. I had once heard him boast that he was the “only man ob colour dat could shine thar.” It was a white man, then, who was making his misery.

“Who is he, Jake?” I inquired.

“Ah, massr, he am dat ar villain debbil, Arens Ringgol!”

“What! Arens Ringgold? – he making love to Viola!”

“Viola! Gorramighty, Massr George!” exclaimed the black, staring till his eyes shewed only the whites – “Viola! Gorramighty, I nebber say Viola! – nebber!”

“Of whom, then, are you speaking?”

“O massr, did I not say da young lady? dat am tha young Missa – Missa Vaginny.”

“Oh! my sister you mean. Poh, poh! Jake. That is an old story. Arens Ringgold has been paying his addresses to my sister for many years; but with no chance of success. You needn’t trouble yourself about that, my faithful friend; there is no danger of their getting married. She doesn’t like him, Jake – I wonder who does or could – and even if she did, I would not permit it. But there’s no fear, so you may make your mind easy on that score.”

My harangue seemed not to satisfy the black. He stood scratching his head, as if he had something more to communicate. I waited for him to speak.

“’Scoose me, Massr George, for da freedom, but dar you make mighty big mistake. It am true dar war a time when Missa Vaginny she no care for dat ar snake in da grass. But de times am change: him father – da ole thief – he am gone to tha udda world? tha young un he now rich – he big planter – tha biggest on da ribber: ole missa she ’courage him come see Missa Vaginny – ’cause he rich, he good spec.”

“I know all that, Jake: my mother always wished it; but that signifies nothing – my sister is a little self-willed, and will be certain to have her own way. There is no fear of her giving her consent to marry, Arens Ringgold.”

“’Scoose me, Massr George, scoose me ’gain – I tell you, massr, you make mistake: she a’most consent now.”

“Why, what has put this notion into your head, my good fellow?”

“Viola, massr. Dat ere quadroon tell me all.”

“So, you are friends with Viola again?”

“Ye, Massr George, we good friend as ebber. ’Twar only my s’picion – I wor wrong. She good gal – she true as de rifle. No more s’picion o’ her, on de part ob Jake – no.”

“I am glad of that. But pray, what has she told you about Arens Ringgold and my sister?”

“She tell me all: she see somethin’ ebbery day.”

“Every day! Why, it is many days since Arens Ringgold has visited here?”

“No, massr; dar you am mistake ’gain: Mass Arens he come to da house ebbery day – a’most ebbery day.”

“Nonsense; I never saw him here. I never heard of his having been, since my return from the fort.”

“But him hab been, for all dat, massr; I see him meseff. He come when you gone out. He be here when we goes a huntin’. I see um come yest’day, when you any Mass Garger wor away to tha volunteers – dat he war sat’n.”

“You astonish me.”

“Dat’s not all, massr. Viola she say dat Missa Vaginny she ’have different from what she used to: he talk love; she not angry no more; she listen to him talk. Oh, Massr George, Viola think she give her consent to marry him: dat would be dreadful thing – berry, berry dreadful.”

“Jake,” said I, “listen to me. You will stay by the house when I am absent. You will take note of every one who comes and goes; and whenever Arens Ringgold makes his appearance on a visit to the family, you will come for me as fast as horse can carry you.”

“Gollys! dat I will, Massr George: you nebber fear, I come fass enuff – like a streak ob de greased lightnin’.”

And with this promise the black left me.

With all my disposition to be incredulous, I could not disregard the information thus imparted to me. Beyond doubt, there was truth in it. The black was too faithful to think of deceiving me, and too astute to be himself deceived. Viola had rare opportunities for observing all that passed within our family circle; and what motive could she have for inventing a tale like this?

Besides Jake had himself seen Ringgold on visits – of which I had never been informed. This confirmed the other – confirmed all.

What was I to make of it? Three who appear as lovers – the chief, Gallagher, Arens Ringgold! Has she grown wicked, abandoned, and is coquetting with all the world?

Can she have a thought of Ringgold? No – it is not possible. I could understand her having an affection for the soldier – a romantic passion for the brave and certainly handsome chief; but for Arens Ringgold – a squeaking conceited snob, with nought but riches to recommend him – this appeared utterly improbable.

Of course, the influence was my mother’s; but never before had I entertained a thought that Virginia would yield. If Viola spoke the truth, she had yielded, or was yielding.

“Ah, mother, mother! little knowest thou the fiend you would introduce to your home, and cherish as your child.”

Chapter Fifty Eight

Old Hickman

The morning after, I went as usual to the recruiting quarters. Gallagher was along with me, as upon this day the volunteers were to be “mustered into service,”16 and our presence was necessary at the administering of the oath.

A goodly company was collected, forming a troop more respectable in numbers than appearance. They were “mounted volunteers;” but as each individual had been his own quartermaster, no two were either armed or mounted alike. Nearly all carried rifles, though there were a few who shouldered the old family musket – a relic of revolutionary times – and were simply armed with single or double barrelled shot-guns. These, however, loaded with heavy buck-shot, would be no contemptible weapons in a skirmish with Indians. There were pistols of many sorts – from the huge brass-butted holsters to small pocket-pistols – single and double barrelled – but no revolvers, for as yet the celebrated “Colt”17 had not made its appearance in frontier warfare. Every volunteer carried his knife – some, dagger-shaped with ornamented hafts; while the greater number were long, keen blades, similar to those in use among butchers. In the belts of many were stuck small hatchets, an imitation of the Indian tomahawk. These were to serve the double purpose of cutting a way through the brushwood, or breaking in the skull of a savage, as opportunity might offer.