Wolfert's roost and other papers, now first collected |
 |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
|
|
|
|
|
THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA.
AN AUTHENTIC SKETCH. |
|
|
 | Wolfert's roost |  |
THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA.
AN AUTHENTIC SKETCH.
In the autumn of 1823, Governor Duval, and other commissioners
on the part of the United States, concluded a treaty with
the chiefs and warriors of the Florida Indians, by which the latter,
for certain considerations, ceded all claims to the whole territory,
excepting a district in the eastern part, to which they
were to remove, and within which they were to reside for twenty
years. Several of the chiefs signed the treaty with great reluctance;
but none opposed it more strongly than Neamathla, principal
chief of the Mickasookies, a fierce and warlike people,
many of them Creeks by origin, who lived about the Mickasookie
lake. Neamathla had always been active in those depredations
on the frontiers of Georgia, which had brought vengeance and
ruin on the Seminoles. He was a remarkable man; upward of
sixty years of age, about six feet high, with a fine eye, and a
strongly-marked countenance, over which he possessed great
command. His hatred of the white men appeared to be mixed
with contempt: on the common people he looked down with infinite
scorn. He seemed unwilling to acknowledge any superiority
of rank or dignity in Governor Duval, claiming to associate with
him on terms of equality, as two great chieftains. Though he
had been prevailed upon to sign the treaty, his heart revolted at
it. In one of his frank conversations with Governor Duval, he
observed: “This country belongs to the red man; and if I had
the number of warriors at my command that this nation once
the whole. I can say this to you, for you can understand
me: you are a man; but I would not say it to your people.
They'd cry out I was a savage, and would take my life.
They cannot appreciate the feelings of a man that loves his
country.”
As Florida had but recently been erected into a territory,
every thing as yet was in rude and simple style. The Governor,
to make himself acquainted with the Indians, and to be near at
hand to keep an eye upon them, fixed his residence at Tallahassee,
near the Fowel towns, inhabited by the Mickasookies. His government
palace for a time was a mere log-house, and he lived on
hunters' fare. The village of Neamathla was but about three
miles off, and thither the governor occasionally rode, to visit the
old chieftain. In one of these visits, he found Neamathla seated
in his wigwam, in the centre of the village, surrounded by his
warriors. The governor had brought him some liquor as a present,
but it mounted quickly into his brain, and rendered him
quite boastful and belligerent. The theme ever uppermost in
his mind, was the treaty with the whites. “It was true,” he
said, “the red men had made such a treaty, but the white men
had not acted up to it. The red men had received none of the
money and the cattle that had been promised them; the treaty,
therefore, was at an end, and they did not mean to be bound by
it.”
Governor Duval calmly represented to him that the time appointed
in the treaty for the payment and delivery of the money
and the cattle had not yet arrived. This the old chieftain knew
full well, but he chose, for the moment, to pretend ignorance.
louder, until it resounded all over the village. He held in his
hand a long knife, with which he had been rasping tobacco; this
he kept flourishing backward and forward, as he talked, by way
of giving effect to his words, brandishing it at times within an
inch of the governor's throat. He concluded his tirade by repeating,
that the country belonged to the red men, and that sooner
than give it up, his bones and the bones of his people should
bleach upon its soil.
Duval knew that the object of all this bluster was to see
whether he could be intimidated. He kept his eye, therefore,
fixed steadily on the chief, and the moment he concluded with
his menace, seized him by the bosom of his hunting-shirt, and
clinching his other fist:
“I've heard what you have said,” replied he. “You have
made a treaty, yet you say your bones shall bleach before you
comply with it. As sure as there is a sun in heaven, your bones
shall bleach, if you do not fulfil every article of that treaty!
I'll let you know that I am first here, and will see that you do
your duty!”
Upon this the old chieftain threw himself back, burst into a
fit of laughing, and declared that all he had said was in joke.
The governor suspected, however, that there was a grave meaning
at the bottom of this jocularity.
For two months, every thing went on smoothly: the Indians
repaired daily to the log-cabin palace of the governor, at Tallahassee,
and appeared perfectly contented. All at once they
ceased their visits, and for three or four days not one was to be
seen. Governor Duval began to apprehend that some mischief
Yellow-Hair, a resolute, intelligent fellow, who had always
evinced an attachment for the governor, entered his cabin about
twelve o'clock at night, and informed him, that between four and
five hundred warriors, painted and decorated, were assembled to
hold a secret war-talk at Neamathla's town. He had slipped off
to give intelligence, at the risk of his life, and hastened back
lest his absence should be discovered.
Governor Duval passed an anxious night after this intelligence.
He knew the talent and the daring character of Neamathla;
he recollected the threats he had thrown out; he reflected
that about eighty white families were scattered widely apart,
over a great extent of country, and might be swept away at once,
should the Indians, as he feared, determine to clear the country.
That he did not exaggerate the dangers of the case, has been
proved by the horrid scenes of Indian warfare which have since
desolated that devoted region. After a night of sleepless cogitation
Duval determined on a measure suited to his prompt and
resolute character. Knowing the admiration of the savages for
personal courage, he determined, by a sudden surprise, to endeavor
to overawe and check them. It was hazarding much;
but where so many lives were in jeopardy, he felt bound to incur
the hazard.
Accordingly, on the next morning, he set off on horseback,
attended merely by a white man, who had been reared among
the Seminoles, and understood their language and manners, and
who acted as interpreter. They struck into an Indian “trail,”
leading to Neamathla's vilage. After proceeding about half a
mile, Governor Duval informed the interpreter of the object of
The Indians among whom they were going were
among the most desperate and discontented of the nation. Many
of them were veteran warriors, impoverished and exasperated by
defeat, and ready to set their lives at any hazard. He said that
if they were holding a war council, it must be with desperate
intent, and it would be certain death to intrude among them.
Duval made light of his apprehensions: he said he was perfectly
well acquainted with the Indian character, and should
certainly proceed. So saying, he rode on. When within half a
mile of the village, the interpreter addressed him again, in such
a tremulous tone, that Duval turned and looked him in the face.
He was deadly pale, and once more urged the governor to return,
as they would certainly be massacred if they proceeded.
Duval repeated his determination to go on, but advised the
other to return, lest his pale face should betray fear to the Indians,
and they might take advantage of it. The interpreter
replied that he would rather die a thousand deaths, than have it
said he had deserted his leader when in peril.
Duval then told him he must translate faithfully all he should
say to the Indians, without softening a word. The interpreter
promised faithfully to do so, adding that he well knew, when
they were once in the town, nothing but boldness could save
them.
They now rode into the village and advanced to the council-house.
This was rather a group of four houses, forming a square,
in the centre of which was a great council-fire. The houses were
open in front, toward the fire, and closed in the rear. At each
corner of the square, there was an interval between the houses,
for ingress and egress. In these houses sat the old men and the
presided at the council, elevated on a higher seat than the rest.
Governor Duval entered by one of the corner intervals, and
rode boldly into the centre of the square. The young men made
way for him; an old man who was speaking, paused in the midst
of his harangue. In an instant thirty or forty rifles were cocked
and levelled. Never had Duval heard so loud a click of triggers;
it seemed to strike to his heart. He gave one glance at the Indians,
and turned off with an air of contempt. He did not dare,
he says, to look again, lest it might affect his nerves, and on the
firmness of his nerves every thing depended.
The chief threw up his arm. The rifles were lowered. Duval
breathed more freely; he felt disposed to leap from his horse, but
restrained himself, and dismounted leisurely. He then walked
deliberately up to Neamathla, and demanded, in an authoritative
tone, what were his motives for holding that conncil. The
moment he made this demand, the orator sat down. The chief
made no reply, but hung his head in apparent confusion. After
a moment's pause, Duval proceeded:
“I am well aware of the meaning of this war-council; and
deem it my duty to warn you against prosecuting the schemes
you have been devising. If a single hair of a white man in this
country falls to the ground, I will hang you and your chiefs on
the trees around your council-house! You cannot pretend to
withstand the power of the white men. You are in the palm of
the hand of your Great Father at Washington, who can crush
you like an egg-shell! You may kill me; I am but one man;
but recollect, white men are numerous as the leaves on the trees.
Remember the fate of your warriors whose bones are whitening
in battle-fields. Remember your wives and children who perished
war with the white men, and there will not be a Seminole left to
tell the story of his race.”
Seeing the effect of his words, he concluded by appointing a
day for the Indians to meet him at St. Marks, and give an account
of their conduct. He then rode off, without giving them
time to recover from their surprise. That night he rode forty
miles to Apalachicola River, to the tribe of the same name, who
were in feud with the Seminoles. They promptly put two hundred
and fifty warriors at his disposal, whom he ordered to be at
St. Marks at the appointed day. He sent out runners, also, and
mustered one hundred of the militia to repair to the same place,
together with a number of regulars from the army. All his arrangements
were successful.
Having taken these measures, he returned to Tallahassee, to
the neighborhood of the conspirators, to show them that he was
not afraid. Here he ascertained, through Yellow-Hair, that
nine towns were disaffected, and had been concerned in the conspiracy.
He was careful to inform himself, from the same
source, of the names of the warriors in each of those towns who
were most popular, though poor, and destitute of rank and
command.
When the appointed day was at hand for the meeting at St.
Marks, Governor Duval set off with Neamathla, who was at the
head of eight or nine hundred warriors, but who feared to venture
into the fort without him. As they entered the fort, and saw
troops and militia drawn up there, and a force of Apalachicola
soldiers stationed on the opposite bank of the river, they thought
they were betrayed, and were about to fly; but Duval assured
go home unmolested.
A grand talk was now held, in which the late conspiracy
was discussed. As he had foreseen, Neamathla and the other
old chiefs threw all the blame upon the young men. “Well,”
replied Duval, “with us white men, when we find a man incompetent
to govern those under him, we put him down, and appoint
another in his place. Now, as you all acknowledge you cannot
manage your young men, we must put chiefs over them who can.”
So saying, he deposed Neamathla first; appointing another
in his place; and so on with all the rest; taking care to substitute
the warriors who had been pointed out to him as poor
and popular; putting medals round their necks, and investing
them with great ceremony. The Indians were surprised and
delighted at finding the appointments fall upon the very men
they would themselves have chosen, and hailed them with acclamations.
The warriors thus unexpectedly elevated to command,
and clothed with dignity, were secured to the interests of
the governor, and sure to keep an eye on the disaffected. As to
the great chief Neamathla, he left the country in disgust, and
returned to the Creek Nation, who elected him a chief of one of
their towns. Thus by the resolute spirit and prompt sagacity
of one man, a dangerous conspiracy was completely defeated.
Governor Duval was afterwards enabled to remove the whole
nation, through his own personal influence, without the aid of
the General Government.
Note.—The foregoing ancedotes concerning the Seminoles,
were gathered in conversation with Governor Duval (the original
of Ralph Ringwood).
| Wolfert's roost | |