The Seminole War
James D. Elderkin, Fourth U.S. Infantry

1841

We remained at this camp but a day and then started on our second campaign. We went up to Cinable river by taking a steamboat at a point then called Point "Arresser." Getting on or off from a boat was a serious business, as there were no docks and the banks were muddy. The men were taken off in small boats, but horses and mules were thrown overboard and they swam to shore. The place selected for a camp was in a pine woods so dense with underbrush that we were compelled to dig trees up by the roots, which were five inches in diameter, before we could pitch our tents; and the rattlesnakes were so thick that we were compelled to keep on the watch continually to prevent being bitten.

We stocked the steamboat with wood, carrying it on our shoulders. After establishing a depot there, we again took up our line of march in pursuit of the Indians. This time we had a much larger force than before. We had about five hundred men, commanded by Col. Garland, one of the finest and bravest men I ever met. I had a good chance to get acquainted with him, as I was detailed, with nine others, as his body guard. Capt. Carr commanded one company of the First Dragoons; Maj. Plimton with a company of mounted infantry, and Company D of the Fourth United States Infantry.

We got on the trail and followed it up for three days and located the Indians in a Hummock where the underbrush was very thick, and it was very hard to push our way through it.

The command approached in two columns. The colonel, like the brave man that he was, led the way with his body guard in single file. When we got right onto the Indians I said: "Here they are, colonel," and I pulled my horse in front of the colonel. I had forgotten to mention that the body guard had been given horses when we started out. As I road in front of the colonel a very large Indian arose out of the bushes. I took deliberate aim and fired. The Indian jumped three feet in the air and fell dead. We advanced very rapidly and drove them into the heavy-timbered land, where we captured a part of the tribe, and in a few days got the rest of them; and I never saw a finer specimen of human physical perfection than were these people. Not at all like the stunted Indians who came from the western plains.

That night Col. Garland ordered me to Fort King with dispatches. That is about one hundred and ten miles from Tampa Bay. Warm springs are on the road about half the way from Tampa Bay to Fort King.

I left camp at twelve o'clock at night and got to Fort King some time in the forenoon next day. This was a big trip for my poor horse, for I weighted over a hundred and sixty pounds, and I carried my gun and equipments and one day's rations and forage for my horse. I had two rivers to ford, as the Indians had burned the bridges over the big and little Withlacoocha rivers. I also had several hummocks to cross. These are the dry lands which I spoke of before. Every rod of the way swarmed with rattlesnakes, moccasins and other deadly reptiles; besides part of the tribe was between me and Fort King. My horse was a spirited fellow and one used to the road, for he had born many an express rider over these very roads--some to the end of their journey and some were shot from his back, and their bones lay bleaching on the way and left monuments to American daring. I had little hopes of reaching Fort King. Every time we reached one of those dry hummocks my horse would prick up his ears and take the bit between his teeth, and no mortal man could hold him, but he dashed through like the brave, intelligent fellow that he was.

As soon as I learned his way I placed my leg over my gun to keep it from being brushed away and fastened my cap on my head and leaned over my horse's neck and let him go. Of course I could not see much of the road in the night, but much of the way was lit up by that brilliant Florida sunlight, and then the awful majestic grandness of that wild, fierce and many times beautiful forest was aweinspiring, and must be seen under such circumstances as I saw it to make one fully understand it, for no pen, let it be wielded by the best talent that ever scratched a line, could describe its impressive grandeur. Now, passing through the swamps of low underbrush with a bare pathway, which only my trusty horse could tread, for I knew it not then, breaking over a space of dry land where a road had been cut through, where the towering Magnolia, with its highly scented and beautiful blossoms, perfumed the air for miles around, then the stately palm nodded its proud head to the morning breezes, while the live oaks yielded a comfortable shade from the noonday glare of the sun and an equally fine hiding place for a lurking foe.

The earth swarmed with poisonous insects and reptiles and the tops of the trees were fairly alive with the most beautiful songsters I ever saw or heard. I must take a little rest and a bite to eat and feed my horse, so I seek a lonely spot on a lake shore; and after we have taken a short rest, some food and drink we are on our way again. But after daylight, with the rather unpromising sights of dead men's bones every little while to mark the way, it is no wonder my hopes of a safe trip sank very low. But, of course, I got through safe.

Gen. Worth kept me at the fort two days before he started me on my return trip, and, as before, I started in the night and arrived back in camp safe the next day.

By this time our forces had captured the balance of the Indians. I had not been in camp but a few minutes when a squad of dragoons came to inquire if I had arrived safe, and if I had not, they intended to come out and meet me, as I had a very dangerous point to pass. It was about half way between Tampa Bay and Fort King, and at a point where Maj. Dade and one hundred and ten men were massacred on the 28th day of December, 1835. Maj. Dade had been ordered from Tampa to Fort King with supplies and ordinance, but a friendly chief went to Maj. Dade and told him of his danger and begged of him not to go, and told him just where his forces would be attacked; but Maj. Dade replied, saying: "There is no danger; I can drive every Indian out of Florida with a cowhide." The chief felt so bad that he shed tears, but it was no use. The major and his men left the next morning, taking one piece of artillery with them. They were three days before they reached the place where the massacre took place. They had arrived within one mile of the black cypress swamp when the twenty-five men on the advance guard were fired on, and Maj. Dade was the first to fall, and the whole advance guard were killed by the first fire. A fierce fight then ensued, but the Indians soon withdrew and the soldiers tried to build breastworks, but had not much done when the Indians came back with overwhelming numbers and renewed the fight.

There was no escape, every man but one being killed, and he was badly wounded, but managed to crawl to a lake and hide among the pond lilies. After the massacre the Indians terribly mutilated the bodies, and it was two weeks before they were buried. Then what could be found of the corpses were buried in one grave, and the cannon which the Indians had dismantled was placed at the head of the grave.

We now had the Indians of this section prisoners, except, perhaps, a few stragglers. We loaded them in wagons and took them to Tampa Bay. They were taken out to an island called Seehorsekees for safe keeping until a ship should arrive which was to take them to Fort Gibson, Indian Territory. There were several islands close by, and at low tide the Indians could wade from one to the other. So, to prevent them from escaping, there was a guard of ten men detailed to watch them. These islands swarmed with poisonous insects and reptiles. Comrade McDonough, a fine fellow, whom I liked very much, was one of the detailed guards. He laid down to sleep under a tree, and shortly after another comrade saw coiled on his chest a copperhead snake. The comrade was considering what to do when McDonough became restless and turned on his side, when the snake slid off and bit him on the forearm. It is said that no person ever recovered from the bite of a copperhead snake, and certainly I never heard of one who did except my friend McDonough, and this was on account of the presence of mind of the good comrade who saw the snake. He sprang to McDonough's side and applied his mouth to the wound and sucked the poison out, and McDonough recovered, showing but very little inconvenience from it.

James D. Elderkin. Biographical Sketches and Anecdotes of a Soldier of Three Wars, as Written by Himself. (Detroit: 1899), pp. 24-31.