Edited by Spessard Stone from The News of St. Augustine of Saturday, September 2, 1843, reprinted from the N. Y. Sun
Introduction: During the Second Seminole War (1835-42), Gen. Alexander Macomb negotiated with the Indians a peace treaty and proclaimed an end to the war on May 20, 1839. Officers in Florida were dubious of the agreement; however, in accordance with it, Gen. Zachary Taylor (who later served as U. S. President March 4, 1849 to July 9, 1850)) ordered Lt. Col. Wiliam S. Harney of the Second Dragoons to provide protection for James B. Dallam while a trading post, 15-20 miles from the mouth of the Caloosahatchee River, was being established.
On July 23, 1839, 160 Indians led by Hospetarke and Chakaika, attacked the store and Harney's camp, near the site of the store. Caught unaware, Col. Harney, clad only in shirt and underdrawers, was embarrassed by the Indians' one-sided victory, which included the capture of $2,000 to $3,000 in trade goods, $1,500 in silver coins, the loss of the Colt rifles of many soldiers, and eighteen men killed or captured, the prisoners reportedly tortured to death. The dead included Dallam and his Irish setter, who was shot by Indians as he guarded his master's body. The war resumed with renewed bitterness, with atrocities and rapine commonplace. See John K. Mahon, History of the Second Seminole War.
Hugh M'Cartey, lately a resident in Florida, has called upon us, and furnished the following interesting narrative of his own experiences among the Florida Indians:
He was in the service of the United States, under the command of that gallant officer, Colonel Kearney (sic); when the party was taken by surprise on the 23rd of July, 1839. The party consisted of thirty, and was stationed at the Caloosahatchie Bay.
At day break the Indians approached, shot the sentinel, and the greater part of the men, the remainder took to the water with the exception of Col. Kearney (sic) and one private. Col. Kearney (sic) remained some time, the Indians firing steadily at him, but at length he made his escape, and by means of a canoe, went down to the coast, where he fell in with a small sloop, and four of the men who had escaped.
Kearney (sic) then proposed to return to the scene of slaughter, in order to bring away the wounded, if any remained alive; the men volunteered their services to accompany him; they took a barge about 8 o'clock in the evening, and went up the river to the place of the late massacre; examined the dead, (the Indian camp being not more than a quarter of a mile distant) and not finding any alive, again embarked, and made their way to the sea coast.
McCarty states that he was in the water close to sergeant Biglow (John Bigelow), with the remnant of the party when Billy Bowlegs called him to come ashore with the five or six men who were still alive. Some of them went on shore; and begged for mercy, but it was all to no purpose, they were instantly shot and butchered in the most horrible manner; while, at the same time, the Indians directed their fire upon McCarty and a few more individuals, who were still in the water.
Caloosahatchie Bay at this place is three miles wide, and the Indian camp was on the south side towards the Everglades. McCarty resolved to swim the Bay against a strong flood tide. When he reached the opposite side, he was discovered by the Indians from the camp on the south side. He instantly made for the Mangroves, hid himself, and lay until 10 o'clock in the day-the Indians still in search of him.
At 10 o'clock, as he supposed, he made his escape from them in an easterly direction. At 12 o'clock, he changed his course in the North East direction, and took the river at 8 o'clock that evening for the north side, about twenty miles above above where the massacre took place, and rapidly until 2 o'clock in the morning of the 24th. The Indians fires, at the trading house, bearing due south by the north star. He was very much tormented by the wolves, who were prowling around him in multitudes.
On the morning of the 24th, he waited in a tree until the sun was up, he found himself about ten miles from the Caloosahatchie river. He then made towards Tampa Bay, by what he supposed the nearest direction-about thirty miles through swamps and lakes-a country never traveled by a white man before.
On the evening of the 27th, he must have travelled thirty miles, when he began to suffer from hunger and want of clothes; and being in a miserable state, after wandering under a scorching sun, among swamps and mosquitoes, snakes, wolves and panthers, wet, naked and hungry, he remained all the night of the 25th among the limbs of a tree to keep clear of the wolves and panthers.
On the morning of the 26th, he started at day break, when soon after he met with some Indian signs and horses' tracks, which he followed, and at sun down arrived at the bank of a small river called the Sharlapapkee. Here he found himself astray, but followed the current in hopes that it would lead him to the sea coast. To his misfortune, he found himself mistaken, as it proved to be the Okachobee Lake, which he swam with the courage of desperation, and made for the north side of the river, keeping above the margin of the lake. From the appearance of the place, he judged he was not far from the spot where General Taylor fought the battle with the Indians on the 15th of December (1837).
On the night of the 26th, he remained on the lake shore, almost eaten alive with mosquitoes, and having no clothing whatever to cover him.
On the morning of the 27th, he pursued his course to the west, over high sand hills and large prairies. At length hunger so affected him that he grew very feeble; and night coming on he dug a hole in the dry sand, covered himself with withered grass, and slept there that night.
On the morning of the 28th, he arose and continued in the same direction. At night he arrived at the Miackee River, or Peas Creek, where he dug a hole in the sand and covered himself as before. During the night a heavy rain fell which nearly floated him.
On the 29th, being rather weak, he walked but ten miles. At 2 o'clock he arrived at the bank of the river at a high sand Page bluff; he undertook to swim across to make his way to Tampa. He swam across the river into the Cypress swamps, but had to go back again, and get out in the pine woods, about 100 yards from the bluff; here he was surprised by the report of a rifle, the ball striking close to him, and much to his surprise saw two Indians approaching him on horse back.
All power fled from him; the savages secured him with a manantee hide, and hurried him off four miles to their houses, on the bank of the river, about twenty-five miles from where it unites with the bay.
They bound him to a tree and made their horses fast to the posts of their houses, while one of their squaws came and commenced to gather pine knots and dry wood around his feet, with which to burn him alive! Her work was soon accomplished; but by the kindness of Providence, about 4 o'clock in the afternoon a heavy rain began to fall accompanied with dreadful thunder and lightning, which continued until 2 o'clock the next morning-it being the 30th.
During the night, about eight o'clock, the squaw came out with a lighted torch to set fire to the wood, but the rain having completely saturated the sticks, she was obliged to return to the house disappointed in her object, the warriors still remaining in their houses.
At 2 o'clock in the morning he made an effort to release himself from the tree, which was easily done, the hide by which he was bound being wet with the heavy rain it easily stretched, and he soon removed the cord off his hands and fled to the river, where he found two canoes belonging to the Indians.
On the 9th day after the massacre, at sun down, he was picked up by a small sloop which belonged to Major Frazier. He was then refreshed with some food, a mouthful of which he had not tasted since the evening before the slaughter. He was carried into Tampa Bay where he gave the alarming account of the massacre.
In the month of July 1841, he went as pilot in a steam boat with Capt. Ogden and 100 men, to the same place and captured 38 warriors, part of the tribe that had him as prisoner. We add the following confirmation of his sufferings from his officer:
Key West, April 21, 1843
We state at the request of Hugh McCarty, the bearer, that he has been for a long time past in the service of the U. S. as a pilot on the coast of Florida, and has been in that capacity very useful. He is one of the crew who escaped from a massacre on the Caloosahatchie River, and was on that occasion exposed to starvation for several days. Having been recaptured by the Indians he escaped from them on the Miacca River; and afterwards acted as a pilot and guide of a party which I conducted to that place, and was the means of making known the feasibility of navigating the Miacca River by the steamboats, the accomplishment of which produced important results in connexion with our operations against the Indians.
E. N. Ogden Capt. & Ass't Quarter Master, U. S. Army.
Jarvis, An Army Surgeon's Notes of Frontier Service, 1833-48 provided these further details:
August 1 [1839] * * * An Irishman named Hugh McCarty arriv'd this morning, having escap'd from the massacre of the Sanibel. The particulars as related by him as are follows: He was sleeping near Col. Harney and at the time of the alarm fled to the river which he cross'd by swimming and secreted himself in a hammock. The next day, seeing a boat in the river, he ventur'd out on a point of land to hail the persons in it when he was discover'd by some Indians who pursued him nearly 3 miles when he fled into a mangrove thicket where they were unable to find him. He afterwards recross'd the river by swimming and directed his course for Tampa.
After proceeding as far as Peace creek he was met in the open pine barrens by 2 Indians mounted on Dragoons' horses which he suppos'd were those of Col. Harney. He immediately approach'd one of the Indians to shake hands with him when the latter caught him by the hair and push'd him from him. He then dismounted, took a deer's thong with which he firmly bound his hands together behind his back. They then took him to near their camp and left him. At the time it was near dark, and from where he could distinctly hear the Indians dancing and singing. During the night a heavy rain came up which so soften'd the thong with which he was bound that he was abled to disengage himself, when he immediately fled to the river and after some time discover'd a canoe with which he paddled down the stream. In searching for clams he discover'd a small sloop call'd the Tiger from Key West which brot him to this place. His body was blister'd all over from the effects of exposure to the sun, being nearly naked. If the Irishman's story be true as to his being taken prisoner by the Indians and not being murder'd on the spot, it is owing to their having taken him for a Spaniard. He had a long time resided among the Spanish fishermen whom he somewhat resembled in appearance and spoke a few words of their language.
This, less the Jarvis account, was published as “A Tale of Indian Troubles” in The Herald-Advocate (Wauchula, Fla.) of November 11, 1993.
Thursday, April 12, 2001