My accommodation
was indifferent, but medical assistance, which I needed most, was not
wanting, and I shall never forget the courtesy of the officers.
I employed my time chiefly in rambling the woods, when health would
permit, and had a boat lent to me, with which, in company, I several
times penetrated the tortuous river, Esteenahatchie, to the bay, some
miles distant. At night the boats were all sunk, or they would have been
stolen or destroyed by the Indians, who hovered round and committed
petty depredations at every opportunity. Below the fort, was a ruinous
mill, in a gloomy dell, through which the river wended its silent
course. This had once been tenanted, but the inhabitants were murdered
some years before by the Indians, who afterwards (as is their almost
unvarying custom), added to the atrocity by setting fire to the
building.
Sitting one day, after a lengthened ramble, in solitary meditation on my
position and the surrounding scenery, I saw a fine Indian, who appeared
greatly fatigued, emerge from the adjoining hammock, and walk to the
edge of the stream, and there, after glancing round him with eager eye
and air, he laid down his rifle, and stepping on to a tree which
debouched into the stream (lying as it had been struck down by a
tornado), he crouched down at the end of it, and commenced laving
himself with the water.
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