Timpoochee was led down a narrow corridor abaft the main deck until he was ushered into a dimly lit room filled with soldiers, desks, papers, maps and much talking.
The talk fell to silence as he was led into the room and the soldiers cleared to reveal an ornately uniformed man reclining on a settee in the corner of the room. His arm was bandaged and held to his chest by a cloth wrapped up and around his neck.
Timpoochee also noticed, standing silently in a dark corner of the room, a soldier he thought he recognized from the Yonega settlement.
“General Galvez, Sir!” spoke the lieutenant escorting Timpoochee. “Here is the leader of the captured natives we found in camp along the shore opposite Santa Rosa Island.
“Why is this man brought to me, Lieutenant?” The general responded, perplexed. “Send him to the holding pen with the other captives. I have no need of him.”
“He doesn’t seem to be a fighting native, sir,” said the lieutenant. “Neither he nor his party held any weapons. Their ship held only corn and skins, as if to trade.”
“Nonsense, Lieutenant!” the general barked. “All these Indians are fighting! And fighting us! Send him to the pen before he starts trouble on my ship.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the lieutenant. “But the holding pen is growing full, sir. What shall we do with all the extras?”
“I wish I had not pledged to General Campbell to protect the prisoners,” said the general, to no one is particular.
“If it appears any trouble will brew among the lobster-backs have some of them taken to sea and pushed off a ship’s deck. The British will surely not miss a few of their savage allies and the sharks will be happy.”