Peru and had let no obstacle stand in the way of his chosen purpose,
he, himself, came to no peaceful end. Brutal, remorseless, ambitious,
greedy, it was only natural, that, when he had acquired power, he
should stir up enemies even among his own people. In the lovely
month of June, 1541, he was murdered in his own house at Lima by the
desperate followers of the young Almagro, or the “Men of Chili,”
as they called themselves. Secretly and hastily he was buried by a
few faithful servants in an obscure corner of the cathedral, and
thus miserably ended the life of this man of adventurous spirit and
desperate courage.
One cannot but admire the will-power of this Castilian, his serene
calmness in time of danger, and his indifference to physical suffering.
But his ruthlessness and cruelty to the Inca, his vindictive lust for
riches, his lack of feeling for the inoffensive natives, can give him
no such position in the Hall of Fame as is held by a Lincoln, a Gordon,
or a George Washington.
Peace to your restless and ambitious soul, Francisco Pizarro!
HERNANDO DE SOTO:
DISCOVERER OF THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.
(1496-1542)
“_Through the muddied lagoon we clambered, through the mire, the
slime, and the muck;_
_O’er hills and valleys we hastened, through the creeks where our
cannon stuck._
_We were stung by the fierce mosquitoes, and were mocked by the
chattering jay;_
_But we hewed and hacked a passage through the grass where the
moccasin lay._
_Fever, and heat, and ague were friends of our ceaseless toil,_
_And many a brave Castilian was interred ’neath the friendless soil._
_We searched for the El Dorado, yet no gilded man found we,_
_Instead, a bed for our numberless dead, near the sob of the
sun-gilded sea._”
SONG OF DE SOTO’S MEN—1541.
HERNANDO DE SOTO:
DISCOVERER OF THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.
(1496-1542)
IN the old Spanish town of Seville, at the time when Pizarro and his
numerous brothers were conquering the gentle Peruvians, the streets
were often filled with the adventurers who had returned from Mexico,
Panama, and South America, laden with the treasures of plundered
cities. Among these successful cavaliers, no one had a more gallant
bearing, or a more captivating presence, than Hernando de Soto, who had
been with the Castilian troops in their battles upon the lofty Peruvian
plains.
When the rapacious Spaniards had divided the ransom of the helpless
Atahuallpa, which amounted to such a fabulous sum, the ambitious De
Soto’s share, it is said, was fully a million dollars of our own money.
You see, therefore, that, when he returned to Spain, he could set up a
princely establishment and was one of the most important citizens of
the country. But, dissatisfied with the humdrum life of the civilized
community in which he had hoped to end his days, he longed to go once
more to this New World and discover other cities and other mines of
treasure. He therefore asked the King to allow him to undertake an
expedition at his own expense, for he was so rich in worldly goods
that he had no need of financial assistance from the throne, which all
the other discoverers and explorers has been seriously in need of.
None, in fact, could have succeeded in their hazardous enterprises
without the aid of the Castilian gold.
Romance is a vast assistance to exploration. Men look towards
the unknown, wonder what is there, and, in order to verify their
conjectures, go and explore. They bring back many stories. This element
was of great aid to the daring Cavalier, for a fanciful legend was then
current in Spain to the effect, that, in that far-distant America, was
a country so rich in gold, that its King was completely gilded. He was
known as El Dorado, the gilded man, and it became generally believed
that this Kingdom of the Gilded Man lay somewhere in that vast,
unexplored region, then called Florida.
The King of Spain appointed De Soto Governor of this fabled country,
and decreed that he should have the power to subdue and to rule it.
When it became known that the famous cavalier was about to start
for the New World, recruits flocked to his standard, and both high
and low-born vied with each other to gain a place in his company of
explorers. Men of noble birth even sold their estates in order to
properly equip themselves for this expedition, as they expected to
duplicate the experiences of the cavaliers in Peru and in Mexico. Many
a tradesman, also, parted with his little shop in order to purchase
armor, guns, and supplies for the great undertaking. The conquest of
Florida was the talk of the hour and was upon every lip. It was a
popular enterprise.
One beautifully clear morning in Spring a fleet of white-winged
galleons swept from the harbor of Seville. Crowds lined the quays, and,
although a faint cheer or two was heard, there were many gloomy faces,
for there was a multitude of disappointed aspirants who could not find
a vacant place upon the overcrowded ships. Bugles blared a parting
salute, the yellow flag of Spain was dipped into the blue Atlantic, and
with cries of “Adios! We will find El Dorado!” the cheering followers
of this swashbuckling hero of that day, gazed eagerly towards the now
well-known passage to the Spanish Main. It was more like a monster
picnic party than a serious expedition.
The Spaniards landed at Cuba, where they delayed for nearly a year, and
passed their time in a round of balls, tilting-matches and bullfights.
After having enjoyed themselves to the full, they again embarked and
headed for Florida, landing upon the beach at Tampa, where the American
troops who were to wrest Cuba from the Spanish rule, set out for the
harbor of Santiago, in the summer of 1898. All were cheerful and happy,
eagerly looking forward to the not far distant time when they would
find rich and populous cities to be sacked and looted in the same
manner that they had despoiled the Peruvian and Mexican strongholds.
Fearing no enemy, about three hundred of them went ashore and encamped
near the beach. They christened the bay, The Bay of the Holy Spirit;
and yet they were to find no Holy Spirit nestling behind the solemn
palm trees which grew almost down to the sand, for, as they lay in
fanciful security, suddenly the thicket rang with the wild war-whoops
of the native Floridians, and a horde of dusky forms rushed in among
them, shooting arrows and striking with sharp, stone tomahawks.
All was now a scene of terror and confusion. A few of the Spaniards ran
to the water’s edge, shrilly blowing upon their trumpets in order to
attract those left upon the ships. Others cried loudly for help, and,
piling into the longboats, their comrades hastened to their assistance,
leaped upon the sand, and, with a fierce battle-cry, drove the Indians
pell-mell into the sheltering palms. Thereafter the Castilians were
most careful to establish a picket-post around their encampments, for
they had suffered severely in this first encounter.
The boats were now unloaded, many of the larger vessels were sent
back to Cuba, while the smaller craft, or caravels, were kept for the
service of the army. A number of men were left on guard at Tampa, while
the remainder set off into the forest, heading towards the northeast.
They had not gone far before they came upon a white man, who was
none other than a lonely survivor of a previous expedition, led by a
Spaniard called Narváez. His name was Juan Ortiz. He had been with the
Indians for a long time, as he had been very young when captured by
the natives. They had spared his life because of the intercession of a
chief’s daughter. Since this lucky proceeding, which was quite similar
to that of Pocohontas and John Rolfe, he had lived with a neighboring
tribe. The Spaniards were delighted to secure his services as a guide
and interpreter.
When the followers of Pizarro had reached Peru they had immediately
found gold among the natives. You know that this is what they were
after and what they seized upon with greedy fingers. Not so in
palm-studded Florida. For, as the mail-clad invaders pushed into this
barren and sandy country, they found no gold and no splendid cities
with temples filled with jeweled images. After marching for hours
through interminable pine forests and floundering through dense swamps,
where the natives shot at them with poisoned arrows from behind trees,
and harassed and slew them as they splashed through the mire and deep
water, they found nothing but deserted villages and a few aged Indians
who were too decrepit to make their escape.
This naturally angered the adventurers. Those who had sold their
property in order to join in this hazardous expedition, began to be
sorry that they had ever left the peaceful soil of old Castile. Those
who had sacrificed good positions to take a chance in the search of
this El Dorado, began to bewail their coming, and to bemoan the fact
that they had listened to the sweet strains of romance which had been
woven over these expeditions into the unknown.
The fabled El Dorado could be no gilded chieftain, he was a gilded
fool. Alas that they ever left the gray cobbled streets of ancient
Seville!
Yet on, on, they toiled wearily, ever hoping to find the gold which
never came to view. They finally approached a native village which was
filled with warriors of mettle, for they were furiously attacked. A
shower of arrows fell among them, but, little heeding these missiles,
the Spaniards discharged their guns, and, rushing upon the patriotic
Indians, easily routed them. Many of the poor redskins took refuge in
a pond and swam out so that they could not be reached. The Spaniards
immediately surrounded the water and awaited developments. A historian
of the period says:
“Nine hundred Indians took to the pond, and, all day long, continued to
swim around shouting defiance and mounting on each other’s shoulders in
order to shoot their arrows. Night came, and not one had surrendered;
midnight, and still not one. At ten o’clock the next day, after
twenty-four hours in the water, some two hundred came out, all stiff
and cold. Others followed. The last seven would not give up, but were
dragged out unconscious by the Spaniards, who swam in after them, when
they had been thirty hours in the water, without touching bottom. Then
the humane invaders exerted themselves to warm and restore to life
these unfortunate people.”
In spite of this kind treatment, the men from Castile put irons on many
of these natives, and took them along with them, so that they would
have slaves to transport their baggage, pound their corn, and serve
them when in camp. A soldier, who has written of this journey, says
that, upon one occasion, the enslaved prisoners rose against their
masters and tried to massacre them, but the Spaniards crushed this
attempt, brought the helpless Indians to the village square, and caused
them to be hacked to pieces by their halberdiers, or swordsmen. You can
readily see that these invaders were making no happy impression upon
simple-minded Americans.
[Illustration: DE SOTO IN THE FLORIDA WILDERNESS.]
The Spaniards were now in the country of Apalachee, which was then, as
it is to-day, a land of agriculture, with well-tilled fields of corn,
of pumpkins and beans, and with a farm-loving population of red men.
The Castilians seized all the provisions which they needed for their
journey, and, when the Indians objected, slew them mercilessly, but not
without the loss of many of their own people.
Although the majority of the party were much dissatisfied with the
fact that they had not discovered gold, De Soto seemed to be satisfied
with the outlook. A few men were sent to the south in order to find
the ocean, and came back with the report that they had run upon a
magnificent harbor: the Bay of Pensacola. They had also seen the skulls
of horses on the beach, these being the remains of those killed by
the Spanish explorer, Narváez, who had fed the flesh to his men while
engaged in building boats for their departure from this country. De
Soto ordered a vessel to set sail for Cuba, stating that he had met
with great success, was much pleased with the outlook, and wished more
men and horses.
This was all very well for the provisional Governor, but still no
gold had been found, and the soldiers were discouraged and disgusted
with this lack of success. Eagerly they listened to the tales of two
Indian boys who undertook to guide them to a region where they would
find gold in abundance; the land of the Cofachiqui. It was towards the
northeast, said the lads, so the Spaniards set out in that direction,
expecting to find a city similar to Tumbez in Peru, and also El
Dorado, the golden man, sitting upon a throne of solid golden ingots.
Accordingly, they set out to cross the territory which is now the State
of Georgia. It was a pleasant, fruitful land, inhabited by a peaceable
and kindly people, who entertained them hospitably in their villages,
and furnished them generously with food. The Spaniards had no need of
resorting to their usual cruel methods, and the chiefs gave them guides
and porters so that they could more easily pass on.
But see how crafty and keen these old Indians were!
A certain chieftain offered to furnish the travelers with guides and
with porters. The Castilians eagerly accepted the offer, but so many
armed warriors assembled in order to go with them, that the Spaniards
suspected them of meditating treachery, and thus watched them very
closely. The Indians seemed to travel along peacefully enough; but,
when the village of Cofachiqui was reached, and the Spanish soldiers
had gone to sleep, their redskinned guides and porters fell upon the
unsuspecting natives, who lived there, and massacred all upon whom they
could lay their hands. This, indeed, had been a war-party in disguise,
which had taken a clever method of invading the territory of a tribe
which was hostile to them, and which heretofore they had been afraid to
attack. The affair took place at a distance of between thirty or forty
miles below the present city of Augusta, Georgia.
Still the travelers kept on and on. Ever were their thoughts upon gold,
and yet no gold seemed to appear, nor did the natives seem to possess
any of the precious metal. After they had crossed a broad river, they
found a well-to-do race of natives in a well-tilled country, governed
by a young woman who received them with great kindness and gave them
corn, pork, and sweet potatoes. She also presented them with pearls, of
which she had a great quantity, as they were found in the shell-fish in
the streams. De Soto saw little value in these stones, and, although he
was invited to carry away all that he could, he refused to take more
than fifty pounds, as a sample to show to the Cubans when he should
return. He was also presented with a herd of hogs, which he drove off
before him towards the west.
The climate was not unhealthy, and so the Castilians had an easy time
of it. They wandered through upper Georgia, across the mountains into
lower Tennessee, and then into the present State of Alabama. As vessels
from Cuba were expected to meet them with re-enforcements and supplies,
they now headed for Pensacola Bay.
At a place called Choctaw Bluff, not far from the present city of
Mobile, they came to an Indian town presided over by a fierce chieftain
by the name of Tuscaloosa, which means Black Warrior. This village
had the sweet-sounding name of Mauvila. It was surrounded by a high
palisade, which was chinked and plastered with mud, and, besides this,
there were slits in the sides of the walls, so that those who defended
it could shoot through at an attacking party.
De Soto rode ahead of the main body of Castilians with about a
hundred horsemen. They were clad in doublets and trousers, with steel
caps, breast plates and greaves upon their legs. As it was warm,
most of this armor was slung to their saddles with cords, while the
cavaliers trotted along joyously, chanting many an old Spanish song,
and laughing and jesting with one another, for they were having a
pleasant journey, even though no gold had been discovered. Reaching the
sleepy little village of these southern Indians, they were met by the
chief, Tuscaloosa, who appeared to be most friendly and asked them to
enter and have a feast. Fearing nothing, and remembering the pleasant
reception which they had received while marching through Georgia, they
trotted gayly forward, while De Soto chatted with the chief by means of
a native interpreter.
They rode to a position near the palisade, and then, dismounting, went
inside in order to greet the inhabitants. Here was a large Indian town
and hundreds of women, who greeted them in a friendly manner and waved
their hands. Almost immediately a blow was struck. The Spaniards say
that they were enticed into the palisade on purpose, and in order that
they might be slaughtered by thousands of warriors who were hidden
behind the wigwams, and had been summoned thither from the surrounding
country. This is hardly probable, for, had the Indians contemplated
a battle, they would certainly have first removed their children. No
doubt a hot-headed Castilian started all the trouble. At any rate
the soldiers from Seville were soon engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand
encounter with a vast concourse of howling savages.
There was a fearful battle. The cavaliers had fortunately donned their
armor, after dismounting from their horses, and it was well, for a
shower of sharp-pointed arrows fell amongst them. A horde of Indians
swarmed from their houses and swept the invaders before them, driving
them in a struggling mass through the narrow entrance to the palisade.
The Castilians ran to their horses and hastily mounted, but some were
so hard-pressed by the natives that they were unable to get into
their saddles, while their patient steeds, struck with a shower of
arrows, broke away and ran frantically into the woods. In spite of the
confusion and uproar, the Spaniards kept cool, and, although driven to
a distance, formed a battle line and came back, pressing the native
bowmen before them. With fixed lances they charged into the yelping
mob, only to be met with splendid courage by the native soldiers.
De Soto bore himself right valiantly and led his men, using his long,
sharp lance with deadly effect. His soldiers, too, were not laggards
in the attack, and followed him closely, shouting the Spanish battle
cry: “St. Iago and at them!” Many were sorely wounded. De Soto himself,
as he leaned forward to make a lance thrust, received an arrow in the
exposed portion of his thigh. This made it impossible for him to sit
down, so, throughout the remainder of the day, he rode, standing in his
stirrups.
Several of the more prominent Castilians were shot dead. The Spanish
leader’s brother, Diego de Soto, was pierced through the eye by an
arrow, which came out at the back of his neck. A young cavalier, called
Carlo Enriquez, who had married the Governor of Florida’s niece,
leaned over the neck of his horse in order to pull out an arrow from
the animal’s breast, and thus exposed his throat, which was instantly
pierced by an Indian barb, so that he fell prostrate. Thus the battle
raged furiously, while shrill trumpets blared out the distress of the
Spaniards and summoned their easy-riding comrades to come speedily to
their assistance.
The greater portion of De Soto’s troop were jogging peacefully along
in the sunshine, little realizing into what a desperate strait their
advance guard had fallen. Late in the afternoon they approached the
Indian village and were much surprised to see dense volumes of smoke
rising to the sky. Those in advance sent back word to hurry on, while
they galloped forward in order to see what was amiss. All hurried
towards the sound of battle, and, now, realizing that their comrades
were in a desperate fight, they rushed to their assistance, cheering
wildly as they did so. The black smoke was pouring from the thatched
Indian houses, which the Spaniards had set on fire, and a bloody
hand-to-hand engagement was in progress around the smoking débris.
The main body of cavaliers had now arrived. They charged vigorously,
cutting down both women and men, and, amidst the shrieks of the women
and wailing of little children, Tuscaloosa’s people were annihilated.
At last all had been dispersed or butchered.
The Spanish histories of this bloody affair say that at last only a
solitary warrior was left. Seeing that all his friends and companions
had either perished or fled, he sprang upon the palisade, and, finding
that he was surrounded on all sides by vindictive steel-clad Spaniards
with menacing swords, he twisted off his bow-string, and, making a
slip-noose, hanged himself to the stout limb of a tree.
The battle of Mauvila had left De Soto in a sorry state, for eighty-two
of his followers had been killed, and so many of the men had been
wounded that the surgeon could not give them proper attention. In fact,
so broken up were the cavaliers, and particularly the horses, which
had suffered badly from the numerous arrows which had been fired into
them, that De Soto was forced to tarry in the vicinity of the ruined
Indian village for three weeks. The Spanish accounts of the battle say
that eleven thousand natives fell before the swords, lances, and clumsy
muskets of the Castilian invaders of this peaceful country.
De Soto was only a few days’ journey from Pensacola, where the ship,
which he had sent to Cuba for supplies, was to reach him. Yet, instead
of heading for the ocean, he decided to march towards the north,
evidently hoping to find some city where was gold and silver, similar
to that which he had seen in the table-lands of Peru.
The El Dorado seekers accordingly marched northwest, and passed through
a flat country where was much game. The Indians were treacherous
and constantly annoyed them by attempting to steal their horses,
and by attacking any parties which traveled at a distance from the
main column. It was now December. As the weather grew chill, De Soto
determined to spend the winter in some convenient spot, and, as he now
came upon a well-built Indian town, which had recently been deserted,
he reached the conclusion that this was the very place for which he had
been in search. Accordingly, his cavaliers made themselves comfortable
in the thatched huts of the Chickasaws, for such was the name of the
redskins who had settled here.
Trouble was still in store for the adventurous gold-seekers.
After their many battles and long journeys, the men enjoyed themselves
in hunting and in taking life easy. There was an abundance of corn
stored here, so their horses grew sleek and fat, while their masters
chased rabbits and other small game. All was peaceful. Apparently not
an Indian was in the vicinity, so the guards relaxed their vigilance,
grew somewhat careless, and unsuspectingly offered a tempting opening
to any redskins who might wish to attack them.
One night the Chickasaws made good use of their opportunity to get even
with the invaders of what they considered to be their sacred soil. It
was towards the end of January and a fierce north wind was blowing.
While the men were sleeping in their huts, suddenly a wild war-whoop
welled upon the night air, and, as the wind howled dismally, the roofs
over their heads burst into a crackling blaze. Fanned by the high
breeze, the flames leaped into the air, and, in a moment the whole camp
was red with fire. The Spaniards sprang to arms and rushed forth to the
fray, some in their shirts, and many without their armor on.
What had happened?