_The Landing in Florida._
The Departure from Spain.--Arrival in Cuba.--Leonora and
Tobar.--Isabella Invested with the Regency.--Sad Life of
Isabella.--Sailing of the Expedition.--The Landing at
Tampa Bay.--Outrages of Narvaez.--Noble Spirit of
Ucita.--Unsuccessful Enterprises.--Disgrace and Return
of Porcallo.
The brilliant armament spread its sails to a favorable breeze at the
port of San Lucar, on the morning of the sixth of April, 1538. The
squadron consisted of seven large ships, and three smaller vessels. It
must have been an imposing and busy scene in that little bay, upon
which the sun looked serenely down three hundred years ago. In
addition to the Floridian fleet, there was another squadron of
twenty-six sail, at the same time weighing anchor, bound for Mexico.
Bugle peals resounded from ship and shore, while salvoes of artillery
swept over the waves and reverberated among the cliffs.
Isabella accompanied her husband, and quite an imposing train of
attendants was attached to the governor's family. The sail of a
fortnight brought them to the Canary Islands. The Count Gomera, a
Spanish nobleman, was in command. No religious scruples lent their
restraints to his luxurious court. He had a very beautiful daughter,
seventeen years of age, named Leonora. The father loved her tenderly.
He was perhaps anxious to shield her from the deleterious influences
with which she was surrounded. The high moral worth of Isabella
impressed him; and arrangements were made for Leonora to accompany
Isabella to Cuba, as a companion, to be treated in all respects as her
own daughter.
On the twenty-fourth of April the fleet again set sail, and reached
St. Jago de Cuba the latter part of May. This city was then the
capital of the island. It was situated on the southern shore, at the
head of a bay running inland about six miles. It was then quite
populous, and was opulent with the wealth of which previous Spanish
adventurers had robbed the unhappy Cubans. The whole city turned out
with music, and banners and gorgeous processions, to give a suitable
reception to their new governor.
A grand tournament was held on the occasion. Among the cavaliers who
were contending for the prizes there was a young nobleman, Nuno de
Tobar, who was De Soto's lieutenant-general. He was one of the most
accomplished of the Spanish grandees, and bore off many of the prizes.
The beauty of Leonora won his admiration. They were thrown much
together, and he betrayed her. At the confessional Leonora opened her
heart to the priest. It is probable that he communicated with the
governor. De Soto's indignation was thoroughly roused. He summoned the
culprit before him. Tobar, deeming his offense a very trivial one,
without hesitation acknowledged it, thinking, perhaps, that he might
receive some slight reprimand. He was not a little surprised when the
governor said in indignant tones:
"Leonora was placed under my care by her father. I pledged myself to
protect her at the hazard of my own life. To-morrow morning you must
meet me in single combat, where you will have a chance to protect the
life you have justly forfeited."
There was no man probably, in the whole Spanish army, who could safely
cross swords with De Soto in mortal strife. Tobar was appalled. He
well knew that in such a rencontre death was his inevitable doom.
Overwhelmed with confusion, he said:
"I have not committed a capital crime. If I had, I should not expect
your Excellency to be my executioner. It is impossible for me to
contend with you in single combat. By accepting your challenge, I doom
myself to certain destruction."
De Soto replied: "Your crime is not a trivial one. You cannot evade
the consequences by refusing to meet them. To say nothing of the wrong
you have done this unhappy girl, your treachery to me deserves the
punishment of a traitor. You may choose whether you will die like a
soldier, sword in hand, or like a criminal, under the axe of the
executioner."
Tobar withdrew. He hastened to the room of the confessor. With him he
called upon Leonora, and, taking a few witnesses, repaired to the
church, where the marriage ceremony was immediately performed. Within
an hour he returned to the governor and informed him that he had made
all the reparation in his power. De Soto, his brow still clouded with
severe displeasure, replied:
"You have saved your life, but you can never regain my confidence. You
are no longer my lieutenant. That office can be held only by one whose
honor is unsullied."
De Soto remained about three months in Cuba, making a tour of the
island, establishing his government, purchasing horses, and making
other preparations for the expedition to Florida. While thus engaged,
he sent a vessel, with a picked crew, to coast along the shores of the
land he was about to invade, in search of a commodious harbor, where
his troops might disembark. After many perilous adventures, the vessel
returned with a satisfactory report.
The fleet, and all the armament it was to bear, were rendezvoused at
Havana, on the northern coast of Cuba, where a fair wind in a few
hours would convey them to the shores of Florida. On the twelfth of
May, some authorities say the eighteenth, of the year 1539, the
expedition set sail upon one of the most disastrous adventures in
which heroic men ever engaged. Terrible as were the woes they
inflicted upon the natives, no less dreadful were the calamities which
they drew down upon themselves.
Isabella had been anxious to accompany her husband to Florida. But he,
aware of the hardships and perils to which they would be exposed,
would not give his consent. She consequently remained at Cuba,
entrusted with the regency of the island. She never saw her husband
again. Poor Isabella! In sadness she had waited fifteen years for her
nuptials. Two short years had glided away like a dream in the night.
And then, after three years of intense anxiety, during which she heard
almost nothing of her husband, the tidings reached her of his death.
It was a fatal blow to her faithful and loving heart. World-weary and
sorrow-crushed, she soon followed him to the spirit-land. Such is
life; not as God has appointed it, but as sin has made it.
The expedition consisted of eight large ships, a caraval, and two
brigantines. They were freighted with everything which could be deemed
needful to conquer the country, and then to colonize it. The force
embarked, in addition to the sailors who worked the ships, consisted
of a thousand thoroughly armed men, and three hundred and fifty
horses. Contrary winds gave them a slow passage across the gulf. On
the twenty-fifth of May they entered the harbor of which they were in
search. It was on the western coast of the magnificent peninsula. De
Soto then gave it the name of Espiritu Santo. It is now however known
as Tampa Bay.
As they entered the harbor beacon fires were seen blazing along the
eminences, indicating that the natives had taken the alarm, and were
preparing for resistance. Several days were employed in cautious
sounding of the harbor and searching for a suitable landing-place, as
it seemed probable that opposition was to be encountered. On the last
day of May, a detachment of three hundred soldiers landed on the beach
and took possession of the land in the name of Charles the Fifth. The
serene day was succeeded by a balmy night. Not an Indian was to be
seen; and the bloom, luxuriance and fruitage of the tropics, spread
enchantingly around them.
The hours of the night passed away undisturbed. But just before dawn a
terrific war-whoop resounded through the forest, as from a thousand
throats, and a band of Indian warriors came rushing down, hurling upon
the invaders a shower of arrows and javelins. The attack was so
sudden and impetuous that the Spaniards were thrown into a panic. They
rushed for their boats, and with loudest bugle peals, called for aid
from their companions in the ships. The summons met with a prompt
response. Boats were immediately lowered, and a large party of
steel-clad men and horses were sent to their aid.
When Nuno Tobar was degraded, and dismissed from his office as
lieutenant-general, a rich, hair-brained Spanish nobleman, by the name
of Vasco Porcallo, took his place. He was a gay cavalier, brave even
to recklessness, of shallow intellect, but a man who had seen much
hard service in the battlefields of those days. He was very rich,
residing at Trinidad in Cuba. He joined the enterprise for the
conquest of Florida, influenced by an instinctive love of adventure,
and by the desire to kidnap Indians to work as slaves on his
plantations. The valiant Porcallo headed the party sent to the rescue
of those on shore.
In such an adventure he was entirely in his element. Immediately upon
landing he put spurs to his horse and, accompanied by only seven
dragoons, with his sabre flashing in the air, plunged into the very
thickest of the Indians. Soon they were put to flight. An Indian
arrow, however, pierced his saddle and its housings, and reached the
vitals of his horse. The noble steed dropped dead beneath him.
Porcallo was quite proud of his achievement, and boasted not a little
that his arm had put the _infidels_, as he called the Indians, to
flight, and that his horse was the first to fall in the encounter.
During the day all the troops were disembarked and encamped upon the
shore. It was reported that there was quite a populous Indian town at
the distance of about six miles from the place of landing. While the
ammunition and commissary stores were being brought on shore, the
little army marched for this village. It was the residence of the
chief of the powerful tribe who occupied that region. His name was
Ucita, and from him the village received the same appellation.
The Spaniards met with no opposition on their march. But when they
reached the village they found it entirely deserted. It was quite a
large town, the houses being built substantially of timber, thatched
with palm leaves. Many of these edifices were large and commodious,
containing several rooms. Their articles of household furniture were
convenient, and some of them quite elegant. The dresses, especially
those of the females, were artistic and often highly ornamental. Very
beautiful shawls and mantillas were manufactured by them. Their finest
fabrics were woven by the hand from the fibrous bark of the
mulberry-tree and hemp, which grew wild and in abundance. The natives
had acquired the art of rich coloring, and the garments thus
manufactured by them were often really beautiful. The walls of the
houses of the wealthier citizens were hung with tapestry of very
softly tanned and richly prepared buckskin; and carpets of the same
material were spread upon the floors.
The Floridians were not acquainted with iron, that most indispensable
article with nations of high enlightenment. But they had succeeded in
imparting a temper to copper, so as to give many of their tools quite
a keen edge. Though the inhabitants of Florida had not attained that
degree of civilization which had been reached by the Peruvians, it
will be seen that they were immeasurably in advance of the savages in
the northern portion of the continent, and that their homes far
surpassed those of the peasantry of Ireland, and were more tasteful
and commodious than the log huts which European emigrants erect as
their first home in the wilderness of the West. They cultivated the
ground mainly for their subsistence, though hunting and fishing were
resorted to, then as now, for recreation as well as for food.
De Soto took possession of the deserted village, and occupied the
houses of the inhabitants as barracks for his soldiers. A few
straggling Indians were taken captive. From them he learned that he
was doomed to suffer for the infamous conduct of the Spanish
adventurer, Narvaez, who had preceded him in a visit to this region.
This vile man had been guilty of the most inhuman atrocities. He had
caused the mother of the chief Ucita to be torn to pieces by
bloodhounds, and in a transport of passion had awfully mutilated Ucita
himself, by cutting off his nose. Consequently, the chief and all his
people were exasperated to the highest degree. The injuries they had
received were such as could never be forgiven or forgotten.
De Soto was very anxious to cultivate friendly relations with the
Indians. Whatever may have been his faults, his whole career thus far
had shown him to be by nature a kind-hearted and upright man, hating
oppression and loving justice. The faults of his character rather
belonged to the age in which he lived, than to the individual man. No
military leader has ever yet been able to restrain the passions of his
soldiers. Wherever an army moves, there will always be, to a greater
or less degree, plunder and violence. De Soto earnestly endeavored to
introduce strict discipline among his troops. He forbade the slightest
act of injustice or disrespect towards the Indians. Whenever a captive
was taken, he treated him as a father would treat a child, and
returned him to his home laden with presents. He availed himself of
every opportunity to send friendly messages to Ucita. But the
mutilated chief was in no mood to be placated. His only reply to these
kind words was,
"I want none of the speeches or promises of the Spaniards. Bring me
their heads and I will receive them joyfully."
The energies of De Soto inspired his whole camp. The provisions and
munitions of war were promptly landed and conveyed to Ucita. The place
was strongly fortified, and a hardy veteran, named Pedro Calderon, was
placed in command of the garrison entrusted with its defence. All the
large ships were sent back to Cuba, probably to obtain fresh supplies
of military stores; some say that it was to teach the army that, there
being no possibility of escape, it now must depend upon its own valor
for existence.
De Soto was very unwilling to set out for a march into the interior
for discovery and in search of gold, while leaving so powerful a tribe
as that over which Ucita reigned, in hostility behind him. He
therefore sent repeated messages to Ucita expressing his utter
detestation of the conduct of Narvaez; his desire to do everything in
his power to repair the wrong which had been inflicted upon him, and
his earnest wish to establish friendly relations with the
deeply-injured chief.
These reiterated friendly advances, ever accompanied by correspondent
action, at length in some slight degree mitigated the deadly rancor of
Ucita, so that instead of returning a message of defiance and hate, he
sent back the truly noble response:
"The memory of my injuries prevents me from returning a kind reply to
your messages, and your courtesy is such that it will not allow me to
return a harsh answer."
The man who, under these circumstances, could frame such a reply, must
have been one of nature's noblemen. De Soto could appreciate the
grandeur of such a spirit. While these scenes were transpiring, a man
was brought into the camp, in Indian costume, who announced himself as
a Spaniard by the name of Juan Ortiz. He had been one of the
adventurers under Narvaez. In the extermination of that infamous band
he had been taken captive and bound to the stake, to be consumed. He
was then but eighteen years of age, tall and very handsome. As the
tongues of torturing flame began to eat into his quivering flesh,
cries of agony were extorted from him.
He was in the hands of a powerful chief, whose daughter is represented
as a very beautiful princess, by the name of Uleleh. She was about
sixteen years of age, and could not endure the scene. She threw her
arms around her father's neck, and with tears of anguish pleaded that
his life might be saved. He was rescued; and though for a time he
suffered extreme cruelty, he eventually became adopted, as it were,
into the tribe, and for ten years had resided among the Indians,
sometimes regarded as a captive, upon whom heavy burdens could be
imposed, and again treated with great kindness. Juan Ortiz being thus
familiar with the habits of the natives and their language, became an
invaluable acquisition to the adventurers.
De Soto inquired very earnestly of him respecting the country and the
prospect of finding any region abounding with silver and gold. Ortiz
had but little information to give, save that, at the distance of
about a hundred miles from where they then were, there was a great
chief named Uribaracaxi, to whom all the adjacent chiefs were
tributary. His realms were represented as far more extensive,
populous, and rich than those of the surrounding chieftains. De Soto
dispatched a band of sixty horsemen and sixty foot soldiers with
presents and messages of friendship to Uribaracaxi. The object of the
expedition was to explore the country and to make inquiries respecting
gold.
A weary march of about forty miles brought the party to the village of
Mucozo, where Ortiz had resided for some years. The chief of this
tribe, whose name was also Mucozo, was brother-in-law to Uribaracaxi.
Mucozo received the Spaniards with great hospitality, and learning
that they were on a friendly visit to Uribaracaxi, furnished them with
a guide. Four days were occupied in a tedious march through a country
where pathless morasses continually embarrassed their progress.
This expedition was under the command of Balthazar de Gallegos. He
reached his point of destination in safety. But the chief, deeming it
not prudent to trust himself in the hands of the Spaniards, whose
renown for fiendish deeds had filled the land, had retired from his
capital, and nearly all the inhabitants had fled with him. He left for
his uninvited guests no message either of welcome or defiance.
Gallegos found all his attempts to open any communications with him
unavailing. There was no plunder in the city worth seizing, and De
Soto's commands to the expedition were very strict, to treat the
Indians with the utmost kindness and humanity.
Gallegos made earnest inquiries of the Indians whom he met, as to the
provinces where gold and silver could be found. They told him that
there was a country many leagues west of them, of marvellous
luxuriance and beauty, where gold was found in such abundance that the
warriors had massive shields and helmets made of that precious metal.
The more shrewd of the Spaniards placed very little reliance upon
this testimony. They thought they saw evidence that the Indians were
ready to fabricate any story by which they could rid themselves of
their visitors.
Soon after the departure of Gallegos, De Soto received the
intelligence that the chief Ucita had taken refuge in a forest,
surrounded with swamps, not far from the Spanish camp. The
vainglorious Porcallo was exceedingly indignant that the Indian chief
should presume to hold himself aloof from all friendly advances. He
entreated De Soto to grant him the privilege of capturing the
fugitive. De Soto complied with his request. The impetuous old man,
fond of parade, and lavish of his wealth, selected a band of horsemen
and footmen, all of whom were gorgeously apparelled for the occasion.
He, himself, was mounted on a magnificent steed and cased in
glittering armor.
It seems that the noble Ucita kept himself well informed of every
movement of the invaders. With a spirit of magnanimity which would
have done honor to the best Christian in the Spanish ranks, he sent a
courier to meet Porcallo, and to say to him,
"You will only expose yourself to infinite peril from the rivers,
morasses, and forests through which you will have to pass in your
attempt to reach my retreat. My position is so secure that all your
attempts to take me will result only in your own loss. I do not send
you this message from any fears on my own account, but because your
leader, De Soto, has manifested so much forbearance in not injuring my
territory or my subjects."
It is really refreshing to find here and there, among all these
demoniac deeds of demoniac men, some remaining traces of that nobility
of character which man had before the fall, when created in God's
image he was but little lower than the angels. Man, as we see him
developed in history, is indeed a ruin, but the ruin of a once noble
fabric. When we think of what man might be, in all generous
affections, and then think of what man is, it is enough to cause one
to weep tears of blood.
Porcallo could not appreciate the magnanimity of Ucita. He regarded
the message as one of the stratagems of war, dictated either by fear
or cowardice. He therefore ordered the trumpets to sound the advance,
his only fear being, that the chief might escape. Porcallo, a Quixotic
knight, had no element of timidity in his character. He led his
troops. He never said "Go," but "Follow." Pressing rapidly forward,
the little band soon arrived upon the border of a vast and dismal
morass, utterly pathless, stretching out many leagues in extent.
The hot-headed cavalier, thinking that the swamp might be waded, put
spurs to his horse and dashed forward. He had advanced but a few rods
when the horse, struggling knee-deep through the mire, stumbled and
fell. One of the legs of the rider was so caught beneath the animal as
to pin him inextricably in the morass, covering him with water and
with mud. The weight of his armor sank him deeper in the mire, and in
the desperate struggles of the steed for extrication, he was in great
danger of being suffocated. None could come to his aid without danger
of being swallowed up in the bog.
The unfeeling and brutal soldiers stood upon the borders of the morass
with shouts of merriment, as they witnessed the sudden discomfiture of
their leader; a discomfiture the more ludicrous, in contrast with his
gorgeous attire, and his invariably proud and lofty bearing. At length
Porcallo extricated himself, and, drenched with water, and covered
with mud, led his equally bemired steed to the land. He was humiliated
and enraged. The derision of the soldiers stung him to the quick. He
had embarked in the expedition to gain glory and slaves. He had
encountered disgrace; and the prospect of kidnapping the natives,
under such a leader as De Soto had proved himself to be, was very
small.
It is probable that before this disaster he had seriously contemplated
abandoning the expedition and returning to his princely mansion in
Trinidad. Ordering his men to face about, he sullenly and silently
returned to the Spanish camp. Throwing up his commission with disgust,
he embarked for Cuba, and we hear of him no more.
"His train of servants," writes Mr. Theodore Irving,
"Spanish, Indian and negro, were embarked with all speed. But
when the gallant old cavalier came to take leave of his young
companions in arms, and the soldiers he had lately aspired to
lead so vain-gloriously, his magnificent spirit broke forth.
He made gifts to the right and left, dividing among the
officers and knights all the arms, accoutrements, horses and
camp equipage, with which he had come so lavishly and so
ostentatiously provided, and gave, for the use of the army,
all the ample store of provisions and munitions brought for
the use of himself and his retinue. This done, he bade
farewell to campaigning and set sail for Cuba, much to the
regret of the army, who lamented that so gallant a spirit
should have burned out so soon."[B]
[Footnote B: Conquest of Florida, by Theodore Irving, p. 81.]
Indeed, it is stated in what is called "The Portuguese Narrative" of
these events, that Porcallo and De Soto had already quarrelled so
decisively that they were no longer on speaking terms. Porcallo,
thoroughly destitute of moral principle, was a slave hunter; a
character whom De Soto thoroughly despised, and whose operations he
would not on any account allow to be carried on in his army. Porcallo
therefore found no difficulty in obtaining permission to retire from
the service. Probably both the governor and his lieutenant were
equally happy to be rid of each other.
[Illustration]