_Winter Quarters._
Incidents of the March.--Passage of the River.--Entering
Anhayea.--Exploring Expeditions.--De Soto's desire for
Peace.--Capture of Capafi.--His Escape.--Embarrassments
of De Soto.--Letter of Isabella.--Exploration of the
Coast.--Discovery of the Bay of Pensacola.--Testimony
Respecting Cafachique.--The March Resumed.
The Spaniards now entered upon a beautiful and highly cultivated
region, waving with fields of corn and adorned with many pleasant
villages and scattered farm-houses. It seemed to be the abode of
peace, plenty and happiness. It certainly might have been such, but
for the wickedness of man. Wearied with their long march and almost
incessant battle, the Spaniards encamped in the open plain, where
their horsemen would be able to beat off assaults.
But the night brought them no repose. It was necessary to keep a large
force mounted and ready for conflict. The natives, in large numbers,
surrounded them, menacing an attack from every quarter, repeatedly
drawing near enough in the darkness to throw their arrows into the
camp, and keeping up an incessant and hideous howling. After a
sleepless night, with the earliest light of the morning they resumed
their march along a very comfortable road, which led through extensive
fields of corn, beans, pumpkins and other vegetables. The prairie
spread out before them in its beautiful, level expanse, till lost in
the distant horizon. All the day long their march was harassed by
bands of natives springing up from ambush in the dense corn-fields
which effectually concealed them from view. Many were the bloody
conflicts in which the natives were cut down mercilessly, and still
their ferocity and boldness continued unabated.
After thus toiling on for six miles the Spaniards approached a deep
stream, supposed to be the river Uche. It was crossed by a narrow ford
with deep water above and below. Here the natives had constructed
palisades, and interposed other obstacles, behind which, with their
arrows and javelins, they seemed prepared to make a desperate
resistance. De Soto, after carefully reconnoitering the position,
selected a number of horsemen, who were most effectually protected
with their steel armor, and sent them forward, with shields on one
arm, and with swords and hatchets to hew away these obstructions,
which were all composed of wood. Though several of the Spaniards were
slain and many wounded, they effected a passage, when the mounted
horsemen plunged through the opening, put the Indians to flight and
cut them down with great slaughter.
Continuing their march, on the other side of the river, for a distance
of about six miles through the same fertile and well populated region,
they were admonished by the approach of night, again to seek an
encampment. The night was dark and gloomy. All were deeply depressed
in spirits. An incessant battle seemed their destiny. The golden
mountains of which they were in pursuit were ever vanishing away. They
were on the same path which had previously been traversed by the cruel
but energetic Narvaez, and where his whole company had been
annihilated, leaving but four or five to tell the tale of the awful
tragedy.
Dreadful as were the woes which these adventurers had brought upon the
Indians, still more terrible were the calamities in which they had
involved themselves. They were now three hundred miles from Tampa Bay.
Loud murmurs began to rise in the camp. Nearly all demanded to return.
But, for De Soto, the abandonment of the enterprise was disgrace, and
apparently irretrievable ruin. There was scarcely any condition of
life more to be deplored than that of an impoverished nobleman. De
Soto was therefore urged onward by the energies of despair.
Again through all the hours of the night, they were exposed to an
incessant assault from their unwearied foes. From their captives they
learned that they were but six miles from the village of Anhayea,
where their chief, Capafi, resided. This was the first instance in
which they heard of a chief who did not bear the same name as the town
in which he dwelt. Early in the morning, De Soto, with two hundred
mounted cavaliers and one hundred footmen, led the advance, and soon
entered the village, which consisted of two hundred and fifty houses,
well built and of large size.
At one end of the village stood the dwelling of the chief, which was
quite imposing in extent, though not in the grandeur of its
architecture. The chief and all his men had fled, and the Spaniards
entered deserted streets. The army remained here for several days,
finding abundance of food. Still they were harassed, day and night, by
the indomitable energy of the natives. Two well armed expeditions were
sent out to explore the country on the north and the west, for a
distance of forty or fifty miles, while a third was dispatched to the
south in search of the ocean.
Anhayea, where the main body of the army took up its quarters, is
supposed to have been near the present site of the city of
Tallahassee. The two first expeditions sent out, returned, one in
eight and the other in nine days, bringing back no favorable report.
The other, sent in search of the ocean, was absent much longer, and De
Soto became very apprehensive that it had been destroyed by the
natives.
Through many perilous and wild adventures, being often betrayed and
led astray by their guides, they reached, after a fortnight's travel,
the head of the bay now called St. Mark's. Here they found vestiges of
the adventurers who had perished in the ill-fated Narvaez expedition.
There was a fine harbor to which reinforcements and fresh supplies of
ammunition might be sent to them by ships from Cuba, or from Tampa
Bay. With these tidings they hurried back to Anhayea.
They had now reached the month of November, 1539. The winter in these
regions, though short, had often days of such excessive cold that men
upon the open prairie, exposed to bleak winds called northers, often
perished from the severity of the weather. De Soto resolved to
establish himself in winter-quarters at Anhayea. With his suite he
occupied the palace of the chief. The other houses were appropriated
to the soldiers for their barracks. He threw up strong fortifications
and sent out foraging parties into the region around, for a supply of
provisions. As we have no intimation that any payment was made, this
was certainly robbery. Whatever may be said of the necessities of his
case, it was surely unjust to rob the Indians of their harvests.
Still, De Soto should not be condemned unheard; and while we have no
evidence that he paid the natives for the food he took from them,
still we have no proof that he did not do so.
In accordance with his invariable custom, he made strenuous efforts to
win the confidence of the natives. Through captive Indians he sent
valuable presents to the chief Capafi in his retreat, and also
assurances that he sought only friendly relations between them. The
chief, however, was in no mood to give any cordial response to these
advances. He had taken refuge in a dense forest, surrounded by dismal
morasses, which could only be traversed by a narrow pass known only to
the Indians, where his warriors in ambush might easily arrest the
march of the whole army of Spaniards. The brutal soldiery of Narvaez
had taught them to hate the Spaniards.
He kept up an incessant warfare, sending out from his retreat fierce
bands to assail the invaders by day and by night, never allowing them
one moment of repose. Many of the Spaniards were slain. But they
always sold their lives very dearly, so that probably ten natives
perished to one of the Spaniards. There was nothing gained by this
carnage. De Soto was anxious to arrest it. Every consideration
rendered it desirable for him to have the good will of the natives.
Peace and friendship would enable him to press forward with infinitely
less difficulty in search of his imaginary mountains of gold and
silver, and would greatly facilitate his establishment of a colony
around the waters of some beautiful bay in the Gulf, whence he could
ship his treasures to Spain and receive supplies in return.
Finding it impossible to disarm the hostility of Capafi by any kindly
messages or presents, he resolved if possible to take him captive. In
this way only could he arrest the cruel war. The veneration of the
Indians for their chief was such that, with Capafi in the hands of the
Spaniards as a hostage, they would cease their attacks out of regard
to his safety.
It was some time before De Soto could get any clew to the retreat in
which Capafi was concealed. And he hardly knew how to account for the
fact, that the sovereign of a nation of such redoubtable ferocity,
should never himself lead any of his military bands, in the fierce
onsets which they were incessantly making. At length De Soto learned
that Capafi, though a man of great mental energy, was incapacitated
from taking the field by his enormous obesity. He was so fat that he
could scarcely walk, and was borne from place to place on a litter.
He could give very energetic commands, but the execution of them must
be left to others. He also ascertained that this formidable chief had
taken up his almost unapproachable quarters about twenty-five miles
from Anhayea; and that in addition to the tangled thickets and
treacherous morasses with which nature had surrounded him, he had also
fortified himself in the highest style of semi-barbarian art, and had
garrisoned his little fortress with a band of his most indomitable
warriors.
Notwithstanding the difficulty of the enterprise, De Soto resolved to
attempt to capture him. This was too arduous a feat to be entrusted to
the leadership of any one but himself. He took a select body of
horsemen and footmen, and after a very difficult journey of three
days, came to the borders of the citadel where the chief and his
garrison were intrenched. Mr. Irving, in his admirable history of the
Conquest of Florida, gives the following interesting account of the
fortress, and of the battle in which it was captured:
"In the heart of this close and impervious forest, a piece of
ground was cleared and fortified for the residence of the
Cacique and his warriors. The only entrance or outlet, was by
a narrow path cut through the forest. At every hundred paces,
this path was barricaded by palisades and trunks of trees,
at each of which was posted a guard of the bravest warriors.
Thus the fat Cacique was ensconced in the midst of the forest
like a spider in the midst of his web, and his devoted
subjects were ready to defend him to the last gasp.
"When the Governor arrived at the entrance to the perilous
defile, he found the enemy well prepared for its defence. The
Spaniards pressed forward, but the path was so narrow that
the two foremost only could engage in the combat. They gained
the first and second palisades at the point of the sword.
There it was necessary to cut the osiers and other bands,
with which the Indians had fastened the beams. While thus
occupied they were exposed to a galling fire and received
many wounds. Notwithstanding all these obstacles, they gained
one palisade after the other until, by hard fighting, they
arrived at the place of refuge of the Cacique.
"The conflict lasted a long time, with many feats of prowess
on both sides. The Indians however, for want of defensive
armor, fought on unequal terms, and were most of them cut
down. The Cacique called out to the survivors to surrender.
The latter, having done all that good soldiers could do, and
seeing all their warlike efforts in vain, threw themselves on
their knees before the Governor and offered up their own
lives, but entreated him to spare the life of their Cacique.
"De Soto was moved by their valor and their loyalty;
receiving them with kindness, he assured them of his pardon
for the past, and that henceforth he would consider them as
friends. Capafi, not being able to walk, was borne in the
arms of his attendants to kiss the hands of the Governor,
who, well pleased to have him in his power, treated him with
urbanity and kindness."
Severe as had been the conflict, De Soto returned to Anhayea with his
captive, highly gratified by the result of his enterprise. He had
strictly enjoined it upon his troops not to be guilty of any act of
wanton violence. On the march he had very carefully refrained from any
ravaging of the country. He now hoped that, the chief being in his
power and being treated with the utmost kindness, all hostilities
would cease. But, much to his disappointment, the warriors of Capafi,
released from the care of their chief, devoted themselves anew to the
harassment of the Spaniards in every possible way.
Capafi seemed much grieved by this their conduct, assuming to be
entirely reconciled to his conqueror. He informed De Soto that his
prominent warriors, who directed the campaign, had established their
headquarters in a dense forest about thirty miles from Anhayea. He
said that it would be of no avail for him to send messengers to them,
for they would believe that the messages were only such as De Soto
compelled their chief to utter. He however offered to go himself to
the camp of his warriors, accompanied by such a guard of Spanish
troops as De Soto might deem it best to send with him. He expressed
the assurance, that he should be enabled to induce his warriors to
throw down their arms.
De Soto accepted the proposition. In the early morning a strong escort
of infantry and cavalry left the village to conduct the chief to the
encampment of the natives. Skillful guides accompanied them, so that
they reached the vicinity of the encampment just as the sun was going
down. The chief sent forward scouts immediately, to inform his friends
of his approach. The Spaniards, weary of their long day's march, and
convinced of the impossibility of the escape of the chief, who could
scarcely walk a step, were very remiss in watchfulness. Though they
established sentinels and a guard, in accordance with military usage,
it would seem that they all alike fell asleep. It is probable that the
wily chief had sent confidential communications to his warriors
through his scouts.
The Spaniards were encamped in the glooms of the forest. At midnight,
when darkness, silence and solitude reigned, Capafi stealthily crept
on his hands and knees, a few rods from his sleeping guard, into the
thicket, where a band of Indian runners met him with a litter and bore
him rapidly away beyond all chance of successful pursuit. The
Spaniards never caught glimpse of their lost captive again. When they
awoke their chagrin and dread of punishment were extreme. The
sentinels, who had been appointed to watch the captive, solemnly
averred, in excuse for their neglect, that during the night demoniac
spirits had appeared, and had borne away the unwieldy chief through
the air.
As all the band were implicated in the escape, all were alike ready to
aver that, during the night, they had witnessed very strange sights
and heard very strange sounds. When they carried back this report, the
good-natured De Soto, convinced that fretting and fault-finding would
do no good, appeased their alarm by saying, with a peculiar smile:
"It is not strange. These Indian wizards perform feats far more
difficult than conjuring away a fat chief."
The winter passed slowly away. The natives were a very ferocious race;
tall, strong, athletic, and delighting in war. Every day and every
hour brought alarm and battle. The Indians conducted a harassing and
destructive warfare. In small bands they roamed through the forest,
cutting off any who ventured to wander from the town. It required a
large amount of food to supply the wants of the army in Anhayea. Not a
native carried any provisions to the town, and it was necessary for De
Soto to send out foraging expeditions, at whatever risk. The winter
was cold. Fires were needed for warmth and cooking. But the sound of
an axe could not be heard in the forest, without drawing upon the
wood-cutters, a swarm of foes. De Soto found himself in what is called
a false position; so that he deemed it necessary to resort to cruel
and apparently unjustifiable expedients.
He took a large number of Indian captives. These he compelled to be
his hewers of wood and drawers of water. He would send a party of
Spaniards into the forests for fuel. Each man led an Indian as a
servant to operate in the double capacity of a shield against the
arrows of the natives, and a slave to collect and bring back the
burden. To prevent the escape of these Indians, each one was led by a
chain, fastened around his neck or waist. Sometimes these natives
would make the most desperate efforts to escape; by a sudden twitch
upon the chain they would endeavor to pull it from the hands of their
guard, or to throw him down and, seizing any club within their reach,
would spring upon him with the ferocity of a tiger.
In various ways more than twenty Spaniards lost their lives, and many
more were seriously wounded. It was indeed a melancholy winter for the
army of De Soto. Their supplies were so far expended that it was
needful for them to await the arrival of their vessels in the Bay of
St. Marks. It will also be remembered, that De Soto had sent back an
expedition to cut its way for a distance of three hundred miles
through hostile nations to Ucita, and to summon the garrison there, to
set out on a march to join him at Anhayea. Five months were thus spent
in weary waiting.
It is estimated that De Soto's force in Anhayea, including the
captives who were servants or slaves, amounted to about fifteen
hundred persons. He had also over three hundred horses. The fertility
of the region was however such, with its extended fields of corn,
beans, pumpkins and other vegetables, that it was not necessary to
send foraging parties to a distance of more than four or five miles
from the village. On the 29th of December, 1539, the two brigantines,
which had sailed from Tampa Bay, came into St. Marks, then called the
Bay of Aute. For twelve days before the arrival of the ships, De Soto
had kept companies of horse and foot marching and countermarching
between Anhayea and the Bay, to keep the communication open. They also
placed banners on the highest trees, as signals to point out the place
of anchorage.
Juan De Anasco, who had command of the vessels, left them well manned
in the bay, and with the remainder of the ship's company marched to
Anhayea, under escort of the troops sent him by De Soto.
Soon after this, Pedro Calderon arrived with his gallant little band
of a hundred and twenty men. By a series of the wildest adventures and
most heroic achievements they had cut their way through a wilderness
thronging with foes, where an army of eight hundred men had with
difficulty effected a passage. Fighting every step of the way and
bearing along with them their wounded, their progress was necessarily
slow. Several of their number were killed and many wounded. Of the
wounded, twelve died soon after they reached Anhayea.
Their arrival in the village was a cause of great gratification to all
there. De Soto received them as an affectionate father welcomes his
son whom he had supposed to have been lost. The rumor had reached the
Governor that all had been slain on the road.
Captain Calderon brought a letter to De Soto, from his wife Isabella.
We find the following interesting extract from this letter in the
life of De Soto by Mr. Lambert A. Wilmer. It seems to bear internal
evidence of authenticity, though we know not the source from which Mr.
Wilmer obtained it. The spirit of the letter is in entire accord with
the noble character which Mr. Washington Irving gives Isabella, in his
life of Columbus and his companions.
"I have lately had some conversation with Las Casas, the
Bishop of Chiapa. He has convinced me that the behavior of
our people to the Indians is inexcusable in the sight of
God, however it may be overlooked by men in high authority.
The Bishop has proved to me that all who have taken part in
the abuse of these harmless people, have been visited in
this life with the manifest displeasure of heaven; and God
grant that they may not be punished in the life to come
according to the measure of their offense.
"I hope, my dearest husband that no considerations of
worldly advantage will make you neglectful of the precepts
of humanity and of the duties of religion. Be persuaded to
return to me at once; for you can gain nothing in Florida
which can repay me for the sorrow and anxiety I feel in your
absence. Nor for all the riches of the country would I have
you commit one act the remembrance of which would be painful
to you hereafter. If you have gained nothing I shall be
better satisfied, because there may be the less cause for
repentance. Whatever may have been your want of success or
your losses, I implore you to come to me without delay; for
any reverse of fortune is far better than the suspense and
misery I now endure."
This letter must have caused De Soto great perplexity. But for reasons
which we have above given he could not make up his mind to abandon the
enterprise, and return to Cuba an unsuccessful and impoverished man.
De Soto now ordered the two vessels under Diego Maldonado to explore
the coast to the westward, carefully examining every river and bay. It
would seem also probable that at the same time he fitted out an
expedition of fifty foot soldiers, to march along the coast on a tour
of discovery. Maldonado, after a sail of about two hundred miles,
entered the beautiful bay of Pensacola, then called Archusi. It was an
admirable harbor, and with shores so steep and bold that ships could
ride in safety almost within cable length of the land. No Spaniards
had previously visited that region, consequently the natives were
friendly. They came freely on board, bringing fruits and vegetables,
and inviting the strangers to the hospitality of their homes.
Maldonado was allowed without molestation to explore the bay in all
directions, taking careful soundings. The vessels returned to the bay
of Aute, after an absence of but eight weeks. De Soto was highly
gratified with the results of the expedition. It seemed to him that
the shores of the bay of Pensacola presented just the position he
desired for the location of his colony. He had thus far failed, in his
search for gold, but it seemed to him still possible that he might lay
the foundation of a populous and powerful empire.
It was now the latter part of February, and an almost vertical sun was
throwing down its rays upon them. Maldonado was dispatched with the
brigantines to Havana, to return with a supply of clothing, ammunition
and such other freight as was needful for the army in its isolated
condition. He received orders to be back in the bay of Pensacola, by
the first of October. In the mean time De Soto with his army was to
make a long circuit through the country, in search of gold. De Soto
had received information of a distant province called Cofachiqui,
which was governed by a queen, young and beautiful. It was said that
this nation was quite supreme over the adjacent provinces, from which
it received tribute and feudal homage.
Two lads but sixteen years of age had come to Anhayea, from this
province in company with some Indian traders. So far as they could
make themselves understood, though very unskilful interpreters, they
represented the country as abounding in silver, gold and precious
stones. In pantomime they described the process of mining and smelting
the precious metals so accurately that experienced miners were
convinced that they must have witnessed those operations.
In the month of March, 1540, De Soto left his comfortable quarters,
and commenced his march for that province, in a northeasterly
direction. Their path led first through an almost unpeopled wilderness
many leagues in extent. Each soldier bore his frugal supper or food
upon his back. It consisted mainly of roasted corn pounded or ground
into meal.
An unobstructed but weary tramp of three days brought them through
this desert region to a very singular village, called Capachiqui. In
the midst of a vast morass, there was an island of elevated and dry
ground. Here quite a populous village was erected, which commanded a
wide spread view of the flat surrounding region. The village could
only be approached by several causeways crossing the marsh, about
three hundred feet in length. The country beyond was fertile and
sprinkled with small hamlets. Eight hundred armed warriors, on the
open plain, presented a force which the most valiant Indians would
not venture to assail. The Spaniards entered the village by these
causeways unopposed, and found there a not inhospitable reception.
The day after their arrival, seven of De Soto's body-guard,
thoughtless and rollicking young men, set out, without authority from
their superior officers, to seek amusement in the neighboring hamlets.
They had scarcely reached the main land, beyond the marsh, when the
Indians, from an ambush, rushed upon them, and after a very fierce
struggle all but one were slain, and that one, Aguilar, was mortally
wounded. The soldiers in the village hastened to the relief of their
comrades, but they were too late. Aguilar, in a dying condition, was
carried back to the encampment. He had, however, sufficient strength
left to make the following extraordinary statement:
"You must know that a band of more than fifty savages sprang out of
the thickets to attack us. The moment, however, they saw that we were
but seven, and without our horses, seven warriors stepped forth, and
the rest retired to some distance. They began the attack, and as we
had neither arquebus nor cross-bow, we were entirely at their mercy.
Being more agile, and fleet of foot than our men, they leaped around
us like so many devils, with horrid laughter, shooting us down like
wild beasts without our being able to close with them. My poor
comrades fell one after the other, and the savages seeing me alone,
all seven rushed upon me, and with their bows battered me as you have
witnessed."
This singular event took place within the territory of Appalachee. It
is said that the Spaniards not unfrequently met with similar
instances, in which the natives disdained to avail themselves of
superior numbers.