_Vagrant Wanderings._
Trickery of Casquin.--The March to Capaha.--The Battle and
its Results.--Friendly Relations with Capaha.--The Return
Journey.--The Marsh Southward.--Salt Springs.--The Savages
of Tula.--Their Ferocity.--Anecdote.--Despondency of De
Soto.
It is painful to recall the mind from these peaceful, joy-giving,
humanizing scenes of religion, to barbaric war--its crime, carnage,
and misery. It is an affecting comment upon the fall of man, that far
away in this wilderness, among these tribes that might so have blessed
and cheered each other by fraternal love, war seems to have been the
normal condition. After a residence of nine days in this village,
beneath truly sunny skies, in the enjoyment of abundance, and cheered
by fruits, flowers, and bird-songs, the Spanish army again commenced
its march in the wild and apparently senseless search for gold.
The Cacique, Casquin, was about fifty years of age. He begged
permission to accompany De Soto to the next province, with his whole
army in its best military array, and with a numerous band of
attendants to carry provisions and to gather wood and fodder for the
encampments. De Soto cheerfully accepted this friendly offer. But he
soon found that it was hatred, not love, which was the impelling
motive; that the chief was incited by a desire to make war, not to
cultivate peace. The chief of the next province was a redoubtable
warrior named Capaha. His territories were extensive; his subjects
numerous and martial. Time out of mind there had been warfare between
these two provinces, the subjects of each hating each other
implacably.
Capaha had in recent conflicts been quite the victor, and Casquin
thought this a good opportunity, with the Spaniards for his powerful
allies, to take signal vengeance upon his foe. Of this De Soto, at the
time, knew nothing.
The army commenced its march. There were five thousand native warriors
who accompanied him, plumed, painted, and armed in the highest style
of savage art. There were three thousand attendants, who bore the
supplies, and who were also armed with bows and arrows. Casquin, with
his troops, took the lead; wishing, as he said, to clear the road of
any obstructions, to drive off any lurking foes, and to prepare at
night the ground for the comfortable encampment of the Spaniards. His
troops were in a good state of military discipline, and marched in
well organized array about a mile and a half in advance of the
Spaniards.
Thus they travelled for three uneventful days, until they reached an
immense swamp, extending back unknown miles from the Mississippi. This
was the frontier line which bordered the hostile provinces of Casquin
and Capaha. Crossing it with much difficulty, they encamped upon a
beautiful prairie upon the northern side. A journey of two days
through a sparsely inhabited country brought them to the more fertile
and populous region of the new province. Here they found the capital
of the Cacique. It was a well fortified town of about five hundred
large houses, situated upon elevated land, which commanded an
extensive view of the country around. One portion of the town was
protected by a deep ditch, one hundred and fifty feet broad. The
higher portion was defended by a strong palisade. The ditch, or canal,
connected with the Mississippi river, which was nine miles distant.
Capaha, hearing suddenly of the arrival of so formidable a force, fled
down the canal in a curve, to an island in the river, where he
summoned his warriors to meet him as speedily as possible. Casquin,
marching as usual a mile and a half in advance, finding the town
unprotected, and almost abandoned, entered and immediately commenced
all the ravages of savage warfare. One hundred men, women and
children, caught in the place, were immediately seized, the men killed
and scalped, the women and boys made captives. To gratify their
vengeance, they broke into the mausoleum, held so sacred by the
Indians, where the remains of all the great men of the tribe had been
deposited. They broke open the coffins, scattered the remains over the
floor and trampled them beneath their feet.
It is said that Casquin, would have set fire to the mausoleum, and
laid it and the whole village in ashes, but that he feared that he
might thus incur the anger of De Soto. When the Governor arrived and
saw what ravages had been committed by those who had come as his
companions, friends and allies, he was greatly distressed. Immediately
he sent envoys to Capaha on the island, assuring him of his regret in
view of the outrages; that neither he, nor his soldiers, had in the
slightest degree participated in them, and that he sought only
friendly relations with the Cacique.
Capaha, who was a proud warrior, and who had retired but for a little
time that he might marshal his armies to take vengeance on the
invaders, returned an indignant and defiant answer; declaring that he
sought no peace; but that he would wage war to the last extremity.
Again De Soto found himself in what may be called a false position.
The chief Capaha and his people were exasperated against him in the
highest degree. The nation was one of the most numerous and powerful
on the Mississippi. Should the eight thousand allies, who had
accompanied him from Kaska, and who had plunged him into these
difficulties, withdraw, he would be left entirely at the mercy of
these fierce warriors. From ten to twenty thousand might rush upon his
little band, now numbering but about four hundred, and their utter
extermination could hardly be doubtful. Under these circumstances he
decided to attempt to conquer a peace. Still he made other efforts,
but in vain, to conciliate the justly enraged chieftain. He then
prepared for war. However severely he may be censured for this
decision, it is the duty of the impartial historian to state those
facts which may in some degree modify the severity of judgment.
A large number of canoes were prepared, in which two hundred Spaniards
and three thousand Indians embarked to attack Capaha upon his island,
before he had time to collect a resistless force of warriors. They
found the island covered with a dense forest, and the chief and his
troops strongly intrenched. The battle was fought with great fury, the
Spanish soldiers performing marvellous feats of bravery, strength and
endurance. The warriors of Capaha, who fought with courage equal to
that of the Spaniards, and struck such dismay into the more timid
troops of Casquin, that they abandoned their allies and fled
tumultuously to their canoes, and swiftly paddled away.
De Soto, thus left to bear the whole brunt of the hostile army, was
also compelled to retreat. He did this in good order, and might have
suffered terribly in the retreat but for the singular and, at the
time, unaccountable fact that Capaha withdrew his warriors and allowed
the Spaniards to embark unmolested. It would seem that the sagacious
chieftain, impressed by the wonderful martial prowess displayed by the
Spaniards, and by the reiterated proffers of peace and friendship
which had been made to him, and despising the pusillanimity of the
troops of Casquin, whom he had always been in the habit of conquering,
thought that by detaching the Spaniards from them he could convert De
Soto and his band into friends and allies. Then he could fall upon the
Indian army, and glut his vengeance, by repaying them tenfold for all
the outrages they had committed.
Accordingly, the next morning, four ambassadors of highest rank
visited the Spanish encampment. De Soto and Casquin were together. The
ambassadors bowed to De Soto with profound reverence, but
disdainfully took no notice whatever of Casquin. The speaker then
said,--
"We have come, in the name of our chief, to implore the oblivion of
the past and to offer to you his friendship and homage."
De Soto was greatly relieved by the prospect of this termination of
the difficulties in which he had found himself involved. He treated
the envoys with great affability, reciprocated all their friendly
utterances, and they returned to Capaha highly pleased with their
reception.
Casquin was very indignant. He did everything in his power to excite
the hostility of De Soto against Capaha, but all was in vain. The
Governor was highly displeased with the trick Casquin had played upon
him, in setting out on a military expedition under the guise of an
honorary escort. He despised the cowardice which Casquin's troops had
evinced in the battle, and he respected the courage which Capaha had
exhibited, and the frankness and magnanimity of his conduct. He
therefore issued orders to his own and the native army that no one
should inflict any injury whatever, either upon the persons or the
property of the natives of the province. He allowed Casquin to remain
in his camp and under his protection for a few days, but compelled
him to send immediately home the whole body of his followers,
retaining merely enough vassals for his personal service.
The next morning Capaha himself, accompanied by a train of one hundred
of his warriors, fearlessly returned to his village. He must have had
great confidence in the integrity of De Soto, for by this act he
placed himself quite in the power of the Spaniards. Immediately upon
entering the village, he visited the desecrated mausoleum of his
ancestors, and in silent indignation repaired, as far as possible, the
injury which had been done. He then proceeded to the headquarters of
De Soto. The Spanish Governor and Casquin were seated together.
Capaha was about twenty-six years of age, of very fine person and of
frank and winning manners. With great cordiality he approached De
Soto, reiterating his proffers of friendship, and his earnest desire
that kindly feelings should be cherished between them. Casquin he
treated with utter disdain, paying no more attention to him than if he
had not been present. For some time the Indian Cacique and the Spanish
Governor conversed together with perfect frankness and cordiality. A
slight pause occurring in their discourse, Capaha fixed his eyes
sternly for a moment upon Casquin and said, in tones of strong
indignation,--
"You, Casquin, undoubtedly exult in the thought that you have revenged
your past defeats. This you never could have done through your own
strength. You are indebted to these strangers for what you have
accomplished. Soon they will go on their way. But we shall be left in
this country as we were before. We shall then meet again. Pray to the
gods that they may send us good weather."
De Soto humanely did everything in his power to promote reconciliation
between the hostile chieftains. But all was in vain. Though they
treated each other with civility, he observed frequent interchanges of
angry glances.
The Spaniards found, in this town, a great variety of valuable skins
of deer, panthers, buffalo and bears. Taught by the Indians, the
Spaniards made themselves very comfortable moccasons of deerskin, and
also strong bucklers, impervious to arrows, of buffalo hide.
After making minute and anxious inquiries for gold, and ascertaining
that there was none to be found in that direction, De Soto turned his
desponding steps backwards to Kaska. Here he remained for four days,
preparing for a march to the southward. He then continued his progress
nine days down the western bank of the river, until, on the fourth of
August, he reached a province called Quigate. His path had led him
through a populous country, but the Indians made no attempt to molest
his movements. It is supposed that Quigate must have been on the White
river, about forty or fifty miles from its mouth. Here De Soto learned
that, faraway in the northwest there was a range of mountains, and
there he thought might perhaps be the gold region of which he had so
long been in search.
Immediately he put his soldiers in motion, led by a hope which was
probably rejected by every mind in the army, except his own. A single
Indian guide led them on a weary tramp for many days, through dreary
morasses and tangled forests. They at length came to a village called
Coligoa, which is supposed to have been upon the banks of White river.
The natives at first fled in terror at their approach, but as no
hostility was manifested by the Spaniards, they soon gained
confidence, and returned with kind words and presents. But there was
no gold there, and no visions of gold in the distance.
The chief informed De Soto that there was a very rich and populous
province about thirty miles to the south, where the inhabitants were
in the enjoyment of a great abundance of the good things of life.
Again the Spaniards took up their line of march in that direction.
They found a fertile and quite thickly inhabited country on their
route. The Indians were friendly, and seemed to have attained a
degree of civilization superior to that of most of the tribes they had
as yet visited. The walls of the better class of houses were hung with
deerskins, so softly tanned and colored that they resembled beautiful
tapestry. The floors were also neatly carpeted with richly decorated
skins.
The Spaniards seem to have travelled very slowly, for nine days were
occupied in reaching Tanico, in the Cayas country, which was situated
probably upon Saline river, a branch of the Washita. Here they found
some salt springs, and remained several days to obtain a supply of
salt, of which they were greatly in need. Turning their steps towards
the west, still groping blindly, hunting for gold, they journeyed four
days through a barren and uninhabited region, when suddenly they
emerged upon a wide and blooming prairie.
In the centre, at the distance of about a couple of miles, between two
pleasant streams, they saw quite a large village. It was mid-day, and
the Governor encamped his army in the edge of the grove, on the
borders of the plain. In the afternoon, with a strong party of horse
and foot, he set out upon a reconnoitering excursion. As he approached
the village the inhabitants, men and women, sallied forth and attacked
him with great ferocity. De Soto was not a man ever to turn his back
upon his assailants. The Spaniards drew their sabres, and, all being
in armor, and led by charges of the horsemen, soon put the tumultuous
savages to flight, and pursued them pell-mell into the village.
The natives fought like tigers from doors, windows, and housetops. The
exasperated Spaniards, smarting with their wounds, and seeing many of
their comrades already slain, cut down their foes remorselessly. The
women fell before their blows as well as the men, for the women fought
with unrelenting fierceness which the Spaniards had never seen
surpassed. Night came on while the battle still raged, with no
prospect of its termination. De Soto withdrew his troops from the
village, much vexed at having allowed himself to be drawn into so
useless a conflict, where there was nothing to be gained, and where he
had lost several valuable men in killed, while many more were wounded.
The next morning De Soto put his whole army in motion and advanced
upon the village. They found it utterly abandoned. Strong parties were
sent out in all directions to capture some of the natives, that De
Soto might endeavor to enter into friendly relations with them. But it
seemed impossible to take any one alive. They were as untamable and as
savage as bears and wolves, fighting against any odds to the last
gasp. Both women and men were exceedingly ill-looking, with shapeless
heads, which were said to have been deformed by the compression of
bandages in infancy. The province was called Tula, and the village was
situated, it is supposed, between the waters of the upper Washita and
the little Missouri.
The Spaniards remained in the village four days, when suddenly, in the
darkness of midnight, the war-whoop resounded from three different
directions, and three large bands of native warriors, who had so
stealthily approached as to elude the vigilance of the sentinels,
plunged into the village in a simultaneous attack. Egyptian darkness
enveloped the combatants, and great was the confusion, for it was
almost impossible to distinguish friend from foe. The Spaniards, to
avoid wounding each other, incessantly shouted the name of the Virgin.
The savages were armed with bows and arrows and with javelins, heavy,
sharp-pointed, and nine or ten feet in length, which could be used
either as clubs or pikes. Wielded by their sinewy arms, in a
hand-to-hand fight, the javelin proved a very formidable weapon.
The battle raged with unintermitted fury till the dawn of the morning.
The savages then, at a given signal, fled simultaneously to the woods.
The Spaniards did not pursue them. Thoroughly armored as they were,
but four of their number were killed, but many were severely wounded.
It was nearly twenty days before the wounded were so far convalescent
that the army could resume its march. The following incident
illustrates the almost unexampled ferocity of these barbaric warriors:
The morning after the battle a large number of the Spanish soldiers,
thoroughly armed, were exploring the fields around the village, on
foot and on horseback. Three foot soldiers and two mounted men were in
company. One of them saw in a thicket an Indian raise his head and
immediately conceal it. The foot soldier ran up to kill him. The
savage rose, and with a ponderous battle-axe which he had won from the
Spaniards the day before, struck the shield of the Spaniard with such
force as to cut it in two, at the same time severely wounding his arm.
The blow was so violent and the wound so severe, that the soldier was
rendered helpless. The savage then rushed upon another of the foot
soldiers, and in the same way effectually disabled him.
One of the horsemen, seeing his companions thus roughly handled, put
spurs to his steed and charged upon the Indian. The savage sprang to
the trunk of an oak tree, whose low hanging branches prevented the
near approach of the trooper. Watching his opportunity, he sprang
forth and struck the horse such a terrible blow with his axe as to
render the animal utterly incapable of moving. Just at this moment the
gallant Gonsalvo Sylvestre came up. The Indian rushed upon him,
swinging his battle-axe in both hands; but Sylvestre warded the blow
so that the axe glanced over his shield and buried its edge deeply in
the ground.
Instantly the keen sabre of Sylvestre fell upon the savage, laying
open his face and breast with a fearful gash, and so severing his
right hand from the arm that it hung only by the skin. The desperate
Indian, seizing the axe between the bleeding stump and the other hand,
attempted to strike another blow. Again Sylvestre warded off the axe
with his shield, and with one blow of his sword upon the waist of the
naked Indian so nearly cut his body in two that he fell dead at his
feet.
During the time the Spaniards tarried in Tula many foraging excursions
were sent out to various parts of the province. The region was
populous and fertile, but it was found impossible to conciliate in any
degree the hostile inhabitants.
Again the soldiers were in motion. They directed their steps towards
the northwest, towards a province named Utiangue, which was said to be
situated on the borders of a great lake, at the distance of about two
hundred and forty miles. They hoped that this lake might prove an arm
of the sea, through which they could open communications with their
friends in Cuba, and return to them by water. The journey was
melancholy in the extreme, through a desolate country occupied by
wandering bands of ferocious savages, who were constantly assailing
them from ambuscades by day and by night.
At length they reached the village of Utiangue, the capital of the
province. It was pleasantly situated on a fine plain upon the banks of
a river, which was probably the Arkansas. Upon the approach of the
Spaniards the inhabitants had abandoned the place, leaving their
granaries well stocked with corn, beans, nuts, and plums. The meadows
surrounding the town offered excellent pasturage for the horses. As
the season was far advanced, De Soto decided to take up his winter
quarters here. He fortified the place, surrounding it with strong
palisades. To lay in ample stores for the whole winter, foraging
parties were sent out, who returned laden with dried fruits, corn, and
other grain.
Deer ranged the forests in such numbers that large quantities of
venison were obtained. Rabbits also were in abundance. The Cacique,
who kept himself aloof, sent several messengers to De Soto, but they
so manifestly came merely as spies, and always in the night, that De
Soto gave orders that none should be admitted save in the daytime.
One persisting to enter was killed by a sentinel. This put an end to
all intercourse between De Soto and the chief; but the Spaniards were
assaulted whenever the natives could take any advantage of them on
their foraging expeditions.
Here the Spaniards enjoyed on the whole, the most comfortable winter
they had experienced since they entered Florida. Secure from attack in
their fortified town, sheltered from the weather in their comfortable
dwellings, and with a sufficient supply of food, they were almost
happy, as they contrasted the comforts they then enjoyed with the
frightful sufferings they had hitherto experienced. During the winter,
the expedition met with a great loss from the death of its intelligent
interpreter, Juan Ortiz. In reference to his services, Mr. Pickett
says:
"Understanding only the Floridian language, he conducted
conversations through the Indians of different tribes who
understood each other and who attended the expedition. In
conversing with the Chickasaws, for instance, he commenced
with the Floridian, who carried the word to a Georgian, the
Georgian to the Coosa, the Coosa to the Mobilian, and the
latter to the Chickasaw. In the same tedious manner the reply
was conveyed to him and reported to De Soto."
During the winter at Utiangue, the views and feelings of the Governor
apparently experienced quite a change. His hopes of finding gold seem
all to have vanished. He was far away in unknown wilds, having lost
half his troops and nearly all his horses. The few horses that
remained, were many of them lame, not having been shod for more than a
year. He did not hesitate to confess, confidentially to his friends,
his regret that he had not joined the ships at Pensacola. He now
despairingly decided to abandon these weary and ruinous wanderings,
and to return to the Mississippi river. Here he would establish a
fortified colony, build a couple of brigantines, send them to Cuba
with tidings of safety to his wife, and procure reinforcements and
supplies. It seems that his pride would not allow him to return
himself a ruined man to his friends.
With the early spring he broke up his cantonment, and commenced a
rapid march for the Mississippi. He had heard of a village called
Anilco, at the mouth of a large stream emptying into that majestic
river. They followed down the south side of the Arkansas river for ten
days, when they crossed on rafts to the north or east side. It was
probably the intention of De Soto to reach the Mississippi nearly at
the point at which they had crossed it before.
Continuing his journey through morasses and miry grounds, where the
horses often waded up to their girths in water, where there were few
inhabitants, and little food to be obtained, he at length reached the
village of Anilco, and found it to be on the northern bank of the
Arkansas river. Here he learned that, at the distance of some leagues
to the south, there was a populous and fertile country such as he
thought would be suitable for the establishment of his colony. Again
he crossed the Arkansas river to the south side, and moving in a
southerly direction reached the Mississippi at a village called
Guachoya, about twenty miles below the mouth of the Arkansas river.