affected, favorably concerning the Indian, but unfavorably respecting
himself and his men. This advanced condition of the Indian suggested to
him a problem which he had not anticipated, for he was now to deal with a
class of people not before met, and for which he had not planned. This was
accompanied by a suspicion, inseparable from Spanish character, that these
manifestations of embassies meant for him a trap, and by this he was
controlled ever afterward, much to his disadvantage, as we shall see.
He was now within the dominion of the chief of Coosa, a great monarch in
these far interior wilds. His dominion was vast, his people loyal and
brave, thrifty and numerous. His capital city was Coosa, and to DeSoto the
chief sent an embassy of welcome, which was coldly greeted by the
suspicious Spaniard. When DeSoto came near the capital, he was met by the
Indian monarch himself, attended by a thousand painted warriors, stalwart,
tall, erect, lithe, and dignified of movement. They walked the earth like
princes. Around a band about the head of each, were nodding plumes of
varicolored feathers. With lofty port and evident pride, they escorted
their chief into the presence of the Spanish invader. The chief himself
was a fellow of commanding build, and as he sat erect on a rude chair
borne on the shoulders of four brawny braves, he was not unconscious of
his consequence as a great ruler.
The Spanish were astonished by a scene so splendid in these sylvan
retreats. To them it was a spectacle of wonder. About the wide shoulders
of the mighty chief was a mantle of martin skins, soft and glossy, which
fell in graceful folds about his huge form, while his head was adorned
with a coronal of brilliant plumage. His immense escort of painted
attendants lifted their voices in Indian melody, accompanied by piping on
their cane flutes.
The two bands of Indians and of Spaniards were brought front to front,
each silently scanning the other curiously, each magnificent in its own
way. Each was equally a revelation to the other--the plumed and half-naked
savages, with faces hideous with divers paints, bearing bows, arrows and
wooden clubs, and the steel-clad warriors of ancient Spain with metal
armor, and mounted on animals never before seen by the Indians. Through
Jean Ortiz, an interpreter, the ceremony was conducted. Speeches were
exchanged, after which DeSoto was escorted with much pomp to the quarters
prepared for his entertainment.
Haunted by a dark suspicion, DeSoto kept the chief near him and retained
him as a sort of hostage near his quarters. While the Indian is
revengeful, he is kind even unto death, when a friend. The chief had
exhausted his ingenuity in providing entertainment for his distinguished
guest, and that guest now requited that kindness by placing the chief
under arrest. The man of the woods showed deeply and keenly the
humiliation felt, but the supercilious Spaniard cared not for that. The
untutored warriors were enraged by the untimely treatment of their chief
and gathered in knots and groups about the settlement with a low hum of
murmur. Their savage blood waxed hot, and they began to foment mischief.
DeSoto cared nothing for savage amenity and hospitality, and was concerned
alone for his own safety. Gratitude is not an element in the Spanish
character, and DeSoto had not crossed the seas to indulge in diplomatic
palaver, but had come in search of the yellow gold.
Stung by revenge, the Indian warriors by thousands slid away to the woods
by different ways, to plan for the extinction of the invading host, the
intruder, the ingrate. Apprised of their movement, DeSoto summoned his
forces and sent them in pursuit, and scattered the warriors before they
could assemble, and by concerted action attack him. A large number of them
were made prisoners, both of men and women, whom DeSoto handcuffed, put
iron collars about their necks and loaded them with chains. All this was
done openly in their own capital city. Around his headquarters sat in
groups the meek-eyed prisoners, while near the house provided for the
entertainment of the Spaniard sat their revered chief, himself a prisoner.
The chief, the wiser of the two, pleaded that, whatever was meted out to
him, his people be not thus so cruelly served. In response DeSoto
sufficiently relented to release some of the prisoners, while he retained
others, and when at last he took his leave he forced them to become
burden-bearers of his camp equipage.
Still anxious to afford assurance of his sincerity, the imprisoned chief
sought repeatedly to avow it afresh, but it fell on the leaden ears of the
heartless Spaniard. Engaging DeSoto in conversation, the chief even went
so far as to offer a vast domain of land to the Spaniard for the founding
of a Spanish colony, and proposed to allow him to select it himself. At
this DeSoto only laughed, and told his entertainer that it was not land
that he sought, but gold. Well had DeSoto learned the lesson given by the
atrocious Pizarro in Peru, with whom he was, during that notorious
invasion far to the south.
DeSoto was in no haste to quit the Coosa capital, and with lavish hand he
fed his horses, cows, and hogs on the housed corn and provender of the
savages, while his men were refreshed by a long-needed rest. When he at
last took his departure, he left with the Indians some of his most
undesired cattle and swine, besides a negro slave, who had fallen sick,
and was unable to travel. The Indians were delighted to retain the
African, as they were greatly impressed by his thick, heavy lips, his
black skin, and his woolly hair. Long afterward it was noted that the
Indians in that quarter were of a darker hue than were the neighboring
tribes, which was attributed to the remote ancestry of this son of Ham.
After lingering for a full month in the Indian capital, DeSoto took his
leave, but not without crowning his cruelty by taking with him the proud
young chief as a prisoner of war. The most that can be said in extenuation
of this infamy is that he treated him with kindness. Realizing that it was
futile and perhaps perilous to protest, the chief bore the indignity with
becoming calmness, showing that of the two men, he was the superior.
Though kindly treated, the chief was closely watched and guarded, lest he
might escape and produce havoc. Taking up his line of march, DeSoto still
moved toward the south.
TUSKALOOSA, CHIEF OF THE MOBILIANS
As had before occurred, couriers preceded DeSoto, warning the Indians of
other settlements and tribes of his coming. Numerous Indian towns were
passed by the Spaniards as they wended their way, following the wide and
well-beaten paths of the Indians as they threaded the primeval forests.
The Spaniards were cautious and wary, and kept a sharp outlook for lurking
danger. They would invariably pitch their camps at night on the outskirts
of an Indian village, and at times, well within its limits. If an attack
or misfortune should come, there was an evident advantage of close
proximity to supplies. The Spaniard was suspicious, the Indian
distrustful.
Much after the fashion of the ancient cities of Europe and of the farther
east, some of the larger towns of the Indians were surrounded by massive
walls. Timbers hard and heavy, of cured oak and hickory, sometimes sunk
deep into the earth and standing upright, at others lying horizontally,
but in each instance strong and compact, made the walls most formidable to
attack. Along the summits of these ramparts, high and rude, were watch
towers or lookouts, warily sentineled. There was evident the sense of
geometric order, skilled workmanship, and resistfulness to attack from
without, all of which served to heighten the wonder of the Spaniard, if
indeed it did not deepen his solicitude.
The Tallapoosa River was reached--a stream flanked by dense woods and
penetrating soils of blackness and of a dingy red. DeSoto was greatly
impressed by the savage skill shown in the location of a fortified town in
a graceful curve of the river. Tallassee, for that was the name of the
town, had a double protection in the river which coiled about it, and in
the wall which more immediately encircled it. From the nature of the
fortifications, the Indians evidently regarded Tallassee one of their
strong and strategic points. In the regions adjacent, lining the fertile
banks of the river, were fields of corn with heavy ears almost
sufficiently ripe for the harvester. This was in 1540, some time after
which this beautiful and prosperous Indian region was invaded by tribes of
Indians from Mexico, who, with tomahawk and fire, laid waste the country,
burning the towns, and reducing to slavery such of the native tribes as
were not slain. In point of Indian relics, no part of the country is rarer
and richer than this. Numerous relics have here been found for the
enrichment of depositories, and a few years ago a peculiar implement of
antiquated warfare was plowed up in this region. The metal implement suits
the description of the cannon in use at the time of the DeSoto invasion.
It represents the type of ordnance known in those days as the "drag," the
heavier pieces of which were suspended by chains, from an axle between two
wheels, when movable, or between two fixed objects, when used for
stationary service. They were sometimes sufficiently light to be held off
from the person, in the palm of the hand, when used for firing. This last
description suits that of the implement found in the Tallapoosa region. It
may be seen among the interesting collections so industriously made by
Dr. Thomas M. Owen, the able and efficient director of the Alabama state
department of archives and history, in the capitol at Montgomery. When the
railroad was building between West Point and Montgomery, there was dug up
in the region of the Tallapoosa River, a necklace of rare beads, such as
were worn by chiefs and princesses in the primitive days.
At Tallassee, whither had come the terrible news of the approaching
Spaniards, such of the Indians as did not betake themselves to the forts
met DeSoto with slight and cool civility. In order to rest his force, the
Spaniard halted here for twenty days, during which time men and stock were
recuperated and the stores of the commander replenished. It was here that
DeSoto was visited by a sprightly young brave of splendid physical mold,
gaudily attired, excessively polite, and making much show of primitive
diplomacy, who invited the Spaniard to the dominion and capital of
Tuskaloosa, a powerful chief, the territory of whom began about thirty
miles south of Tallassee and extended westward to the banks of the
Tombeckbe.
DeSoto was notified that Tuskaloosa was in person awaiting him near the
northern confine of his dominion, and was ready to accord a welcome alike
befitting the great monarch, and the brave Spanish commander. To all of
this and much more, DeSoto listened with imperturbable mood, meanwhile
according due respect to the punctilious young diplomat, who, when he
signified his purpose to return, the Spaniard sent a message of grateful
acknowledgment to the chief, not unattended with gifts. With this the
incident closed, but it had a bloody sequel.
On quitting Tallassee, and before crossing the river on his southward
march, DeSoto released the chief of the Coosa and sent him back to his
people a bearer of gifts. The chief had served DeSoto's purpose, and, now
that no danger could come of him, he was dismissed. The valuable gifts in
part atoned for the perfidy of his retention in captivity.
Up to this time the Spaniards had had much their own way. Everything that
disputed their progress had been swept aside as so many cobwebs. With
genuine Castilian arrogance, mixed with cruelty, they had marched the land
through with the air of masters, but their brightest days were now behind
them. The future had in store for them abounding trouble and misfortune,
to grapple with which would tax them to the utmost. Gold, the only object
of the quest of this adventurous itinerary, had induced these young
fellows of Spain to sell their estates and enlist under the standard of
DeSoto, had not been found. Not a grain of the precious metal had been
discovered, and more, they were not destined to find any. They had been
lured by lust for gain far into the wilderness fastnesses of America, had
encountered fierce and hostile tribes, were remote from their ships, and
their condition was now a precarious one. Brave, daring and well equipped
as they were, even these advantages were not without serious limitation,
and there was little to save them from utter extinction in these deep
forest retreats.
Nor were there lacking omens of disaster which did not escape the acute
detection of the wary and wily Spaniard. Beneath the thin sheath of
diplomacy and protestations of friendship and of hospitality, there
lurked a subtle purpose to decoy these men of Spain to destruction. DeSoto
felt this in his bones. That the Coosa chief was sincere there is little
doubt, but DeSoto's treatment of him had exposed his apprehension, which,
in turn, sharpened the revenge of the Indian. The Spaniard's overwrought
precaution hastened to ripeness a conspiracy which else might have been
averted.
Coming within easy reach of the place of meeting appointed by the chief,
Tuskaloosa, DeSoto dispatched his camp master, Moscoso, in advance with
fifteen picked horsemen, clad in imposing attire, ostensibly to negotiate,
but really to impress. Ostensibly Moscoso was to ascertain the wishes of
the chief concerning the nature of the formalities at the approaching
meeting. Moscoso found the proud monarch of the wilderness seated on two
beautiful cushions, placed on a rare and curiously wrought mat. He was
stationed on a lofty eminence which commanded, in all directions, a view
of imposing natural grandeur. Around him stood, in large numbers,
half-naked warriors, with bodies smeared with paint of different colors.
Above the chief they held a canopy formed of deerskins, and supported at
each end with slanting staves. The canopy was rudely ornamented on the
upper side with parallel lines of varied color. While this was used as an
improvised protection from the sun, it was really a banner of war. The
chief was a fine specimen of the physical man, large, strong, sinewy,
erect, and heavy limbed. He looked the savage sovereign to perfection. His
manner was consequential, but dignified. Anxious to impress the haughty
chief with the importance, and especially with the prowess, of the coming
Spaniards, Moscoso and his band pranced their proud steeds before him.
With necks arched, eyes dilated and nostrils thin, the horses reared and
plunged, while the practiced cavalrymen would perform feats of acrobatic
horsemanship. With visage unmoved, the chief quietly gazed on without
demonstration.
Later, dashed up DeSoto with the entire troop, hoping to produce an
impression of awe, if not of terror, but the stolid chief remained as
austere as ever. If DeSoto would impress Tuskaloosa with his importance,
Tuskaloosa was just as intent on impressing DeSoto with his profound
greatness. It was throughout a dramatic game of diplomacy, at which each
sought to play with more effect. The reception was short, the speeches
brief and cautious. The savage spoke with haughty reserve, as though
compelled by courtly form. DeSoto, though speaking briefly, was
extravagant in praise of the chief, but especially of himself. He sought
to impress the proud Indian with the idea that, while as an Indian he
thought him peculiarly great, and in condescending magnanimity he would
accord this, still it was an honor not to be lightly esteemed by the
chief, that the Spanish commander should make any concession at all. This
event occurred just south of Line Creek, in the present county of
Montgomery.
The meeting was mutually unsatisfactory. Both chief and commander were
doubtful of the accomplished result, and both were consequently stiffened
to increased vigilance and resolution. One was suspicious, the other
treacherous. In motive, each was equally hostile. Each felt that he had
strained concession, each was bent on final success. That a juncture had
been reached that would result in a fair test of ability, each knew, and
of the issue, neither doubted. Both would plan and watch. It was a
hand-to-hand fight beneath a show of formality. Whatever the conditions,
DeSoto was determined to keep the chief near himself. After two days,
DeSoto prepared to move. With much show of politeness, he invited the
chief to ride with him. The choicest of the horses was selected, a blood
red blanket thrown over it, while there was tendered to the chief a
crimson cap, and robe of the same color, all of which fascinated
Tuskaloosa while it showed a courtesy undreamed of. For the first time,
the doughty warrior was lifted astride a charger. The spectacle was
grotesque enough--the red robed warrior on the red blanketed steed, with
his huge feet, in loose moccasins, hanging low. Out of the camp they rode
at the head of the cavalcade, DeSoto and the chief, while thronging
thousands gazed with admiring and gaping wonder. It was a ride that
preceded a bloody tragedy.
TROUBLE BREWING
Since he had gone so far in unmasking his apprehension there was now left
nothing for DeSoto to do but to accept whatever results might come. He
could not recede from the position which he had assumed without danger,
yet that he could maintain it, remained to be seen. As league on league
they rode together, DeSoto and Tuskaloosa, the Spaniard was kind, polite
and civil, chatting through an attendant interpreter with the doughty and
deluded chief, it gradually dawned on the Indian that he was trapped, but
he uttered not a word. The fact that DeSoto's objective point was the
capital of the captive chief afforded opportunity for the contrivance of
new schemes in the heart of Tuskaloosa.
Still moving in a southerly direction, through the present territory of
Montgomery and Lowndes counties, and the lower end of Dallas, the command
reached Piasche, a town built within a bend of the Alabama River.
Unfortunately for DeSoto, his supply of salt was here exhausted, from the
lack of which all suffered--both man and beast. A peculiar malady was the
result, from the effects of which a number of the troops died. Others
affected by the malady became loathsome. The deficiency of salt was in
part overcome by the use of ashes of a certain plant, for information
concerning which DeSoto was indebted to the natives.
On leaving Piasche the troops followed the Alabama River, and passed
through a portion of the present County of Wilcox. Meanwhile the chief
had become sullen and morose, as though cherishing a deeply nourished
grudge, but not once did he complain or protest against his imprisonment,
and for a time DeSoto flattered himself that the deluded chief was pleased
with the distinction of accompanying him on his tour, while the Indian
well understood the situation, but was willing to rely on the future for
redress.
By one thing was DeSoto puzzled and embarrassed--that of a number of
warriors who had followed the troops all the way from Line Creek in order
to watch the fate of their chief. They would hang on the rear of the
troop, stop when it would, and move when it moved. While not pleased with
this, DeSoto was reluctant to drive them away, as he was under the
impression that he had Tuskaloosa thoroughly infatuated with him and he
was anxious to retain the supposed hoodwink. The embarrassment was
increased when Tuskaloosa, who seemed to detect the deception into which
DeSoto had beguiled him, availed himself of the advantage thus afforded,
and asked for an occasional interview with his warriors who followed the
troop.
To decline the request would be to expose DeSoto's plan concerning
Tuskaloosa, while to grant it, was not unattended by danger. However, the
privilege was granted, with the result that Tuskaloosa was constantly
sending messengers toward his capital with dispatches, of the nature of
which DeSoto knew nothing. There was constant disagreement between the
Spanish troops and the Indian hangers-on, and danger was constantly
imminent. An outbreak finally occurred in which two Spaniards were
killed, when DeSoto raved and swore, and more than intimated to Tuskaloosa
that he was the occasion of it, and in his warmth of wrath let fall some
intimated threats of future purposes which furnished to his shrewd Indian
guest what his ultimate determination was. To all of this, Tuskaloosa
growled back that he was the keeper of the Spaniards, and the threats he
treasured up in his heart.
So grave, at last, became the suspicion of DeSoto that he sent two of his
most trusted followers in advance, to the Indian capital, to ascertain, if
possible, if there was not a conspiracy hatching against him and his men.
Following rapidly, came DeSoto himself with a hundred of his picked men.
Following him again, were a hundred foot soldiers in their best trim,
while to Moscoso was entrusted the rest with the heavy ordnance to come
more leisurely on, but to lose no time. The plan was that by the
successive arrival of troops, in detachments, to impress the Indians that
his numbers were without limit, as they should arrive in order. At no
time, however, did DeSoto leave the chief, but kept him close to his side.
The two messengers charged to ascertain the true situation at Maubila,
reported to their commander that there was evidently much discontent among
the Indians that boded no good.
Early on the morning of October, 18, 1540, DeSoto reached the Indian
capital, Maubila. Much as he had before been impressed by the skill and
workmanship of the Indians, he was surprised at the scene now presented.
Here indeed was a great Indian city, beautiful for location, and
formidable in its fortifications. Situated on a wide grassy plain through
which ran the deep rolling Alabama, was the capital of the Mobilian tribe.
The city was completely walled about with timbers of immense size,
standing perpendicularly, and made deep set in the earth, and the thick
coat of plastering made of lime mud, gave it the appearance of a wall of
stone. There were two gates in the walls which stood oppositely, and when
closed were very strong. Within, there were eighty large edifices, any one
of which would accommodate 1,000 men. The grounds were well cared for with
their carpet of natural grass. The city viewed from without, looked like
one of the ancient cities of Asia with its lookouts of sufficient size to
accommodate in each eight men. At regular intervals around the walls, but
a few feet above the ground, were portholes for bowmen.
The exact location of Maubila has given rise to much speculation, and not
a little discussion. Plausible reasons are assigned by different writers
in support of their respective views, but the preponderance of testimony
seems to favor the present site of Choctaw Bluff, in Clarke County, as the
location. In opposition to this view, however, it has been urged that its
distance toward the south is incompatible with the time given for reaching
it by the DeSoto band.
The arrival of the troops on horseback, under DeSoto, aroused terror on
the part of the Indians, who seemed to regard more the terrible horses
than the men themselves. At the head of the imposing troop rode the
haughty DeSoto in splendid uniform, his armor glittering and his gay plume
gracefully falling back of a wide brim, while beside him was the revered
chief, with his robe of red and his crimson cap, now somewhat dimmed by
rough exposure. There was a hush of consternation when first the cavalcade
rode into full view on the plain. DeSoto had intended by dramatic effect
to overawe the Indian spectators, and with this end in view he neglected
nothing. The armor of the troops was unusually bright, the men were
perfectly erect in their saddles, the horses neighed and pranced, and the
whole effect was inspiringly striking.