THE INDIANS OF FLORIDA.
The peninsula of Florida was discovered and named by a Spanish adventurer, called Ponce de Leon, who, on his second voyage, was mortally wounded in a conflict with the natives. A few years after this, a small vessel was driven on the coast by severe weather, and a traffic commenced with the natives for silver and gold. Other adventurers began to turn their attention to this supposed land of wealth, and Lucas Vasquez de Ayllon fitted out two vessels to cruise among the islands, and kidnap the Indians for laborers in the mines. The ships were driven to the shore, near a cape, which was named St. Helena. When the natives of the country, which bore the name of Chicorea, first saw the vessels, they fancied them to be huge sea-monsters; but when they saw white, bearded men, clad in armor, come forth from them, they were so terrified that they ran away. Their fears, however, were soon dispelled, and a trade was begun, in which they received trinkets in exchange for pearls, skins, gold, and silver.
When, at length, the Spaniards were ready for sailing, the Indians were invited on board of the ships; and while many of them crowded the vessels, gazing in wonder at all they saw, the adventurers treacherously closed the hatches on those who were below, and set sail for St. Domingo. The natives, thus entrapped, remained sullen and gloomy, and refused to partake of food, so that most of them perished on their voyage.
Ayllon now determined to make an expedition to Florida in person, and fitted out three large vessels, taking with him a former adventurer as a guide. The latter, however, was unable to find the place sought for, and they finally landed near Chicorea, where they were so well received that the chief allowed two hundred of the men to visit his principal village, three leagues in the interior. The natives feasted them for three days, and having thus thrown them off their guard, rose upon them by night, and massacred the whole. After this, they repaired, early in the morning, to the harbour, where they surprised Ayllon and his guards. The few who survived speedily got on board the vessel, and hastened back to St. Domingo.
In 1628, Panfilo Narvaez reached the coast of Florida with a squadron of four barks and a brigantine. He landed four hundred men and fifty horses, and took possession of the country in the name of the king of Spain, unopposed by the natives. On penetrating into the interior, in search of gold, he and his men found the principal village deserted; and not only were they disappointed of finding the chief object of their wishes, but the warlike natives harassed them on their march through swamps filled with decayed trees, where they had often to wade in the water up to their breasts. The Indians seemed of giant height; they had enormous bows, and discharged their arrows with such prodigious force as to penetrate steel armor at the distance of two hundred yards. After a most disastrous march, the greater part of the Spaniards finally reached the shore, and embarked, but they were lost at sea. Five of the party, who had set out in another direction, crossed Northern Florida, the Mississippi, the desert and mountains beyond, and, after some years, succeeded in reaching the Spanish settlements in Mexico.
But the most important exploration of Florida, and the territory north and west, was made at an early period by Hernando de Soto and his band. He left Cuba on the 12th of May, 1539, with a squadron of eight large vessels, a caravel, and two brigantines; his armament, besides the ships’ crews, consisting of not less than one thousand men and three hundred and fifty horses. On the thirteenth day, he arrived in the bay which he called Espiritu Santo. The natives, alarmed at the sight of such an invading force, immediately kindled fires all along the coast, to summon their warriors. The troops, on landing, the last day of the month, did not encounter a single Indian, and they remained all night on shore in a state of careless security.
At break of day, however, a sudden onset was made upon them by a vast army of the Indians. Several of the troops were wounded, others were panic-struck, and retreated to the shore. Relief was sent from the ships, and the Indians were finally put to flight. Landing the remainder of his forces, De Soto found the villages deserted, and learned, from some prisoners he took, that the hostility he had encountered was occasioned by outrages committed by Narvaez on a cacique of the village, called Hivrihigua. Having gained his friendship, and formed a treaty with him, the treacherous Spaniard, in a fit of passion, ordered the cacique’s nose to be cut off, and his mother to be torn in pieces by dogs. De Soto endeavoured, by sending presents to the mutilated chief, to gain his favor; but he indignantly replied to the messages, “I want none of their speeches and promises; bring me their heads, and I will joyfully receive them.”
Juan Ortiz, a follower of Narvaez, who had been captured by Hivrihigua, was obtained as an interpreter. This man was one of four on whom the cacique had determined to wreak his vengeance, on account of the treatment he had received. The others were stripped naked, led out into the public square, and set at liberty, to be shot to death by arrows. To prolong their torture, only one Indian was allowed to shoot at a time, and in this manner they were all killed, with the exception of Juan Ortiz. This was a youth hardly eighteen years old, and his appearance, as he was led forth to execution, so touched the hearts of the wife and daughters of the cacique, that, at their intercession, he was spared. He was, however, reduced to a state of slavery, made to bear burdens, and be the object of barbarous amusements. At one time, he was bound down on a wooden frame, over a bed of live coals, to be roasted alive. Again his pitying protectors came to his relief, and, by their entreaties, he was once more spared.
After various adventures, he was committed to a neighbouring cacique, by the daughter of Hivrihigua, and remained there till sent for by De Soto to act as an interpreter. The cacique under whose protection he had been, named Mucozo, also came to the Spanish camp with his warriors, and, in reply to the assurances of De Soto that he should be kindly treated, he magnanimously said, “What I have done to Ortiz is but little; he came commended to me, and threw himself on my protection. There is a law of our tribe which forbids our betraying a fugitive who asks of us an asylum. But his own virtue and dauntless courage entitled him to all the respect which was shown him. That I have pleased your people, I rejoice exceedingly, and by devoting myself henceforth to their service, I hope to merit their esteem.”
The mother of Mucozo, distressed with fears for her son, also came, and begged De Soto to deliver him up. “He is young,” said she; “only give him his liberty, and take me, who am a poor old woman, and do with me as you please. I will bear any punishment for both.” Though treated with kindness, she still continued anxious and suspicious. She would eat nothing at the governor’s table till Ortiz had first tasted it; and when asked how it happened that she, who so feared death, should offer to die for her son, she replied, “I love life as others do, but I would willingly lose it to save a son who is far dearer to me than life itself.” Though assured by her son that he was entirely at liberty, she returned home in sorrow.
By means of kindness to some of his captives, whom he allowed to go home loaded with presents, De Soto tried to soften the stern cacique, Hivrihigua. His reply was, “The memory of my injuries forbids my sending a kind answer, and a harsh one your courtesy will not allow me to return.” Learning that Hivrihigua was concealed in a forest not far from the camp, one of De Soto’s followers undertook to capture him. He had not gone far, before he met a messenger from the cacique, who begged him, in the name of his master, not to proceed any further, as the old cacique was secure in his fortress, and he could not reach him, while he would be exposed to great danger in the morasses and forests which lay in his way. The event proved according to the warning; for, notwithstanding repeated messages to the same effect, the foolhardy cavalier persisted, and was finally compelled to return home without having accomplished his purpose.
As the Spaniards advanced into the interior of the country, they found warlike Indians hanging about their path, and harassing them at every step. The savages assailed their enemy with great fury, and fought bravely; but they were no match for horsemen so armed at all points that the arrows could make no impression on them. On the approach of De Soto, the caciques fled into the woods, and prepared for resistance. One of these, named Acuera, being invited to a peaceable interview, replied, “Others of your accursed race have, in years past, poisoned our peaceful shores. They have taught me what you are. What is your employment? To wander about, like vagabonds, from land to land; to rob the poor; to betray the confiding; to murder, in cold blood, the defenceless. No; with such a people I want no peace, no friendship. War, never-ending, exterminating war, is all that I ask. You boast yourselves valiant, and so you may be; but my faithful warriors are not less brave, and this, too, you shall one day know; for I have sworn to maintain an unsparing hostility, while one white man remains in my borders. Not openly in the battle,—though even thus we fear not to meet you,—but by stratagem, and ambush, and midnight surprisal, shall you be met.”
To the demand of obedience to the emperor of Spain, the Indian replied, “I am king in my own land, and will never become the vassal of a mortal like myself. Vile and pusillanimous is he who will submit to the yoke of another, when he may be free. As for me and my people, we choose death, yes, a hundred deaths, before the loss of our liberty, and the subjugation of our country.”
De Soto sent out persons in every quarter to explore the country, but the Indians lurked in ambush, and cut off every Spaniard who strayed from the camp; and though De Soto caused the bodies to be buried, yet the Indians always returned in the night, dug them up, cut them in pieces, and hung them on the trees. Fourteen Europeans thus perished, and many more were wounded. In this manner the natives fulfilled their threats. “Keep on, robbers and traitors,” said they; “in Acuera and Apalachee, we will treat you as you deserve. Every captive will we quarter and hang up on the highest trees along the road.”
As De Soto advanced still further, he was attacked by some of the subjects of the cacique, Ocali. The adventures of the Spaniards with Vitachuco were remarkable, but we cannot detail them here.[4] In the fierce battles fought, with De Soto, the Indian warriors showed great bravery, but they were finally defeated, and nearly exterminated. The same determined spirit of resistance was manifested by almost every tribe of the Florida Indians.
After many battles and skirmishes, the Spaniards approached a village called Anhayea. The Indians had fled, but it was found to contain two hundred and fifty large and commodious houses; besides which, there were said to be many others in the province, consisting of from fifty to a hundred houses. There were, also, many dwellings scattered about the country. De Soto, to relieve himself from the harassing attacks of the Indians in this quarter, formed a plan to get possession of the cacique, Capafi. This person was so fat and unwieldy, that he could neither walk nor stand. When he went about his dwelling, he was obliged to move on his hands and knees, and in going from place to place was borne in a litter on the shoulders of his subjects. Learning that he was in the midst of a dense and vast forest, about eight leagues off, fortified in the strongest manner known to this people, and garrisoned by a band of his bravest and choicest warriors, so that he felt himself to be impregnable, De Soto determined to attack him.
The Spaniards met with a strong resistance at the entrance of the defile which led to the open place where the cacique had taken up his abode. It was so narrow that but two could go in abreast. The palisades were, however, gained in succession, and the place of the cacique’s refuge finally reached. Here a desperate conflict took place. Perceiving the danger of their chief, the Indians threw themselves on the swords and spears of the Spaniards. Many were the valiant feats performed on both sides; but as the Indians were without defensive armor, most of them were at last cut down, and the cacique, knowing that further resistance was vain, called on the survivors to surrender. They therefore threw themselves before the Spanish leader, and offered their own lives, but besought him to spare that of their cacique.
De Soto assured them of pardon, and that he would henceforth consider them as his friends. Capafi, unable to walk, was taken up on the arms of his attendants to kiss De Soto’s hands, who treated him with urbanity and kindness. The wily chief, however, on the return to the village of Anhayea, found means to escape. This was effected in the following manner. The Indians, notwithstanding the captivity of their chief, did not cease their efforts to annoy the Spaniards. De Soto reproached the cacique with ingratitude, and threatened a war of extermination. The cacique expressed his grief, and said, that as the chief assailants were concealed in a thick forest, five or six leagues off, he would go there under guard of some Spaniards, and persuade them to submit.
De Soto sent him, attended by a company of horse and foot, who were ordered to watch him closely, and not allow him to escape. On reaching the forest, at sunset, the cacique sent some Indians to the warriors who were there concealed, with orders to assemble before him the next morning. The Spaniards, satisfied that the orders of the cacique would be obeyed, betook themselves to rest, having stationed their sentinels, and placed a guard over the chief; but, owing to the fatigue of their long march, they all fell asleep. Perceiving this, the cacique watched his opportunity, crawled on his hands and knees through the camp, and soon fell in with a party of his warriors, who took him on their shoulders and carried him away. The Spaniards, mortified with the result of their expedition, returned, and on their march were taunted by the Indians for the failure of their schemes. They pretended to De Soto that they had lost their captive by some art of necromancy, and he, though aware of the truth, apparently yielded to the story, saying, that the Indians were such wonderful necromancers that they might have performed still greater feats of skill.
In an attempt made by a garrison left behind at Hivrihigua to reach De Soto, a terrible battle ensued in a morass, which came near proving fatal to the whole party. Nothing but the fall of the Indian chief who led the onset saved them from destruction. The battle took place in the water, and the Indians rushed with wild yells from behind bushes, brakes, and the trunks of trees, discharging showers of arrows at their enemy. The horses, being wounded, became furious, and threw off the foot-soldiers, who were mounted behind the horsemen. They were thus exposed to the arrows of the enemy, who perceived their fall, and rushed forward to despatch them.
In front of the assailants was an Indian entirely naked, bold and fearless, with a large plume of feathers on his head. He sought to gain the shelter of a great tree which lay between him and the Spaniards. One of these, bearing a crossbow, sent an arrow with so true an aim, that it pierced him through the breast. He staggered forward a few paces, crying out to his followers, “These traitors have slain me!” His comrades then rushed to his aid, received him in their arms, and, passing him on from one to another, carried him away.
In another part of the morass, the battle was not less bloody, and the Spaniards were losing ground, when, at the most critical moment, the news came to the Indians that their chief was mortally wounded; this checked their ardor, and they began to retreat. The Spaniards halted for the night, and it is said that scarcely a man among them had escaped without a wound.
On resuming their march, every inch of ground was disputed by the enemy, till the adventurers came to an open plain, where the cavalry could act with effect. The Indians then departed, but, when night came, they hovered round the camp with dreadful yells and howlings, taunting their foes, and launching against them clouds of arrows, thus forcing them to keep in perpetual motion. Frequently, the Spaniards were obliged to remove barriers and palisades which obstructed their march, and to cut their way through the tangled thicket; while the Indians, from their ambush, cried out, “Where are you going, robbers? We have already killed your chief and all his warriors!”
The Spaniards having spent the winter of 1539 in Apalachee, where they were perpetually annoyed by the bold and warlike savages, resumed their march on the arrival of spring. As they advanced, they came to the deserted village of Achese, where they made prisoners of two warriors, who, being brought before De Soto, demanded, in a bold and fearless manner, “What seek you in our land, peace or war?” De Soto replied, “We seek not war with any one; but our wish is to cultivate peace and friendship. We are in search of a distant province, and all we ask is food by the road.” The warriors promised to supply all necessary food, and an embassy being sent to the cacique of Cofa, he returned a deputation of two thousand Indians, with a present of rabbits, partridges, and maize, and a great number of dogs. The cacique also gave the Spaniards a generous welcome, and set apart his own dwelling for De Soto, providing, likewise, quarters for the army. The province is said to have been very extensive, fertile, and populous. The natives were peaceful, domestic, and affable, treating the strangers with great kindness.
De Soto, who had brought with him a piece of ordnance, showed its power by prostrating, with ten shots, a large oak-tree. The cacique and his people manifested great amazement as well as pleasure; and when the Spaniards departed, the chief sent messengers to his brother Cofaqui, the cacique of an adjoining province, still more opulent and powerful than his own, begging him to receive the strangers kindly. He likewise, in company with his warriors, escorted the army one day’s march, and, having bidden them farewell, charged some of his people to go on further, and do all in their power to serve them.
The cacique Cofaqui, on receiving his brother’s message, sent four chiefs, with a train of Indians, to welcome De Soto and his band. As they drew near, he went out, richly decorated, to receive them; taking with him a company of warriors who carried their bows and arrows in their hands, and wore tall plumes on their heads, with rich mantles of martin-skin, finely dressed, over their shoulders. Four thousand warriors were appointed to escort the strangers, with an equal number of retainers to carry supplies and clothing. These Indians depended on the chase for animal food; but their principal articles of provision were maize, dried plums, grapes, walnuts, and acorns.
A short time before the Spaniards departed, the cacique called his chief warrior to him in the public square, and there, in the presence of De Soto and his officers, said, “You well know that a perpetual enmity has existed between our fathers and the Indians of Cofachiqui. That bitter hatred, you are aware, has not abated in the least; the deep wrongs, the notorious injuries, we have suffered from that vile tribe, still rankle in our hearts, unrevenged! The present opportunity must not be lost! You, the leader of my warriors, must accompany this chief and his braves, and under their protection wreak vengeance on our enemies! I need say no more to you; I leave our cause and our honor in your hands.”
The Indian chief, to whom this message was addressed, was called Patofa; he had a graceful form and striking features, with a noble expression of countenance; and his whole demeanour showed that he was worthy of the trust confided in him. Rising up, he threw off his mantle of skin, seized a broadsword of palm-wood, and performed an exercise with it which excited the admiration of even the Spanish cavaliers. After many singular evolutions, he stopped before the cacique, and, with a profound reverence, said, “I pledge my word to fulfil your commands, so far as I am able; and, by the favor of these strangers, I promise to revenge the insults, the deaths, and losses that our fathers have sustained from the people of Cofachiqui. My vengeance shall be such that the memory of your past evils shall be for ever wiped away. My daring again to appear in your presence will be a token that your commands have been executed. For if the fates deny my hopes, never again shall you behold me, never again shall the sun shine upon me. If the enemy deny me death, my own hand will find it. I will inflict upon myself the punishment my cowardice or evil fortune will merit.”
The cacique rose up and embraced him, and, taking from his own shoulders a beautiful mantle of martin-skins, placed it on Patofa’s shoulders, and said, “I consider that what you have promised is as certain as if it were already done; therefore do I reward you as for services already rendered.”
The march now commenced, and soon after an Indian deserted. Patofa sent some men in pursuit of him, and he was brought back in fetters. The chief ordered him to be led to the banks of a small stream, where he was stripped, thrown on the ground, and commanded to drink the streamlet dry. The culprit drank till he could swallow no more; but the moment he raised his head from the water, five Indians, who were stationed near, belabored him with their clubs till he began again. Some of his comrades hurried to De Soto, and begged his interposition; and he was accordingly released, though half dead with the water he had swallowed.
The army, as they advanced on the high road, at length came to a dense forest, and, as the Indians professed to be as ignorant of the way as the Spaniards, De Soto suspected treachery, and called upon Patofa to explain how it was, that, of his eight thousand men, not one knew the way to Cofachiqui, with the people of which they had been so often engaged in war? Patofa declared his ignorance of the place, saying, that the wars referred to had been carried on solely by skirmishes; and as the natives of Cofachiqui were the most powerful and had been most frequently victorious, his people were afraid to pass beyond their own frontiers. “But,” said he, “do you suspect that I have led your army into these deserts to perish? If so, take what hostages you please. If my head will suffice, take it; if not, you may behead every individual of my band, as they will obey me even to the death.”
At length, they came in sight of a country studded with numerous villages. Here Patofa and his men stole out of the camp by night, assaulted a temple, and massacred every Indian in it, taking their scalps as trophies, to be carried to their cacique, Cofaqui. After laying waste the country for many leagues, slaying and scalping every man, woman, and child, sacking and pillaging villages and temples, and even breaking into the sepulchres,—Patofa and his followers returned home, laden with spoils, and pleased with having fulfilled the promise made to the cacique.
De Soto had now reached the dominions of the kind princess Cofachiqui, which doubtless formed a part of the present State of Georgia;[5] but as the Indians here, and even farther on, belonged to the Florida tribes, and as the country itself constituted a portion of the territory originally called Florida, it will be proper to give some account of them in this connection. We therefore pursue the narrative of De Soto’s march through this region.
The next place mentioned in the story of the adventurers is the province of Achalaque, said, by the narrator, to be the most wretched in all Florida. The inhabitants were a feeble, peaceful race, nearly naked, living chiefly on herbs, roots, and wild fowl. Beyond this, was a province called Xuala. Crossing a chain of low mountains which were uninhabited, the Spaniards next reached the province of Guaxule. When within a league of the principal town, they were met by the cacique, with 500 warriors richly dressed in mantles of various kinds of skins, and adorned with gay feathers. His village consisted of about 300 houses. His own dwelling, into which he received De Soto, stood on a mound, and was encircled by a terrace wide enough for six men to walk upon it abreast.
Still farther on, after passing through a desert country, they came to a village named Ichiaha, standing at the extremity of an island more than five leagues in length, the cacique of which gave them a polite and friendly welcome. After another day’s march, they came to a village called Acoste, the cacique of which was a fierce warrior. He placed himself in battle array at the head of 1,500 of his men, who were decorated with war plumes, and equipped with arms. After some difficulties, a good understanding was established, and the Spaniards were received with hospitality. Continuing their march, they met with numerous tribes, and encountered a great variety of adventures. From the giant chieftain, Tuscaloosa,[6] they received the fiercest resistance; and the Chickasaws, who were a brave and numerous people, assailed them with desperate resolution. As they proceeded, new enemies sprang up to meet them, who either gave them open battle, or hung upon their skirts, and harassed them with perpetual attacks. At one time, they came in sight of a fortress, garrisoned by Indians, whose bodies were painted in stripes of white, black, and red, and their faces blackened, with red circles about their eyes. Some of them wore feathers, and some horns on their heads, so that they looked more like devils than men. Having kindled a fire in front of their fort, they pretended to knock one of their companions on the head with a club, and then swung him by the feet and shoulders, as if they were throwing him into the flames; thus intimating to the Spaniards the kind of treatment they might expect if any of them fell into their hands. The fortress was, however, stormed and carried after a desperate fight, and a fearful scene of blood and carnage ensued, in which multitudes of the Indians were slaughtered.
It is unnecessary to give further details respecting the adventures of De Soto and his companions. We need only say, that, having proceeded westward till he had crossed the Mississippi, this daring leader was seized with fever, of which he died after an illness of seven days. His band of followers, after experiencing great vicissitudes, succeeded in descending the Mississippi, amid hosts of enemies, and, though greatly reduced in numbers, they at length reached the Gulf of Mexico in 1543. Thus terminated this celebrated expedition, which occupied four years, and in which the troops are said to have marched between four and five thousand miles.
The subsequent history of the original Indian tribes of Florida affords nothing of interest. Under the oppression of the Spanish dominion, many of them were destroyed, and others driven off, so that but few remained. Most of them seem to have been conquered, incorporated with the later Seminoles, and intermingled with fugitive negroes. The recent painful history of these we shall hereafter notice. The greater part have been removed across the Mississippi, by the United States government, and only a remnant are left to occupy what is now the Territory of Florida.