CHAPTER XVII.
The Discovery of the Mississippi.
The Fortress of Hostile Indians.—Its Capture.—The Disastrous Conflict.—The Advance of the Army.—Discovery of the Mississippi River.—Preparations for Crossing.—Extraordinary Pageants.—Unjustifiable Attack.—The passage of the River.—Friendly Reception by Casquin.—Extraordinary Religious Festival.
On the first day of April, 1541, the army broke up its encampment, and again set out languidly on its journey to the westward. No sounds of joy were heard, for there was no longer hope to cheer. The indomitable energy of De Soto dragged along the reluctant footsteps of his troops. The first day they travelled about twelve miles, through a level and fertile country with many villages and farm houses to charm the eye. At night they encamped beyond the territory of Chickasaw, and consequently supposed that they would no longer be molested, by those hostile Indians.
A well armed party of cavalry and infantry was sent out on a foraging expedition. They accidently approached a strong fortress where a large number of Indian warriors was assembled, prepared to resist their march. They were very fantastically clothed, and painted in the highest style of barbaric art, so as to render them as hideous as possible. Immediately upon catching sight of the Spaniards they rushed out upon them with ferocious cries. Añasco, who was in command of the Spanish party, seeing such overwhelming numbers coming upon him, retreated to an open field, where he drew up his horses and placed his cross-bow men in front with their bucklers, to protect the precious animals. At the same time he sent hastily back to De Soto for reinforcements.
The Indians came rushing on, clashing their weapons, beating wooden drums and raising the war-whoop, till they arrived within reach of the arrows of the cross-bow men. Then, somewhat appalled by the formidable military array of the Spaniards glittering in steel armor, they stopped and taunted their foes from the distance, with cries of defiance and gestures of insolence and insult.
The hot-headed Añasco found it hard to restrain his impatience. Soon De Soto himself came, with all his force, except a few left to guard the camp. Carefully he scrutinized the fortress where these savages had gathered their strength to crush him. It was indeed a formidable structure: consisting of a quadrangle twelve hundred feet square. There were three entrance gates, purposely so low that mounted men could not enter. In the rear of the fortress there was a deep and rapid river with steep banks, probably the Yazoo; in the county of Tallahatchee. The fort was called the Alabama. Across this stream, frail bridges were constructed, over which the Indians, in case of necessity, could retreat, and easily destroy the bridges behind them. Directly in the rear of the front entrance, there was a second wall, and in the rear of that a third; so that if the outer wall were gained, the garrison could retreat behind one and the other.
De Soto very carefully reconnoitred the fort. He judged that the slightest appearance of timidity, on his part, would so embolden the savages as to expose him to great peril. Should he avoid the conflict, to which he was challenged, and endeavor to escape, by fleeing before his enemies, he would draw them down upon him with resistless fury. Thus again he found himself impelled to rouse all the energies of his army for the slaughter of the poor savages.
He formed his attacking force in three columns, to seize the three entrances. The Indians, carefully noting these preparations, made a simultaneous rush upon the Spaniards, pouring in upon them an incessant volley of flint-pointed arrows. Notwithstanding the armor, many of the Spaniards were wounded, the savages taking careful aim at those parts which were least protected. The three storming columns pressed vigorously on, while two bands of horsemen, twenty in each, De Soto leading one of them, attacked the tumultuous foe on each flank. The assault was resistless. The panic-stricken savages fled to the fortress. The entrances were clogged by the crowd, and horsemen and footmen, with their long sharp sabres cut down their foes with enormous slaughter.
In the heat of the conflict an arrow, thrown by the sinewy arm of an Indian, struck the steel casque of De Soto with such force that it rebounded some sixteen feet in the air. The blow was so severe that it almost unhorsed the Governor, and seemingly caused, as he afterwards said, the fire to flash from his eyes. As the savages rushed pell-mell into the fortress, their pursuers were at their heels, cutting them down. The Spaniards were exasperated. They had sought peace, and had found only war. De Soto had wished, in a friendly spirit, to traverse their country, and they were hedging up his way and pursuing him with relentless ferocity. He assumed that it was necessary, for the salvation of his army, to teach them a lesson which they would not soon forget.