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.