John S. C. Abbott

Incidents of the March.—Passage of the River.—Entering Anhayea.—Exploring Expeditions.—De Soto's desire for Peace.—Capture of Capafi.—His Escape.—Embarrassments of De Soto.—Letter of Isabella.—Exploration of the Coast.—Discovery of the Bay of Pensacola.—Testimony Respecting CafachiquÉ.—The March Resumed.

The Spaniards now entered upon a beautiful and highly cultivated region, waving with fields of corn and adorned with many pleasant villages and scattered farm-houses. It seemed to be the abode of peace, plenty and happiness. It certainly might have been such, but for the wickedness of man. Wearied with their long march and almost incessant battle, the Spaniards encamped in the open plain, where their horsemen would be able to beat off assaults.

But the night brought them no repose. It was necessary to keep a large force mounted and ready for conflict. The natives, in large numbers, surrounded them, menacing an attack from every quarter, repeatedly drawing near enough in the darkness to throw their arrows into the camp, and keeping up an incessant and hideous howling. After a sleepless night, with the earliest light of the morning they resumed their march along a very comfortable road, which led through extensive fields of corn, beans, pumpkins and other vegetables. The prairie spread out before them in its beautiful, level expanse, till lost in the distant horizon. All the day long their march was harassed by bands of natives springing up from ambush in the dense corn-fields which effectually concealed them from view. Many were the bloody conflicts in which the natives were cut down mercilessly, and still their ferocity and boldness continued unabated.

After thus toiling on for six miles the Spaniards approached a deep stream, supposed to be the river Uche. It was crossed by a narrow ford with deep water above and below. Here the natives had constructed palisades, and interposed other obstacles, behind which, with their arrows and javelins, they seemed prepared to make a desperate resistance. De Soto, after carefully reconnoitering the position, selected a number of horsemen, who were most effectually protected with their steel armor, and sent them forward, with shields on one arm, and with swords and hatchets to hew away these obstructions, which were all composed of wood. Though several of the Spaniards were slain and many wounded, they effected a passage, when the mounted horsemen plunged through the opening, put the Indians to flight and cut them down with great slaughter.

Continuing their march, on the other side of the river, for a distance of about six miles through the same fertile and well populated region, they were admonished by the approach of night, again to seek an encampment. The night was dark and gloomy. All were deeply depressed in spirits. An incessant battle seemed their destiny. The golden mountains of which they were in pursuit were ever vanishing away. They were on the same path which had previously been traversed by the cruel but energetic Narvaez, and where his whole company had been annihilated, leaving but four or five to tell the tale of the awful tragedy.

Dreadful as were the woes which these adventurers had brought upon the Indians, still more terrible were the calamities in which they had involved themselves. They were now three hundred miles from Tampa Bay. Loud murmurs began to rise in the camp. Nearly all demanded to return. But, for De Soto, the abandonment of the enterprise was disgrace, and apparently irretrievable ruin. There was scarcely any condition of life more to be deplored than that of an impoverished nobleman. De Soto was therefore urged onward by the energies of despair.Again through all the hours of the night, they were exposed to an incessant assault from their unwearied foes. From their captives they learned that they were but six miles from the village of Anhayea, where their chief, Capafi, resided. This was the first instance in which they heard of a chief who did not bear the same name as the town in which he dwelt. Early in the morning, De Soto, with two hundred mounted cavaliers and one hundred footmen, led the advance, and soon entered the village, which consisted of two hundred and fifty houses, well built and of large size.

At one end of the village stood the dwelling of the chief, which was quite imposing in extent, though not in the grandeur of its architecture. The chief and all his men had fled, and the Spaniards entered deserted streets. The army remained here for several days, finding abundance of food. Still they were harassed, day and night, by the indomitable energy of the natives. Two well armed expeditions were sent out to explore the country on the north and the west, for a distance of forty or fifty miles, while a third was dispatched to the south in search of the ocean.

Anhayea, where the main body of the army took up its quarters, is supposed to have been near the present site of the city of Tallahassee. The two first expeditions sent out, returned, one in eight and the other in nine days, bringing back no favorable report. The other, sent in search of the ocean, was absent much longer, and De Soto became very apprehensive that it had been destroyed by the natives.

Through many perilous and wild adventures, being often betrayed and led astray by their guides, they reached, after a fortnight's travel, the head of the bay now called St. Mark's. Here they found vestiges of the adventurers who had perished in the ill-fated Narvaez expedition. There was a fine harbor to which reinforcements and fresh supplies of ammunition might be sent to them by ships from Cuba, or from Tampa Bay. With these tidings they hurried back to Anhayea.

They had now reached the month of November, 1539. The winter in these regions, though short, had often days of such excessive cold that men upon the open prairie, exposed to bleak winds called northers, often perished from the severity of the weather. De Soto resolved to establish himself in winter-quarters at Anhayea. With his suite he occupied the palace of the chief. The other houses were appropriated to the soldiers for their barracks. He threw up strong fortifications and sent out foraging parties into the region around, for a supply of provisions. As we have no intimation that any payment was made, this was certainly robbery. Whatever may be said of the necessities of his case, it was surely unjust to rob the Indians of their harvests. Still, De Soto should not be condemned unheard; and while we have no evidence that he paid the natives for the food he took from them, still we have no proof that he did not do so.

In accordance with his invariable custom, he made strenuous efforts to win the confidence of the natives. Through captive Indians he sent valuable presents to the chief Capafi in his retreat, and also assurances that he sought only friendly relations between them. The chief, however, was in no mood to give any cordial response to these advances. He had taken refuge in a dense forest, surrounded by dismal morasses, which could only be traversed by a narrow pass known only to the Indians, where his warriors in ambush might easily arrest the march of the whole army of Spaniards. The brutal soldiery of Narvaez had taught them to hate the Spaniards.

He kept up an incessant warfare, sending out from his retreat fierce bands to assail the invaders by day and by night, never allowing them one moment of repose. Many of the Spaniards were slain. But they always sold their lives very dearly, so that probably ten natives perished to one of the Spaniards. There was nothing gained by this carnage. De Soto was anxious to arrest it. Every consideration rendered it desirable for him to have the good will of the natives. Peace and friendship would enable him to press forward with infinitely less difficulty in search of his imaginary mountains of gold and silver, and would greatly facilitate his establishment of a colony around the waters of some beautiful bay in the Gulf, whence he could ship his treasures to Spain and receive supplies in return.

Finding it impossible to disarm the hostility of Capafi by any kindly messages or presents, he resolved if possible to take him captive. In this way only could he arrest the cruel war. The veneration of the Indians for their chief was such that, with Capafi in the hands of the Spaniards as a hostage, they would cease their attacks out of regard to his safety.

It was some time before De Soto could get any clew to the retreat in which Capafi was concealed. And he hardly knew how to account for the fact, that the sovereign of a nation of such redoubtable ferocity, should never himself lead any of his military bands, in the fierce onsets which they were incessantly making. At length De Soto learned that Capafi, though a man of great mental energy, was incapacitated from taking the field by his enormous obesity. He was so fat that he could scarcely walk, and was borne from place to place on a litter. He could give very energetic commands, but the execution of them must be left to others. He also ascertained that this formidable chief had taken up his almost unapproachable quarters about twenty-five miles from Anhayea; and that in addition to the tangled thickets and treacherous morasses with which nature had surrounded him, he had also fortified himself in the highest style of semi-barbarian art, and had garrisoned his little fortress with a band of his most indomitable warriors.

Notwithstanding the difficulty of the enterprise, De Soto resolved to attempt to capture him. This was too arduous a feat to be entrusted to the leadership of any one but himself. He took a select body of horsemen and footmen, and after a very difficult journey of three days, came to the borders of the citadel where the chief and his garrison were intrenched. Mr. Irving, in his admirable history of the Conquest of Florida, gives the following interesting account of the fortress, and of the battle in which it was captured:

Severe as had been the conflict, De Soto returned to Anhayea with his captive, highly gratified by the result of his enterprise. He had strictly enjoined it upon his troops not to be guilty of any act of wanton violence. On the march he had very carefully refrained from any ravaging of the country. He now hoped that, the chief being in his power and being treated with the utmost kindness, all hostilities would cease. But, much to his disappointment, the warriors of Capafi, released from the care of their chief, devoted themselves anew to the harassment of the Spaniards in every possible way.

Capafi seemed much grieved by this their conduct, assuming to be entirely reconciled to his conqueror. He informed De Soto that his prominent warriors, who directed the campaign, had established their headquarters in a dense forest about thirty miles from Anhayea. He said that it would be of no avail for him to send messengers to them, for they would believe that the messages were only such as De Soto compelled their chief to utter. He however offered to go himself to the camp of his warriors, accompanied by such a guard of Spanish troops as De Soto might deem it best to send with him. He expressed the assurance, that he should be enabled to induce his warriors to throw down their arms.

De Soto accepted the proposition. In the early morning a strong escort of infantry and cavalry left the village to conduct the chief to the encampment of the natives. Skillful guides accompanied them, so that they reached the vicinity of the encampment just as the sun was going down. The chief sent forward scouts immediately, to inform his friends of his approach. The Spaniards, weary of their long day's march, and convinced of the impossibility of the escape of the chief, who could scarcely walk a step, were very remiss in watchfulness. Though they established sentinels and a guard, in accordance with military usage, it would seem that they all alike fell asleep. It is probable that the wily chief had sent confidential communications to his warriors through his scouts.

The Spaniards were encamped in the glooms of the forest. At midnight, when darkness, silence and solitude reigned, Capafi stealthily crept on his hands and knees, a few rods from his sleeping guard, into the thicket, where a band of Indian runners met him with a litter and bore him rapidly away beyond all chance of successful pursuit. The Spaniards never caught glimpse of their lost captive again. When they awoke their chagrin and dread of punishment were extreme. The sentinels, who had been appointed to watch the captive, solemnly averred, in excuse for their neglect, that during the night demoniac spirits had appeared, and had borne away the unwieldy chief through the air.

As all the band were implicated in the escape, all were alike ready to aver that, during the night, they had witnessed very strange sights and heard very strange sounds. When they carried back this report, the good-natured De Soto, convinced that fretting and fault-finding would do no good, appeased their alarm by saying, with a peculiar smile:

"It is not strange. These Indian wizards perform feats far more difficult than conjuring away a fat chief."

The winter passed slowly away. The natives were a very ferocious race; tall, strong, athletic, and delighting in war. Every day and every hour brought alarm and battle. The Indians conducted a harassing and destructive warfare. In small bands they roamed through the forest, cutting off any who ventured to wander from the town. It required a large amount of food to supply the wants of the army in Anhayea. Not a native carried any provisions to the town, and it was necessary for De Soto to send out foraging expeditions, at whatever risk. The winter was cold. Fires were needed for warmth and cooking. But the sound of an axe could not be heard in the forest, without drawing upon the wood-cutters, a swarm of foes. De Soto found himself in what is called a false position; so that he deemed it necessary to resort to cruel and apparently unjustifiable expedients.

He took a large number of Indian captives. These he compelled to be his hewers of wood and drawers of water. He would send a party of Spaniards into the forests for fuel. Each man led an Indian as a servant to operate in the double capacity of a shield against the arrows of the natives, and a slave to collect and bring back the burden. To prevent the escape of these Indians, each one was led by a chain, fastened around his neck or waist. Sometimes these natives would make the most desperate efforts to escape; by a sudden twitch upon the chain they would endeavor to pull it from the hands of their guard, or to throw him down and, seizing any club within their reach, would spring upon him with the ferocity of a tiger.

In various ways more than twenty Spaniards lost their lives, and many more were seriously wounded. It was indeed a melancholy winter for the army of De Soto. Their supplies were so far expended that it was needful for them to await the arrival of their vessels in the Bay of St. Marks. It will also be remembered, that De Soto had sent back an expedition to cut its way for a distance of three hundred miles through hostile nations to Ucita, and to summon the garrison there, to set out on a march to join him at Anhayea. Five months were thus spent in weary waiting.

It is estimated that De Soto's force in Anhayea, including the captives who were servants or slaves, amounted to about fifteen hundred persons. He had also over three hundred horses. The fertility of the region was however such, with its extended fields of corn, beans, pumpkins and other vegetables, that it was not necessary to send foraging parties to a distance of more than four or five miles from the village. On the 29th of December, 1539, the two brigantines, which had sailed from Tampa Bay, came into St. Marks, then called the Bay of Aute. For twelve days before the arrival of the ships, De Soto had kept companies of horse and foot marching and countermarching between Anhayea and the Bay, to keep the communication open. They also placed banners on the highest trees, as signals to point out the place of anchorage.

Juan De AÑasco, who had command of the vessels, left them well manned in the bay, and with the remainder of the ship's company marched to Anhayea, under escort of the troops sent him by De Soto.

Soon after this, Pedro Calderon arrived with his gallant little band of a hundred and twenty men. By a series of the wildest adventures and most heroic achievements they had cut their way through a wilderness thronging with foes, where an army of eight hundred men had with difficulty effected a passage. Fighting every step of the way and bearing along with them their wounded, their progress was necessarily slow. Several of their number were killed and many wounded. Of the wounded, twelve died soon after they reached Anhayea.

Their arrival in the village was a cause of great gratification to all there. De Soto received them as an affectionate father welcomes his son whom he had supposed to have been lost. The rumor had reached the Governor that all had been slain on the road.

Captain Calderon brought a letter to De Soto, from his wife Isabella. We find the following interesting extract from this letter in the life of De Soto by Mr. Lambert A. Wilmer. It seems to bear internal evidence of authenticity, though we know not the source from which Mr. Wilmer obtained it. The spirit of the letter is in entire accord with the noble character which Mr. Washington Irving gives Isabella, in his life of Columbus and his companions.

This letter must have caused De Soto great perplexity. But for reasons which we have above given he could not make up his mind to abandon the enterprise, and return to Cuba an unsuccessful and impoverished man.

De Soto now ordered the two vessels under Diego Maldonado to explore the coast to the westward, carefully examining every river and bay. It would seem also probable that at the same time he fitted out an expedition of fifty foot soldiers, to march along the coast on a tour of discovery. Maldonado, after a sail of about two hundred miles, entered the beautiful bay of Pensacola, then called Archusi. It was an admirable harbor, and with shores so steep and bold that ships could ride in safety almost within cable length of the land. No Spaniards had previously visited that region, consequently the natives were friendly. They came freely on board, bringing fruits and vegetables, and inviting the strangers to the hospitality of their homes.

Maldonado was allowed without molestation to explore the bay in all directions, taking careful soundings. The vessels returned to the bay of Aute, after an absence of but eight weeks. De Soto was highly gratified with the results of the expedition. It seemed to him that the shores of the bay of Pensacola presented just the position he desired for the location of his colony. He had thus far failed, in his search for gold, but it seemed to him still possible that he might lay the foundation of a populous and powerful empire.

It was now the latter part of February, and an almost vertical sun was throwing down its rays upon them. Maldonado was dispatched with the brigantines to Havana, to return with a supply of clothing, ammunition and such other freight as was needful for the army in its isolated condition. He received orders to be back in the bay of Pensacola, by the first of October. In the mean time De Soto with his army was to make a long circuit through the country, in search of gold. De Soto had received information of a distant province called Cofachiqui, which was governed by a queen, young and beautiful. It was said that this nation was quite supreme over the adjacent provinces, from which it received tribute and feudal homage.

Two lads but sixteen years of age had come to Anhayea, from this province in company with some Indian traders. So far as they could make themselves understood, though very unskilful interpreters, they represented the country as abounding in silver, gold and precious stones. In pantomime they described the process of mining and smelting the precious metals so accurately that experienced miners were convinced that they must have witnessed those operations.

In the month of March, 1540, De Soto left his comfortable quarters, and commenced his march for that province, in a northeasterly direction. Their path led first through an almost unpeopled wilderness many leagues in extent. Each soldier bore his frugal supper or food upon his back. It consisted mainly of roasted corn pounded or ground into meal.

An unobstructed but weary tramp of three days brought them through this desert region to a very singular village, called Capachiqui. In the midst of a vast morass, there was an island of elevated and dry ground. Here quite a populous village was erected, which commanded a wide spread view of the flat surrounding region. The village could only be approached by several causeways crossing the marsh, about three hundred feet in length. The country beyond was fertile and sprinkled with small hamlets. Eight hundred armed warriors, on the open plain, presented a force which the most valiant Indians would not venture to assail. The Spaniards entered the village by these causeways unopposed, and found there a not inhospitable reception.

The day after their arrival, seven of De Soto's body-guard, thoughtless and rollicking young men, set out, without authority from their superior officers, to seek amusement in the neighboring hamlets. They had scarcely reached the main land, beyond the marsh, when the Indians, from an ambush, rushed upon them, and after a very fierce struggle all but one were slain, and that one, Aguilar, was mortally wounded. The soldiers in the village hastened to the relief of their comrades, but they were too late. Aguilar, in a dying condition, was carried back to the encampment. He had, however, sufficient strength left to make the following extraordinary statement:

"You must know that a band of more than fifty savages sprang out of the thickets to attack us. The moment, however, they saw that we were but seven, and without our horses, seven warriors stepped forth, and the rest retired to some distance. They began the attack, and as we had neither arquebus nor cross-bow, we were entirely at their mercy. Being more agile, and fleet of foot than our men, they leaped around us like so many devils, with horrid laughter, shooting us down like wild beasts without our being able to close with them. My poor comrades fell one after the other, and the savages seeing me alone, all seven rushed upon me, and with their bows battered me as you have witnessed."

This singular event took place within the territory of Appalachee. It is said that the Spaniards not unfrequently met with similar instances, in which the natives disdained to avail themselves of superior numbers.