The morning of May 25, 1539, found the shore of Tampa Bay, Florida, the center of a bright and animating scene. A wealthy Spaniard, chivalrous and dashing, had just before reached the port with a force of six hundred men, twenty officers and twenty-four priests in white canonicals, all bent on an expedition into the far interior. Their quest was the long-imagined El Dorado of the western world, which was a prize glittering before the imagination of the fervid adventurer. Ferdinando DeSoto, who led this daring troop, was not unaccustomed to adventures such as he had in contemplation, for he had been with Pizarro in Peru, where he was rewarded with rich booty, and he pined to invade the southern part of the North American continent, where he hoped to reap richer rewards than were found on the continent to the south. In the exploration on which he was now entering he had been preceded ten years before by Narvaez, who had perished by drowning. Now, with a freshly equipped expedition, DeSoto entered anew on an exploration of these western wilds in search of gold.

Novel spectacle was this on the wild and primitive shore of Florida. Men in brilliant uniforms, and with helmets glittering in the spring sun, gayly caparisoned steeds, a procession of white-robed priests bearing their crucifixes, formed a procession at once novel and imposing. As they filed out and formed for the march, there was ranged in their rear a small herd, each of cattle and of hogs, to be driven on the expedition for supplies of milk and meat. As the expedition advanced inland, there was a strange multiplication both of swine and of cattle.

It was picturesque enough, this cavalcade of horsemen in shining attire, bearing the ensign of Spain, wending its way slowly through the virgin forests of tall pines. Their camp fires of rich, resinous pine knots, in the midst of stately trees, which stood like pillars in a vast cathedral, lent a scene of enlivenment to the forest surroundings. The region was green with long, wild grass and the native peavine, while the blossoms of early spring were in their glory.

Streams deep and crystal abounded, along which grew the rank cane. Herds of deer and droves of wild turkeys came frequently into view as targets for the Spanish marksmen, and the troop reveled in unusual luxury, with venison and turkey meat even in the wild woods of the continent of the West.

From the early stages of the march toward the interior, combats with the Indian tribes began, but the Indian was unequal to the Spaniard because of the better equipment of the latter. The savages were overawed by the splendor of the white soldier, and as much by his horse as by himself, for horses the Indians had never before seen. DeSoto was fortunate in the capture of Jean Ortiz in a contest in the interior of Florida. Ortiz had been one of the band of Narvaez, had been captured by the Indians ten years before, had succeeded in saving his life by wily stratagem, and because of his soldierly qualities had been made a chief of one of the tribes.Under conditions like these, Jean Ortiz had lived for ten years, making the most of the circumstances, and had long ago given up all hope of leading other than the life of a wild savage. The dominion of his tribe fell within the march of invasion of the Spaniards, and Ortiz led his warriors to battle against them. Sorely beaten in the encounter, many of his warriors having been slain, Ortiz and his troops fled in confusion, hotly pursued by the Spanish horsemen. Ortiz was specially sought to be killed because he was the leader, and as a cavalryman raised his lance to deal a deadly blow, the chief cried out in Spanish, much to the surprise of the pursuer: “Slay me not; I, too, am a Christian!” The half-nude savage was taken to DeSoto, his body smeared with divers paints, his hips swathed in a fawn skin girdle and his head bedecked with a coronet of pretty feathers. He told the story of his capture and wild life to the Spanish commander, and placed himself at his service. Ortiz proved to be a valuable ally to the troop in acquainting DeSoto with the methods of the savages, and in serving frequently as an interpreter.

DeSoto found the aborigines to be far more formidable fighters than he had expected. While their implements of combat were rude, yet when wielded by the Indian, they did deadly execution. The chief weapon of warfare of the Indian was the bow, the character of which made it an object of terror. The bows were made of sun-cured hickory saplings the size of a man’s wrist and eight feet long. Curved and secured by a strip of rawhide, the bow was no mean instrument of peril in the hands of the muscular savage. To the flexibility of the hickory bow and the elasticity of the thong were adjusted the skill and aim of the practiced warrior. The arrows were finished with a view to accuracy of aim, velocity, and deadliness of execution. Tipped with triangular flints with rough edges and pointed sharpness, they were driven with an aim so unerring, and with such force and celerity, that they could be shot through a man or beast at a distance of one hundred yards. With a quiver full of these arrows strapped to his back, the brawny warrior would sally forth, an object of terror.

Fortunately for the Spaniards, they were prepared with armor sufficient to withstand these crude weapons, for each soldier wore a coat of steel, a helmet and breastplate, and carried a shield of metal. Their horses were also protected with coats of steel. With their biscayan lances, broadswords, arquebuses, crossbows, and a small piece of artillery, the Spaniards felt secure against the primitive implements of the savage. Though thus secured against savage attack, DeSoto and his men soon learned that theirs was not a primrose path through the American wilds. The Indian proved to be a terrible antagonist with his foxy stratagem and his primitive method of warfare. These pampered sons of Spain, many of whom had been petted and nourished in mansions and in palaces of luxury, had daily to fight for their lives on the invaded territory of the red man, who would engage the Spaniards at points of the greatest advantage to themselves, and who enjoyed every possible advantage because of their familiarity with the surroundings. But for Ortiz, the expedition might have perished before it had quitted the present territory of Georgia.

The Spaniards never knew when to expect an assault. Often at the most unconjectured time, they would receive a shower of arrows, noiseless in their flight, and coming from unseen sources. Every hour, by day and by night, they were kept in suspense, and even intervals of quietude became ominous of accumulating trouble. Sometimes from the summits of rocky hills in front an attack would be made; sometimes one flank assailed, then both simultaneously; while not infrequently the rear would be attacked by overwhelming numbers of shrieking, yelling demons, whose painted, naked bodies and fierce demonstrations would create pandemonium. There was little in tragic scenes like these to hearten the tender gentry of Spain. By dint of rare discipline, maneuver, powder and ball, of which the Indians knew nothing, and an intensely common interest of protection which welded the Spaniards together, they invariably prevailed, but never were shrewder, more stubborn or fiercer foes encountered, than these raw savages of the American forest.

Though duly provided with workers in metal with their pots and ladles for the refinement of gold, the troops found no use for them after months of a straggling march through the woods of the South. The alluring vision of the invading Spaniard of the abundance of gold in the retreats of the American wilds, was gradually dispelled and vastly counterbalanced by the hourly peril that menaced. That the spirit of the troops so long survived conditions like these, shows the stern stuff of which the Spanish soldier of that time was made. His love of gold was consuming, while his spirit of adventure was the most audacious. These, combined with the necessary coherence in common defense, made DeSoto’s band well nigh invincible.

After a considerable detour of the present state of Georgia, DeSoto reached the region where the city of Rome now is, where he crossed the river, and was the first white man to set foot on the soil of Alabama. Of the subsequent scenes of the expedition we shall have occasion to learn in the chapters that are to follow.