Character of De Soto. ­Cruel Command of Don Pedro. ­Incident. ­The      Duel. ­Uracca. ­Consternation at Darien. ­Expedition      Organized. ­Uracca’s Reception of Espinosa and his Troops. ­The      Spaniards Retreat. ­De Soto Indignant. ­Espinosa’s Cruelty, and      Deposition from Command.

It was in the year 1519, when the expedition sailed from St. Lucar for Darien.  We have no account of the incidents which occurred during the voyage.  The fleet reached Darien in safety, and the Spanish adventurers, encased in coats of mail, which the arrows and javelins of the natives could not pierce, mounted on powerful war horses, armed with muskets and cannon, and with packs of ferocious bloodhounds at their command, were all prepared to scatter the helpless natives before them, as the whirlwind scatters autumnal leaves.

De Soto was then but nineteen years of age.  In stature and character he was a mature man.  There are many indications that he was a young man of humane and honorable instincts, shrinking from the deeds of cruelty and injustice which he saw everywhere perpetrated around him.  It is however probable, that under the rigor of military law, he at times felt constrained to obey commands from which his kindly nature recoiled.

Don Pedro was a monster of cruelty.  He gave De Soto command of a troop of horse.  He sent him on many expeditions which required not only great courage, but military sagacity scarcely to be expected in one so young and inexperienced.  It is however much to the credit of De Soto, that the annalists of those days never mentioned his name in connection with those atrocities which disgraced the administration of Don Pedro.  He even ventured at times to refuse obedience to the orders of the governor, when commanded to engage in some service which he deemed dishonorable.

One remarkable instance of this moral and physical intrepidity is on record.  Don Pedro had determined upon the entire destruction of a little village occupied by the natives.  The torch was to be applied, and men, women and children, were to be put to the sword.  Don Pedro had issued such a command as this, with as much indifference as he would have placed his foot upon an anthill.  It is not improbable that one of the objects he had in view was to impose a revolting task upon De Soto, that he might be, as it were, whipped into implicit obedience.  He therefore sent one of the most infamous of his captains to De Soto with the command that he should immediately take a troop of horse, proceed to the doomed village, gallop into its peaceful and defenceless street, set fire to every dwelling, and with their keen sabres, cut down every man, woman and child.  It was a deed fit only for demons to execute.

De Soto deemed himself insulted in being ordered on such a mission.  This was not war, ­it was butchery.  The defenceless natives could make no resistance.  Indignantly and heroically he replied: 

“Tell Don Pedro, the governor, that my life and services are always at his disposal, when the duty to be performed is such as may become a Christian and a gentleman.  But in the present case, I think the governor would have shown more discretion by entrusting you, Captain Perez, with this commission, instead of sending you with the order to myself.”

This reply Captain Perez might certainly regard as reflecting very severely upon his own character, and as authorizing him to demand that satisfaction which, under such circumstances, one cavalier expects of another.  He however carried the message to the governor.  Don Pedro was highly gratified.  He saw that a duel was the necessary result.  Captain Perez was a veteran soldier, and was the most expert swordsman in the army.  He was famed for his quarrelsome disposition; had already fought many duels, in which he had invariably killed his man.  In a rencontre between the youthful De Soto and the veteran Captain Perez, there could be no doubt in the mind of the governor as to the result.  He therefore smiled very blandly upon Captain Perez, and said in language which the captain fully understood: 

“Well, my friend, if you, who are a veteran soldier, can endure the insolence of this young man, De Soto, I see no reason why an infirm old man like myself should not show equal forbearance.”

Captain Perez was not at all reluctant to take the hint.  It was only giving him an opportunity to add another to the list of those who had fallen before his sword.  The challenge was immediately given.  De Soto’s doom was deemed sealed.  Duels in the Spanish army were fashionable, and there was no moral sentiment which recoiled in the slightest degree from the barbaric practice.

The two combatants met with drawn swords in the presence of nearly all the officers of the colonial army, and of a vast concourse of spectators.  The stripling De Soto displayed skill with his weapon which not only baffled his opponent, but which excited the surprise and admiration of all the on-lookers.  For two hours the deadly conflict continued, without any decisive results.  De Soto had received several trifling wounds, while his antagonist was unharmed.  At length, by a fortunate blow, he inflicted such a gash upon the right wrist of Perez, that his sword dropped from his hand.  As he attempted to catch it with his left hand, he stumbled and fell to the ground.  De Soto instantly stood over him with his sword at his breast, demanding that he should ask for his life.  The proud duellist, thus for the first time in his life discomfited, was chagrined beyond endurance.  In sullen silence, he refused to cry for mercy.  De Soto magnanimously returned his sword to its scabbard, saying:  “The life that is not worth asking for, is not worth taking.”

He then gracefully bowed to the numerous spectators and retired from the field, greeted with the enthusiastic acclaim of all who were present.  This achievement gave the youthful victor prominence above any other man in the army.  Perez was so humiliated by his defeat, that he threw up his commission and returned to Spain.  Thus the New World was rid of one of the vilest of the adventurers who had cursed it.

The region of the peninsula, and the adjoining territory of South America, were at that time quite densely populated.  The inhabitants seem to have been a happy people, not fond of war, and yet by no means deficient in bravery.  The Spanish colonists were but a handful among them.  But the war horse, bloodhounds, steel coats of mail and gunpowder, gave them an immense, almost resistless superiority.

There was at this time, about the year 1521, an Indian chief by the name of Uracca, who reigned over quite a populous nation, occupying one of the northern provinces of the isthmus.  He was a man of unusual intelligence and ability.  The outrages which the Spaniards were perpetrating roused all his energies of resentment, and he resolved to adopt desperate measures for their extermination.  He gathered an army of twenty thousand men.  In that warm climate, in accordance with immemorial usage, they went but half clothed.  Their weapons were mainly bows, with poisoned arrows; though they had also javelins and clumsy swords made of a hard kind of wood.

The tidings of the approach of this army excited the greatest consternation at Darien.  A shower of poisoned arrows from the strong arms of twenty thousand native warriors, driven forward by the energies of despair, even these steel-clad adventurers could not contemplate without dread.  The Spaniards had taught the natives cruelty.  They had hunted them down with bloodhounds; they had cut off their hands with the sword; they had fed their dogs with their infants; had tortured them at slow fires and cast their children into the flames.  They could not expect that the natives could be more merciful than the Spaniards had been.

Don Pedro, instead of waiting the arrival of his foes, decided to assail the army on its march, hoping to take it by surprise and to throw consternation into the advancing ranks.  He divided his army of attack into two parties.  One division of about one hundred men, he sent in two small vessels along the western coast of the isthmus, to invade the villages of Uracca, hoping thus to compel the Indian chief to draw back his army for the defence of his own territories.  This expedition was under the command of General Espinosa.

The main body of the Spanish troops, consisting of about two hundred men, marched along the eastern shore of the isthmus, intending eventually to effect a junction with the naval force in the realms of the foe.  The energetic, but infamous Francisco Pizarro, led these troops.  A very important part of his command consisted of a band of dragoons, thirty or forty in number, under the leadership of De Soto.  His steel-clad warriors were well mounted, with housings which greatly protected their steeds from the arrows of the natives.

The wary Indian chieftain, who developed during the campaign military abilities of a high order, had his scouts out in all directions.  They discerned in the distant horizon the approach of the two vessels, and swift runners speedily reported the fact to Uracca.  He immediately marched with a force in his judgment sufficiently strong to crush the invaders, notwithstanding their vast superiority in arms.

The Spaniards entered a sheltered bay skirted by a plain, which could be swept by their guns, and where the Indian warriors would have no opportunity to hide in ambush.  Uracca allowed the Spaniards to disembark unopposed.  He stationed his troops, several thousand in number, in a hilly country, several leagues distant from the place of landing, which was broken with chasms and vast boulders, and covered with tropical forest.  Here every Indian could fight behind a rampart, and the Spaniards could only approach in the scattered line of skirmishers.  The proud Spaniards advanced in their invading march with as much of war’s pageantry as could be assumed.  They hoped that nodding plumes and waving banners, and trumpet peals, would strike with consternation the heart of the Indians.

Uracca calmly awaited their approach.  His men were so concealed that Espinosa could form no judgment of their numbers or position.  Indeed he was scarcely conscious that there was any foe there who would venture to oppose his march.  Accustomed as he was to ride rough shod over the naked Indians, he was emboldened by a fatal contempt for the prowess of his foe.  Uracca allowed the Spaniards to become entangled in the intricacies of rocks and gullies and gigantic forest trees, when suddenly he opened upon them such a shower of poisoned arrows as the Spaniards had never encountered before.  The touch of one of these arrows, breaking the skin, caused immediate and intense agony, and almost certain death.  The sinewy arms of the Indians could throw these sharp-pointed weapons with almost the precision and force of a bullet, and with far greater rapidity than the Spaniards could load and fire their muskets.

Espinosa found himself assailed by a foe outnumbering him ten or twenty to one.  The air was almost darkened with arrows, and every one was thrown with unerring aim.  The rout of the Spaniards was almost instantaneous.  Several were killed, many wounded.  In a panic, they turned and fled precipitately from the trap in which they had been caught.  The natives impetuously pursued, showing no quarter, evidently determined to exterminate the whole band.

It so happened that De Soto, with his dragoons, had left Pizarro’s band, and in a military incursion into the country, was approaching the bay where Espinosa had landed his troops.  Suddenly the clamor of the conflict burst upon his ear ­the shouts of the Indian warriors and the cry of the fugitive Spaniards.  His little band put spurs to their horses and hastened to the scene of action.  Very great difficulties impeded their progress.  The rugged ground, encumbered by rocks and broken by ravines, was almost impassable for horsemen.  But the energy of De Soto triumphed over these obstacles, even when the bravest of his companions remonstrated and hesitated to follow him.  At length he reached the open country over which the Spaniards were rushing to gain their ships, pursued by the Indians in numbers and strength which seemed to render the destruction of the Spaniards certain.

The natives stood in great dread of the horses.  When they saw the dragoons, glittering in their steel armor, come clattering down upon the plain, their pursuit was instantly checked.  Espinosa, thus unexpectedly reinforced, rallied his panic-stricken troops, and in good order continued the retreat to the ships.  De Soto with his cavalry occupied the post of danger as rear-guard.  The Indians cautiously followed, watching for every opportunity which the inequalities of the ground might offer, to assail the invaders with showers of arrows.  Occasionally De Soto would halt and turn his horses’ heads towards the Indians.  Apprehensive of a charge, they would then fall back.  The retreat was thus conducted safely, but slowly.

The Spaniards had advanced many leagues from the shores of the Pacific.  They were now almost perishing from hunger and fatigue.  Indian bands were coming from all directions to reinforce the native troops.  The sun was going down and night was approaching.  All hearts were oppressed with the greatest anxiety.  Just then Pizarro, with his two hundred men, made his appearance.  He had not been far away, and a courier having informed him of the peril of the Spaniards, he hastened to their relief.  Night with its gloom settled down over the plain, and war’s hideous clamor was for a few hours hushed.  The morning would usher in a renewal of the battle, under circumstances which caused the boldest hearts in the Spanish camp to tremble.

In the night Generals Espinosa and Pizarro held a council of war, and came to the inglorious resolve to steal away under the protection of darkness, leaving Uracca in undisputed possession of the field.  This decision excited the indignation of De Soto.  He considered it a disgrace to the Spanish arms, and declared that it would only embolden the natives in all their future military operations.  His bitter remonstrances were only answered by a sneer from General Espinosa, who assured him that the veteran captains of Spain would not look to his youth and inexperience for guidance and wisdom.

At midnight the Spaniards commenced their retreat as secretly and silently as possible.  But they had a foe to deal with who was not easily to be deceived.  His scouts were on the alert, and immediate notice was communicated to Uracca of the movements of the Spaniards.  The pursuit was conducted with as much vigor as the flight.  For eight and forty hours the fugitives were followed so closely, and with such fierce assailment, that large numbers of the rank and file perished.  The officers and the dragoons of De Soto, wearing defensive armor, generally escaped unharmed.  The remnant at length, weary and famine-stricken, reached their ships and immediately put to sea.  With the exception of De Soto’s dragoons, they numbered but fifty men.  Deeply despondent in view of their disastrous campaign, they sailed several leagues along the western coast of the isthmus towards the south, till they reached a flourishing Indian village called Borrica.  Conscious that here they were beyond the immediate reach of Uracca’s avenging forces, they ventured to land.  They found all the men absent.  They were probably in the ranks of the native army.

General Espinosa, who was now chief in command, meanly sacked the defenceless village and captured all the women and children, to be sent to the West Indies and sold as slaves.  The generous heart of De Soto was roused by this outrage.  He was an imperious man, and was never disposed to be very complaisant to his superiors.  Sternly the young captain rebuked Espinosa as a kidnapper, stealing the defenceless; and he demanded that the prisoners should be set at liberty.  An angry controversy ensued.  De Soto accused Espinosa of cowardice and imbecility, in ordering the troops of Spain to retreat before naked savages.  Espinosa, whose domineering spirit could brook no opposition, accused De Soto of mutinous conduct, and threatened to report him to the governor.  De Soto angrily turned his heel upon his superior officer and called upon his troops to mount their horses.  Riding proudly at their head, he approached the tent of Espinosa and thus addressed him: 

“Senor Espinosa, the governor did not place me under your command, and you have no claim to my obedience.  I now give you notice, that if you retain these prisoners so cruelly and unjustly captured, you must do so at your own risk.  If these Indian warriors choose to make any attempt to recover their wives and their children, I declare to you upon my solemn oath, and by all that I hold most sacred, that they shall meet with no opposition from me.  Consider, therefore, whether you have the power to defend yourself and secure your prey, when I and my companions have withdrawn from this spot.”

Pizarro does not seem to have taken any active part in this dispute, though he advised the headstrong Espinosa to give up his captives.  While these scenes were transpiring, about one hundred of the men of the village returned.  Most earnestly they entreated the release of their wives and children.  If not peacefully released, it was pretty evident that they would fight desperately for their rescue.  It was quite apparent that the Indian runners had gone in all directions to summon others to their aid.  The withdrawal of De Soto left Espinosa so weakened that he could hardly hope successfully to repel such forces.  Indeed he was so situated that, destitute of provisions and ammunition, he did not dare to undertake a march back through the wilderness to Darien.  He therefore very ungraciously consented to surrender his captives.

Governor Don Pedro had established his headquarters at Panama.  De Soto, accompanied by a single dragoon, who like himself was an admirable horseman, rode with the utmost possible dispatch to Panama, where he informed the governor of the disasters which had befallen the expedition, and of the precarious condition in which he had left the remnant of the troops.  He also made such representation of the military conduct of General Espinosa as to induce the governor to remove him from the command and send General Herman Ponce to take his place.  The garrison at Panama was then so weak that only forty men could be spared to go to the relief of the troops at Borrica.

In the mean time the Indian chief Uracca had received full information of the position and condition of the Spanish troops.  Very sagaciously he formed his plan to cut off their retreat.  Detachments of warriors were placed at every point through which they could escape; they could not venture a league from their ramparts on any foraging expedition, and no food could reach them.  They obtained a miserable subsistence from roots and herbs.

At length De Soto returned with a fresh supply of ammunition and the small reinforcement.  By the aid of his cavalry he so far broke up the blockade as to obtain food for the famishing troops.  Still it was very hazardous to attempt a retreat to Panama.  With the reinforcements led by General Ponce, their whole army, infantry and cavalry, amounted to less than one hundred and fifty men.  They would be compelled on their retreat to climb mountains, plunge into ragged ravines, thread tropical forests and narrow defiles, where armies of uncounted thousands of natives were ready to dispute their passage.