The Army in Alabama. Barbaric
Pageant. The Chief of Tuscaloosa. Native
Dignity. Suspected Treachery of the Chief. Mobila,
its Location and Importance. Cunning of
the Chief. The Spaniards Attacked. Incidents
of the Battle. Disastrous Results.
On the 15th of July, 1540, the army
came in sight of the metropolitan town of the rich
and populous province through which it was passing.
The town, like the province, bore the name of Coosa.
The army had travelled slowly, so that the native
chief, by his swift footmen, had easily kept himself
informed of all its movements. When within a mile
or two of Coosa, De Soto saw in the distance a very
splendid display of martial bands advancing to meet
him. The friendly greeting he had continually
received disarmed all suspicion of a hostile encounter.
The procession rapidly approached.
At its head was the chief, a young man twenty-six
years of age, of admirable figure and countenance,
borne in a chair palanquin upon the shoulders of four
of his warriors. A thousand soldiers, in their
most gaudy attire, composed his train. As they
drew near, with the music of well-played flutes, with
regular tread, their mantles and plumes waving in
the breeze, all the Spaniards were alike impressed
with the beauty of the spectacle. The chief himself
was decorated with a mantle of rich furs gracefully
thrown over his shoulders. His diadem was of plumes
very brilliantly colored. He addressed De Soto
in the following speech:
“Mighty chief, above all others
of the earth. Although I come now to receive
you, yet I received you many days ago deep in my heart.
If I had the whole world it would not give me as much
pleasure as I now enjoy at the presence of yourself
and your incomparable warriors. My person, lands,
and subjects are at your service. I will now march
you to your quarters with playing and singing."
De Soto made a suitable response.
Then the two armies, numbering, with their attendants,
more than two thousand men, commenced their march
toward the town. The native chief was borne in
his palanquin, and De Soto rode on his magnificent
charger by his side. The royal palace was assigned
to De Soto, and one-half of the houses in the town
were appropriated to the soldiers for their lodgings.
The town of Coosa, which consisted
of five hundred houses, was situated on the east bank
of the river of the same name, between two creeks
now known as Talladega and Tallasehatchee. During
a residence of twelve days in this delightful retreat,
some slight disturbance arose between some of the
natives and some of the Spanish soldiers. It
was, however, easily quelled by the prudence and friendly
disposition of the chief and the Governor. Indeed,
the native chief became so attached to De Soto as
to urge him to establish his colony there. Or
if he could not consent to that arrangement, at least
to spend the winter with him.
“But De Soto,” writes Mr.
Irving, “was anxious to arrive at the bay
of Achusi, where he had appointed Captain Diego Maldonado
to meet him in the autumn. Since leaving the
province of Xuala he had merely made a bend through
the country, and was now striking southerly for
the sea-coast.”
On the 20th of August the Spanish
army, after having spent twenty-five days at Coosa,
was again in movement. The chief of Coosa, and
a large body of his warriors, accompanied De Soto
to their frontiers, evidently as a friendly retinue.
The Portuguese Narrative makes the incredible assertion
that they were all prisoners, compelled to follow
the army for its protection and as guides. With
much more probability it is represented that one of
the chief’s subordinate officers on the frontier
was in a state of insurrection, and that upon that
account the chief gladly accompanied the Spaniards,
hoping to overawe his refractory subjects by appearing
among them with such formidable allies.
The Spaniards now entered the territory
of Tuscaloosa, who was the most warlike and powerful
chieftain of all the southern tribes. His domain
comprised nearly the whole of the present States of
Alabama and Mississippi. The Tuscaloosa, or Black
Warrior river, flowed through one of the richest of
his valleys. Though there were no mails or telegraphs
in those days, Indian runners conveyed all important
intelligence with very considerable rapidity.
The chief had heard of the approach of the Spaniards,
and the annalists of those days say, we know not with
what authority, that he hesitated whether to receive
them as friends or foes. Whatever may have been
his secret thoughts, he certainly sent his son, a
young man of eighteen, with a retinue of warriors,
to meet De Soto with proffers of friendship.
The young ambassador was a splendid
specimen of manhood, being taller than any Spaniard
or Indian in the army, and admirably formed for both
strength and agility. In his bearing he was self-possessed
and courteous, appearing like a gentleman accustomed
to polished society. De Soto was much impressed
by his appearance and princely manners. He received
him with the utmost kindness, made him several valuable
presents, and dismissed him with friendly messages
to his father, stating that he cordially accepted
of his friendship, and would shortly visit him.
De Soto then crossed the river Tuscaloosa,
or Black Warrior, having first taken an affectionate
leave of the Cacique of Coosa, who had accompanied
him to this frontier river. A journey of two days
brought the Spaniards to within six miles of the large
village where the chief of Tuscaloosa was awaiting
their arrival. As they reached this spot in the
evening, they encamped for the night in a pleasant
grove. Early the next morning De Soto sent forward
a courier to apprise the chief of his arrival, and
set out soon after himself, accompanied by a suitable
retinue of horsemen.
The chief had, however, by his own
scouts, kept himself informed of every movement of
the Spaniards. He had repaired with a hundred
of his nobles, and a large band of warriors, to the
summit of a hill, over which the route of the Spaniards
led, and which commanded a magnificent prospect of
the country for many leagues around. He was seated
on a chair of state, and a canopy of parti-colored
deerskin, very softly tanned, and somewhat resembling
a large umbrella, was held over his head. His
chief men were arranged respectfully and in order
near him, while at a little distance his warriors were
posted in martial bands. The whole spectacle,
crowning the smooth and verdant hill, presented a
beautiful pageant.
The Cacique was about forty years
of age, and of gigantic proportions, being, like his
son, nearly a head taller than any of his attendants.
He was well-formed, and his countenance indicated perfect
self-possession, intelligence, and great firmness.
The sight of the cavaliers approaching with their
silken banners, their glittering armor, and bestride
their magnificent steeds, must have been astounding
in the highest degree to one who had never seen a quadruped
larger than a dog. But the proud chief assumed
an air of imperturbable gravity and indifference.
One would have supposed that he had
been accustomed to such scenes from his childhood.
He did not deign even to look upon the horsemen, though
some of them endeavored to arrest his attention by
causing the animals to prance and rear. Without
taking the slightest notice of the cavaliers who preceded
De Soto, his eye seemed instantly to discern the Governor.
As he approached, the chief courteously arose, and
advanced a few steps to meet him. De Soto alighted
from his horse, and with Spanish courtesy embraced
the chieftain, who, with great dignity, addressed
him in the following words:
“Mighty chief, I bid you welcome.
I greet you as I would my brother. It is needless
to talk long. What I have to say can be said in
a few words. You shall know how willing I am
to serve you. I am thankful for the things you
have sent me, chiefly because they were yours.
I am now ready to comply with your desires.”
This interview, it is supposed, took
place in the present county of Montgomery, Alabama.
The whole party then returned to the village, De Soto
and the chief walking arm in arm. A spacious house
was assigned to De Soto and his suite by the side
of that occupied by the Cacique.
After a rest of two days in the village,
enjoying the rather cold and reserved, but abundant
hospitality of the chief, the Spaniards continued
their march. The chief, either for his own pleasure
or by persuasion, was induced to accompany him.
The most powerful horse in the army was selected to
bear his herculean frame; and yet it is said that
when the Cacique bestrode him his feet almost touched
the ground. De Soto had made him a present of
a dress and mantle of rich scarlet cloth Thus habited
and mounted, with his towering plumes, he attracted
all eyes. The two chieftains rode side by side.
Their route led through the counties of Montgomery,
Lowndes, and the southeastern part of Dallas, until
they came to a large town called Piache, upon the
Alabama river. This stream they passed on rafts
of log and cane, probably in the upper part of the
county of Wilcox. The expedition then turned
in a southerly direction, following down the western
bank of the Alabama through Wilcox county.
The Indian chief continued proud and
distant; was observed to be frequently consulting
with his principal men, and often dispatching runners
in different directions. De Soto was led to suspect
that some treachery was meditated. Two of the
Spaniards, who had wandered a little distance in the
woods, disappeared, and were never heard of again.
It was suspected that they had been killed by the natives.
The Cacique being questioned upon the subject, angrily
and contemptuously replied:
“Why do you ask me about your
people? Am I their keeper?”
These suspicions led De Soto to keep
a close watch upon the chief. This was done secretly,
while still friendly relations were maintained between
them. It was more than probable that the chief
was himself a spy in the Spanish camp, and that he
was treacherously gathering his powerful armies at
some favorable point where he could effectually annihilate
the Spaniards, and enrich himself with all their possessions
of armor and horses. It was therefore a matter
of prudence, almost a vital necessity, for De Soto
to throw an invisible guard around the chieftain,
that all his movements might be narrowly observed,
and that he might not take to sudden flight. With
him in their hands as a hostage, the hostility of
his warriors might, perhaps, be effectually arrested.
They were now approaching the town
of Mobila, which was the capital of the Tuscaloosa
kingdom. This town was probably situated at a
place now called Choctaw Bluff, on the north or western
side of the Alabama river, in the county of Clarke.
At that point the Spaniards were at a distance of
about twenty-five miles above the confluence of the
Alabama and the Tombigbee, and about eighty-five miles
from the bay of Pensacola. The town was beautifully
situated upon a spacious plain, and consisted of eighty
very large houses; each one of which, it was stated,
would accommodate a thousand men.
As they approached this important
place, De Soto sent forward some very reliable couriers,
to observe if there were any indications of conspiracy.
Early in the morning of the eighteenth of October,
1540, De Soto with the advance guard of his army,
consisting of one hundred footmen, all picked men,
accompanied by the Cacique, entered the streets of
Mobila. Mr. Irving gives the following interesting
account of this important capital:
“This was the stronghold of the
Cacique, where he and his principal men resided.
It stood in a fine plain, and was surrounded
by a high wall, formed of huge trunks of trees driven
into the ground, side by side, and wedged together.
These were crossed, within and without, by others,
small and longer, bound to them by bands made
of split reeds and wild vines. The whole
was thickly plastered over with a kind of mortar,
made of clay and straw trampled together, which filled
up every chink and crevice of the wood-work, so that
it appeared as if smoothed with a trowel.
Throughout its whole circuit, the wall was pierced
at the height of a man with loopholes, whence
arrows might be discharged at an enemy, and at
every fifty paces, it was surmounted by a tower
capable of holding seven or eight fighting men.”
As De Soto and the chief, accompanied
by the advance guard of the Spanish army, and a numerous
train of Indian warriors, approached the walls, a
large band of native soldiers, in compact martial array,
and as usual gorgeously decorated, emerged from one
of the gates. They were preceded by a musical
band, playing upon Indian flutes, and were followed
by a group of dancing girls, remarkably graceful and
beautiful. As we have mentioned, De Soto, and
the Cacique in his scarlet uniform, rode side by side.
Traversing the streets, the whole band arrived in
the central square. Here they alighted, and all
the horses were led outside the walls to be tethered
and fed.
The chief then, through Juan Ortiz,
the interpreter, pointed out to De Soto one of the
largest houses for the accommodation of himself and
suite. Another adjoining house was appropriated
to the servants and attendants. Cabins were also
immediately reared just outside the walls for the
accommodation of the main body of the army.
De Soto was somewhat anxious in view
of this arrangement. It was effectually separating
him from his soldiers, and was leaving the Cacique
entirely at liberty. Some words passed between
the chief and the Governor, which led to an angry
reply on the part of the Cacique, who turned upon
his heel and retired to his own palace. The main
body of the army had not yet come up, and if the chief
meditated treachery, the moment was very favorable
for an attack upon the advance guard only.
Soon after the Cacique had left in
an angry mood, one of the cavaliers whom De Soto had
sent forward to examine into the state of affairs,
entered with the announcement that many circumstances
indicated a dark and treacherous plot. He said
that more than ten thousand warriors, all evidently
picked men, and thoroughly armed, were assembled in
the various houses. Not a child was to be found
in the town, and scarcely a woman, excepting the few
dancing girls who had formed a part of the escort.
The Governor was much alarmed by these
tidings. He dispatched orders to all the troops
who were with him to be on the alert, and to hold
themselves in readiness to repel an assault. At
the same time he sent back a courier to inform Luis
De Moscoso, who was master of the Spanish camp, of
the dangerous posture of affairs. Unfortunately,
relying upon the friendly spirit of the natives, he
had allowed his men to scatter widely from the camp,
hunting and amusing themselves. It was some time
before they could be collected.
De Soto, anxious to avert a rupture,
wished to get the person of the Cacique in his power.
They had been accustomed since they met to eat together.
As soon as the attendants of the Governor had prepared
some refreshments for him, he sent Juan Ortiz to invite
the Cacique to join him in the repast. The interpreter
was not permitted to enter the palace, but after a
little delay, a messenger announced that the Cacique
would come pretty soon.
The Governor waited some time, and
again sent Ortiz to repeat the invitation. Again
the interpreter returned with the same response.
After another interval of waiting, and the Cacique
not appearing, Ortiz was sent for the third time.
Approaching the door of the palace, he shouted out,
in a voice sufficiently loud to be heard by all within,
“Tell the chief of Tuscaloosa to come forth.
The food is upon the table, and the Governor is waiting
for him.”
Immediately one of the principal attendants
of the Cacique rushed out in a towering passion, and
exclaimed:
“Who are these robbers, these
vagabonds, who keep calling to my chief of Tuscaloosa,
‘come out! come out!’ with as little reverence
as if he were one of them? By the sun and moon,
this insolence is no longer to be borne! Let
us cut them to pieces on the spot, and put an end to
their wickedness and tyranny!”
Uttering these words, he threw off
his superb mantle of marten skins, and seizing a bow
from the hands of an attendant, drew an arrow to the
head, aiming at a group of Spaniards in the public
square. But before the arrow left the bow, a
steel-clad cavalier, who had accompanied the interpreter,
with one thrust of his sword laid the Indian dead at
his feet. The son of the dead warrior, a vigorous
young savage, sprang forward and let fly upon the
cavalier six or seven arrows, as fast as he could
draw them. But they all fell harmless from his
armor. He then seized a club and struck him three
or four blows over the head with such force that the
blood gushed from beneath his casque.
All this was done in an instant, when
the cavalier, recovering from his surprise, with two
sword-thrusts, laid the young warrior dead in his
blood by the side of his father. It seemed as
though instantaneously the war-whoop resounded from
a thousand throats.
The concealed warriors, ten thousand
in number, with hideous yells, like swarming bees,
rushed into the streets. De Soto had but two
hundred men to meet them. But these were all admirably
armed, and most of them protected by coats of mail.
He immediately placed himself at the head of his troops,
and slowly retreating, fighting fiercely every inch
of the way, with his armored men facing the foe, succeeded
in withdrawing through the gate out upon the open
plain, where his horsemen could operate to better
advantage. In the retreat five of the Spaniards
were killed and many severely wounded, De Soto being
one of the number.
The Indians came rushing out upon
the plain in a tumultuous mass, with yells of defiance
and victory. But the dragoons soon regained their
horses, which had been tethered outside the walls,
and whose bodies were much protected from the arrows
of the natives; and then, in a terrific charge, one
hundred steel-clad men, cutting to the right hand
and to the left, maddened by the treachery of which
they had been the victims, plunged into the densest
masses of their foes, and every sabre-blow was death
to a half-naked Indian. The slaughter was awful.
Brave as the Indians were, they were thrown into a
panic, and fled precipitately into the town.
In the retreat from the town, about
twenty of the Spaniards had been cut off from their
comrades, and had taken refuge in the house assigned
to the Governor. Here they valiantly defended
themselves against fearful odds. The bold storming
of the place by the Spanish troops rescued them from
their perilous position. But now all the warriors
of both parties crowded together in the public square,
fought hand to hand with a ferocity which could not
be surpassed. Though the natives were far more
numerous than their foes, and were equally brave and
strong, still the Spaniards had a vast superiority
over them in their bucklers, their impenetrable armor,
and their long, keen sabres of steel.
De Soto, conscious that the very existence
of his army depended upon the issue of the conflict,
was ever in the thickest of the battle, notwithstanding
the severity of the wound from which he was suffering.
At length, to drive his foes from the protection of
their houses, the torch was applied in many places.
The timber of which they were built was dry almost
as tinder. Soon the whole place was in flames,
the fiery billows surging to and fro like a furnace.
All alike fled from the conflagration. The horsemen
were already upon the plain, and they cut down the
fugitive Indians mercilessly.
The sun was then sinking; Mobila was
in ruins, and its flaming dwellings formed the funeral
pyre of thousands of the dead. The battle had
lasted nine hours. To the Spaniards it was one
of the most terrible calamities. Eighty-two of
their number were slain. Nearly all the rest
were more or less severely wounded. Forty-five
horses had been shot an irreparable loss
which all the army deeply mourned.
In entering the city, they had piled
their camp equipage against the walls. This was
all consumed, consisting of clothing, armor, medicines,
and all the pearls which they had collected. The
disaster to the natives was still more dreadful.
It is estimated that six thousand of their number
perished by the sword or the flames. The fate
of the chieftain is not with certainty known.
It is generally supposed that he was slain and was
consumed in the flames of his capital.
The situation of the Spanish army
that night was distressing in the highest degree.
They were hungry, exhausted, dejected, and seventeen
hundred dangerous wounds demanded immediate attention.
There was but one surgeon of the expedition who survived,
and he was a man of but little skill.
De Soto forgot himself and his wound
in devotion to the interests of his men. Foraging
parties were sent in all directions to obtain food
for the sufferers, and straw for bedding. Here
the army was compelled many days to remain to recruit
from the awful disaster with which it had been so
suddenly overwhelmed.