Makers and Romance of Alabama History Part 26

Turning the matter over in his mind, DeSoto finally resolved on a desperate course. He had been planning to found a Spanish settlement in this particular region, and had gone so far as to send an Indian agent to Ochus, where the plans of colonization were being arranged. Goaded to the extreme of desperation, he proposed to make a bold show of authority and force. It was now just a month since the battle, and all his men had so far recovered from their wounds that they were again able to take up the line of march. Reserving his plan to himself, on the morning of November 18, he suddenly issued an order to get ready to move at once. His men did not know what direction he would go, but to their astonishment, he turned northward. He accompanied his order with a threat to kill any man who undertook to disobey. This was quite unusual, indeed, nothing like it had before occurred, and it took the men quite off their guard. Before the troops could confer or consult, every man was in his saddle and strung out on the line of march. By this means DeSoto surprised the men instead of their surprising him. He was really without authority in a step so arbitrary. The expedition was entirely voluntary, but DeSoto saw that unless he could by a single stroke, shatter the rising revolt, he should be totally undone.

Giving up the idea of a colony, DeSoto moved toward the northwest, beyond the confines of the present County of Clarke, and through the territory of Marengo and Greene, as they now are, and, after five days, reached the Black Warrior River about where the village of Erie now is. Here he encountered resistance. The news of the disaster at Maubila had spread to the remotest settlements, arousing the Indians to vengeance, and at Erie, they appeared 1,500 strong, painted, and bearing clubs and bows. As though nothing was before them, the Spaniards moved steadily on, the Indians falling back, while they filled the air with their arrows. On reaching the river, the Indians in haste filled their waiting canoes and rowed rapidly across, and such as could not find place in the boats, plunged in and swam the stream. On the opposite side, the Indians met a large reinforcement that had gathered to dispute the pa.s.sage of the river by DeSoto. The Spaniards began leisurely to fortify, giving but slight heed to the wild demonstrations on the opposite side, which the Indians observing, quietly dispersed and disappeared, save a number who were left to watch the object of the Spaniards.

Detailing a hundred men to cut timbers and construct rafts, DeSoto quietly rested till the arrangements were complete, when he began to cross with his force, giving no attention to the showers of arrows from the foe.

Struck by his cool determination, the Indians fled precipitately.

No region before entered, had so impressed DeSoto, as this one. He was charmed by its natural grandeur. The late dry fall had enlivened the autumnal scenery, the gra.s.s was still green, which, together with the flaming foliage of the forests, lent magnificence to a wide scene. The soil was of a deep black, and the surface somewhat rolling, the billows of green and the delicious color of the engirdling woods, affording a view lovelier than any he had ever before witnessed. The troop was now pa.s.sing through the upper part of Greene County, where it borders on Pickens.

Five days more brought the Spaniards to the bank of the Little Tombeckbe.

The Spaniards were impressed by the fact that in proportion to the fertility of the country, was a spa.r.s.eness of population, the explanation being that the Indian detests prairie mud, making his home on the uplands, and descending to the fertile plains only to replenish his store of meat.

Again at the Little Tombeckbe, the Indians appeared in hostile array, and DeSoto, eager to avoid battle, sent a friendly Indian across the stream to negotiate terms of peace. Him they slew within sight of the Spaniards, and then strangely fled to the woods, and DeSoto crossed without further interruption. He was now on the eastern border of Mississippi, but the final act of the tragedy was yet to come.

THE CLOSING SCENE

Though we have followed the daring and das.h.i.+ng DeSoto to the western confines of the state, the story would be incomplete without a record of the closing scene of his career. His life was thrilling in incident, even to the end. Entering the territory which long afterward came to be called Mississippi, DeSoto found it the most fertile and prosperous of the regions yet visited. Thriving Indian towns abounded with evidence of the most advanced Indian civilization he had yet met.

Though delayed, winter at last set in with unusual severity, and DeSoto decided to spend the cold season in that quarter. He was eager for the good will of the inhabitants, and sought by every possible means to gain it. Foraging over the country, his men would return with supplies, and always with prisoners. These DeSoto would liberate with much show of kindness, and dismiss them with presents to their chief. This would surprise the prisoners, and more the chiefs themselves. This resulted in bringing to his camp the chief of the Chickasaw tribe, the fiercest and most warlike of all those on the continent, and notably the most advanced.

This chief, not to be outdone by the kindness of the Spaniard, brought as a present, one hundred and fifty rabbits, besides four mantles of rich fur. Nor did he cease with a single visit, but came again and again and chatted with DeSoto with unrestrained familiarity around his camp fire.

The Indian was studiously diplomatic, and after several visits, disclosed to DeSoto that he had a certain rebellious subject whom he wished the Spaniard to subdue for him. This task, the chief further disclosed, was one attended with such complications as to prevent his action in the matter, and yet if DeSoto would intervene with sternness, the chief would see to it that it would not be forgotten.

DeSoto sent his men against the rebellious subaltern, burned his village and forced him to sue for terms with the chief. On occasion, when the chief would spend a few hours with him, DeSoto would send him home on one of his finest horses, much to the delight of the savage. But a strain came in their relations when after the fight with the insubordinate Indian, those of the tribe who had accompanied DeSoto's men back to camp were served with savory and toothsome bits of pork. The Indians had never before tasted swine meat, and they were so delighted, that they showed their appreciation by several nightly visits to the pig pens, and by a stealthy appropriation of some of the choicest rooters. DeSoto was willing to divide, but protested against his pig sties becoming the prey of nightly marauders. His men lay in wait for the red rogues, who caught three, two of whom they killed, and in order to advertise a warning to future offenders, cut off the hands of the third at the wrist, and set him free. This was one exception to the rule working both ways. The Spaniards had never scrupled to steal from the Indian, or to take, by force, whatever might please them, but so soon as somebody's else ox was gored, the rule of roguish reciprocity ceased its operation. The standard of the Spaniard was, might makes right. An early spring came with its balminess, its singing birds, and first blossoms, and DeSoto was actuated to move onward, and yet he was reluctant to quit the ease of so many months. He was worn down by the strain to which he had so long been subjected. He sought to rally himself, but his gait had lost much of its elasticity, his eye was not so l.u.s.trous, and the stylus of care had marked deep crowfeet on his brow. Whatever there was of n.o.bleness in him, was turned into a sense of sternness. Presuming that he knew the Indian character, he had lost much already, but he proved not to be an apt scholar in Indianology.

He had courted the good will of the chief of Chickasaws, and had been requited by a return of civility, but the Spaniard really had a contempt for Indian character, and contempt always clouds justice, and when exercised, leads often to serious error.

Now that he was about to quit his encampment, DeSoto made a peremptory order on the Chickasaw chief for 200 of his ablest men to become his burden bearers. The Chickasaws were the proudest and most arrogant of the Indian tribes, and rather than be humbled, they preferred death. As allies, they were valuable, as foes, formidable.

On the receipt of the order from DeSoto, the gentleness of the lamb was turned into the wrath of the lion, but the Indian chief wisely curbed his spirit, and sent an evasive answer, not without a dignified phase of manliness, and an expression of remindfulness that DeSoto did himself slight credit by failing to understand the stuff, of which himself, the chief, was made. This was not the first time that DeSoto had encountered men in these western wilds who were wiser than he took himself to be.

DeSoto saw too late that he had turned loose a storm which he might not be able to manage. Moscoso was summoned, told to be on his guard, and to get ready for the worst. DeSoto impressed him with the importance of the utmost vigilance, but Moscoso saw nothing in it all, and continued lax.

Though the trees were budding, and the young leaves were peeping from their coverts, there came on one of the last nights in March, one of those cold snaps to which this lat.i.tude is subject. A cold wind roared from the north, and furiously soughed through the trees. In its suddenness, the Spaniards made unusual preparation for comfort that night, and huddled together on their bunks of straw and dried leaves. The camp was as silent as a cemetery, save the howling of the wind. The fires died down, and the men were fast asleep. Suddenly there came a din of confusion rarely heard, mingled with the howling of the wind. From four different quarters came the sound of the beating of wooden drums, the hoa.r.s.e notes of sea sh.e.l.ls, and the unearthly shrieks of thousands of warriors. When the sleepers awoke, the roofs of dry hay were afire, and the Indians were already in the camp. They had wisely chosen that terrible night for the extinction of the invaders, and on nothing less were they bent. The Spaniards had often had recourse to fire, and the Indians thought they would test its virtue.

Fire-tipped arrows, shot into the straw-thatched roofs had fired them, while the dry wattled cane of which the huts were built, lent loud detonations by the explosion of their joints. The fire-tipped arrows, DeSoto later learned, was by the use of a decoction from certain herbs known only to these Indians as a means of occasioning fire.

Springing from his couch, DeSoto was the first to gain his horse, and a cavalier mounted his own at the same moment. With sword and lance, they spurred their horses into the midst of the host of savages, dealing death with every movement. Half-dressed, the other troopers followed in quick succession, and soon the camp was the scene of a hand-to-hand fight.

DeSoto had failed to fasten the girth of his saddle sufficiently, and by a sudden turn of his horse in one of his desperate sallies, he was thrown hard to the ground, just as he had laid an Indian low. He was speedily rescued by his men, and securing his girth, he fought as never before.

While the fight was at its height, fifty of his men chose the moment as an opportune one to desert, but DeSoto had them brought back and join in the fray. The Indians were routed, but not till forty Spaniards had been killed. This had the effect of welding the Spaniards afresh, and ended all insubordination.

There was no more sleep in the Spanish camp that night. Moscoso was summoned, roundly abused, and cas.h.i.+ered in the presence of the troops, and Beltecar was appointed in his stead. After burying his dead, DeSoto set out on a renewed march, encountered resistance again at Alilome, where, after another fierce engagement, he routed the enemy, but lost fifteen more men, making in all three hundred and fifteen, of the six hundred, with whom he started, and in May, 1541, reached the Mississippi River, of which he is the reputed discoverer. Here he lingered a year, making an excursion into Arkansas, and on his return, was stricken with swamp fever.

His system was ill prepared for this attack, and from the first, he was aware that he must die. He summoned his men about him, restored Moscoso to command, begged his men to be subject to the new commander, and yielded to the last foe--death.

To prevent the possible mutilation of his body, his men hewed out a coffin from the trunk of a huge oak, placed the body within it, sealed it securely and bore it to the middle of the deep Mississippi and lowered it in its current. Thus died this chivalrous son of Spain, and though a monster of cruelty, none in the annals of that ill-fated land was ever braver.

ORIGINAL MOBILE

Following the death of DeSoto, it was one hundred and sixty-two years before another white man was in Alabama. During this century and a half, there was developed such a spirit of exploration as the world had never before known. The new regions of the earth were visited by explorers from a number of European nations, chief among which were Spain, Portugal, France, England, and Holland. The French came to vie with the Spaniards in the comprehensiveness of expedition and exploration, and from Canada, the French found their way to the upper limits of the navigable waters of the Mississippi, and followed it to the gulf.

From their established possessions west of the great river, the French came later to skirt the upper waters of the gulf, and were much impressed by the sinuous character of the long sh.o.r.e front, with its numerous inlets and indentations, its promontories, bays, and rivers. It was by means like these that they first entered Mobile Bay, and finally came to found Mobile. Biloxi had previously been established, and was an important colonial center to the enterprising French of that period. In order to impress the native savage and ward off interference, the French would erect forts of mud, poles, and gra.s.s, which, while appearing formidable to the Indians, they were flimsy and frail. The savages themselves relied on their strong-timbered forts for defense, and they had an idea that those of the French were similarly strong.

Attracted by the beautiful sheet of water known to us as Mobile Bay, the French entered it from the gulf through its deep mouth, flanked on the one side by a long tongue of land, and on the other by an island. Once on the bosom of the bay, its sh.o.r.es were explored, and on the present location of Mobile was erected Fort St. Louis, which was intended as a permanent name, but Iberville, the great sea captain of the French, insisted on calling it Mobile, from the name of the tribe of Indians on the boundary of the territory of which the original fort was built. The name is supposed to mean "paddling."

From its inception, Mobile came to be to the French an important center.

By nothing was Iberville more impressed than by the magnificent timbers with which the forests were stocked. Nothing was more important at that time than heavy oaken timber for s.h.i.+p building, and to the practical eye of the great navigator, it seemed an excellent place for the erection of a saw mill. Later developments of the geographical advantages of the location, led to its adoption as the headquarters and seat of government for this region of the French possessions. Seaward, it was open to the world as a port of navigation.

It was found that the river, on the west bank of which is the location, was like the base of the letter Y, with its p.r.o.ngs, fifty miles to the north, penetrating regions at great distances in the interior, which regions were already populous with Indians, and of fabulous fertility of soil. While, like the Spaniards, the French dreamed of mines of gold, they were not unmindful of the importance of colonization.

One of the first chief cares of these early colonizers was that of winning to their loyalty the native tribes, as an agency against the English, who were equally desirous of the possession of the fertile region. Bienville, the French governor of Louisiana, was ambitious to extend the dominions of his royal master as far eastward as possible, and vied with the English in seeking the alliance of the native tribes. From no point were these natives so easily reached, as from the fort just erected on the swell of land on the western side of this river pouring into the beautiful bay.

Sufficient s.p.a.ce was therefore at first cleared, a stockade was built, a few dingy tents were erected about it, while on the premises might have been seen a few specimens of imported swine, chickens, and horses moving domestically about.

There was, however, lacking one element of civilization, concerning which Bienville proceeded to make complaint to the home government at Paris. The improvised homes were minus the presence of the gentler s.e.x. On receipt of this information, the King of France forthwith instructed the bishop of Quebec to send to the Mobile region twenty-three young women of good families, to become the wives of these original founders. In due time these twenty-three blus.h.i.+ng maidens reached the fort under the care of four Sisters of Charity. Governor Bienville at once issued a proclamation announcing their arrival, and very practically proceeded to place a premium on manly worth, by stating that no man would be allowed to claim the heart and hand of these waiting damsels, who did not first prove himself capable of supporting a wife. The result was a rapid improvement of the manhood of the community, eventuating in another fact, namely, that not many moons waned before every one of the Canadian prospectives became a wife.

These were the first marriage rites, under Christian sanction, ever solemnized on the soil of Alabama. This meant homes, and homes meant the beginning of a new order of civilization. This romantic touch to our early civilization in Alabama is worthy of record.

From that primitive beginning in the wild woods of south Alabama, and from conditions as crude and uncanny as those named, our chief port had its beginning little more than two centuries ago. As a common center of importance, it was visited by numerous deputations of Indians, from points near and remote, skimming with their light canoes the deep waters of the Alabama and Tombigbee Rivers. While this was true, trade was established with the Spaniards as far south as Vera Cruz, and from the region of the great lakes of the north, came French traders to Mobile. While the conditions were such as to excite the most optimistic outlook, there were counter conditions of vexation and of perplexity. These early years were full of anxiety and hara.s.sment to Bienville. In his efforts to conciliate the native tribes, he encroached on the territory of the active emissaries of the English, as compet.i.tors of native alliance, and thus the Indian became a shuttle in the loom of primitive politics between the French and the English. The Indians were incited to lure the French into the interior by false representations, and straightway to ma.s.sacre them. To question their statements, meant unfriendliness, to trust them, meant death.

Abundant trouble was in store for the French governor in the immediate future.

FORT TOMBECKBE

Just above the point where the bridge of the Southern Railway spans the Tombigbee, at Epes station, in Sumter County, may be seen a clump of cedars on a high chalky bluff overlooking the river. This is a historic spot, for here Governor Bienville had built Fort Tombeckbe, as an outpost of civilization. The barest traces of the old fort are left in the slight mounds still to be seen, but it was at one time an important base to Bienville.

By tampering with the savages in the interior of Alabama, English emissaries had occasioned such confusion as to give to Bienville much annoyance. Whatever may be said of the conduct of England in this connection, and it was reprehensible enough, it was at par with that which was done by the French. Both nations took advantage of the untutored savage, and laid under requisition his worst pa.s.sions, in order each to avenge itself on the other. On the part of England, however, this continued much later, and that nation was responsible for many of the atrocities perpetrated on Americans.

On one occasion, two artful warriors appeared at Mobile with every possible show of interest in the government of Bienville, and with extravagant a.s.severations of loyalty to his government. Bienville was responsive to demonstrations like this, for nothing he so much desired as the loyalty which these red men professed. These savages advised the French governor that they had carefully acc.u.mulated much corn at a given point up the river, and if he desired it, they were in position to sell it cheaply. As provisions were growing scarce at the fort, this was cheering news to Bienville, and he promptly sent five men from the garrison to fetch it. Only one of the five returned, and he with an arm almost cut from his shoulder, the rest of the party having been ma.s.sacred.

Bienville was at once impressed that it was necessary to teach the Indians that he was not to be trifled with, and taking forty men in seven canoes, he ascended the river to the scene of the late ma.s.sacre. Finding ten empty Indian canoes tied to the bank, he knew that their settlement was not far distant, and from the smoke seen rising above the tree tops, he was able to locate the village. Hiding his men in the underbrush till night, he crept stealthily to the encampment and opened fire. The Indians were scattered in all directions, and loading his boats with provisions, Bienville leisurely returned to the fort. How many of the Indians were killed in this night attack, was not ascertained, but Bienville suffered the loss of three men. These offensive Indians were of the Alabamas, whom to punish more effectually, Bienville incited against them both the Choctaws and the Chickasaws, promising rewards to those who would kill the greater number. That the Alabamas were effectually punished, abundant proof was afforded by the numerous warriors who sought their way to Mobile to compare the number of scalps which they bore, dangling from their belts. Beads, hatchets, pipes, and ammunition were given the savages in reward for their work of death.

Fort Tombeckbe had been built at the point already designated, which was within the territory of the Choctaws, whose special service Bienville now needed, since the Chickasaws had revolted against him. Meantime they had also become most hostile toward the Choctaws, therefore Bienville concluded that their service could be the more readily enlisted in his proposed expedition against the Chickasaws. In order to subdue the hostile Chickasaws, Bienville proposed a unique expedition which he would head in person. The dominions of the Chickasaws were remote from Mobile, but he would make Fort Tombeckbe the base of his operations, while he would bring them again into subjection.

Accordingly Bienville summoned the garrisons from Natchez and Natchitoches to co-operate with the one at Mobile in the up-country expedition. As it was regarded as a sort of picnic outing, a company of volunteers, composed of citizens and merchants from New Orleans asked to join in the excursion.

Everything was gotten in readiness. Thirty rough dugouts, and an equal number of flat boats or barges, were arranged along the sh.o.r.e ready to join in the diversion of subduing the Chickasaws. In due time, Governor Bienville appeared in gay uniform, plumed hat, and bright sword, and headed the expedition which sailed from Mobile on the morning of April 1, 1736. The day might have been taken as indicative of that which was to come, for never was a body of men more fooled than were these.

There were pomp and circ.u.mstance on this occasion. Banners, trappings, and bunting were galore. Boats, little and large, were well filled, men, young and old, business men and merchants, adventurers and gamblers, idlers and jail birds, men of fortune and men of leisure, rough mariners and veteran soldiers, friendly Indians and forty-five negroes, made up the medley of the expedition. The Indians belonged to the general command, while the negroes were a separate command under a free, intelligent mulatto, named Simon. They shove from the sh.o.r.e in the current. Lillied flags wave and flutter in glinting curve, varied colored banners are displayed, and the incongruous expedition starts. Amidst the yells of the hosts, the cannon booming from the fort, the report of which rebounds and re-echoes along the sh.o.r.e, while the gay and hilarious host shouts itself hoa.r.s.e, the expedition starts. For twenty-three days they pull against the current in their ascent of the Tombigbee. Messengers were dispatched in advance to advise Captain DeLusser, at Fort Tombeckbe, of the coming of the mighty mult.i.tude, and to provide against their hunger by cooking several barrels of biscuits. DeLusser cooked for life, by day and by night, but he had only about two-thirds the quant.i.ty of biscuits needed for the hungry host on its arrival. No trip could have been more laborious, as the barges had to be dragged against the current by seizing the overhanging branches and vines, when possible, and at other times employing beaked rods by means of which, when grappling with trees or rocks the barges were pulled slowly along. All this was forgotten when the fort was reached, and men could again refresh themselves.

"When the sh.o.r.e is won at last, Who will think of the billows past?"

Bienville was much disappointed to find that just before his arrival there had been a revolt at the fort, and the conspirators were now in irons awaiting his coming. The plan of the conspirators was to kill DeLusser and the commissariat, and return to the Chickasaws two men who had been delivered from their hands, and who had been previously reduced by the Chickasaws to slavery. By thus conciliating the Chickasaws, the conspirators hoped to have aid given them in reaching Canada, where they would join the British. Bienville made short work of them, for after a brief court martial, they were marched out on the prairie and shot. The most significant event connected with the coming of Bienville was that of the a.s.sembling of six hundred Choctaw warriors, who had heard much of Bienville and under their leaders, Mingo and Red Shoes, had now come to offer their service. To impress them with his importance, Bienville regaled the warriors with a dress parade of his host, only a part of which knew anything about military evolutions, but where the Indians knew nothing of regularity, the purpose was equally served. With great delight the savages witnessed the drill, and announced themselves ready to join Bienville in his campaign against the Chickasaws, fifty miles away. With his body of five hundred and fifty, and the six hundred Choctaws, and the reinforcements under D'Artaguette of three hundred more, which last body was to join him later, Bienville felt confident of success, but he little knew the character of the foe that he was to meet.