University of Virginia Library

36. CHAPTER XXXVI.

At first, nothing could exceed the mutual satisfaction of the
red men and the Spaniards in their commerce and communion.
The latter delighted their simple hosts with gifts of curiosity and
use, which were at once new to them and serviceable. The Indians,
on the other hand, stript their houses and persons, and even
their graves, of the pearls which they possessed in great quantities,
to glut the desires of the strangers. To these gifts were
added others which still further aroused the cupidity of our adventurers.
Bits of gold and silver were mingled with their
spoils, prompting a thousand curious inquiries as to the region
whence they came. When told of the provinces of Xualla and
Chalaque, where the gold grew, De Soto resolved upon the exploration
of these regions also. But he proposed awhile to remain
where he was; satisfied that he was even now in a world of
great mineral treasures. The very appearance of the bluffs of
Cofachiqui, shining with isinglass and mica, led to dreams of silver
ore, which, a few bits found along the shore, seemed greatly
to encourage; and while he remained in this neighborhood, he
actually undertook the prodigious toil of cutting off an elbow of
the river, and turning its water for several miles, in order to lay
bare the bed of the stream for the possession of the precious
treasures which were supposed to pave it. The proofs of this
great labor, pursued with stern industry and a large body of
workmen, for awhile, are still to be found in the canal, shown
to this day in these precincts, and which still goes by the name of
the Spanish Cut. But the Adelantado was compelled, though
reluctant, to dismiss this pleasant fancy, and abandon the painful
labors to which it led. His silver proved to be even less valuable
than lead. It crumbled away at his touch. Better accounts
reached him from the interior; accounts which we now know to
have been strictly true.

Meanwhile, the pleasant relations between the red men and
the white underwent a change. The Spaniards soon began to
show the simple natives the sterner aspects of their character.
Their eager, grasping, despotic temper, began to manifest itself,
as they grew more confident in their position, and more familiar

with the people. Violence took the place of kindness. In wanton
mood, in mere levity, the intruders usurped the possessions
of the savages, defiled their women, and brutally assailed their
persons as their pride. Strife followed, and frequent struggle.
The granaries of the red men lessened under the wasteful demands
of their visitors, and the beautiful Princess herself, who
had been at first so much charmed by the pale warriors,—and
who still craved to be permitted to love and honor—her feelings,
perhaps, being much more interested than her judgment—even
she found how difficult it was to keep on terms with a people, so
avaricious, so tyrannical, and selfish. She looked sternly upon the
Spaniards in general, she looked coldly upon the Adelantado,
whom an equal inflexibility of will and appetite made hard-favored
and perpetually exacting. It was upon the noble interpreter,
only, that she cast always sweet and loving glances.
To him she spoke freely of the respects in which the Spaniards
vexed and troubled her.

“They rob and wrong my people; they destroy their fields;
beat them when they complain, and murder them when they resist.
It is no longer easy to procure the provisions which shall
feed so many mouths. My people grow very impatient. My
chiefs counsel me to expel the intruders; my warriors would
take up arms against them. It remains only that I give the signal,
and the shout of war would rise above the forests, and the
shaft of death would fly from every thicket. But, I am silent,
noble Philip, as they call thee;—silent! I feel for my people,
and I chafe at the insolences of thine. Why am I silent? It is
ecause I would not harm thee: because I would not see thee
depart, Philip.”

Philip beheld her with a sad and drooping eye. What a history
of grief and hopelessness did her tender words and looks recall!

“I am but a leaf in the wind, noble Coçalla; a bubble upon the
stream; a spent arrow, whose course through the air is lost as
soon as made. Think not of me. Persuade thy warriors to
forbearance. The Adelantado will, I think, depart soon from thy
provinces. Better not provoke his anger. He hath a power of
which thy people know nothing: to which they must succumb in
strife, or perish. He hath but little reason to remain here much
longer, and will most likely depart ere the coming moon! Till
then be patient—keep thy people in patience, and let them bring
in good supplies of provisions, that we may the sooner leave thee.”

“But thou need'st not leave Cofachiqui, Philip. Thou wilt
stay here, and dwell in the village of Coçalla. It is a Queen
among her people who implores thee to stay.”

Before Philip could reply, his page Juan, with aspect gloomy
and anxious, suddenly entered the apartment, and after a hurried
obeisance, said—

“Señor, your presence is needed without. There is trouble.
The Indians are arming and surrounding some of our people.
There have been blows already between them, and there is danger
of insurrection.”

“I must see to this!” said Vasconselos. In a few words he
conveyed to the Princess what he had heard from Juan, and
hurriedly took his departure. Juan was about to follow, when
the Princess beckoned him, and throwing a rich robe of furs upon
his shoulders, motioned him to accept it, in a sweet and gracious
manner. But the boy shook the garment from his shoulders, and
with a single glance, of a strange and almost savage sternness, at
the noble giver, wheeled about and hastily followed his lord.

The Princess was confounded at this treatment. She had bestowed
the gift upon the boy as she had beheld his devotion to
his master. It was a tribute prompted entirely by her regard for
the latter. She could not conjecture the meaning of the boy, or
the dark and savage look which he gave her; and the rejection of
her gift, apart from the manner in which the thing was done, was
itself an insult. She expressed her wonder, in her own language,
and hastily summoned her attendants. These had hardly made
their appearance, when one of her grave and venerable forest-councillors
entered also. His brow was full of trouble. He
hurriedly confirmed the report which she had just heard from
Vasconselos, of the difficulty between her people and the Spaniards,
and, anxious about the result, she hurried forth also with
the aged chief, in the hope, by her presence, to quiet the aroused
passions of her subjects.

When Philip de Vasconselos appeared upon the scene of commotion,
the conflict seemed inevitable. The red men were arming
every where, and gathering to the conflict. They had been
goaded beyond their endurance, by the brutalities of some of the
Spanish rabble, had resented with blows an unprovoked injury;
and, unwillingly restrained so long, by the authority of their
queen, it was now apparent that the outbreak would be proportionately
extreme, from the enforced authority which had hitherto
kept in subjection their usually untameable passions. The
warriors had submitted to the presence and the aggressions of
the Spaniards, against their habitual practice, and against their
nature. Fierce, proud, always prepared for, and fond of, war,—
the conquerors of all the surrounding tribes,—how should they
submit to the insolence of this handful of strangers, whom it

seemed so easy to destroy? The moment had arrived, at last,
for the assertion of their strength and independence!

The moment was inauspicious for De Soto. One half of his
forces had been despatched in different bodies, and directions, in
the exploration of the country. Nuno de Tobar was probably
fifty miles off, with a select body of forty horses, on the route to
Achalaque. Juan de Anasco, with a similar force, was away on
another route. So was Gonzalo Sylvestre; so was Andres de
Vasconselos, with his Portuguese, and other knights. The remains
of the army, with De Soto, at the moment of commotion,
were scattered along the river banks, or in the forests, fishing or
fowling. Unless he could quell the commotion without the extreme
of struggle, without absolute violence, he was in danger of
being utterly destroyed. The princess of Cofachiqui could bring
several thousand warriors into the field. It was under these circumstances
that the Adelantado hurried forth, as Philip de Vasconselos
had done, in order to interpose his person and authority
for the prevention of the strife. It was here that he showed the
resources of a good head and a long experience. To the surprise
equally of his own soldiers and the red men, he seized a
cudgel and began to belabor the Spaniards, seconded in the operation
most heartily by Philip, who had reached the scene in
season for this proper, if not pleasant exercise. The princess
appeared at this juncture, and clapped her hands with a sort of
girlish delight, which contributed to the success of De Soto's
policy. The chiefs and sages went amongst their warriors with
words of counsel; and the outbreak was quelled almost as soon
as it had taken place. The red men retired to their woods,
hardly satisfied, but subdued, they knew not well in what manner.
The Adelantado escorted the princess to her dwelling, and
partook of a feast which she had prepared. For the moment
harmony seemed restored. But it was a hollow amnesty. There
were wounds that rankled on both sides, and refused to be healed.
Pride was at work equally in the hearts of the Spaniards and
red men, and passions, of even a worse order, which the artifices
of both only labored to conceal—not overcome.

That night, the Adelantado called a council of his chief officers
at his quarters. Philip de Vasconselos was present with the
rest.

“I have summoned you, Señores,” said De Soto, “that we
may confer together as to the policy before us. You have seen
to-day what is the temper of these savages. For some days past
we have witnessed a rising spirit of insolence among them. They
bring in their maize and beans very reluctantly. With all our

exertions, we scarcely get an adequate supply, and the return of
the several parties, we have sent out, will find too many mouths
for our granaries. The princess, herself, no longer looks on us
with friendly eyes. She treats us coldly; she denies herself,
sometimes, when I seek to see her; and there can be no question
that she looks upon our continued presence with dislike. Speak
forth, Señores; declare your opinions freely, and say what is left
to us in this condition of our affairs.”

There were many speakers, to all of whom the remarks of the Adelantado
furnished the key-note. All were agreed that the queen
and her subjects were changed in temper towards them; that it
was evident they were regarded no longer as grateful guests, but
as burdensome and offensive intruders. But no one suggested
the course of action. They all well knew that, while De Soto
listened patiently to all, he followed no counsel but his own, or
that to which he fully inclined himself. Vasconselos alone was
silent.

“We would hear from Don Philip,” said De Soto, with a smile
which had in it something of a sneer. Philip quietly and
promptly answered.

“There is no question but it is true that these people are tired
of us. We have worn out their patience. We have consumed
their provisions, occupied their houses, controlled and commanded
their labor, enjoyed their hospitality to the full extent of their resources;
and in return, have beaten and despoiled their men and
women, and shown ourselves very ungrateful for all that they
have done with us. For my part, I only wonder that they have
tolerated us so long. The admirable drubbing which your Excellency
administered this day to some of the runagates who have
turned the hearts of this simple people against us, was quite as
much due to justice as to good policy. It might have been well to
have administered a little more of it, and to a score or two of
other offenders.”

“Well, but admitting the truth of all this, Señor Don Philip,”
responded De Soto, rather impatiently,—“the question is, what
are we to do,—how repair the evil—how put ourselves in security
against such mischance as had so nearly befallen us to-day?”

“The question is an embarrassing one, your Excellency,
and, perhaps, were better addressed to some of your older and
closer councillors. The solution of it will depend upon your objects.
Why should we linger here? The silver which we hoped
to gather from these banks of earth turns out a delusion. The
gold, as we learn on every hand, is to be found many leagues

above, and in the region of mighty mountains. You have abandoned
the idea of changing the bed of the stream, since there is
no probability that it will afford a treasure which the banks on its
sides do not possess. Wherefore, then, remain in a region which
promises nothing, and where we have evidently exhausted the
hospitality, with the provisions of its people? Our delay can give
us neither food, nor profit, nor security.”

“True again, but still not satisfactory. There is a subject besides
which we need to consider. If we depart from these people
thus, and while they keep their present mood, we lose credit
among them. They will feel that they have had a sort of triumph.
It will make them insolent. Their runners will precede
us where we go; they will disparage our arms and valor; they
will lose us that authority which makes our progress go without
question; and we shall have to fight every step of our way.”

“We have had to do this already in most cases. In the
country of the savage this can scarce be otherwise. We can
look only to our arms and courage to carry us through. But
where this needs not—where we are received in kindness—it is
scarcely wise to force hatred upon the people that welcome us at
first with love. This is what we have been doing. We have
manacled, maimed, and even burned these people, for small offences,
which, in their ignorance, they have committed. Yet they
have borne with all, through the kindness of their Queen. They
cannot endure starvation. We have brought them to this. Let
us leave them in season, before we have made them desperate;
and carry their friendly wishes with us, if we can carry nothing
better. They have yielded to us all their treasures of gold and
pearls.”

“Ay, but their favor is already lost. They will send us forward
with no good wishes. They will rather send before us
tidings of evil which shall prejudice our progress wherever we
appear. The Princess Coçalla has grown haughty and indifferent,
Señor Don Philip, to all among us, but yourself.”

Philip regarded the savage smile upon the countenance of the
Adelantado, with a quiet, cold, immovable look. He did not
attempt to answer. Don Balthazar de Alvaro now took up the
parole.

“I suspect that few will doubt the necessity of our leaving
this place, your Excellency; and just as few will be prepared to
deny the danger of which your Excellency speaks, from the malicious
and unfriendly reports of these people. We have had
sufficient proofs of their growing hostility. The mother of this
Princess keeps aloof from us, and has eluded pursuit and search.

The young Indian Chief whom we sent to her with a message,
slew himself rather than approach her after he had been forbidden;
and I am sure that we should have lost the favor of the
Princess here, but for the special regard which possesses her soul,
in behalf of one of us. How long this will secure us is a problem
which we shall soon be able to solve, if it be true that the natives
are out of provisions. Now, we are all agreed to depart from a
region in which we shall find famine only instead of gold; and
we are agreed also, that we may have to fight our way at every
step, and get our provisions only at the end of our weapons.
Well, with your Excellency's leave, we are in precisely the same
strait with those great men, Hernan Cortez and Francis Pizarro,
and I see not that we can do better than adopt their policy.”

“What policy?” quoth the Adelantado.

“That of seizing upon the sovereign of the country, and making
her a hostage for the good behavior of her people. This Princess
of Cofachiqui is in your power. Her people hold her in an
esteem little short of reverence. Seize her, keep her in close
custody, under watchful guardianship, and you secure the good
conduct of her people. You are required now to traverse hundreds
of miles over which she possesses acknowledged sway: as
you pass west, if you need to do so, you are told that she is
closely allied to the great powers of the Apalachian, the Alabamous,
the Mechachebe! What follows? The people, in all these
places, obey her decrees, bring provisions, bear burdens, submit
without blows. The policy of Cortez and Pizarro must be that
of Hernan de Soto, if he hopes for like success with these heathen
savages. It is the only policy for safety.”

“And I deem it a base and horrid policy, Señor!” cried Vasconselos,
rising, and speaking with all the warmth of a noble
and ingenuous soul, shocked at the cold cruelty and baseness of
the counsel given. “O! Don Hernan de Soto, beware how you
stain an honorable fame, by the adoption of a policy so shameful,
so shocking, so dreadfully ungrateful. This young Princess
has received you with highest honors, has treated you with unvarying
kindness, has yielded from her stores all that she possesses.
As a Christian gentleman, and loyal cavalier, you cannot follow
counsels which shall violate every trusted virtue, every security
of feeling and of honor.”

The brow of De Soto darkened terribly.

“You employ strong language, Don Philip de Vasconselos;
but you may have special reasons for doing so. You, at least,
would seem to owe special favors to this dusky Princess.”

The pale cheeks of Philip reddened, but he was silent. The
Adelantado proceeded:

“But our obligations are general only, and shared with all the
chiefs of my army. You hear how they express themselves, and
what they counsel. In great necessities, nice scruples are vicious
impediments, and we may not apply to great embarrassments, the
principles we submit to when the currents of life flow smoothly
on as we would have them, under ordinary laws. I hold the
counsel of Don Balthazar to be the only means of escape and
progress in this our emergency. It is our necessity, which we
cannot escape.”

“O! say not so, your Excellency—” began Philip de Vasconselos,
but the truncheon of the Adelantado came down heavily
upon the table,—and he thundered out—

“We have decided, gentlemen—we are resolved—the council
is dissolved. We shall see to these things with early morning.
Be you each prepared, in armor, to second all my orders.”

The council dispersed, each to his own quarters, all leaving the
Adelantado, except Don Balthazar, who had other matters to
insinuate when he did not counsel. Philip de Vasconselos, grieved
to the heart, retired to his lowly lodgings, where he sat down to
his silent supper, of which he scarcely ate, attended by Juan in
silence.

“O! boy, boy!” he exclaimed, suddenly—“thou little knowest,
boy,” he proceeded—“but if the heart of woman be incurably
false, that of man is terribly base! If her heart be weak
as water, his is more hard and unfeeling than the pitiless rock.
I am sick, Juan, very sick of all things that live!”

And the supper was pushed away; and the knight threw himself
on his couch of reeds and brush, under the roof of his simple
Indian lodge which had given him shelter, and he felt to what a
base use his ruler had put all the benefits of the simple and confiding
red men, and their sweet and lovely sovereign. And Juan
lay between two rustic pillars, in the shade, half watching the
words of his master all the while. And he drowsed while watching:
but Philip slept not. He could not sleep because of too
much thought, and long after midnight he arose, and he muttered
to himself—

“It shall not be! I will prevent this dreadful treachery!”

And he stole forth even as he spoke, carrying his sword beneath
his arm, and he made his way, amidst the dim woods,
guided only by the starlight, and certain scattered fires of the
village, until he was lost in the thickets that lay between the

Spanish encampment and the grounds which environed the
abode of the Princess. He knew not that the only half-sleeping
Juan, aroused by his exclamation, had started to his feet, and
caught up a weapon also, and was following stealthily upon his
footsteps.