(Click images to enlarge)

CHAPTER 10     Conquistadors and a Princess  A.D. 1450 to 1600: The Transition Era

While only one ceremonial mound was excavated in the Russell investigations, there were others spread out along the Savannah River and its tributaries. The elite at these various mound centers wielded considerable power over the Mississippian people, but, like the Beaverdam Creek Mound, many of these centers were abandoned for reasons that can only be conjectured.

A few of the mound centers began functioning earlier than the one near Beaverdam Creek; others existed closer to the time of the reservoir mound; while still others flourished later. Perhaps the importance of one center declined and another increased because of the death of a leader or the emergence of a new leader elsewhere who had greater military skill or charisma.

During the waning years of the center at Beaverdam Creek, for example, use of elaborate grave goods may have declined, indicating that the elite became impoverished. A similar reduction of burial artifacts occurred at a mound called Hollywood near Augusta, Georgia. At that mound's peak, notables were buried with such riches as copper plates with figures of men in eagle costumes, a beaker engraved with rattlesnakes, and a smoking pipe with the bowl sitting in a carved human lap.

Just before the entire lower Savannah River area emptied of people, three ceremonial centers apparently dominated-Rembert, near the Russell Reservoir area; Silver Bluff, in South Carolina near present-day Augusta; and Irene, near the city of Savannah on Georgia^'s Atlantic Coast.

Of the three mound centers, the most is known about Irene. Located about 170 miles south of the Beaverdam Creek site, Irene had two mounds, as well as a rectangular building possibly used as a mortuary. There was also a council house, which was about 40 yards in diameter. Early pioneers described both Rembert and Silver Bluff as substantial centers as well, with each having several mounds. But plowing in the mid-1800's destroyed much of the mounds before archeologists could thoroughly examine them. Even so, Rembert still yielded many artifacts.

People departed from all three centers-Irene, Rembert, and Silver Bluff-about the same time, when much of the Savannah River territory was abandoned. There are indications that a wide swath of western South Carolina was deserted then, too. Insight into a probable cause for the exodus came with the discovery of the intensified fortifications for the second village at Rucker's Bottom: Military defenses suggest rising tensions and outright war.

Growing dependence on river floodplains for farming, and increasing numbers of people competing for that land, fueled Mississippian conflicts, thinks Lewis Larson. Larson excavated the major mound site north of Atlanta, Georgia, called Etowah, which was protected similarly to Rucker's Bottom with fortifications.

Indisputably, the population had been steadily increasing along the Savannah River during the Mississippian years; both the number of places in the reservoir area where Indians spent time and the quantity of objects they left behind steadily grew as years passed. Because of the growing population, people could no longer freely rove wherever they liked. No longer could they establish a homestead, and then move easily somewhere else if neighbors settled too close or in some other way were irksome. Long-term claims were now staked on fertile stretches of land; and walking away to avoid a dispute was less of an option.

Jockeying for power and its rewards among ceremonial centers likely contributed to the escalating tensions. Important matters were at stake and worth fighting for because the strength and reach of a ceremonial center's authority influenced followers' access to the best farmland and hunting territories and their ease in using trade routes. And, for some leaders, perhaps ambition flared to rule more subjects and to win more tributes of food and valued objects from them.

Defensive palisades and ditches aside, however, the Russell studies didn't reveal other signs of battle. No burned house sup-ports or singed stockade posts were found, for example. However, since a comparatively small area was examined, more excavations might produce concrete evidence of fighting.

Possibly there were other factors involved in the abandonment of so much territory near the Savannah River. Research by David Anderson and others has recently provided more clues as to what might have happened. Nature, for instance, could have played a detrimental role in residents' lives. Scientists from the University of Arkansas Tree Ring Laboratory studying ancient cypress tree trunks detected a slight drop in average rainfall in southwestern South Carolina during the period. Rain may have decreased enough throughout the region to cause increased crop failures, which would have hit the agriculturally-dependent inhabitants hard. Certainly, the evidence showed that villagers at Rucker's Bottom struggled to feed themselves.

Adding a bit more to the picture of what might have happened was the rise of two important chiefdoms-the Ocute in central Georgia and the Cofitachequi in central and eastern South Carolina. Both chiefdoms became important about the same time that the reservoir area emptied of people. Scientists have also determined that the Ocute experienced a big population jump that could have resulted from an influx of people who formerly lived near the Savannah River. Bolstering this theory was the discovery by Jerald Ledbetter and Jack Wynn of pottery within Ocute boundaries decorated similarly to ceramics used along the Savannah River before the abandonment. But much more research is required to justify the conclusion that reservoir area inhabitants moved into the Ocute chiefdom's territory

A few mound centers at the headwaters of the Savannah, for some reason, continued to be occupied even after most of the river was abandoned. These centers in north Georgia and northern South Carolina remained active even into historic times, when they became Cherokee villages. Among them were Chauga in South Carolina, about 37 miles north of the mouth of Beaverdam Creek; and, nearby in Georgia, Tugalo and Estatoe.

But from those points south along the Savannah all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, people apparently disappeared from all other mound centers, villages, and homesteads. Soon the land was reclaimed by the brush and trees until little remained to suggest that once thousands of people had considered the area home. In fact, the Spanish found the land near the Savannah River so desolate that they referred to it as a desert.

Those inhabitants the Spanish did encounter when they arrived in the sixteenth century may have wished they had gone undiscovered as well. The explorers' appearance led to kidnapping, robbery, disease, and death for many of the Indians. For their part, the Spanish also suffered. Many of them died in battles or from sickness and hunger. Peace was more important to some than others among both the Spanish and the native people. But their cultures were so alien to one another, differences compounded by language barriers, that even those of good will must have been hard pressed to determine friend from foe. Once blood spilled, revenge, hate, and fear easily overrode any restraint.

For the Indians, seeing a Spanish ship appear on the horizon, billowing sails spread like some giant bird's wings, must have been awe-inspiring, a feeling magnified when the passengers aboard came into focus. The metal helmets, favored by some conquistadors, glinting in the sunlight, must have fascinated the Indians. They must have also stared uncomprehendingly at the foreigners' shoes and other clothing, which included heavily quilted material worn as armor. Imagine what they must have thought when the ship reached shore and the Spanish lowered the gangplank to lead off their horses. The Indians had never seen a horse before. To climb on the back of such a creature and force it to obey your will must have given the Spanish enormous power in the Indians' eyes.

If they were afraid of these remarkable strangers, however, many overcame their fear and welcomed the Spanish with gifts and feasting. But their friendly gestures often were rewarded with treachery. The Spanish had braved the dangers of an unknown land to seek great wealth, and some were willing to do almost anything to obtain it.

One of the first expeditions to arrive in South Carolina was directed by such an ambitious man, Lucas Vazquez de Allyon. His conquistadors, who arrived in 1521, gained the confidence of a group of Indians, then invited them aboard their two ships. Once the Indians were on the ships and unable to escape, they were taken hostage. The Spanish intended to sell the captives as slaves at Hispaniola, the island now called the Dominican Republic. But as they crossed the ocean, one ship sank, drowning everyone aboard. Conditions aboard the other vessel steadily deteriorated. The Indians refused to eat the unfamiliar Spanish food, and many became ill and died. Survivors were so pitiable that when the ship finally reached Hispaniola, Spanish authorities set them free. De Allyon, however, kept one slave for himself, whom he took to Europe for display.

De Allyon returned to South Carolina in 1526 with the goal of establishing a colony, but illness and food shortages doomed the effort.

Hernando de Soto was the next Spaniard the Indians in South Carolina and Georgia met, and the results were equally disastrous for many of them. Already rich after participating in the plunder of the Incas in Peru, de Soto desired even more wealth. He was sure gold existed in the land that is now the United States, and gathered around him a formidable army to help him find it.

His entrada, as the exploration is called, involved an entourage of more than 600 men, as well as sundry servants and slaves. They brought with them over 200 horses and many pigs. They planned to butcher the swine as needed for food. Massive Irish wolffiounds accompanied the explorers to serve a more sinister purpose.

De Soto's army landed at Tampa Bay in "La Florida" in 1539. They fought many skirmishes with Indians along the way, before finally arriving near Tallahassee, where they spent the winter, continuing to battle Indians and finding no gold. In the spring, they set out for Georgia, led by Florida Indians, including a boy of 17 named Perico. Guiding de Soto was a perilous job, because if he became displeased he unleashed the wolfhounds. Trained to be vicious, the beasts would maim or kill the offending guide.

Perico was perhaps less vulnerable to such treatment because of his value as a translator. He spoke a language that a Spaniard who served under de Soto understood. When the explorers encountered a new group of Indians, Perico was often summoned to talk with them, then to translate for the Spaniard who conveyed the information to de Soto.

Sometimes a chain of Indian translators was used, passing along ideas in dif ferent languages until they could be translated into a language understood by the Spaniard. Doubtlessly, meaning was lost and misunderstood in the mix of tongues, but Perico was important nonetheless. It was he who triggered the march north when he told de Soto of gold he could find towards the east among a people he called the Yupaha.

Perico claimed to have traveled widely with traders, and that he had once lived with the Yupaha, whose leader, he said, was a woman, a chieftainess. Yupaha was apparently another name for the Indians of Cofitachequi, the second important chiefdom that arose in South Carolina at the same time as the Ocute in Georgia. Historians have determined that the two chiefdoms were enemies.

Much is known about de Soto's travels because several participants recorded the details, including Rodrigo Ranjel, secretary to the Spanish leader. Prehistory, the time when there were no written records, was coming to a close. With the arrival of the Spanish and their writing, history in theSoutheast began to be recorded.

The route historians think de Soto followed has recently undergone revisions as a result of work by Charles Hudson, Chester DePratter, and Marvin Smith, among others. Their research has also synthesized much of what we know about de Soto. Their assessment of de Soto's route, though not universally accepted, differs from earlier judgments that the entrada passed close to the Russell Reservoir; in their view, the area was bypassed.

Whatever their exact path, the Spaniards' incursion into Georgia and South Carolina had such impact that the effects reverberated for miles. From all accounts, de Soto was a brutal man. Unlike some of his countrymen who traded with the Indians for food and other needs, de Soto used force and intimidation to get what he wanted. He needlessly burned many villages and often humiliated the chiefs, enslaving them and forcing them to accompany him as a guarantee of safe passage. He demanded women for his soldiers, and bearers for supplies, and ordered these slaves bound in chains to prevent their escape. As a final reminder of his conquest, he planted Christian crosses atop the Indian's sacred ceremonial mounds.

Soon after de Soto entered south Georgia, he encountered a swollen river, probably the Flint, which had to be crossed. The effort took days. The men built a barge, which they pulled back and forth across the raging water by using a chain tethered on the banks of both sides. The chain was made up of many smaller chains, which were normally used to bind the Indians. Twice this makeshift device came undone, endangering many lives. Eventually, however, the entire party of soldiers and attendants reached the other side.

Traveling north, they reached central Georgia by the end of March, near where Macon is today. From there, they continued northeast, finding a mound center near present-day Milledgeville. The leader of this settlement was aligned with the powerful chief Ocute, the strongest authority for miles. Ocute lived north along the Oconee River between Milledgeville and Madison. De Soto sent word for this great chief to meet him, and Ocute complied. Then the two men and their followers traveled together along the Oconee River until they reached Ocute's headquarters. The remnants of those headquarters may exist at one of several archeological sites, possibly at a place called Shoulderbone, which has five mounds, one of them 40 feet tall. Some experts think that the descendants of those who once lived in the Russell Reservoir area were among Ocute's followers.

Supplied by Ocute with food and bearers, de Soto this time left a cross in the chief's village plaza, not on a mound, when he departed.

The Spanish army was again travelling northward, still seeking the promised gold of Cofitachequi, when the Indian guide Perico suddenly fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth. The frightened Spanish held an exorcism to rid the boy of the evil spirit they thought possessed him. Perico recovered, but soon a greater calamity befell them all.

The boy said they would find the land of gold just four days away to the east. But others among the Indians warned that nothing but unoccupied land existed in that direction, and any who risked the journey would starve. De Soto chose to believe Perico. Patofa, an Ocute war chief, and his warriors joined the Spanish for the trip east. (Indians often had separate chiefs for war and peace.) Patofa and his band hoped to win revenge against their enemies, the Cofitachequi, and de Soto must have welcomed them, thinking they could help him find the elusive gold belonging to their foes.

But Patofa and his warriors were little help in finding either their enemies or gold. Four arduous days passed in a forbidding land the Spanish derided as "the desert of Ocute," with no sign of the Cofitachequi. Food quickly ran short, just as they had been warned it would. Things worsened on the fifth day when they reached the Savannah River, which they called "un grandisimo rio." If they were to continue their search for gold, they had to ford the river. The horsemen probably crossed south of the Russell area near Augusta, where the river divided and swept around an island. Stepping stones here and there eased the way, but the water was so deep in some places that it reached the horses' stirrups and saddlebags. Currents were also swift, and swept away and drowned some of the pigs the soldiers drove along beside them. Foot soldiers struggled their way across farther north after tieing themselves together in a human chain 30 to 40 feet long.

By the time everyone reached South Carolina on the other side, their situation was desperate. They had to find food. De Soto commanded everyone to speed up to double time, until they were covering nearly 30 miles a day, compared to the usual 17. They met more rivers swollen by spring rains and had to stop and again expend precious energy to build barges for crossing.

By late April, nine days after leaving the last Ocute village, they reached the juncture of the Saluda and Broad Rivers where they converge into the Congaree River, near present-day Columbia, South Carolina. Unknowingly, they had reached the outskirts of the Cofitachequi territory; Perico was right after all, even if he had sorely miscalculated the distance. Unaware of how close they were to the chiefdom, the Spanish were hopelessly lost, and found only a few hunting or fishing shacks. De Soto by now realized that the Ocute war chief, Patofa, had no idea where to find his enemies. The conflicts between the two chiefdoms, unlike the battles familiar to Buropeans, had apparently consisted mostly of skirmishes involving hunting bands in buffer zones between the two territories, not outright invasions.

Rain continued to raise rivers and creeks as the soldiers floundered for several more days. Finally, on April 25, a scout returned with word of finding a village called Aymay. The expedition soon reached the village after struggling nearly 130 miles since leaving the last Ocute settlement. Aymay, where the Spanish found enough corn to sustain them for a time, was under the dominion of the Cofitachequi, who controlled great sweeps of land in South Carolina, perhaps virtually the entire eastern half, as well as parts of North Carolina. Their leader was a woman who inspired deep loyalty, even unto death. At least one of her followers at Aymay refused to tell de Soto the woman's location or any other information about her, even when de Soto tortured and burned the man to death.

The Ocute war chief, Patofa, and his band engaged in similar behaviors, raiding several villages, looting and desecrating temples, and killing and scalping everyone they could find. Then they left for home, parting company with the Spanish, their taste for revenge sated.

De Soto eventually found his way to the outskirts of the Cofitachequi power center near present-day Camden, South Carolina. He camped alongside a river, likely the Wateree, and sent emissaries across to secure canoes for his crossing, as well as translators. Soon, the Lady of Cofitachequi-the chieftainess or a relative, accounts vary-crossed over to welcome him. The spectacle was described in detail by de Soto's secretary Ranjel:

When de Soto asked to see their fine metals, the Indians obligingly produced copper and large pieces of mica, but no gold or silver. The Spaniard refused to believe no gold existed among the Cofitachequi, and led his men to search the chiefdom's sacred town. Called Talimeco, this once thriving settlement of 500 houses was deserted, perhaps because of plague. The Indians told the Spanish that disease had swept through their people two years earlier, causing them to abandon several settlements. Not all experts agree, however, that a recent plague had prompted the desertions, but think that the towns were abandoned much earlier.

De Soto and his soldiers climbed the temple mound where a large building stood beneath a high roof encrusted with strings of pearls and conch shells. They walked through an entrance guarded by six pairs of wooden, life-size human statues. Fach statue pair held a different set of weapons, as if ready to attack intruders. Overhead, the ceiling was studded with more pearls and shells similar to those decorating the outside.

More statues of men and women were found farther inside the temple, while along the walls, there were ornate chests holding the skeletal remains of former leaders. Other chests brimmed with freshwater pearls, furs, and animal skins. Adjoining rooms disclosed still more treasures-ceremonial weapons adorned with strings of pearls and strips of leather and copper. But no gold.

De Soto and his followers stole as much as they could carry, then abducted the Lady of Cofitachequi as insurance against attack before setting out northward away from her territory. They traveled for about two weeks, moving into the high mountains near Asheville, North Carolina. Then, on a cold May day, the Lady of Cofitachequi managed to escape, taking with her a box of the finest pearls de Soto and his men had stolen from the sacred temple.

De Soto pressed on in his fruitless search for gold for some months more, climbing through the mountains of North Carolina and into northwest Georgia, then crossing into Alabama. He continued kidnapping Indian leaders along the way, a tactic that usually prevented attack, but not always. Thousands of Indians mounted a surprise assault against the Spanish in south central Alabama as de Soto's caravan approached the gates of Mabila, a well-fortified Indian settlement. Mabila's stockade fence supported a series of towers 50 feet high. In every tower, there were seven and eight Indians who unleashed their arrows against de Soto's army.

The startled Spanish were successfully repelled outside the gates. Nevertheless, their weapons-thick, quilted armor and especially their horses-gave them advantages that even an almost suicidal Indian attack, which the fight eventually became, could not defeat. Arrowheads would not penetrate the Spaniard's protective coverings, so the Indians had to hit the soldiers' heads and necks to kill them, and even the fleetest Indian attacker couldn't outrun a horse. Knowing this, the Indians tried to kill as many of the animals as they could, managing to destroy about 40.

The bloody fight raged for hours, with heavy casualties. Estimates range from 2,500 to 5,000 dead among the Indians, and 20 Spaniards. Almost all of de Soto's troops were injured, and 20 more died later from battle wounds. The Spanish also suffered other losses: All of the booty plundered from Cofitachequi and elsewhere was gone, as well as much of their food and other supplies, including clothing.

Still, De Soto persisted, trying to salvage some value from his costly venture as he pushed back north. But after Mabila, his army was subjected to frequent Indian attacks, many of them at night. De Soto finally lost his relentless drive and became despondent. He caught a fever, which led to his death in May 1542, on the western side of the Mississippi River.

For four years, de Soto's army had all but fruitlessly explored the interior regions of the Southeast. After they departed, the area remained largely unvisited by Europeans for the next 150 years. During this time, the powerful Mississippian chiefdom societies, which once had existed throughout the region, collapsed, primarily from disease and other stresses introduced by the early explorers. There were a few other European visitors not long after de Soto, primarily Spanish and French pioneers who tried with little success to colonize or establish Catholic missions along the coast of Georgia and South Carolina.

Within the Russell area, however, for decade after decade, the only human life present came when Indians entered to hunt. Nobody claimed the land for a long, long while-but the British were coming.

Chapter 11: Land of Promise

Return to the Table of Contents