American Indian Culture and Research Journal

Seventeenth-century Florida, like Chile, was a colony known for constant war, and unlike that other distant outpost, Florida had two borders and two seacoasts to defend, plus a declining Christian Indian population and the competition of English colonists for the trade and loyalty of the Indian nations. Between 1680 and 1706 the hinterland succumbed to tribes armed from Carolina, and the Spanish presence was reduced to St. Augustine. The native inhabitants all but disappeared. Scrub oak and palmetto grew over the wooden council houses and the ashes of churches and forts; Virginia creeper covered the cannons. Fruit trees and horses, cattle and hogs reverted to the wild. In the eighteenth century Lower Creeks from the Southeastern highlands drifted into the empty peninsula to interbreed with runaway blacks and become the Seminoles. Only an archaeologist can detect the signs of a life that once was: the elevated bed of an old road, or a rectangular patch of reddish earth where a clay-daubed convent burned. One Hispanic Indian who should not fade into oblivion was the chief Patricio de Hinachuba. In the rough waters of the times he steered a daring and dangerous course, balancing Spanish factions, Indian rivalries, and even English attackers to get the best terms for his province, Apalache, and his town, Ivitachuco. This noble was a devout son of the Church who did not let the friar run his town, a brave captain who fought no unnecessary battle, and a loyal supporter of the Crown whom the Spanish could not take for granted. Feinting and dodging like a player on the Ivitachuco peiota team, don Patricio never lost his head and never forgot his priorities.