BCH_Pan_1

BCH_Pan_1
Originally uploaded by G N Bassett.

Panorama taken at BCH. Note large Live Oaks.

Fort Caroline, a story of French, Spanish and Colonialization in Florida

493 years ago Juan Ponce de Leon, commanding a fleet of three Spanish caravels, rowed ashore to what he believed to be an island. He recorded the location as 30 degrees eight minutes north
latitude. He had arrived at what we now know as Ponte Vedra Beach, the southern neighbor to Jacksonville Beach, a mere 25 miles (40 km for you metric-types) from today’s downtown Jacksonville. So marked the placement of the first European foot on continental North America. To this day this region is known as the ‘First Coast.’ This also placed in motion a drama which would play out across religious and national boundaries. Having set foot on American shores, Juan claimed all he saw in the name of King Ferdinand of Spain, and promptly left.

Fast-forward 49 years to 1562. Jean Ribault, a Frenchman and a Huguenot (protestant), landed a party at the mouth of a large river. It being the 1^st of May, they named it the May River (now known as the St Johns River). Meeting a crowd of natives, the Timucuan tribe, the French Protestants made a show of praying to God, pointing one finger upward to show they worshipped one god. The Timucuan, understanding the gesture, are said to have pointed two fingers upward, signifying they not only worshipped the sun, but the moon as well. The French established Ft. Caroline, the first permanent European settlement in what is now the United
States, some 5 or six miles upriver from the Atlantic. This photo looks west by southwest at the reconstruction of the fort on the south bank of the St Johns River. Stay tuned tomorrow and we’ll discuss how unsettling this was to Spanish interests. You’re not going to believe…

Jean Ribault’s first trip to Florida in 1562 was a scouting expedition. When his second-in-command, Rene Goulaine de Laudonnierre, returned on June 30, 1564, it was to set up a fort and start the actual colony. All did not go well. The French colonists made poor preparations for food supplies and relied on the charity of the Timucuans. A group of mutinous colonists seized the lone ship and went on a pirating foray against the Spanish in the West Indies. Upon their return Laudonnierre executed four of the mutineers. The Timucuans grew weary of the charity expected of them, largely because nothing was given in return, so the French seized Chief Olata Utina to hold as ransom. Several French were killed in the struggle, and the enmity of the Timucuan toward the French reached a new high. Enough!

The French began demolishing some of the homes in the fort for the purpose of building a ship and returning home. Miraculously, an English sea-rover captained by Sir John Hawkins, was making its way up the Florida coast after completing a slave trading mission along the Spanish Main. Hearing of the plight of the French, he sailed upriver to the fort where he generously re-supplied the French with enough goods to see them through their boat-building. August 28, 1565 was the day they would attempt to set sail back to France. In an unusual twist of fate, it was that day Jean Ribault returned to Ft. Caroline with seven ships. Three sailed upriver, the four largest remained at the mouth, too large to go further inland. That night the four French ships anchored at sea were approached by a fleet of five Spanish ships sailing up from the new Spanish settlement of St. Augustine. All these coincidences? It gets more intriguing…

After a brief skirmish at sea between French and Spanish ships, Jean Ribault concluded that preemptive action against the Spanish was the only reasonable course of action. Hadn’t the Spanish signaled their intent a few days earlier by attempting to lure the French ships into a compromising position, only then to attack? Clearly, Spanish intentions were not to be trusted. Ribault gathered all able fighting men and sailed the 30 miles to St. Augustine. Arriving at St Augustine on September 10, the attack was made impossible when the ships were stranded just off the coast in a dead calm. Had Ribault been a regular viewer of the Weather Channel, he would have known it is risky to be at sea off the Florida Coast in September. When the wind picked up, it grew to gale force quickly. Instead of an attack, the French ships were scattered southward along the Florida coast.

One might ask why the Spanish were in St Augustine to begin with? The Spanish King, hearing about the settlement at Ft Caroline through European diplomatic channels, was outraged that the French had settled on land that was Spanish by right of discovery. A royal decree was granted Pedro Menendez to push the French out of Florida by any means. Menendez, arriving off St Augustine the same day Ribault arrived at Ft Caroline, and the same day the French colonists had intended to leave, was a peculiar coincidence to the utmost. Having seen the storm come up and blow the French ships south, Menendez seized upon the opportunity to march the 30 miles overland and attack by land. The bulk of this march was through the torrential rain of
the hurricane.

On the morning of September 27, 1565, Menendez’ men rush into Ft Caroline, which was mostly occupied by older men, women, and children (the fighting men having all left), and began a systematic slaughter of all but 70 women and young children. About 180 French were killed. No Spanish suffered more than a minor injury. Laudonnierre, the leader of the French, managed to escape into the woods. The Spanish had satisfactorily erased the presence of Ft Caroline which was ironically on the edge of abandonment anyway. But this story is a long way from over, more treachery is in store…

After capturing Ft Caroline, Menendez hanged many of those captured. The story spread among the French that Menendez had placarded those hung with a sign reading that he hanged them not as Frenchman, but as Lutherans. Thought it is well proven that this story circulated, it is not well proven that Menedez actually posted this sign. Nonetheless, the story served its purpose by inflaming French passions. But the Spanish atrocities were not over.

Menedez left 300 men at Ft Caroline and returned to St Augustine. French ships caught in the hurricane were run aground or otherwise destroyed. French crews began making their way up the coast toward St Augustine. Meeting a group of French soldiers and sailors at Matanzas Inlet, south of St Augustine, he persuaded the French to surrender, assuring them that their lives would be spared. Menedez required the French to cross the inlet and surrender in parties of ten, presumably so Menendez’ small force would not be overwhelmed. After each group urrendered, they were taken behind cover and clubbed, beaten and stabbed to death. None were spared. A second group of Frenchman arrived and the same ploy was executed, Jean Ribault was in this second group and murdered by Menedez personally.

Meanwhile, the Spanish which occupied Ft Caroline continued with the natives where the French had left off. The Indians, however, were not as easily slaughtered or tricked as the French had been. In time it was too dangerous for any Spaniard to leave the fort. Spanish remained in Florida over the next 18 months, and conditions steadily deteriorated. There were skirmishes with natives, mutinies, and dwindling supplies. Menedez returned to Spain to make a personal report and attempt to reprovision the colony.

One piece of this story remains: the retribution of the French in the person of Dominic de Gourges…

France and Spain were NOT going to go to war over what happened in a remote colony. Besides, France was now governed by those who were not particularly in favor of the Huguenot point-of-view. So it appeared the loss of French lives would go unpunished in spite of a popular up-swelling of anti-Spanish sentiment.

Dominic de Gourgues, a French soldier of fortune, took it upon himself to defend French (and Huguenot) honor. He sold his estate and prevailed up friends for loans and gifts, eventually raising enough to outfit three ships equipped for the purpose of retribution. Arriving at the River May (St Johns) his ship saluted the Spanish posts, as any private merchant might, and so kept secret his intentions. Natives gather to check out any arriving white-man ship. Gourgues approached them, revealed his intentions, and soon forged an alliance. Pierre Debre had been an original inhabitant of Ft Caroline, had escaped Menendez’ attack, and had lived with the natives since. His skill as interpreter was priceless.

The Spanish aside from Ft Caroline, had two other outposts on the river. Detail exists about the flow of the battle, but the bottom line is this: all Spanish were killed or captured, with the Indians gleefully taking part in apprehending those attempting escape through the woods. Gourgues lectured the captives and hung them, placarding them with a sigh which read, “I do this not as unto Spaniards nor Mariners, but as unto thieves, traitors, and murderers,” and so answered the placarding of French by Menedez.

Once the raid became known in Europe, the Spanish demanded Gourgues be handed over. The French government seemed unsympathetic to Gourgues and he was forced to live in hiding. He had, however, become a common mans’ hero of France.

American students are often taught about Jamestown colony, Plymouth Colony, Spanish missions in California, but few know the first significant interaction between Europeans and American Indians and each other (in what is now the United States) was right here in Jacksonville. You may draw your own conclusions as to the brutality of the age. I often wonder what it means that this is our heritage here? Does that spirit of conquest and murder still exist? Hmmm, stories I could tell????

Guana State Park and the Timucuan Nature Preserve

www.FloridaNorthCoast.net
I come at nature from this perspective: growing up and traveling extensively in the eastern United States, I was never far from civilization. In fact, most of my life I have spent in the hubbub of everyday existence. When I discovered that there were yet a few places left that were both wild and natural as well as somewhat remote, I wanted to be in those places.

Guana is such a place. With a dense swamp guarding its northern approach, the Guana river on its eastern edge and the Intracostal waterway on its western side, it sits isolated, unbothered by the hum of the busy northeastern Florida life.

The panorama above is the crushed coral road that leads across a low dam into the entrance of the nature preserve. Beyond are trails and wildlife. Lets go take a look.

Even Guana is preparing for the future onslaught of city dwelling refugees. A new shelterhouse and new restrooms are being built near the parking lot at the entrance. This is where the real trails begin.


Up ahead the trail narrows. Barely visible on the right hand side in the distance is a meadow.

An interpretive nature station sits at the edge of the meadow, offering basic descriptions of what might be seen here.

The difference between a Cracker (native born Floridian) and a Yankee (anyone from anywhere else) is that the Yankee would take a look at this serene meadow and, deciding that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, would cross it in a direct fashion, and in all likelihood would become dinner for an eight foot (2 meters for you metric-types) lizard. A Cracker would walk around.

Now we continue on, crossing the peninsula and arriving at its western edge. Here is a small beach on the Intracoastal Waterway known as Shell Bluff Landing.

The view opens up to the wide expanse across not only the Intracoastal, but the adjacent marsh areas as well. This is a view worth walking for.

We now turn south and make our destination the point where the Guana River on the east flows into the Intracoastal Waterway on the west. On the way we turn inland a bit and come across scenes like this:


These small inland ponds are sanctuaries for wildlife. No doubt there's a 'gator in there somewhere. But today we don't see one.

Its hard to describe the large views that open up along the trail. Here the trail moves along a marsh which abuts the Intracoastal. I offer this panorama as an understated way of showing you how grand the vistas are here.


A total of 3 miles (about 5km for you metric-types) brings us to the point of the peninsula. We pop out of the woods and find ourselves on a narrow beach.

Rounding the corner and looking back, we see the wooded hammock from which we emerged.


Having reached the zenith of the trip all that is left is to hike back the 3 miles or so. But we don't take the same trail. We'll walk back the other side of the peninsula and see what there is to see.

First test post

Welcome to Florida.