Two Bays, a King, and the Feast of the Assumption

by John E. Worth

© UWF Archaeology and Anthropology

On another August 14 some 462 years ago, the colonizing fleet of Tristán de Luna y Arellano first entered Pensacola Bay, and added two names to the bay that was known to its indigenous inhabitants during that period as Ochuse.  Because it was the vigil of the Catholic feast day of the Assumption of Mary celebrated every year on August 15, the name Santa María was chosen, and because the colony to be established here was intended to expand the realm of King Phillip II of Spain, the name Phillipina was added.  The formal name thus selected by Luna for the bay was Santa María Phillipina, even though the combined Spanish-Native name Santa María de Ochuse was actually more commonly used by the settlers.  However, this was actually the second bay on the northern coast of the Gulf of Mexico to receive the name Phillipina as part of the Luna expedition, the first having been Mobile Bay, which was named simply Bahía Phillipina during a reconnaissance expedition the previous fall.  Sorting out the history of these names can reduce some of the confusion, and provides an object lesson in some of the cultural norms of the Spanish colonial era.

As has been explored extensively on this blog and elsewhere, the Luna expedition was sent in 1559 to found a Spanish colony on the lower Atlantic coast of South Carolina, in an effort to block (correctly) rumored French intentions to do the same.  Planning to reach the Atlantic coast by road from the northern Gulf coast, Luna was directed to establish a first Spanish colony at the deep-water bay known to them at that time as the Bay of Ochuse (Pensacola Bay), originally discovered by Francisco Maldonado during the Hernando de Soto expedition (1539-1543), and revisited multiple times during that expedition.  Many years had passed since the Spanish first frequented Ochuse and its environs, so a reconnaissance expedition was sent in the fall of 1558 to set the stage for the colonial fleet the next year.

Guido de Lavazaris was sent in charge of a reconnaissance expedition that departed San Juan de Ulua (at modern Veracruz) on September 3, 1558 and returned the following December 14.  At that time, the route to Pensacola Bay was apparently only known in reference to a well-known shoal off the northern coast of the Yucatan peninsula on the southern side of the Gulf, called Los Alacranes (the Scorpions), and so Lavazaris took a meandering route across the Gulf that would permit him to sail due north and arrive at or near Ochuse.  Initially landing along the coast of Mississippi, apparently pushed west of his intended landfall at the Bay of Ochuse by strong winds from the east, Lavazaris explored eastward until entering the large bay now known as Mobile Bay.  Finding it to be “the largest and most spatious in all that district,” he explored it extensively, deciding to name it “Baia Felipina” (Bahía Filipina) in honor of King Phillip II of Spain.  However, when he returned to the sea and attempted to continue eastward toward his original goal at Ochuse, “contrary winds” deterred his progress on two separate attempts, after which he returned to San Juan to give his report.

Despite the passage of a poorly-documented second reconnaissance expedition that reported having passed all along the northern Gulf coast while traveling from Havana to San Juan de Ulua, it would ultimately fall to Tristán de Luna himself to choose a name for the bay he would settle on, which Lavazaris had failed to reach.  Following the same meandering route as Lavazaris, Luna’s fleet initially made landfall somewhat east of Pensacola Bay (probably around modern Navarre, Florida).  After taking on water and firewood following their lengthy Gulf crossing, the fleet departed on July 17 westward in order to locate the fabled Bay of Ochuse, with a shallow-draft fragata leading the way along the coastline.  Completely missing the mouth of Pensacola Bay, however, the fleet ultimately found themselves at Mobile Bay, which they recognized from Lavazaris’ descriptions as Bahía Filipina.  The fleet waited while the fragata returned eastward and finally discovered the Bay of Ochuse, some 20 leagues away.  Since 100 of the original 240 horses loaded onto the ships had died during the voyage, during this time Luna ordered the remaining horses ashore at Mobile Bay, sending the corresponding cavalry units to travel overland to Pensacola.

The fleet finally departed Mobile Bay on August 9, sailing eastward toward its original destination.  As reported in a firsthand Dominican narrative published decades later, the fleet finally entered Pensacola Bay on “on the fourteenth of August, on the Vigil of the Ascenscion of the Queen of Angels into heaven.”  Luna himself reported that their voyage ended on the “day of Our Lady of August” [August 15, still celebrated as the Feast of the Ascension] and specifically noted that “on account of having entered on the day that I mentioned, and to use the name of His Majesty, it was given the name Baia Filipina del Pu[er]to de Santa María.”  Based on his own report from Luna, Viceroy Luis de Velasco rendered the name “la Baya de Santa María Philipina” when he wrote to the King in late September (and before he had learned of the destruction of the fleet just five days before).

Ultimately, subsequent documentation confirms that the two bays—Mobile Bay and Pensacola Bay—carried the name Phillipina in honor of King Phillip, but while Mobile Bay was referred to simply as Bahía Phillipina, Pensacola Bay had the added name of Santa María Phillipina in honor of the Feast of the Anunciation, on the vigil of which Luna’s fleet made first entry.  Perhaps for this very reason, the more common name used for Pensacola in subsequent documentation for the expedition was “Santa María de Ochuse,” even simply shortened to its original indigenous name of “Ochuse.”  Moreover, even the reference to “Bahía” or Bay was commonly interchanged with “Puerto” or Port, in deference to the newly-established (if ultimately short-lived) port town located on the Emanuel Point terrace overlooking the heart of the bay.

As a postscript, at some point during the Luna expedition, a new name—Polonza—was also given to the port settlement, and seems subsequently to have been used interchangeably with the earlier name “Ochuse.”  The 1561 testimony of a soldier who had just arrived on the island of Hispaniola after spending two years in Florida makes explicit note that the fleet had originally arrived safely “at the port of Ochuz, which is now called Polonça.”  The origins of this name are presently undocumented.

Parenthetically, it should be pointed out that the modern names of these two bays have no direct connection to these earliest Spanish colonial names.  Both Pensacola and Mobile Bays were later renamed for the Native American groups that were living there during the late 17^th century (Panzacola and Mobila, the latter of which had actually relocated south from their original homeland well to the north).  But Pensacola Bay did indeed retain the name Santa María when it was re-explored in 1693, though with the new suffix “de Galve” in honor of the viceroy of New Spain at the time.  As explicitly noted in the account by Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora, “it seemed just to me not to deprive it of such an august name.”  Only after the Spanish colonial era did the name Santa María ultimately disappear from usage.

References

Dávila Padilla, Agustín

1625    Historia de la Fundación y Discurso de la Provincia de Santiago de México de la Orden de Predicadores, por las vidas de sus varones insignes y casos notables de Nueva España (2nd ed.).  https://books.google.com/books?id=4Fz1SgfwgdkC&pg=PP2#v=onepage&q&f=false

Lavazaris, Guido de

1559    Testimony regarding the Florida expedition, February 1, 1559.  AGI Patronato 19, Ramo 8, ff. 1v-3v.  In Priestley (2010, v.2:330-337).

Luna y Arellano, Tristán de

1559    Letter to the Spanish Crown, September 24, 1559.  AGI Patronato 179, No. 5, Ramo 1.  In Priestley (2010, v.2:242-247).

1559    Letter to the Spanish Crown, [May 1, 1559].  AGI Mexico 97, ff. 37r-38v.  In Priestley (2010, v.2:210-213).

Montalván, Alonso de

1561    Testimony, August 11, 1561.  AGI Patronato 19, Ramo 10, ff. 1r-4r.  In Priestley (2010, v.2:282-301).

Sigüenza y Góngora, Carlos de

1693    Descripcion que de la vaya de Sancta Maria de Galve, (antes Pansacola) de la Movila, y Rio de la Palisada en la costa setemptrional del Seno Mex[ican]o.  Transcript in Historia general de la Florida, by Pedro Fernández del Pulgar, Ms. 2999, Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, Spain.

Velasco, Luís de

1559    Letter to the Spanish Crown, September 24, 1559.  AGI Patronato 19, Ramo 9.  Faulty transcription in AGI Mexico 280, in Priestley (2010, v.2:268-277). 

Selected Basic Sources on the Luna Expedition

Priestly, Herbert Ingram

1928 Historical Introduction.  In The Luna Papers: Documents Relating to the Expedition of Don Tristán de Luna y Arellano for the Conquest of La Florida in 1559-1561, xix-lxviii.  DeLand: Florida State Historical Society.  http://palmm.digital.flvc.org/islandora/object/uwf:46938#page/spine/mode/2up

Hudson, Charles, Marvin T. Smith, Chester B. DePratter, and Emilia Kelley

1989 The Tristán de Luna Expedition, 1559-1561.  Southeastern Archaeology 8(1): 31-45. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40712896

Worth, John E.

2009 Documenting Tristán de Luna’s Fleet, and the Storm that Destroyed It.  The Florida Anthropologist 62(3-4):83-92.  https://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00027829/00207/9j

2018 Florida’s Forgotten Colony: Historical Background.  In Florida’s Lost Galleon: The Emanuel Point Shipwreck, ed. by Roger C. Smith, pp. 34-67.  University Press of Florida, Gainesville.

Worth, John E., Elizabeth D. Benchley, Janet R. Lloyd, and Jennifer Melcher

2020   The Discovery and Exploration of Tristán de Luna’s 1559-1561 Settlement on Pensacola Bay.  Historical Archaeology 54(2): 472-501.  http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s41636-020-00240-w

Santa María de Ochuse, Spain’s First Colonial Settlement on Pensacola Bay, Part 2: After the Hurricane

by John E. Worth

© UWF Division of Archaeology and Anthropology

The devastation wrought by the hurricane of September 19-20, 1559 was massive, wrecking all but three of Tristán de Luna’s ten ships still anchored in the water in front of the settlement, and doubtless wreaking havoc on land as well.  Documentary evidence indicates that loss of life seems to have been mostly limited to the sailors and passengers on the ships at anchor, but  what little progress had already been made on the settlement during previous weeks was certainly set back considerably.  And of course, the most impactful loss was that of the food stores that were still on the ships that sank in the bay, leaving far too few provisions for the combined population of Luna’s entire army as well as the surviving sailors who were now stranded in Santa María de Ochuse.

The entire orientation of life at the fledgling settlement had changed in an instant.  From September 20 onward, the primary concern of most of the colonists at the settlement was finding enough food to eat, though in the immediate aftermath of the storm there was also the added urgency of constructing shelter, along with cleaning up debris and scavenging supplies from the wrecked ships.  The colonists knew that help from New Spain was weeks if not months away, and so in addition to sending ships to Veracruz and Havana for immediate relief supplies, four companies (some 200 men) were dispatched inland to find Native American population centers with potential surplus food.  Two prior companies had been sent north before the hurricane to explore up the Escambia River, but they reported only sparse Native populations upon their return just after the storm, and so this second, larger detachment was directed to push even farther inland in search of the provinces reported by survivors of the Soto expedition twenty years earlier (several of whom were among Luna’s company captains).

In Ochuse, the rest of the army and other settlers continued constructing the new settlement.  Documents from the following year clearly indicate that the royal warehouse and church had been completed, along with houses for many of the expedition’s officials including Luna himself.  And while there is little evidence to say how most of the rest of the expedition members housed themselves, there seems little doubt that any initial “tent city” at the settlement would likely have been severely damaged or destroyed during the hurricane, and so survivors probably constructed at least temporary housing using materials at hand to protect them from the elements.  Apart from the 200-man detachment sent inland as well as the sailors and soldiers sent on relief ships, Luna’s entire army remained encamped on the terrace at Emanuel Point for just over five straight months following the hurricane, making it probable that considerable progress was made on the settlement’s basic infrastructure.  It is difficult to gauge whether the resulting community would have looked more like an incipient Spanish colonial port city or like an improvised shanty town, though it may have displayed characteristics of both, with the core area with its plaza and surrounding administrative district looking more like a formal town, and the surrounding area appearing more like a long-term army encampment.  How this would have manifested in the ground archaeologically is an open question at the moment, but given the coarse sandy soils underlying the high terrace on which the Luna Settlement sits, postholes from such improvised wooden structures may be very difficult to discern after 460 years.

At some point in mid-November, soldiers finally arrived with news from the detachment in the interior, which had discovered a large Native town called Nanipacana in a province called Piachi, situated along the Alabama River some 40 leagues north.  Tenuously friendly relations had been established with the inhabitants of the town, who had fled as the Spanish arrived, but who were still in communication with the soldiers and possessed surplus food.  Not only did this news reveal that Luna’s anticipated route to the Atlantic across the interior was actually on a different river system (the Alabama) than those which drained into Pensacola Bay (the Escambia), but it provided him with an option for feeding the increasingly hungry settlers at Ochuse.  Luna still had to wait for the promised relief fleet from New Spain, however, and in the meantime, he ordered the construction of two small shallow-draft sailing vessels called bergantines, to be used in transporting supplies and people between Pensacola and Mobile Bays and up the river to central Alabama.  The improvised shipyard where these vessels were built was likely on the low ground west of the main settlement, perhaps near the boat landing on the Bay or along Bayou Texar.  How much new wood was cut in the immediate vicinity for these new ships is unknown, but certainly there were plenty of fasteners, fittings, wood, and ballast available from the seven destroyed ships surrounding the settlement.

Chart showing fluctuating population levels at the
Luna Settlement, 1559-1561

When the two relief ships sent by the Viceroy arrived in December, it must have become clear that external resupply could not provide sufficient quantities of food for the starving colony to last long.  Luna waited until the end of February 1560, however, before ordering the bulk of his army to move by land and water to join the 200 soldiers who by that time had been living in Nanipacana for at least 4 months.  This process took weeks to complete, but the Pensacola Bay settlement was not abandoned, simply reduced to a complement of soldiers in guard of the port.  For the next five months, Santa María de Ochuse was home to just 50-70 soldiers and at least a few African slaves.  Where exactly they lived in the town during this period is undocumented, though it seems likely that they may have consolidated to the area around the town plaza near the landing, presumably also maintaining the sentinel posts at the site’s margins.

The travails of Luna’s army at Nanipacana are another story, but suffice it to say that documentary accounts indicate that as Native relations quickly worsened in the interior, many people sickened and died from malnourishment and even as a result of Native attacks.  The soldiers at the Pensacola Bay settlement maintained contact via the terrestrial road that had been opened to Nanipacana, and managed to preserve the settlement until most of Luna’s remaining army returned in July, coincidentally just before the second relief fleet arrived at Ochuse with fresh supplies.  A 200-man forward detachment had been sent far inland from Nanipacana toward the Native province of Coosa in April, and did not return to Pensacola Bay until November.

By the time they returned to Emanuel Point, the size of Luna’s fragmented army was already reduced, both as a result of death and because increasing numbers of the sick were evacuated on vessels bringing correspondence to the Viceroy in New Spain.  The second relief fleet resulted in a flurry of departures, including many of the infirm and others of little use to the expedition who evacuated directly to Veracruz, as well as some 55 soldiers dispatched to fulfil the original order to settle at Santa Elena by sea (whose ship ended up diverting from Havana to Veracruz anyway because of storms), and about a hundred more evacuees who sailed on another ship commandeered in overt defiance of Luna’s orders.  Exactly 362 people were reported to be living at Ochuse (also commonly referred to by the name “Polonza” during the latter part of the expedition) in September, but only around 100 soldiers remained by November, when the 200-man Coosa detachment finally returned to boost the population once again.   The third relief fleet took more evacuees in December of 1560, apparently including the remaining Aztec Indians whose families in Mexico had requested their return, and perhaps most of the remaining families.  By the time a replacement governor arrived the following April, there seem to have been a grand total of perhaps 160-200 men left at the Emanuel Point settlement.  It seems unlikely that during this period between July of 1560 and April of 1561 that any new construction was undertaken at the Luna Settlement other than any necessary repairs or refurbishment to buildings that had been built the previous winter in the aftermath of the 1559 hurricane.

The new governor, Angel de Villafañe, left just one company of 50-60 freshly-recruited men from New Spain under Captain Diego de Biedma to hold the port, and promptly evacuated the remainder of Luna’s men to Havana, where 90 of them volunteered to continue the expedition to reach Santa Elena by sea.  It seems likely that Santa María de Ochuse was once again reduced to a small garrison of soldiers who probably lived in only a small area of the original town, perhaps around the central plaza and the sentinel posts overlooking the bay.  By this time the settlement was but a shadow of its former self, and remained so for another 4 months until orders arrived for the soldiers to withdraw permanently.  When the remaining members of the original expedition arrived in Havana in August of 1561, having abandoned their short-lived effort to colonize Santa Elena on the Atlantic coast, they received word that Santa María de Ochuse had been abandoned, and returned to Veracruz directly via Campeche.

Ultimately, Santa María de Ochuse was inhabited for two continuous years, making it the earliest multi-year European settlement in the continental United States.  At the start, some 1,500 people lived and worked at the site, and well over a thousand continued to live there for 6 months.  But for 9 of its 24 total months, it was occupied by less than a hundred soldiers whose task was simply to hold the port.  After an initial post-hurricane period of continued construction, the town served as little more than a refuge for increasingly desperate soldiers and other colonists whose principal desire (apart from survival) was evacuation to their homes in New Spain.  In the end, only don Tristán de Luna seems to have maintained hope that the expedition could succeed in its original goal despite repeated setbacks, and he was deposed and replaced before the end.  But once the surviving leaders of the expedition gathered with the Viceroy in Mexico City in February of 1562, they unanimously agreed to abandon the plan.  Later account summaries reveal that nearly 435,000 pesos had been spent from the Veracruz and Mexico City treasuries on the Florida expedition between 1558 and 1561, all of which resulted in complete failure.  But just five years later, Santa Elena would indeed become a Spanish port city, twin to St. Augustine, established the year before in 1565 by Pedro Menéndez de Avilés.  Pensacola Bay would not be re-colonized by Spaniards until 1698, but the archaeological traces of the Luna Settlement still continue to fascinate and inform us even today, providing a critical window into a still poorly-understood era in American history.  On the 200^th anniversary of Pensacola’s delivery to the United States, it is worth reflecting on this earliest colonial attempt that set the stage for all that was to come centuries later.

Selected Bibliography

Priestly, Herbert Ingram

1928 Historical Introduction.  In The Luna Papers: Documents Relating to the Expedition of Don Tristán de Luna y Arellano for the Conquest of La Florida in 1559-1561, xix-lxviii.  DeLand: Florida State Historical Society.  http://palmm.digital.flvc.org/islandora/object/uwf:46938#page/spine/mode/2up

Hudson, Charles, Marvin T. Smith, Chester B. DePratter, and Emilia Kelley

1989 The Tristán de Luna Expedition, 1559-1561.  Southeastern Archaeology 8(1): 31-45. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40712896

Worth, John E.

2009 Documenting Tristán de Luna’s Fleet, and the Storm that Destroyed It.  The Florida Anthropologist 62(3-4):83-92.  https://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00027829/00207/9j

2018 Florida’s Forgotten Colony: Historical Background.  In Florida’s Lost Galleon: The Emanuel Point Shipwreck, ed. by Roger C. Smith, pp. 34-67.  University Press of Florida, Gainesville.

Worth, John E., Elizabeth D. Benchley, Janet R. Lloyd, and Jennifer Melcher

2020   The Discovery and Exploration of Tristán de Luna’s 1559-1561 Settlement on Pensacola Bay.  Historical Archaeology 54(2): 472-501.  http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s41636-020-00240-w

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Christina L. Bolte for editorial review.

Santa María de Ochuse, Spain’s First Colonial Settlement on Pensacola Bay, Part 1: Before the Hurricane

 by John E. Worth

© UWF Division of Archaeology and Anthropology

In the year that we recognize the 200^th anniversary of the formal delivery of Pensacola from Spain to the United States in 1821, it seems fitting to turn some of our attention to Spain’s first attempt to establish a port colony here some 262 years prior to that date.  Even though the settlement they established only lasted two years before its abandonment, leaving Pensacola Bay without any European residents for the next 137 years, the physical remains of that settlement were only identified in 2015, and have only recently begun to be explored by archaeologists from the University of West Florida.  After a year’s absence due to the pandemic, this summer will mark our fifth summer field school at the site.

Section of the 1587 map published by Abraham Ortelius, noted to have been
 authored by Jerónimo de Chaves,  son of Alonso de Chaves, both  Spanish
 geographers  during the 16th century (note arrows at "P[uerto] de S[anta] 
Maria"  on the Gulf coast and "P[unta] S[anta] Helena" on the Atlantic coast).

As I have explored in previous blog posts here and here (and see the selected bibliography below), the original plan formulated by the Viceroy of New Spain in response to King Phillip II’s mandate to establish a Spanish colony on the Atlantic coast was to found an initial port city on the Bay of Ochuse (Pensacola Bay) and then march inland to rejoin the same route Hernando de Soto’s army had used to traverse the Appalachian Mountains in 1540.  The first effort in this longer-term plan was the expedition of don Tristán de Luna y Arellano, the core of which was an army of some 500 infantry and cavalry soldiers, most of whom were destined to push quickly inland and across the interior to reach the geographic feature labeled as the “Punta de Santa Elena” on contemporary maps (but which was only vaguely understood based on brief visits by several Spanish ships in the 1520s).  Accompanying the army were up to 1,000 other people, however, including not just the servants and slaves of the more well-to-do officers and soldiers, but also the family members of at least several dozen of them, along with a parish priest and half a dozen Dominican missionaries, and assorted personnel including a doctor, financial and clerical officials, and a range of craftspeople presumably including one or more blacksmiths, armorers, carpenters, coopers, and others.  Many of these craftspeople were actually Aztec Indians native to present-day Mexico City and brought voluntarily on the expedition. Some 100 Aztec nobles were also part of a contingent of “Indian soldiers” who also accompanied the expedition.  And this list does not even include the ship’s officers and sailors of the small fleet of vessels that brought the expedition, some of whom would have remained on hand even had the hurricane of September 19-20, 1559 not left their fleet devastated (stranding most of the survivors).

Once the high terrace overlooking the heart of Pensacola Bay had been selected at some point after the fleet’s arrival in mid-August of 1559, most of Luna’s army and attached personnel would have immediately set about clearing the landscape where the new town of Santa María de Ochuse would be laid out on what we now call Emanuel Point.  The Viceroy had indicated in a letter to the King that the city would have 140 house lots, of which 40 would be reserved for the plaza and public buildings within an administrative district, the rest of which would be allocated to colonists who would settle in the new colonial town.  Based on typical hand-drawn plans submitted for new cities founded across the New World during the 16^th-century, Luna’s settlement would have had a grid of criss-crossing streets laid out around blocks of four individual house-lots, with several streets converging on a town plaza.  Surrounding the plaza would have been a church with an adjacent chaplain’s house, a royal warehouse and offices, and residences for the governor (Luna) and other high-ranking royal officials such as the treasurer, accountant, and factor.  Coastal towns normally had their plazas adjacent to the port itself, while towns in the interior would have had more centrally-located administrative districts.  Archaeological work at the site seems to indicate that the densest concentration of 16^th-century Spanish and Aztec debris is indeed consistent with the plaza and administrative district of Santa María de Ochuse being oriented toward the inferred landing site of the port (and not coincidentally near a small natural spring-fed pond below the terrace).

During the no more than five weeks that the members of Luna’s expedition had to work on clearing and building the new settlement, they doubtless focused initially on clearing the undergrowth and whatever trees they chose to remove within the projected lots and streets, and began the construction of at least temporary housing.  European armies during this period commonly used tents in temporary encampments, and since at least a third of the population were soldiers and officers of an army that would soon move inland, we might expect a typical “tent city” to have sprung up shortly after landing.  But since the goal was to establish a permanent colonial port town, from which the mobile army would be connected to and resupplied from New Spain across the Gulf of Mexico, work would quickly have shifted to building more substantial and durable structures.  Foremost among the public structures to be built was undoubtedly the royal warehouse, where equipment, supplies, and food provisions would be housed under lock and key, for the ongoing use of both the traveling army and the resident population at Ochuse.  A church would also have been among the first public buildings to be erected, providing a suitable space for celebrating Mass.  And residences for the highest-ranking officials would also likely have been begun, particularly those who had brought their own servants and slaves who could dedicate their attention to such structures.  Other public structures that might have been among the earliest constructed were probably a hospital, at least one smithy, one or more bread ovens for the wheat flour brought as provisions, and presumably corrals both for the 120 or so horses that survived the passage to Florida as well as the livestock that was brought for ranching.  Areas would also have been designated for making charcoal (used in braziers for cooking) and butchering animals for food, because these activities would have been needed very quickly after landing.

Since the goal of Luna’s expedition was to establish settlements that would avert anticipated French colonization efforts, some initial attention was likely also given to military preparedness, perhaps in the form of watch towers or sentinel posts, potentially also with artillery emplacements that could provide some resistance to enemy ships in the bay.  One might imagine that such locations might have been placed on either end of the settlement at the bluff overlooking the bay, and archaeologically we have indeed identified concentrations of 16^th-century debris that may reflect such positions.  And while it seems likely that the town might eventually have had a stockade wall constructed around it in order to defend against potential attack from land, the original intent and strategy of the expedition was to approach local Native groups peacefully, establish missions, and engage in trade, so terrestrial defenses may not initially have been a priority (nor are any such fortifications ever mentioned in the documentary record of Santa María de Ochuse).

Would individual houses have also been begun on the individual lots to be distributed to settlers who were planning to live at Santa María de Ochuse?  Perhaps construction would have begun on some of them, particularly for the officers and soldiers who brought their families on the expedition.  But since the majority of the army was comprised of unaccompanied soldiers who were intended to move quickly inland, it seems likely that many of the 1,500 people who initially landed at the settlement would have been living in temporary housing, probably tents or at best simple lean-tos or other temporary structures that could be erected quickly.  This probably would have included at least the 100 Aztec noble warriors, though the other 100 or so Aztec craftspeople might have been intended to remain at the port, and thus may have begun somewhat less temporary housing and/or workshops.  Where would all these temporary residents have encamped before moving inland?  While the documentary record is silent on this question, there is no reason to think that the army would have encamped anywhere other than within the town that was actively being cleared and gridded out in the first weeks.  Once they departed and moved inland, the streets and lots could have been further formalized for future distribution to settlers intending to become permanent residents as the town grew.

All of this planning and initial effort were underway but largely incomplete on the night of September 19, 1559, when “the Luna hurricane” struck Pensacola Bay.  The very fact that most of the food provisions had yet to be offloaded from the ships bears testimony to the as-yet incomplete nature of even the first and most important public buildings to be constructed.  Luna would not risk a years’ worth of provisions on a royal warehouse that had yet to be completed, and so he placed his faith in the ability of the ships and the bay itself to protect the food from storms.  As history would soon demonstrate, that faith was misplaced.  In Part II, we will explore the evolution and history of Luna’s settlement during the two years that followed the devastation wrought by the hurricane.

Selected Bibliography

Priestly, Herbert Ingram

1928 Historical Introduction.  In The Luna Papers: Documents Relating to the Expedition of Don Tristán de Luna y Arellano for the Conquest of La Florida in 1559-1561, xix-lxviii.  DeLand: Florida State Historical Society.  http://palmm.digital.flvc.org/islandora/object/uwf:46938#page/spine/mode/2up

Hudson, Charles, Marvin T. Smith, Chester B. DePratter, and Emilia Kelley

1989 The Tristán de Luna Expedition, 1559-1561.  Southeastern Archaeology 8(1): 31-45. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40712896

Worth, John E.

2009 Documenting Tristán de Luna’s Fleet, and the Storm that Destroyed It.  The Florida Anthropologist 62(3-4):83-92.  https://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00027829/00207/9j

2018 Florida’s Forgotten Colony: Historical Background.  In Florida’s Lost Galleon: The Emanuel Point Shipwreck, ed. by Roger C. Smith, pp. 34-67.  University Press of Florida, Gainesville.

Worth, John E., Elizabeth D. Benchley, Janet R. Lloyd, and Jennifer Melcher

2020   The Discovery and Exploration of Tristán de Luna’s 1559-1561 Settlement on Pensacola Bay.  Historical Archaeology 54(2): 472-501.  http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s41636-020-00240-w

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Christina L. Bolte for editorial review.

Pottery Vessels in Sixteenth Century Spain

John E. Worth

© UWF Division of Anthropology and Archaeology

As noted in a previous blog post (Dining at the Luna Settlement), the inhabitants of the Luna Settlement made extensive use of pottery for a variety of functions and tasks, ranging from storage and transport to cooking and serving food.  The archaeological record of the site is dominated by fragments of broken pottery, including more than 15 kilograms amounting to nearly 2,800 sherds excavated and analyzed as of the start of the 2019 field school (Worth 2019).  While the assemblage of imported ceramics at the Luna Settlement also includes small percentages of Aztec tradition pottery (just over 4% by count and 2% by weight), the vast majority comprises Spanish tradition pottery vessels, including unglazed, lead-glazed, and tin-enameled types.

Archaeologists normally classify ceramics using typologies that work best for what we call “potsherds” or simply “sherds,” which are simply the fragments (a.k.a. shards) of broken vessels.  For this reason, archaeological ceramic types rely primarily on the paste (incorporating clay, aplastic inclusions, commonly called temper, manufacturing technique, firing temperature, etc.) and the surface treatment (e.g. plain, slipped, painted, incised, punctated, stamped, glazed, etc.) of each sherd, both of which can normally be evaluated without having whole vessels.  In this context, 16^th-century Spanish ceramics at the Luna Settlement can be classified into several basic categories.  A minority of the assemblage (9% by count and 5% by weight) is comprised of various named types of tin-enameled majolica (Columbia Plain, Columbia Plain Green Variant, Santo Domingo Blue on White, Yayal Blue on White, Santa Elena Mottled, Caparra Blue, and Isabela Polychrome) along with many other sherds that are too small to classify confidently beyond generic blue on white, polychrome, and plain categories.  A substantial part of the assemblage (43% by count and 68% by weight) is Spanish olive jar (both lead glazed and unglazed), and the rest comprises other coarse earthenwares (48% by count and 27% by weight), including named types such as Melado, Green Bacín, and Orange Micaceous, and a variety of generic redwares and other coarse earthenwares with or without lead glazes that range from transparent to green in color.  All these archaeological classifications fall nicely within the 16^th-century date range of the Luna expedition, and this terrestrial assemblage corresponds extremely well with the assemblages documented on the three Emanuel Point shipwrecks not far offshore.

Apart from their obvious usefulness in establishing the age and cultural affiliation of the sites where they are found, archaeological ceramics can also provide important insights into the range of activities potentially carried out using them, particularly when they are examined from a functional standpoint.  In this way, pottery can be used as a proxy for the kinds of routine activities and practices that took place at a site, which can then be used as an avenue to understand many other cultural phenomena such as subsistence, social organization, cultural identity, and many others.  One important aspect of determining how ceramics were used at any given archaeological site is to develop an understanding of the range of pottery vessel shapes and sizes in use at the site, including which vessels were present, and in what relative proportions with respect to the rest of the vessel assemblage.  There are of course many other sources of direct and indirect evidence for the actual uses to which pottery was put at a given archaeological site, including physical traces of such use preserved on individual potsherds, but vessel form studies at least provide a broad framework within which other evidence can be analyzed.  And while the direct identification and quantification of vessel forms at an archaeological site is of course very challenging when most of the vessels have been shattered into small sherds, independent studies of whole or nearly whole vessels from the same culture and time period can be extremely useful for interpreting more fragmentary finds. 

For the Spanish colonial era in general, and the 16^th century specifically, researchers are also fortunate to have documentary evidence that can reveal the types and relative frequency of specific named pottery vessel types present in a variety of contexts, such as personal probate inventories, warehouse lists, merchandise receipts, and shipping manifests.  Moreover, comprehensive dictionaries of the Spanish language from the 18^th century and later also provide sometimes detailed descriptions of vessel types that in many cases were in use for centuries before and after the 16^th century, sometimes right up to the present day (Real Academia Española 1726-1737).  Such data can be invaluable for identifying named vessel forms with well-documented functions, and for establishing important correspondences between the documentary and archaeological record.

There have been many archaeologically-focused studies of Spanish tradition ceramics during the colonial era and earlier.  These include a number of English-language studies and compilations that are important sources for Spanish colonial archaeologists (e.g. Goggin 1960, 1968; Lister and Lister 1974, 1976, 1978, 1982, 1987; Boone 1984; Deagan 1987; Skowronek et al. 1988; Marken 1994; Avery 1997).  Many of these tend to give greater emphasis to Spanish majolica and olive jar, particularly with regard to their more well-defined and limited range of vessel forms, especially in comparison to the wider range of less easily defined vessel forms evident among other coarse earthenwares.  However, these publications are fortunately supplemented by other Spanish-language studies that make use of a range of archaeological and historical data to create and refine somewhat more comprehensive ceramic vessel typologies.  These include several studies that have drawn upon substantial collections of whole or nearly whole vessels recovered from architectural fill inside historic structures in the Spanish cities of Seville, Triana, and others, also including privy deposits (Amores Carredano and Chisvert Jiménez 1993; Pleguezuelo-Hernández 1993; Sánchez Cortegana 1994, 1998; Pleguezuelo et al. 1997, 1999; Romero Vidal 2012; Ceniceros Herreros 2012; Cruz Sánchez 2014; López Torres 2018).  Many of these publications include scale drawings of a diverse range of complete and partial vessel profiles, accompanied by text descriptions of vessel types and their classification and functions, providing an important addition to the more sherd-focused English-language literature (but see Ness 2015 for more recent vessel form typology for the Spanish colonial era).

It is primarily the latter set of well-illustrated Spanish-language vessel typologies that I have drawn upon to create the selection of generic 16^th-century vessel profile images that follows below, along with descriptive tables of major vessel types that includes shape, size ranges (based in some cases on a very small number of examples), surface treatments, and general uses.  These example images and descriptions should not be considered comprehensive or definitive, since all of these forms have a range of variation beyond the selected examples portrayed here, and since this is a preliminary overview of ongoing studies.  However, these summary descriptions are presented here as part of a broader and ongoing effort to understand the nature of the Spanish ceramic assemblage at the Luna Settlement, and what it can tell us about daily life at the site during its two-year occupation between 1559 and 1561.

Tableware – Dining

Individual tableware for 16^th-century Spanish dining included the ubiquitous plato and escudilla vessel forms, equivalent to the plate (more properly a “soup plate”) and bowl, used to eat solid, semi-solid, and liquid foods at the table.  Ceramic drinking ware included individual jarrita and jarrito forms (distinguished by the number of handles), as well as the taza, or cup, and sometimes the cuenco, or drinking bowl.  It should be noted here, however, that 16^th-century documents also frequently record the use of wooden plates, bowls, and cups instead of, or in addition to, their ceramic equivalents for both maritime and terrestrial military use, and other more expensive materials were also used for the same vessel types, including tin plate, pewter, and even silver.

16th-Century Spanish Tableware - Dining

Plato

Form: Wide soup-plate with concave or ring base, gently rounded lower section, and outflaring slightly sloping upper section.

Dimensions: 18-24 cm orifice diameter; 3-6 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Tin enameled (interior and exterior).

Uses: Used for serving and consuming solid or partially liquid food at the table.

Escudilla

Form: Small bowl with rounded interior and a sharp or rounded profile break on the exterior, forming a vertical or nearly vertical upper section and a sloping or rounded lower section, and either a concave or slightly flaring ring base.  Includes a porringer version with two opposing orejas/orejetas, or lug handles.

Dimensions: 9-20 cm orifice diameter; 4-8 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Tin enameled or lead glazed (interior and exterior).

Uses: Used in consuming or measuring liquid foods.

Jarrita

Form: Small version of the jarra with two or more vertical handles.

Dimensions: 7-10 cm orifice diameter; 8-10 cm belly width (if present); 15-20 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (green) or unglazed.

Uses: Used as individual drinking containers.

Jarrito

Form: Small version of the jarro with one vertical handle.

Dimensions: 6-8 cm orifice diameter; 9-11 cm belly width; 13-18 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and almost all of exterior) or tin enameled.

Uses: Used as individual drinking containers.

Taza (large form called Tazón)

Form: Cup with a flat, slightly outflaring narrow base, wide belly, and slightly outflaring rim, typically with a single handle, but can have two opposing handles (especially with the tazón form).

Dimensions: 8-10 cm orifice diameter; 7-12 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and exterior partial or complete) or tin enameled.

Uses: Used as individual drinking containers.

Cuenco

Form: Hemispherical cup or small bowl, without handles.

Dimensions: comparable to escudilla.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and exterior partial or complete) or tin enameled.

Uses: Used as individual drinking containers, or in consuming or measuring liquid foods.

Tableware - Serving

Pottery vessels used for serving food at the table included a range of containers for liquids such as wine or water in various sizes, including the larger cantaro/cantara forms and the smaller jarro/jarra forms, commonly taking the form of pitchers.  These vessels were also commonly used as measures, containing specific amounts equivalent to rations of wine, for example.  Such vessels were also made of other materials, including brass and tin plate.  Table service also included large serving bowls called fuentes, as well as platters simply called platos grandes.  Small one-handled ceramic bottles with narrow necks called alcuzas were used to dispense olive oil.

16th-Century Spanish Tableware - Serving

Cántara

Form: Large, flat-bottomed jar with two or more vertical handles.

Generally more pot-bellied than a jarra, and with a shorter neck.

Dimensions: Multiple sizes, including 1.0 and 0.5 arrobas, and larger.

13-15 cm orifice diameter; 25-27 cm belly width; [33-44 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Unglazed.

Uses: Used for liquid storage, transport, and dispensing. 

Cántaro

Form: Large, flat-bottomed jar with one vertical handle. 

Generally more pot-bellied than a jarro, and with a shorter neck.

Dimensions: Multiple sizes, including 1.0 and 0.5 arrobas, and larger; 8-13 cm orifice diameter;

22-32 cm belly width; 32-48 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Unglazed.

Uses: Used for liquid storage, transport, and dispensing. 

Jarra

Form: Medium flat-bottomed jar with two or more vertical handles.

Generally less pot-bellied than a cántara, and with a longer neck.

Dimensions: 8-10 cm orifice diameter; 18-20 cm belly diameter; 25-32? cm height

Surface Treatment: Unglazed.

Uses: Used for dispensing water or wine at the table. 

Jarro

Form: Medium flat-bottomed jar with one vertical handle.  Generally less pot-bellied than a cántaro, and with a longer neck. 

Dimensions: 8-15 cm orifice diameter; 14-27 belly diameter; 20-35 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and partial exterior) or unglazed.

Uses: Used for dispensing water or wine at the table. 

Fuente

Form: Large, open serving bowl generally with straight or slightly curved outflaring lower portion and sometimes a vertical or slightly outflaring upper collar, and slightly outflaring concave ring base.

Dimensions: 25-33 cm orifice diameter; 10-12 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed or unglazed.

Uses: Used for presentng and serving food at the table.

Alcuza (a.k.a. Redoma, though term usually reserved for glass form)

Form: Small bottle with wide belly, narrow neck, flaring ring base, and one vertical handle.

Dimensions: 5-6 cm orifice diameter; 11-17 cm belly diameter; 18-28 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed.

Uses: Used for serving olive oil at the table or during cooking.

Cookware – Food Preparation

While 16^th-century Spanish cooking employed a wide range of containers of different materials, including from cast iron skillets (sartenes), copper kettles and cauldrons (calderas, calderos), wooden mixing bowls, etc., pottery played a very important role in food preparation.  Liquid foods such as porridges, stews, gruels, etc. were cooked over coals in earthenware pots (ollas) of various sizes, while shallower, more open vessels called cazuelas (similar to casserole dishes) were also used over coals or in ovens for a range of foods, and could have ceramic lids on which coals could also be placed for baking without an oven.  The ceramic brasero (later also known as anafe/anafre) was commonly used as a miniature stove to contain hot coals over which ollas and cazuelas would be placed for cooking.  Earlier stages in food preparation, such as soaking salted meats, preparing dough, marinating, etc., could be carried out using large ceramic basins called lebrillos, though these vessels could also have been used for washing dishes or clothes, personal hygiene, etc. (e.g. Amores Carredano and Chisvert Jiménez 1993:288).  And while grinding spices, herbs, and other foods was commonly carried out with brass or bronze mortar and pestles, ceramic morteros were also used, glazed or unglazed, presumably with wooden pestles.

16th-Century Spanish Cookware

Cazuela

Form: Wide, shallow pan with gently rounded or flattened base, with or without horizontal handles.

Dimensions: 14-31 cm orifice diameter; 6-8 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and partial exterior).

Uses: Used over fire for frying and sautéing foods.

Olla (a.k.a. Puchero, when small)

Form: Globular pot with flat or slightly convex base, wide belly, slightly restricted neck and outflaring rim, and normally two vertical handles (though can be one or four handles).

Dimensions: Wide range of sizes; 12-28 cm orifice diameter; 15-45 cm belly width; 17-39 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and partial exterior)

Uses: Used over fire for cooking liquids such as porridges, stews, soups, etc.

Brasero (a.k.a. Anafe/Anafre)

Form: Flat-based brazier with an insloping straight-walled lower portion and a rounded open upper portion and an incurved lip.

Dimensions: 24-38 cm orifice diameter; 47 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Unglazed.

Uses: Portable stove/heater for hot coals.

Lebrillo

Form: Wide, flat-based containers with straight, outsloping walls and a thick overhanging border, normally with cord/rope impressions. 

Dimensions: Generally large, but including a range of sizes; 35-80 cm orifice diameter; 10-18 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and exterior just over the lip).

Uses: Used for a range of household functions including soaking meats, cleaning clothes, personal hygiene, etc.

Mortero

Form: Thick-walled, flat-bottomed vessels with rounded interior and thickened and slightly incurved rim.

Dimensions: 18-20 cm orifice diameter; 13-18 cm height.

Surface Treatment: Unglazed or glazed (green exterior, white interior).

Uses: Used for grinding spices, herbs, etc.

Storage Ware

Pottery has always been commonly used for storage of liquids and solids, and the range of storage ware in 16^th-century Spain included flat-bottomed and round-bottomed vessels of diverse sizes and shapes.  The largest storage vessels were tinajas, with wide mouths and flat bases, and which could be used to store many different materials, both liquid and solid.  Large, wide-mouthed ceramic tubs called tinas were also used for catching rainwater or other liquid storage.  Smaller storage vessels included the orza, basically a smaller version of the tinaja, as well as the tarro (more recently also known as albarelo), both of which were used to store preserves, spices, drugs, etc.  Several varieties of narrow-necked, round-bottomed jars were more commonly used for storage during transport, including the ubiquitous botija, known by archaeologists as olive jars, which was a standard shipboard transport container for wine, vinegar, olive oil, and water, and the handled cantimplora form, which was well-suited for the transport of liquids by horse or mule. 

It should be noted that several detailed typologies have been developed for the “olive jar” based on overall vessel shape and neck configuration (e.g. Goggin 1960; Amores Carredano and Chisvert Jiménez 1993; Marken 1994; Avery 1997), but unfortunately the classification most frequently used in common parlance is still Goggin’s original (1960) classification into Early (c1500-1580), Middle (c1580-1800), and Late (after c1800) styles, which conflates two completely different vessel forms for the 16^th century part of the chronology.  As has been noted by several of the subsequent authors above, Goggin’s “Early Style” olive jar is actually the two-handled cantimplora vessel form constructed in two lateral halves, while his “Middle Style” and “Late Style” olive jars are true botijas, which lacked handles.  Moreover, the botija form was used throughout the 16^th century and into the late 15^th century in Spain (Pleguezuelo et al. 1999:271), and was actually contemporaneous with the cantimplora form.  The Luna Settlement and Emanuel Point shipwrecks have produced fragments of both vessel forms, illustrating the fact that Goggin’s “Middle Style” olive jar (the botija) and his “Early Style” olive jar (the cantimplora) were distinct and both in use at the same time.

16th-Century Spanish Storage Ware

Botija (a.k.a. the Olive Jar)

Form: Round-bottomed globular jar with a narrow neck and outflaring, slightly to substantially thickened rim.

Dimensions: Two sizes: 1-1.25 arrobas (6-10 cm orifice diameter; 24-37 cm width; 43-61 cm height), and 0.5 arrobas (7-8 cm orifice diameter; 22-26 cm width; 25-33 cm height).

Surface Treatment: Unglazed or lead glazed (interior); half-arroba size normally used for olive oil and glazed to avoid spoilage, with full-arroba size commonly used for wine, vinegar, and water and unglazed, though frequently coated with pez, or resin, on the interior.

Uses: Used for liquid (mostly) transport.

Cantimplora (sometimes also known as Barril; equivalent to Goggin’s “Early Style” Olive Jar)

Form: Circular, biconvex jar with expanded, flattened, or slightly dimpled sides, a projecting narrow neck with flaring, straight, or constricted rim, and two elongated loop handles.

Dimensions: 4-13 cm orifice diameter; 16-34 cm body diameter; 12-38 cm belly width; 19-42 cm height

Surface Treatment: Unglazed and occasionally glazed (interior and partial exterior).

Uses: Used for liquid transport and dispensing. 

Orza

Form: Tall, rounded, flat-based jar with slightly restricted neck and sometimes slightly outflaring lip.

Dimensions: Wide range of sizes; 10-22 cm orifice diameter; 17-42 cm belly width; 21-47 cm height

Surface Treatment: Glazed or unglazed.

Uses: Used for storing a range of goods including preserves and drugs.

Tarro (a.k.a. Albarelo)

Form: Tall, cylindrical, waisted, flat-bottomed jar with a stepped shoulder below the slightly narrowed mouth (sometimes slightly outflaring).

Dimensions: 8-9 cm orifice diameter; 9-11 cm body width; 17-22 cm height

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and exterior or partial exterior) or tin enameled.

Uses: Used for storing drugs, preserves, spices, etc.

Tina

Form: Very large, flat-based, open tub with rounded walls and thickened or outflaring/overhanging lip, sometimes with a decorative pinched strip on the shoulder.

Dimensions: 48-78 cm orifice diameter; 23-50 cm height

Surface Treatment: Unglazed.

Uses: Used for catching rainwater and holding liquids.

Tinaja

Form: Very large, tall, rounded, flat-based jar with slightly restricted neck and thickened or slightly outflaring/overhanging lip.

Dimensions: 20-32 cm orifice diameter; 38-52 cm belly width; 42-57 cm height

Surface Treatment: Unglazed.

Uses: Used for storage of liquid and solid materials.

Hygiene

Apart from multi-use pottery vessels that were likely employed in personal washing, such as the lebrillo form above, the bacín form was used as a recipient for bodily waste (a chamber pot).  Despite the use of the name, however, the archaeological ceramic type known as Green Bacín is generally characteristic of the large lebrillo form in Spanish assemblages, and not the bacín form, which normally has a honey-colored lead glaze (Amores Carredano and Chisvert Jiménez 1993:288-289).

16th-Century Spanish Bacín

Bacín

Form: Medium flat-bottomed container with straight (or slightly waisted) vertical or slightly outsloping (and sometimes insloping) walls and an overhanging rim, usually with two handles.

Dimensions: 21-32 exterior lip orifice diameter; 19-29 cm height

Surface Treatment: Lead glazed (interior and partial exterior) and tin enameled.

Uses: Recipient for bodily waste.

References Cited

Amores Carredano, Fernando de, and Nieves Chisvert Jiménez

1993    Tipología de la Cerámica Común Bajomedieval y Moderna Sevillana (SS. XV-XVIII): I, La Loza Quebrada de Relleno de Bóvedas.  Spal, Revista de Prehistoria y Arqueología de la Universidad de Sevilla 2:269-325.  http://dx.doi.org/10.12795/spal.1993.i2.11

Avery, George

1997    Pots as Packaging: The Spanish Olive Jar and Andalusian Transatlantic Commercial Activity, 16^th-18^th Centuries.  Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertatin, Department of Anthropology, University of Florida, Gainesville.

Boone, James L. III

1984    Majolica Escudillas of the 15th and 16th Centuries: A Typological Analysis of 55 Examples from Qsar es-Seghir.  Historical Archaeology 18(1):76-86.

Ceniceros Herreros, Javier

2012    Cerámica con Vidriado Estannífero del Alcázar de Nájera (La Rioja).  In La Cerámica en el Mundo del Vino y del Aceite, ed. by Teresa Álvarez González, Jaume Coll Conesa, Enrique Martínez Glera, and Josep Pérez Camps, pp. 168-184.  XV Congreso Annual de la Asociación de Ceramología, La Rioja, Spain.  http://www.ceramologia.org/gestion/archivos/Comunicacion7.pdf

Cruz Sánchez, Pedro Javier, Agustín Ruiz de Marco, María Jesús Tarancón Gómez, Óscar Luis Arellano Hernández, Montserrat Lerín Sanz, Raquel Barrio Onrubia

2014    Contextos Cerámicos de los Siglos XVI y XVII en una Villa del Oriente Castellano: La Colección Recuperada en la Letrina del Palacio de los Hurtado de Mendoza (Almazán, Soria).  BSAA Arqueología 80:83-127.  https://dialnet.unirioja.es/descarga/articulo/5452598.pdf

Deagan, Kathleen

1987    Artifacts of the Spanish Colonies of Florida and the Caribbean, 1500-1800.  Volume 1: Ceramics, Glassware, and Beads.  Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, D.C.

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1960    The Spanish Olive Jar: An Introductory Study.  Yale University Publications in Anthropology Number 62.  New Haven, CT.

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Lister, Florence C., and Robert H. Lister

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López Torres, Pina

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Ness, Kathryn L.

2015    Classifications Systems with a Plot: Vessel Forms and Ceramic Typologies in the Spanish Atlantic.  International Journal of Historical Archaeology 19(2):309–333.  https://doi-org/10.1007/s10761-015-0290-9

Pleguezuelo-Hernández, Alfonso

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1997    Cerámicas de la Edad Moderna (1450-1632).  In Real Monasterio de San Clemente: Una Propuesta Arqueológica, ed. by Miguel Ángel Tabales Rodríguez, pp. 130-157.  Universidad de Sevilla, Sevilla.  https://hdl.handle.net/11532/324005

Pleguezuelo, Alfonso, Antonio Librero, María Espinosa, and Pedro Mora

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Romero Vidal, Alfonso

2012    Barro y Vino: Una Buena Amistad con Más de Seis Milenios de Tradición. In La Cerámica en el Mundo del Vino y del Aceite, ed. by Teresa Álvarez González, Jaume Coll Conesa, Enrique Martínez Glera, and Josep Pérez Camps, pp. 68-95.  XV Congreso Annual de la Asociación de Ceramología, La Rioja, Spain.  http://www.ceramologia.org/gestion/archivos/Ponencia3.pdf

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Worth, John E.

2019    Functional and Spatial Patterning in Artifact Distribution at the Luna Settlement Site.  Paper presented at the 71st Annual Conference of the Florida Anthropological Society, Crystal River, Florida, May 11, 2019.