By Right of Conquest; Or, With Cortez in Mexico by G. A. Henty (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

"Take what you like of it!" Cortez said to his men, "but be careful not to overload yourselves. 'He travels safest, in the dark, who travels lightest.'"

His own veterans took his advice, and contented themselves with picking out a few of the most valuable ornaments; but the soldiers of Narvaez could not bring themselves to leave such treasures behind them, and loaded themselves up with as much gold as they could carry.

Cortez now arranged the order of march. The van was composed of two hundred Spanish foot, and twenty horsemen, under the orders of Gonzalo de Sandoval. The rearguard, with the main body of the infantry and the greater portion of the guns, was commanded by Alvarado and Velasquez de Leon. Cortez himself led the center, which was in charge of the baggage, some of the heavy guns, and the prisoners; among whom were a son and two daughters of Montezuma, Cacama, and the other nobles who had been in prison with him. The Tlascalans were divided among the three corps.

A portable bridge had been prepared for crossing the canals which intersected the causeway; the intention being that it should be laid across a canal, that the army should pass over it, and that it should then be carried forward to the next gap in the causeway. This was a most faulty arrangement, necessitating frequent and long delays, and entailing almost certain disaster. Had three such portable bridges been constructed, the column could have crossed the causeway with comparatively little risk; and there was no reason why these bridges should not have been constructed, as they could have been carried, without difficulty, by the Tlascalans.

At midnight the troops were in readiness for the march. Mass was performed by Father Olmedo; and at one o'clock on July 1st, 1520, the Spaniards sallied out from the fortress that they had so stoutly defended.

Silence reigned in the city. As noiselessly as possible, the troops made their way down the broad street, expecting every moment to be attacked; but even the tramping of the horses, and the rumbling of the baggage wagons and artillery did not awake the sleeping Mexicans, and the head of the column arrived at the head of the causeway before they were discovered. Then, as the advanced guard were preparing to lay the portable bridge across the first opening, some Aztec sentinels gave the alarm.

The priests on the summits of the temples heard their cries, and at once sounded their horns and the huge war drum. Instantly the city awoke, and the silence was succeeded by a roar of sound. The vanguard had scarcely got upon the causeway when canoes shot out upon the lake, and soon a storm of stones and arrows burst upon the column. More and more terrible did it become, as fresh canoes, crowded with the warriors, came up. Many of these pushed up to the causeway itself; and the natives, landing, fell upon the Spaniards with fury.

The latter made no stay. Fighting their way through their foes they pressed on until they reached the next opening in the causeway, and there waited for the bridge to come up. But a column many thousands strong, with baggage and artillery, takes a long time to cross a bridge; and the advanced guard had reached the opening long before the rear had passed the bridge, and there stood helpless, exposed to the terrible storm of missiles, until at last the column were all across the bridge.

Then forty picked men, who had been specially told off for the task, tried to raise it so that it might be carried to the front; but the weight of the baggage wagons and artillery had so wedged it into the earth, that they were unable to move it. They persevered in their efforts until most of them had fallen. The rest bore the terrible news to the army that the bridge was immovable.

A terrible cry of despair arose, as the news spread. All hope seemed lost and, regardless of order or discipline, all pressed forward to endeavor, in some way or other, to cross the obstacle that barred their way.

Pressed on by those behind them, Sandoval and his cavaliers dashed into the water. The distance was short, but the horses were weak from hunger, and burdened by their own heavy armor and that of their riders. Some succeeded in swimming across. Others sank; while some reached the opposite side, only to fall back again, as they tried to climb the steep bank.

The infantry followed them, throwing away their armor to enable them to swim. Some succeeded, others were pressed down by their comrades. Many were killed by the war clubs or spears of the Mexicans in their canoes. Others again, half stunned by the clubs, were dragged into the canoes and carried off to the city to be sacrificed.

All along the causeway the fight raged unceasingly; the Aztecs in the boats alongside leaping ashore, and grappling with their foes, and rolling with them down the causeway into the water; while those in the distance kept up their rain of missiles. The opening in the causeway was at last filled--choked up with ammunition wagons and guns, bales of rich goods, chests of gold, and the bodies of men and horses--and over these the Spaniards made their way.

Cortez had swum or waded across on his horse, and he rode on until he joined Sandoval and the remains of the advanced guard, who were checked at the third and last opening. The cavaliers set the example to their followers by plunging into the water. The rest followed as best they could. Many were drowned by the weight of the gold they carried. Others got across by clinging to the tails and manes of the horses.

Cortez, with Sandoval and other cavaliers, led the retreat until they reached the end of the causeway. The din of battle was now far behind, but those who came up brought the news that the rear guard were so sorely pressed, that they would be destroyed unless aid reached them.

Cortez and his companions did not hesitate. They dashed along the causeway, again swam the canal, and made their way through the crowd until they reached the rear guard. Morning was breaking now, and it showed the lake covered with canoes filled with warriors. Along the whole length of the causeway a desperate fight was raging.

Cortez found Alvarado on foot, his horse had been killed under him. With a handful of followers, he was still desperately defending the rear against the Mexicans, who had poured out from the city in pursuit. The artillery had at first done good service, sweeping the causeway and mowing down hundreds of their assailants; but the Aztecs were careless of life, and rushed on so furiously that they swept over the guns, killing those who served them, and fell upon the infantry.

The charge of Cortez and his companions for a moment bore back the foe; but, pressed by those behind, they swept aside resistance, and bore back the Spaniards to the edge of the canal. Cortez and his companions plunged in and swam across. Alvarado stood on the brink, hesitating. Unhorsed and defenseless, he could not make his way across the gap, which was now crowded with the canoes of the enemy. He set his strong lance on the bottom of the canal and, using it as a leaping pole, sprang across. The feat was an extraordinary one, for although the width is not given, it was declared, by those who witnessed it, to be impossible for any mortal. It filled friends and foes alike with astonishment; and the spot is, to this day, known by the Mexicans as "Alvarado's Leap."

The Aztecs followed no farther. They were occupied, now, in securing the enormous wealth the Spaniards had left behind them; and the remnants of the army marched along the causeway unmolested, and took possession of the village at its end.

Cortez, iron hearted as he was, sat down and burst into tears as he viewed the broken remnant of his army. He was consoled, however, by finding that many of his most trusted companions had escaped. Sandoval, Alvarado, Olid, Ordaz and Avila were safe; and so, to his great joy, was Marina. She had, with a daughter of a Tlascalan chief, been placed under the escort of a party of Tlascalan warriors, in the van of the column, and had passed unharmed through the dangers of the night.

The loss of the Spaniards in their retreat is variously estimated; but the balance of authority, among contemporary writers, places it at four hundred and fifty Spaniards, and four thousand Tlascalans. This, with the loss sustained in the previous conflicts, reduced the Spaniards to about a third, and the Tlascalans to a fifth of the force which had entered the capital. The greater part of the soldiers of Narvaez had been killed. They had formed the rear guard, and had not only borne the brunt of the battle, but had suffered from the effect of their cupidity. Of the cavalry but twenty-three remained mounted, all the artillery had been lost, and every musket thrown away in the flight.

Velasquez de Leon had fallen in the early part of the retreat, bravely defending the rear; and several others among the leaders had also fallen, together with all the prisoners whom they had brought out from the capital.

The remains of the army straggled on into the town of Tlacopan, but Cortez would allow of no halt there. At any moment the exultant Aztecs from the capital might arrive and, in a battle in the streets, the Spaniards would stand no chance, whatever, with their foes. He therefore hurried the soldiers through and, when outside, endeavored to form them into some sort of order.

It was necessary to give them a few hours of repose, and he led them towards an eminence, crowned by a temple, which commanded the plain. It was held by a party of natives; and the troops, dispirited and exhausted, refused at first to advance against them; but the influence of Cortez, backed by the example of his officers, had its usual effect. The column moved forward against the temple, and the natives, after a few discharges of missiles, abandoned the place.

It was a large building, affording ample shelter for the Spaniards and their allies. Provisions were found there, and a large supply of fuel intended for the service of the temple. Here, lighting great fires, they dried their clothing, bound up their wounds and, after partaking of food, threw themselves down to sleep.

Fortunate it was for the Spaniards that the Mexicans, contented with the slaughter they had inflicted, the plunder they had captured, and most of all with the prisoners whom they had carried off to be sacrificed on their altars, retired to the capital, and allowed the invaders twenty-four hours' breathing time. Had they pressed them hotly and relentlessly, from the moment when they emerged from the causeway, they would have annihilated them; for at that time the Spaniards were too worn out, and dispirited, to be capable of any effectual resistance. Food and rest, however, did wonders for them. They were hardy veterans, and with Cortez and the leaders they most trusted with them, they soon came to look at matters in a more cheerful light.

They were still stronger than they were when they first marched upon Mexico. Why, then, should they despair of making their way back to Tlascala, where they would have rest and friends? They knew there was a long and painful march before them, and probably desperate battles to fight; but in a fair field, they felt themselves a match for any number of the enemy; and when, late in the evening, their officers bade them form up and prepare for a night's march, they fell in steadily and willingly; and Cortez felt that they could again be relied upon, under every emergency.

On marching out from the city, Roger and his two comrades formed part of a picked band, to whom was entrusted the charge of the prisoners. Roger had been specially selected, as he could translate to them any order given by the officer of the party; and he was ordered to march next to them.

He had once or twice in the past few days been enabled, by the intervention of Marina, to visit the prisoners. Cacama's spirit was in no way shaken by captivity.

"Your general has made a fatal mistake," he said, "in sending Cuitlahua out to pacify the populace. He is of very different stuff from Montezuma, who has become a woman in the hands of the Spanish. You will see that he will never return, but will lead the people on to the attack.

"It matters little to us. I know that we shall never escape. The Spaniards will slay us all, rather than that we should rejoin our people. But for that I care not. One would rather die