BATTLE OF THE DISMAL NIGHT.
Augmented forces of Cortez.--The reconnaissance.--Success of the
Mexicans.--The conflict continued.--Troops of Narvaez begin to
murmur.--The sally.--Cortez obliged to retreat.--The conflagration.
--The desperate situation.--The appeal to Montezuma.--He is induced
to interpose.--The dawn of the morning.--Attention of the natives.
--Address of Montezuma.--He is wounded.--He refuses nourishment.
--His death.--Raging of the battle.--The two Mexican nobles.--Escape
of Cortez.--Night and its scenes.--Endeavors to intimidate the
natives.--Their heroism.--Defiance.--Cortez resolves to leave the
city.--The moving towers.--The retreat.--The onset.--Arrival at the
canal.--Imminent peril.--Filling the breach.--Slow advance.--The
storm.--The causeway.--Multitude of the enemy.--Fury of the attack.
--Noche triste.--Separation of the Spaniards.--March to the rescue.
--Destruction of a part of the army.--Sorrow of Cortez.--They flee
to a temple.--Condition of the party.--March over the mountains.
--Value of the horses.--Courage of Cortez.--Shouts of defiance.--
Appearance of the enemy.--Apprehensions of Cortez.--The attack.--
Superstition of the Mexicans.--The capture of the standard.--The
natives flee.--Arrival at Tlascala.--Enmity of the Tlascalans against
the Mexicans.--New disasters.--New designs of Cortez.--Efforts to
collect recruits.--Preparations for building ships.--Remonstrance of
his companions.--The foray.--Plunder.--The Governor of Cuba sends
ships to Vera Cruz.--Expedition from the Governor of Jamaica.--
Collection of arms.--Equipping the fleet.--The vessels baptized.
The force which Cortez now had under his command, if we take into
consideration the efficiency of European discipline and of European
weapons of warfare, was truly formidable. In the stone buildings which
protected and encircled his encampment, he could marshal, in battle
array, twelve hundred Spaniards and eight thousand native allies; but
they were nearly destitute of provisions, and the natives were rapidly
assembling from all quarters in countless numbers. Cortez sent four
hundred men out into the streets to reconnoitre. They had hardly
emerged from the walls of their fortress before they were assailed
with shouts of vengeance, and a storm of arrows and javelins fell upon
them. Phrenzied multitudes thronged the streets and the house-tops,
and from the roofs and the summits of the temples, stones and all
similar missiles were poured down upon the heads of the Spaniards.
With great difficulty this strong detachment fought their way back to
their fortified quarters, having lost twenty-three in killed, and a
large number being wounded.
This success greatly emboldened the Mexicans, and in locust legions
they pressed upon the Spanish quarters, rending the air with their
unearthly shouts, and darkening the sky with their missiles. The
artillery was immediately brought to bear upon them, and every volley
opened immense gaps in their ranks; but the places of the dead were
instantly occupied by others, and there seemed to be no end to their
numbers. Never did mortal men display more bravery than these
exasperated Mexicans exhibited, struggling for their homes and their
rights. Twice they came very near forcing an entrance over the walls
into the Spanish quarters. Had they succeeded, in a hand to hand fight
numbers must have triumphed, and the Spaniards must have been
inevitably destroyed; but the batteries of the Spaniards mowed down
the assailants like grass before the scythe, and the Mexicans were
driven from the walls. All the day long the conflict was continued,
and late into the night. The ground was covered with the dead when
darkness stopped the carnage.
The soldiers of Narvaez, unaccustomed to such scenes, and appalled by
the fury and the number of their enemies, began to murmur loudly. They
had been promised the spoils of an empire which they were assured was
already conquered; instead of this, they found themselves in the
utmost peril, exposed to a conflict with a vigorous and exasperated
enemy, surrounding them with numbers which could not be counted.
Bitterly they execrated their own folly in allowing themselves to be
thus deluded; but their murmurs could now be of no avail. The only
hope for the Spaniards was in united and indomitable courage.
The energies of Cortez increased with the difficulties which
surrounded him. During the night he selected a strong force of picked
men to make a vigorous sally in the morning. To nerve them to higher
daring, he resolved to head the perilous enterprise himself. He
availed himself of all his knowledge of Indian warfare, and of all the
advantages which European military art could furnish. In the early
dawn, these troops, in solid column, rushed from the gates of their
fortress; but the foe, greatly augmented by the fresh troops which had
been pouring in during the night, were ready to receive him. Both
parties fought with ferocity which has never been surpassed. Cortez,
to his inexpressible chagrin, found himself compelled to retire before
the natives, who, in numbers perfectly amazing, were crowding upon
him.
Most of the streets were traversed by canals. The bridges were broken
down, and the Spaniards, thus arrested in their progress and crowded
together, were overwhelmed with stones and arrows from the house-tops.
Cortez set fire to the houses every where along his line of march.
Though the walls of many of these buildings were of stone, the flames
ran eagerly through the dry and combustible interior, and leaped from
roof to roof. A wide and wasting conflagration soon swept horribly
through the doomed city, adding to the misery of the bloody strife.
All the day long the battle raged. The streets were strewn with the
bodies of the dead, and crimsoned with gore. The natives cheerfully
sacrificed a hundred of their own lives to take the life of one of
their foes. The Spaniards were, however, at length driven back behind
their walls, leaving twelve of their number dead in the streets, and
having sixty severely wounded.
Another night darkened over the bloodstained and smouldering city.
The Spaniards, exhausted by the interminable conflict, still stood
fiercely behind their ramparts. The natives, in continually increasing
numbers, surrounded them, filling the night air with shrieks
of defiance and rage. Cortez had displayed personally the most
extraordinary heroism during the protracted strife. His situation now
seemed desperate. Though many thousands of the Mexicans had been
slaughtered during the day, recruits flocked in so rapidly that their
numbers remained undiminished. Cortez had received a severe wound in
his hand which caused him intense anguish. His soldiers could hardly
stand from their exhaustion. Many had been slain, and nearly all were
wounded. The maddened roar of countless thousands of the fiercest
warriors surging around their bulwarks almost deafened the ear. Every
moment it was apprehended that the walls would be scaled, and the
inundation pour in resistlessly upon them.
In this extremity Cortez decided to appeal to his captive Montezuma,
and try the effect of his interposition to soothe or overawe his
subjects. Assuming the tone of humanity, he affected to deplore the
awful carnage which had taken place. He affirmed that the city must
inevitably be destroyed entirely, and the inhabitants generally
slaughtered, unless they could be induced to lay down their arms.
Montezuma, from one of the towers of the Spanish fortress, had
watched, with a throbbing heart and flooded eyes, the progress of the
fight as the flames swept through the streets, and destruction, like
a scythe, mowed down his subjects. The amiable, beloved, perplexed
sovereign was thus induced, though with much hesitation, to interpose.
He was adored by his people; but he believed that the Spaniards were
enthroned by the voice of destiny, and that resistance would but
involve the nation in a more bloody ruin.
Another morning dawned upon the combatants. In its earliest light the
battle was again renewed with increasing fury. No pen can describe
the tumult of this wild war. The yell of countless thousands of
assailants, the clang of their trumpets, gongs, and drums, the clash
of arms, the rattle of musketry, and the roar of artillery, presented
a scene which had never before found a parallel in the New World.
Suddenly all the tumult was hushed as the venerated emperor, dressed
in his imperial robes, appeared upon the walls, and waved his hand to
command the attention of his subjects. At the sight of their beloved
sovereign silence almost instantaneously prevailed, all bowed their
heads in reverence, and many prostrated themselves upon the ground.
Montezuma earnestly entreated them to cease from the conflict,
assuring them that the Spaniards would retire from the city if the
Mexicans would lay down their arms.
"The war will soon be over," a Mexican shouted from the crowd, "for we
have all sworn that not a Spaniard shall leave the city alive."
[Illustration: THE FALL OF MONTEZUMA.]
As Montezuma continued his urgency, pleading for the detested
Spaniards, the natives for a few moments longer continued to listen
patiently. But gradually a sullen murmur, like a rising breeze,
began to spread through the ranks. Reproaches and threats succeeded.
Indignation now overtopped all barriers, and a shower of stones and
arrows suddenly fell upon the unhappy monarch. Cortez had taken the
precaution to send a body-guard upon the wall with Montezuma, with
bucklers for his protection; but so sudden and unexpected was the
assault, that two arrows pierced his body, and a stone, striking him
on the temple, felled him senseless to the ground before they could
raise their shields. This was the last drop in the cup of bitterness
which Montezuma was doomed to drain. The wounded monarch was conveyed
to his apartment, crushed in spirit, and utterly broken-hearted.
Finally, resolved no longer to live, he tore the bandages from his
wounds, and refused all nourishment. Silent, and brooding over his
terrible calamities, he lingered, the picture of dejection and woe,
for a few days, until he died.
In the mean time the battle was resumed with all its fury. Throughout
the day it raged with the most intense ferocity. The Mexicans took
possession of a high tower which commanded the Spanish quarters. It
was necessary to dislodge them at any sacrifice. A detachment of
chosen men was three times repulsed in its desperate assault. Cortez,
aware that the safety of the army depended upon the result, ordered a
buckler to be bound to his arm, as he could not grasp it with his
wounded hand, and placed himself at the head of the attacking column.
Animated by his voice and example, the Spaniards forced their way up
the steps of the temple, driving the Mexicans before them. Having
reached the spacious platform on the summit, a terrible strife
ensued. Two young Mexican nobles resolved to effect the destruction of
Cortez by the sacrifice of their own lives. They seized him, dragged
him to the battlements, and threw themselves over while clinging to
his person, that they might thus dash him also upon the pavement
beneath. But Cortez, by his wonderful strength and agility, shook them
off, and thus broke from their grasp, though they both perished. The
victorious Spaniards then set fire to the tower. Other sorties were
made during the day, and the wretched city was as the crater of a
volcano of flame and blood. The energies of both parties seemed to
redouble with despair.
At last another night spread its veil over the infuriated combatants.
In its darkest watches, the indomitable Cortez made a sortie at the
head of a strong band, and set three hundred buildings in flames. The
lurid fire, crackling to the skies, illumined the tranquil lake, and
gleamed portentously upon the most distant villages in the vast
mountain-girdled valley. The tumult of the midnight assault, the
shrieks of the women and children, and the groans of the wounded and
the dying, blended dismally with the roar of the conflagration.
Cortez now summoned the Mexican chiefs to a parley. He stood upon the
wall. The beautiful Marina, as interpreter, stood at his side. The
native chiefs were upon the ground before him. The inflexible Spanish
commander endeavored to intimidate his determined foes by threats.
"If you do not immediately submit," said he, "I will lay the whole
city in ashes, and every man, woman, and child shall be put to the
sword."
They answered defiantly,
"The bridges are broken down, and you can not escape. You have better
weapons of war than we, but we have greater numbers. If we offer a
thousand lives for one, we will continue the battle till you are all
destroyed."
Saying this, they gave a signal, and a storm of arrows and
javelins pierced the air, and fell into the beleaguered fortress.
Notwithstanding the bold tone assumed by Cortez, the Spaniards were
in great dismay. It was manifest to all that their destruction was
certain unless they could cut their way through the enemy, and escape
from the city. The extraordinary energies of this iron fanatic still
remained unshaken. Calmly he reflected upon his position, examined
his resources, and formed his plans. The Mexicans had barricaded the
streets, and had broken down the causeways, to prevent, if possible,
the escape of their foes. But there was no longer any alternative for
Cortez. Destruction was certain unless he could effect his escape. He
decided to make the desperate attempt at midnight. He immediately
constructed moving towers, to be pushed through the streets on wheels,
at the head of his columns, under the protection of which his soldiers
could force their way, and make every bullet accomplish its mission. A
platform on the top could be let down, affording a bridge to the roofs
of the houses, thus placing the Spaniards on a level with their
assailants. The sides of the towers were amply strong to repel darts
and arrows. Thus protected from all harm, the sharpshooters could
sweep the streets and the house-tops.
At midnight the retreat was commenced in three divisions. Sandoval led
the van, Alvarado the rear. Cortez took command of the centre, where
he placed the distinguished prisoners, among whom were a son and
daughter of Montezuma, and several of the high nobles. He also carried
with his division the artillery, the baggage, and a portable bridge,
ingeniously constructed of timber, to be laid over the breaches in the
causeway. In profound silence the army issued from their quarters, and
marched firmly along through the smouldering and gory streets.
For a little time they advanced unmolested; but the Mexicans were
watching their movements, and were silently making dispositions for a
tremendous onset. Suddenly the shout of an innumerable multitude and
the clash of arms rose fearfully in the dark night air, and from every
quarter the natives came rushing on, and stones, javelins, darts, and
arrows rattled like hail-stones upon helmet and buckler. Every inch of
the way was now contested. The progress of the Spaniards, though slow,
was resistless, the cannon and the musketry sweeping down all
obstacles.
At last they arrived at one of the numerous canals which every where
intersected the city. The bridge was destroyed, and the deep waters
flowing from the lake cut off all retreat. The wooden bridge, prepared
for such an emergence, was thrown across the chasm. The head of the
Spanish column fought its way over successfully; but, unfortunately,
the weight of the artillery and of the dense throng wedged the
timbers so fast into the stones that all their efforts could not
again remove them. Their peril was growing every moment more imminent,
as the roused natives were thronging to every point where the retiring
foe could be assailed. They were thus compelled to leave the bridge
behind them.
Advancing precipitately, the Spaniards soon arrived at a second
breach. Here they found themselves hemmed in on all sides, and they
had no means of bridging the gap; but, planting their cannon so as to
hold the natives at bay, every available hand was employed in filling
the chasm with stones and timbers torn from the demolished and
smouldering dwellings. The labor was difficult and perilous, for they
were incessantly assailed by the most pelting storm of the missiles of
destruction.
For two days this terrific conflict raged. Seven breaches in the
canals they were compelled thus to bridge with stones and timbers torn
from the adjacent streets; but the Spaniards still slowly advanced,
triumphing with difficulty over every obstacle which the natives could
interpose. Though they thus sternly fought their way along, trampling
beneath them the mutilated bodies of the dying and of the dead, at
the close of the second day they found their foes more numerous and
their situation more desperate than ever.
As the gloom of night again descended, a deeper, heavier gloom rested
upon all in the heart of the Spanish camp. A wailing storm arose of
wind and rain, and nature mourned and wept as if in sympathy with the
woes of man. Availing themselves of the darkness and of the uproar of
the midnight tempest, though weary, faint, and bleeding, they urged
their steps along the war-scathed streets, for a time strangely
encountering no opposition. But when they reached the long causeway,
nearly two miles in length and but thirty feet wide, by which alone
they could reach the land, a yell of exultation suddenly rose from the
black and storm-lashed waters of the lake, loud as the heaviest
thunders. The whole lake, on both sides of the causeway, seemed alive
with the boats of the natives, and the Spaniards were immediately
assailed by the swarming multitudes, who, in the fierce and maddened
strife, set all danger at defiance.
War never exhibited a more demoniac aspect. The natives opposed their
advance, crowded their rear, and clambered up the sides of the
causeway, attacking the foe on each flank with indescribable fury.
Fresh warriors instantly rushed into the place where their comrades
had fallen, and those in the rear of the tumultuous mass crowded their
companions in the front ranks resistlessly upon the compact enemy.
There were three chasms in the causeway broken by the Mexicans which
the Spaniards were compelled to bridge in the darkness and the storm,
and while assailed by an innumerable and almost an invisible foe.
Imagination can not compass the horrors of that night. _Noche
triste_, dismal night, is the name by which it has ever since been
distinguished. In the awful confusion, military skill and discipline
were of but little avail. The Spaniards could with difficulty
distinguish friend from foe, and ere long they were nearly all quite
swept away by the torrent rushing so resistlessly upon them.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE UPON THE CAUSEWAY.]
Cortez succeeded in keeping about a hundred men around him, and, using
the bodies of the dead to aid him in bridging two chasms, he at length
reached the main land. The horrid clamor still rose from the darkness
of the causeway as his companions, left behind, were struggling in
desperation with the multitudes who inclosed them. Cortez heroically,
with every man in his little band still able to fight, marched back
to their rescue. A few succeeded in breaking through the enemy, and
joined him. Multitudes were struck down or hurled into the lake; but
dreadful was the anguish of Cortez as he heard, piercing through the
clamor, the cries for help of his companions who were seized by the
natives as captives, and who were being borne away to be offered in
sacrifice to their gods. The few who escaped, exhausted and bleeding,
clung together for the remainder of the night near the village of
Tacuba, where the causeway reached the main land.
When the first gray of the lurid morning dawned, the whole length of
the causeway was seen covered with the bodies of the slain. The chasms
were clogged up with fragments of artillery, baggage-wagons, dead
horses, and the corpses of Spaniards and natives. The features of the
dead were distorted by all the hateful passions of the strife. A few
only had escaped. Nearly all the horses, all the cannon, all the
plundered treasure, and all the baggage-wagons, were either sunk in
the lake, or were floating in fragments upon its surface. The storm
had passed away, and the placid waters were blackened with the
war-canoes of the natives. Not even a musket remained to the
Spaniards. Bernal Diaz records that in this bloody night eight hundred
and seventy of the Spaniards perished. More than four thousand of
their allies were also slain.
As Cortez gazed upon the feeble band of mangled and bleeding soldiers
which now alone remained to him, even his stern heart was moved, and
he bowed his head and wept bitterly. We can not regret that some drops
of retributive woe were wrung from the heart of that guilty conqueror.
He had overwhelmed a benighted nation with misery. Under the divine
government, such a crime can not go unpunished, and the penalty must
descend either in this life or in that which is to come.
But this was no time to indulge in grief. It was necessary immediately
to find some shelter for the wearied troops. The Mexicans were
preparing to renew the attack, and the inhabitants of Tacuba were
assembling in arms. At a little distance, on a rising ground, Cortez
discovered a large stone temple. He immediately took possession
of it, and here found not only temporary shelter, but, fortunately,
provisions for his almost famished troops. Here, for a day, the
Spaniards beat off the foe who incessantly assailed them.
"And God only knows," says Cortez, "the toil and fatigue with which it
was accomplished; for of twenty-four horses that remained to us, there
was not one that could move briskly, nor a horseman able to raise his
arm, nor a foot-soldier unhurt who could make any effort."
They were now on the western side of the lake. It was necessary to
pass around the northern shore of this vast expanse of water, as the
country was there thinly populated, and they would be consequently
less liable to attack. The road led a distance of nearly a hundred
miles over mountains and through marshes to the eastern shore. From
there, a march of more than sixty-four miles was necessary before they
could reach the territory of Tlascala, which was the first point where
they could hope for any relief.
Under the guidance of a Tlascalan soldier, the despairing band
commenced its march. They advanced the first day and night but nine
miles, fighting incessantly all the way. For six days, with hardly any
respite, they continued their retreat. Their only food they gathered
as they hurried along, of berries, roots, and green corn. They were
continually assailed by the indefatigable foe; but with their few
remaining horses, their steel swords, and the energies which European
civilization confers, they beat off their assailants and continued
their flight. As the horses were needed to beat off the swarming foe,
the sick and wounded were compelled to hobble along, as they could, on
crutches. "Next to God," says Cortez, "our greatest security was in
our horses." One horse was killed. The Spaniards eagerly devoured his
flesh, "not leaving," says Cortez, "even his skin, or any other part
of him, so great were our necessities."
Cortez, who promptly recovered from his momentary weakness, manifested
the utmost sereneness and imperturbability of spirit, shared every
hardship of the soldiers, and maintained their confidence in him by
surpassing all in the gallantry and the magnanimity of his courage.
Exhausted and wounded as they were, it required the toilsome journey
of a week to reach the mountain summits which encircle the great
valley of Mexico. As they approached the defiles of these mountains,
parties of the enemy were seen here and there in increasing numbers.
The natives shouted to them from a distance insults, defiance, and
threats. Marina, who fortunately escaped the massacre of the _dismal
night_, remarked that they often, in exultant tones, exclaimed,
"Hurry along, robbers, hurry along; you will soon meet with the
vengeance due to your crimes."
The significance of this threat was soon made manifest. As the
Spaniards were emerging from a narrow pass among the cliffs of the
mountains, they came suddenly upon an extended plain. Here, to their
amazement, they found an enormous army of the natives filling the
whole expanse, and apparently cutting off all possibility of farther
retreat. The sight was sufficient to appal the most dauntless heart.
The whole plain, as far as the eye could extend, seemed as a living
ocean of armed men, with its crested billows of banners, and gleaming
spears, and helmets, and plumes. Even the heart of Cortez for a moment
sank within him as his practiced eye told him that there were two
hundred thousand warriors there in battle array, through whose serried
ranks he must cut his bloody path or perish. To all the Spaniards it
seemed certain that their last hour had now tolled; but each man
resolved to sell his life as dearly as possible.
Cortez immediately assembled his band around him, and invigorated
them with a forcible harangue. He assured them that there was no
possible hope but in the energies of despair; but that, with those
energies, they might confidently expect God's blessing, for they were
his servants, his missionaries, endeavoring to overthrow the idols of
the heathen, and to introduce the religion of the cross. In solid
column, with their long spears bristling in all directions, and clad
in coats of mail which protected a great part of their bodies from
both arrow and spear, they plunged desperately into the dense masses
of the enemy. Wherever this solid body of iron men directed its
course, the tumultuous throng of the foe was pierced and dashed aside,
as the stormy billows of the ocean yield to the careering steamer. The
marvelous incidents of this fight would occupy pages. The onset of the
Spaniards was so fierce that the natives could present no effectual
resistance; but as the Indians were compelled to retire from the front
of the assailing column, they closed up with shouts of vengeance and
with redoubled fury upon the flanks and the rear. Cortez had heard
that the superstition of the Mexicans was such that the fate of a
battle depended upon the imperial banner, which was most carefully
guarded in the centre of the army. If that were taken, the natives
deemed themselves forsaken by their gods, and in dismay would break
and fly. In the distance, for there was no smoke of artillery to
darken this field of battle, he saw this standard proudly waving in
the breeze. With impetuosity which crushed down all opposition, he
pushed toward it. The standard-bearers were stricken down and pinned
to the earth with lances. Cortez, with his own hand, seized the sacred
banner, and as he waved it aloft his soldiers raised a simultaneous
shout of triumph.
The natives, with cries of rage, grief, and despair, in the wildest
tumult, broke and fled to the mountains. Their gods had abandoned
them. The victory of the Spaniards was complete. They record, though
doubtless with exaggeration, for they had no leisure to stop and count
the slain, that twenty thousand of their enemies were left dead upon
that bloody field. With new alacrity the victors now pressed on, and
the next day entered the territory of the Tlascalans.
Here they were received with the greatest kindness. The enmity of the
Tlascalans against the Mexicans was so inveterate, and their desire
to avenge the death of their countrymen so intense, that they still
clung tenaciously to the Spanish alliance, with the hope that new
resources might arrive which would enable the Spaniards to retrieve
their fallen fortunes.
In the hospitable city of Tlascala Cortez allowed his shattered
battalions that repose which was now so indispensable. Nearly all his
men were suffering severely from sickness, fatigue, and wounds. But
here the Spanish chieftain learned of new disasters which had befallen
him. A detachment of Spanish soldiers, who were marching from
Zempoalla to the capital as a re-enforcement, had been cut off by the
natives and entirely destroyed. A small party, who had been sent to
convey some treasures from Tlascala to Vera Cruz, had also been
surprised and destroyed among the mountains. When the life of every
Spaniard was of so much importance, these were, indeed, terrible
additional calamities.
The companions of Cortez were now thoroughly disheartened, and were
anxious to return to Vera Cruz, send a vessel to Cuba for some
transports, and abandon the enterprise; but the indomitable warrior,
though lying upon the bed in a raging fever, and while a surgeon was
cutting off two of his mutilated and inflamed fingers, and raising a
portion of the bone of his skull, which had been splintered by the
club of a native, was forming his plans to return to Mexico and
reconquer what he had lost. The resources at his command still
appeared to him sufficient to form a nucleus around which to assemble
a new army. The garrison at Vera Cruz, with its artillery and military
stores, still remained unimpaired; the Tlascalans and Zempoallans
continued firm in their alliance; and he still could assemble,
notwithstanding his losses, as large a force as accompanied him in his
first march into Mexico. He therefore resolved to make vigorous and
prompt preparations to prosecute his enterprise anew. He wrote to his
sovereign an account of the disasters he had encountered, saying, "I
can not believe that the good and merciful God will thus suffer his
cause to perish among the heathen."
With great energy and sagacity he aroused himself for this new effort.
He made special exertions to secure the cordial co-operation of the
Tlascalan chiefs, by distributing among them the rich spoil taken in
his last battle. He dispatched four ships, selected from the fleet
captured from Narvaez, to Hispaniola and Jamaica, to collect recruits
and supplies. That he might secure the command of the lake, he
prepared, with the ready aid of the Tlascalans, materials for building
twelve vessels, to be conveyed in pieces by the _men of burden_ to the
lake, there to be put together and launched upon the waters.
The companions of Cortez had, however, by far too vivid a recollection
of the horrors of the _dismal night_ to participate in the zeal of
their commander. Murmurs against the enterprise grew louder and
louder, until the camp was almost in a state of mutiny. They
assembled, and appointed a delegation to wait upon their commander,
and remonstrate against another attempt, with his broken battalions,
to subjugate so powerful an empire. Respectfully, but firmly, they
demanded to be taken back to Cuba. All the arguments and entreaties of
Cortez were of no avail to change their minds or to allay their
anxieties.
We have before mentioned that a detachment of soldiers from Vera Cruz
had been cut off by the natives. The assailing force was from one of
the Mexican provinces in the vicinity of Tlascala, called Tepeaca. The
soldiers, without much unwillingness, consented to march to their
region, and chastise them for the deed. The enterprise would be
attended with but little danger, and promised a large amount of booty.
It was now the month of August. Cortez headed the expedition, and in
the foray of a few weeks, after an enormous slaughter of the
Tepeacans, reduced the province to subjection, and returned to
Tlascala laden with plunder. Another foray was soon undertaken, and
then another. Thus, for five months, while he was collecting recruits
and accumulating supplies, he adroitly kept his men employed in
various military expeditions till they again became accustomed to
victory, and were ready to enter upon a wider field of glory, which
should open before them more brilliant prospects for wealth. Fortune,
it is said, helps those who help themselves. This inflexibility of
purpose and untiring energy on the part of Cortez, was accompanied by
what is usually termed the gifts of peculiarly good fortune.
The Governor of Cuba, unaware of the disaster which had befallen
Narvaez, sent two ships after him with a supply of men and military
stores. These vessels were decoyed into the harbor of Vera Cruz, the
stores seized, and the men were easily induced to enter into the
service of Cortez.
The Governor of Jamaica fitted out an expedition of three ships to
prosecute an expedition of discovery and conquest. They were very
unfortunate, and, after many disasters, these ships, their crews being
almost in a famishing state, cast anchor at Vera Cruz. They listened
eagerly to the brilliant prospects which Cortez held out to them, and
enlisted under his banner. At the same time, it also happened that a
ship arrived from Spain, fitted out by some private merchants with
military stores, and other articles for traffic among the natives.
Cortez immediately purchased the cargo, and induced the crew to follow
the example of the others, and join his army. At last, the agents he
sent to Hispaniola and Jamaica returned, with two hundred soldiers,
eighty horses, two battering-cannon, and a considerable supply of
ammunition and muskets. Cortez had in these various ways now collected
about him eight hundred and eighteen foot-soldiers, eighty-six
horsemen, three battering-cannon, and fifteen field-pieces.
He established his head-quarters at Tepeaca, on a small river which
ran into the lake. The iron, the planks, the timber, the masts, the
cordage, and the materials necessary to construct and equip a fleet
of thirteen brigantines, were to be carried a distance of sixty miles,
over rough roads, on the shoulders of men. Eight thousand _men of
burden_ were furnished by the Tlascalans for this work. Tepeaca was
two miles from the shore of the lake, and the rivulet upon which it
was situated was shallow. A large number of natives were employed for
two months in deepening the channel, that the vessels might be floated
down. Though the Mexicans made many attacks while the brigantines were
being built, they were invariably repulsed. At length the fleet was
finished, and the whole army was drawn up to witness, with all the
accompaniments of religious and military pomp, the launching of the
ships. Each vessel received a baptismal name and a blessing from
Father Olmedo. They glided smoothly down the river, and were wafted
out upon the lake, a fleet amply strong to set all the power of the
Mexicans at defiance. A general shout of joy burst from the lips of
the Spaniards and Tlascalans as they observed the triumphant success
of this measure. All despondency now disappeared, and, sanguine of
success, the whole army was eager again to march to the assault of the
capital.