Cortes Defeats Narvaez—Meanwhile the Mexicans, Outraged by Alvarado,
Rise in Revolt—Cortes Returns
Narvaez had advanced to Zempoala. Sandoval, meanwhile, confiding the
colony at Vera Cruz to the protection of the allies, hastened to unite
his force with that of Cortes. They met at a spot about twelve miles
distant from Zempoala, and numbered, all told, not more than two hundred
and fifty men. Cortes steadily advanced upon Zempoala until he was only
a mile away, and Narvaez, who had the utmost contempt for him, deciding
to give battle at once, advanced to meet him with his greatly superior
force. A fierce rain storm occurred that day, and Cortes had so well
chosen a position on the opposite side of a swollen stream that Narvaez
did not discover him. The latter’s soldiers murmured and protested there
was no enemy in the vicinity. “What is the use,” they exclaimed, “of
staying here to fight the elements? There is no enemy here and nothing
to fear in such stormy weather. Let us return to Zempoala and be ready
in the morning to defeat the enemy if he appears.” Narvaez, who was not
at all disinclined to follow their suggestion, returned, gave the
necessary instructions for their safety, and then displayed the most
utter negligence, as if no enemy were near. His soldiers, many of whom
were not yet accustomed to the hardships of the march, were delighted
with the arrangements and were equally negligent. Cortes, believing that
Narvaez’ contempt for him, and the fatigue of his not yet hardened
soldiers, would lead them to be off their guard, decided to make a night
attack. He drew up his little army, explained his purpose, and found to
his great delight that it was not at all necessary to encourage them in
this venturesome task as all expressed their greatest willingness to
follow him. The army was divided into three detachments, one led by
Sandoval, one by Olid, and the other by Cortes himself.
It was one of the darkest and most inhospitable nights imaginable. The
swollen stream rushed along like a mountain torrent, and there was no
way of crossing it except by fording. Cortes was the first to plunge in,
and his men followed him with enthusiastic alacrity. The water was up to
their necks, but all save two men safely reached the other side. The
dripping soldiers formed in order and marched to Zempoala in death-like
stillness, each carrying a sword, a dagger, and a long Indian spear. The
spear was for use against the enemy’s cavalry. Cortes’ conjectures were
confirmed. Narvaez was so unconcerned that he had placed only two
sentinels on guard. One of these was surprised and taken prisoner, the
other escaped and fled to the city in a panic of fear to give the alarm.
Narvaez’ contempt for his enemy was so great that he declared the
sentinel had been dreaming and that it was ridiculous to imagine that
Cortes would dare to attack him voluntarily with a handful of men.
Suddenly he heard the battle cry as Cortes and his men hurled themselves
upon the city like a thunderstorm, terror following in their wake. Too
late Narvaez realized his foolish error, but he hastened as fast as he
could to rally his men. He and his troops were quartered in and around a
great temple which the enemy stormed so quickly and irresistibly that
only a single cannon could be used against them. Sandoval, who commanded
the advance, captured the cannon and drove the enemy helter-skelter up
the temple steps. The struggle was a desperate one. Narvaez, who was in
the temple, sought to rally his men and inspire them with the example of
his own courage, but Sandoval continued driving them before him. Olid
supported him, and Cortes, who forgot for the moment that he was the
commander, sprang to the front and inspired his men with his own daring.
A soldier in Cortes’ troops suddenly discovered that fire had broken out
among the reeds on the roof of the temple. The building was immediately
in flames and Narvaez found himself forced to leave. He strove at the
head of his men to make his way out, but a spear was thrust in his eye
and he fell. Sandoval seized him, dragged him down the stairs quickly,
bound him, and bore him to a place of safety in the rear. The victors
raised a triumphant shout, and the enemy, now without a leader, became
so panic-stricken that their resistance grew weaker and weaker. A
general holocaust would have been inevitable had not Cortes offered
pardon to all who should come out and surrender. Narvaez’ men had seen a
countless number of little flickering lights in the darkness of the
night, which resembled matches, and which led them to believe Cortes had
a large force of arquebusiers posted in the thickets, for fire-arms at
that time were always discharged by matches. This fancy—for these lights
were made by glow-worms—increased the alarm of the enemy, and at last no
further resistance was made.
The victory was complete. While the air was full of the shouts of the
victors Cortes seated himself and, after throwing a richly embroidered
cloak about his shoulders, received the congratulations of his officers
and soldiers. He graciously permitted the common soldiers to kiss his
hand, paid special distinction to the officers, and cordially greeted
those of the enemy who had once been his friends. Indeed he treated them
in such a considerate manner that those who but a short time since had
fought against him became his friends. In this way his little army was
increased by the addition of eight hundred fresh and well-armed
soldiers, an increase which secured for him the most powerful army yet
seen in that part of the world. As soon as the wounded Narvaez came to
himself it was with a deadly feeling of humiliation that he found
himself chained hand and foot and in the power of the enemy for whom he
had had so much contempt. Cortes desired to see him without his
knowledge so that he might not seem to be gloating over his misfortune,
but as soon as he entered the room the respect shown by the soldiers in
attendance betrayed his presence. The proud Narvaez turned to him and
said: “Señor Cortes, you have cause to congratulate yourself upon the
good luck which has made me your prisoner.” Such haughtiness seemed to
need some reproof, so Cortes replied: “All that God does is well done;
meanwhile, I assure you that I consider the victory just won and your
capture as among my slightest achievements.” Cortes kept him bound and
had him taken to Vera Cruz.
Hardly had Cortes enjoyed a few hours of rejoicing over his quick and
glorious victory than his attention was directed to fresh dangers which
had arisen, like a distant storm, in another place. Messengers came from
Mexico with the unpleasant news that the people of the city had risen in
revolt and attacked the Spaniards left behind, and that Alvarado was
trying to protect himself against them in his stronghold. Montezuma
himself had sent one of his people to implore Cortes to return as
quickly as possible and put down the uprising. The danger was so great
and threatening that Cortes lost no time in going to the rescue of his
people. After he had provided for the safety of the vessels by manning
them with his own crews, he placed himself at the head of his now
formidable army and marched as rapidly as possible through Tlaxcala to
the capital. The faithful Tlaxcalans offered to reinforce him with their
entire war power, but he contented himself by taking only two thousand
men and giving them hearty thanks for their steadfast loyalty. His march
was made in a cautious manner but his good fortune and the simplicity of
the Mexicans made caution superfluous. It would have been easy to cut
off his return to the capital by destroying the causeways, but the
Mexicans were either too stupid or too timorous to do it. Cortes found
them just as he had left them, and nothing stood in the way of his
entrance into the city. This occurred June 24, 1520.
But how different was the manner of this from his first entrance! This
time there was no one to receive him, no one who looked on in
astonishment, no one who raised a cry of joy. All was silent in the
deserted streets, and none of Alvarado’s soldiers was seen until the
Spanish quarters were reached. Then there were cordial greetings on both
sides, embraces, and exultant shouts without end. Alvarado and his men
were delighted at their unexpected deliverance from an appalling danger.
Cortes and his companions were overjoyed with the double pleasure of
victory and meeting their companions, and Montezuma himself, who had
kept his promise not to leave the Spanish quarters, appeared to
sympathize with the delight of his oppressors.
Cortes now learned all that had taken place during his absence.
Infuriated by their treatment at the hands of the malicious Spaniards,
the Mexicans had rushed to arms. Alvarado gave his consent for a
celebration in honor of Pitzliputzli if they would appear at the temple
unarmed. As the Mexicans, among them several hundred of their prominent
men, were engaged in the ceremonies the Spaniards fell upon them and
murdered many. The survivors were infuriated. Neither their own danger
nor that of their imprisoned sovereign deterred them from attacking the
Spanish quarters with such fierceness that Alvarado and his little band
had difficulty in protecting themselves. Then two vessels were burned,
four Spaniards killed, and several wounded. The rest expected their
destruction, but a few days before Cortes’ arrival the Mexicans suddenly
ceased hostilities and remained quiet. With his extraordinary force, and
considering the extreme awe with which the Mexicans regarded him, it
would undoubtedly have been easy for him to have put down the uprising
at once. But his methods of administration were now changed. Intoxicated
with the astonishing good fortune which had accompanied his every move,
he regarded each new danger with the utmost contempt and did not even
consider it worth while any longer to conceal his intentions. From this
time on he utterly disregarded Montezuma and so far abandoned his
previous prudence as to pay no attention to the just indignation of
these outraged people.