Roger at Bay
"Creep to the fire and gently throw some wood on it," whispered Roger in
Tamba's ear, as soon as he was sure that the enemy were coming. "Be
careful that they do not see you against the light. I will wait here
till you rejoin me; and recollect, when they advance make no movement
till I give the word, or, rather, till you hear me throw one of the
bricks. I shall rely on those to defeat them."
The native went off into the darkness as if he were a ghost, and
presently, as Roger looked, he saw that the flames were licking round
the new fuel.
"The light will help us, while it will not show our figures," he said to
himself with a feeling of satisfaction, for it happened that one of the
corner towers threw a deep shadow where he was. "Our best defence will
be to act in silence. Our bricks ought to account for a few, and after
that I have a method which may check them. Ah! they are coming rapidly,
and Tamba will have to hurry. He is a long while away."
A second or two later the native appeared at his side, or, rather, Roger
knew he was there, for Tamba touched his arm. He had approached in
absolute silence.
"They are on the last terrace below," he whispered in Roger's ear. "I
heard them talking. The fire is built up, and will give a better light
in a little while. I thought it would be well to look at the prisoners.
They are asleep, master. We have no need to expect treachery from them."
"Then we shall be all the better able to defend this place. If we are
rushed, we run to our new defence, while they will probably go to the
chapel where the idol lies. Perhaps we might even descend during the
darkness."
"We might, master; but there is a ring of sentries about us. I saw them
as I watched. We are more secure up here than in any other place.
Fortune has favoured us."
"Hist! They are nearer. Silence, and gather your bricks."
They leaned over the pile which they had accumulated close to the top of
the steps, and filled an arm. Then, with one ready in their hands, and a
sufficient space between them to give ample room for throwing, they
waited. By now the fire had commenced to burn up a little, and the
flames illuminated the top of the stairs feebly, showing the big jars of
earth. Roger watched them, and heard whispering, for the Mexicans had
also seen the obstruction. Then a man's head squeezed between two of
them, while his body slowly wriggled its way through the narrow opening.
A second appeared at another, while a third, a venturesome fellow,
clambered round the outside margin of the one which stood on the very
border of the steps. A slip of the hand, a toppling of the jar, would
have sent him into space, with a fall of some hundreds of feet below
him. Roger lifted his arm, aimed for the central man, and launched his
brick. There was a dull thud, a shriek--more of fear than of pain--and
the Mexican withdrew. Then Tamba attempted the same, and with equal
fortune, his brick glancing from the man's back and clattering down the
stairs. As yet not a sound other than the shriek had come from either of
the combatants. But now a voice was heard. Some one gave a sharp order,
and at once an attempt was made to repeat the process of wriggling
through, while, on the side nearest to the centre of the tower, arms
encircled the jar, and an effort was made to remove it. But Roger
frustrated the attempt, a well-aimed brick crashing against one of the
arms, and breaking it as if it had been a stick. Meanwhile Tamba had
pelted the others, and had caused them to withdraw.
"They are talking again," whispered Roger, as he crouched in the
darkness. "We will remain here till they attempt to remove the jars, and
then we will use our swords. Make no noise, but cut at them with all
your strength. If they become dangerous, wait for my shout, and then do
what I order."
There was a lull for some few minutes, while the ever-brightening fire
permitted the defenders to see that no one was at their obstruction. But
down below an occasional dusky figure could be observed, while there was
the dull sound of whispered conversation, and a click now and again as a
club or sword struck the masonry. Suddenly there was silence again, and
Roger nudged Tamba.
"A sure warning," he whispered. "Get your sword ready. But one second.
Can they possibly reach us in any other way?"
"It is out of the question, master. The walls are steep and smooth, and
there is no one to lower a rope. We have only the stairs to defend."
"Then I have little fear. If I were unarmed I could hold them, I think,
unless they came prepared to cut us down. That would be different."
It would indeed have made a vast amount of difference, and would nearly
certainly have led to capture or death. But these Mexicans had a blind
faith in their war god and other deities, and groaned under a system of
superstition which the priests took good care to keep alive. It would
have been far easier, and far better for themselves, to fling themselves
against these foreigners with their best arms, and cut them down by
sheer advantage of numbers. But their superstition taught them that a
sacrifice was needed, that prisoners should not be slain in battle, but
merely taken with as little hurt as possible, so that they might be
afterwards offered to their idols. And now that they had a huge and
strange opponent to deal with, one who fought with his hands in a manner
which none had ever seen, they still adhered to their practice,
determining to take him alive. It gave Roger and his comrade an enormous
advantage--an advantage which they needed, however, even though they
held such a commanding position. For the Mexicans had the numbers. Life
was of no consequence, and they were prepared to throw away many of
their fighting men to attain their object. The insult to their deities
lent added desperation to their attack, and when they advanced up the
stairs again it was with the determination to conquer. They found on the
upper side of the barrier a young giant filled with equal
determination, prepared to seize his enemies, and, if he were surrounded
and capture imminent, to drag them all by sheer force to the edge of the
tower, and there hurl himself and his captors to the court below. Yes;
let the reader imagine himself in a similar predicament, and he may
realize to some small degree the desperate valour with which Roger was
filled, and the reckless thoughts which flowed through his mind.
"Anything is better than that hideous altar and the sacrifice," he told
himself; and he prepared to act up to the thought.
But the Mexicans were advancing, and a shout rang out from the stairs
below. It was answered from every quarter of the city, telling the
defenders that thousands were waiting to learn the issue, and to praise
their comrades if successful. There was movement on the towers all
round, seen by the aid of the fires, while a murmur came from the courts
below.
"Waiting for us," said Roger, grimly. "We will give them work to do
before we are taken. Now, prepare."
The shuffle of feet was heard on the bricked steps, and soon a number of
figures appeared behind the jars. But on this occasion there was no
waiting. The Mexicans commenced to creep between them, while others were
hoisted by their comrades and clambered over the top. They were met with
a fusillade of bricks, which hardly deterred them. Then Roger and Tamba
silently leapt forward from their dark nook behind the smaller tower,
and fell on the enemy with the native swords. The sound of their blows
could be easily heard at first, but in a minute the air was filled with
shrieks and cries, while a hoarse roar came from the streets below.
Three men fell in as many seconds to their blows, while Roger contrived
to stun one of the enemy who was clambering over the obstacle, dropping
him like a stone on the very top, where he hung amidst the flowers. But
others followed, and soon it was clear that the rush would succeed.
"They are getting too strong for us," gasped Roger, during a short
pause. "We will try once more, and then if not successful we will upset
the jars. When I shout, place your foot against the one before you, and
push with all your strength. It will topple over, and in the confusion
we will rush down upon them. Fists will then be better than swords, and
I shall make use of mine just as I did before."
He had hardly time for the words before the enemy came on again. Their
shouts were deafening, while there was little doubt that their courage
was increased by the clamour of their friends below. This time they
swarmed over the huge vases of flowers, and threatened to overcome the
two defenders before they could strike them down. The time for further
action had arrived even sooner than Roger had anticipated, and with a
shout he gave the order.
Cutting fiercely at the enemy, he made a path for himself, while his
free arm clutched one of the men who was in the act of clambering over.
Then his foot went up to the jar, and he threw all his weight downward.
The thing toppled over, and then suddenly bounded down the steps,
followed by the one which Tamba had taken in hand. But that was not
sufficient. Roger moved to the third, and sent it flying. Then he threw
his sword over his shoulders, and leapt down the steps. But there was
no need for him to strike at a single Mexican, for fierce though these
men were, and doughty fighters as they had proved themselves to be when
opposed to the Spaniards, the sight of Roger brought fear to their
minds, and his extraordinary methods of warfare astounded them. They
were nonplussed and disheartened, and this last measure of defence cowed
them. Indeed, fortune on this dark night had been on the side of those
who held the steps, and the very vases aided them. Toppling over, they
bounded down the steps, carrying some of the men with them. But the last
struck against an edge, and fractured into pieces, the earth and the
plants being shot out into the enemy. In an instant Roger picked up the
larger pieces, and flung them after the Mexicans, while Tamba raced back
for an armful of bricks, and hurled them down the steps. There was a
series of loud bangs, a chorus of shrieks, and the Mexicans were gone,
their flight being accelerated by the missiles which the two above
poured upon their heads. Indeed, once they had reached the court below
they raced to their houses, saying that the white man, the giant who had
come amongst them, was a god in no way less than their own deities.
"That ends the trouble for to-night," said Roger, with a hearty laugh,
for he was beginning to regain his assurance, and numbers no longer
troubled him as they had done a few hours before. "We can sit down and
rest, and, by the way, I think I am hungry."
"Then I will fetch food and water, master. Sit here till I return. I
will go to our lodgings quietly, for it will be as well to see how our
prisoners are behaving."
He was gone like a ghost again, for this native, accustomed from his
childhood to hunting and life in the forest, and being barefooted, could
pass from one spot to another without so much as a sound. Indeed, Roger
had already learned much from him, for he had watched his methods in the
forest, when he himself was too weak to do much more than stand or sit.
Tamba had an eagle-like glance, an eye which detected everything and
allowed nothing to pass. Even when creeping through the underwood in
search of an enemy, he seemed to see the path at his knees as well as
the forest ahead, and, as if intuitively, felt and removed the sticks
and thorns in his way. It was an easy matter, therefore, for him to
cross the tiled summit of the tower, and no one heard him, not even the
prisoners, though the sound of the conflict had rendered them alert.
Tamba crept to the new quarters which Roger had selected, and stared in
cautiously. He found the noble diligently talking to the priest, and the
latter nodding. As the native entered they both looked up, and it was
plain from their innocent expressions that they had not been plotting.
"You have been successful again?" asked the noble. "Then I am glad," he
added, as Tamba nodded; "for it is as well that my countrymen should
learn soon that it is useless to fight with such a man. He bears a
charmed life, and is truly a great lord, greater even than this Malinché
(the native word for Cortes). Tell me, have many fallen, have many lost
their lives?"
"None, I believe. We beat them back with swords and bricks. Many are
hurt, but they will not die."
"I am glad," was the simple answer; "for then the people will be all the
more ready to forgive, to forget the fighting, and accept this young
lord as a friend. Did they but know the use that he will be to our arms,
they would long ago have welcomed him with shouts of joy. But they
thought him a Spaniard, just as I did, and the priest here also, and
those we do not spare. Tell me how you met with this lord, and how it is
that you are his servant."
Tamba hastened to tell the story, while he gathered food and took a bowl
full of water.
"I will send my lord," he said, "and he will discuss this matter with
you. He will be glad to talk."
A little later he appeared at Roger's side, and told him what had
occurred.
"They are desirous of making peace," he said, beating his hands together
to show his delight. "The priest thinks now that you are a mighty man,
even as I do, my lord. Go to them. I said that you would come and talk
this matter over. Perhaps when the morning comes our danger will have
passed, and we shall become the friends of the Mexicans."
The news was excellent, almost too good to be true, and the relief to
Roger was immense. He gulped down the food hastily, and emptied the bowl
at a draught. Then he waited while Tamba went for a second supply, and
having seen him posted at the head of the stairs, and given strict
orders to him that he was to patrol round the terrace and watch every
side, he slipped off to the little chamber in which the two Mexicans
were seated, and pushed the curtain aside. Then he clambered over the
forms which had been placed to barricade the door, and was in the act of
seating himself when the noble and the priest rose to their feet. The
latter had hunted out a tiny oil lamp, and this afforded sufficient
light to show their features. Roger noticed with a thrill that the
priest no longer scowled, and rubbed his elbows, as if to remind himself
of his injuries. He made a deep obeisance, and spoke gravely.
"He says that you are a god, and that after this he will obey your
wishes," said the noble. "He speaks the words which I also think. Surely
you are a god, a different man from these others who have come here to
hunt us for our gold, and to take us into captivity."
"Tell him that I thank him, and am glad that he is prepared to be
friendly," said Roger, simply, motioning them to be seated, while he
threw himself on a lounge on which the priest on duty was wont to rest.
"Say, however, that I am no god; that there is but one God, the ruler of
the whole earth."
The noble nodded and repeated the words, at which the priest looked
pleased. Then they chatted together for a little while.
"It is as we thought," said the noble at length. "This Malinché has come
to us with a new religion, and holds these gods of ours in scorn. He
would do with them as he has done with those of another race close to
the sea coast, and would force us to adopt his religion, even at the
point of his lances. But we wait conviction, and we also have something
of this religion; for listen, Roger." He pronounced the word in a
strange accent, and looked our hero earnestly in the eyes. "We also know
that there is one God, who cares for all, whoever they may be, but we
also believe that there are others under Him. We worship them, and offer
sacrifices to them because we can see their images. The idols are before
us, while this other God is invisible. We do honour to Him through these
images which we have put on the towers, and we also pay respect to the
sun. Let these Spaniards prove that this is wrong, and we will listen to
their arguments. But we will not be forced into a belief which we do not
really feel. Let them show that these sacrifices are wrong."
"They are detestable!" said Roger, with decision, facing the two. "They
are undoubtedly cruel and wrong, and some of you will live to believe
that. But I cannot talk of these matters. I say that I am not a god, and
that I am not a Spaniard. I came to these parts with comrades, at the
bidding of a mighty king, and I hoped to obtain wealth. Yes, I admit
that we hoped to gain gold and jewels, but not by force, except from the
Spaniards. They opposed us from the first, and fought us. For that we
are right, if we attack them in return. As for the land, it should be a
fine thing for Mexico if Englishmen governed it."
"Perhaps it will come to that, Roger, but we will speak of yourself,
though in spite of your words we believe that you are some powerful
lord, a noble in your own land, if not a god, who has come to aid us at
this critical time. When the morning comes we will speak to the people
and to our king. We ask whether you will trust us to descend and meet
our comrades?"
"You can go," said Roger, promptly, for they had already proved their
intention to be faithful. "I will trust you, and will look for your
return. I captured you so that you might remain in my hands as
hostages."
"And we will return to you for that reason, my lord. We will set out
when the sun has risen, and will come to you again before the day falls.
And we will send food and water to you, and clothes to replace your own.
Yes, it would be better that you should don our dress," he added, "for
then there will be nothing to remind us of these hated enemies. Ah, you
wonder why I speak the tongue, and I will tell you. Perhaps I have done
my nation a service by doing so, however."
"It has proved my salvation," answered Roger, warmly. "But how did you
learn? Tell me when you first met these Spaniards, and what has
happened."
"Wait till the dawn comes, my lord," answered the noble; "then I will
speak. You have need of sleep, and will do well to take it. To-morrow,
if my words are received, you will go to the king, and he will show you
honour. Then the people will shout and follow you to your quarters. Have
no fear. You can sleep as if you were surrounded by friends."
Roger thanked him, and rose to rejoin Tamba. He found the latter softly
patrolling the terrace, and listened to his report.
"Not a man to be seen except on the towers, where priests have
replenished the fires. The city is quiet, and no one else is stirring."
"Then we will take turns to sleep," said Roger. "I am tired with the
fight, and will lie down now. Wake me in two hours, and I will relieve
you. After that it will be morning, and let us hope that it will dawn
brightly for us."
He paced round the terrace, and then, satisfied that all was quiet,
stretched himself on the tiles. He was an old campaigner now, for even a
matter of three months roughing it makes a man accept hardships as
trifles. Roger had slept in many strange places since he sailed from
England, and a bed beneath the trees of the forest, or on the deck of
the brigantine, or on these hard tiles, came as welcome to him as would
a feather mattress at home. It was therefore only a few minutes before
his heavy breathing told that he was asleep. Nor did he move till Tamba
came to his side and shook him.
"The dawn is breaking clear and bright, my lord," he said. "It is time
to rise and take a meal."
"But I meant to watch. I said that I would relieve you," exclaimed our
hero, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You were tired too. Why did you
not rouse me earlier?"
"You had done all the fighting and were worn out, master," was the
simple answer. "I am used to watching throughout the night, and the loss
of sleep is nothing to me. You require your strength, and it is better
that you should rest, better for yourself, for you are stronger to
fight, and better also for me, because then you are able to protect me."
The argument silenced Roger, though he did not forget. But it was only
another method by which the native showed his devotion. He was a
faithful fellow, who lived to serve this humble crossbow youth, and he
seemed to anticipate every want. Indeed, when Roger had risen from the
tiles he found a meal of bananas and a bowl of water beside him, and in
spite of the food he had taken during the night, fell upon it hungrily.
Then he went to the edge of the terrace and stared out at the city of
Mexico, tracing its boundaries and marking the viaducts which led to its
heart, and the aqueducts which brought clear water to the townspeople,
for the lake about the walls was salt and unfit for drinking purposes.
We will leave him there for a little while, for this city was
sufficiently beautiful in these days to attract the eye by the hour
together. Indeed, it was a second Venice, rivalling that magnificent
city by the water, and justly laying claim to being the finest and the
most beautiful city the world could produce. Nor has a better ever been
built since old Mexico disappeared.
Let us now return to the coast for a little while and see what fortune
had befallen Fernando Cortes after he had sailed from Tabasco, bringing
with him the native woman, Marina, for that was the name given to this
slave when she was baptized by the Spaniards. The reader will remember
that Cortes disembarked at a port to which he gave the name of St. Juan
de Ulua, and that there he met with a friendly reception from the
natives, and also received envoys from the great king Montezuma, ruler
of the wide provinces over which the Mexicans held sway. He will
recollect also that this king sent rich gifts, while forbidding the
strangers to come nearer to his city, and that, for his own reasons,
Cortes defied the order, and determined to go; for to have retired to
Cuba would have meant his ruin, he already having disobeyed orders. Now
he showed the firm material of which he was made, and also displayed no
small amount of astuteness. For it happened that tales began to filter
into the Spanish camp, telling of the huge armies of the Mexicans, and
of their ferocity in warfare. These had their effect in time, and it is
not to be wondered at that some of the soldiers under Cortes began to
have fears. Not all had his reasons for not turning back. They could
come again, and no punishment or disgrace awaited them in Cuba. And at
length the camp became broken into two factions, one of which went with
their leader, while the other clamoured for retreat.
Had Cortes declined to listen to these men it is possible that he would
have made many enemies, and that more would have urged the retreat. But
he shewed his astuteness by hearing what they had to say and agreeing to
go if they so wished. He even prepared for the embarkation, while he
secretly set his own faction to work to point out the gold and wealth to
be obtained, and to hold before the soldiers the honours they would win.
The plot proved successful, so that at length the malcontents approached
him again and urged him to remain. It is needless to tell how he
demurred as if he himself wished to leave, and how at length the crafty
leader consented to march on, providing his actions were duly set down
on paper for the information of those at home. He declared the
conditions of the expedition altered, and had a new set of rules drawn
up. Then, having shifted his base a little higher up the coast to a port
to which was given the name of Vera Cruz, he stripped the ships of
their canvas and cordage and of all that they possessed in the way of
guns and stores, and had them destroyed. He burnt his boats behind him,
made escape impossible, and left death or victory alone to stare his men
in the face. Never was there a more reckless or a more astute action,
reckless because of his paucity of numbers and the overwhelming armies
of the enemy, and astute because there was now no turning back, there
was no retreating; the only course was a forward one, in the direction
of Mexico.
And now to tell briefly how it happened that circumstances played into
the hands of the adventurer, Fernando Cortes. It has already been told
how the Mexicans were accustomed to battle with their neighbours with
the sole object of obtaining prisoners who would serve as a sacrifice to
their hideous deities, and how these fierce fighters entered the
struggle with the intention of killing as few as possible and of
capturing many. Their opponents very naturally did all that was possible
to slay the Mexicans and escape. They themselves were not so addicted to
the human sacrifice as were the men of Mexico, and the fate of the
prisoners naturally made them fight with ferocity. But Mexico was
strong. She had for very many years had a triple alliance, and her two
allies were the Tezcucans and the small kingdom of Tlacopan, all at that
time situated in the valley in which the lakes lay. When first this
alliance was formed none of the three states was at all strong, and
there was another race which dominated them. But the three together,
once they had settled their differences and made friends, became a very
powerful force, so much so they soon conquered this other race, and
subjected it entirely. That done, they went to war with all the other
states in the valley--for this fertile spot was thickly populated--and
subjected their enemies, when they began to go farther afield, so much
so that Mexico claimed a kingdom stretching from Atlantic to Pacific.
Her numerous vassal states paid her tribute in specie and in slaves, and
human toll was taken of all to satisfy their morbid craving for
sacrificing.
It was at this juncture, when the taxes imposed were becoming too
burdensome, when the same melancholy was beginning to settle down upon
these remoter states, that Fernando Cortes and his ridiculously small
force arrived, and making friends with the Cempoalans, a coast tribe of
large proportions, advised them to refuse their usual tribute. He set
them an example by seizing Montezuma's collectors. That done he
determined to check the abominable practice of human sacrifice, which
the Cempoalans indulged in to a minor degree. He raided their temples
and destroyed their divinities, and when they would have rushed to arms
and attacked him, he seized their cacique and the chiefs, and threatened
to kill them if there was trouble. That pacified them, for the
Cempoalans were beginning to feel as much respect for this strong man
who had so unexpectedly come amongst them as they had felt for centuries
for their gods. They fell in with his wishes, whitewashed their temples,
removed all trace of sacrifice, and set up crosses. Then their own
priests took charge of the new temples. Finally, he received the nation
of Cempoalans as vassals to the king of Spain, a king whose orders,
given through his governor of Cuba, he himself had directly
disregarded.
He was now in possession of allies, and set off for Mexico. His first
march was to Tlascala, where he met with much opposition, and at one
time had some hundred and fifty thousand adversaries confronting him.
But his horses and the superior armour of his men, together with the
supernatural power with which he and all from Spain were now accredited,
aided him in defeating them, and in a little while he induced these
people to become his allies.
His next march was to Cholula, far down in the valley, where he learned,
by the help of Marina, that there was a plot afoot whereby twenty
thousand Mexicans were to fall upon his troops in the streets. Cortes
took means to punish the people summarily, and no sooner had he made his
preparations, than he and his men attacked the Cholulans, and massacred
very many. It was a cruel and a severe lesson, and it helped to bring
home to all the valley the fact that a troublesome time was come, and
that the strangers were likely to prove strong. Indeed, Fernando Cortes
behaved as if he had an army of many thousands, and as if he were aware
that none could stay his march. His astuteness had gained for him huge
numbers of allies, but these were still insufficient to quell the nation
of Mexicans, who would be joined by their allies. However, the Spaniard
did not falter. He had declared that he would march to Mexico, and see
this Montezuma and his riches, and march he did, right to the city,
passing through many towns of larger dimensions than any to be seen in
Spain, and seeing buildings and streets, the like of which he and his
men had never even imagined. Then, too, on every side there were signs
of industry going hand-in-hand with this hideous sacrifice of human
beings. Every foot of earth was carefully tilled, houses were well and
securely built, and the tribes were governed in the most orderly manner.
They had their priests, their judges, and their officers of the crown.
Then, too, they had their historians, for though the Mexicans knew no
alphabet, they put down their meaning by signs and pictures, and there
was a college for the training of picture writers, an art now entirely
lost. In fact, Cortes had arrived in a country where dwelt a marvellous
people, infinitely more civilized than he could have expected, and
particularly when compared with the natives of Cuba and adjacent isles.
And these tribes had beautiful cities, excellent houses, an almost
perfect administration, and a system of labour which provided work for
all. There were no beggars, and all lived and fared well. In fact,
luxuries were common throughout the land ruled over by Montezuma, while
it is reported of that monarch that he dined off fresh fish, received
within twenty-four hours of the catching, from a port two hundred miles
away. It may be wondered how such a thing was possible, when no animal
of any description was used for work. But the system of runners or
couriers before alluded to made the matter possible, and helped to prove
to Cortes that these Mexicans were indeed a wonderful nation.
The Spaniards entered Mexico peacefully, and were received by Montezuma
and by his people with awe, for now another circumstance came to help
them. It happened that among the superstitions of the race was one
concerning the god of air, called Quetzalcoatl, who was supposed to be
chiefly instrumental in teaching the arts of metal-working, the methods
of good government, and many other matters which aided in keeping the
state successful and prosperous. This god had disappeared; it was said
he had gone to the coast, to the Gulf of Mexico, and had there taken his
place in a skiff made of serpents' skins. He had sailed away, promising
to return with his descendants. Report said of him that he was tall, had
a white skin and a flowing beard, with long hair over his shoulders.
What wonder if this superstitious nation took Fernando for the god of
air, and received him with joy! He had shown his superiority by
disobeying the orders of Montezuma, a fact sufficient to declare him a
superior being. He was white, and if not tall, he was moderately so. The
description fitted the Spanish leader sufficiently well, while Mexican
superstition and the chatter of the priests did the rest. Fernando was
received with joy. Thousands of richly-dressed nobles crossed the
viaduct to meet him, while Montezuma even came some way to do him
honour. Quarters were assigned to the force, while their allies remained
within call outside the city. Cortes had accomplished his desire; he had
come to Mexico, and we shall learn in due course how his boldness was
rewarded.