_ANOTHER STORM FOR THE PILOT ALAMINOS._
It was the 18th day of February, 1519, an eventful day for many a one
besides Montoro de Diego.
The sun was sparkling on the wavelets in the bay, and on the sails of
the little fleet riding at anchor in the harbour of the so-called town
of Cape St. Vincent, at the westerly extremity of the island of Cuba.
The brilliant rays of that southern sun were also shining on an eager
assemblage of possibly nine hundred men, who considered themselves
quite sufficient for the conquering of great nations.
Dark native faces with smooth cheeks and chins, and surrounded by
lank black hair, showed conspicuously amongst the greater numbers of
their Spanish comrades. Guns, crossbows, gleaming armour, and a small,
precious little troop of sixteen hardly-acquired horses, were also
gathered there on the strand awaiting embarkation. And over all waved
the great banner of black velvet with its embroiderings of gold.
Many of those stern great Spanish eyes were raised with devout gaze to
its crimson cross, set in flames of azure and white, and to its Latin
motto:--
"Friends, let us follow the cross; and under this sign, if we have
faith, we shall conquer."
Once, as Montoro de Diego lifted his glance to those words, he quietly
clasped his hands in silent prayer. But the action had not been secret
enough to escape the observation of that scoffing, sharp-sighted Juan
de Cabrera, and he muttered flippantly--
"Nay then, comrade, lower your looks a little. There yonder is the sign
I follow, and so long as we all hold together and have faith in that,
never you fear but we'll conquer, if even that gay-gilt red and black
thing should fall overboard."
Instinctively Montoro followed the direction of his companions glance
towards the "sign" indicated--a man about his own age, slightly above
middle height, and singularly handsome, both in face and figure.
His complexion was pale, and his large dark eyes gave an expression
of gravity to a countenance otherwise indicating cheerfulness. His
figure was slender, but his chest deep, his shoulders broad, his
frame muscular and well-proportioned, presenting a union of agility
and vigour that qualified him to excel in fencing, horsemanship, and
the other generous exercises of chivalry, and to bear with well-known
indifference any amount of toil and privation.
This strikingly handsome form and countenance were further set off with
all the advantages of rich, well-studied dress, and a few magnificent
ornaments of great value. All combined to mark the frank, gay-hearted
soldier, the cool, resolute, calculating man, born to command, and
determined to be obeyed.
Such was Hernando Cortes, the commander of this present expedition
to the mainland of America, which was destined to be so memorable
for those engaged in it, and for the world. And such as he was, he
possessed the almost unbounded love and confidence, not only of Juan
de Cabrera, but of all those now enlisted under his standard. Officers
and privates, any or all of them, would have cheerfully laid down their
lives for him.
Nevertheless, with some few of them the Cross came first. Gold, renown,
adventure, excitement for themselves, honour for their leader, but
above all, triumph for the Cross; and so ready ears hearkened to him as
he stood there, splendid in hope and beauty and strength, radiant in
the clear morning light, and exclaimed--
"My brothers, we are entering on an enterprise that shall make our
names famous to after-ages. We go from this tiny bay as the conquerors
of nations vaster than our own country, and fit to be the gardens of
Paradise. I hold out to you a glorious prize, but it is to be won by
incessant toil. Great things are achieved only by great exertions,
and glory was never the reward of sloth. If I have laboured hard, and
staked my all on this undertaking, it is for the love of that renown
which is the noblest recompense of man. But if any among you covet
riches more, be but true to me as I will be true to you, and I will
make you masters of such as our countrymen have never dreamed of. You
are few in number, but strong in resolution; and, if this does not
falter, doubt not but that the Almighty, who has never deserted the
Spaniard in his contest with the infidel, will shield you, though
encompassed by a cloud of enemies; for your cause is a just cause, and
you are to fight under the banner of the Cross."[3]
[Footnote 3: 'Hist. Conquest of Mexico,' Prescott.]
"God grant," murmured Diego, "that that sign of Divine love may wave
over scenes less dismal in our future conquests, than it has done in
the past."
But with the exception of the good priest, Father Bartolomé de Olmedo,
none were in a humour to pay attention to the sigh. The spirited
speech of the general had set all the chords of ambition, avarice,
and religious zeal vibrating, and the whole force was burning with
impatience to set out, without a moment's loss of time, on the promised
career of triumphant conquest. Solemn mass was forthwith celebrated by
the two priests accompanying the expedition, the fleet was placed under
the immediate protection of St. Peter, the commander's patron saint,
and, weighing anchor, it took its departure for the coast of Yucatan.
A glorious day for Spain, as men count glory, was that February day of
1519, but so black a day for the unhappy native kingdoms of America
that one learns, almost with a thrill of thankfulness, that it was not
to be all sunshine for the ruthless conquerors. Bright weather gave
place to hurricanes, and the ships were scattered in every direction
in that unknown sea. Only on board the general's own ship was a pilot
who could pretend to any accurate knowledge of those storm-tossed
waters, and even he looked grave, that old Antonio de Alaminos, who had
acted as pilot to the great Columbus in his last voyage in 1502, and
who regarded the fact as the greatest glory of his chequered life.
In the height of the tempest a voice beside his elbow, a voice
singularly clear and sweet even for that Spanish tongue, said calmly,
and with no shade of anxiety in the tones--
"Thinkest thou, Alaminos, that we shall live out the storm?"
The old pilot turned, and cast a hasty glance at the speaker's face. It
was one worth looking at--a noble face, with the stamp of uprightness
on the brow, and a perfect peacefulness in the eyes, even at that
moment when Death's lean claws seemed already to have the cranky ship
in his clutch, and to be dragging it, and its helpless living freight,
into the vortex of those whirlpool depths.
That first swift glance Alaminos repeated with a longer one--one that
had a sudden question in it, and a puzzled memory. At last he asked
quickly--
"Have you been on board this vessel, captain, since we cast off from
St. Jago? Have I seen you, or heard you speak, during the past few
days?"
"Never a word of speech hast thou heard from my lips until now, since
I enrolled myself under the banner of Hernan Cortes," was the answer,
with a passing smile.
"And I have only since yesterday been chosen to form one of the company
on board this ship. Nevertheless, thou hast seen me before, good
Alaminos, and heard my voice, and then," with another of those fleeting
smiles, "thou wast pleased to give me good words in return, as also did
our great and grand old Admiral."
Again that keen, swift, puzzled glance from the old pilot's eyes, ere
he passed his sleeve over them, to get rid of the sudden tribute they
paid to the memory of that same grand old Admiral who had died nearly
thirteen years ago. Montoro blinked his own eyelids for a moment before
he added--
"Ay, Antonio, it is now within a couple of months of seventeen long
years since a lean-cheeked, ignorant boy stole up to thy side one day
in these same waters, and asked thee for the first time that question:
'Thinkest thou that we shall live out this storm?'"
"And as then, so now," answered Antonio de Alaminos, with wondering
recollection, "the storm begins to fall to calm, even as the words are
spoken. Your eyes, Señor, and your voice are the same as then; is the
fearless, holy faith the same that made that wise, noble boy so calm
and brave in the face of death? or--doth the man but mock his boyhood
by the repetition of those words?"
The privileged old pilot put his queries sturdily, and backed them with
one of those clear, searching glances that had the faculty of reading
men as cleverly as shores, shoals, and quicksands. But the heart of
Montoro de Diego had little to hide; the flush that burnt in the
bronzed cheeks was the flush of humility, not shame, as he replied in
tones so lowered as scarcely to be audible against the wind--
"The man is, I fear, no wiser, no nobler, than the boy could claim to
be, but he does hold fast to his boyhood's one little bit of wisdom, in
clinging to the fount of all wisdom and salvation."
"Salvation!" exclaimed a voice close at hand from one who had come
forward unobserved, and had caught the last word; "ay, indeed, this
lull hath been our salvation, I verily believe. Thanks be to St.
Peter for his guardianship. I vow the first handful of gold-dust to
his shrine, if we ride safely at anchor off the shores of Cozumel by
nightfall."
So spoke Hernando Cortes, and as he spoke he laid his hand with
friendly familiarity on Montoro's shoulder.
"Dost recollect, Diego," he said, smiling, "how I prevailed upon thee,
now six years ago, to be one of Velasquez' followers in the conquest of
Cuba? Little we thought then of the time to come, when thou shouldst be
a follower of mine for a far greater enterprise."
Montoro's face reflected his companion's smile as he replied--
"Perhaps it were best to beware of boasting until we are beyond
Velasquez' reach."
Cortes laughed outright.
"Ah ah! how sorely he repents him already, the poor Governor, that he
gave me this command. Verily, Montoro, I think I owe you as many thanks
as myself for getting away from Cuba before his messengers could stop
us. You are the quickest, readiest fellow I ever saw."
"In flight," exclaimed Juan de Cabrera, sauntering up, and with a
mischievous nod of his head. "Will he be as good, think you, captain,
at a fight?"
"Stand forth and learn," cried Montoro, as he drew his sword, and
flashed it in his friend's face with a suddenness which made that
worthy start back against the vessel's side.
Montoro and Cortes joined in a shout of laughter.
"Well, my friend," said Cortes, "thou hast well earned thy answer and
received it."
For once the temper of the easy-going cavalier seemed somewhat ruffled
as he growled out--
"The beggar brats in the streets of Madrid can be ready enough in their
onslaughts on defenceless foes. They are as swift another way when an
officer of justice shows his face."
Montoro de Diego restored his sword to its sheath, and stepped up to
the angry knight with outstretched hand.
"Forgive my jest, Don Juan," he said with a smile. "You should do so
the more easily, inasmuch as you must remember that I did but turn your
own against yourself. I have little fear that when need comes either
you or I will be found wanting in due bravery."
"And I have still less," added Cortes. "Meantime I confess that I
should turn coward, did I find my best friends drawing on me."
Thus cleverly did the Commander of the present bold enterprise heal
any little remnant of soreness that might have rankled in the breast of
one of his retainers.
With enemies of his own countrymen behind him, and a nation likely to
prove filled with formidable foes before him, Hernando Cortes felt
anxious enough to have good fellowship reigning in his camp.
"How else," he said a little later on to Montoro, between jest and
earnest--"how else, friend Diego, thinkest thou that I shall be able to
obtain for our gracious and royal master those 'comfortable presents of
gold, pearls, and precious stones,' which are required of us, as proofs
of the natives' good-will and the success of our expedition?"
Montoro shrugged his shoulders with some haughty impatience.
"Methinks, Captain, with our countrymen now-a-days it is gold before
all things. If possible, no doubt, gold and glory both; but if not,
gold at any rate, even with disgrace."
This time it was the handsome face of the Commander that flushed hotly.
"Diego, you use hard words."
"But just ones," was the firm reply; "although I apply them not to you.
Left free to the dictates of your own noble nature, I shall not fear
the having bound myself to follow you. But"--with a look around, and
in lower tones--"there are those in your band may be too strong for
you--those whose one article of faith for themselves is, 'I believe in
the delights of wealth!' whose one article of belief for the natives of
these regions is, 'Beggar yourselves for us, and you shall be saved as
future footstools for our feet in heaven. Do otherwise, and you shall
be slaughtered here and damned hereafter.' Am I not right?"
For answer Cortes imitated his companion's shrug of the shoulders.
"But I promise you this," he added--"I will make an example of the very
first who transgress."
"Thanks for the assurance," said the other.
And then, a disabled barque coming in sight, Cortes went off to give
orders as to aiding it to gain the port of Cozumel.