_MONTORO LEADS A CHANT._
"The ships are burnt!" "Our ships are burnt!" resounded on all sides
from the Spanish troops rushing from their quarters in that new Villa
Rica de Vera Cruz.
Consternation, fear, and fury gave ever-increasing emphasis to that one
wild, startled shout, "Our ships are burnt!"
"Said I not well," muttered the discontented priest Father Juan Diaz,
instigator of the former conspiracy--"said I not well that this Cortes
was leading us like cattle, for his own renown, to be butchered in the
shambles!"
Even Father Olmedo, and Morla, and others of his stamp, eagerly
watching for opportunities to earn distinction, felt their hearts sink
heavily as they repeated that startled cry, "Our ships are burnt!"
For one half-hour it may have been that Hernando Cortes trembled, and
that his friends feared for him, and for themselves.
"But after all," said Juan de Cabrera, recovering his usual off-hand
carelessness, "one can but die once, and though, as you yourself said,
Captain, one would rather die at the hands of others than one's own
friends, or one's own countrymen, still, when the breath is once fairly
out of the body, I scarcely suppose one will care much what hand drove
it forth."
"That is true," replied Cortes, with a sudden return of his usual
resolute energy and undaunted bearing, and as another tumultuous
shout rent the air throughout the so-called town of Vera Cruz, the
Captain-General strode forth from his hut, and with stentorian tones
exclaimed to his mutinous followers--
"What means this uproar, comrades? If you have complaints to make, I am
here. Make them to me."
"Our ships are burnt, and by your orders," came the reply, but by no
means from all throats now, and from none so loudly as before. Some
were cowed in the actual presence of that resolute commander of theirs,
others were awed into admiration and fresh attachment by his dauntless
attitude.
Still, a certain number there were who yet reiterated that reproachful
cry, "Our ships are burnt!"
"Yes, comrades, it is true," exclaimed Cortes, in tones as loud and
resolute as before. "Our ships are burnt, but not before the foul
creatures of these seas had so eaten through them, that they had been
water coffins for any who had trusted their lives to them for the
voyage back to Spain; ay, or even to our new Santiago yonder. Those who
had gone on board them had gone to their death."
"And those who stay here stay to their death," called a harsh voice
from the midst of the crowd. "You might at least have given us our
choice."
"And so he has, coward," shouted Alvarado. "Stand forth and show
thyself, and any others of thy chattering-teethed brethren, and I will
gather the bundle of you in my arms as one gathers a bundle of cotton,
and fling the worthless bale on shipboard! Faugh! the Captain wants not
such as thou to help him on the road to glory and renown."
The tone of this tirade was more scathing in its contempt than even the
words, and a momentary hush followed it. None stood forth to accept the
untempting offer of its maker.
At length Cortes once again broke the silence. Distinctly, but slowly,
and more calmly than before he addressed his assembled army--
"What the Captain, Don Pedro de Alvarado, saith is true. For those who
chose flight there is still the means. I desire no unwilling comrades.
For me, I have chosen my part. I remain here so long as there is one
to bear me company. But for those who shrink from the dangers of our
glorious enterprise, let them go home, in God's name. There is still
one vessel left. Let them take that and return to Cuba. They can tell
there how they deserted their commander and their comrades, and then
patiently await us until our return with the Aztecs' spoils."[4]
[Footnote 4: 'Hist. Conquest of Mexico.'--Prescott.]
Cortes ceased, and for some moments there was a silence throughout
the small army, broken only by the humming of the insects and the
occasional clink of a sword. But Juan de Cabrera never felt much
reverence for silence.
"How now," he shouted mockingly, "how now, ye bold cravens! Where are
all your voices? Ye were brave enough a few minutes since. Come along
with you to the front. Or are ye, in very truth, turned too cowardly
even to confess your cowardice, ye miserable crew!"
It seemed so, for there was still no answer from even a single voice,
and Cortes wisely changed the question, and in a few moments the whole
air was resounding with the enthusiastic acclaim from every throat:
"To Mexico!--to Mexico! Lead on, Captain! Lead us on to Mexico!"
"All the same," muttered a sullen-browed soldier to Juan Diaz the
priest, who stood beside him--"all the same, father, you did say that
we should be traitors to ourselves if any longer we continued to follow
yon upstart."
"Hold thy peace, fool," returned the discontented ecclesiastic.
"Knowest thou not that for all things, even for revolt, a fitting time
is needful?"
And with that sententious remark the politic priest edged himself away
to safer neighbourhood, and resumed the cry as lustily as the truest
among Cortes' followers--
"To Mexico! Lead on to Mexico!"
Well satisfied with the change effected thus rapidly in his soldiers'
sentiments, the Commander suddenly resolved to give the new-born
enthusiasm a safe outlet, and at the same time to further one of his
own most solemnly-cherished purposes. He raised his hands to claim
silence once more, then his voice. But his efforts were vain. He had
roused a new uproar, which, though a joyous one, was universal, and
more difficult to allay. Threats to fly might be toned down by some
tinge of shame, but offers and entreaties to be allowed to fight needed
no restraint. The cry rang on and on unceasingly:
"To Mexico! Lead on to Mexico!"
"To Mexico indeed! To the depths of the sea with you rather, squalling
rabble that ye are," said Cortes at last impatiently. Turning to the
group of officers about him he added in comic despair: "Can no one
befriend me thus far?"
"How far?" asked Alvarado and Escalante together, and with some wonder.
"How far!" repeated the Captain in a tone of increasing irritation.
"Why, to the extent of ramming something down those screaming throats,
to stop this Babel, to be sure."
Juan de Cabrera gave a delighted leap.
"I have it. I'll set the dogs barking; that will drown them."
"Ay, and thy Captain also," ejaculated Cortes, breaking into a short
laugh in spite of himself. "Wilt thou never outgrow thy boyhood, thou
madcap Juan? Thinkest thou--"
But his remonstrance died away on his lips, and they curved into an
awe-struck smile. From a few feet behind him there arose the first
notes of a solemn chant--loud and strong as a battle-cry, sweet as the
tones of a silver bell.
Alone and unaided the glorious voice sang on for a few moments, and
then Father Olmedo's rich bass joined in, and Pedro de Alvarado's, then
the light tenors of Escalante and Cabrera, and the ringing voice of
Gonzalo de Sandoval.
For the space, perhaps, of a quarter of a minute the shouting soldiers
continued their cry through the chant, "To Mexico! to Mexico!" then,
with a startled sensation of thrilling wonder, the foremost ranks
caught the sweeter sounds, hushed their own discordant tones, paused,
and joined in.
"Hearken!" came the smothered ejaculation of the man Morla to Juan
Diaz, who had just come up to him. And Juan the priest gazed at him
with wide eyes, and then, accepting this new vent for his restlessness,
he too joined in with a tremendous vigour that soon let all ears, that
were not absolutely deaf, in the neighbourhood know what was going
forward.
By some unconscious impulse the rough company of Spanish adventurers
fell upon their knees, and still the solemn chant rose and fell, and
swelled again, on that new-found western shore of an idolatrous land,
to the glory of the one true God.
Cortes alone remained standing, alone remained mute, with his great,
vivacious eyes fixed intently upon the great, earnest ones of Montoro
de Diego. By his own fearlessness and iron will he had quelled the
mutinous mob, by the power of his voice and the power of his faith
Montoro de Diego had subdued it to a noble calm and peace.
The chant ceased; the prayer of Father Olmedo for safety from foes,
and unity amongst themselves, was ended, and rising to his feet again
Montoro asked in clear, loud tones, audible to all around--
"And now, our Captain, since we have consecrated ourselves anew to
brotherhood, what wouldst thou with us? Say on: we hearken."
"Then hear this, first of all," exclaimed the leader with generous
warmth, as he grasped his friend's hand, and clasped it between both
his own. "Hear this: that from my soul I thank thee for thy Christlike
fervour, which has thus taught thee to retune our hearts to reason
after their late frantic turmoil. And for the rest," he added after a
moment's interval, and more lightly, "Ay, for the rest, the remainder
of my speech must wait, for it is ill-rewarded toil haranguing hungry
listeners."
"Yea, verily," softly assented that irrepressible Cabrera. "And the
more so when the said hungry mortals, not to speak of the dogs, poor
starving brutes, can see their victuals waiting for their mouths."
The young cavalier was right, and many other sharp eyes besides his
own had caught sight already of the long train of Indians laden with
provisions. Pheasants, turkeys, roast and boiled, and very good
eating in their native land, even though they were not accompanied
with bread-sauce, and were seasoned with neither chestnuts nor
veal-stuffing. There were, however, plenty of fresh, sweet maize
cakes to eat with them, and enough vegetables to satisfy even a
German. Then, amongst the seasonable gifts were fish of all kinds,
dressed by those clever native cooks in many savoury ways; plantains,
bananas, pine-apples, purple grapes, and even sweet-meats of various
sorts made with the sugar of the agave. Beverages also were not
wanting, from the thick-frothed, rich, vanilla-flavoured chocolate and
cooling fruit-drinks, to the fermented juice of the Mexican aloe, the
intoxicating _pulque_.
Altogether the 'victuals awaiting mouths,' as Cabrera expressed it,
to put it more in accordance with circumstances, the feast awaiting
feasters, was of such quality and quantity as to make it quite as well,
perhaps, that Hernando Cortes decided to dispense with his followers'
attention for the present.
"To claim a patient hearing for a discourse, while those savoury meats
were cooling, really might prove too much for the forbearance of even
our good Father Olmedo himself," said Cortes smiling, as he linked his
arm within that of the priest, and led him off with him as a companion
at the dinner then being carried to his hut.
"'Twould be a deal too much for mine," said Alvarado, moving off in
another direction with his friends. "Here, thou Morla,--thou'rt a good
hand at looking after fowls, thou know'st,--just hasten yonder and pick
us out the plumpest and the fairest-cooked of those good-eating great
birds yonder, and thy good patron here, Don Montoro, will give thee due
thanks."
"For thy sake, Alvarado, or mine own?" asked Montoro, laughing.
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll not quarrel with thee, my dear Toro, on that point, since thou
art very sure to permit me the lion's share of food as the reward of
victory, whether won or no."
"Of course he will," broke in Juan de Cabrera, "seeing that for himself
he will henceforth live upon an elegant but unsubstantial dietary of
air."
"Wherefore?"
"For this simple reason, that time will be wanting to him for any more
substantial meal. From this hour henceforth, even to the ending of
this campaign, I do authorize, empower, and appoint him to be chief
minstrel, on duty unrelieved, to the high and mighty Hernando Cortes,
Captain-General and Chief Justice of the magnificent Villa Rica de Vera
Cruz. The appointment is splendid, though somewhat empty of--"
"Like thy words--of wit," interrupted Alvarado. "Come, crackbrain, I
will allow thee almost as good a share as myself of the viands Morla
brings, to silence thy mouth for awhile, for verily thou art the prince
of sparrows for a chatterer."
"And also a black-crested cockatoo! Ah! I always did suppose myself a
marvel, now I know it."
And so laughing off the emotions produced by the recent great crisis
in the fate of their leader and his enterprise, the party of Spanish
officers sauntered off to their quarters, and were very soon pleasantly
engaged in doing ample justice to the good cheer provided so hospitably
by those whom they designated as 'their foes.'