THE RETREAT FROM TENOCHTITLAN
The way of escape was partially prepared by the filling up of the
canals, but who could tell how long it would remain so? At any moment
the forces guarding these all-important points might be overcome or
driven back and the canals reopened. It was therefore decided, at a
council of officers convened late on that fourth day of fighting,
that the retreat should be undertaken that very night. Now began busy
preparations for evacuating the palace-fortress occupied by the white
conquerors for so many months. Litters for the transportation of the
wounded were hastily constructed, and Huetzin was called upon to detail
a body of warriors to carry and guard these helpless ones. The rich
booty of the conquest was drawn from its hiding-places, and much of
the gold was packed in stout bags for transportation on horse-back.
Still a large portion of it must necessarily be abandoned. As it lay,
scattered in shining heaps about the floor, the soldiers looked at it
with longing eyes. It seemed to them that the wealth of the New World
lay at their feet, waiting to be picked up.
"Take what you will of it!" exclaimed the commander, reading their
thoughts in their faces, "but be careful not to overload yourselves.
Remember that he travels best, who travels lightest."
With this permission the troops rushed at the glittering spoil like
famishing men upon food, while the grim Tlascalans, indifferent to
wealth of this description, watched the avaricious scramble with
unconcealed contempt. The men of Narvaez, who had heard so much
concerning Mexican gold without having thus far acquired any of it,
greedily loaded themselves with as much as they could possibly carry,
but the veteran followers of Cortes, taking heed to their leader's
counsel, helped themselves sparingly, each selecting only a few objects
of the greatest value. As for the piles of rich fabrics, jewel-studded
weapons, feather mantles of inestimable value, delicate ware, and
costly and curious articles of every description, the greater part of
them was abandoned with hardly a regret, in the all-absorbing eagerness
to escape from that sorrowful prison-house.
While these scenes were being enacted in one part of the palace, a
party of workmen was busily engaged in another, constructing a stout
portable-bridge. Although the canals intersecting the city streets had
been so filled that they could be crossed, there still remained three
that cut the causeway of Tlacopan. From there, as well as from the
others, the bridges had been removed. As these three openings were
of the same size, each being thirty feet in width, a single portable
bridge, that could be taken up from the first opening after the army
had passed, and carried to the next was deemed sufficient. It was
placed in charge of a trusty officer named Margarino, who was given
forty picked men, all pledged to defend it with their lives.
The night was intensely dark, and a drizzling rain fell steadily. At
midnight all was in readiness for a start, and the great gate of the
palace-fortress was swung open for the last time. The order of march
had been carefully planned beforehand, and, according to it, Sandoval,
mounted on Motilla, and commanding the advance guard was the first to
ride forth. At his left hand rode the only mounted native of the New
World, Huetzin, the young Toltec; for besides a score of cavaliers, and
two hundred foot soldiers, the advance contained two thousand Tlascalan
warriors. To these faithful mountaineers had been entrusted the object
deemed most precious by the whole army, the covered litter in which
was borne Marina, their well-loved interpreter. With the advance also
marched Margarino and his forty men, bearing on their sturdy shoulders
the heavy timbers of the portable bridge upon which the salvation of
the army depended.
In the centre, or main division, were the prisoners, among whom were
several of Montezuma's children, Cacama, Prince of Tezcuco, and a
number of Aztec nobles held as hostages, the treasure, the baggage, the
wounded, and the heavy guns. These were guarded by the veterans who had
been with Cortes from the first, and a strong force of Tlascalans.
As these slowly defiled into the great square they were followed by
the rear guard under command of Alvarado. It contained the bulk of the
Spanish infantry who had been enlisted from the force of Narvaez, and a
battery of light artillery in charge of Mesa and his well-tried gunners.
When the last man had passed through the gateway, the commander, who
had waited motionless on his gray steed to assure himself that no
stragglers were left behind, roused, as from a deep revery, gave a
parting glance at the quarters that had been the scene of so stirring a
chapter of his life's history, clapped spurs to his horse, and dashed
down the long black line of his retreating army.
Although every precaution was taken to move silently, the passage of so
large a body of troops through paved streets, could not be accomplished
without noise. To the strained ears of the fugitives, expecting each
moment to hear the exulting war-cries of their enemies, or to see their
dark masses rushing from every cross street and alley, the heavy rumble
of their own artillery, the sharp ring of iron-shod hoofs, the measured
tramp of infantry, and the unavoidable rattle of weapons, seemed to
create a volume of sound that must be heard in the remotest quarters
of Tenochtitlan. Still the battle-wearied city slept on, nor did it
betray, by a sign, its consciousness that the prey, it had deemed so
surely its own, was slipping from its grasp.
On through the blackness, shrouding the long avenue of Tlacopan, moved
the retreat. Here they stumbled over the corpse of some dead Aztec,
there they could distinguish the dark heaps of slain marking some
fiercely contested point of the recent fighting. To their excited
imaginations it seemed as though these must rise up and betray them.
The shadowy ruins of fire-scathed buildings seemed again peopled with
flitting forms, and, as they crossed one after another of the canals,
the ebon water seemed alive with swarming paddles. But they passed on
as unmolested by the living as by the dead, until at length a lighter
space between the buildings in front of them announced to the van-guard
that the causeway was at hand. As they drew aside to allow the men of
Margarino room in which to advance and place their bridge, they felt
that the worst of the perilous retreat was over, and could hardly
restrain the shouts that would have proclaimed their joy.
Suddenly a shrill cry, chilling the blood in their veins, rose from
close beside them. There was a sound of flying footsteps, and the
alarm was echoing and re-echoing through the wind-swept streets with
an ever-increasing clamor. The priests, watching their fires on top
of tall teocals, caught the cry of the flying sentinels and spread
the alarm with sounding blasts upon their conch-shells. Now, from the
desolated heights of Huitzil's temple, the solemn booming of the great
serpent drum, only sounded in times of gravest moment, vibrated through
the remotest comers of the city and far out over the waters surrounding
it. Red beacon flames sprang from the top of every temple, warning the
whole valley that the time of the crisis had come.
"Tlacopan! Tlacopan!" was shouted in frenzied tones through every
street and into every house of the sleeping city, and this single word
named the rallying point.
With desperate haste Margarino and his men laid their bridge. No longer
was there need of silence or concealment. Flight, instant and rapid,
was the sole animating thought of the whole army. Sandoval, on prancing
Motilla, was the first to test its strength, and after him streamed the
eager troops. To the vanguard hastening forward without opposition,
safety still seemed within reach; but to the rear, impatiently awaiting
the movement of those before them, the night was filled with ominous
rushings and sounds denoting the gathering of a mighty host. By the
fitful glare of the lofty beacons, now streaming through the upper
darkness from all parts of the city, they caught glimpses of hurrying
forms and glintings of angry weapons. Mesa's grim gunners blew the
matches, kept dry beneath their cloaks, into brighter flame and
chuckled hoarsely as they thought of the havoc their falconets would
make when once turned loose.
The advanced guard had crossed the bridge and the dense squadrons of
the centre, with the heavy guns, ammunition wagons, baggage, treasure,
prisoners, and wounded, were passing it when the storm broke. First a
few stones and arrows rattled on the mail of the cavaliers, or pricked
the naked Tlascalans. Then the dark waters of the lake were smitten
by the dip of ten thousand angry paddles, as though by the fierce
breath of a whirlwind. The sprinkle of stones and arrows increased to a
tempest of hissing missiles. The dark lines of on-rushing canoes dashed
against the very rocks of the causeway, while their occupants, leaping
out, threw themselves, with reckless ferocity, upon the retreating
troops. The shrieks of wounded and dying men began to rise from the
hurrying column and the despairing cries of others, overthrown and
dragged to the canoes. Above all and drowning all, rose the shrill,
exultant yell of "Tlacopan! Tlacopan!" made, for the time being, the
Aztec war-cry and taken up by a myriad of fresh voices with each
passing minute.
From the distant rear came the roar of Mesa's guns. There the cowardly
enemy will be checked at any rate! But they are not. No longer do
belching cannon nor levelled lances possess any terror for those whom
the war-like Cuitlahua leads to battle.
As hundreds were mowed down by the storm of iron balls, thousands
leaped into their places. So irresistibly furious was the Aztec advance
that ere the deadly falconets could be reloaded, Mesa, his men, and his
guns, were overwhelmed, and swept out of sight, as though beneath the
overpowering mass of an alpine avalanche. Alvarado and his handful of
cavaliers, who had charged again and again into the fiercely swelling
tide of foemen, supporting the guns as long as any were left, now
turned, and fled across the narrow bridge.
While these events were taking place with frightful rapidity in the
rear, the advance had reached, and were halted by, the second opening
in the causeway. Galled by the incessant attacks of their swarming
adversaries, and with their own swords rendered well-nigh useless by
the cramped space into which they were crowded, these sent back message
after message imploring Margarino to hasten forward with the bridge.
But the bridge would never be brought forward. Its timbers had become
so wedged among the stones of the causeway, by the weight of ponderous
guns and mail-clad troops, that not all the efforts of Margarino's
sturdy men could move them. Desperately they tugged and strained, but
in vain. The bridge was as immovable as the causeway itself. Even as
they fulfilled their pledge never to move forward without the bridge,
the exulting foe leaped upon them. For a few minutes there was a fierce
conflict. Then the seething Aztec flood rolled on, sweeping over
Margarino and his men, as it had over Mesa and his guns.