The street which the Spaniards entered, after leaving the causeway,
intersected the city from north to south. It was broad and
perfectly straight and, from the roofs of the houses which lined
it, a storm of missiles was poured on the Spaniards, as they
advanced. Cortez set the allies to work to level the houses, as
fast as the Spaniards won their way along the street. This they
did, until they reached the first canal. The bridge here had been
broken down, and after the Indians had crossed, the temporary
planks were pulled after them, and they joined their countrymen
behind a solid rampart of stone, erected on the other side of the
canal.
It was not until after two hours' hard fighting, and the use of
artillery, that this obstacle was cleared away; and the Spaniards,
wading across the canal, pressed forward without further resistance,
until they reached the great square, on one side of which stood the
palace they had so long occupied. The Aztecs--disheartened at the
manner in which all the defenses on which they relied had been
captured by the Spaniards, and by their presence in the heart of
the city--for some time desisted from their efforts; but they were
roused to fury, as a body of Spaniards rushed up the winding terraces
to the summit of the great temple, and hurled the priests from its summit.
Then, with a yell of fury, they threw themselves upon their
enemies. Their headlong rush swept the Spaniards back into the
square, when they were attacked by bodies of natives, pouring down
every street. For once the Spaniards lost their presence of mind,
fell into disorder, and were swept before the torrent, down the
street which they had just traversed.
In vain Cortez attempted to stem the stream. The panic spread to
the allies, and the whole mass were flying before the natives; when
a body of cavalry came up and plunged into the crowd. The natives
were shaken by the appearance of the enemies they feared so much;
and Cortez, taking advantage of the confusion, rallied his
followers, and again drove the Aztecs back into the square.
Night was now at hand and, dragging off the cannon which had been
abandoned in their flight, the force marched off in good order,
though hotly pressed by the natives, and retired to Xoloc. Alvarado
and Sandoval also succeeded in crossing their respective causeways,
but neither of them could penetrate into the city.
The attack had failed, but it had strengthened the position of the
Spaniards; for seeing the speedy manner in which they had overcome
all the defenses erected by the Mexicans, many of the cities which
had hitherto stood aloof now sent in their submission, and supplied
levies to assist them in their work; while Ixtlilxochitl, who had
now become Lord of Tezcuco, and was a strong adherent of the
Spaniards, brought up a force of fifty thousand Tezcucans, who were
divided among the three armies.
Another simultaneous attack was now made, the advance along the
causeway being, as before, covered by the ships; but the enemy
fought stoutly, and some hours elapsed before the Spaniards again
entered the city. The advance was now more easy than on the
previous occasion, owing to the destruction of the buildings
bordering the streets. The natives, however, still fought with the
greatest obstinacy; but the great square was at last reached.
Thinking to discourage the natives, by the destruction of some of
the principal edifices, Cortez ordered the palace which had served
as the former barracks to be set on fire, as also the house of
birds adjoining Montezuma's palace, and those were soon a mass of
flames. The Aztecs, however, were infuriated rather than
intimidated; and the fight raged with greater fury than ever.
Having accomplished his object, Cortez again gave the order to fall
back and, covered by the cavalry, retired down the street; so
desperately assailed, by the natives, that but few men reached the
fort unwounded.
Day after day the same tactics were repeated, the Mexicans every
night repairing the breaches cleared out every day by the Spanish
allies. Cortez found it impossible to guard the causeway and
prevent this, the soldiers being already overcome by the fatigue of
their daily encounters. Alvarado's division, however, held at night
the ground they won in the daytime; but the troops suffered
dreadfully from the incessant toil, and from the rain, which poured
down in torrents. The soldiers of Cortez fared little better, for
the buildings in the fort of Xoloc afforded shelter but to few; and
the rest had to sleep on the causeway in its rear, exposed to all
the tempestuous weather.
Frequently, too, they were called up to battle; for the Aztec
emperor, contrary to the usual practice of his countrymen,
frequently attacked by night; often making simultaneous attacks on
the three divisions on the causeways, while at the same moment
troops from the neighboring towns attacked their camps in the rear.
He did not content himself with open attacks, but resorted to
stratagem. On one occasion he had a large number of canoes in
ambuscade, among some tall reeds bordering the lake. Several large
boats then rowed near the Spanish vessels. Believing that they were
filled with provisions intended for the city, two of the smaller
vessels pursued them. The Aztec boats made for the reeds, the
Spaniards followed, and presently struck upon submerged timbers the
Indians had driven in. They were instantly attacked by the whole
fleet of canoes, most of the men were wounded, and several,
including the two captains, slain, and one of the Spanish craft
captured.
It was now three months since the siege had begun, and the attitude
of the Mexicans was as bold and defiant as ever. Several attempts
which Cortez had made to open negotiations with the young emperor
had been received with scorn. It was certain that, sooner or later,
famine would do its work; for the approaches to the city were all
in the hands of the Spaniards, and as the towns of the lake were
either friendly or overawed by the great army of their allies, even
the canoes, which at first made their way in at night with
provisions, had ceased to steal across in the darkness. The great
native levies were of little use to the Spaniards in the absolute
fighting, but they did good service by overawing the towns, making
expeditions against the tribes that had not yet consented to throw
in their lot with the invaders, and by sweeping in provisions from
a wide extent of country.
But to wait until famine did its work little suited the spirit of
the Spaniards. The process would assuredly be a long one, for men
who fought so stoutly would resist starvation with equal tenacity;
besides, the duration of the siege was already beginning to excite
discontent among the allies, whose wars were generally of very
short duration. The Spaniards, too, were suffering from severe
illness brought on by fatigue, exposure, and hardship.
It was now determined to make a grand effort to obtain possession
of the great market of Tlatelolco, which lay on the northwestern
part of the city. Its possession would enable the force of Cortez
to join hands with those of Alvarado and Sandoval; and the spacious
market itself, with its halls and porticoes, would furnish
accommodation for the army; and enable them to attack the city at
close quarters, instead of having to fight their way, every day,
along the causeway.
Sandoval was to join Alvarado, sending seventy picked troops to
support Cortez. Advancing along the causeway, and supported not
only by the ships, but by a countless host of canoes filled with
the allies of the lake cities, who penetrated the canals, and
caused confusion in the rear of the Aztecs, the division of Cortez
cleared the suburbs of their opponents, and then advanced towards
the square of Tlatelolco by three great streets.
Alderete commanded the force that advanced by the main central
avenue. This was a raised causeway, with canals running on either
side of the road. Tapia and a brother of Alvarado commanded one of
the other columns, while Cortez led the third. A small body of
cavalry, with three guns, remained in reserve in the great street
leading to the causeway; and here the column were to rally, in case
of disaster.
The three columns advanced simultaneously. The Spanish pressed the
Aztecs back before them. Their allies filled up the canals as they
took them, one by one. The Tlascalans stormed the houses, and
attacked the enemy on their roofs; while the canoes engaged those
of the Aztecs, and so prevented them from interfering with the men
occupied in filling up the breaches. The parallel streets were near
enough to each other for the Spaniards to hear the shouts of their
companions in the other columns, and to know that all were gaining
ground steadily.
The enemy in the streets fought with less obstinacy than usual; and
Cortez, with his usual keen-sightedness, at once apprehended that
the feebleness of the resistance indicated some device, and that
the Aztecs were allowing them to advance, only to lead them into a
trap.
He had received a message from Alderete saying that he was getting
on fast, and that he was but a short distance from the great
square. Fearing that this officer, eager to be the first to gain
the marketplace, was not taking proper precautions to secure his
retreat; Cortez, with a small body of troops, retraced his steps,
and turned up the street by which Alderete's column had advanced.
He had gone but a short distance, when he saw that his stringent
orders had been neglected; for he came upon an opening some thirty
feet wide, full of water at least twelve feet deep. A slight
attempt, only, had been made to stop the gap; and stones and
timber, lying by the side, showed that it had been abandoned as
soon as commenced.
The general saw, too, that the road had been narrowed as it
approached this point, and that the work had evidently been
recently done. Much alarmed at the consequence of this neglect, he
at once set his men to fill up the breach; but they had scarcely
begun the operation when a terrific yell arose, drowning the
mingled clamor of the distant conflict.
Alderete had, as Cortez supposed, pressed on the retreating Aztecs
with too great eagerness. He had carried the barricades which
defended the breach, and had given orders that the chasm should be
filled up. But in their eagerness to be first in the square, the
Spaniards had pressed on, none caring to stop to see that the
allies carried out the order. So, taking position after position,
they pressed on until they were close to the square.
Suddenly the horn of Guatimozin, the emperor, sent forth a piercing
note from the summit of a temple. As if by magic, the retreating
Aztecs turned and fell on their pursuers; while swarms of warriors
from the adjoining streets, lanes, and corners attacked the
advancing column.
Taken completely by surprise, bewildered by the suddenness and fury
of the onslaught, appalled by the terrific war yells, smitten down
by the rain of missiles from the Aztecs, the Spaniards fell into
confusion, and were swept down the street like foam on the crest of
a wave. In vain their leaders attempted to rally them. Their voices
were drowned in the din, and their followers, panic stricken, now
thought only of preserving their lives.
On they came, until they reached the edge of the cut. Here some
plunged in, others were pushed in by the pressure from behind.
Those who could swim were pulled down by their struggling comrades.
Some got across and tried to climb the slippery side of the dike,
but fell back and were seized by the Aztecs; whose canoes now
dashed up, and added to the confusion by hurling a storm of
missiles into the crowd.
Cortez, with his little party, kept his station on the other side
of the breach. They were already surrounded by Aztecs, who had
landed on the causeway behind them; but held their ground
desperately, and endeavored, as far as possible, to assist their
comrades to climb out of the water. Cortez was speedily recognized,
and storms of missiles were poured upon him, but these glanced
harmlessly from his helmet and armor. Six of the Aztecs threw
themselves upon him together, and made a desperate effort to drag
him into their boat. In the struggle he received a severe wound in
the leg, and fell.
Olid, one of his followers, sprang to his rescue, severed the arm
of one of the natives, and ran another through the body; and being
joined by a comrade named Lerma, and by a Tlascalan chief, stood
over the body of Cortez and drove off his foes, dispatching three
more of his assailants; but Olid fell, mortally wounded, by the
side of his leader.
Quinones, the captain of the guard, with several of his men now
fought his way up, lifted Cortez from the water, and laid him on
the road. One of his pages brought up his horse, but fell, wounded
in the throat by a javelin. Guzman, the chamberlain, then seized
the bridle, and held it while Cortez was helped into the saddle;
but was himself seized by the Aztecs, and carried off in a canoe.
Cortez, wounded as he was, would still have fought on; but
Quinones, taking his horse by the bridle, turned it to the rear,
exclaiming that his leader's life was "too important to the army to
be thrown away there!"
The mass of fugitives poured along the causeway. The road was soft,
and was so cut up that it was knee deep in mud; and in some places
the water of the canals beside it met across it. Those on the
flanks were often forced, by the pressure, down the slippery sides;
and were instantly captured and carried off by the canoes of the
enemy. Cortez's standard bearer was among those who fell in the
canal, but he succeeded in recovering his footing, and saved the
standard.
At last the fugitives reached the spot where the cannon and cavalry
had been placed in reserve. Here Cortez rallied them, and charged
the Aztecs with the little body of horse, while the artillery
opened a hot fire upon them. He then sent orders to the other two
columns to fall back and, when these had rejoined him, the division
retired, Cortez covering the movement with the cavalry.
As soon as they were freed from the city, Tapia was sent round on
horseback to acquaint the other commanders of the failure. They had
advanced at the same time as Cortez, and had on their side nearly
gained the square; when they, too, were startled by the blast of
Guatimozin's horn, and by the terrible yell that followed it. Then
they heard the sound of battle, which had before been clearly
audible, roll away in the distance; and knew that the division of
Cortez had been driven back.
In a short time the attack upon themselves increased in fury, as
the troops who had been engaged with Cortez returned and joined in
the attack upon them. Two or three bloody heads were thrown among
them, with shouts of "Malinzin!"
Although Sandoval and Alvarado did not credit the death of their
commander, they felt that it was useless to persevere, and indeed
were unable to withstand the furious assaults of the Aztecs. With
great difficulty they drew off their troops to the entrenchment on
the causeway, and here the guns of the ships, sweeping the road,
drove back their assailants. The greatest anxiety prevailed as to
the fate of Cortez, until Tapia arrived, bleeding from several
wounds, which he had received from parties of men whom Guatimozin
had stationed to interrupt the communication between the two camps.
Sandoval at once rode round. He, too, was attacked on the road; but
his armor, and that of his horse protected him from the missiles
showered upon them. On arriving at the camp, he found the troops
much dispirited. Numbers had been killed and wounded, and no less
than sixty-two Spaniards, with a multitude of allies, had fallen
into the hands of the enemy. Indeed, the column around Alderete had
been almost entirely destroyed, and two guns and seven horses had
been lost.
Cortez explained to his follower the cause of the disaster, and
told Sandoval that, as he should be unable to take the field for a
few days, he must take his place, and watch over the safety of the
camps.
Roger Hawkshaw had borne his full share in the desperate conflicts
that had taken place. In the previous combats he had fought only to
preserve his own life, but now he was eager for the fray. His
friend Cuitcatl and his promised bride were prisoners in Mexico,
and he fought now to deliver them. It was nearly a year from the
time when he had first retreated along the fatal causeway; and in
that time his frame had broadened out, and his strength increased;
and so terrible were the blows he dealt that Cortez, himself, had
several times spoken to him in terms of approval of his valor, and
had appointed him to be one of his own bodyguard. He had stood
beside him at the edge of the breach, and had done good service
there.
"You fight like a paladin," Cortez said, as Roger cut down three
natives who had rushed upon him; "but see, Sancho, put up your
sword for a minute, and take up that pike. If you hand the end to
those poor fellows in the water, your strength will be sufficient
to haul them up."
Roger at once set to, at the work of saving life, and dragged more
than a score of men who would otherwise have been drowned. He heard
the cry which was raised, when Cortez was attacked; and throwing
down his pike and drawing his sword, turned to rush to his
assistance; but at this moment two Mexicans threw themselves upon
him, his foot slipped in the mud, and in another moment he and his
two assailants were rolling down the deep bank into the water.
With a mighty effort, he freed himself from their grasp and,
gaining the bank, tried to climb up; but a canoe dashed up
alongside, a dozen Mexicans threw themselves upon him, and with a
triumphant shout drew him into the boat, which at once paddled off
from the scene of conflict.
Roger, as he lay at the bottom of the canoe, felt that all hope was
over. He knew that the Aztecs never spared a captive taken in war,
and that all who fell into their hands were destined for the altars
of their gods. He regretted deeply that he had not fallen in
battle; but determined that, at any rate, he would not die tamely;
and resolved that, rather than be slaughtered in cold blood on the
altar, when the time came, he would offer so desperate a resistance
that they would be forced to kill him.
Passing along several canals, the canoe stopped at some stairs.
Roger was taken out, and led through a shouting crowd to a great
temple, where he was thrust into a prison room, already occupied by
several Spaniards. Their numbers increased, until they amounted to
twenty.
Few words were spoken among the prisoners. Their arms were free,
but their legs firmly secured with ropes; and ten armed Aztecs kept
watch over them, to see that they made no attempt to unfasten their
bonds.
One of the prisoners Roger saw, to his regret, was his friend Juan.
He was severely wounded in several places; as indeed was Roger
himself, although in the excitement of the battle he had scarce
noticed it.
"Well, lad!" the old soldier said. "This is a bad ending of our
gold seeking. Who would have thought that it was to be one's lot,
first to be murdered on the altars of a hideous god, and then to
furnish a meal to a race of savages?"
"The furnishing the meal does not trouble me," Roger replied.
"Whether one is drowned and eaten by fishes, or killed and eaten by
Aztecs, makes, as far as I can see, but little difference to one.
However, I don't quite make up my mind to the worst yet, Juan. They
must have captured a great number of us, for I saw many carried off
who are not here; besides a multitude of Tlascalans and our other
allies. I do not suppose they will sacrifice us all at once, but
are likely to take so many a day. In that case, we may have the
luck to be among the last; and before our turn comes, the Spaniards
may be masters of the town."
Juan shook his head.
"It is just as well to hope, lad; but I think the chances are next
to nothing. Even if Cortez himself gets out safe, and the troops
draw off without much further loss, it will be some days before
they will attack again, after such a maiming as we got, this time.
Even then their chances of success will be no better than they were
today; worse, in fact, for we have lost something like a sixth of
our force, beside what may have fallen in the attack from the other
side; put it at a quarter, altogether. Our natives will be
dispirited by their defeat today, and the Aztecs will have gained
in confidence.
"By Saint James, but those fellows fight well! Who would have
thought, when we saw them bowing and smiling when we first arrived
in the city, and submitting so meekly to everything, that they
could fight like fiends? Never did I see men so reckless of life.
"Pedro has fallen. I loved him as a son. But far better dead than
here."
"I am sorry, indeed, to hear that he has fallen, Juan. I feared
that he had, for he would not have let you be captured, had he been
alive.
"I don't give up all hope for ourselves. The Mexicans fight like
heroes, but in the end we must win, in spite of their valor. Even
if we do not take the town by storm, which I don't think we ever
should do, if it were provisioned, we shall take it by hunger. They
must be well-nigh starving now. In another month there will not be
a soul alive in the city.
"You do not think there is any chance of our making our escape?"
"Not unless wings could sprout out from our shoulders," Juan said,
"and we could fly through the air. You may be sure these fellows
will keep too sharp a lookout upon us to give us the shadow of a
chance; besides, if we were to get out, we could not go on foot
without being detected.
"You might manage, lad, with a dark night to hide your color, and
with the aid of a native dress, for you can speak their tongue; but
as for me, the idea is hopeless, and not to be thought of. No, no,
lad, I do not delude myself. My time has come; and I shall bear it,
I hope, like a man, and a Christian."
From time to time, Aztecs came in to see that the prisoners were
safe. From their conversation with the guards, Roger gathered that
the attack had everywhere failed, and that the Spaniards had
retired to their camps.
Late in the afternoon some priests entered. Two of the prisoners
were selected by them, their bonds cut, and they were taken away.
Soon afterwards, the sound of the great war drum reverberated
through the city.
The Spaniards in their camps started to arms, on hearing the sound;
but they were not long in understanding its meaning, for from their
camps they beheld a great procession winding up the principal
pyramid. Alvarado's camp, which was the nearest to the city, was a
short mile away from the temple; and in the clear evening air the
troops could see that there were five or six white figures among
them.
As usual, the victims were decorated with plumes of feathers, to do
honor to their own sacrifice. They were driven along with blows
and, when they reached the summit of the temple, were seized and
thrown, one by one, upon their backs upon the sacrificial stone,
which was convex, so as to give a curve to their bodies. The
principal priest then, with a sharp stone knife, cut through the
skin and flesh between two of the ribs and, plunging his hand into
the orifice, dragged out the heart, which he presented to the
figure of the god.
The sight, distant as it was, excited the Spaniards to the verge of
madness; and if it had not been for their officers, they would have
seized their weapons and rushed forward again to the attack, to
avenge the murder of their comrades.
The feelings of the captives, as they heard the sound of the drums,
the shouts of the natives, and once or twice caught the scream of
agony of their comrades, were terrible. This was the fate that
they, too, were to undergo; and men who had, a hundred times,
looked death in battle in the face, shuddered and trembled at their
approaching doom.
Each day two of their number were taken, and the same terrible
scene was gone through. Roger was rather surprised that he himself
was not one of the first selected, as his height and figure made
him specially conspicuous among his comrades; but he supposed that
he was being one of those reserved for some special festival.
Whatever the famine might be in the city, the captives were well
fed; for it was a point of honor, among the Aztecs, that all
victims offered to the gods should be in good health and condition.
The guards were changed every six hours, and on the third day, in
the officer over the relief, Roger recognized, to his surprise and
delight, his friend Bathalda. The latter, as he entered, made a
significant motion to Roger, as he caught his eye, to make no sign
that he recognized him.
The Aztecs, as usual, sat down in groups, chatting. They had no
fear whatever of the prisoners attempting to escape in the daytime,
and it was only at night that they exercised any special vigilance
in seeing that they did not attempt to unloose their bonds.
Bathalda presently sauntered up into the corner in which Roger was
sitting.
"How are my friends?" the latter asked, in a low voice.
"Well," Bathalda replied. "Cuitcatl explained to the young emperor
the circumstances under which he came to know and assist you, and
was at once restored to favor, and now commands a large body of
troops here. I have not seen the princess. She is at the palace.
Cuitcatl bade me tell you that they are working for you, and will
rescue you before the time comes for your sacrifice; but at present
the watch is too strict."
"But I may be chosen, any day," Roger said.
Bathalda shook his head.
"Cuitcatl has bribed the priests who choose the victims to leave
you until the last; so you need not feel uneasiness on that score.
Be patient and watchful. If any of your guard approach you and say,
'The time is at hand,' you will know that he is a friend. Act as he
tells you. I dare not say more, now."
Ten days passed. Juan had gone, and Roger had been much moved at
parting with him--more so, indeed, than the old soldier himself,
who had kept up firmly, and was prepared to meet his fate with
contempt for his enemies, in the assurance that his death would be
terribly avenged.
Bathalda had not reappeared. As the number of prisoners had
decreased, the guard had been diminished; and as there now only
remained Roger and one other, and both were still bound, a single
Aztec relieved the two who had, the night before, kept guard.
He stood, indifferently gazing through the loophole, until Roger's
companion fell asleep. Then he approached him and said:
"The time is at hand. Tomorrow the other will be taken. The number
will be made up from the other prisons. At night Cuitcatl will be
outside. The door here will not be bolted. You will have but one
man to watch you; but we know not whom he may be, and may not be
able to arrange with him. If we do, he will give you the password.
If not, you must deal with him. The man who will follow me is in
the secret. You must unfasten your ropes while he is here, and he
will aid you to do them up again, so that, while to the eye they
will seem secure, they can be shaken off instantly.
"Bathalda and another will accompany you. I do not know who the
other is; but I was told that you would understand."
That other Roger felt sure must be Amenche; and his heart beat
hotly, at the thought that his dear princess would share his
flight.
The hours passed quickly. The next day the last Spaniard was taken;
and no sooner had he been forced, struggling and resisting, from
the chamber; than the guard who, since he had taken up his post
four hours before, had made no sign to Roger, gave the password
agreed upon. The latter rose to his feet and, with the aid of the
native, unfastened the cords that bound his ankles together.
For half an hour he paced up and down the chamber, to restore the
circulation to his feet. Then the guard replaced the cords, but did
it in such a way that, though they seemed as tight and secure as
before, they would at a slight effort fall off, and leave him free.
At eight o'clock in the evening the guard was relieved. He had told
Roger that he was to listen for the cry of an owl outside, twice
repeated; and that upon hearing this, he would know that his
friends were without. Roger listened anxiously for the password
from his new guard; but as it did not come, he concluded that
Cuitcatl had not been able to bribe him, and that he must himself
overpower the man.
The Aztec placed himself at the loophole, and stood looking out;
turning, from time to time, to see by the light of the torch, which
was fixed close to where Roger was lying, that he was making no
attempt to release himself from his bonds.
It was not until nearly midnight that Roger heard the expected
signal. No sooner was the second call given, than he pulled the
knot which kept the cords together, raised himself noiselessly to
his feet, and sprang upon the Aztec. Taken by surprise, the man was
no more than a child in Roger's strong grasp. In a moment he was
thrown down, his cloth was twisted round his mouth, so as to
prevent any cry from escaping him, and his arms were bound behind
him with Roger's rope.
Roger then took his sword and javelin, and went to the door. As he
had been told would be the case, the outer bolts were unfastened.
Passing along a passage, he came to the outside gate. This was
securely fastened, but Roger had no difficulty in scaling the roof
of a building leaning against the outer wall; and on reaching this,
he pulled himself up and dropped down into the street beyond.
Three persons were standing at the gate, and he at once made
towards them. One ran forward with a little cry, and threw herself
into his arms. The others were, as he had expected, Cuitcatl and
Bathalda. The former saluted him warmly.
"Thank the gods you are free, Roger," he said. "I have a canoe
close at hand for you. Bathalda will accompany you and the
princess. I cannot leave. I am an Aztec, and shall fight until the
last, with our brave young emperor."
"I hope, Cuitcatl, that when the resistance is over--as it must be
before long, for I know from the talk of the guards that famine is
among you, and that hundreds are dying daily--I hope that I may be
able to aid you, as you are aiding me."
"I care not to live," Cuitcatl said. "The empire is lost."
"But there is no dishonor in that," Roger replied. "No men could
defend themselves more bravely than you have done, and there is no
disgrace in being vanquished by superior arms. I trust that you may
live, and be happy, yet."
"Let us not stand here talking," the young cazique said. "It is not
as it was before. Then you might walk through the city at midnight,
without meeting with a single person. We sleep no longer now, but
make nightly attacks on the Spaniards; and at any moment bodies of
troops may come along."
The little party moved forward, and in a minute descended the
steps. Bathalda took his place in a small canoe lying there.
"Here is a weapon which will suit you better than that sword and
javelin," he said, handing him a war club, a heavy weapon, with
pieces of sharp-pointed obsidian fixed in it.
Roger helped Amenche into the canoe, wrung Cuitcatl warmly by the
hand, and then stepped in.
"Go," the latter exclaimed. "I can hear troops approaching."
So saying, he bounded swiftly away. Bathalda sat listening for a
moment, to discover the direction from which the troops were
coming. As soon as he made out the soft tread of the shoeless feet,
he dipped his paddle in the water, and the boat glided noiselessly
away.
It was not long before they emerged from the narrow water way on to
the lake; and then the boat's head was turned in the direction in
which lay the Tlacopan causeway. Presently Amenche, who had been
sitting nestled close to Roger--too happy even to speak--sat up and
said:
"Hush!"
Bathalda ceased rowing.
"There is a large canoe coming up behind us," he said, listening
intently. "I can hear others on the lake, beyond us."
"We had better make into the shore again," Roger said, "and let
them pass us."
The canoe, however, was not very far behind; and those on board
caught sight of the little craft, as she rowed in towards shore. It
was unusual to see so small a boat at night. The idea that it might
contain a spy occurred to them, and they shouted to them to stop.
Bathalda exerted himself to the utmost, but the canoe came rapidly
up to them. As the command to stop was again disregarded, a volley
of javelins was discharged.
"We cannot escape," Bathalda said. "They will be upon us, before we
can land."
"Cease rowing," Roger said.
"Amenche, lie still, dear, at the bottom of the boat. I will deal
with them."
Seeing that the oarsmen had stopped paddling, the volley of
javelins ceased; and the canoe, which contained some twenty men,
ran alongside.
As she did so, Roger sprang on board her. Three or four of the
natives were struck down in an instant, with his terrible weapon.
The others, as soon as they recovered from their astonishment, rose
from their seats and attacked him. Their numbers were but of slight
avail. Standing in the bow of the boat, and swinging his weapon
round his head, Roger kept them off; beating down one, each time
his weapon fell. In vain they tried to close with him. His great
size, and the suddenness with which he had attacked them, acted
upon their superstitious fears. They knew not what sort of being it
was with whom they had to deal, and the terrible strength
displayed, and the instant fate that fell on all who approached
him, appalled them.
Roger soon took the offensive and, making his way along the boat,
drove them back before him. At last, when more than half their
number had fallen, the rest sprang overboard and swam to the shore.
Roger had been wounded by three or four spear thrusts, but these
had been too hastily given to penetrate very deeply.
"I am unhurt, Amenche," he said, making his way forward again, and
stepping into the canoe.
There was no reply. He stooped over, as she lay quietly there.
"She has fainted," he said.
"Row on, Bathalda. You had best give me the other paddle. I can
hear boats coming in this direction. No doubt they heard the yells.
"Skirt along the shore. We shall be unseen, close in; and if they
approach us, can take refuge in a canal."
But they passed along unnoticed. When they caught sight of the
causeway, stretching away dimly in front of them, they again rowed
out into the lake and, making a long circuit to avoid the canoes
attacking Xoloc, the guns of which were firing hotly, came down on
the causeway again in its rear.
They were hailed as they approached, for the Spaniards were all
under arms. Roger shouted that he was a friend, who had escaped
from the prison; and the Spaniards, in return, gave a shout of
welcome. In another two minutes, the canoe lay alongside the
causeway.
Bathalda sprang on shore, and held the canoe while Roger lifted
Amenche up, and stepped out. A dozen hands were held out to assist
him to climb the slippery bank.
His figure was known by them all. Many exclamations of welcome
greeted him, and many were the inquiries as to the other captives.
"I will tell you all about it, directly. Bring the torch a little
closer. I have a lady here who has fainted. We were attacked as we
came out. The fight was a sharp one, and has scared her."
A soldier brought a torch and, as he did so, Roger uttered a loud
cry. Amenche's face was bloodless, and her eyes were closed. But it
was not this that had caused Roger's cry. There was a dark stain on
her white dress, and in its center the feathered head of an arrow.
While Bathalda and Roger had escaped the missiles, with which those
in the boat heralded their attack; an arrow had struck Amenche, as
she turned, when Roger sprang on board.
So great was Roger's horror that he reeled, and would have fallen,
had not the soldiers standing round supported him.
"I think that she has but fainted from loss of blood," Bathalda
said; and Roger, refusing all assistance, carried Amenche to the
fort through the ranks of the Spaniards, who were engaged hotly
with their assailants in the canoes.
He bore her, at once, to the chamber occupied by Marina. She was up
and dressed, for the attack was a hot one, and there was no sleep
in Xoloc. She uttered a cry of welcome, and gladness, as Roger
entered.
"I have escaped, Malinche," he said; "but I fear that she has died
in saving me. I have brought her to you, as you are the only woman
here."
Marina took the girl tenderly, and laid her on a couch.
"I will see to her," she said, softly. "Leave her to me, Roger."
As Roger, blinded with tears, left the room, an officer met him at
the door, and told him that Cortez had just heard of his arrival,
and desired his presence. The general received him with great
kindness.
"It is something to see one of my comrades back again, Sancho," he
said. "I hear how sad a misfortune has befallen you; for I suppose
the lady you brought ashore was she of whom Marina spoke to me. She
told me that she did not give up all hope that you might return;
for that the princess whom you loved was in the city, and would,
she was sure, do all that she could to save your life."
"She did so, General," Roger said; "and I fear at the cost of her
own--she and a noble young cazique, who was a brother to me, when I
was living at Tezcuco."
"I will not trouble you now with questions," Cortez said; "but tell
me--do you know whether any of the other prisoners are alive? Every
evening we have marked that terrible procession to the summit of
the temple. Fifty-eight have been sacrificed, but we know not
exactly how many more remain; being ignorant which of our comrades
fell, and which were captured."
"I cannot tell," Roger replied. "I was the only one left, out of
twenty who were in prison together. If they were taken in the same
proportion from the other prisons, there can be but a few remaining
now. I was set aside until the last, because the priest who had
daily chosen out the victims had been bribed by my friend
Cuitcatl."
Roger hastened away, as soon as Cortez dismissed him, and hurried
back to Malinche's apartment. Her Mexican attendant, who was
standing outside the door, opened it when she saw him approaching;
and as she came up Malinche stole out, with her finger on her lips.
"We have taken out the arrow," she said. "She is still insensible;
but the leech thinks that it is from loss of blood, and hopes that
no vital point has been injured. More than that he cannot say, at
present.
"You had best have your own wounds attended to, now. I will have a
pile of rugs laid for you, in this little room to the left; and
will let you know if any change takes place."
"Do you think that there is any hope, Malinche?"
Malinche shook her head.
"I know not, Roger. I have already sent off to the mainland, to
fetch a leech famous for his skill in the use of herbs. Our people
have many simples of which you know nothing in Europe, and they are
very skillful in the treatment of wounds--much more so, I think,
than the white men."