Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

by F. S. Brereton

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.