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]
"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.