"Comrades, to many, doubtless to most of our brethren in arms, those ships signify home and life and liberty, and yet—I wish you to aid me in burning them."
Montoro and the others of the group gazed at him speechless for one instant, and then cast startled glances around towards the distant camp.
"Yes," said Cortes, answering the looks, "most assuredly it is we who should be burnt before the ships, if some of yon timorous or turbulent spirits heard word prematurely of such intention. But nevertheless, minute by minute, as I have stood here thinking, the conviction has grown upon me that only in the burning of those ships lies victory for us."
"Break down the bridge behind," muttered Juan de Cabrera, "and the mule must go forward."
"Even so," was the reply. "We are few enough as it is for the glorious enterprise on which we are embarked, and shall we allow base-minded churls to force us back to the contempt and ridicule of those who, we too well know, would store up scorning for us? No, no, my brethren, my noble and valued friends and comrades, do you but stand by me faithfully in the future, as you have done in the past, and we will cut off the means of retreat that, for ourselves, we value not, and force all to die with us, or to aid us in winning the splendid triumph that shall shed a glory on us, to endure to the end of time."
He stood there glowing with his own magnificent enthusiasm, and his hearers, carried with him beyond the dictates of a colder prudence, exclaimed eagerly as though with one heart—
"Agreed. We are with you. Burn the ships, and go forward in the names of thy patron saint and St. Jago."