Cortés’ brain was in a whirl during that ride. It was a horrible thing, this hanging of Spaniards, cutting off feet, and flogging. Viewed in one light it was but a common piece of military discipline; from another stand-point it was the act of an outlaw. The greater part of the little army was with the commander; to this full extent the men believed in him, that on his valor and discretion they would adventure their lives. With most men beliefs are but prejudices, and opinions tastes. These Spaniards not only believed in their general, but they held to a most impetuous belief in themselves. They could do not only anything that any one else ever had done or could do, but they could command the supernatural, and fight with or against phantoms and devils. They were a host in themselves; besides which the hosts of Jehovah were on their side. And Cortés measured his men and their capabilities, not as Xerxes measured his army, by filling successively a pen capable of holding just ten thousand; he measured them rather by his ambition, which was as bright and as limitless as the firmament. Already they were heroes, whose story presently should vie in thrilling interest with the most romantic tales of chivalry and knight-errantry, and in whom the strongest human passions were so blended as to lift them for a time out of the hand of fate and make their fortunes their own. The thirst for wealth, the enthusiasm of religion, the love of glory, united with reckless daring and excessive loyalty, formed the most powerful incentives to action. Life to them without the attainment of their object was valueless; they would do or die; for to die in doing was life, whereas to live failing was worse than death. Cortés felt all this, though it scarcely lay on his mind in threads of tangible thought. There was enough however that was tangible in his thinkings, and exceedingly troubling. Unfortunately the mind and heart of all his people were not of the complexion he would have them. And those ships. And the disaffected men lying so near them, looking wistfully at them every morning, and plotting, and plotting all the day long. Like the Palatinate to Turenne, like anything that seduced from the stern purposes of Cortés, it were better they were not.
This thought once flashed into his mind fastened itself there. And it grew. And Cortés grew with it, until the man and the idea filled all that country, and became the wonder and admiration of the world. Destroy the ships! Cut off all escape, should such be needed in case of failure! Burn the bridge that spans time, and bring to his desperate desire the aid of the eternities! The thought of it alone was daring; more fearfully fascinating it became as Cortés dashed along toward Cempoala, and by the time he had reached his destination the thing was determined, and he might with Cæsar at the Rubicon exclaim, Jacta est alea! But what would his soldiers say? They must be made to feel as he feels, to see with his eyes, and to swell with his ambition.
The confession of the conspirators opened the eyes of Cortés to a fact which surely he had seen often enough before, though by reason of his generous nature which forgot an injury immediately it was forgiven, it had not been much in his mind of late, namely, that too many of his companions were lukewarm, if not openly disaffected. They could not forget that Cortés was a common man like themselves, their superior in name only, and placed over them for the accomplishment of this single purpose. They felt they had a right to say whether they would remain and take the desperate chance their leader seemed determined on, and to act on that right with or without his consent. And their position assuredly was sound; whether it was sensible depended greatly on their ability to sustain themselves in it. Cortés was exercising the arbitrary power of a majority to drive the minority as it appeared to their death. They had a perfect right to rebel; they had not entered the service under any such compact. Cortés himself was a rebel; hence the rebellion of the Velazquez men, being a rebelling against a rebel, was in truth an adherence to loyalty. Here as everywhere it was might that made right; and, indeed, with the right of these matters the narrator has little to do.
Success, shame, fear, bright prospects, had all lent their aid to hold the discontented in check, but in these several regards feeling and opinion were subject to daily fluctuations. Let serious danger or reverses come, and they would flee in a moment if they could. And the fleet lying so near was a constant temptation. Cut that off, and the nerves of every man there would be freshly strung. The meanest would suddenly become charged with a kind of nobility; they would at once become inspired with the courage that comes from desperation. Often those least inclined to fight when forced to it are the most indifferent to death. Other dormant elements would be brought out by the disappearance of those ships; union, fraternity, complete community, not only of interest but of life. Their leader with multiplied power would become their god. On him they would be dependent for all things; for food and raiment, for riches, glory, and every success; for life itself. Cortés saw all this, pondered it well, and thought it would be very pretty to play the god awhile. He would much prefer it to confinement in old Velazquez’ plaza-pen, or even in a Seville prison. Cortés was now certain in his own mind that if his band remained unbroken either by internal dissension or by white men yet to arrive, he would tread the streets of the Mexican capital before he entered the gates of the celestial city. If Montezuma would not admit him peaceably, he would gather such a force of the emperor’s enemies as would pull the kingdom down about his ears. It would be necessary on going inland to leave a garrison at Villa Rica; but it would be madness to leave also vessels in which they could sail away to Cuba or elsewhere. And finally, if the ships were destroyed, the sailors, who otherwise would be required to care for them, might be added to the army. Such were the arguments which the commander would use to win the consent of his people to one of the most desperate and daring acts ever conceived by a strategist of any age or nation.
Not that such consent was necessary. He might destroy the ships and settle with the soldiers afterward. The deed accomplished, with or without their consent, there would be but one course open to them. Nevertheless he preferred they should think themselves the authors of it rather than feel that they had been tricked, or in any way unfairly dealt with. And with the moral he would shift the pecuniary responsibility to their shoulders. So he went to work as usual, with instruments apparently independent, but whose every step and word were of his directing. One day quickly thereafter it came to pass that the masters of several of the largest ships appeared before the captain-general with lengthened faces well put on, with the sad intelligence that their respective craft were unseaworthy; indeed one of them had sunk already. They did not say they had secretly bored holes in them according to instructions. Cortés was surprised, nay he was painfully affected; Roscius himself could not have performed the part better; “for well he could dissemble when it served his purpose,” chimes in Las Casas. With Christian fortitude he said: “Well, the will of God be done; but look you sharply to the other ships.” Barnacles were then freely discussed, and teredos. And so well obeyed the mariners their instructions that soon they were able to swear that all the vessels save three were unsafe, and even these required costly repairs before they would be seaworthy.[255] Thus as by the hand of providence, to the minds of the men as they were able to bear it, the deed unfolded. Soon quite apparent became the expediency of abandoning such vessels as were leaking badly; there was trouble and no profit in attempting to maintain them, for they would surely have to be abandoned in the end. “And indeed, fellow-soldiers,” continued Cortés, “I am not sure but it were best to doom to destruction also the others, and so secure the coöperation of the sailors in the coming campaign, instead of leaving them in idleness to hatch fresh treachery.” This intimation was successful, as had been foreordained by the ruler of these events it should be. It was forthwith resolved to scuttle all the ships but one, the one brought by Salcedo. Accordingly Escalante, the alguacil mayor, a brave and able officer wholly devoted to Cortés, was sent down to Villa Rica to carry out the order, with the aid of the picked soldiers there stationed. Sails, anchors, cables, and everything that could be utilized were removed, and a few hours later some small boats were all that remained of the Cuban fleet.[256]
It was then the community first realized its situation. The followers of Cortés, with unbounded faith in their leader, did not so much care, but the partisans of Velazquez, few of whom knew that the affair had been coolly predetermined, were somewhat agitated. And when on closer inquiry they were enlightened by certain of the mariners, the cry arose that they were betrayed; they were lambs led to the slaughter. Cortés promptly faced the now furious crowd. What did they want? Were their lives more precious than those of the rest? “For shame! Be men!” he cried, in conclusion. “You should know ere this how vain are the attempts to thwart my purpose. Look on this magnificent land with its vast treasures, and narrow not your vision to your insignificant selves. Think of your glorious reward, present and to come, and trust in God, who, if it so please him, can conquer this empire with a single arm. Yet if there be one here still so craven as to wish to turn his back on the glories and advantages thus offered; if there be one here so base, so recreant to heaven, to his king, to his comrades, as to slink from such honorable duty, in God’s name let him go. There is one ship left, which I will equip at my own charge to give that man the immortal infamy he deserves.” This he said and much more, and to the desired effect. The speaker knew well how to play upon his men, as on an instrument, so that they would respond in any tune he pleased. Cheers rent the air as he concluded, in which the opposition were forced to join through very shame. Seeing which Cortés gently intimated, “Would it not be well to destroy the remaining vessel, and so make a safe, clean thing of it?” In the enthusiasm of the moment the act was consummated with hearty approval.[257]
“To Mexico!” was now the cry, and preparations for the march were at once made. Escalante, whose character and services had endeared him to Cortés, was placed in command of Villa Rica. The native chiefs were directed to regard him as the representative of the general, and to supply him with every requirement.[258]
Some nine days after the sinking of the fleet a messenger arrived from Escalante, announcing that four vessels[259] had passed by the harbor, refusing to enter, and had anchored three leagues off, at the mouth of a river. Fearing the descent upon him of Velazquez, Cortés hurried off with four horsemen, after selecting fifty soldiers to follow. Alvarado and Sandoval were left jointly in charge of the army, to the exclusion of Ávila, who manifested no little jealousy of the latter. Cortés halted at the town merely to learn particulars, declining Escalante’s hospitality with the proverb, “A lame goat has no rest.” On the way to the vessels they met a notary with two witnesses,[260] commissioned to arrange a boundary on behalf of Francisco de Garay, who claimed the coast to the north as first discoverer, and desired to form a settlement a little beyond Nautla. It appeared that Garay, who had come out with Diego Colon, and had risen from procurador of Española to become governor of Jamaica, had resolved to devote his great wealth to extending his fame as explorer and colonizer. On learning from Alaminos and his fellow voyagers of the coasts discovered in this direction, he resolved to revive the famed projects of Ponce de Leon, and with this view despatched a small fleet in 1518, under Diego de Camargo.[261] Driven back by the Floridans with great slaughter, says Gomara, the expedition sailed down to Pánuco River, again to be repulsed, with the loss of some men, who were flayed and eaten. Torralba, steward of Garay, was then sent to Spain, and there, with the aid of Garay’s friends, obtained for him a commission as adelantado and governor of the territories that he might discover north of Rio San Pedro y San Pablo.[262] Meanwhile a new expedition was despatched to Pánuco, under Alonso Álvarez Pineda, to form a settlement and to barter for gold. After obtaining some three thousand pesos, Pineda sailed southward to take possession and to select a site for the colony.[263]
And now while the notary is endeavoring to arrange matters with Cortés, Pineda waits for him a little distance from the shore. At that moment Cortés cared little for Garays or boundaries; but he would by no means object to a few more Spaniards to take the place of those he had hanged, and of others whom he might yet be obliged to hang. To this end he converted perforce to his cause the notary and his attendants. Then learning from them that Pineda could on no account be prevailed on to land for a conference, Cortés signalled to the vessels with the hope that more men would come on shore. This failing, he bethought himself of letting three of his men exchange clothes with the new-comers and approach the landing, while he marched back with the rest in full view of the vessels. As soon as it grew dark, the whole force returned to hide near the spot. It was not till late the following morning that the suspicious Pineda responded to the signals from shore, and sent off a boat with armed men. The trio now withdrew behind some bushes, as if for shade. Four Spaniards and one Indian landed, armed with two firelocks and two cross-bows, and on reaching the shrubbery they were pounced upon by the hidden force, while the boat pushed off to join the vessels all ready to sail.[264]