Hostilities were thereupon resumed, and Cortés did not delay the prearranged attempt to complete the capture of the approach to Tlacopan. The presence of the imperial corpse had either a retarding influence on the movements of the enemy, or else the Spaniards sallied unexpectedly and fought with greater energy, for the four remaining bridges were gained with little difficulty, and twenty horsemen passed on to the shore, while the infantry and allies took possession of the route, and began filling in the channels with débris, so as to form a solid path, or to repair the bridges at the deeper places. At this time a messenger arrived with the announcement from the chiefs who were directing the siege of the fort that they were willing to treat for peace. Leaving the forces in charge of Velazquez, Cortés hurried with some horsemen to answer the welcome summons. The chiefs proposed that if pardon was granted them for past offences they would raise the siege, repair the bridges and causeways, and return to peaceful intercourse. In order to arrange the conditions they demanded the liberation of the captured high-priest. This was at once agreed to, and after some discussion messengers were despatched to different parts of the city, bearing orders, it was said, to stay hostilities.
It is somewhat singular that the astute Cortés should have given such ready credence to proposals so advantageous to himself. Yet this appears to have been the case. Delighted with the happy adjustment of affairs, he ordered prepared a grand supper; but he had hardly seated himself at table before tidings reached him that the Mexicans had returned to the attack on the causeway, largely reinforced by land and water, and were regaining the bridges taken that day. The conference had been a ruse to throw the Spaniards off their guard, to obtain the release of the high-priest, from whom besides much information was expected about the condition of the besieged, and to gain time for bringing up reinforcements.[813] Fearful that his retreat would yet be cut off, Cortés galloped back to the causeway, threw himself on the enemy, recovered the bridges, and was soon in hot pursuit of the flying Mexicans. He had not proceeded far, however, when the Indians, who had rushed for safety into the lake and the canals, were encouraged to return to the attack and cut off the cavalry. With furious charges they drove the guard from the bridges, and began to destroy them and remove the filling.[814] The causeway swarmed again with foes, and the water round it was alive with canoes, whence myriads of missiles were directed against the horsemen as they pushed their way back. On reaching the last causeway breach, nearest the city, the riders feared they would be overwhelmed, for here the enemy was gathered in masses and had destroyed the passage. Nothing was left for them but to take to the water, midst a storm of stones and darts, while lines of spears and javelins pressed against them from the land and from canoes. The party was thrown in disorder, and one rider was pitched from his saddle during the mêlée, obstructing the passage to the rest.[815] Cortés remained the last to cover the retreat, and single-handed now and then turned on the swarming warriors, striking with the energy of despair. Eager to secure the great general, the enemy pressed heavily upon him, and but for the stout armor protecting himself and the horse he would certainly have perished. As it was, he received two severe wounds in the knee, besides many scratches. The last Spaniard having left the bank, Cortés rang loud his San Pedro cry, and clearing the way he leaped his heavily laden horse across the chasm, six feet in width, and quickly left behind him the discomfited crowd. “Had not God helped me,” he writes, “that moment would have been my last.” Indeed, it was already rumored in the city that he was dead. It being found impossible to hold the causeway bridges, a guard was left only at the others, while the remainder of the troops returned to the fort, worn-out and demoralized.[816]
Long since it had been agreed among the Spaniards that the city must be evacuated; time and method were the only questions. The former of these was now resolved on by the council: it should be this very night. It was safer to meet the issue now than later. The enemy was hourly reinforced. Perilous indeed was the undertaking to pass with luggage, war stores, prisoners, and women over the broken causeway in the darkness; but to remain was death. Botello, the astrologer, had declared for this time, and so it was determined. For Botello was wise and prudent, knowing Latin and the stars; he had foretold the greatness of Cortés, and had recommended his night attack on Narvaez, and general and soldiers believed in him.[817] Had he lived a century or two later his words might have been employed as the vox stellarum by the almanac makers. The Mexicans had said that they would make it a time of sore distress, any attempted escape of the intruders, a time when men must struggle, and women would pray and weep; and if so, it were no worse for the fugitives that black night should fling her mantle over the bloody scene.
Since the Indians were supposed to have destroyed the crossing at the causeway channels, a portable bridge was made with which to effect the passage. Two more would probably have been made had time and convenience permitted, but misfortune willed it otherwise. It was agreed that a large portion of the effects must be left behind in order not to encumber the march, but the gold demanded special care. The royal officials, Mejía and Ávila, were charged to secure it, and for this purpose a number of carriers were assigned, the general giving also one of his own mares. Their convoy was intrusted to a body of infantry, under Alonso de Escobar.[818] The secretary, Hernandez, and the royal notaries were called to testify that all had been done that was possible. There still remained a large quantity of the bulky jewels belonging to the king, besides a mass of unappropriated treasure, which could not be intrusted to carriers, or for which no carriers were found, and rather than leave them to the ‘Indian dogs’ Cortés announced that the soldiers might take all they wished—after permitting his favorites the first selection. He warned them, however, that the more they took the more their safety would be endangered. The adherents of Cortés do not appear to have been eager to encumber themselves, and Bernal Diaz shared this prudence in taking only four chalchiuite stones. The men of Narvaez practised less restraint, and many loaded themselves with the metal. Cortés was afterward charged with having appropriated a considerable share of the wealth thus thrown open; he certainly had funds with which to send for horses, war material, and supplies.[819]
Sandoval was appointed to lead the van, with two hundred infantry and twenty horsemen, assisted by Ordaz, Andrés de Tapia, and others. With him went fifty men under Captain Magarino to carry the bridge. They were pledged to remain at their post to the last, and were escorted by a select body of infantry and allies. For the middle were destined the baggage and treasure, the prisoners and the sick, under a large escort, supervised by Cortés himself, who, with Olid, Morla, Ávila, and other captains, and a special force of one hundred men, were to render aid where needed. The artillery was intrusted to two hundred and fifty Tlascaltecs and fifty soldiers, and the rear was placed in charge of Alvarado and Velazquez, with thirty horsemen and about one hundred adherents of Cortés, with most of the men of Narvaez. The allied forces, of whom a number appear to have returned home during the inaction of Montezuma’s captivity, and who had suffered greatly during the siege, must still have numbered nearly six thousand men, including carriers, distributed among the three divisions.[820] Among the prisoners Cortés enumerates the legitimate son of Montezuma, and two of his daughters, probably those bestowed on the general in marriage, King Cacama and his younger brother and successor, and several other high personages.[821] The sick were to be carried in hammocks and behind riders.
It is the evening of the 30th of June.[822] Fiery copper has been the sky that day; the sun blood-red and moon-like, turning day to night, when night is so soon to be employed as day. As the hour approaches, a fog sets in, which thickens into mist and denser moisture until, to favor the Spaniards, providence turns it to a drizzling rain,[823] thus to veil their movements, and make substantial the silence of the city, the lake, the distant wood; and thereupon all join fervently in the prayer of Father Olmedo and commend their lives to almighty God.
About midnight the order is given to march.[824] Stealthily they creep down the temple square and reach the Tlacopan road.[825] The streets are wholly deserted. All is quiet, save the dull rumble of tramping soldiers. The blessed rain, or some supernatural interposition, seems to keep the whole city within doors. And if this kind power will but have patience and not desert them for one brief hour—ah, it is so easy for Omnipotence to help! Along the road like a phantom the army moves. The van picks up the guard at the canal crossings. The causeway is almost reached. Already they begin to breathe freer; a feeling of intense relief steals into their breasts, and—Mother of God! what noise is that? It is the piercing outcry of a woman[826]—may the foul fiend seize her!—breaking upon the stillness like a warning note from the watch-tower of Avernus. On the instant the war-drum of the Tlatelulco temple sends forth its doleful sound, chilling the fugitives to the very heart’s core. Quickly its tones are drowned by the nearer, shriller trumpet-blasts and shouts of warriors, echoed and reëchoed from every quarter.
Meanwhile the advance column had reached the sixth bridge crossing,[827] the first to connect with the causeway, and had obliged the Mexican picket to retire, after exchanging a few shots. The portable bridge was here laid, and the van crossed with quickened steps, followed by the centre with the baggage and artillery. At this juncture the enemy fell upon the rear, rending the air with their yells, sending their missiles fast and furious, while from the cross-roads issued a swarm, with lance and sword, on Alvarado’s flank. Over the water resounded their cries, and canoes came crowding round the causeway to attack the forward ranks. To add to the horrors of the tumult, several men and horses slipped on the wet bridge and fell into the water; others, midst heart-rending cries, were crowded over the edge by those behind. All the rest succeeded in crossing, however, except about one hundred soldiers. These, it is said, bewildered by the battle cries and death shrieks, turned back to the fort, and there held out for three days, till hunger forced them to surrender and meet the fate of sacrificial victims at the coronation feast of Cuitlahuatzin.[828]
The half mile of causeway extending between the first and second breaches was now completely filled with Spaniards and allies, whose flanks were harassed by the forces brought forward in canoes on either side. Dark and foggy as the night was, the outline of the Indian crews could be distinguished by the white and colored tilmatli in which many of them were clad, owing to the coldness of the air. Fearlessly they jumped to the banks, and fought the Spaniards with lance and javelin, retreating into the water the moment the charge was over. Some crept up the road sides, and seizing the legs of the fugitives endeavored to drag them into the water. So crowded were the soldiers that they could scarcely defend themselves; aggressive movements were out of the question.
Repeated orders had been transmitted to Magarino to hurry forward the removal of his bridge to the second channel, and, seeing no more soldiers on the opposite bank of the first opening, he prepared to obey, but the structure had been so deeply imbedded in the banks from the heavy traffic that his men labored for some time in vain to lift it, exposed all the while to a fierce onslaught. Finally, after a number of the devoted band had succumbed, the bridge was released, but before it could be drawn over the causeway the enemy had borne it down at the other end so as effectually to wreck it.[829] The loss of the bridge was a great calamity, and was so regarded by the troops, hemmed in as they were between two deep channels, on a causeway which in width would hold only twenty men in a line. On all sides were enemies thirsting for blood. Presently a rush was made for the second channel, where the soldiers had already begun, in face of the foe, to cross on a single beam, which had been left intact when the bridge was destroyed. As this was an exceedingly slow process, many took to the water, only to receive their death-blow at the hands of the watermen. Some were taken prisoners; some sank beneath their burden of gold; the horses found a ford on one side where the water was not above the saddle.