The terrible march.
Thus far the weather had been fair; but now it changed, and a season of drenching rains commenced. Still, the band, impelled by their indomitable leader, pressed on. They now entered upon a very extraordinary region, where for leagues they toiled through dismal ravines, frowned upon by barren and craggy rocks. The ground was covered with innumerable flint-stones, peculiarly hard and sharp, which, like knives, pierced the feet of the men and the horses. In this frightful march nearly every horse was wounded and lamed, and eight perished. Many of the men also suffered severely. The difficulty and suffering were so great, that upon emerging from this rocky desert the army was assembled to return solemn thanks to God for their escape.
New embarrassments.
Famine.
But now they encountered new embarrassments. The streams, swollen by the rains, came roaring in impetuous torrents from the mountains, and the intervales and the wide-spreading meadows were flooded. One stream, foaming through enormous precipices, emitted a roar which was heard at the distance of six miles. It required three days to throw a bridge across this raging mountain torrent. The natives took advantage of this delay to flee from their homes, carrying with them all their provisions. Again famine threatened the camp. This was, perhaps, the darkest hour of the march. The horses were lame. The men were bleeding, and way-worn, and gaunt. Death by starvation seemed inevitable. "I own," says Diaz, "I never in my life felt my heart so depressed as when I found nothing to be had for myself or my people."
They reach Taica.
Cortez, however, sent out some very efficient foraging parties in all directions. Impelled by the energies of despair, the detachment succeeded in obtaining food. This strengthened them until they reached a large town called Taica, where they again rejoiced in abundance. The rain still continued to fall in torrents, and the soldiers, drenched by night and by day, toiled along through the mire. Even Cortez lost his habitual placidity of temper and began to complain. The vain and gossiping Diaz would not have his readers unmindful of the eminent services he rendered in these emergencies. With much affected humility he narrates his exploits.
Humility of Diaz.
"Cortez," says he, "returned me thanks for my conduct. But I will drop this subject; for what is praise but emptiness and unprofitableness, and what advantage is it to me that people in Mexico should tell me what we endured, or that Cortez should say, when he wanted me to go on this last expedition, that, next to God, it was me on whom he placed his reliance?"
Cortez finds there is no insurrection to be quelled.
They now arrived upon the banks of a river which led to the sea-coast. At the mouth of this river Olid had established one of his important settlements. A march of four days was required to reach the coast. Cortez, who was entirely ignorant of the death of Olid, and of the overthrow of his power, sent forward scouts to ascertain the state of things, as it was his intention to fall upon Olid by surprise at night. The army moved slowly down the stream, feeding miserably upon nuts and roots. The scouts returned with the intelligence that there were no enemies to be met; that the insurrection was entirely quelled, and the colony, consisting of several scattered settlements, was in perfect subjection to the authority of Cortez. It is difficult to imagine the feelings with which this intelligence was received. Cortez must have felt, at least for a few moments, exceedingly foolish. The Herculean enterprise of a march of eighteen hundred miles through a pathless wilderness, peopled with savage foes, where many hundreds of his army had perished from fatigue and famine, and all had endured inconceivable hardships, had been utterly fruitless. It had been what is sometimes called a wild-goose chase, upon a scale of grandeur rarely paralleled.