Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico

"Some of the natives seeking death," shouted one of the captains, derisively. "Leave them to the muskets or to our pikes; or better, heave a stone into them as they come alongside."

"What if they are dangerous? I've seen and had to fly from simpler craft before," answered an old seaman, with a growl. "What if they're filled with things that will take fire? What if these craft are fire-craft sent to destroy us?"

The suggestion caused the captain to open his mouth, and he went along the deck at a run to where the gunners stood.

"Train your pieces on them," he shouted in his excitement. "They are fire-ships, and we shall be burned. Stop them with a shot. Come! Move aside and let me take the task in hand."

They threw themselves on the cannon, while the alarm spread to the other vessels. Meanwhile Philip and Peter poled for their lives, sending the craft swiftly across the water. And as they poled Roger and the defenders watched them eagerly.

"They have not yet noticed the commotion on the far side of the gap," he said to Teotlili. "But they will see that there is something wrong soon, and then – "

"They see now, my lord. Listen to their shouts. And they are turning their guns away from us to the canoes. Will they hit them?"

"More likely to strike friend than foe," was the reassuring answer. "Ah! That shot would have sunk a single canoe with the wash it caused. Philip is lighting up."

It was still sufficiently light to enable those on the causeway to see what was passing, and Roger distinctly noticed Philip stand erect, and lift his pole into the canoe. Then there was a glow from the smouldering match he carried, followed by a burst of smoke, and then by a leaping flame which seemed to spread all over the craft. No! Not all over, for there was Philip at the stern, surrounded by flame, it seemed, and still poling towards the enemy. As for Peter, a shot fired from the nearest brigantine had struck the water within a foot of him, and as Roger had said, had well-nigh swamped his frail boat. However, he was unhurt, and following Philip's example, struck his match and then poled the flaming craft towards the brigantines. Fierce shouts resounded on every side, while aboard the brigantines there was the utmost confusion. Men raced up and down the decks, while the crews were called to the anchors. Some endeavoured to handle the pieces. But none were fashioned to be rapidly depressed, and so it happened that not a single shot struck the fire-craft. Nor did those who held the muskets help in the matter, for they too were taken with a panic. They threw down their weapons and helped at the anchor, or seized the long poles and endeavoured to push the vessel away into the lake.

Thud! The canoe in which stood Philip struck the side of the nearest brigantine, and Roger saw the young Englishman coolly grapple the rail with the hook with which his pole was armed. Then he beckoned to the native, and handing him the pole, drew his sword. In another moment he had sprung aboard, and the last that Roger saw of him he was slashing furiously at the enemy, while the native, clinging to the fire-craft till he was scorched, kept it close to the enemy's vessel till it had caught fire. Then he called loudly to Philip, and waiting till the latter had leaped into the water, disappeared in the same himself. Peter had equal luck, and showed the same pluck and determination. Indeed, within five minutes two of the brigantines were in flames from end to end, for they were constructed of a highly inflammable wood, while their crews were plunging overboard in frantic alarm. As for the others, they cut away from their anchorage and poled into deep water, their crews aghast at the boldness and the success of the Mexicans. On the far side of the gap the Spaniards could hardly believe their eyes. They stared at the blazing vessels, forgetting their own particular portion of the conflict. It was an opportunity, and Roger seized upon it.

"The plank, Tamba," he shouted. "Now follow, every one, and sweep them from the causeway."

He leaped upon the top of the barricade, his tall figure standing out finely against the glare of the blazing vessels. Then, as Tamba placed the plank in position, he ran across it, and threw himself alone upon the Spaniards.

"Ah! A sortie! The dog of an English giant!" shouted their leader, who happened to be nearest. "Rally men! To the gap! Hold the causeway!"

His sword leaped to the front, and he made a thrust at Roger, which might well have transfixed him. But Roger had not experienced all this fighting for nothing. He put the thrust aside with a swift movement, and returned the blow with a terrific cut which fell full upon the Spaniard's helmet. There was the noise of rending steel, the Spaniard gasped and let his sword fall with a clatter. Then he pitched forward on to the causeway, and happening to tumble into a portion of the gap which had been only partially filled, and which sloped steeply, he slid, an inert mass, down the slope, and disappeared in the lake.

"Rally! Rally! Men of Mexico. Your leader is here. Forward, and drive the enemy! Forward, till we reach their camp!"

It was Teotlili who took up the shout, and voiced it to the pitch of his lungs. Not that the Mexicans needed encouragement, for their excitement was great, and their spirits raised to the utmost pitch by the success of the fire-ships. They shouted lustily, and then, to the accompaniment of shouts and shrill whistles came over the barricade like a swarm of bees, and hurled themselves against the Spaniards. And now numbers and the suddenness of the sortie told in their favour; for whereas formerly those armed with the native sword had been practically helpless in the face of the Spanish swordsmen, now the rush carried all before the Mexicans. The Spaniards broke and fled, Roger and his men in hot pursuit.

"To their camp! To their camp!" he shouted. Then seeing Teotlili, he urged his way toward him, the Mexicans making a path at once.

"The guns and the ammunition," he said. "Tell off men to take them into the city. They will be useful. We must have them."

He went on at a run till he and his men were in the camp, which had been formed close to the edge of the causeway. But here the enemy rallied, while a strong force came to their aid. It was time to retire, and Roger whistled. Then he waved his arm.

"Back to the barricade," he shouted. "Run! Run!"

The retirement was carried out swiftly, so swiftly, in fact, that the Spaniards were dumfounded. They were preparing to hold their camp and administer punishment, when suddenly the attackers disappeared as quickly as they had come, carrying with them two cannon and a small supply of ammunition.

"'Tis the English dog's leading," said Cortes, with a growl, as he looked out at the lake and watched the blazing vessels. "Well is it for us that I had a fleet constructed. This man must be slain. Would that I had hanged him that very night instead of keeping him till the morrow. And that led to the freedom of all his friends. They say these Englishmen are dogged fighters, who battle with their heads as well as with their arms. We shall see, we shall see. But if I catch them – !"

No doubt he would have hanged them at once, and there was much cause for his vexation. Indeed, when the tale of the sortie was completed, and his losses known, the leader of the invaders ground his teeth with anger.

"But it will not occur again," he said to himself. "There will be no more fire-ships, and no more sorties. I will double the guards, while the brigantines will never anchor. Thus they will be able to slip away on the instant."

Roger and the Mexicans had indeed retrieved their defeat of the morning, and had caused great loss to the enemy; for they had destroyed three of the brigantines, and had killed many of the Spanish soldiers and sailors, a loss which Fernando Cortes could not easily replace. But it could not always be so, as they discovered in the course of the next few weeks; for the besiegers attacked in three separate parties every day, and the causeways rang with the sound of strife. Gaps which had been diligently constructed were filled in one by one, while, finding that the enemy repaired their losses and remade the gaps during the night, there being ample labour, Cortes caused his men to camp on the ground they had won, till that portion of the causeways which had fallen to the three parties presented a curious scene. Tiny huts were constructed along them, where the enemy lived.

By now another enemy was attacking the besieged. Starvation stared them in the face, for the brigantines prevented a fresh supply of provisions from being brought to the city. The water in the tanks was very low, and pestilence, the accompaniment of every siege and every campaign, stalked through the city. Men and women and children died by the score, till there were none to bury them. But still the gallant resistance was continued.

"Not till the city is in ruins and the last man slain shall we give way," said Teotlili. "In these matters the priests rule the king, and that is their decision. If it were not so, I should say the same. What sort of life awaits us if we are beaten and live? Slavery, and torture. Yes, Tamba has told me the tale of Cuba, and that is what will happen here. These foolish native allies who have gone over to the Spaniards are but helping in their own ruin, for they, too, will be trampled underfoot. They will be hewers of wood and drawers of water to these men who attack us. We will die at our posts. That is our last word."

The decision was, in fact, adhered to firmly, though, as the siege closed in and want and pestilence did its work, Cortes endeavoured time and again to alter it, and to induce the Mexicans to capitulate. Nothing but defeat of the last man would end the struggle, and therefore he set his parties to their task again. A huge effort was made to complete the junction of the three divisions, and we shall see how Cortes fared, and how the Mexicans struggled to prevent the junction.

CHAPTER XIX

Alvarez probes the Secret

It was early morning, and a brilliant sun threw slanting rays across the dancing waters of the great lake and across the picturesque buildings of the fairy-like city of Mexico. From the summits of a hundred sacrificial towers rose the smoke of the eternal fires, while the figures of the hateful priests stood out prominently. It was the dawn of a day likely to be momentous in the history of Spain and of Mexico; for Cortes was about to make his biggest attempt to conquer. Difficulties and danger but drew him on to further exertions, and increased opposition but whetted his appetite for conquest. This day must see the junction of his two divisions, for the troops under Cristoval de Olid had already joined with the force under Sandoval, and both occupied the camp of the causeway, the causeway leading directly north for more than a league into the heart of the city.

The reader has read of the fighting there, and a few words will relate the fortunes of that other division which had set out from Tlacuba, under the command of Alvarado. Like the others, it had advanced for more than a league, filling gaps continuously, and camping on the ground which it had won, for the simple reason that a night saw all its work repaired by the Mexicans. It had advanced, and, like the men under Cortes, it had met with disaster on one occasion; for the Mexicans, instructed by their English cacique, had laid an ambush for them, had lured them on, and then had surrounded them, capturing a few of the Spaniards alive, whom they had ruthlessly sacrificed, though Roger did his utmost to prevent the act. But they had not reached the market square yet, and had not come into touch with their comrades.

As for the brigantines, they had learned to be wary, and their commanders had gradually driven the canoes from the lake, had found huge water streets capable of containing them, and had in this manner reached both sides of the causeways, and the interior of some parts of the city. Everything, therefore, was ripe for a junction, and the king of Mexico, with Roger, Teotlili, and a score of his nobles and caciques, stood on the summit of the huge tower dedicated to the god of war, and looked out on this early morning awaiting the long-expected attack.

"Who would think that there was war?" said Roger, as he stepped to the very edge of the giddy height, just as he had done on that eventful morning when he and Tamba were alone with Teotlili, wondering whether it was to be peace or the reverse. "The city is unharmed, and nothing speaks of war save the broken causeways and the camps of the enemy. A pity it is that men cannot live in peace."

"A pity indeed," answered Teotlili, gloomily. "The morning is fair, and the city never looked better. But go into the houses and into the streets and there you will see much that speaks of war. Our people die by the hundred, and their bodies lie unburied. It is war, friend Roger, and this day will see a more bitter struggle than has hitherto taken place. Our spies have given us certain information. I trust that we are prepared. There is nothing that we have not discussed?"

"Nothing. We have talked through the night, and now the orders have been sent to the people. We must hope for success. Look now at the camps. There is a stir there. The Spaniards are moving."

"And there are the horses. The men are mounting. The attack will commence before the hour is gone. See, my lord, those at Tlacuba are prepared also."

From the elevation of this gigantic temple it was possible to see every corner of the city and of the surrounding lake, and there spread out below in the sunlight were the armies of the invaders, thousands upon thousands of native allies, and the handful of truly gallant and steadfast Spaniards who formed but a tiny nucleus. And they were moving forward. Mass had been attended with due reverence, and the two forces were advancing to the attack, hoping to unite in the market square. In the city every house was occupied. Thousands of bowmen and men armed with the new and more effective weapon introduced by Roger lay concealed on the terraces, in the gardens, and in every possible nook. The summit of every tower was crowded, bricks and stones were held in readiness to be hurled down on the attackers, while in the streets were thousands, all with complete instructions.

"Their boldness shall be their undoing," said the king. "We will follow the advice of Roger the cacique to the very letter, and this morn shall see a turn in the tide of our fortunes. Let all who have commands now go to them."

There was solemn leave-taking, and then Roger and his friends parted. An hour later the clash of arms was heard, while the city rang with the thunder of cannon and with the crash of musketry. The Spaniards forced their way along the causeways, while the brigantines poled along the canals, firing into the flanks. Then Cortes himself advanced, and divided his men into three parties.

"To the market square," he said, "and see that none penetrates beyond a gap till it is filled. Now forward, in the name of Our Lady."

At the command Spaniards and allies pressed on into the city, fighting every step of the way. Bolts were rained upon them from the houses, and every building meant an attack, a fierce resistance, and then victory. That accomplished, the next house called for the same efforts, while the native allies who followed destroyed the building just captured, levelling it to the ground. And so for many hours the conflict continued, the Mexicans resisting fiercely, and yet giving way steadily as if by preconceived design, while on the summit of the tower stood their king, his eyes on them, watching how they carried out his orders.

"We have them in our hands," he suddenly cried, with a shout of joy. "Look, all, and see the gap which has been passed. It has not been filled. Our people retire hastily, and lure the enemy on. They hear the shouts and the cannon of their friends, and they long to reach the market square first. They are rushing forward in the excitement, and they are neglecting to fill the breaches. In a little while we will turn. But let them advance farther in. Let the city close about them, and then – !"

He became almost inarticulate, so great was his enthusiasm. He leaned over the edge of the tower, watching the conflict as if his life depended upon it. And every second some ejaculation escaped his lips. His feet fidgeted. He would have rushed below had that been possible.

"My lord distresses himself," said one of the priests, advancing to his side, and displaying the red robes of the chief of his profession. "This day will go well for us. That is the answer of the war god. The English cacique, whom we once almost sacrificed, will be the saviour of our city and of the nation. See him there. He fights as one who values his life less than the honour of victory."

"He is a noble youth and a great leader," was the answer, "and his reward shall be great. Listen, and mark my words. This giant who came so strangely amongst us will stand by us to the end – if the end should unhappily come."

"He will die if need be," was the answer.

"And if resistance becomes no longer possible he will fly."

"That is due to him," replied the priest. "He is not of our blood. He came as a prisoner, and we treated him harshly. He has shown devotion to us, and if our cause be lost it will be right that he and his comrades should fly. They have homes of their own, no doubt. They have a right to return to them."

"And we owe them all. This Roger the cacique is the heart of the defence. His reward should be certain. Cannot you find this treasure and hand it to him now, so that it may be safe in his keeping?"