Chapter XI

Cortes Defeats Narvaez—Meanwhile the Mexicans, Outraged by Alvarado, Rise in Revolt—Cortes Returns

Narvaez had advanced to Zempoala. Sandoval, meanwhile, confiding the colony at Vera Cruz to the protection of the allies, hastened to unite his force with that of Cortes. They met at a spot about twelve miles distant from Zempoala, and numbered, all told, not more than two hundred and fifty men. Cortes steadily advanced upon Zempoala until he was only a mile away, and Narvaez, who had the utmost contempt for him, deciding to give battle at once, advanced to meet him with his greatly superior force. A fierce rain storm occurred that day, and Cortes had so well chosen a position on the opposite side of a swollen stream that Narvaez did not discover him. The latter’s soldiers murmured and protested there was no enemy in the vicinity. “What is the use,” they exclaimed, “of staying here to fight the elements? There is no enemy here and nothing to fear in such stormy weather. Let us return to Zempoala and be ready in the morning to defeat the enemy if he appears.” Narvaez, who was not at all disinclined to follow their suggestion, returned, gave the necessary instructions for their safety, and then displayed the most utter negligence, as if no enemy were near. His soldiers, many of whom were not yet accustomed to the hardships of the march, were delighted with the arrangements and were equally negligent. Cortes, believing that Narvaez’ contempt for him, and the fatigue of his not yet hardened soldiers, would lead them to be off their guard, decided to make a night attack. He drew up his little army, explained his purpose, and found to his great delight that it was not at all necessary to encourage them in this venturesome task as all expressed their greatest willingness to follow him. The army was divided into three detachments, one led by Sandoval, one by Olid, and the other by Cortes himself.

It was one of the darkest and most inhospitable nights imaginable. The swollen stream rushed along like a mountain torrent, and there was no way of crossing it except by fording. Cortes was the first to plunge in, and his men followed him with enthusiastic alacrity. The water was up to their necks, but all save two men safely reached the other side. The dripping soldiers formed in order and marched to Zempoala in death-like stillness, each carrying a sword, a dagger, and a long Indian spear. The spear was for use against the enemy’s cavalry. Cortes’ conjectures were confirmed. Narvaez was so unconcerned that he had placed only two sentinels on guard. One of these was surprised and taken prisoner, the other escaped and fled to the city in a panic of fear to give the alarm. Narvaez’ contempt for his enemy was so great that he declared the sentinel had been dreaming and that it was ridiculous to imagine that Cortes would dare to attack him voluntarily with a handful of men.

Suddenly he heard the battle cry as Cortes and his men hurled themselves upon the city like a thunderstorm, terror following in their wake. Too late Narvaez realized his foolish error, but he hastened as fast as he could to rally his men. He and his troops were quartered in and around a great temple which the enemy stormed so quickly and irresistibly that only a single cannon could be used against them. Sandoval, who commanded the advance, captured the cannon and drove the enemy helter-skelter up the temple steps. The struggle was a desperate one. Narvaez, who was in the temple, sought to rally his men and inspire them with the example of his own courage, but Sandoval continued driving them before him. Olid supported him, and Cortes, who forgot for the moment that he was the commander, sprang to the front and inspired his men with his own daring. A soldier in Cortes’ troops suddenly discovered that fire had broken out among the reeds on the roof of the temple. The building was immediately in flames and Narvaez found himself forced to leave. He strove at the head of his men to make his way out, but a spear was thrust in his eye and he fell. Sandoval seized him, dragged him down the stairs quickly, bound him, and bore him to a place of safety in the rear. The victors raised a triumphant shout, and the enemy, now without a leader, became so panic-stricken that their resistance grew weaker and weaker. A general holocaust would have been inevitable had not Cortes offered pardon to all who should come out and surrender. Narvaez’ men had seen a countless number of little flickering lights in the darkness of the night, which resembled matches, and which led them to believe Cortes had a large force of arquebusiers posted in the thickets, for fire-arms at that time were always discharged by matches. This fancy—for these lights were made by glow-worms—increased the alarm of the enemy, and at last no further resistance was made.

The victory was complete. While the air was full of the shouts of the victors Cortes seated himself and, after throwing a richly embroidered cloak about his shoulders, received the congratulations of his officers and soldiers. He graciously permitted the common soldiers to kiss his hand, paid special distinction to the officers, and cordially greeted those of the enemy who had once been his friends. Indeed he treated them in such a considerate manner that those who but a short time since had fought against him became his friends. In this way his little army was increased by the addition of eight hundred fresh and well-armed soldiers, an increase which secured for him the most powerful army yet seen in that part of the world. As soon as the wounded Narvaez came to himself it was with a deadly feeling of humiliation that he found himself chained hand and foot and in the power of the enemy for whom he had had so much contempt. Cortes desired to see him without his knowledge so that he might not seem to be gloating over his misfortune, but as soon as he entered the room the respect shown by the soldiers in attendance betrayed his presence. The proud Narvaez turned to him and said: “Señor Cortes, you have cause to congratulate yourself upon the good luck which has made me your prisoner.” Such haughtiness seemed to need some reproof, so Cortes replied: “All that God does is well done; meanwhile, I assure you that I consider the victory just won and your capture as among my slightest achievements.” Cortes kept him bound and had him taken to Vera Cruz.

Hardly had Cortes enjoyed a few hours of rejoicing over his quick and glorious victory than his attention was directed to fresh dangers which had arisen, like a distant storm, in another place. Messengers came from Mexico with the unpleasant news that the people of the city had risen in revolt and attacked the Spaniards left behind, and that Alvarado was trying to protect himself against them in his stronghold. Montezuma himself had sent one of his people to implore Cortes to return as quickly as possible and put down the uprising. The danger was so great and threatening that Cortes lost no time in going to the rescue of his people. After he had provided for the safety of the vessels by manning them with his own crews, he placed himself at the head of his now formidable army and marched as rapidly as possible through Tlaxcala to the capital. The faithful Tlaxcalans offered to reinforce him with their entire war power, but he contented himself by taking only two thousand men and giving them hearty thanks for their steadfast loyalty. His march was made in a cautious manner but his good fortune and the simplicity of the Mexicans made caution superfluous. It would have been easy to cut off his return to the capital by destroying the causeways, but the Mexicans were either too stupid or too timorous to do it. Cortes found them just as he had left them, and nothing stood in the way of his entrance into the city. This occurred June 24, 1520.

But how different was the manner of this from his first entrance! This time there was no one to receive him, no one who looked on in astonishment, no one who raised a cry of joy. All was silent in the deserted streets, and none of Alvarado’s soldiers was seen until the Spanish quarters were reached. Then there were cordial greetings on both sides, embraces, and exultant shouts without end. Alvarado and his men were delighted at their unexpected deliverance from an appalling danger. Cortes and his companions were overjoyed with the double pleasure of victory and meeting their companions, and Montezuma himself, who had kept his promise not to leave the Spanish quarters, appeared to sympathize with the delight of his oppressors.

Cortes now learned all that had taken place during his absence. Infuriated by their treatment at the hands of the malicious Spaniards, the Mexicans had rushed to arms. Alvarado gave his consent for a celebration in honor of Pitzliputzli if they would appear at the temple unarmed. As the Mexicans, among them several hundred of their prominent men, were engaged in the ceremonies the Spaniards fell upon them and murdered many. The survivors were infuriated. Neither their own danger nor that of their imprisoned sovereign deterred them from attacking the Spanish quarters with such fierceness that Alvarado and his little band had difficulty in protecting themselves. Then two vessels were burned, four Spaniards killed, and several wounded. The rest expected their destruction, but a few days before Cortes’ arrival the Mexicans suddenly ceased hostilities and remained quiet. With his extraordinary force, and considering the extreme awe with which the Mexicans regarded him, it would undoubtedly have been easy for him to have put down the uprising at once. But his methods of administration were now changed. Intoxicated with the astonishing good fortune which had accompanied his every move, he regarded each new danger with the utmost contempt and did not even consider it worth while any longer to conceal his intentions. From this time on he utterly disregarded Montezuma and so far abandoned his previous prudence as to pay no attention to the just indignation of these outraged people.