Chapter XXVII: Montoro Leads a Chant

"The ships are burnt!" "Our ships are burnt!" resounded on all sides from the Spanish troops rushing from their quarters in that new Villa Rica de Vera Cruz.

Consternation, fear, and fury gave ever-increasing emphasis to that one wild, startled shout, "Our ships are burnt!"

"Said I not well," muttered the discontented priest Father Juan Diaz, instigator of the former conspiracy--"said I not well that this Cortes was leading us like cattle, for his own renown, to be butchered in the shambles!"

Even Father Olmedo, and Morla, and others of his stamp, eagerly watching for opportunities to earn distinction, felt their hearts sink heavily as they repeated that startled cry, "Our ships are burnt!"

For one half-hour it may have been that Hernando Cortes trembled, and that his friends feared for him, and for themselves.

"But after all," said Juan de Cabrera, recovering his usual off-hand carelessness, "one can but die once, and though, as you yourself said, Captain, one would rather die at the hands of others than one's own friends, or one's own countrymen, still, when the breath is once fairly out of the body, I scarcely suppose one will care much what hand drove it forth."

"That is true," replied Cortes, with a sudden return of his usual resolute energy and undaunted bearing, and as another tumultuous shout rent the air throughout the so-called town of Vera Cruz, the Captain-General strode forth from his hut, and with stentorian tones exclaimed to his mutinous followers--

"What means this uproar, comrades? If you have complaints to make, I am here. Make them to me."

"Our ships are burnt, and by your orders," came the reply, but by no means from all throats now, and from none so loudly as before. Some were cowed in the actual presence of that resolute commander of theirs, others were awed into admiration and fresh attachment by his dauntless attitude.

Still, a certain number there were who yet reiterated that reproachful cry, "Our ships are burnt!"

"Yes, comrades, it is true," exclaimed Cortes, in tones as loud and resolute as before. "Our ships are burnt, but not before the foul creatures of these seas had so eaten through them, that they had been water coffins for any who had trusted their lives to them for the voyage back to Spain; ay, or even to our new Santiago yonder. Those who had gone on board them had gone to their death."

"And those who stay here stay to their death," called a harsh voice from the midst of the crowd. "You might at least have given us our choice."

"And so he has, coward," shouted Alvarado. "Stand forth and show thyself, and any others of thy chattering-teethed brethren, and I will gather the bundle of you in my arms as one gathers a bundle of cotton, and fling the worthless bale on shipboard! Faugh! the Captain wants not such as thou to help him on the road to glory and renown."

The tone of this tirade was more scathing in its contempt than even the words, and a momentary hush followed it. None stood forth to accept the untempting offer of its maker.

At length Cortes once again broke the silence. Distinctly, but slowly, and more calmly than before he addressed his assembled army--

"What the Captain, Don Pedro de Alvarado, saith is true. For those who chose flight there is still the means. I desire no unwilling comrades. For me, I have chosen my part. I remain here so long as there is one to bear me company. But for those who shrink from the dangers of our glorious enterprise, let them go home, in God's name. There is still one vessel left. Let them take that and return to Cuba. They can tell there how they deserted their commander and their comrades, and then patiently await us until our return with the Aztecs' spoils."[4]

[Footnote 4: 'Hist. Conquest of Mexico.'--Prescott.]

Cortes ceased, and for some moments there was a silence throughout the small army, broken only by the humming of the insects and the occasional clink of a sword. But Juan de Cabrera never felt much reverence for silence.

"How now," he shouted mockingly, "how now, ye bold cravens! Where are all your voices? Ye were brave enough a few minutes since. Come along with you to the front. Or are ye, in very truth, turned too cowardly even to confess your cowardice, ye miserable crew!"

It seemed so, for there was still no answer from even a single voice, and Cortes wisely changed the question, and in a few moments the whole air was resounding with the enthusiastic acclaim from every throat:

"To Mexico!--to Mexico! Lead on, Captain! Lead us on to Mexico!"

"All the same," muttered a sullen-browed soldier to Juan Diaz the priest, who stood beside him--"all the same, father, you did say that we should be traitors to ourselves if any longer we continued to follow yon upstart."

"Hold thy peace, fool," returned the discontented ecclesiastic. "Knowest thou not that for all things, even for revolt, a fitting time is needful?"

And with that sententious remark the politic priest edged himself away to safer neighbourhood, and resumed the cry as lustily as the truest among Cortes' followers--

"To Mexico! Lead on to Mexico!"

Well satisfied with the change effected thus rapidly in his soldiers' sentiments, the Commander suddenly resolved to give the new-born enthusiasm a safe outlet, and at the same time to further one of his own most solemnly-cherished purposes. He raised his hands to claim silence once more, then his voice. But his efforts were vain. He had roused a new uproar, which, though a joyous one, was universal, and more difficult to allay. Threats to fly might be toned down by some tinge of shame, but offers and entreaties to be allowed to fight needed no restraint. The cry rang on and on unceasingly:

"To Mexico! Lead on to Mexico!"

"To Mexico indeed! To the depths of the sea with you rather, squalling rabble that ye are," said Cortes at last impatiently. Turning to the group of officers about him he added in comic despair: "Can no one befriend me thus far?"

"How far?" asked Alvarado and Escalante together, and with some wonder.

"How far!" repeated the Captain in a tone of increasing irritation. "Why, to the extent of ramming something down those screaming throats, to stop this Babel, to be sure."

Juan de Cabrera gave a delighted leap.

"I have it. I'll set the dogs barking; that will drown them."

"Ay, and thy Captain also," ejaculated Cortes, breaking into a short laugh in spite of himself. "Wilt thou never outgrow thy boyhood, thou madcap Juan? Thinkest thou--"

But his remonstrance died away on his lips, and they curved into an awe-struck smile. From a few feet behind him there arose the first notes of a solemn chant--loud and strong as a battle-cry, sweet as the tones of a silver bell.

Alone and unaided the glorious voice sang on for a few moments, and then Father Olmedo's rich bass joined in, and Pedro de Alvarado's, then the light tenors of Escalante and Cabrera, and the ringing voice of Gonzalo de Sandoval.

For the space, perhaps, of a quarter of a minute the shouting soldiers continued their cry through the chant, "To Mexico! to Mexico!" then, with a startled sensation of thrilling wonder, the foremost ranks caught the sweeter sounds, hushed their own discordant tones, paused, and joined in.

"Hearken!" came the smothered ejaculation of the man Morla to Juan Diaz, who had just come up to him. And Juan the priest gazed at him with wide eyes, and then, accepting this new vent for his restlessness, he too joined in with a tremendous vigour that soon let all ears, that were not absolutely deaf, in the neighbourhood know what was going forward.

By some unconscious impulse the rough company of Spanish adventurers fell upon their knees, and still the solemn chant rose and fell, and swelled again, on that new-found western shore of an idolatrous land, to the glory of the one true God.

Cortes alone remained standing, alone remained mute, with his great, vivacious eyes fixed intently upon the great, earnest ones of Montoro de Diego. By his own fearlessness and iron will he had quelled the mutinous mob, by the power of his voice and the power of his faith Montoro de Diego had subdued it to a noble calm and peace.

The chant ceased; the prayer of Father Olmedo for safety from foes, and unity amongst themselves, was ended, and rising to his feet again Montoro asked in clear, loud tones, audible to all around--

"And now, our Captain, since we have consecrated ourselves anew to brotherhood, what wouldst thou with us? Say on: we hearken."

"Then hear this, first of all," exclaimed the leader with generous warmth, as he grasped his friend's hand, and clasped it between both his own. "Hear this: that from my soul I thank thee for thy Christlike fervour, which has thus taught thee to retune our hearts to reason after their late frantic turmoil. And for the rest," he added after a moment's interval, and more lightly, "Ay, for the rest, the remainder of my speech must wait, for it is ill-rewarded toil haranguing hungry listeners."

"Yea, verily," softly assented that irrepressible Cabrera. "And the more so when the said hungry mortals, not to speak of the dogs, poor starving brutes, can see their victuals waiting for their mouths."

The young cavalier was right, and many other sharp eyes besides his own had caught sight already of the long train of Indians laden with provisions. Pheasants, turkeys, roast and boiled, and very good eating in their native land, even though they were not accompanied with bread-sauce, and were seasoned with neither chestnuts nor veal-stuffing. There were, however, plenty of fresh, sweet maize cakes to eat with them, and enough vegetables to satisfy even a German. Then, amongst the seasonable gifts were fish of all kinds, dressed by those clever native cooks in many savoury ways; plantains, bananas, pine-apples, purple grapes, and even sweet-meats of various sorts made with the sugar of the agave. Beverages also were not wanting, from the thick-frothed, rich, vanilla-flavoured chocolate and cooling fruit-drinks, to the fermented juice of the Mexican aloe, the intoxicating _pulque_.

Altogether the 'victuals awaiting mouths,' as Cabrera expressed it, to put it more in accordance with circumstances, the feast awaiting feasters, was of such quality and quantity as to make it quite as well, perhaps, that Hernando Cortes decided to dispense with his followers' attention for the present.

"To claim a patient hearing for a discourse, while those savoury meats were cooling, really might prove too much for the forbearance of even our good Father Olmedo himself," said Cortes smiling, as he linked his arm within that of the priest, and led him off with him as a companion at the dinner then being carried to his hut.

"'Twould be a deal too much for mine," said Alvarado, moving off in another direction with his friends. "Here, thou Morla,--thou'rt a good hand at looking after fowls, thou know'st,--just hasten yonder and pick us out the plumpest and the fairest-cooked of those good-eating great birds yonder, and thy good patron here, Don Montoro, will give thee due thanks."

"For thy sake, Alvarado, or mine own?" asked Montoro, laughing.

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll not quarrel with thee, my dear Toro, on that point, since thou art very sure to permit me the lion's share of food as the reward of victory, whether won or no."

"Of course he will," broke in Juan de Cabrera, "seeing that for himself he will henceforth live upon an elegant but unsubstantial dietary of air."

"Wherefore?"

"For this simple reason, that time will be wanting to him for any more substantial meal. From this hour henceforth, even to the ending of this campaign, I do authorize, empower, and appoint him to be chief minstrel, on duty unrelieved, to the high and mighty Hernando Cortes, Captain-General and Chief Justice of the magnificent Villa Rica de Vera Cruz. The appointment is splendid, though somewhat empty of--"

"Like thy words--of wit," interrupted Alvarado. "Come, crackbrain, I will allow thee almost as good a share as myself of the viands Morla brings, to silence thy mouth for awhile, for verily thou art the prince of sparrows for a chatterer."

"And also a black-crested cockatoo! Ah! I always did suppose myself a marvel, now I know it."

And so laughing off the emotions produced by the recent great crisis in the fate of their leader and his enterprise, the party of Spanish officers sauntered off to their quarters, and were very soon pleasantly engaged in doing ample justice to the good cheer provided so hospitably by those whom they designated as 'their foes.'