University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

As Guatimozin had confessed to Juan Lerma,
the three suburbs of the causeways were already
demolished, and their ruined walls, battered by
cannon and blackened by smoke, peered over the
lake, along the causeways, in melancholy ruins.
The hand of desolation had extended still further;
at least, in the quarter that was pierced by the dike
of Iztapalapan. Here Cortes commanding in person,
and fighting every day at the head of his
army, he had infected the whole division with a
share of his own energy. While Alvarado and
Sandoval were contending for a foothold on the
very borders of the city, he had already penetrated
it to the distance of half a mile, destroying many
houses, though without being able to effect a secure
and permanent lodgment upon any portion of the
island.

It must not be supposed, that, having reached
the island, the Spaniards could exchange the narrow
and ditched causeways for firm and spacious
streets. On the contrary, the causeways, so to
speak, were continued up to within half a mile of
the principal square which was in the very centre
of the city, and contained the great pyramid, as
well as the chief temples of Mexico. On either side
was a canal both broad and deep, dividing the road
from the houses; and others, running from intersecting
streets, perforated the causeways with
chasms, the number of which the Mexicans had

long since greatly increased. The island, which
was circular, did not exceed three miles in diameter,
of which the central third only was dry and
solid. Hence the advanced posts of the three divisions
were at no considerable distance from each
other; and if the call of Cortes in the morning was
not absolutely heard and answered by his two
lieutenants, the bugles of each could be easily distinguished,
cheering one another as they advanced
to the daily assault.

The labour of Cortes in destroying the suburb
in his quarter, was less than that of the others; for
here, the lake being deeper, the houses extended
but a short distance from the island. His advanced
post was almost within the limits of the suburb,
and separated from the island by only one ditch,
which he had twice or thrice taken and filled up, but
was as often obliged to yield again to the foe, subduing
his impatience, until his lieutenants had advanced
equally far in their quarters.

The outposts were always guarded with the
most jealous vigilance, particularly in the later
hours of the night, after the rains, which, in this
climate, commonly prevail with the greatest violence
between the hours of noon and midnight. A
guard of forty men, with two pieces of artillery,
kept watch until midnight; when, yielding their
places to forty more, but not retiring, they threw
themselves to sleep upon the damp stones and
clay. Two hours before dawn, the post was
strengthened by another company of forty, who
watched until morning, the others flinging themselves
in their cloaks among the first watchmen.
Thus, there were ready, before day, one hundred
and twenty men, the strongest and boldest of their
divisions, who, in case of sudden attack, could preserve
the station, until reinforced by the whole
strength of the division, from the towers of the

gates, which were still the head-quarters of the
several divisions. The causeway between the
gates and the pickets, was occupied by patrols of
horsemen, who watched lest the enemy, coming in
canoes, should make a descent behind the advanced
post, and thus cut it off.

Two hours after midnight, upon the night in
which Juan revealed his purpose of escaping, the
second guard on the causeway of Iztapalapan was
relieved from watch by the coming of the third; and
the soldiers flung themselves, as usual, upon the
earth, to prepare for a morning, which, it was known
to all, was to witness a general assault, made simultaneously
by all the divisions, from their three
several quarters.

The watchfires were replenished, and two subalterns,
the leaders of the party, advanced a little
beyond them, to reconnoitre the condition of the
enemy. Three hundred paces in front, the causeway
was intersected by the ditch; held by the
Mexicans; and beyond it, on a strong rampart,
blazed a great fire, in the light of which the pagan
sentinels could be seen, squatting upon the mound,
or stalking idly about. The gap was bridgeless,
as was well known; but this the Spaniards could
not observe with their own eyes, not thinking it
prudent to advance within the range of a Mexican
arrow.

As they returned, they conversed together in
low voices; and it was worthy of remark, as indicating
how little their spirits were occupied by
the dangers around them, that they bestowed more
words upon the ordinary scandal of the camp than
upon the horrible conflicts through which they had
passed, or in which they were yet to mingle.

“They lay this thing of Camarga entirely to the
door of Guzman,” said one; “and, in my mind, the
imputation were reasonable, could we discover any

cause for enmity between them. They say, that
Guzman smothered him with pillows of cottontreedown.
Wherefore—”

“Pho, Najara,” said the other, bluffly; “blame
not a man upon these vain fancies; for Camarga
was killed by a hard weapon, and by no pillows of
cotton-down or feathers. I found him myself.”

“Ay,” said Najara, for it was the hunchback,
whose companion was no other than the worthy historian,
Bernal Diaz del Castillo,—“Ay, señor amigo,
but he was not dead; and we are speaking of
two very different events: to make which palpable
to thy historical wits, we must e'en go back to the
starting point. It is with a man of ill mind as with
a cannonier; who, if he look for the mark of his
ball in a forest, must go back to the place whence
he shot it, and take the range over again.”

“I do not understand thy trope,” said Bernal,
“nor what thou meanest by an `ill mind,' not having
one myself, but one that harbours animosities
against none but Indians. As for Camarga, I found
him myself. It was when we marched out of Tezcuco,
by the northern road; for I was then with Alvarado,
going to Tacuba. I say it, and it is to my
honour, not shame, that Cortes, when he left the
brigantines, demanded me of Alvarado; `for,' said
he, `Bernal Diaz is one of my best friends, and a
soldier second to none:' which is true, though I say
it myself. De Olid was with us, with his men. The
story is this: When we passed by the cypress-tree
on the hill, I bethought me of a chapter of my book,
which I had lost, I knew not where nor when.
`Now,' said I, `perhaps I left it under this tree;'
for what with the sudden coming of Juan Lerma,
poor fellow, and the quarrel I had with Gaspar on
his account, I departed from that place, without
much thought of what might be left behind me. But
pondering on this, as we passed, I dropped from

the ranks, and hunting about, I saw Camarga lying
mangled at the bottom of the hill; and when we
came to examine him, it was plain he had been
strugglingthere for many hours,—perhaps, all night.
We thought he was dead; but Juan Catalan, the
cannonier, who is so good at a fresh wound, said,
his heart was yet beating, and he might live. So
we sent him back to Tezcuco, then in charge of
Guzman, that the Indian doctors might see what
could be done for him. And there he died.”

“Ay, if we can believe Guzman,” said Najara;
“and no doubt, he did: but how? Know now, Bernal,
for thou art too innocent to look further than
thy nose, that this man's death has made a great
noise at head-quarters; for, somehow, they have
come to associate it with the marvellous disappearance
of La Monjonaza; for which there are but two
ways of accounting.”

“As how?” said Bernal, gravely. `Gil Ortaga
told me, he saw her ghost, six nights after, in Iztapalapan,
dragging the spirit of Villafana by the hair;
which frightened him very much.”

“The first thought,” said Najara, “is, that she
drowned herself for the love of Juan Lerma, of
which—that is, of her love, at least—there is some
proof that might be mentioned, were there any wisdom
in speaking it; and the second, that Guzman
hid her in some den about Tezcuco, trusting to the
departure of Cortes on the morrow. It is well
known that Guzman will play rival with the devil
himself, if he have taken a fancy to a woman.”

“Fu,” said Bernal, “that is a foolish thought.”

“Dost thou not know,” demanded the hunchback,
“that he is in disgrace, for acts still darker
than these? He abused the Indians in the palace,
robbing them of their gold and women, at his will,
and greatly incensed the young king Ixtlilxochitl,

who complained to Cortes. Cortes sailed to Tezcuco
in person, and removed him from his government;
and now he is in such disgrace, that were it
not for some old friendship between him and the
Captain-General, it is thought, Cortes would utterly
renounce him. The Indians say, that he murdered
Camarga, when the poor man was recovering.
But this is improbable. Camarga was a
stranger, and without foes. Yet his fate has greatly
troubled the general. As for the lady Infeliz, Don
Francisco persists in averring that he knows nothing
about her. He brought a Tlascalan, who
swore he saw both her and Camarga walk out from
the northern gate together, during the review;
whereby he would have us believe they fell into
the hands of the Mexicans; but Indians will swear
anything, if you tell them how. It is said, that Guzman
has got permission to serve in the fleet with
Garci Holguin, his old friend. They are two daredevils
together, and neither in very good odour;
so they will doubtless do some desperate act to regain
favour.—Hark, Bernal! dost thou hear nothing?”

“Nothing but the whistling of the Indians at the
fire;—for that is the way they make their signals.
We shall have hot work to-morrow, Najara.”—

“Hark!—Ah, 'tis the sound of oars! One of the
night-ships is approaching the dike. What's i' the
wind now?—Hah, sirrah! what brings thee out of
limits?”

These words were directed to a tall man, cloaked
to the eyes, whom they had not before noticed, who
stood hard by, peering into the lake, as if he sought
to discover the approaching vessel. Najara hobbled
up to him, in no little dudgeon, and repeated the
question, before the stranger deigned to answer
him. He then turned, and replied, with great
coolness,

“Curiosity, crookback, curiosity,—some little
itching to know how thou and thy brother ass,
Bernal Diaz, discourse of thy betters. Well,
rogues, have you done? have you despatched mine
honour twice over again? I am not in good odour,
hah? I have murdered Camarga, and suborned
Indians to invent fables of La Monjonaza? Out
upon ye, fools! I thought thou wert not so sodden-brained,
Najara!”

As if his voice were not enough to make him
known, the cavalier removed the cloak from his
visage, and exhibited the iron features of Don
Francisco de Guzman, illuminated by the watchfire
hard by. There was something about his countenance
unusually dark and fierce; yet he did not
speak angrily, although Najara perceived he must
have overheard some of his concluding expressions.
But Najara was not a man to be daunted even by
a stronger arm and a sterner eye. He replied
therefore, with composure,

“What we have said, señor Don Francisco,
we have said, and may take the same liberty again.
But under your favour, señor, I am, just now, the
captain of the guard; and as I cannot number you
among my company, I must e'en make bold to ask
your will, as well as your business, here, in advance
of the post?”

“Thou shalt ask, and be answered,” said Guzman,
clapping his fingers to his lips, and whistling
with a strength that might have done honour to
the neighbouring infidels, though in a manner differing
entirely from any of their signals. “One,
two,—three,—and too-whit! too-whit! like a hungry
kite in the morning! Dost thou understand
that, mi Corcobado? If thou dost not, then poco á
poco, y paciencia, as we say after dinner; for presently
thou shalt be made wiser. After which, get
thee to thy dogs there, in the mud, and snore with

them.—Ah, amigo y hermano! Garci, mi corazoncito!
I will know thy pipe among a thousand, for
it whistles out of the nose, like the hiss of a serpent!—Fare
ye well, patches; and heaven send ye
a rough rouse in the morning.”

While the cavalier was yet speaking, a little boat
from the brigantine, the heavy oars of which they
had long since heard, though they could scarce
trace it in the gloom, shot against the causeway;
and an officer of a powerful frame and forbidding
aspect, just rendered visible by the fire, rising up,
extended his hand to Guzman, who immediately
jumped aboard, and took a seat at his side. It was
then pushed off, and soon vanished on the lake.

“There they go,” said Najara, not without admiration,
“two imps after the devil's own liking,
strong-handed, tough-headed, hard-hearted! Wo
betide ye, brown lambkins of Mexico! for these
wolves have scented a hole in your pinfold. I tell
thee, Bernal, man, we shall have rare work to-morrow,
and these men will make it rarer. When the
gall comes from Guzman's lips, the devil is
waked up in his liver. `A rough rouse in the
morning!' For thy good wish, mayst thou have as
rugged a couch in the evening—Amen! for I love
thee not.”