CHAPTER XXXI.
THE RETREAT FROM TENOCHTITLAN
The way of escape was partially prepared by the filling up of thecanals, but who could tell how long it would remain so? At any momentthe forces guarding these all-important points might be overcome ordriven back and the canals reopened. It was therefore decided, at acouncil of officers convened late on that fourth day of fighting,that the retreat should be undertaken that very night. Now began busypreparations for evacuating the palace-fortress occupied by the whiteconquerors for so many months. Litters for the transportation of thewounded were hastily constructed, and Huetzin was called upon to detaila body of warriors to carry and guard these helpless ones. The richbooty of the conquest was drawn from its hiding-places, and much ofthe gold was packed in stout bags for transportation on horse-back.Still a large portion of it must necessarily be abandoned. As it lay,scattered in shining heaps about the floor, the soldiers looked at itwith longing eyes. It seemed to them that the wealth of the New Worldlay at their feet, waiting to be picked up.
"Take what you will of it!" exclaimed the commander, reading theirthoughts in their faces, "but be careful not to overload yourselves.Remember that he travels best, who travels lightest."
With this permission the troops rushed at the glittering spoil likefamishing men upon food, while the grim Tlascalans, indifferent towealth of this description, watched the avaricious scramble withunconcealed contempt. The men of Narvaez, who had heard so muchconcerning Mexican gold without having thus far acquired any of it,greedily loaded themselves with as much as they could possibly carry,but the veteran followers of Cortes, taking heed to their leader'scounsel, helped themselves sparingly, each selecting only a few objectsof the greatest value. As for the piles of rich fabrics, jewel-studdedweapons, feather mantles of inestimable value, delicate ware, andcostly and curious articles of every description, the greater part ofthem was abandoned with hardly a regret, in the all-absorbing eagernessto escape from that sorrowful prison-house.
While these scenes were being enacted in one part of the palace, aparty of workmen was busily engaged in another, constructing a stoutportable-bridge. Although the canals intersecting the city streets hadbeen so filled that they could be crossed, there still remained threethat cut the causeway of Tlacopan. From there, as well as from theothers, the bridges had been removed. As these three openings wereof the same size, each being thirty feet in width, a single portablebridge, that could be taken up from the first opening after the armyhad passed, and carried to the next was deemed sufficient. It wasplaced in charge of a trusty officer named Margarino, who was givenforty picked men, all pledged to defend it with their lives.
The night was intensely dark, and a drizzling rain fell steadily. Atmidnight all was in readiness for a start, and the great gate of thepalace-fortress was swung open for the last time. The order of marchhad been carefully planned beforehand, and, according to it, Sandoval,mounted on Motilla, and commanding the advance guard was the first toride forth. At his left hand rode the only mounted native of the NewWorld, Huetzin, the young Toltec; for besides a score of cavaliers, andtwo hundred foot soldiers, the advance contained two thousand Tlascalanwarriors. To these faithful mountaineers had been entrusted the objectdeemed most precious by the whole army, the covered litter in whichwas borne Marina, their well-loved interpreter. With the advance alsomarched Margarino and his forty men, bearing on their sturdy shouldersthe heavy timbers of the portable bridge upon which the salvation ofthe army depended.
In the centre, or main division, were the prisoners, among whom wereseveral of Montezuma's children, Cacama, Prince of Tezcuco, and anumber of Aztec nobles held as hostages, the treasure, the baggage, thewounded, and the heavy guns. These were guarded by the veterans who hadbeen with Cortes from the first, and a strong force of Tlascalans.
As these slowly defiled into the great square they were followed bythe rear guard under command of Alvarado. It contained the bulk of theSpanish infantry who had been enlisted from the force of Narvaez, and abattery of light artillery in charge of Mesa and his well-tried gunners.
When the last man had passed through the gateway, the commander, whohad waited motionless on his gray steed to assure himself that nostragglers were left behind, roused, as from a deep revery, gave aparting glance at the quarters that had been the scene of so stirring achapter of his life's history, clapped spurs to his horse, and dasheddown the long black line of his retreating army.
Although every precaution was taken to move silently, the passage of solarge a body of troops through paved streets, could not be accomplishedwithout noise. To the strained ears of the fugitives, expecting eachmoment to hear the exulting war-cries of their enemies, or to see theirdark masses rushing from every cross street and alley, the heavy rumbleof their own artillery, the sharp ring of iron-shod hoofs, the measuredtramp of infantry, and the unavoidable rattle of weapons, seemed tocreate a volume of sound that must be heard in the remotest quartersof Tenochtitlan. Still the battle-wearied city slept on, nor did itbetray, by a sign, its consciousness that the prey, it had deemed sosurely its own, was slipping from its grasp.
On through the blackness, shrouding the long avenue of Tlacopan, movedthe retreat. Here they stumbled over the corpse of some dead Aztec,there they could distinguish the dark heaps of slain marking somefiercely contested point of the recent fighting. To their excitedimaginations it seemed as though these must rise up and betray them.The shadowy ruins of fire-scathed buildings seemed again peopled withflitting forms, and, as they crossed one after another of the canals,the ebon water seemed alive with swarming paddles. But they passed onas unmolested by the living as by the dead, until at length a lighterspace between the buildings in front of them announced to the van-guardthat the causeway was at hand. As they drew aside to allow the men ofMargarino room in which to advance and place their bridge, they feltthat the worst of the perilous retreat was over, and could hardlyrestrain the shouts that would have proclaimed their joy.
Suddenly a shrill cry, chilling the blood in their veins, rose fromclose beside them. There was a sound of flying footsteps, and thealarm was echoing and re-echoing through the wind-swept streets withan ever-increasing clamor. The priests, watching their fires on topof tall teocals, caught the cry of the flying sentinels and spreadthe alarm with sounding blasts upon their conch-shells. Now, from thedesolated heights of Huitzil's temple, the solemn booming of the greatserpent drum, only sounded in times of gravest moment, vibrated throughthe remotest comers of the city and far out over the waters surroundingit. Red beacon flames sprang from the top of every temple, warning thewhole valley that the time of the crisis had come.
"Tlacopan! Tlacopan!" was shouted in frenzied tones through everystreet and into every house of the sleeping city, and this single wordnamed the rallying point.
With desperate haste Margarino and his men laid their bridge. No longerwas there need of silence or concealment. Flight, instant and rapid,was the sole animating thought of the whole army. Sandoval, on prancingMotilla, was the first to test its strength, and after him streamed theeager troops. To the vanguard hastening forward without opposition,safety still seemed within reach; but to the rear, impatiently awaitingthe movement of those before them, the night was filled with ominousrushings and sounds denoting the gathering of a mighty host. By thefitful glare of the lofty beacons, now streaming through the upperdarkness from all parts of the city, they caught glimpses of hurryingforms and glintings of angry weapons. Mesa's grim gunners blew thematches, kept dry beneath their cloaks, into brighter flame andchuckled hoarsely as they thought of the havoc their falconets wouldmake when once turned loose.
The advanced guard had crossed the bridge and the dense squadrons ofthe centre, with the heavy guns, ammunition wagons, baggage, treasure,prisoners, and wounded, were passing it when the storm broke. First afew stones and arrows rattled on the mail of the cavaliers, or prickedthe naked Tlascalans. Then the dark waters of the lake were smittenby the dip of ten thousand angry paddles, as though b
y the fiercebreath of a whirlwind. The sprinkle of stones and arrows increased to atempest of hissing missiles. The dark lines of on-rushing canoes dashedagainst the very rocks of the causeway, while their occupants, leapingout, threw themselves, with reckless ferocity, upon the retreatingtroops. The shrieks of wounded and dying men began to rise from thehurrying column and the despairing cries of others, overthrown anddragged to the canoes. Above all and drowning all, rose the shrill,exultant yell of "Tlacopan! Tlacopan!" made, for the time being, theAztec war-cry and taken up by a myriad of fresh voices with eachpassing minute.
From the distant rear came the roar of Mesa's guns. There the cowardlyenemy will be checked at any rate! But they are not. No longer dobelching cannon nor levelled lances possess any terror for those whomthe war-like Cuitlahua leads to battle.
As hundreds were mowed down by the storm of iron balls, thousandsleaped into their places. So irresistibly furious was the Aztec advancethat ere the deadly falconets could be reloaded, Mesa, his men, and hisguns, were overwhelmed, and swept out of sight, as though beneath theoverpowering mass of an alpine avalanche. Alvarado and his handful ofcavaliers, who had charged again and again into the fiercely swellingtide of foemen, supporting the guns as long as any were left, nowturned, and fled across the narrow bridge.
While these events were taking place with frightful rapidity in therear, the advance had reached, and were halted by, the second openingin the causeway. Galled by the incessant attacks of their swarmingadversaries, and with their own swords rendered well-nigh useless bythe cramped space into which they were crowded, these sent back messageafter message imploring Margarino to hasten forward with the bridge.But the bridge would never be brought forward. Its timbers had becomeso wedged among the stones of the causeway, by the weight of ponderousguns and mail-clad troops, that not all the efforts of Margarino'ssturdy men could move them. Desperately they tugged and strained, butin vain. The bridge was as immovable as the causeway itself. Even asthey fulfilled their pledge never to move forward without the bridge,the exulting foe leaped upon them. For a few minutes there was a fierceconflict. Then the seething Aztec flood rolled on, sweeping overMargarino and his men, as it had over Mesa and his guns.