became the wonder and admiration of the world. Destroy the ships! Cut off all escape, should such be needed in case of failure! Burn the bridge that spans time, and bring to his desperate desire the aid of the eternities! The thought of it alone was daring; more fearfully fascinating it became as Cortés dashed along toward Cempoala, and by the time he had reached his destination the thing was determined, and he might with Cæsar at the Rubicon exclaim, Jacta est alea! But what would his soldiers say? They must be made to feel as he feels, to see with his eyes, and to swell with his ambition.
The confession of the conspirators opened the eyes of Cortés to a fact which surely he had seen often enough before, though by reason of his generous nature which forgot an injury immediately it was forgiven, it had not been much in his mind of late, namely, that too many of his companions were lukewarm, if not openly disaffected. They could not forget that Cortés was a common man like themselves, their superior in name only, and placed over them for the accomplishment of this single purpose. They felt they had a right to say whether they would remain and take the desperate chance their leader seemed determined on, and to act on that right with or without his consent. And their position assuredly was sound; whether it was sensible depended greatly on their ability to sustain themselves in it. Cortés was exercising the arbitrary power of a majority to drive the minority as it appeared to their death. They had a perfect right to rebel; they had not entered the service under any such compact. Cortés himself was a rebel; hence the rebellion of the Velazquez men, being a rebelling against a rebel, was in truth an adherence to loyalty. Here as everywhere it was might that made right; and, indeed, with the right of these matters the narrator has little to do.
Success, shame, fear, bright prospects, had all lent their aid to hold the discontented in check, but in
