twelve feet wide, and at least as many deep, full of water, for it
connected two canals. A feeble attempt had been made to fill this up
with beams and rubbish, but it had been left before any good had been
done. Worse than all Cortes saw that this breach was freshly made, and
that his officers had probably rushed headlong into a snare laid by the
enemy. Before his men could do anything towards filling up the trench,
the distant sounds of the battle changed into an ever-increasing tumult,
the mingled yells and war cries, and the trampling of many feet grew
nearer, and at last, to his horror, Cortes beheld his men driven to the
edge of the fatal gulf, confused, helpless, surrounded by their foes.
The foremost files were soon hurried over the edge, some trying to swim
across, some beaten down by the struggles of their comrades, or pierced
by the darts of the Indians. In vain with outstretched hands did Cortes
try to rescue his soldiers from death, or worse still from capture; he
was soon recognised, and six of the enemy tried to seize and drag him
into a canoe. It was only after a severe struggle, in which he was
wounded in the leg, that he was rescued by his brave followers. Two were
killed in the attempt, while another was taken alive as he held the
general's horse for him to mount. In all, sixty Spaniards were captured
on this fatal day, and it was only when the rest reached their guns in
the open space before the causeway that they were able to rally and beat
back the Aztecs. The other division had fared equally ill, and were
moreover in great anxiety as to the fate of Cortes, who was reported to
have been killed. When they once more reached their quarters, Sandoval,
though badly wounded, rode into the camp of Cortes to learn the truth,
and had a long and earnest consultation with him over the disaster, and
what was next to be done. As he returned to his camp he was startled by
the sound of the great drum on the temple of the war-god, heard only
once before during the night of horror, and looking up he saw a long
file of priests and warriors, winding round the terraces of the
teocalli. As they came out upon the platform at the top he perceived,
with rage and despair, that his own countrymen were about to be
sacrificed with the usual ghastly ceremonies. The camp was near enough
to the city for the white skins of the victims and their unavailing
struggles to be distinctly seen by their comrades, who were nevertheless
powe