Before the review, Cortés addressed his soldiers in a speech as shrewd and stirring as that of Marcius at Corioli. Pointing to the thousands of unbaptized, he awakened their religious zeal; dwelling on the grandeur of the undertaking, he stimulated their ambition; referring to the vast wealth these lands contained, he excited their cupidity. Greater and richer lands than all the Spanish kingdoms, he called them, and inhabited by strange races, only awaiting submission to their invincible arms. Their whole fortune was invested in the fleet that carried them; but who would regret so trifling an expenditure when compared with the glorious results to follow? They were setting out upon a career of conquest in the name of their God, who had always befriended the Spanish nation; and in the name of their emperor, for whom they would achieve greater deeds than any ever performed. Riches lay spread before them; but like good and brave men they must look with him to the higher and nobler reward of glory. “Nevertheless,” he archly added, “be true to me, as am I to you, and ere long I will load you with wealth such as you have never dreamed of. I will not say it is to be won without hardships; but who of you are afraid? We are few, but we are brave. Let us therefore on with the work so well begun, joyously and confidently to the end!”24 There is no passion so artful as avarice in hiding itself under some virtue. Sometimes it is progress, sometimes patriotism, but its warmest cloak has ever been religion. There is a double profit to the devotee whose religion gratifies his avarice, and whose avarice is made a part of his religion.
On the morning of February 18th mass was said, the
campaign standard blessed, and Saint Peter invoked, whereupon the prows were pointed toward the islands of the west. All the vessels were to follow the flagship, whose light should be their guide by night; in case of separation they were to steer for Cape Catoche and thence proceed to Cozumel.25