The messengers for Spain had scarcely left the port before these malcontents form a plot, this time not with the sole desire to return to a more comfortable and secure life, but with a view to advise Velazquez of the treasure ship so close at hand. Amongst them are to be found the priest Juan Diaz; Juan Escudero, the alguacil of Baracoa, who beguiled and surrendered Cortés into the hands of the authorities; Diego Cermeño and Gonzalo de Umbría, pilots; Bernardino de Coria, and Alonso Peñate, beside several leading men who merely countenanced the plot.1 They have already secured a small vessel with the necessary supplies, and the night of embarkment is at hand, when Coria repents and betrays his companions.
Cortés is profoundly moved. It is not so much the hot indignation that stirs his breast against the traitors as the light from afar that seems to float in upon his mind like an inspiration, showing him more vividly than he had ever seen it before, his situation. So lately a lax and frivolous youth, apparently of inept nature, wrought to stiffer consistency by some years of New World kneading, by a stroke of the rarest fortune he suddenly finds himself a commander of men, in a virgin field of enterprise fascinating beyond expression, and offering to the soldier possibilities excelled by nothing within the century. As the mind enlarges to take in these possibilities, the whole being seems to enlarge with it, the unstable adventurer is a thing of the past, and behold a mighty rock fills the place. Against it heads shall beat unprofitably. The momentous question of to be or not to be is forever determined; it is an affair simply of life now. Life and the power of which he finds himself possessed shall rise or fall together; and if his life, then the lives of others. No life shall be more precious to him than his own; no life shall be accounted precious at all that stands in the way of his plans. To a lady who complained of the burning of the Palatinate by Turenne, Napoleon answered: “And why not, madame, if it was necessary to his designs?” The Palatinate! ay, and a hundred million souls flung into the same fire,