begin to press round him, and even in his rear, separating him from the men.22 The next moment more than one pair of arms had coiled round his body, and, with triumphant shouts of “Malinche! Malinche!” they seek to drag him into the water to the canoes. Alarmed by the outcry, his body-soldier, Cristóbal de Olea, hastens to his side, and with a sabre-blow severs the arm which was well nigh pulling over the bent form of his master. The next instant he himself falls beneath the furious onslaught roused by the magnitude of the prize, “a glorious death in so good a cause!” exclaims Herrera. Another soldier, named Lerma, rushes to the spot and is nearly overpowered; while a stout Tlascaltec, Temacatzin, plants himself in front of the leader, half prostrate with exhaustion and wounds, and wards off the blows till Antonio de Quiñones, captain of the guard, manages to force his way forward and sustains him, followed by a number of men whom the report of their general’s danger has stirred to fierceness.23 “Away from here, your worship, and save your person,” cries the captain, “for without you all will be lost!” Cortés refuses, “for I desired rather death than life,” he writes; but finally by dint of pleading and main force he is induced slowly to retire, seeking to cover the rear of the fleeing. And well it was, for a longer stay would have proved fatal. But for the eagerness of the Mexicans to secure as prisoner so magnificent a prize, they could easily have despatched him. Aztecs made it a point to obtain as many prisoners as possible, particularly chiefs and nobles, and white men, who ranked even above these, in order to do honor to the war-god. This effort was prompted by a deep religious obligation as well as by warrior spirit.
Not far from the disastrous channel a horse was brought, upon which Cortés was mounted, though wounded in the leg. Shortly before, his