CHAPTER XI. THE SINKING OF THE FLEET. July-August, 1519.

If among the New World cavaliers such a thing as poltroon or coward could be, Diego Velazquez was that thing, notwithstanding he had participated in so much fighting. Yet I do not call him coward, for my pen refuses to couple such a term with that of sixteenth-century Spaniard. Certain it is, however, that few men in those days preferred conquering new lands by deputy to winning glory in person, and if this soldier and governor was not a coward, there was little of the manly or chivalrous in his bravery. He was cautious, yet frequently his cupidity overcame his caution; and when he adventured his gold—for he seldom risked his life, either for fame which he dearly loved, or for gold which he loved still dearer—it was under restrictions ruinous to almost any enterprise. In his ordinary mood he played fairly enough the statesman and hero, but in truth his statesmanship was superficial, and his heroism theatrical. Las Casas calls him a terrible fellow for those who served him, and Gomara says he had little stomach for