They then, with new zeal and
courage, entered their boats, and ascended the glassy, forest-fringed
stream, upon which the morning sun shone brightly. Bird-songs filled
the air, and hardly a breath of wind moved the leaves, glittering in
the brilliant sunlight, as these bronzed men of iron sinews moved
sternly on to the demoniac deeds of war. The natives, in preparation
for the conflict, had been all the night rallying their forces. The
shore was lined with their war-canoes, and the banks were covered with
Indian troops drawn up in martial array. Gorgeous plumes decorated
their persons, and the rays of the sun were reflected from their
polished weapons. As soon as the Spanish boats appeared, the vast army
of the natives raised shouts of defiance, and the ear was almost
deafened with the clangor of their trumpets and drums.

The battle soon commenced. The sky was almost darkened by the shower
of arrows thrown by those upon the land. The warriors in the canoes
fought fiercely with their javelins. The conflict was bloody, but
short. Native valor could avail but little against European discipline
and art. The spears, stones, and arrows of the natives fell almost
harmless upon the helmets and shields of the Spaniards; but the
bullets from the guns of the invaders swept like hail-stones through
the crowded ranks of the natives, unimpeded by their frail weapons of
defense. Cortez himself headed a charge which broke resistlessly into
the hostile ranks. Appalled by the terrific thunder and lightning of
the musketry, the Indians soon scattered and fled, leaving the ground
covered with their slain.

Cortez now reviewed his troops in triumph upon the shore. He found
that fourteen were wounded, but none slain. To attend to the wounded
and to rest his exhausted men, he again encamped. The bloodstained
banner of the cross, which they had so signally dishonored, floated
proudly over their intrenchments. Prayers were offered and mass
celebrated in honor of the victory achieved by Christian arms against
idolaters. The next morning the Spaniards marched unresisted to
Tabasco, the capital of the province, a large town upon the river,
but a few miles above the place where the invaders had effected a
landing. The inhabitants, men, women, and children, fled from the
place in dismay.

Cortez took possession of the town in the name of the King of Spain.
But the whole surrounding region was now aroused. The natives, in
numbers which could not