A STOLEN MARCH
of the captives. Impatient to be gone, the general at once embarked his men. They had, however, sailed but a few leagues ere a leak in one of the ships forced them to put back to their safe harbour in Cozumel. Just as they were once more on the point of embarking, a canoe, paddled with desperate speed by three or four natives, was seen crossing the strait. Directly it touched the shore a man, dark in colour as a native, leaped out calling wildly to the white men in a jargon, partly Spanish, partly Indian. About his shoulders and waist hung a few rags, and in a bundle on his back was the remnant of an old book of prayers. The soldiers, astonished and pitiful, led him at once to their general, whom he saluted in Indian fashion, making low obeisance and then touching the ground with his right hand and lifting it to his head. Raising the wretched man, Cortés covered him with his own yellow mantle lined with crimson, and welcomed him as a comrade, while officers and men gathered round to hear the rescued Christian's romantic story.
His name was Jeronimo de Aguilar, and for eight weary years he had been a captive. Wrecked on some sunken rocks, called the Vipers, he had been stranded with fifteen companions on the coast of Yucatan. As they wandered famishing along the shore they were attacked and carried off by natives. Cooped up in a kind of pen they were at first well treated and remarkably well fed, but too soon did they learn the horrible reason for their bounteous repasts. They were being fattened for a cannibal feast! One night their captain and four other
