It was one of the darkest and most inhospitable nights imaginable. The swollen stream rushed along like a mountain torrent, and there was no way of crossing it except by fording. Cortes was the first to plunge in, and his men followed him with enthusiastic alacrity. The water was up to their necks, but all save two men safely reached the other side. The dripping soldiers formed in order and marched to Zempoala in death-like stillness, each carrying a sword, a dagger, and a long Indian spear. The spear was for use against the enemy’s cavalry. Cortes’ conjectures were confirmed. Narvaez was so unconcerned that he had placed only two sentinels on guard. One of these was surprised and taken prisoner, the other escaped and fled to the city in a panic of fear to give the alarm. Narvaez’ contempt for his enemy was so great that he declared the sentinel had been dreaming and that it was ridiculous to imagine that Cortes would dare to attack him voluntarily with a handful of men.
Suddenly he heard the battle cry as Cortes and his men hurled themselves upon the city like a thunderstorm, terror following in their wake. Too late Narvaez realized his foolish error, but he hastened as fast as he could to rally his men. He and his troops were quartered in and around a great temple which the enemy stormed so quickly and irresistibly that only a single cannon could be used against them. Sandoval, who commanded the advance, captured the cannon and drove the enemy helter-skelter up the temple steps. The struggle was a desperate one. Narvaez, who was in the temple, sought to rally his men and inspire them with the example of his own courage, but Sandoval continued driving them before him. Olid supported him, and Cortes, who forgot for the moment that he was the commander, sprang to the front and inspired his men with his own daring. A soldier in Cortes’ troops suddenly discovered that fire had broken out among the reeds on the roof of the temple. The building was immediately in flames and Narvaez found himself forced to leave. He strove at the head of his men to make his way out, but a spear was thrust in his eye and he fell. Sandoval seized him, dragged him down the stairs quickly, bound him, and bore him to a place of safety in the rear. The victors raised a triumphant shout, and the enemy, now without a leader, became so panic-stricken that their resistance grew weaker and weaker. A general holocaust would have been inevitable had not Cortes offered pardon to all who should come out and surrender. Narvaez’ men had seen a countless number of little flickering lights in the darkness of the night, which resembled matches, and which led them to believe Cortes had a large force of arquebusiers posted in the thickets, for fire-arms at that time were always discharged by matches. This fancy—for these lights were made by glow-worms—increased the alarm of the enemy, and at last no further resistance was made.