Sandoval, one of his bravest and most trusty officers, who led the van, with a few other cavaliers as bold as himself, resolved to push forward at any personal hazard, rather than stand still to perish in one confused mass, dashed their steeds into the water, and made for the other side of the gap. Some succeeded in effecting a landing, while others, with their horses, perished in the attempt, or fell into the hands of the watchful boatmen. The first movement being thus made, an impetus was given to the moving column from behind, that drove the front ranks, _nolens volens_, into the breach. By far the greater part sank to rise no more, or were picked up by the Aztecs, and hurried away to a far more terrible death. At length the breach was filled up by the bodies of the dead, and the baggage and artillery which occupied the centre, so that the rear had a clear passage over the fatal chasm. A second and a third breach was yet to be passed. It was accomplished as before, only by making a bridge of the bodies of one half, for the other half to walk upon. Meanwhile the enemy hung upon flank and rear, with unappeasable rage, striking down and picking up vast numbers of victims, until, when the last breach was cleared, and a footing gained upon terra-firma, there was scarce a remnant left of the gallant band that entered upon that fatal causeway. The iron-hearted Cortez was so overcome with the sight of his shattered band, and the absence of so many brave comrades, when the morning light appeared, that he sat down upon a rock that overlooked the scene of desolation, and gave vent to his emotions in a flood of tears. Had the Mexicans followed up this success by falling upon the broken dispirited remnant of the Castilian army, they would probably have vanquished and destroyed them to a man. They were suffered, however, to proceed unmolested for several days, until their strength and spirits were somewhat recruited. Then, though attacked by immensely superior numbers, they succeeded in putting them to rout.