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the whole striking enterprise, the story of the seizure of the Inca of

Peru in the midst of his army and the tale of his incredible ransom.



Many and strange were the adventures of Pizarro, from the time when, with

one small vessel and about one hundred desperate followers, he sailed from

Panama in 1524, and ventured on the great unknown Pacific, to the time

when, in 1531, he sailed again with one hundred and eighty men and about

thirty horses and landed on the coast of Peru, which he designed to

conquer as Cortez had conquered Mexico. A faithless and cruel wretch was

this Francisco Pizarro, but he had the military merits of courage,

enterprise, daring and persistency, and these qualities carried him

through sufferings and adversities that would have discouraged almost any

man and brought him to magical success in the end. It was the beacon of

gold that lured him on through desperate enterprises and deadly perils and

led him to the El Dorado of the Spanish adventurers.



Landing and capturing a point on the coast of Peru, he marched with his

handful of bold followers, his horses and guns, eastward into the empire,

crossed the vast and difficult mountain wall of the Andes, and reached the

city of Caxamalca. Close by this city the Inca, Atahualpa, lay encamped

with an army, for a civil war between him and his brother Huascar had just

ended in the defeat and imprisonment of the latter.



Desperate was the situation of the small body of Spanish soldiers, when,

in the late afternoon of the 15th of November, 1532, they marched into

Caxamalca, which they found empty of inhabitants. About one hundred more

men, with arms and horses, had joined them, but in a military sense they

were but a handful still, and they had every reason to dread the

consequences of their rash enterprise.



All seemed threatening,--the desertion of the city by its people, the

presence of the Inca, with a powerful army, within a league's distance,

the probable hostility of the Indian emperor. All the Spaniards had to

rely on were their arms,--cannon, muskets and swords of steel,--new and

terrible weapons in that land, and their war-horses, whose evolutions had

elsewhere filled the soul of the Indian with dismay. Yet what were these

in the hands of less than three hundred men, in the presence of a strong

and victorious army? Filled with anxiety, Pizarro at once despatched a

body of horsemen, led by his brother Hernando and the famous cavalier

Hernando de Soto, to visit the Inca in his camp.



Great was the astonishment of the Indian soldiers as this strange

cavalcade, with clang of arms and blast of trumpet, swept by, man and

horse seeming like single beings to their unaccustomed eyes. De Soto, the

best mounted of them all, showed his command of his steed in the Inca's

presence, by riding furiously over the plain, wheeling in graceful curves,

and displaying all the vigor and beauty of skilled horsemanship, finally

checking the noble animal in full career when so near the Inca that some

of the foam from its lips was thrown on the royal garments. Yet, while

many of those near drew back in terror, Atahualpa maintained an

unflinching dignity and composure, hiding every show of dread, if any such

inspired him.



To the envoys he said, through an interpreter the Spaniards had brought,

"Tell your captain that I am keeping a fast, which will end to-morrow

morning. I will then visit him with my chieftains. Meanwhile, let him

occupy the public buildings on the square, and no other."



Refreshments were now offered the Spaniards, but these they declined, as

they did not wish to dismount. Yet they did not refuse to quaff the

sparkling drink offered them in golden vases of great size brought by

beautiful maidens. Then they rode slowly back, despondent at what they had

seen,--the haughty dignity of the Inca and the strength and discipline of

his army.



That night there were gloomy forebodings throughout the camp, which were

increased as its occupants saw the watch-fires of the Peruvian army,

glittering on the hill-sides, as one said, "as thick as the stars in

heaven." Scarcely a man among them except Pizarro retained his courage;

but he went round among his men, bidding them to keep up their spirits,

and saying that Providence would not desert them if they trusted to their

strength and their cause, as Christians against pagans. They were in

Heaven's service and God would aid them.



He then called a council of his officers and unfolded to them a desperate

plan he had conceived. This was no less than to lay an ambuscade for the

Inca and seize him in the face of his army, holding him as a hostage for

the safety of the Christians. Nothing less decisive than this would avail

them, he said. It was too late to retreat. At the first sign of such a

movement the army of the Inca would be upon them, and they would all be

destroyed, either there or in the intricacies of the mountain-passes. Nor

could they remain inactive where they were. The Inca was crafty and

hostile, and would soon surround them with a net-work of peril, from which

they could not escape. To fight him in the open field was hazardous, if

not hopeless. The only thing to do was to take him by surprise on his

visit the next day, drive back his followers with death and terror, seize

the monarch, and hold him prisoner. With the Inca in their hands his

followers would not dare attack them, and they would be practically

masters of the empire.



No doubt Pizarro in this plan had in mind that which Cortez had pursued in

Mexico. He would take care that Atahualpa should not be killed by his own

people, as Montezuma had been, and while the monarch remained alive they

would have the strongest guarantee of safety. This bold plan suited the

daring character of Pizarro's officers. They agreed with him that in

boldness lay their only hope of success or even of life, and they left the

council with renewed confidence to prepare for the desperate enterprise.



It was noon the next day before the Inca appeared, his litter borne on the

shoulders of his chief nobles and surrounded by others, so glittering with

ornaments that, to quote from one of the Spaniards, "they blazed like the

sun." A large number of workmen in front swept every particle of rubbish

from the road. Behind, and through the fields that lined the road, marched

a great body of armed men. But when within half a mile of the city the

procession halted, and a messenger was sent to the Spaniards to say that

the Inca would encamp there for that night and enter the city the

following morning.



These tidings filled Pizarro with dismay. His men had been under arms

since daybreak, the cavalry mounted, and the infantry and artillerymen at

their posts. He feared the effect on their spirits of a long and trying

suspense in such a critical situation, and sent word back to the Inca

begging him to come on, as he had everything ready for his entertainment

and expected to sup with him that night. This message turned the monarch

from his purpose, and he resumed his march, though the bulk of his army

was left behind, only a group of unarmed men accompanying him. He

evidently had no fear or suspicion of the Spaniards. Little did he know

them.



It was near the hour of sunset when the procession reached the city,

several thousand Indians marching into the great square, borne high above

whom was the Inca, seated in an open litter on a kind of throne made of

massive gold, while a collar of emeralds of great size and beauty

encircled his neck and his attire was rich and splendid. He looked around

him with surprise, as there was not a Spaniard to be seen, and asked, in

tones of annoyance, "Where are the strangers?"



At this moment Pizarro' s chaplain, a Dominican friar, came forward, with

Bible and crucifix in hand, and began to expound to him the Christian

doctrines, ending by asking him to acknowledge himself a vassal of the

king of Spain. The Inca, when by aid of the interpreter he had gained a

glimpse of the priest's meaning, answered him with high indignation, and

when the friar handed him the Bible as the authority for his words, he

flung it angrily to the earth, exclaiming,--



"Tell your comrades that they shall give me an account of their doings in

my land. I will not go from here till they have made me full satisfaction

for all the wrongs they have committed."



Picking up the sacred volume, the friar hastened to Pizarro, told him what

had been said, and cried out,--



"Do you not see that while we stand here wasting our breath in talking

with this dog, full of pride as he is, the fields are filling with

Indians? Set on, at once; I absolve you."



Pizarro waved a white scarf in the air, the signal agreed upon. A gun was

fired from the fortress. Then, with the Spanish war-cry of "St. Jago and

at them!" Pizarro and his followers sprang out into the square. From every

avenue of the great building they occupied poured armed men, horse and

foot, and rushed in warlike fury upon the Indians. Taken utterly by

surprise, the latter were hurled back in confusion. Their ranks rent by

the balls from cannon and musketry, hundreds of them trampled under foot

by the fierce charges of the cavalry, pierced by lances or cut down by

swords, they were driven resistlessly back, falling in multitudes as they

wildly sought to escape.



The massacre went on with especial intensity around the Inca, his nobles,

none of them armed, struggling with what strength they could in his

defence. "Let no one who values his life strike at the Inca!" shouted

Pizarro, fearing his valued prize might be slain in the wild tumult.

Fiercer still grew the struggle around him. The royal litter swayed back

and forth, and, as some of its bearers were slain, it was overturned, the

monarch being saved from a fall to the ground by Pizarro and some others,

who caught him in their arms. With all haste they bore him into the

fortress and put him under close guard.



With the capture of the Inca all resistance was at an end. The unarmed

Peruvians fled in terror from the fearful massacre. The soldiers in the

fields were seized with panic on hearing the fatal news, and dispersed in

all directions, pursued by the Spanish cavalry, who cut them down without

mercy. Not till night had fallen did Pizarro's men cease the pursuit and

return at the call of the trumpet to the bloody square of Caxamalca. In

that frightful massacre not less than two thousand victims, perhaps many

more, were slain, the most of them unarmed and helpless. That night

Pizarro kept his word, that he would sup with Atahualpa, but it was a

supper at which he might well have drunk blood. The banquet was served in

one of the halls facing the great square, then thickly paved with the

dead, the monarch, stunned by the calamity, sitting beside his captor at

the dread meal.



Let us now go forward to a still more spectacular scene in that strange

drama, one which proved that the Spaniards had truly at length reached the

"land of gold." The Inca was not long a prisoner before he discovered the

besetting passion of the Spaniards, their thirst for gold. A party was

sent to pillage his pleasure-house, and brought back a rich booty in gold

and silver, whose weight and value filled the conquerors with delight.



Thinking that he saw in this a hope of escaping from his captivity, the

Inca one day said to Pizarro that if he would agree to set him free, he

would cover the floor of the room in which they stood with gold. Pizarro

listened with a smile of doubt. As he made no answer, the Inca said,

earnestly, that "he would not merely cover the floor, but would fill the

room with gold as high as he could reach," and he stood on tiptoe as he

put his uplifted hand against the wall. This extraordinary offer filled

Pizarro with intense astonishment. That such a thing could be done seemed

utterly incredible, despite all they had learned of the riches of Peru.

The avaricious conqueror, dazzled by the munificent offer, hastened to

accept it, drawing a red line along the wall at the height the Inca had

touched. How remarkable the ransom was may be judged from the fact that

the room was about seventeen feet wide and twenty-two feet long and the

mark on the wall nine feet high. To add to its value, the Inca offered to

fill an adjoining but smaller room twice full with silver, and to do all

this in the short time of two months. It would seem that he would need

Aladdin's wonderful lamp to accomplish so vast and surprising a task.



As soon as the offer was made and accepted, the Inca sent messengers to

Cuzco, his capital city, and to the other principal places in his kingdom,

with orders to bring all the gold ornaments and utensils from his palaces

and from the temples and other public buildings, and transport them in all

haste to Caxamalca. While awaiting the golden spoil the monarch was

treated with the fullest respect due to his rank, having his own private

apartments and the society of his wives, while his nobles were permitted

to visit him freely. The only thing the Spaniards took good care of was

that he should be kept under close guard.



He took one advantage of his measure of liberty. His brother and rival,

Huascar, though a captive, might escape and seize the control of the

state, and he learned that the prisoner had sent a private message to

Pizarro, offering to pay for his liberty a much larger ransom than that

promised by Atahualpa. The Inca was crafty and cruel enough to remove this

danger from his path, if we may accept the evidence of his captors. At any

rate the royal captive was soon after drowned, declaring with his dying

breath that his rival would not long survive him, but that the white men

would avenge his murder. Atahualpa told Pizarro, with a show of great

sorrow and indignation, of his brother's death, and when the Spaniard

threatened to hold him responsible for it, the Inca protested that it had

been done without his knowledge or consent by Huascar's keepers, who

feared that their captive might escape. However it occurred, Pizarro soon

afterward learned that the news was true. It may be that he was well

satisfied with the fact, as it removed a leading claimant for the throne

from his path.



Meanwhile, the ransom began to come in--slowly, for the distances were

great, and the treasure had to be transported on foot by carriers. Most of

it consisted of massive pieces of gold and silver plate, some of them

weighing from fifty to seventy-five pounds. The Spaniards beheld with

gleaming eyes the shining heaps of treasure, brought in on the shoulders

of Indian porters, and carefully stored away under guard. On some days

articles to the value of half a million dollars are said to have been

brought in.



Yet the vast weight in gold which was thus brought before them did not

satisfy the avaricious impatience of the Spaniards. They made no allowance

for distance and difficulty, and began to suspect the Inca of delaying the

ransom until he could prepare a rising of his subjects against the

strangers. When Atahualpa heard of these suspicions he was filled with

surprise and indignation. "Not a man of my subjects would dare raise a

finger without my orders," he said to Pizarro. "Is not my life at your

disposal? What better security would you have of my good faith?" He ended

by advising him to send some of his own men to Cuzco, where they could see

for themselves how his orders were being obeyed. He would give them a

safe-conduct, and they could superintend the work themselves.



The three envoys sent were carried the whole distance of more than six

hundred miles in litters by relays of carriers, their route laying along

the great military road of Peru and through many populous towns. Cuzco

they found to be a large and splendid city. The great temple of the Sun

was covered with plates of gold, which, by the Inca's orders, were being

torn off. There were seven hundred of these plates in all, and a cornice

of pure gold ran round the building. But this was so deeply set in the

stone that it could not be removed. On their return, these messengers

brought with them full two hundred loads of gold, besides great quantities

of silver.



Gradually the vast ransom offered by the Inca, far surpassing any paid by

any other captive in the world's history, was gathered in. The gold

received came in a great variety of shapes, being wrought into goblets,

ewers, salvers, vases, and other forms for ornament or use, utensils for

temple or palace, tiles and plate used to decorate the public edifices,

and curious imitations of plants and animals. The most beautiful and

artistic of these was the representation of Indian corn, the ear of gold

being sheathed in broad leaves of silver, while the rich tassels were made

of the same precious metal. Equally admired was a fountain which sent up a

sparkling jet of gold, with birds and animals of the same metal playing in

the waters at its base. Some of these objects were so beautifully wrought

as to compare favorably with the work of skilled European artists.



The treasure gathered was measured in the room in its original form, this

being the compact, but even in this loose form the gold amounted to a sum

equal, in modern money, to over fifteen millions of dollars, with a large

value in silver in addition. All this was melted down into ingots and

divided among the conquerors, with the exception of the royal fifth,

reserved for the King of Spain. The latter included many of the most

curious works of art. The share of Pizarro probably amounted to not less

than a million dollars, and even the common soldiers received what was

wealth to them.



The ransom paid, what was the benefit to the Inca? Was he given his

liberty, in accordance with the compact? Yes, the liberty which such men

as Francisco Pizarro give to those whom they have injured and have reason

to fear. The total ransom offered by Atahualpa had not been brought in,

but the impatient Spaniards had divided the spoil without waiting for the

whole, and the Inca demanded his freedom. De Soto, who was his chief

friend among the Spaniards, told Pizarro of his demand, but could get from

him no direct reply. His treacherous mind was brooding deeply over some

dark project.



Soon rumors became current among the soldiers of a design of revolt

entertained by the natives. These spread and grew until an immense army

was conjured up. The Inca was looked upon as the instigator of the

supposed rising, and was charged with it by Pizarro. His denial of it had

little effect, and the fortress was put in a state of defence, while many

of the soldiers began to demand the life of the Inca. To those demands

Pizarro did not turn a deaf ear. Possibly they arose at his own

instigation.




CALLAO.]



DEATH OF ATAHUALPA, FROM A PAINTING IN THE CATHEDRAL AT CALLAO.





Hernando Pizarro, who had shown himself a strong friend of the captive,

was absent. De Soto, another of his friends, was sent at the head of an

expedition to Huamachuco, a town a hundred miles away, where it was said

the natives were in arms. Scarcely had he gone when Pizarro, seeming to

yield to the demands of the soldiers, decided to bring Atahualpa to trial

on the charges against him.



A court was held, with Pizarro and his fellow-captain Almagro as the

judges, an attorney-general being appointed for the crown and counsel for

the prisoner. The crimes charged against the Inca were chiefly of a kind

with which the Spaniards had nothing to do, among them the assassination

of Huascar and the guilt of idolatry. These were simply to bolster up the

only real charge, that of exciting an insurrection against the Spaniards.

The whole affair was the merest show of a trial, and was hurried through

without waiting for the return of De Soto, who could have given useful

evidence about the insurrection. The culprit was adjudged guilty, and

sentenced to be burnt alive that very night in the great square of

Caxamalca!



It was a sentence that might well have been expected as the termination of

such a trial by such men. Pizarro, in fact, did not dare to set his

captive at liberty, if he proposed to remain in the country, and the cruel

sentence, which was common enough at that day, was carried out except in

one particular. As the poor Inca stood bound to the stake, with the fagots

of his funeral pile heaped around him, Valverde, the Dominican friar, made

a last appeal to him to accept the cross and be baptized, promising him a

less painful death if he would consent. The Inca, shrinking from the

horror of the flames, consented, and was duly baptized under the name of

Juan de Atahualpa. He was then put to death in the Spanish manner, by the

garrote, or strangulation.



Thus died the Inca of Peru, the victim of Pizarro's treachery. Great was

the indignation of De Soto, on his return a day or two later from an

expedition in which he had found no rebels, at what had been done. Pizarro

tried to exculpate himself and blame others for deceiving him, but these

told him to his face that he alone was responsible for the deed. In all

probability they told the truth.