The
sacrifice was accepted. The hundred men were put on shore. They wandered
for a few days in the woods, feeding on roots and berries, and shot at
by the Indians. At length they reached a Spanish station, where they
were taken and sent as prisoners to Mexico. There was, as I said, no
Holy Office as yet in Mexico. The new Viceroy, though he had been in the
fight at San Juan de Ulloa, was not implacable. They were treated at
first with humanity; they were fed, clothed, taken care of, and then
distributed among the plantations. Some were employed as overseers, some
as mechanics. Others, who understood any kind of business, were allowed
to settle in towns, make money, and even marry and establish themselves.
Perhaps Philip heard of it, and was afraid that so many heretics might
introduce the plague. The quiet time lasted three years; at the end of
those years the Inquisitors arrived, and then, as if these poor men had
been the special object of that delightful institution, they were hunted
up, thrown into dungeons, examined on their faith, tortured, some burnt
in an _auto da fe_, some lashed through the streets of Mexico naked on
horseback and returned to their prisons. Those who did not die under
this pious treatment were passed over to the Holy Office at Seville and
were condemned to the galleys.
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