]
A ray of hope was enough for the courageous spirit of Pizarro.
It does not appear that he himself had entertained, at any time,
thoughts of returning. If he had, these words of encouragement
entirely banished them from his bosom, and he prepared to stand
the fortune of the cast on which he had so desperately ventured.
He knew, however, that solicitations or remonstrances would avail
little with the companions of his enterprise; and he probably did
not care to win over the more timid spirits who, by perpetually
looking back, would only be a clog on his future movements. He
announced his own purpose, however, in a laconic but decided
manner, characteristic of a man more accustomed to act than to
talk, and well calculated to make an impression on his rough
followers.
Drawing his sword, he traced a line with it on the sand from east
to west. Then turning towards the south, "Friends and comrades!"
he said, "on that side are toil, hunger, nakedness, the drenching
storm, desertion, and death; on this side, ease and pleasure.
There lies Peru with its riches; here, Panama and its poverty.
Choose, each man, what best becomes a brave Castilian. For my
part, I go to the south." So saying, he stepped across the line.
*2 He was followed by the brave pilot Ruiz; next by Pedro de
Candia, a cavalier, born, as his name imports, in one of the
isles of Greece. Eleven others successively crossed the line,
thus intimating their willingness to abide the fortunes of their
leader, for good or for evil.
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