Success only, the best argument with
the multitude, redeemed the expeditions of Pizarro from a similar
imputation of extravagance.
Holding on his southerly course under the lee of the shore, Pizarro, after
a short run, found himself abreast of an open reach of country, or at least
one less encumbered with wood, which rose by a gradual swell, as it
receded from the coast. He landed with a small body of men, and,
advancing a short distance into the interior, fell in with an Indian hamlet.
It was abandoned by the inhabitants, who, on the approach of the
invaders, had betaken themselves to the mountains; and the Spaniards,
entering their deserted dwellings, found there a good store of maize and
other articles of food, and rude ornaments of gold of considerable value.
Food was not more necessary for their bodies than was the sight of gold,
from time to time, to stimulate their appetite for adventure. One
spectacle, however, chilled their blood with horror. This was the sight of
human flesh, which they found roasting before the fire, as the barbarians
had left it, preparatory to their obscene repast. The Spaniards,
conceiving that they had fallen in with a tribe of Caribs, the only race in
that part of the New World known to be cannibals, retreated precipitately
to their vessel.
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