thought he could withstand. He sent back a request that two hours’ time
might be allowed him to deliberate with his officers, when he would
return a decisive answer. At the appointed time he sent to Morgan the
following humiliating proposal:

“The governor is willing to surrender the island, as he has not
sufficient force to repel the English fleet. But for the saving of
his reputation and that of his officers, he begs that Captain Morgan
would attack him by night, with all his marine and land forces. The
governor will feign an attempt to escape from one fort to another, when
Captain Morgan’s troops can intercept and capture him. There shall be a
continued firing on both sides, but without bullets.”

To these terms, so degrading to the governor, Morgan rejoicingly
acceded. Thus, from apparently hopeless defeat, his sagacity won a
signal and bloodless victory. The sham fight took place according to
the programme. That night there was a great and ridiculous roar of all
the big guns in the fort and on the ships. Powder was burned freely.
The white flag was raised by the governor, the surrender made, and the
island, with all it contained, passed into the hands of the pirates.

The buccaneers were half starved. Several days were spent in feasting.
The island was well stocked with beef cattle, swine, and poultry.
Recklessly they were destroyed. The houses were torn down to build
their fires. Two thousand men, by day and by night, indulged in the
wildest orgies of revelry. Many of the people of the settlement
fled into the woods. But the pirates counted four hundred and fifty
captives. The women, who were subject to every indignity, were
imprisoned in a church.

Morgan, upon inspecting the works, was astonished at their strength
and at his own victory. The main fort, or castle as it was called, was
very strong, built of stone, and surrounded by a wide ditch twenty
feet deep. Heavy guns commanded the port. There were other supporting
batteries which mounted nearly sixty guns. An immense amount of
ammunition, including thirty thousand pounds of powder, were found
in the fort. These were all transferred on board the ships. The guns
were spiked, the gun-carriages burned, and the pirates, with shouts of
victory, again spread their sails.

Among the prisoners there were three desperadoes, notorious robbers,
who professed to be familiar with the route to Panama, and with all the
region around. Eagerly they joined in the expedition with the promise
of sharing in the spoil. Esquemeling, speaking of the proposition made
to these wretches by Morgan, says:

“These propositions pleased the banditti very well. They readily
accepted his proffers, promising to serve him very faithfully;
especially one of these three, who was the greatest rogue, thief, and
assassin among them, and who deserved, for his crimes, to be broken
alive upon the wheel. This wicked fellow had a great ascendency over
the other two, and could domineer over them as he pleased, they not
daring to refuse obedience to his orders.”

The Isthmus of Panama was then celebrated for its gold and silver
mines. It was the seat of a very extensive commerce, and was perhaps
more strongly fortified and more populous than any other of the Spanish
colonies. This narrow tongue of land, which separates the Atlantic and
Pacific oceans, is about three hundred miles in length, and from thirty
to forty in breadth.

Chagres, on the Atlantic coast, was a very strongly fortified
settlement at the mouth of the Chagres River. On the other side of the
isthmus, on the Pacific shore, was Panama, a far more important place,
abounding in wealth. Morgan’s plan was to capture Chagres; leave his
fleet in the harbor there; ascend the river in his boats as far as the
stream was navigable, and then to march to the doomed city. With his
two thousand well-armed desperadoes he doubted not his ability to crush
any force which might be brought against him.

Morgan sent, in advance, four ships and a large boat to capture
Chagres. The expedition was intrusted to the vice-admiral Bradley,
the same one who had so successfully led the foraging party to
Rancheria. He was a notorious buccaneer, renowned for his exploits.
Three days’ sail brought his squadron to Chagres. Upon an eminence,
commanding the entrance to the river, there was a strong fort, called
Castle Lawrence. As Bradley approached the harbor, he unfurled at his
mast-head the blood-red flag of the pirate. The garrison immediately
displayed the royal banner of Spain, and foolishly saluted them with a
volley of shot which did not reach their ships.

The buccaneers, according to their usual stratagem, instead of bringing
their wooden walls up to be battered by the guns of the fort, cast
anchor about a mile from the castle, and landing, cut a path with
hatchet and sabre through the tangled forest, to attack the works upon
their weakest side. Early in the morning the landing was effected. By
the middle of the afternoon they had reached a hill, from whose summit
they could throw their shot into the fort, could they but have drawn
their cannon to that spot.

But the marshy ground would not admit of this. The garrison had brought
their guns to bear upon the eminence, and opened a fire before which
many of the pirates fell. Bradley was greatly disheartened. The fort
proved to be of very unexpected strength. It was surrounded by two
high parallel walls of timber, filled in with earth. Well-constructed
bastions were at each corner. The works were enclosed by a ditch,
thirty feet deep. There was but one entrance, and that was by a
drawbridge across this ditch. The north side of the castle was washed
by the broad and rapid river. On the south there was a precipitous
inaccessible crag. Strong batteries guarded the approaches to both the
other sides.

Even the most desperate of the pirates recoiled from the idea of
attempting to carry works so formidable by assault. But Bradley could
not endure the thought of the scorn and rage he would encounter from
Morgan should he retreat without making the attempt. After much
perplexity and disputing it was resolved to hazard the assault. They
hoped with hatchet and sabre to cut down the timber, and then to
clamber over the crumbling earth. The interior of the works was all
of wood. There were barracks and huts, which, beneath the blaze of a
tropical sun, had become dry as powder.

Cautiously the buccaneers descended the hill, throwing themselves upon
their faces as the explosions of the massive guns showered the balls
around them. Their sharpshooters threw bullets through the loops of the
walls, and through the embrasures, to strike down the artillery-men at
the guns. This skirmishing was continued until night, but nothing was
accomplished. Many of the pirates were killed, and Bradley himself had
one of his legs broken by a cannon-ball. The reckless men charged up to
the very walls, threw over fire-balls, and hacked at the timbers.

The pirates, as darkness approached, began to retreat. The Spaniards
shouted to them from the walls:

“Come on, you English devils; you heretics; the enemies of God and of
the king. Let your comrades, who are behind, come also. We will serve
them as we have served you. You shall not get to Panama this time.”

This shout alarmed them. It revealed the fact that, in some way, the
Spaniards had been warned of the expected attack upon Panama, and would
prepare for resistance. As a group of the pirates were conferring
together, in the dusk, an arrow from the castle struck one of them in
the shoulder. He coolly drew the point from the bleeding wound, and
addressing his companions, said:

“Look here, my comrades, I will make this accursed arrow the means of
the destruction of all the Spaniards.”

He then drew from his pocket a quantity of wild cotton, which the
buccaneers carried with them as lint to staunch their wounds. This he
wound around the head of the arrow. Charging his musket with powder
only, he inserted the arrow and fired it back into the castle. It
lighted upon a roof of thatch. The powder set fire to the cotton, and
the cotton to the dry leaves. The roof was instantly in a flame.

The Indians had aided the garrison, and their arrows lay thick around.
Instantly the air was filled with a shower of these flaming meteors.
They fell upon the thatched roofs, and tongues of fire flashed in all
directions. One chanced to fall upon a large quantity of powder, and a
fearful explosion followed. A terrible conflagration blazed forth. A
scene of shrieks, confusion, and horror ensued which is indescribable.
The inmates of the fort found themselves in the crater of a volcano
in its most violent state of eruption. It was in vain to attempt to
extinguish the flames. No one could live in such a furnace.

The night was dark, moonless and starless. The bodies of the Spaniards
were clearly defined against the glowing background of flame. The
pirates, with unerring aim, shot them down. Every bullet struck
its target. The Spaniards, in the horrible tumult, could make but
little resistance. They still, however, taking refuge as they could
in different parts of the fort, fought with impotent desperation.
Oexemelin relates an incident illustrative of the indomitable fury of
the assailants.

One of the pirates was pierced in the eye by an Indian arrow. In
terrible agony he came to Oexemelin to draw it out. Its barbed point
had sunk deep in the socket of the eye, and could only be withdrawn
by cruelly tearing it out. Oexemelin hesitated; he had not sufficient
nerve to inflict such torture. The pirate seized it with both hands,
tore it out with its mangled and bloody adhesions, bound a handkerchief
over the wound, and with a curse rushed forward again to the assault.

The fire raged through the whole night. All the wood-work was consumed.
The walls of earth crumbled down. The pirates, mounting upon each
other’s shoulders, climbed the ramparts and threw down hand-grenades
and fire-balls, and pots of suffocating odors upon the helpless
garrison. “The armor had fallen piecemeal from their giant adversary,
and he now stood before them bare, wounded, and defenceless.”

Still, in one corner of the fort, the heroic governor rallied the few
survivors, twenty-five only in number, resolved to fight to the bitter
end. They were slightly protected from a charge by a deep ditch, which
ran directly before them. This, however, afforded them no shelter from
the bullets of their foes. A dreadful storm of fire-balls and lead fell
upon them. They had no hope of victory--no hope of escape even. Their
only desire was to kill as many of the pirates as they could before
they should die themselves. At last a shot pierced the brain of the
governor. The feeble remnant was easily overpowered.

The garrison had consisted of three hundred and fourteen men. All of
these, excepting fourteen, were either killed or helplessly wounded.
Not a single officer was left alive. The governor had previously
dispatched a courier to Panama to alarm the city. In this sanguinary
conflict the pirates had lost very heavily. One hundred were killed and
seventy grievously wounded. A large pit was dug and the one hundred
dead bodies of the pirates were thrown in and covered up from sight
and smell. The prisoners were compelled to drag the bodies of the dead
Spaniards to the cliff, and cast them into the sea. A large amount of
ammunition and provisions were found in the fort.

Morgan, informed of the fall of Chagres, devastated the Island of St.
Catherine as much as possible, so as to render it quite indefensible.
It was his intention to return and recover the place, so as to make
it a rendezvous for his fleet in future operations. On the cruise to
Chagres a violent storm arose. His fleet was scattered, so that they
were detained many days at sea. But as ship after ship entered the bay,
and the crews beheld the English flag floating from the blackened
walls of Chagres Castle, the bay resounded with their cheers, and with
salutes from their cannon. So eager was the admiral and some of the
others in their heedless joy, that, without waiting for a pilot, his
own and three other vessels were driven upon sunken rocks, where they
broke to pieces. The crew and cargoes were saved.

Morgan immediately set to work with great energy, employing all his
force of engineers, carpenters, and laborers in repairing the castle.
Here he stationed a garrison of picked men, storing the magazines with
provisions and ammunition, as a refuge from any possible disaster at
Panama. The fortunes of war are proverbially inconstant. The pirate
Morgan was a very able general. His plans were generally well formed to
meet adversity as well as prosperity.

CHAPTER XX.

_The March from Chagres to Panama._

  Preparations to Ascend the River.--Crowding of the Boats.--The
  Bivouac at Bracos.--Sufferings from Hunger.--The Pathless
  Route.--The Boats Abandoned.--Light Canoes Employed.--Abandoned
  Ambuscades.--Painful Marches, Day by Day.--The Feast on
  Leathern Bags.--Murmurs and Contentions.--The Indians
  Encountered.--Struggling through the Forest.--The Conflagration
  at Santa Cruz.--Battle and Skirmishes.--First Sight of
  Panama.--Descent into the Plain.--Feasting.

From the prisoners Morgan learned that three weeks before their arrival
the garrison at Chagres was informed, by a message from Carthagena,
that the English were equipping a fleet at Hispaniola for the capture
of Panama. The governor immediately sent one hundred and sixty-four
soldiers to strengthen the garrison at Chagres, which had previously
numbered but one hundred and fifty. Morgan was also informed that the
governor of Panama had placed several ambuscades along the Chagres
River, and that a force of three thousand six hundred men was awaiting
his arrival at Chagres.

These were tidings sufficient to appal any ordinary mind. But the
pirates were accustomed to triumph over vastly superior numbers.
There were several large Spanish boats at Chagres, adapted to river
navigation. All these Morgan seized. They generally mounted two great
iron guns and four smaller ones of brass. These vessels, with those
he took from his ships, made a flotilla of thirty-two gunboats. They
were manned by twelve hundred sailors. Five hundred were left behind to
garrison the castle. One hundred and fifty had charge of the ships.

On the 18th of August, 1670, Morgan put his fleet in motion to ascend
the Chagres River on his advance to Panama. His boats were greatly
crowded, and so heavily laden with men, ammunition, and arms, that he
could take but a small supply of provisions. He expected to provide
himself abundantly from the supplies he should find in the Spanish
ambuscades.

The first day the little fleet ascended the river but eighteen miles,
to a place called Bracos. The men on board his boats were greatly
cramped in their limbs, having but little room to move, and none in
which to lie down. They therefore found it necessary to land for the
night, that they might enjoy a few hours of sleep. They also hoped to
rob some of the neighboring plantations. Nearly all their food had
disappeared in this one day’s sail.

The cheer of camp-fires seems to be essential to all bivouacs. The
gloom of the dense tropical forest was soon illumined by the flames
around which twelve hundred men were congregated. Most of them went
supperless to their mossy beds, consoled only by their pipes of
tobacco. In the morning they ranged the country in vain for food. The
planters had fled, taking with them or destroying everything that could
be eaten.

Again they repaired to their boats. Hungry, disappointed, and
murmuring, they ascended the river about twenty miles farther until
they reached a place called Juan Gallego. Here they were compelled
to leave their boats, as the river was so shallow from want of rain;
it was also much impeded by decayed and fallen trees. Thus ended the
second day.

There was no road for an army through the rough, miry, tangled maze.
They were told by the guides that, at the distance of two leagues, they
would find the country more favorable. With sabre and hatchet these
half-famished men hewed a narrow path for themselves. They fed upon
berries, roots, and leaves. One hundred and sixty men were left to
guard the boats, and to feed themselves as best they could by hunting
or plundering, or obtaining supplies from the fleet.

Morgan had advanced but a mile or two when the gigantic growth and
interlacing vines seemed to render the forest impenetrable. The
river also deepened a little, so that some of his boats would float.
There was imminent danger every moment that he would fall into some
ambuscade. He sent back for some light canoes to be brought up. This
was accomplished with great labor. He then embarked his men, taking
a part at a time, and thus, ascending the river a few miles farther,
reached a place called Cedro Bueno. To accomplish this, the canoes
made several passages. The pirates were very eager to encounter the
Spaniards, as their only means of obtaining any food. But the Spaniards
wisely left them to the hardships of their march and to the pangs of
starvation.

The morning of the fourth day dawned upon these wretched marauders.
Most of them struggled along the banks of the river, led by one of
their guides. Others toiled against the stream, in the canoes, being
often compelled to alight in the water, to cross sandbars or surmount
rapids. To guard against ambuscades the guides were kept a quarter of
a mile in advance. The Spaniards had sent forward their Indian scouts,
and kept themselves informed of every movement of the foe. About noon
of this day they reached a place which from its extreme ruggedness was
called Torna Cavallos.

Here the guides came rushing back to the main body with the
announcement that they had discovered an ambuscade. The half-starved
men were delighted. They knew that the Spaniards, on all their
expeditions, provided themselves luxuriously with food. Examining
their muskets, their priming, and their sabres, that they might be
prepared for a resistless charge, they pressed eagerly yet cautiously
forward. They soon came in sight of an intrenchment, which was shaped
like a half-moon. Their practised eyes told them that it would protect
a garrison of about four hundred men. Twelve hundred men, impelled by
rage and hunger, with hideous yells rushed upon it. Bitter was their
disappointment when they found no foe there. They had captured but an
abandoned and crumbling rampart. There were some coarsely tanned, hairy
leather bags scattered around. Their hunger was so great that these
were cut up, cooked, and eaten. We have a minute account of the cookery
of these unsavory morsels.

First they took the leather and sliced it in pieces. Then they beat
the pieces between two stones rubbing them and dipping them in the
water, to render them supple and tender. Lastly they scraped off the
hair, and roasted or broiled the pieces upon the fire. Being thus
cooked, they cut it into very fine pieces, which “they helped down with
frequent gulps of water, which by good fortune they had nigh at hand.”

“I can assure the reader,” writes Oexemelin, “that a man can live on
such food, though he can hardly get very fat.”

Esquemeling adds, “Some who were never out of their mothers’ kitchens
may ask how these pirates could eat, swallow, and digest those pieces
of leather so hard and dry? Unto whom I would answer that could they
once experience what hunger, or rather famine is, they would certainly
find the manner, as the pirates did, by their own experience.”

On the morning of the fifth day the weary march was resumed. Having
had but little food, save the leather bags, they were in a deplorable
condition. The pirates were not amiable men. They staggered along,
in their weakness, over the rough ways, murmuring, quarrelling, and
cursing each other. As night approached they came to a place called
Barbacoa. Here they found another abandoned ambuscade. Not a particle
of food was to be obtained. Loud and bitter were their oaths against
the Spaniards. Dreadful would have been the fate of any of them who
might have fallen into their hands. Esquemeling says that they were so
consumed by hunger, that if they had caught any of the Spaniards they
would certainly have roasted and eaten them.

Parties were sent out to explore the woods in search of habitations.
But none could be found. The inhabitants, in all directions, had fled,
carrying with them their provisions. The day was spent here. It was a
day of dreadful suffering. Life was preserved by devouring berries,
roots, and leaves. Several plantations were discovered, but there
was generally not an individual, an animal, or a kernel of corn left
behind. In one place they found concealed two sacks of wheat, two jars
of wine, and a few plantains. These Morgan divided among those who were
nearest to perishing of hunger.

The sixth day they continued their march, still along the banks of
the Chagres River. Such as could not walk were paddled along in light
canoes. At night they came to a plantation, which, as usual, was
entirely abandoned. Their supper consisted mainly of leaves and grass.

The next day, at noon, they discovered a barn, full of Indian corn in
the husk. They fell upon it and devoured it dry, with the rapacity of a
herd of swine. Having satiated their hunger, each man loaded himself
with as much as he could carry. With renovated spirits, they pressed
on their way. After journeying along for a couple of hours, they came
upon a band of about two hundred Indians, who fled with the utmost
precipitation. They were far more fleet of foot than the exhausted
pirates, and not one of them was shot or captured. In their flight, the
Indians threw back a shower of arrows, which wounded several of the
pirates, and killed three of them. They shouted out in Spanish: “Ha! ye
dogs, go to the plain, go to the plain.”

They now reached such a bend in the river that it was necessary to
cross it. They therefore bivouacked for the night. This place was
called Santa Cruz.

Loud murmurings filled the camp. Morgan was denounced in unmeasured
terms. They were indeed involved in gloom. To go back was certain
starvation. And destruction seemed equally to threaten them in a
farther advance. There were some, however, who still kept up their
courage, and shouted, “Onward! onward!”

The morning of the seventh day they crossed the river. As it was
supposed that they must soon meet the Spaniards, every man was
required carefully to examine his musket and pistols, to be ready for
any engagement. The guides told them that they were approaching the
important town of Cruz, where they would find provisions and other
stores in abundance. This was called the halfway house between Chagres
and Panama, though it was sixty-eight miles from the former place and
but twenty-four from the latter. To this point the Chagres merchandise
was taken in boats, when the river was full, and, being landed, was
conveyed to Panama on the backs of mules. To give the reader some idea
of the style of Esquemeling’s narrative, written two hundred years
ago,[A] I will quote his graphic description of what ensued:

[Footnote A: His account was written in Dutch, but translated into
English and published in London.]

“While yet at a considerable distance from Cruz, they perceived much
smoke to arise out of the chimneys. The sight thereof afforded them
great joy, and hopes of finding people in the town; and afterwards what
they most desired was plenty of good cheer. Thus they went on, with as
much haste as they could, making several arguments to one another upon
those external signs, though all like castles built in the air. For
said they, ‘There is smoke cometh out of every house. Therefore they
are making good fires for to roast and boil what we are to eat,’ with
other things to this purpose.

“At length they arrived there, in great haste, all sweating and
panting; but found no person in the town, nor any thing that was
eatable, wherewith to refresh themselves, unless it were good fires to
warm themselves, which they wanted not. For the Spaniards, before their
departure, had every one set fire to his own house, excepting only the
store-houses and stables belonging to the king.

“They had not left behind them any beast whatever, either alive or
dead. This occasioned much confusion in their minds; they not finding
the least thing to take hold of, unless it were some few cats and dogs,
which they immediately killed and devoured with great appetite. At
last, in the king’s stables, they found, by good fortune, fifteen or
sixteen jars of Peru wine, and a leather sack full of bread. But no
sooner had they begun to drink of the said wine, when they fell sick,
almost every man.

“This sudden disaster made them think that the wine was poisoned, which
caused a new consternation in the whole camp, as judging themselves now
to be irrecoverably lost. But the true reason was their huge want of
sustenance in that whole voyage, and the manifold sorts of trash which
they had eaten upon that occasion. Their sickness was so great that day
as caused them to remain there till the next morning, without being
able to prosecute their journey, as they used to do, in the afternoon.

“Here Captain Morgan was constrained to leave his canoes and land
all his men, though never so weak in their bodies. But lest the
canoes should be surprised, or take too many men for their defence,
he resolved to send them all back to the place where the boats were,
excepting one, which he caused to be hidden, to the intent it might
serve to carry intelligence, according to the exigency of affairs. Many
of the Spaniards and Indians, belonging to this village, were fled
unto the plantations thereabouts. Hereupon Captain Morgan gave express
orders that none should dare to go out of the village except in whole
companies of one hundred together.

“The occasion hereof was his fear lest the enemies should take an
advantage upon his men by any sudden assault. Notwithstanding, one
party of English soldiers stickled not to contravene these commands,
being thereunto tempted with the desire of finding victuals. But these
were soon glad to fly into the town again, being assaulted with great
fury by some Spaniards and Indians, who snatched up one of the pirates
and carried him away prisoner. Thus the vigilancy and care of Captain
Morgan was not sufficient to prevent every accident which might happen.”

On the morning of the 8th, Morgan reviewed his troops. He found that
he had still eleven hundred resolute men at his command. He selected a
band of two hundred of his best marksmen as an advance guard. They were
to watch vigilantly for ambuscades. The path they were to traverse was
very narrow. At many places but two could pass abreast. Cautiously they
proceeded for ten hours, encountering no sign of an enemy.

At length they reached a dark wooded gorge, which the sunlight could
scarcely penetrate. Apparently no one could enter the dense thickets
around, of bushes, thorns, and intertwining vines, but by hewing his
way with the hatchet. A high mountain rose before them. But nature had
tunnelled it, so that there was a narrow path through. This remarkable
place was called Quebrada Obscura.

Suddenly, from the impenetrable forest which enveloped the mountain, a
shower of arrows fell upon them, like hailstones from the clouds. They
probably exaggerated the number in estimating them at between three
and four thousand. They came rushing, as by some supernatural impulse,
through the leaves. No hand was seen. No sound was heard. No movement
was perceptible. There was but that one flight of arrows and no more.
Those who, with sinewy arms, had thrown them, in some mysterious way
escaped--as it were, vanished.

This singular and inexplicable assault threw the army into great
confusion. For a moment, these reckless men were staggered. It seems
strange that but eight of the pirates were killed and ten wounded by
this shower of arrows. After a few moments’ delay, the pirates moved
cautiously forward, threading the narrow tunnel, through which but two
could walk abreast, until they came out upon a very rough plain on the
other side, encumbered with huge rocks and a growth of gigantic trees.
To this vantage-ground the Indians had retreated, and here they seemed
disposed to make a stand.

Quite a fierce battle ensued. The Indians could be seen, in large
numbers, dodging from rock to rock, and from tree to tree. They fought
with great bravery. Their chief was a very handsome young fellow,
gorgeously dressed, and with a very brilliant coronet of variegated
feathers. He seemed to have no fear. At length, in his zeal, he
plunged headlong upon the pirates, utterly regardless of numbers, and
endeavored to thrust his javelin through one a little in the advance.
The blow was parried, and he was instantly shot down.

As he was seen to fall, there was a loud cry from his followers
and, without discharging another shaft, they all fled. The pirates
impetuously pursued. The fugitives could not be overtaken. A few of the
boldest concealed themselves behind trees and thickets, whence they
could make good their retreat, and worried the pirates with a random
fire, which sorely wounded a few, without accomplishing any important
results.

The buccaneers entered soon upon a broad, treeless prairie. Here
they halted to tend the wounded. At some distance before them there
was another rocky and wooded eminence. The Indians, who seemed to be
swarming there, were evidently preparing for another battle. A party of
fifty men was sent, by a circuitous route, to attack them in the rear.
Their watchful eyes detected the movement. With nimble feet, they fled,
shouting to their assailants, “To the plain, to the plain, you English
dogs.”

The pirates rightly interpreted these words to mean that on the plain
before Panama a large body of Spaniards was assembled, and that there
the great struggle was to take place. Many Spaniards were with the
Indians. At this point, which was but a few miles from Panama, they
disappeared. The next night there came one of those flooding rains with
which tropical lands were so often deluged. The pirates in vain sought
shelter from the drenching storm. There was the blackness of darkness,
with thunderings and lightnings, and the howlings of the tornado.
There were many plantations on the route where houses and huts had
been reared. But the Indians had applied the torch. Every building was
in ashes. The cattle were driven away. All provisions were removed or
consumed. These wretched men, on their fiend-like mission, were still
starving.

The next morning, which was the ninth of their journey, the rain
ceased. Heavy clouds floated through the sky, darkening the sun, and
thus enabling them to march sheltered from its scorching rays. A
well-mounted troop of twenty Spaniards appeared at some distance in the
advance, watching all the movements of the invaders. During the day
they came to quite a high mountain, which it was necessary to cross.
From its summit they first caught sight of the Pacific Ocean, and of
the Bay of Panama, upon whose shores the city of the same name was
situated. In the bay there was a large Spanish ship riding at anchor.
Six boats were under sail, directing their course toward the islands of
Tavoga and Tavogilla, which were about eighteen miles distant.

At this sight the pirates raised shouts of joy. Never doubting their
own prowess, they considered their toils as ended, and the city, with
all its treasures, as already in their possession. At the foot of the
mountain there was a large grassy plain, over which thousands of cattle
were grazing, cows, horses, bulls, mules, and donkeys. With a rush,
the piratic gangs descended the mountain, and, with the voracity of
famished wolves, fell upon the cattle.

“One shot a horse. Another felled a cow. But the greater part
slaughtered the mules, which were most numerous. Some kindled fires;
others collected wood; and the strongest hunted the cattle, while the
invalids slew and skinned and flayed. The whole plain was soon alight
with a hundred fires. The hungry men cut off lumps of flesh, carbonaded
them in the flame, and ate them half raw, with incredible haste and
ferocity. ‘They resembled,’ Esquemeling says, ‘rather cannibals than
Christians, the blood running down their beards to the middle of their
bodies.’”[A]

[Footnote A: Monarchs of the Main, vol. ii. p. 114.]

CHAPTER XXI.

_The Capture of Panama._

  First Sight of the City.--The Spanish Scouts Appear.--Morgan’s
  Advance.--Character of the Country.--Fears of the
  Spaniards.--Removal of Treasure.--Capture of the City.--The
  Poisoned Wine.--Magnificent Scenery of the Bay.--Description of
  Panama and its Surroundings.--Wealth of the City.--Scenes of
  Crime and Cruelty.

Morgan was an extraordinary man. Fear never appalled him. He was never
discouraged by disasters. Passion was never allowed to throw him off
his guard. He shared, in full, all the hardships of his demoniac crew.
Though hungry and weary himself, and sympathizing with his starving
men in their sufferings, he did not in the least degree remit his
watchfulness or lose his self-control.

Perceiving the danger that his men, in their famished condition,
indulging in such reckless gluttony might induce sickness which would
incapacitate them for battle, he ordered a false alarm to be sounded.
Instantly every man seized his musket and ran to his appointed place
in the ranks. Morgan had taken the precaution, before descending the
mountain, to order every musket to be discharged and loaded afresh,
from fear that the powder might have become damp.

There were several miles yet to be traversed over plains and through
forests, before the pirates could enter the streets of the city, which
they had discerned in the distance. Cautiously they continued their
march until the approach of evening when they ascended an eminence
which commanded a perfect view of the city, with its steeples, houses,
and streets all aglow with the rays of the setting sun. Here the shouts
of exultation were renewed. The pirates, strengthened by their feast,
danced for joy, beating their drums, sounding their trumpets, firing
off their muskets, and exulting as in the hour of perfect victory. Here
they encamped for the night, waiting impatiently for the morning, which
would usher in the decisive battle.

In the evening two hundred mounted Spaniards rode out from the city,
dashed along until they came within hailing distance of the pirates,
and shouted out to them words which could not be understood. Morgan
established double sentinels, and all his men slept upon their arms.

At daybreak on the tenth day the Spaniards, from their walls, sounded
with bugle-peal and drum-beat a challenge to their foes. The pirates
were equally eager for the fight. Rapidly they advanced into the
plain. The Spaniards, on horseback and on foot, crowded out to meet
them. In glittering battalions they were drawn up upon the plain,
outnumbering the pirates three to one. There were two squadrons of
cavalry, four regiments of foot, and, most singular to relate, “a huge
number of wild bulls, roaring and tossing their horns, driven by a
great number of Indians and a few mounted matadores.”

It is recorded that the pirates were surprised and alarmed in view of
the force thus to be encountered. Many of them wished they were at
home. No quarter was to be expected. There was no hope for them but in
fighting with the utmost desperation. All were conscious of this. They
therefore bound themselves, by the most solemn oaths, to conquer or to
spend the last drop of their blood.

Morgan formed his men into three battalions, after selecting a band
of two hundred sharpshooters to skirmish in the advance. Many of the
Spaniards were armed in glittering coats of mail. Their silken banners,
richly embroidered, presented a beautiful appearance as they fluttered
in the rays of the morning sun. The Spaniards sent forward a squadron
of horse. As they came galloping over the plain, Morgan’s skirmishers
fell upon one knee, in the tall grass, and opened upon them a very
destructive fire. Several riders dropped from their horses. Several
horses, struck by the bullets, and appalled by the sudden explosion of
two hundred guns, became uncontrollable, and rushed wildly over the
plain in all directions.

“The bulls,” writes Thornbury, “proved as fatal to those who employed
them as the elephants to Porus. Driven on the rear of the buccaneers,
they took fright at the noise of the battle, a few only broke through
the English companies, and trampled the red colors under foot; but
these were soon shot by the old hunters. A few fled to the savanna, and
the rest tore back and carried havoc through the Spanish ranks.”

The plain was rough with ravines and quagmires, so that the cavalry
could not operate to advantage. The desperate pirates were all reckless
in their courage, and nearly all unerring in their aim. The Spaniards
were also men of war and blood, who had been guilty of the greatest
atrocities as they had cut down and robbed the native tribes. They
fought with ferocity equal to that of the pirates. In this battle it
was, in reality, fiend against fiend. The Spaniards were as bad as the
pirates.

For two hours the battle raged with intensest fury. There was neither
tree, stump, nor rock to protect either party from the bullets which
with deadly velocity swept the plain. On the one side there were eleven
hundred pirates. Esquemeling estimated the force of the Spaniards at
four hundred cavalry and two thousand four hundred infantry. There were
also one or two hundred Indians and negroes to drive the wild bulls
through the English camp, hoping thus to break their lines and throw
them into confusion. The Spaniards had also dug trenches and raised
batteries to arrest the advance of their foes.

Morgan, as usual, ordered his men to approach the city by a circuitous
route, so as to avoid the batteries. In preparation for this movement
he ordered a review of the troops. He concealed from his troops the
number of pirates who had fallen, but announced, probably with some
exaggeration, that six hundred of the Spaniards lay dead upon the field.

It would seem that the Spaniards had not been very sanguine as to the
result of the battle; for they had shipped to the Island of Tavoga much
of their portable wealth and all of their women. In the battle thus
far, the Spaniards had been so decidedly beaten that they had abandoned
the field, and horse and foot had taken a new stand behind the
ramparts. Many prisoners had been taken, including quite a number of
Catholic priests. Morgan, not wishing to be encumbered with prisoners,
ordered them all to be pistolled. The pirates had lost heavily, but
their loss exasperated instead of disheartening them.

Esquemeling writes: “The pirates were nothing discouraged, seeing their
numbers so much diminished, but rather filled with greater pride than
before, perceiving what huge advantage they had obtained against their
enemies. Thus, having rested themselves some while, they prepared to
march courageously towards the city, plighting their oaths to one
another that they would fight till never a man were left alive. With
this courage they recommenced their march either to conquer or to be
conquered.

“They found much difficulty in their approach unto the city. For within
the town the Spaniards had placed many great guns at several quarters
thereof, some of which were charged with small pieces of iron and
others with musket bullets. With all these they saluted the pirates
at their drawing nigh unto the place, and gave them full and frequent
broadsides, firing at them incessantly. From whence it happened that
they lost, at every step they advanced, great numbers of men.

“But neither these manifest dangers of their lives, nor the sight of
so many of their own dropping down continually at their sides, could
deter them from advancing farther and gaining ground every moment upon
the enemy. Thus, although the Spaniards never ceased to fire and act
the best they could for their defence, yet, notwithstanding, they were
forced to deliver the city after the space of three hours’ combat. And
the pirates, having now possessed themselves thereof, both killed and
destroyed as many as attempted to make the least opposition against
them.

“The inhabitants had caused the best of their goods to be transported
unto more remote and occult places. Howbeit, they found within the
city, as yet, several warehouses well stocked with all sorts of
merchandise, as well silks and cloths as linen and other things of
considerable value. As soon as the first fury of their entrance into
the city was over, Captain Morgan assembled all his men, at a certain
place which he assigned, and there commanded them, under very great
penalties, that none of them should dare to drink or taste any wine.

“The reason he gave for this injunction was because he had received
private intelligence that it had been all poisoned by the Spaniards.
Howbeit it was the opinion of many that he gave those prudent orders
to prevent the debauchery of his people, which he foresaw would be
very great at the beginning, after so much hunger sustained by the
way; fearing withal lest the Spaniards, seeing them in wine, should
rally their forces, and use them as inhumanly as they had used the
inhabitants before.”

Morgan was now master of Panama. The city, with nearly all of its
wealth, had fallen into his hands. And still the vanquished Spaniards
could rally a force greatly outnumbering his own. The Bay of Panama
is one of peculiar beauty. At that time its shores were fringed with
luxuriant groves of oranges, figs, and limes. The feathery tops of the
cocoanut trees towered over all the rest, rivalled only by the lofty
tamarinds. Through the rich foliage there peeped, in much picturesque
beauty, numerous cane-built huts. Indian children, entirely unclothed,
were running about upon the beach, while birch canoes, light as
bubbles, were skimming the placid waves.

The islands of Tavoga and Tavogilla appeared in the distance as masses
of foliage. The mines of Mexico and Peru had emptied their floods
of wealth into that port. Many of the mansions were architecturally
magnificent. They were adorned with the richest paintings and with the
most costly furniture. The Spanish grandees had hung upon their walls
the masterpieces of Titian, Murillo, and Velasquez. The streets of the
city were broad, an unusual circumstance in Spanish cities, and were
lined with the most beautiful and ever-flowering of tropical trees.

Within the walls of the city there was a cathedral of imposing
magnitude and towering splendor. There were also eight monasteries,
massive buildings, occupied by the religious orders, and abundantly
supplied with works of art. The broad avenues were lined with two
thousand mansions of the wealthy; and five thousand smaller houses and
shops crowded the more busy streets. The most imposing block in the
city was what was called the Genoese Warehouses. These belonged to a
company who had enriched themselves by the slave trade. An immense
number of horses and mules were used in transporting goods across the
isthmus, from one ocean to the other. These were kept in long rows
of stables admirably arranged. The products of the mines of gold and
silver were melted down into solid bars called plate or bullion, and in
that form were sent to the Old World. The city was surrounded with rich
plantations and highly artistic gardens.

“Panama was the city to which all the treasures of Peru were annually
brought. The plate fleet, laden with bars of gold and silver, arrived
here at certain periods, brimming with the crown wealth, as well as
that of private merchants. It returned laden with the merchandise of
Panama and the Spanish main, to be sold in Peru and Chili; and still
oftener with droves of negro slaves that the Genoese imported from the
coast of Guinea to toil and die in the Peruvian mines.

“So wealthy was this golden city that more than two thousand mules were
employed in the transport of the gold and silver from thence to Porto
Bello, where the galleons were loaded. The merchants of Panama were
proverbially the richest in the whole Spanish West Indies. The governor
of Panama was the suzerain of Porto Bello, Nata, Cruz, and Veragua. The
bishop of Panama was primate of the Terra Firma and the suffragan to
the archbishop of Peru. The district of Panama was the most healthy of
all the Spanish colonies, rich in mines, and so well wooded that its
ship-timber covered with vessels both the northern and the southern
seas. Its land yielded full crops, and its broad savannas pastured
innumerable herds of wild cattle.”[A]

[Footnote A: Monarchs of the Main, vol. ii. p. 159.]

Such was the city and province which had fallen into the hands of
this gang of pirates. They found the booty, notwithstanding all the
Spaniards had removed, rich beyond their most sanguine expectations.
The stores were still crowded with goods of great value. Wine, spices,
olive oil, silks and cloths of every variety of fabric were found in
great abundance. The magazines were amply supplied with corn and other
provisions.

Morgan himself was surprised at the grandeur of his capture. He was
also alarmed in view of his own peril. The force which could still be
arrayed against him was far greater than he had anticipated. He was in
imminent danger of being cut off from his return to the ships. There
were several Spanish vessels aground in the port. Morgan seized them.
With the high tide they were floated. He manned them with the most
desperate of his gang and sent them to the islands, and to pursue the
vessels which had escaped with treasure along the coast.

There was one royal Spanish mercantile vessel, in particular, of four
hundred tons, which had escaped, laden with church plate and jewels,
and the richest merchandise. It had put to sea in the greatest haste,
with but seven guns and but about a dozen muskets. It was poorly
supplied with food and water, and had only the uppermost sails of the
mainmast to spread. All the females of the nunnery were on board this
ship, with the most valuable ornaments of the church.

Morgan was anxious to make an immediate pursuit of this vessel. Had
he done so the vessel would easily have been captured. But for a time
he lost the control of his demoniac crew. Inflamed with wine--for
Morgan’s prohibition had no effect--and rushing into the most pitiless
debauchery, they spent many hours in scenes which neither Sodom nor
Gomorrah could ever have outrivalled. Thus the ship escaped. It is
said that it contained gold and silver of greater value than all the
treasures found in Panama.

Morgan probably foresaw that unless he could destroy these liquors,
with which the city was filled, his men would become entirely
disorganized, and the Spaniards, falling upon the drunken rabble, would
easily cut them to pieces. He could not destroy liquors before the eyes
of the pirates, for they would not permit it.

He set fire to the city in various quarters, carefully spreading the
report that the conflagration was kindled by the Spaniards themselves.
The fire spread with such rapidity that, in a few hours, nearly all of
the business portion was laid in ashes. Most of the humbler buildings
were of wood, with thatched roofs. They burned like tinder. Two hundred
stores, with all their contents, were destroyed. The Genoese Warehouses
were burned. There were many poor slaves imprisoned in them. They were
consumed by the all-devouring flames.

This energetic commander, as pitiless as any beast which ever howled
in the jungle, had accomplished his purpose. His troops were driven out
of the flaming streets into the fields, and there they were compelled
to encamp. These wretched men, satiated with gluttony, drunkenness,
and debauchery, began now to awake, with new eagerness, to their old
passion for plunder.

Four vessels were dispatched to visit the islands and to cruise along
the coast in both directions. One hundred and sixty men were sent back
to Chagres to convey supplies to the troops in garrison there, and
to inform them of the great victory. Daily companies of two hundred
men, one party relieving another, were sent out to explore the region
around. They returned every night with a group of pale and trembling
prisoners, and with mules laden with treasure. These unhappy captives
were tortured to compel them to reveal where treasure, of which they
knew nothing, was concealed. The father, the mother, the maiden
daughter, and the child were alike stretched on the bed of torture.
Neither innocence, beauty, nor virtue afforded the female captive any
protection.

A pauper Spaniard, not much more than half-witted, wandered, during
the confusion, into a rich man’s house, stripped off his rags, and
clothed himself in costly linen with breeches of bright red taffeta
and a coat of silk velvet. As he was foolishly strutting about admiring
his finery, the pirates broke in, and seized him as their prize. They
believed, or assumed to believe, that he was the master of the house,
and demanded that he should inform them where he had concealed his
treasure.

In vain he pointed to his rags and protested, by all the saints, that
he had lived upon charity. There was nothing he could reveal. These
cruel men stretched him on the rack. They dislocated his joints. They
twisted a cord around his forehead, “till his eyes appeared as big as
eggs, and were ready to fall out.” They hung him up by the thumbs and
scourged him. They cut off his nose and ears and singed his face with
blazing straw. Then with the thrusts of their lances they put him to
death.

“After this execrable manner,” writes Esquemeling, “did many others
of these miserable prisoners finish their days; the common sport and
recreation of these pirates being these, and other tragedies not
inferior to these.”

CHAPTER XXII.

_The Return from Panama._

  Return of the Explorers.--The Beautiful Captive.--Sympathy
  in her behalf.--Embarrassments of Morgan.--Inflexible Virtue
  of the Captive.--The Conspiracy.--Efficiency of Morgan.--His
  Obduracy.--The Search of the Pirates.--The Return March.--Morgan
  Cheats the Pirates.--Runs Away.

The vessels which Morgan sent out to the islands, and to cruise along
the shore, all returned within about eight days. They came laden with
merchandise and with captives. The fate of the female captives was
dreadful. In this treatment none of the men were worse than Morgan
himself. In one of the shiploads of captives there was a Spanish lady
of exquisite beauty. She was quite young, and the wife of a wealthy
merchant, then absent in Peru. She is described by both Esquemeling and
Oexemelin as a lady endowed with such loveliness as is rarely seen upon
earth. Esquemeling writes:

“Her years were few, and her beauty so great as, peradventure, I may
doubt whether, in all Christendom any could be found to surpass her
perfections, either of comeliness or honesty.”

Oexemelin gives a more detailed account of her charms. He says that her
hair was in glossy, silken ringlets of jet black. Though a brunette,
her complexion was of dazzling purity. Her large, lustrous black
eyes beamed with a peculiar expression of tenderness, which won the
admiration of all who beheld her. The roughest pirates were subdued and
softened by her presence. To them she presented almost the image of the
Virgin Mary, and they regarded her charms as angelic.

The moment Morgan cast his eyes upon her he was overawed and captivated
by her beauty, and was inspired with the most intense desire to win her
love. Others had been his slaves, subject to his brutal will. But this
lady, with her beauty, her grace, her accomplishments, her virtue, so
far vanquished him, that he could not approach her but as a suppliant
for her favor.

Love, the essence of the deity, is, under some circumstances, in its
legitimate bearing, the most purifying of influences. Under other
circumstances it is the most debasing and brutalizing of passions.
It was observed that the demeanor of Morgan became quite changed. He
became more social, more gentle, and was particularly attentive to his
dress, clothing himself in his richest attire. He ordered his beautiful
captive to be separated from the other prisoners, appointed a negress
to wait upon her, sent her delicate viands from his own table, and
treated her, in all respects, with the greatest consideration. The
negress was instructed to do everything in her power to convince the
captive lady that her captor was not a beast and a heretic, as she had
been taught to believe, but a gentleman, and a Christian, a man of
polished manners and cultivated mind. Esquemeling writes:

“This lady had formerly heard strange reports concerning the pirates,
before their arrival at Panama, as if they were not men, but heretics,
who did neither invoke the blessed Trinity, nor believe in Jesus
Christ. But now she began to have better thoughts of them than ever
before, having experienced the manifold civilities of Captain Morgan;
especially as she heard him many times swear by the name of God and of
Jesus Christ, in whom she had been persuaded that they did not believe.

“Neither did she now think them to be so bad, or to have the shapes
of beasts, as she had often heard. For as to the names of robbers or
thieves, which was commonly given them, she wondered not much at it,
seeing, as she said, that among all nations there were to be found some
wicked men who naturally coveted to possess the goods of others.”

Morgan visited the lady with smiles and bows and costly presents.
He flooded her chamber with robes, jewels, and perfumes. She was not
deceived. And when he ventured to propose that she should abandon her
husband, and become virtually his wife, and accompany him to the home
of splendor with which he would provide her, she repelled him with
indignation and loathing. Replying to him with all the eloquence of
impassioned innocence, she said:

“Sir, my life is in your hands. But sooner shall my soul be separated
from my body than I will surrender myself to your demands.”

This repulse stirred up the rage of the infamous pirate. He stripped
her of her rich attire, left her only the coarsest garments, and threw
her into a dark and loathsome dungeon. She was supplied with only
enough food to support life. By these brutalities he hoped to break her
spirit, and to compel her to acquiesce in his wishes.

Even demons can appreciate true nobility of character. The beauty and
virtues of this lady had won, in some degree, the sympathy of the
vilest of these wretches. Morgan could not conceal his treatment from
them. They began to murmur, to denounce him, to curse him as a brute.

“I myself,” says Esquemeling, “was an eye-witness of the lady’s
sufferings, and could never have believed that such constancy and
virtue could have been found in the world, had I not been assured
thereof by my own eyes and ears.”

Morgan became alarmed by the threatening aspect assumed by his men.
Various causes had been for some time undermining his authority. He
knew full well that there was not one of these desperadoes who would
hesitate, for one moment, to thrust a poniard into his heart, or to
pierce his brain with a bullet. These pirates were all consummate
villains. There was no sense of honor among them. There was no crime
from which they would shrink did they deem it for their interest to
commit it. Even their sympathy for the beautiful captive lady resolved
itself mainly into jealousy of the captain. Had they seized her
unprotected in the halls of a nunnery, she would have experienced no
mercy whatever at their hands.

The pirates, flushed with their great victory, and the vast amount of
wealth, of every kind, at their disposal, had formed a conspiracy, in
which more than a hundred were implicated. Their plan was to get rid of
Morgan, then to seize one of the islands in the neighborhood as their
rendezvous, and to make it their stronghold. With the vessels they
already had, and the ships they would soon capture, they would have an
invincible fleet. Then they would sweep the Pacific Ocean, and ravage
all the coasts of Chili and Peru. After they had acquired sufficient
plunder to make them all millionnaires, they would return to Europe,
by the way of the East Indies, picking up ships by the way, and would
then disperse to seek new homes and riot in luxury for the remainder of
their days.

In preparation for this movement they had secreted several of the large
guns of the town and an ample store of ammunition. But Morgan was equal
to this emergency. One of the conspirators betrayed the rest. The first
intimation the conspirators had that their design was discovered was in
seeing every vessel and boat in the harbor in flames. Every piece of
artillery in the place was spiked. Thus they were entirely frustrated
in their plan. Orders were then given to pack the mules with treasure,
and to make immediate preparation to return to Chagres.

The plunder of Panama had not yet been divided. Though every pirate
had taken the most solemn oath that all the booty should be thrown
into common stock, and that he would not secrete anything, no one had
any confidence in the oath of another. Morgan ordered every man to
be searched, from the crown of his head to the soles of his shoes.
Though Morgan himself submitted to be first searched, they were all
exasperated by this. Every man was compelled to discharge his musket
to prove that no jewels were hidden in its barrel.

The French portion of the pirates were especially enraged against
Morgan. Many oaths were uttered that they would put him to death before
they reached Jamaica. In a few days all the treasure was packed in
convenient bales, and placed upon the backs of the mules. The church
plate was beaten into shapeless lumps for more convenient stowage.
The treasure which could not be removed they wantonly destroyed. One
hundred and fifty men were sent to Chagres to bring the boats as far up
the river as the stream was navigable. He informed the prisoners that
he should take all, as slaves, to Jamaica, who did not, through their
friends, obtain an ample ransom.

For the ransom of his beautiful captive, from whom he now rather
desired to be relieved, he demanded thirty thousand dollars. Two of
the ecclesiastics were permitted to go to her friends to obtain this
money. It was immediately furnished them. They returned with it, and
treacherously, instead of ransoming her, employed the money for the
ransom of their own particular friends.

This treachery was known throughout the army. Even the pirates
denounced it. The murmurs in the camp were so loud, that Morgan was
compelled to heed them, and he gave the lady her liberty.

On the morning of the 24th of February, 1671, these robbers set out on
their return to Chagres. Many of the captive women implored Captain
Morgan, upon their knees, with loud lamentations, to permit them to
remain with their husbands and their children. Unfeelingly he replied:

“I did not come here to listen to the cries of women, but to obtain
money. Bring me money, and you shall be released. If you do not, you
shall surely go to Jamaica.”

“When the march began,” writes Esquemeling, “those lamentable cries and
shrieks were renewed, insomuch that it would have caused compassion in
the hardest heart to hear them. But Captain Morgan, as a man little
given to mercy, was not moved therewith in the least.”

The line of march was as before. First there were scouts a quarter of a
mile in advance of the troops. Then followed the advance guard in great
strength. The prisoners came next, with the heavily laden mules. The
remainder of the pirates formed the rear guard. They goaded forward the
fainting, tottering, despairing captives with push of javelin and prick
of sabre.

When they reached the blackened ruins of the town of Cruz, which was
at the head of boat navigation, the mules were unloaded, and their
burdens were placed in the canoes. There was a necessary delay here
of several days, and quite a number of the prisoners, who had written
agonizing letters to their friends, received their money and paid their
ransom. Morgan still had with him many woe-stricken Spaniards, and one
hundred and fifty negro slaves. These last he deemed cash articles, for
they would bring the money in any of the ports of the West Indies.

From Cruz the pirates advanced in two parties, one in the boats, and
another on the land. Chagres was reached without any event occurring
of special importance. Immediately after his arrival, Morgan, with his
characteristic energy, sent some of his prisoners to the important town
of Puerto Velo, frequently called Puerto Bello, with the announcement
that if the citizens did not forthwith send him a large ransom, he
would utterly demolish the castle and lay all the works there in ruins.
As Chagres was the all-important port of entry for the whole province,
he thought that this threat would bring the money. They, however, paid
no heed to it.

The booty was now divided. The pirates were bitterly disappointed
in finding that the whole estimated value amounted to but about two
million dollars. Probably ten times that sum, which they could not
remove, had been destroyed in their rapacity. Every man had expected
at least ten thousand dollars. When they found that but one thousand
was their share they were greatly enraged. This pittance was scarcely
sufficient for the carouse of a single week.

Loud and threatening murmurs rose from nearly all lips. They accused
Morgan of cheating them. The consummate knave with great adroitness had
done so. Many of his men had conspired against him. With far greater
ability he was now conspiring against them. He had taken a few into
his confidence to share the spoil which they were to steal from the
rest. The common sailors had no idea of the value of diamonds and other
precious stones. His partisans bought them up at not one hundredth part
of their real value. Massive bars of gold were easily concealed.

Morgan endeavored to engross the attention of his men in plundering,
burning, and destroying Chagres. While apparently his whole force,
in the delirium of intoxication, were engaged in this work, Morgan
and his accomplices repaired on board the ships, quietly in the night
weighed anchor, and taking advantage of a fair wind, before the morning
were out of sight with all their treasure. Their dupes, consisting
of nearly one-half of the piratic crew, were left on the shore amid
the ruins, without food, without a boat, without shelter, in utter
destitution. What ultimately became of them is not known. Probably some
starved; some were shot by the Spaniards; some were caught and hung.
“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”

We have no more details respecting the final career of this very able,
sagacious, and infamous man. We simply know that he reached Jamaica in
possession of an immense fortune. There he was honored as one of the
great men of his age. Charles II., King of England, whose accomplice
he is said to have been in his piracies, rewarded him for his
achievements, appointed him governor of the island, and conferred upon
him the honors of a baronetcy. We know not when he died. But we do know
that, however Sir Henry Morgan may have escaped the penalty of his sins
in this world, he has long ago appeared before the tribunal of that God
“who will render to every man according to his deeds.”

CHAPTER XXIII.

_Montbar the Fanatic._

  Partial Solution of a Mystery.--Montbar’s Birth.--His Education
  and Delusions.--Anecdote of the Dramatic Performance.--Montbar
  Runs Away from Home.--Enters the Navy.--His Ferocious
  Exploits.--Joins the Buccaneers.--Desperate Battles on the Land
  and on the Sea.--His Final Disappearance.

In reading the narrative of the cruelties practised by the pirates upon
the Spaniards, the mind is often oppressed with the thought that a God
of infinite love and power should have allowed such scenes to have
been enacted. There is nothing conceivable, in intense and protracted
torture, which was not inflicted upon men, women, and children. There
is no satisfactory explanation of this great mystery of earth. Still
there are considerations which may perhaps point in the direction of a
solution.

The pirates seem to have been permitted to revenge upon the Spaniards
the awful sufferings which they had inflicted upon the Indians. The
Spanish armies of Cortez and Pizarro ravaged the homes of the innocent
native inhabitants of those countries with ferocity and cruelty which
Satan and his legions could not possibly have surpassed. The Spaniards
had thrown the Indian into the flames of the most awful misery. And
then God allowed the pirate to throw the Spaniard into the same flames.

There was a celebrated pirate by the name of Montbar, who seemed to
have been inspired with fanatical frenzy approaching maniacal fury
against the whole Spanish nation. He was the child of one of the most
opulent and respected families in Languedoc, in France. He had received
all the advantages of education which wealth could afford. In the
process of this education he had read the account of the atrocities
practised by the Spaniards in their conquest of the islands and the
continents of the New World.

The blood of this ardent young man seemed to boil in his veins, while
pondering these fiend-like crimes. As a child he brooded over these
tortures until he became almost insane. Soon he devoted himself to all
martial exercises, that he might avenge the wrongs of the Indians.
This generous but cruel determination grew rapidly into monomania. The
animal forces of a mind of unusual energy were all concentrated in
this direction. Revenge for the wrongs practised upon the Cubans, the
Peruvians, the Mexicans occupied his thoughts by day and his dreams by
night. This became the all-absorbing passion of his soul.

Even when a child, practising with his cross-bow, he said, “I wish to
shoot well, only that I may know how to kill the Spaniards.” George W.
Thornbury, in his sketch of this singular man, alluding to the Spanish
enormities in the New World, writes:

“Fanaticism, avarice, and ambition had ruled like a trinity of devils,
over the beautiful regions desolated and plague-smitten by the
Spaniards. Whole nations had become extinct. The name of Christ was
polluted into the mere cipher of an armed and aggressive commerce.
These books had impressed the gloomy boy with a deep, absorbing,
fanatical hatred of the conquerors, and a fierce pity for the conquered.

“He believed himself marked out by God, as the Gideon sent to
their relief. Dreams of riches and gratified ambition spurred him
unconsciously to the task. He thought and dreamed of nothing but the
murdered Indians. He inquired eagerly from travellers for news from
America, and testified prodigious and ungovernable joy when he heard
that the Spaniards had been defeated by the Caribs and the Bravos.

“He indeed knew by heart every deed of atrocity that history recorded
of his enemies, and would dilate upon each one, with a rude and
impatient eloquence. The following story he was frequently accustomed
to relate, and to gloat over with a look that indicated a mind capable
of even greater cruelty, if once led away by a fanatic spirit of
retaliation.

“‘A Spaniard’ the story ran, ‘was once upon a time appointed governor
of an Indian province, which was inhabited by a fierce and warlike race
of savages. He proved a cruel governor, unforgiving in his resentments,
and insatiable in his avarice. The Indians, unable any longer to endure
either his barbarities or his exactions, seized him, and showing him
gold, told him that they had at last been able, by great good luck,
to find enough to satisfy his demands. They then held him firm, and
melting the ore, poured it down his throat, till he expired in torments
under their hands.’”

The peculiarities of this young man were singularly exhibited on one
occasion, which showed that his mental operations were so deranged
that he could not calmly reflect upon anything connected with the
Spanish nation. At one of the college exhibitions, a comedy was to be
enacted by the students, in which Montbar was to take a part. During
the performance there was a dialogue to take place between a Spaniard
and a Frenchman. Montbar represented the Frenchman, and one of his
companions the Spaniard.

The Spaniard appeared first upon the stage, and began to utter a
tirade of extravagancies against France, denouncing and ridiculing the
French in unmeasured terms. Montbar listened, with ever-increasing
excitement, until he lost all self-control. The mimic scene in his mind
became a reality. In a perfect fury he broke upon the stage; assailed
the representative Spaniard like a maniac; called him a liar and a
murderer; knocked him down, and would inevitably have killed him, had
he not been dragged away by the terrified bystanders.

The boy developed a very active and powerful mind, and his wealthy
father was very proud of him. His eccentricities did not alarm him,
as he thought that contact with the world would soon remove them all.
He wished his son to study some profession. But Montbar insisted upon
entering the army. “I wish to learn to fight,” said he, “that I may
kill the Spaniards.”

As his friends opposed his entering the army, he ran away from home,
and found his way to Havre. Here he had an uncle who was in command
of one of the king’s ships. France was then at war with Spain. The
ship was just entering upon a cruise against the Spaniards. The uncle,
pleased with the enthusiasm of the boy, and with the intensity of his
desire to join the expedition, wrote to the father, and obtained his
reluctant consent. In a few days the ship sailed.

The young fanatic kept a constant watch for the foe, evincing the most
intense eagerness for an engagement. The moment any sail appeared, he
armed himself, and seemed overjoyed with the thought that he might soon
wreak vengeance on the Spaniards. At length, a Spanish ship appeared.
Soon they met and exchanged broadsides. Montbar was quite intoxicated
with joy. He was perfectly reckless. Not a thought of danger entered
his mind. When the order was given to board, Montbar, sabre in hand,
led the party, and was the first to leap on board the Spanish ship.
He seemed to bear a charmed life, and to be endowed with herculean
strength. He sought no assistance from his comrades, but plunged into
the thickest of the enemy, hewing on his right hand and his left, with
marvellous strength. Twice he rushed from end to end of the vessel,
mowing down all who opposed him. He would give no quarter.

The Spaniards were overpowered. Their slaughter was awful. Montbar,
dreaming that he was God’s appointed minister of vengeance, was in an
ecstasy of exultation, as he cut down some, ran his sabre through the
heart of others, and drove others into the sea. His spirit inspired the
rest. Nearly every Spaniard was killed. His uncle succeeded in saving
one or two.

The prize was found to be of immense value. The hold was crammed with
riches. There was one casket of diamonds of almost priceless worth.
While the captain and the crew were examining these treasures, and
rejoicing over them, Montbar regarded them with entire indifference. He
was counting the dead. Blood, not plunder, was what his soul craved.

As there was now war between France and Spain, the French buccaneers,
even when acting without any formal commission, were regarded by the
Government as engaged in legitimate warfare. The buccaneers of England,
robbing Spanish commerce and Spanish colonies, were encouraged and
aided by the French navy. The conflict we have described took place
near the shores of St. Domingo. Montbar’s uncle learned, from his
prisoners, that the ship he had captured had been separated by a storm
from two others, and that they were bound to Port Margot on the island.

He immediately sailed to the vicinity of that port, where he kept
watch. The vessel he had captured was used as a decoy. He placed French
soldiers on board, unfurled the flag of Spain, and stood off and on,
waiting the arrival of the two vessels. While thus on the watch, some
buccaneers, from the shore, came on board in canoes, with provisions to
sell. They had been wrecked upon the coast; and while a part of their
number had been at a distance from the camp hunting, the Spaniards had
fallen upon them, put them to flight, and plundered their stores.

“Why do you suffer this?” exclaimed Montbar, indignantly.

“We do not mean to suffer it,” they replied. “We know what the
Spaniards are, and what our power is. We are collecting our forces, and
will soon take signal vengeance upon them.”

“Let me go with you,” said Montbar. “I do not ask to be your leader,
but I will go at your head. I will be the first to expose myself, and
will show you how I can fight these accursed Spaniards.”

Gladly they accepted his offer. His ardor and energy inspired them with
great confidence in him. His uncle very reluctantly allowed him to
go, cursing him as a foolish, hair-brained madcap, ever eager to push
his head into danger. Yet the uncle was very proud of him. As young
Montbar descended the side of the ship into a canoe, the captain said
exultingly to one at his side, “There goes as brave a lad as ever trod
a plank.”

The buccaneers returned to their camp, and immediately, in a strong
war-party, set out in search of the Spaniards. They threaded intricate
paths through the woods, until they opened upon a small treeless
prairie, which they called a savanna. Just before entering this field,
which was surrounded by hills and woods, they saw, in the distance, a
mounted party of Spaniards who were evidently on the march to attack
them.

Montbar was transported with rage at the sight of the Spaniards. He
was ready, single-handed, to rush upon them at once--he alone, against
several hundred, regardless whether the others followed him or not. But
an old, experienced buccaneer, who led the party, held him back.

“Stop,” said he; “there is plenty of time. If you do as I tell you, not
one of those fellows shall escape.”

These words, “Not one of those fellows shall escape,” arrested the
impetuous young man. The buccaneers halted, pretending not to have
seen the Spaniards. They allowed one or two of their number to exhibit
themselves, as if belonging to a hunting party. They then pitched their
tent of linen, apparently entirely unconscious that they were near
any foe. Drawing out their brandy-flasks, they feigned a great revel,
singing songs, shouting, and passing the flasks from one to another, as
if in the wildest of drunken bouts. This was done by a small portion of
the company, while most of the buccaneers were hidden in ambush.

The Spaniards, having secreted themselves, watched all these movements.
They supposed that the buccaneers, stupefied with drink, would ere long
fall helplessly asleep. The Spaniards would then creep cautiously upon
them, and kill them all. But the cunning old buccaneer had taken good
care that the brandy-flasks should all be empty. Not a single drop of
intoxicating drink had the feigned revellers taken.

As soon as darkness veiled the scene the buccaneers all assembled in
ambuscade, anticipating a midnight attack. Every musket was in order,
and their brains were cool and uninflamed with drink. The Spaniards
delayed their attack until daylight. As the hours lingered away,
Montbar was restless, and chafed like a caged lion, saying that they
would never come, and imploring permission to march out and attack them.

At daybreak the buccaneers discerned a dark line moving noiselessly
over the ridge, and descending into the plain. They knew full well what
this meant. Every movement was watched by the ambushed buccaneers.
Cautiously the Spaniards advanced. They crossed the prairie, and
entered the forest, intending to encircle the tent, which they supposed
held the sleeping buccaneers.

Suddenly the woods seemed to burst into volcanic flame. The report of
the musketry was followed with shout and yell, and the storm of lead
swept through the ranks of the Spaniards, striking down scores, either
in death or grievously wounded. The buccaneers rushed instantaneously
upon their bewildered, staggered, bleeding foe. Montbar seemed
animated by demonaical frenzy. He rushed upon the Spaniards in utter
recklessness, regardless of their numbers, or of the support he should
receive from his comrades. His heavy sabre flashed in all directions,
as if wielded by tireless sinews of steel.

Soon he was quite in advance of his companions, and was alone in the
very thickest of the Spanish squadron. He would inevitably have been
cut down, had not the other buccaneers, astonished at his audacity,
rushed to his rescue. Montbar’s sword was dripping with blood. He
was in a frenzy of joy. Every blow he struck cut down a Spaniard. He
exulted in the carnage, and ever after declared that this was the
happiest day of his life. One grounded Spaniard clung to his knee
begging for mercy. Montbar brought down his sabre upon his head,
splitting it from crown to chin, fiercely exclaiming, “I wish that you
were the last of this accursed race.” An eye-witness of the battle
describes the carnage as horrible. Nearly every Spaniard was destroyed.
The victors, all absorbed in their bloody work, stumbled over the dying
and the dead, deaf to every cry for mercy.

The buccaneers were astonished and delighted by the prowess which
Montbar had displayed. They entreated him to remain and become their
captain. But a signal gun, fired by his uncle, called him back to the
ship. Montbar was placed as captain on board the large ship which his
uncle had captured. Many of the pirates eagerly engaged to serve under
him.

After a sail of eight days these two vessels encountered four Spanish
war-ships, each one larger than either of those commanded by Montbar
or his uncle. One of the most desperate of naval battles ensued. The
elder Montbar was attacked by two of the ships. For three hours they
struggled, grappled together, receiving and giving the most terrible
broadsides. At last the three sank together in one watery grave. The
uncle, it is said, rejoicing to drag the two other ships with him, went
down laughing.

Montbar, with his crashing shot, succeeded at length in sinking
one of the ships assailing him, and then he boarded the other. The
terror-stricken crew threw themselves into the water. The floating
bodies presented targets for the buccaneers. No quarter was shown.
Montbar rushed up and down the decks killing all he could reach. His
courage and accomplishments were so marvellous, that his comrades
regarded him with superstitious reverence, as endowed with more than
mortal powers. He himself ever averred that he was God’s appointed
messenger, to avenge the wrongs the Spaniards had inflicted upon the
Indians. It is not known that a single individual escaped from these
four Spanish ships.

Montbar had now two vessels at his command. He engaged many other
buccaneers in his service, and soon had an army of nearly eight
hundred men ready to follow him to the death. He swept the seas, and,
often landing, ravaged the coasts. We have no detailed account of his
subsequent career. One of his biographers writes:

“And this completes all that history has preserved of one of
the strangest combinations of fanatic and soldier that has ever
appeared since the days of Loyola. In another age, and under other
circumstances, he might have been a second Mohammed. Equally
remorseless, his ambition, though narrower, seems to have been no less
fervid. If he was cruel, we must allow him to have been sincere even in
his fanaticism. Daring, untiring, of unequalled courage and unmatched
resolution, the cruelty of the Spaniards he put down by greater
cruelty. He passes from us into unknown seas, and we hear of him no
more. He died probably unconscious of crime, unpitying and unpitied.

“Oexemelin, who saw Montbar at Honduras, describes him as active,
vivacious, and full of fire, like all the Gascons. He was of tall
stature, erect and firm, his air grand, noble, martial. His complexion
was sunburnt, and the color of his eyes could not be discerned under
the deep, arched vaulting of his bushy eyebrows. His very glance in
battle was said to intimidate the Spaniards, and to drive them to
despair.”

Transcriber’s note:

Punctuation has been standardised. Changes to the original publication
have been made as follows:

  Pages v and 29
    William Kidd, the New York Merchant _changed to_
    William Kidd, the New-York Merchant

  Page 19
    was a broad crimsom sash _changed to_
    was a broad crimson sash

  Page 20
    queen, with charteristic tartness _changed to_
    queen, with characteristic tartness

  Page 26
    turning upon his heel, said contemptously _changed to_
    turning upon his heel, said contemptuously

  Page 38
    of February, 1666, that Captain Kidd _changed to_
    of February, 1696, that Captain Kidd

  Page 89
    taken sick and died in New-York _changed to_
    taken sick and died in New York

  Page 105
    dividing into two partions _changed to_
    dividing into two parties

  Page 107
    employed skilled seaman to manage the ship _changed to_
    employed a skilled seaman to manage the ship

  Page 170
    The Carousal; and the New Enterprise _changed to_
    the Carousal; and the New Enterprise

  Page 182
    coast to render such asssistance _changed to_
    coast to render such assistance

  Page 183
    they threatented with instant _changed to_
    they threatened with instant

  Page 187
    mouth of the great river of Gautemala _changed to_
    mouth of the great river of Guatemala

  Page 192
    was inhabitated by a very fierce tribe _changed to_
    was inhabited by a very fierce tribe

  Page 201
    Mary Read and Ann Bonny _changed to_
    Mary Read and Anne Bonny

  Page 204
    week for its maintainance _changed to_
    week for its maintenance

  Page 222
    dying an ignominous death _changed to_
    dying an ignominious death

  Page 242
    repel an asault from the land _changed to_
    repel an assault from the land

  Page 252
    expressive of his astonishmeut _changed to_
    expressive of his astonishment

  Page 315
    They roof was instantly _changed to_
    The roof was instantly

  Page 358
    bought them up at not one hundreth _changed to_
    bought them up at not one hundredth