CHAPTER XX

HOW MORGAN KEPT HIS PROMISE

When Morgan sent his pistol and his bullets to the viceroy of Panama with word that he would call for them in person within the twelvemonth, it is doubtful if he dreamed of doing so. But there is many a true word spoken in jest, and Harry Morgan was ever fond of jesting—in earnest. While pressing matters delayed him elsewhere and the twelve months passed without his appearance at Panama (for which, no doubt, the viceroy gave fervid thanks to his saints), yet all too soon for the Dons he kept his half-joking promise to the letter.

Having established his reputation as a buccaneer leader by the successful if not very remunerative attack on Puerto Principe, Morgan proceeded to equip a fleet and recruit men for a still greater coup, which was nothing less than a descent upon Maracaibo. Never in the history of this unfortunate town, which had been repeatedly ravished by pirates, were such cruelties and inhumanities practised as by Morgan and his ruffians. Even Lolonais, who had been there, could not invent atrocities so fiendish as those devised and put into execution by the British buccaneer, and when at last he sailed away he left the place fairly heaped with burned, racked, broken, and dying men and women.

But so successful had he been, so cleverly had he outwitted the Spanish fleet sent to block his exit from the Lake of Maracaibo, and so complete had been his victory over the Spanish ships of war that his prestige was enormously increased, and he at once began to plan greater deeds.

Compared with the plan Morgan now had in mind, his former exploits had been mere bagatelles, for his intention was to gather together the most tremendous pirate fleet ever assembled and with it attack Vera Cruz, Cartagena, or Panama. All three were marvelously rich towns, and all three were heavily fortified. While Panama promised by far the greatest loot, yet the difficulties to be overcome in taking it seemed well-nigh insurmountable.

Although, as Esquemelling mentions, Morgan’s name and fame were enough to bring him more men and ships than he could employ, still, to make sure of gathering a large enough force, Morgan sent letters to “all the ancient and expert pirates inhabiting Tortuga,” to the half-wild hunters and planters of Haiti, and to the rascals on Trade Wind Cay. In ships, canoes, and boats the buccaneers came, responding to his summons from far and near, even traversing the forests of Hispaniola on foot, until on October 24, 1670, the army of cutthroats was assembled.

To provision his expedition, Morgan despatched four ships to Rio de la Hacha, where the crews sacked the town, tortured the inhabitants, and secured four thousand bushels of maize. In the meantime, his men had been busy hunting, and thus thoroughly provisioned, with bucanned meat and corn, the fleet set sail from La Vaca Island, and at Cape Tiburon, Haiti, met those who were coming from Jamaica.

The fleet now numbered thirty-seven ships, the largest of which was Morgan’s, mounting twenty-two large and six small guns, while the smallest vessel carried four. Never in the annals of piracy had such a fleet been seen, and with two thousand fighting fiends, in addition to the sailors, Morgan felt confident that he could take any city of the Spanish Main.

When the other captains were summoned to a council and lots were drawn to decide their objective, the choice fell upon Panama. So dangerous did the pirates consider this adventure that the usual accident insurance to be paid for loss of limbs, eyes, et cetera, was greatly increased, fifteen hundred pieces of eight being adjudged right for the loss of both legs, eighteen hundred for the loss of both hands, six hundred for either leg, the same for a hand, and one hundred pieces of eight for an eye. In addition, heavy rewards were offered for special acts of bravery, and the usual bonuses of the officers were increased.

All this being arranged, the flotilla set sail, but Morgan had no mind to leave an enemy in his rear and decided first to attack and conquer Old Providence (St. Catherine). Not only would this leave a way clear for his retreat, but, in addition, he well knew that countless outlaws and bandits were deported to this island from Panama and that these scoundrels would serve him well as guides.

So great was Morgan’s fame by now that the governor of Old Providence made no show of resistance,—although the place was heavily fortified and well garrisoned,—and offered to surrender provided Morgan would enter into a scheme by which his Excellency might save his face, and his neck as well. This was nothing more nor less than for Morgan to make a sham attack which the governor would pretend to resist. The scheme was carried out; the island fell into the buccaneers’ hands without a real blow being struck, and the pirates at once proceeded to rob the people. They destroyed the forts, spiked the guns, and secured thirty thousand pounds of powder, vast amounts of ammunition, and several hundred muskets.

As Morgan had foreseen, there were outlawed bandits on the island, and three of these gladly offered to join his ranks. The next step in the game was in a way the most difficult of all, for in order to reach Panama or to ascend the Chagres River it was necessary to silence Fort San Lorenzo at the river’s mouth, a fortification which was considered absolutely impregnable and had been strengthened and more heavily armed since the capture of Porto Bello two years previously.

Making the excuse that if he sent his entire fleet the Dons would suspect his designs upon Panama, but unquestionably in reality preferring not to risk his own precious life in the taking of a place which would yield no loot, Morgan sent four ships with four hundred men under charge of Captain Brodely (one of the “ancient and expert pirates” referred to by Esquemelling), with orders to take San Lorenzo.

Although all the credit for this spectacularly daring and almost hopeless task is always given to Morgan, he actually had no hand in it, but waited in safety at St. Catherine, enjoying good wine and excellent food while Brodely took all the risks and paved the way for the descent upon Panama.

Never in all their savage conflicts did the pirates do harder and more desperate fighting than that at San Lorenzo. We are so accustomed to hearing of the buccaneers’ uninterrupted victories that we have come to think that the Spaniards were cravens, and that they offered little resistance to their enemies. But this is a great mistake. Even the buccaneers freely acknowledged the courage, the determination, and the valor of the Spanish troops. In every case, with the exception of the treacherous surrender of Old Providence by its governor, the Spaniards fought like furies, and in nearly every battle they performed feats of bravery that won the greatest admiration and praise from the pirates. But they were always taken by surprise, were always at a disadvantage, and they were not the adepts at hand-to-hand fighting that the buccaneers were.

Never before had the pirates been so hard put to it as in the taking of the massive fort that guarded the entrance to the Chagres. For an entire night and the following day the battle raged, and when at last the fort was in the hands of the buccaneers they found but thirty men remaining of the three hundred and fourteen who had formed its garrison, and not one officer was left alive. Indeed, many of the Spaniards, finding the place was about to fall, cast themselves from the parapets into the river, or upon the rocks at the base of the cliffs, rather than surrender to the hated English.

And had it not been for a mere accident it is questionable if the pirates could have won the day. For hours they had made not the least headway, for outside of the fortress proper were heavy palisades of stakes set in double rows and filled between with earth, and so galling was the fire from the soldiers that, try as they might, the attacking force could not approach these to set them afire or pull them down. But during an assault an arrow from the fort struck one of the pirates in the back and passed completely through his body.

With a curse the fellow dragged the arrow from the wound, wrapped a bit of rag about it, rammed it down his musket, and fired it at the Spaniards. Mad with pain as he was, his only thought was to use the first missile that came to hand, but his act won the day for the buccaneers. The cotton cloth, catching fire from the powder, dropped upon the tinder-like thatch of a house within the fort, and in an instant it was in flames. Close at hand was a great quantity of powder, and ere the Dons realized what had occurred there was a terrific explosion which killed many of the soldiers, dismounted several cannon, and caused consternation and confusion among the defenders of the fort. Taking advantage of this, the pirates rushed the works, fired and pulled down the palisades, and clambering across the moat, which was filled with the earth falling from between the palisades, gained the interior of the fortress.

But the fight was by no means over. Inch by inch the Spaniards contested the pirates’ advance, fighting furiously with swords, pistols, and even sticks and stones, while others sought desperately to extinguish the fire now raging within the castle. Although the buccaneers had made the breach and had entered the inner fortifications soon after midnight, yet they had gained not a dozen yards at noon on the following day, and back and forth the battle raged, first one side, then the other, gaining an advantage, while dead and wounded fell on every hand, and Dons and Britons were piled deep in bloody heaps. Soon after noon, however, the pirates gained a breach where the Spanish governor himself with a company of picked corps de garde was stationed, and after desperate hand-to-hand fighting the brave governor fell with a musket ball through his brain.

Demoralized by the death of their leader, the corps de garde surrendered, when, to their amazement, the pirates found that, besides these twenty-five picked men, only five Spaniards remained alive and that of the thirty survivors more than twenty were seriously wounded.

The pirates also had lost heavily; in fact, their losses were the greatest they had ever suffered in an attack, for over one hundred men had been killed, and more than seventy were seriously wounded.

Forcing the captured Spaniards to cast the dead bodies over the walls into the river, the victorious pirates then shut the wounded men and the few women into the stone church above the fort and proceeded to repair the damages, after sending word of the victory to Morgan.

But the leader’s plans had in a way fallen through, for he had thought to take San Lorenzo quickly and to annihilate the Dons, so that no warning of the pirates’ approach would reach Panama. Despite the ferocity of the assault, the desperate fighting, and the fact that the fortress was constantly surrounded by the buccaneers, a party of eight daring Spaniards volunteered to attempt to get through the pirates’ lines, make their way to the capital, and give warning of the enemy’s approach. It seemed an all but hopeless undertaking, but the men succeeded. They reached Panama in safety, and ere Morgan started up the river on his way across the isthmus the inhabitants knew of his coming and were preparing to meet him.

Before leaving Old Providence, en route to San Lorenzo and Panama, Morgan sacked the island, put the town and all the houses to the torch, and, leaving only the one fortress of Santa Teresa, which he garrisoned with his own men, he made prisoners of the people, placed them aboard his ships, and set sail for the Chagres. At the mouth of the river four of his ships went on the bar and were lost, among them the flag-ship, but by heroic efforts all lives were saved—with the exception of a few score of Spanish captives, who were of course of no account whatsoever in the pirates’ estimation!

Reaching captured San Lorenzo, Morgan hoisted the British colors over it (the rascal invariably committed his villainies under the British ensign), and, chaining his prisoners in gangs, he forced them to labor from dawn till dark at repairing the fortress, setting up a new palisade, and remounting the guns. He had no intention of leaving the Chagres unguarded so that a Spanish fleet could enter and bottle him up on the isthmus. Having reconditioned the fortress and garrisoned it with five hundred men, in addition to one hundred and fifty men on the ships anchored in the stream, he felt quite secure and with twelve hundred desperate pirates he and his fellows embarked in five large boats and thirty-two canoes and started up the Chagres.

At the spot called Cruz de Juan Gallego, which they reached on the second day, the company were compelled to desert their boats, for it was the middle of the dry season (January) and the river was so low that farther navigation was impossible.

Then began a journey of hardship, suffering, and dogged perseverence which is almost unparalleled. The pirates had carried few provisions, expecting to supply themselves from settlements and Indian camps on the way, but word had gone ahead of their coming, every village and camp was deserted, fields had been destroyed, and provisions taken away. Day after day they tramped on, ever rushing madly toward some clearing or group of huts, only to curse and rave when they found them deserted, surrounded by smoking, blackened gardens, and without a morsel of anything that could be eaten.

On the fourth day so ravenous had the men grown that they actually devoured their leathern wallets, in order, as Esquemelling informs us, “to afford something to the ferment of their stomachs, which was now grown so sharp that it did gnaw their very bowels, having nothing else to prey upon.” Maddened with hunger, they even fought over the scraps of leather, and their chronicler continues: “Thus they made a huge banquet upon those bags of leather, which doubtless had been more grateful unto them if divers quarrels had not arisen as to who should have the greatest share.” Indeed, they were ready for cannibalism, and Esquemelling, referring to the Spaniards they hoped to meet, says, “Whom they would certainly in that occasion have roasted or boiled to satisfy their famine.”

But neither Dons nor foodstuffs were forthcoming, and with hunger somewhat assuaged by their meal of leather they plodded wearily on, most of them bereft even of the leathern equipment to devour, while a few, who were more fortunate, had reserved a portion of their former rations. “Here again he was happy,” says their historian, “that had reserved since noon any small piece of leather whereof to make his supper.”

Furthermore, Esquemelling goes into details regarding the culinary phase of this leathern diet, evidently thinking that some future traveler on the isthmus might find it of value in preparing an evening meal. He says:

Some persons who were never out of their mothers’ kitchens may ask how these Pyrates could eat, swallow and digest these pieces of leather so hard and dry. To whom I only answer: That could they once experiment with hunger, or rather famine, is that they would certainly find the manner, by their own necessity as the Pyrates did. For these first took the leather and sliced it in pieces. Then did they beat it between two stones and rub it, often dipping it in the water of the river to render it by these means supple and tender. Lastly they scraped off the hair and roasted or broiled it upon the fire. And being thus cooked they cut it into small morsels and eat it, helping it down with frequent gulps of water, which by good fortune they had near at hand.

Evidently there was some sustenance in the dried hides, for there is no mention of any one having died of starvation, but hunger was not the only trouble with which the company met. At every turn they were beset by ambuscades; they were harassed by Indian allies of the Dons, who shot poisoned arrows from the woods and hurled down rocks in narrow defiles, until on the sixth day they discovered a cave containing two sacks of meal, a few plantains, and two jars of wine. This providential find was distributed by Morgan among the weakest men, who were put into canoes; and, heartened and encouraged, the great troop pressed on and on the following day found a store of maize in an Indian camp. On the seventh day they also captured some emaciated cats and dogs which had been deserted by the fleeing natives, and these they instantly killed and devoured. On the same day they found sixteen jars of wine which they gulped down, only to fall deathly sick as a result.

And yet not one man complained, not one thought of turning back. Ahead lay Panama and its vast treasure; and subsisting on stray dogs and cats and half-burnt corn, or going hungry, the company stumbled ever onward, until, on the ninth day after leaving San Lorenzo, they ascended a hill and saw the vast Pacific stretching to the horizon.

Filled with joy, shouting and laughing and cursing by turns, the pirates hurried down the hill and reached a vale where a herd of donkeys and horses and a few cattle were grazing. Falling upon these beasts, the pirates slaughtered them, half roasted the still quivering flesh over fires, and had their first full meal in more than a week. Esquemelling says of them:

“Such was their hunger that they more resembled cannibals than Europeans at this banquet, the blood many times running down from their beards to the middle of their bodies.”

Having finished the meal and satisfied themselves with “these delicious morsels,” the men resumed the march, and a little later they came within sight of the tower of the cathedral—that same stone tower that to-day stands alone and in ruins beside the sea. Here they pitched camp for the night and, “sounding their trumpets and drums” (which are not usually associated with pirates), prepared to attack the city at break of day. That same evening a troop of fifty cavalry approached almost within musket shot, taunted the pirates with derisive shouts, and retired to the city, leaving a few scouts to watch the enemy’s movements. Soon after this the big guns of the city began to thunder, the shots falling about the pirates’ camp but doing no damage.

The following morning the buccaneers formed in columns, sounded their trumpets, and with drums beating marched toward the doomed town, choosing a trail through the woods to avoid attacks by the cavalry. In the meantime the governor of Panama had gathered two squadrons of cavalry, four regiments of infantry, a huge herd of wild bulls, and a number of Indians and negroes to resist the invaders. Coming from the woods and looking down upon the plain, the pirates were amazed at the forces arrayed against them, and for the first time became doubtful of their success. Indeed, as their chronicler puts it: “Yea few or none there were but wished themselves at home, or at least free from the obligation of that engagement, wherein they perceived their lives must be narrowly concerned.”

But needs must when the devil drives, and the devil himself was there in the person of Morgan. Being ordered to advance, the company marched against the Dons. Fortunately for the pirates, heavy rains had rendered the ground soft and soggy, the cavalry could not manœuver, and the first squadron of two hundred pirates fired such a well-aimed volley of musketry that “the battle was instantly kindled very hot.” Although the fire was returned with vigor, and despite the Spaniards’ “valiant attempts,” the pirates succeeded in separating the various groups of soldiery and fell upon them tooth and nail. Thinking to demoralize the enemy, the Spaniards drove herds of bulls against them, but the cattle, frightened at the firing and the drums, scattered and ran away, while the few that broke through the pirates’ ranks were quickly killed and did no damage.

For two hours the battle raged, the Spanish cavalry suffering almost total annihilation. The infantry, seeing the tide of battle turning in favor of the enemy, threw down their arms and took to their heels. But the exhausted pirates, after days of suffering and hours of fierce fighting, could not follow up the advantage. They contented themselves with hunting the wounded Spaniards down, murdering them in cold blood, and capturing some priests and taking them before Morgan, who had them instantly pistoled.

From one captive captain Morgan learned by means of torture that the entire force in the city was less than three thousand, and, also discovering how the forts and guns were disposed, he planned to change his route to the city. But the pirates had not won the day without loss, though their three hundred men killed or wounded were far less than the six hundred dead and several hundred wounded among the Dons.

With their captives in the van, the pirates rushed on the town, fighting doggedly at every turn, cut down by volleys of musketry and cannon shot, mutilated by scrap-iron with which the Spaniards had charged their howitzers, and after three hours of desperate fighting and heavy loss won the low-arched bridge and poured, shouting and yelling, into the town.

Then hell broke loose in earnest. The buccaneers, mad with fighting, frenzied at the losses inflicted upon them, drunk with lust of blood, ran hither and thither, shooting, cutting, stabbing all they met; looting right and left, yelling like fiends, and ripping and tearing tapestries, hangings, and paintings from the houses.

With difficulty, and only after shooting down several of his men, Morgan succeeded in gathering them together and commanded them under threat of the most severe punishment to refrain from touching wines or liquor,—not that he had any scruples against drinking, but because he feared poison. Also, no doubt he wished to prevent his men from becoming so befuddled with drink that the Spaniards could retake the city.

This matter being settled, Morgan turned his men loose once more, and from building to building, from house to house they ran, slashing priceless furnishings, battering down doors, trampling silks and velvets underfoot, destroying, murdering, looting. From their hiding-places they dragged cowering, trembling women, and in a stream the captives and the loot were carried to Morgan.

But, as we have seen, the most valuable treasures, the gold and silver and jewels of the churches, the bulk of plate and bullion from the treasury, the greatest private fortunes, had been carried to sea, and Morgan, in a towering rage, sent vessels in chase and in his fury burned the town. In addition, he sent searching parties into the woods and these returning brought prisoners from far and near about the country-side, who were “presently put to the most exquisite tortures imaginable to make them confess both other people’s goods and their own.”

One man happened to be garbed in “taffety breeches” belonging to his master, and the pirates assumed from his raiment that he was a person of position. Moreover, he had a small silver key hanging at his belt. Questioned as to where the cabinet to which the key belonged was secreted, the poor trembling fellow declared he was a servant and knew not where his master had taken the cabinet. Instantly, Morgan had the terrified, babbling serving-man placed upon the rack and disjointed. This failed to wring from his tortured lips the secret he was supposed to know, and the pirates twisted a cord about his forehead until, as Esquemelling assures us, “his eyes appeared as big as eggs and were ready to fall from his skull.” Finding that even this had not the desired result, Morgan had him hung up, beat him almost to death, cut off his ears and nose, singed his face with burning straw, and finally had a negro run him through with a lance and put an end to his agonies.

“After this execrable manner did many others of those miserable prisoners finish their days,” says Esquemelling, and adds: “The common sport and recreation of these Pyrates being these and other tragedies not inferior.”

Sex or age made no difference. Children and women were tortured, ravished, and murdered, although when those of evident high standing and wealth were taken, they were usually put aside and kept in safety for ransom.

For three long weeks the pirates wrought their will in Panama; and then, having scraped it bare, having desolated the country about, and having secured every man and woman within reach, Morgan prepared to leave. On February 24, 1671, he evacuated the ruined town and with one hundred and seventy-five mules laden with gold, silver, and precious stones, silks and velvets, satins and brocades, and accompanied by over six hundred prisoners began his return march toward San Lorenzo and the Atlantic.

With fiendish cruelty Morgan ordered that the poor captives, most of whom were women and children, should be given barely enough food and water to keep them alive, his idea being, as our old friend Esquemelling explains, that “it would excite them more earnestly to seek money wherewith to ransom themselves according to the tax which had been set upon every one.”

Never had the great forest trees and the smiling plains looked upon a more pitiful, a more harrowing scene than that of those starved and thirsty prisoners marching under the broiling sun, urged on with curses, coarse jests, and blows; wading rivers, stumbling through muck, clad in laces and silks and high-heeled, flimsy shoes, and bare-headed. Bereft of homes and loved ones, unaccustomed to hardship, unused to walking a dozen rods, these delicate, carefully nurtured ladies were flogged like beasts, and subjected to every insult and indignity. If they dropped from hunger or exhaustion, a blow from a pirate followed; if they stumbled and fell, they were jerked to their feet by their disheveled hair. “Nothing else was heard but lamentations, cries, shrieks and doleful sighs,” said Esquemelling, and many fell by the wayside and were ruthlessly trampled underfoot or more mercifully run through with a cutlass still stained with the blood of those cut down in the city. Many of the women fell upon their knees, begging Morgan to put an end to their sufferings with death, or to let them return to the bodies of those they loved; but to all the callous brute, who was later honored by the King of England, replied that “he came not thither to hear lamentations and cries but rather to seek money.”

Though the villain was unmoved by the sights and scenes which should have melted a heart of stone, yet on that dreadful march he showed a streak of gallantry which he was known occasionally to exhibit. Among the prisoners taken at Panama was one “beautiful and virtuous lady,” a woman of wealth and refinement whom Morgan had selected for himself. But she being, as Esquemelling says, “in all respects like unto Susannah for constancy,” and having refused Morgan’s offers of pearls, gold, and money, and likewise having repulsed his amorous advances, Morgan stripped the rich garments from her back and cast her into a dungeon on a scant diet of bread and water. But so beautiful was the captive, and so brave and virtuous, that even the rough buccaneers took pity upon her, and Morgan, realizing that he had overstepped the bounds of even pirate propriety, released her and held her for ransom.

On the second day of the march this abused lady’s lamentations “now did pierce the skies,” and she declared to the two ruffians who guarded her that she had given orders to two priests to go to a certain spot and bring her ransom, that they had promised to do so, but, having secured the cash, had made use of it to ransom one of their own brotherhood. The pirate guards carried the story to Morgan, who at once halted his march, interviewed a slave who had brought the lady word of the friars’ duplicity, and even apprehended the priests and wrung a confession from them. Thereupon he placed his hand on his heart, swept the ground with his plumed hat, begged a thousand pardons of his captive beauty, set her at liberty, provided her with an armed escort to accompany her to her home, and—wonder of wonders!—presented her with the ransom money as a gift! Not content with this, he hanged the two deceitful priests from the nearest tree, and calmly proceeded on his way.

It is needless to dwell upon that terrible march across the isthmus, the sack of towns en route, the sufferings of the captives, or the voyage down the Chagres. On March 9th the buccaneers and all their prisoners and loot arrived at San Lorenzo, and at once complaints arose that Morgan had retained more than his share of the loot. For when the vast treasure was divided as Morgan saw fit, it was found that the pirates received but a paltry two hundred pieces of eight each for their share. But though his followers accused him openly of cheating, none dared offer personal violence, and he ordered the fort demolished, the guns taken aboard the buccaneers’ ships, and the buildings burned. Then, while the men were busy at these tasks, the detestable scoundrel sneaked off, boarded his own ship, and having secretly seized all the available provisions, sailed away, leaving his followers to fare as best they might—which was ill indeed.

Never in the history of the pirates had any captain been disloyal to his men in this way, and had the buccaneers been able to lay hands upon him Morgan’s career would have come to an abrupt as well as unpleasant end, then and there. Realizing that to go to Tortuga would mean falling into the wronged men’s hands, Morgan sailed boldly to Port Royal, where he was promptly arrested and, in company with the governor, was sent a prisoner to England. The rest of his story I have told. Knighted and honored, he came back to Jamaica as lieutenant-governor, a pirate Judas, to betray and hang his own men. He died in obscurity, but his deeds, nefarious as they were, will live forever. For years to come the ruins of old Panama will stand beside the Pacific, everlasting monuments to his ruthless villainy, and upon its bluff old San Lorenzo still stands, grim, frowning, but deserted! Its moat is dry and choked with weeds, its guns lie dismounted and thick with rust; its vast underground passages and rooms are empty; its parapets are crumbling away. But within its dungeons may still be seen the manacles that held the few survivors of that bloody battle; beneath the massive walls the Chagres still ripples gently on its way to the sea; upon the bar the waves still break and roar where Morgan’s ships went down.

Standing here to-day, it is hard to realize that once the peaceful spot rang to the clash of steel, the crash of musketry, and the roar of cannon; that curses and shots, cries of St. Jago and St. George, shrieks of dying men, and the groans of wounded echoed from the hills; that these ancient, weather-beaten stones once ran with blood; that the weed-grown slopes were dotted with dead and dying men; that bodies lay piled in heaps about the sally-ports and guns, and that Don and buccaneer struggled in mortal combat where now gorgeous butterflies flit from flower to flower in the sun and swallows nest beneath the parapets.

For centuries old San Lorenzo has thus stood. For centuries it will stand. It is almost as enduring as the living rock on which it rests. Fire and shot have scarcely left a scar upon it. The pirates’ greatest efforts at destruction made hardly an impression. The elements affect it little, and until its last age-gray stone has crumbled to dust it will bind the present with the past, and the past with Morgan—the greatest pirate of them all, the most daring, most famous, and most villainous of the buccaneers.

NOTES

[1] Dampier was the son of a Somerset farmer, but at seventeen years of age was apprenticed to a sea captain sailing from Weymouth. Deserting in the West Indies, he took to the occupation of a logwood cutter for a time, and later joined the buccaneers. He wrote several books, working at his manuscripts between battles, and keeping his notes in a joint of bamboo which, to use his own words, he “kept stopt at the ends with wax to keep out water. In this I preserved my Journal and other Writings tho’ I was often forced to swim.” His descriptions of fauna and flora, his maps, and his detailed accounts of the Indians and their customs and languages are of great scientific value, though his conclusions are often erroneous.

[2] Esquemelling was a Hollander who went to Hispaniola in the capacity of clerk for the French West India Company. When the latter withdrew their business from Tortuga and sold off all their possessions, the clerk went to the auction block with the other chattels and was purchased for three hundred pieces of eight (approximately $300.00) by a cruel master. Under the treatment accorded him Esquemelling became dangerously ill, and his owner, fearing to lose his slave and his money at the same time, disposed of the sick man, for seventy pieces of eight, to a surgeon who treated Esquemelling kindly, nursed him to health, and granted him his freedom on condition that the penniless ex-clerk should pay him one hundred pieces of eight when able to do so. He promptly joined the buccaneers and took part in most of their notable exploits for nearly seven years. His records, especially his “Buccaneers of America,” are the best histories of these men extant.

[3] According to the most reliable records, the Vigilant was built in Baltimore in the latter part of the eighteenth century. Originally named the Nonesuch, she was intended for a privateer, but, the Revolution being virtually over before she was launched, she was sold and won an unsavory reputation as a pirate. She later turned privateer, during the War of 1812, and afterward engaged in the slave-trade until England’s anti-slavery crusade made this work too dangerous. She was then sold again, and became a notorious smuggler. Still later she changed hands once more, and under her new owner, a Danish West Indian merchant, resumed privateering with letters of marque from the Danish Government. In 1825 the Vigilant became a man-of-war. A Spanish privateer had been harassing the Danish shipping, and, all available Danish warships being too large to follow through the shallow channels where she sought refuge, the Vigilant was chartered and a company of soldiers concealed upon her. As she cruised within sight of the privateer the latter swept down upon her, thinking her a helpless merchantman, only to be surprised and completely overwhelmed by the hidden troops. After this episode the old schooner became a peaceful mail-packet among the Virgin Islands. She has been repeatedly sunk and raised again. In the hurricane of 1876 she went on a reef off Christiansted, St. Croix, and again, in 1916, a hurricane sent her to the bottom in almost the same spot. Her rig originally was that of a topsail schooner, but this was later changed to that of a fore-and-aft schooner with gaff topsails. Probably very little besides the keel and timbers of the original craft remains, as she has been repaired from time to time during her long career.

[4] The origin of the colloquial name of “Bimshire Land” for Barbados and of “Bims” for its natives appears to puzzle many people. One writer in a well-known magazine went so far as to suggest that it was a corruption of “bam”! In reality it was applied to the island owing to the fact that Robert Bims (who was one of the earliest colonizers of St. Kitts), hearing of Barbados, went there with a party of settlers and took possession. Half-humorously and half-sarcastically (for it was generally believed the island was worthless) it was referred to as “Bim’s Shire,” a nickname which has always stuck.

[5] This is an excerpt from a report by Captain Thomas Warner, the founder of the colony, who lies buried in Middle Island Church on the highway between Sandy Point and Basseterre, where his tombstone informs us that he “boughte an illustryous nayme with loss of noble blood.”

[6] See Introduction.

[7] One prize taken by the Trinity, the San Rosario, was laden with over seven hundred “pigs,” or ingots of silver bullion, but the buccaneers, mistaking the precious metal for tin, threw overboard all but one bar which was retained by one of the men for a souvenir.

[8] Curiously enough, the term “buccaneer,” from the French boucanier, was later adopted by the English freebooters and was applied exclusively to them, whereas the French corsairs took to themselves the English term “freebooters” and pronouncing it to the best of their ability called themselves fribustiers or flibustiers, which eventually became filibustiers.

According to some authorities, notably Van Esveldt in his work on the buccaneers published in 1756, the word “Filibuster” was originally derived from the Spanish “Flibotero,” meaning one who uses a small boat. The British corsairs altered this to “Flybusters” or “Freebooters”; the French used the form “Flibustiers” and the Dutch “Vlieboters.”

[9] Of the several forts of the citadel or castle of San Jerome, the largest was also called San Jerome.