CHAPTER V.

LOLONNOIS THE CRUEL.

Lolonnois--His stratagem--His cruelty--His partner, Michael le

Basque--Takes Maracaibo--Tortures the citizens--Sacks the

town--Takes Gibraltar--Attempt on Merida--Famine and

pestilence--Division of spoil--Takes St. Pedro--Burns

Veragua--Wrecked in Honduras--Attacked by Indians--Killed and eaten

by the savages.

The Spanish ships now decreased in number, merchants relinquishing a

trade so uncertain and perilous. The consequence of this was that the

Buccaneers, finding their sea cruises grow less profitable, began to

venture upon the mainland, and attack towns and even cities.

The first Buccaneer who distinguished himself in this wider field of

action was Francis Lolonnois. He was born among the sands of Olonne, in

Poictou, and drew his _nom de guerre_ from that wild and fitting

birthplace. He quitted France in early life, and embarked at Rochelle as

an _engage_ for the Caribbean Islands, where he served the customary

slavery of three years. Having heard much during this servitude of the

hunters of Hispaniola, he sailed for that island as soon as his

apprenticeship had expired, and he was again a free adventurer. He first

bound himself as a valet to a hunter, and finally became himself a

Buccaneer, having now passed through all the usual experiences of a

young West Indian colonist. Spending some time upon the savannahs, he

became restless and tired of shore, and desirous of enlisting as a

freebooter under the red flag. Repairing to Tortuga, the head-quarters

of Flibustier enterprise, he enrolled himself among the rovers of the

sea, with whom he made many voyages as simple mariner or companion. From

the first day he trod plank he is said to have shown himself destined

to attain high distinction, surpassing all the "Brothers" in adroitness,

agility, and daring.

In these floating republics talent soon rose to the surface. Lolonnois

was elected master of a vessel, with which he took many prizes, but at

last lost everything by a storm which wrecked his ship, drowned his men,

sank his cargo, and cast him bleeding and naked upon a savage shore. His

courage and conduct, however, had won the admiration of the Governor of

Tortuga, M. de la Place, whose island he had enriched by the frequent

sale of prizes, and who launched him again in a new ship to encounter

once more all the fury of the sea, the hurricane, and the Spaniard.

Fortune was at first favourable to him, and he acquired great riches.

His name became so dreaded by the Indians and the Spaniards that they

chose rather to die or drown than surrender to one who never knew the

word mercy. He never learned how to chain fortune to his mast, and was

soon a second time wrecked at Campeachy. The men were all saved, but on

reaching land were pursued and killed by the Spaniards. Lolonnois,

himself severely wounded, saved his life by a stratagem. Mixing the sand

of the shore with the blood flowing from his wounds, he smeared his face

and body, and hid himself dexterously under a heap of dead, remaining

there till the Spaniards had carried off one or two of his less severely

wounded companions into Campeachy. As soon as they were gone he arose

with a grim smile from his lurking place among the slain, and betook

himself to the woods. He then washed his now stiffened wounds in a

river, and bound up his gashes as he could. As soon as they were healed

(the flesh of these men soon healed), he put on the dress of a slain

Spaniard, and made his way boldly into the neighbouring city. In the

suburbs he entered into conversation with some slaves he met, whom he

bribed by an offer of freedom if they would obey him and follow his

guidance.

They listened to his proposal, and, stealing their master's canoe,

brought it to the sea-shore, where Lolonnois lay concealed. But before

this the disguised Buccaneer had gone rambling fearlessly through the

enemy's town, witnessing the rejoicings made at his own supposed death;

for his companions, who were kept close prisoners in a dungeon, had been

asked what had become of their captain, to which they had always replied

that he was dead, upon which the Spaniards lit up bonfires in their open

squares, thanking God for their deliverance from so cruel a pirate.

The flames of these fires were red upon the bay when Lolonnois and the

slaves pushed off their canoe and made haste to escape. They reached

Tortuga in safety, and Lolonnois kept his promise, and set the slaves at

liberty--although, if he had been base and worthless enough, he could

have refitted his boat with the profits of their sale. He now thought

only of revenging himself on the Spaniards for their cruelty in

murdering the survivors of a wreck. He spent whole days in considering

how he could capture a vessel and restore himself to his former

reputation for skill and fortune. By some extraordinary plan,

Esquemeling--who writes always with affected horror of the men amongst

whom he lived--says, with "craft and subtlety," he soon obtained a third

ship, with a crew of twenty-one men and a surgeon. Being well provided

with arms and necessaries--how provided by a penniless man it is

impossible to guess--he resolved to visit De Los Cayos, a village on the

south side of Cuba, where he knew vessels from the Havannah passed to

the port of Boca de Estera, where they purchase tobacco, sugar, and

hides, coming generally in small boats, for the sea ran very shallow. At

this place meat was also obtained to victual the Spanish fleets.

Here Lolonnois was very sanguine of booty, but some fishermen's boats,

observing him, alarmed the town. One of these canoes they captured, and,

placing in it a crew of eleven men, proceeded to coast about the Bayes

du Nord. The Buccaneers kept at some distance from each other, in hopes

of sooner surrounding their prey, for each of their crews was strong

enough to capture any merchant vessel that had not more than fifteen or

sixteen unarmed men on board. They remained some months beating off and

on Cuba, but caught nothing, although this was the very height of the

commercial season. After a long delay of wonder and vexation, they

learned the cause of their failure from the crew of a fishing-boat which

they captured, who told them that the people of Cayos would not venture

to sea because they knew that they were there. It would be dangerous for

them to remain, they added, for the chief merchants of the port had

instantly despatched a "vessel overland" to the Governor of Havannah,

telling him that Lolonnois had come in two canoes to destroy them, and

begging him to send and destroy the "ladrones." The governor could with

difficulty at first be persuaded to listen to the petition, because he

had just received letters from Campeachy bidding him rejoice at the

death of that pirate; but, aroused by the continued importunities of his

angry petitioners, he at last sent a ship to their relief.

This ship carried ten guns, and had a crew of ninety young, vigorous,

and well-armed men, to whom he gave at parting an express command that

they should not return into his presence without having first destroyed

those pirates. He sent with them a negro hangman, desiring him to kill

on the spot all they should take, except Lolonnois, the captain, who was

to be brought alive in triumph to the Havannah. The ship had scarcely

arrived at Cayos when the pirate, advertised of its approach, came to

seek it at its moorings in the river Estera. Lolonnois cried out, when

he saw it loom in the distance, "Courage, mes camarades! courage, mes

bons freres! we shall soon be well mounted." Capturing some fishermen

busy with their nets, he forced them at night to show him the entrance

of the port.

Rowing very quietly in the shadow of the trees that bordered the river's

banks and hid their approach, they arrived under the vessel's side a

little after two o'clock in the morning--not long before daybreak. The

watch on board the ship hailed them, and asked them whence they came and

if they had seen any pirates? They made one of the fishermen who guided

them reply in Spanish that they had seen no pirates or anything else;

and this made the Spaniards believe that Lolonnois had fled at their

approach. The Buccaneers instantly began to open fire on both sides from

their canoes. The Spaniards, who kept good guard, returned the fire, but

without much effect, for their enemies lay down flat in their boats, and

the trees served them as gabions. The Spaniards fought bravely, in spite

of the suddenness and vigour of the attack, and made some use of their

great guns. The combat lasted from dawn till midday, the crew of the

vessel discharging ineffectual volleys of musketry, which seldom injured

the assailants, whose bullets, on the other hand, killed or wounded

every moment some of the Havannah youth. When the firing began to

slacken, Lolonnois pulled his canoes out into the stream, and boarded

the vessel, which almost instantly surrendered.

Those who survived were beaten down under the hatches, while the wounded

on the decks received the _coup de grace_. When this had been done,

Lolonnois commanded his men to bring up the prisoners one by one from

the hold, cutting off their heads as they came up with his own hand, and

tasting their blood. The negro hangman, seeing the fate of his

predecessors, threw himself passionately at the feet of the Buccaneer

chief, and exclaimed in Spanish, "If you will not kill me I will tell

you the truth." Lolonnois, supposing he had some secret to tell, bade

him speak on. But he refused to open his lips further till life were

promised him; upon the promise being made, the trembling wretch

exclaimed, "Senor capitan, Monsieur, the governor of the Havannah, not

doubting but that this well-armed frigate would have taken the strongest

of your vessels, sent me on board to serve as executioner, and to hang

all the prisoners that his men took, in order to intimidate your nation,

so that they should not dare ever to approach a Spanish vessel."

Esquemeling, who always exaggerates the cruelty of his quondam

companions, says, Lolonnois, making the black confess what he thought

fit, commanded him to be murdered with the rest; but Oexmelin gives a

more probable version. At the negro's mention of his being a hangman he

grew furious, and but for his words, "I give thee quarter and even

liberty because I promised it thee," would certainly have put him to

death. He then slew all the rest of the crew but one man, whom he spared

in order to send him back with a letter to the governor of the Havannah.

The letter ran thus: "I have returned your kindness by doing to your men

what they designed to do to me and my companions. I shall never

henceforward give quarter to any Spaniard whatsoever, and I have great

hopes of executing upon your own person the very same punishment I have

done upon those you sent against me. It would be better for you to cut

your throat than to fall into my power."

The governor, enraged at the loss of his ship and crew, and exasperated

by the insolent daring of the letter, swore in the presence of many that

he would not grant quarter to any pirate who fell into his hands.

Furious that two canoes, with twenty-two half-naked men, should be able

to deride the might of Spain in his person, he instantly sent round word

to the neighbouring Indian forts to hang all their French and English

prisoners, instead of, as usual, embarking them for Spain. The citizens

of Havannah, hearing of this imprudent bravado, sent a deputation to the

governor to represent to him that, for one Englishman or Frenchman that

the Spaniards captured, the Buccaneers took every day a hundred of their

people, that the men of Havannah were obliged to get their living by

trading, that life was far dearer to them than mere money, which was all

the Buccaneers wanted; and lastly, that all their fishermen would be

daily exposed to danger, the Buccaneers having frequent opportunity for

reprisal. Upon this the angry governor was at last persuaded to bridle

his passion and remit the severity of his oath.

Lolonnois, now provided with a good ship, resolved to cruise from port

to port to obtain provisions and men. Off Maracaibo he surprised a ship

laden with plate, outward-bound to buy cocoa-nuts, and with this prize

returned to Tortuga, much to his own satisfaction and the general joy

of that strange colony of runaway slaves, disbanded soldiers, hunters,

privateersmen, pirates, Puritans, and papists. He had not been long in

port before he planned an expedition to Maracaibo, joining another

adventurer in equipping a body of five hundred men. In Tortuga he found

prisoners for guides, and disbanded adventurers resolute enough to be

his companions. His partner was Michael le Basque, a Buccaneer who had

retired very rich, and was now major of the island. He had done great

actions in Europe, and bore the repute of being a good soldier.

Lolonnois was to rule by sea and Le Basque by land.

Le Basque knew all the avenues of Maracaibo, and had lately taken in a

prize two Indians, who knew the port well and offered to act both as

pilots and guides. Le Basque had consented to join Lolonnois, struck by

the daring and comprehension of his plans, and Lolonnois was overjoyed

at the alliance of so tried a man. Notice was instantly given to all the

unemployed Buccaneers that they were planning a great expedition with

much chance of booty. All who were willing to join them were to come by

a certain day to the rendezvous either at Tortuga or Bayala, on the

north side of Hispaniola; at the latter place he revictualled his fleet,

took some French hunters as volunteers into his company, careened his

vessels, and procured beef and pork by the chase.

His fleet consisted of eight small ships, of which his own, the largest,

carried only twenty pieces of cannon; his crews amounted altogether to

about four hundred men. Setting sail from Bayala the last day in July,

while doubling Ponta del Espada (Sword Point), the eastern cape of

Hispaniola, Lolonnois overtook two Spanish vessels coming from Porto

Rico to New Spain, and one of these Lolonnois insisted on capturing with

his own hand, sending in his fleet to Savona. The Spaniards, although

they had an opportunity for two whole hours, refused to fly, and, being

well armed, prepared for a desperate resistance; the combat lasted for

three hours. The ship carried sixteen guns, and was manned by fifty

fighting men. They found in her a cargo of 120,000 pounds' weight of

cocoa, 40,000 pieces of eight, and the value of 10,000 more in jewels.

Lolonnois instantly sent this prize back to Tortuga to be unloaded, with

orders to return to the rendezvous at Savona. On their way to this

place, his vanguard had also been in luck, having met with a Spanish

vessel bringing military stores and money from Cumana for the garrisons

of Hispaniola. In this vessel, which they took without any resistance,

though armed with eight guns, they found 7,000 pounds' weight of powder,

a great number of muskets and other arms, together with 12,000 pieces of

eight.

These successes encouraged the adventurers, and to superstitious men

seemed like promises of good fortune and success. The generosity of the

governor of Tortuga also tended to heighten their spirits. M. D'Ogeron,

the French governor, had been greatly delighted at the early arrival of

so rich a prize, worth, at the lowest calculation, 180,000 livres, and

threw open all his store-houses for the use of the prize crew. Ordering

her to be quickly unloaded, he sent her back to Lolonnois full of

provisions and necessaries. Many persons who had come from France with

the governor now joined an expedition which had begun so auspiciously,

desirous of gaining a fortune with the same rapidity as the older

colonists. By hazarding a little money a planter could obtain a chance

of sharing in the plunder of a distant city without moving from under

the shadow of his tamarind tree, and the governor's approval threw an

air of legal government patronage over the expedition. D'Ogeron even

sent his two nephews on board, young gallants newly arrived from France,

and one of whom afterwards ruled the island in the room of his uncle.

With a fleet recruited with men in room of those killed by the fever or

the Spaniards, and full of hope and spirits, Lolonnois sailed for

Maracaibo. His own vessel he gave to his comrade Anthony du Puis, and

went himself on board the _Cacaoyere_, as the largest prize was called.

Before sailing, he reviewed his little invincible armada. His own new

frigate carried sixteen guns and 120 men. His vice-admiral, Moses

Vauclin, had ten guns and ninety men; and his _matelot_, Le Basque,

sailed in a vessel called _La Poudriere_, because it contained all the

powder, the ammunition, and the money for the sailors' pay. It carried

twenty pieces of cannon and ninety men. Pierre le Picard steered a

brigantine with forty men. Moses had equipped another of the same size,

and the two other smaller vessels were each managed by a crew of thirty

men. Every sailor was armed with a good musket, a brace of pistols, and

a strong sabre. At this review Lolonnois first disclosed his whole plan,

which was to visit Maracaibo, in the province of New Venezuela, and to

pillage all the towns that border the lake. He then produced his guides,

one of whom had been a pilot over the bar at Maracaibo, and who vouched

for the ease with which the attack could be made. Shouts and clamour

announced the universal satisfaction at the proposal. They all agreed to

follow him, and took an oath that they would obey him implicitly on the

penalty of being mulcted of their booty. The usual _chasse-partie_, or

Buccaneers' agreement, was then drawn up, specifying the exact share

that each one should receive of the spoil, from the captain down to the

boys of the ships, and not forgetting the wounded and the guides.

Venezuela, or "little Venice," derived its name from its being very low

land, and only preserved from frequent inundation by artificial means.

At six or seven leagues' distance from the Bay of Maracaibo, or Gulf of

Venezuela, are two small islands--the island of the Watch Tower and the

island of the Pigeons. Between these two islands runs a channel of fresh

water--as wide across as an eight-pound shot can carry, about sixty

leagues long, and thirty broad--which empties itself into the sea. On

the Isla de las Vigilias stood a hill surmounted by a watch-tower; on

the Isla de las Palombas a fort to impede the entrance of vessels, which

were obliged to come very near, the channel being narrowed by two

sand-banks, which left only fourteen feet water. The sand-drifts were

very numerous; some of them, particularly one called El Tablazo, not

having more than six feet water.

"West hereof," says Esquemeling--for we must describe the past, not the

present city--"is the city of Maracaibo, very pleasant to the view, its

houses being built along the shore, having delightful prospects all

round. The city may contain three or four thousand persons, slaves

included, all which make a town of reasonable bigness. There are judged

to be about 800 persons able to bear arms, all Spaniards. Here are one

parish church, well built and adorned, four monasteries, and one

hospital. The city is governed by a deputy-governor, substituted by the

governor of the Caraccas. The trade here exercised is mostly in hides

and tobacco. The inhabitants possess great numbers of cattle and many

plantations, which extend thirty leagues in the country, especially

towards the great town of Gibraltar, where are gathered great quantities

of cocoa nuts, and all other garden fruits, which serve for the regale

and sustenance of the inhabitants of Maracaibo, whose territories are

much drier than those of Gibraltar. Hither those of Maracaibo send great

quantities of flesh, they making returns in oranges, lemons, and other

fruits; for the inhabitants of Gibraltar want flesh, not being capable

of feeding cows and sheep."

The inner lake within the great bar, so difficult to cross, was fed by

upwards of seventy streams, of which several were navigable. The two

capes on either side of the gulf were named respectively Cape St. Roman

and the Cape of Caquibacoa. The east side, though frequently flooded,

was unhealthy, but very fertile, something resembling the Maremma,

where, according to an Italian proverb, a man gets rich in six months

and dies in seven.

In the bay itself, ten or twelve leagues from the lake, are the two

islands of Onega and Las Monges. On the east side, near the

_embouchure_, there was a fishermen's village called Barbacoa, where the

Indians lived in trees to escape the floods; for, after great rains, the

lands were often overflowed in broad tracts of two or three leagues. A

few miles from this was the town of Gibraltar, where the best cocoa in

the Indies was grown, as well as the celebrated "priests' tobacco."

Beyond this twenty leagues of jurisdiction, rose mountains perpetually

covered with snow, contrasting remarkably with the swampy fields and the

rich tropical vegetation of the well-irrigated district below. On the

other side of these mountains lay the mother city of Merida, between

which, during the summer alone, mules carried merchandise to Gibraltar;

the cocoa and tobacco of Merida being exchanged for Peruvian flour and

the fruits of Gibraltar. Near this latter town were rich plantations and

wooded districts, abounding with the tall cedars from which the Indians

scooped out solid _piraguas_, or canoes, capable of carrying thirty

tons, which were rigged with one large sail.

The territory of Gibraltar was flat, and naturally fertile, watered by

rivers and brooks, besides being artificially irrigated by small

channels, necessary in the frequent droughts. Everything desirable for

food and pleasant to the sight grew here in abundance, the air was

filled with birds as beautiful as wandering blossoms, and the rivers

teemed with many-coloured fish. But into this Indian Paradise death had

entered, and these swamps were the lairs of the deadliest fevers that

devastate humanity. In the rainy season the merchants left Gibraltar,

just as the rich do Rome, and retired to Merida or Maracaibo to escape

the pestilence that walked not merely in darkness but even in the bright

noon. At six leagues from this town and its 1,500 inhabitants, ran a

river navigable by vessels of fifty tons' burthen.

Maracaibo itself had a spacious and secure port, and was well adapted

for building vessels, owing to the abundance of timber in the

neighbourhood. In the small island of Borrica were fed great numbers of

goats, which were bred chiefly for their skins. In curious

contradistinction to all this bustle of commerce, life, and wealth, on

the south-east border of the lake lived the Bravo-Indians, a savage

race, who had never been subdued by the Spaniard. They also, like the

fishermen, dwelt in huts built in the branches of the mangrove trees at

the very edge of the water, safe from the floods, and from the equally

annoying, though less fatal, visitation of the mosquitoes. Beyond them

to the west spread a dry and arid country--where nothing but cacti and

stunted, bitter shrubs grew, so thorny as to be almost impassable by the

traveller--waste and barren. Here the Spaniards pastured a few flocks,

and the only houses were the huts of the armed shepherds who tended the

lonely herds. These cattle were killed chiefly for their fat and hides,

the flesh being left for the flocks of merchant birds--a sort of

vulture, four or five of whom would pick an ox to the bone in a day or

two.

Lolonnois, arriving at one of the islands in the gulf, landed and took

in provisions, not wishing to arrive at the bar till daybreak, in hopes

of surprising the fort; and anchoring, out of sight of the watch-tower

weighed anchor in the evening from the island of Onega, and sailed all

night, but was seen by the sentinels, who immediately made signals to

the fort, which discharged its cannon and announced the approach of an

enemy.

Mooring off the bar, Lolonnois lost no time in landing to attack the

fort that guarded the very door through which he must pass. The

batteries consisted of simple gabions or baskets masked with turf, and

concealing fourteen pieces of cannon and 250 men, with flanking

earthworks thrown up to protect the gunners. Lolonnois and Le Basque

landed at a league from the fort, and advanced at the head of their men.

The governor, seeing them land, had prepared an ambuscade, in hopes of

attacking them at the same time in flank and rear. The Buccaneers,

discovering this, got before the Spaniards, and routed them so utterly

that not a single man returned to the fort, which was instantly attacked

"with the usual desperation of this sort of people," says Esquemeling.

The fighting continued for three hours. The Buccaneers, aiming with

hunters' precision, killed so many of the Spaniards, and reduced their

numbers so terribly, that the survivors could not prevent the savage

swordsmen storming the embrasures, slaying half the survivors, and

taking the rest prisoners. A few survivors are said by one writer to

have fled in confusion into Maracaibo, crying, "The pirates will

presently be here with 2,000 men."

The rest of the day Lolonnois spent in destroying the fort he had

captured, first signalling his ships to come in as the danger was over.

His men levelled the earth ramparts, spiked the guns, buried the dead,

and sent the wounded on board the fleet. The next day, very early in the

morning, the ships weighed anchor and directed their course, in

close-winged phalanx, like a flock of locusts, towards the doomed city

of Maracaibo, now only six leagues distant. They made but slow way, in

spite of all their impatience, for there was very little wind; and it

was not till the next morning that they drew in sight of the town,

standing pleasantly on the cool shore, with its galleries of shaded

balconies, its towers and steeples--the goal to which they steered.

Suspicious of ambuscades after the danger at the bar, Lolonnois put his

men into canoes, and pulled to shore under protection of salvos from his

great guns, which he ordered to be pointed at the woods which lined the

beach. Half the men went in the canoes, and half remained on board; but

these furious discharges were thrown away, the Spaniards having long

since fled. To their great astonishment, the town itself was deserted.

The people, remembering the horrors of a former Buccaneer descent, when

Maracaibo had been "sacked to the uttermost," had escaped to Gibraltar

in their boats and canoes, taking with them all the jewels and money

they could carry.

To the alarmed friends who received them, they said that the fort of the

bar had been taken, and nothing been saved, nor any soldiers escaped. At

Gibraltar they believed themselves safe, thinking the Buccaneers would

pillage the unfortunate and defenceless town and then retreat over the

bar.

The hungry sailors, who had lived scantily for four weeks, found the

deserted houses well provided with flour, bread, pork, poultry, and

brandy, and with these they made good cheer. The warehouses were

brimming with merchandise, the cellars were flowing with Spanish wine.

The more prudent fell to plunder, the more thoughtless to revel. The

former class probably embraced the older, and the latter the younger

men. Each party abused the vice from which he abstained, and gave

himself up without scruple to his own more favourite indulgence. But

soon the man weary of wine began to plunder, and the man loaded with

pieces of eight began to drink. The moment that plunder ceased, waste

began, and prudence and folly alike ended the day,--poor and drunk. The

commanders at once seized on the best houses, indulging their natural

love of order and justice, by placing sentinels at the larger shops and

warehouses.

The great monastery of the Cordeliers served them as a guard-house, for

a long time the abode of thieves, yet never so manifestly as now; for a

long time the shrine of mammon, yet now for the first time filled by

his avowed worshippers. Had the town not been deserted, that night would

have heard the groans of the victim of cruelty; as it was, it echoed

only with the songs and shouts of debauchery. The Buccaneer had reached

his Capua, but there were no Judiths ready to slay these Holofernes in

their drunken sleep. Perhaps a night surprise would have failed. These

men were still the vigilant hunters and the watchful sailors; sunken

rocks and lurking Spaniards, breakers and wild bulls, reefs and wild

panthers had taught them never to sleep unguarded and unwatched.

The next day a fresh source of plunder was opened. Lolonnois--for Le

Basque's command, even by land, seems to have been secondary--sent a

body of 160 men to reconnoitre the neighbouring woods, where some of the

inhabitants were, it was supposed, concealed. They returned the same

night, discharging their guns, and dragging after them a miserable

weeping train of twenty prisoners, men, women, and children; and,

besides this, a sack of 20,000 pieces of eight, and many mules, laden

with household goods and merchandise.

Some of the prisoners were at once racked, to make them confess where

they had hidden their riches, but neither pain nor fear could extort

their secret. Lolonnois, who valued not murdering, though in cold blood,

ten or twelve Spaniards, drew his cutlass and hacked one of them to

pieces before all his companions; and while the pale, tortured men were

still writhing and groaning by his side, declared, "If you do not

confess and declare where you have the rest of your goods, I will do the

like to all your companions." In spite of all these horrible cruelties

and inhuman threats, only one was found base enough to offer to conduct

the Buccaneers to a place where the rest of the fugitives were hidden.

When they arrived there, they found their coming had been announced, the

riches had been removed to another place, and the Spaniards had fled.

The exiles now changed their hiding-places daily, and, amid the

universal danger and distrust, a father would not even rely on his own

son.

After fifteen days "taking stock" at Maracaibo, Lolonnois marched

towards Gibraltar, intending afterwards to sack Merida, as at these

places he expected to find the wealth transported from the City of the

Lake. Several of his prisoners offered to serve as guides, but warned

him that he would find the place strong and fortified. "No matter,"

cried the Buccaneer, "the better sign that it is worth taking."

Gibraltar was already prepared. The inhabitants, expecting Lolonnois,

had entreated aid from the governor of Merida, a stout old soldier who

had served in Flanders. He sent back word, that they need take no care,

for he hoped in a little while to exterminate the pirates. He had soon

after this hopeful bravado entered the town at the head of 400

well-armed men, and was soon joined by an equal number of armed

townsmen, whom he at once enrolled. On the side of the town towards the

sea he raised with great rapidity a battery, mounting twenty guns, well

protected by baskets of earth, and flanked by a smaller traverse of

eight pieces. He lastly barricaded a narrow passage to the town, through

which the pirates, he knew, must pass, and opened another path leading

to a swampy wood that was quite impassable.

Three days after leaving Maracaibo Lolonnois approached Gibraltar, and,

seeing the royal standard hung out, perceived there were breakers ahead,

and called a general council, one of those republican gatherings that

distinguished the Buccaneer armies, and remind us of the less unanimous

consultations that Xenophon describes. He confessed that the difficulty

of the enterprise was great, seeing the Spaniards had had so much time

to put themselves in a state of defence, and had now got together a

large force and much ammunition; "but have a good courage," said he, "we

must either defend ourselves like good soldiers or lose our lives with

all the riches we have got. Do as I shall do, who am your captain. At

other times we have fought with fewer men than we have now, and yet

have overcome a greater number of enemies than can be in this town; _the

more they are the more riches we shall gain_." His men all cried out,

with one voice, that they would follow and obey him. "'Tis well," he

replied, "but know ye, the first man who will show any fear or the least

apprehension thereof, I will pistol him with my own hands."

The Buccaneers cast anchor near the shore, about three-quarters of a

league from the town, and the next day before sunrise landed to the

number of 380 determined men, each armed with a cutlass, a brace of

pistols, and thirty charges of powder and bullets. On the shore they all

shook hands with one another, many for the last time, and began their

march, Lolonnois exclaiming, "Come, _mes freres_, follow me and have

good courage." Their guide, ignorant of what the governor of Merida had

done, led them in all good faith up the barricaded way, where, to his

surprise, he found the paths in one place blocked up with large trees,

newly cut, and in another swamped so that the soft mud reached up above

their thighs.

Lolonnois, seeing the passage hopeless, attempted the narrow way, which

had been carefully cleared as a trap for them. Here only six men could

go abreast, and the shots of the town ploughed incessantly down the

path. At the same time the Spaniards, in a small terraced battery of six

guns, beat their drums and hung out their silk flags. The adventurers,

harassed by the fire that they could not return, and slipping on the

swampy path, grew vexed and impatient. "Courage, my brothers," cried

their leader, "we must beat these fellows or die; follow me, and if I

fall don't give in for that." With these words he ran full butt, with

head down like a mad bull, against the Spaniards, followed by all his

men, as daring but less patient than himself. Cutting down boughs they

made a rude pathway, firm and sure, over the deep mud. When within about

a pistol shot from the entrenchments, they began again to sink up to

their knees, and the enemy's grape-shot fell thick and hot upon the

impeded ranks. Many dropped, but their last words were always, "Courage,

never flinch, _mes freres_, and you'll win it yet." All this time they

could scarce see or hear, so blinded and deafened were they by the

thunder and fire.

In the midst of this discomfiture the Spaniards suddenly broke through

the gloom, just as they got out of the wood and trod upon firmer ground,

and drove them back by a furious onslaught, many of them being killed

and wounded. They then attempted the other passage again, but without

success, and finding the Spaniards would not sally out, and the gabions

too heavy to tear up by hand, Lolonnois resorted to the old stratagem,

so successful at Hastings, by which the very impatience of courage is

made to prove fatal to an enemy.

At a preconcerted signal the Buccaneers began to retreat, upon which the

defenders of the battery, exclaiming, "They fly, they fly; follow,

follow," sallied forth in disorder to the pursuit, shouting and firing

like an undisciplined rabble. Once out of gun-shot of the batteries, the

pursued turned into pursuers, and falling on the foe, sword in hand,

slew about 200. Fighting their way through those who survived, the

Buccaneers soon became masters of all the fortifications. Not more than

100 out of the 600 defenders remained alive, and these, as Falstaff

says, would have to limp to the town-end and beg for life. The brave old

governor lay dead among his foremost men.

The survivors who could crawl or run hid themselves in the woods,

impeded in their flight by the very obstructions they had themselves

raised. The men in the battery surrendered, and obtained quarter.

Neither Lolonnois nor Le Basque was scratched, but forty of their

companions perished, and eighty were grievously wounded. The greater

part of these died through the fevers and subsequent pestilence. 500

dead Spaniards were found, but many more had hidden themselves, to die

alone in peace.

The Buccaneers, now masters of Gibraltar, pulled down the Spanish

colours from tower and steeple, and hoisted their own red or black flag.

Making prisoners of all they met, they shut them up under guard in the

chief church, where they erected a battery of great guns, in case the

Spaniards should attempt to rally in a fit of despair. They then

collected the dead bodies of the Spaniards, and, piling them up, scarred

and gashed, in two large canoes, towed them out a quarter of a league to

sea, and scuttled them. They then gathered from every house, rich or

poor, all the plate, merchandise, and household stuff, which was not too

hot or too heavy to carry off, as rapacious as the borderer who stopped

wistfully opposite the hay-stack, wishing it had but four legs, that he

might make it "gang awa' wi' the rest." The Spaniards having buried

their treasure, as usual, armed parties were sent into the surrounding

woods to search for buried money, and to bring in hunters and planters

as prisoners to torture. Hung up by the beard, or burnt with

gun-matches, the wretched sufferers were forced to confess the

hiding-places.

Lolonnois soon turned the fertile country into a smoking black desert,

and, still insatiable for money and blood, planned an expedition over

the snow mountains to Merida, but reluctantly relinquished it when he

found his men unwilling to risk what they had got for the mere

uncertainly of getting more, though Merida was only forty leagues

distant. They had now 150 prisoners, besides 500 slaves, and many women

and children, many of whom were dying daily of famine, so short were

provisions already in a city in which the small army had been encamped

only eighteen days.

When they had spent six weeks in the town, Lolonnois determined to

return, nothing now being left to pillage. Disease and famine were worse

enemies than the Spaniard or the Indian, and cared for neither steel nor

lead. A pestilential disease appeared in consequence of the numerous

dead bodies left in the woods exposed to the wild beasts and the birds.

Those that lay nearest to the walls had been strewn over with earth, the

rest were left to taint the air, and slay the living--a putrid fever

broke out; the Spaniards killed more of the enemy after their death than

they had done in their life. The Frenchmen's wounds, already closing,

began now to re-open, the sick died daily, and the strongest pined and

sickened; all longed to return, even plunder grew distasteful to them

without health, and once more at sea they hoped soon to be well.

Men who had been revelling in the plenty of two captured cities, could

not return without impatience to the restraints of a time of scarcity.

Gibraltar always depending upon Maracaibo for its meat, and not well

supplied with flour, was, in fact, like a miser dying for want of a

loaf, while his storehouses were brimmed over with gold. The little meat

and flour were quickly consumed by the Buccaneers, who left their

prisoners to shift for themselves. The cattle they soon appropriated,

giving the mules' and asses' flesh to those Spaniards whose hunger was

strong enough to conquer their disgust. A few of the women were allowed

better fare, and many who had become the mistresses of their captors

were well treated by their lovers. Some of these were mere slaves,

others were voluntary concubines, but the greater part had been

compelled, by poverty and fear, to abandon their fathers and husbands.

Lolonnois, sending four of his prisoners into the woods, demanded a

ransom of 80,000 pieces of eight within two days, threatening the

fugitives to burn the town to ashes if his desire was not acceded to.

The Spaniards, already half-beggared, disagreed about the ransom; the

bolder and the more avaricious refused to pay a piastre, the old, the

timid, and the more generous preferred poverty to such a loss. Some said

it would serve as a mere bribe to allure a third adventurer, and others

declared it was the only means of saving Merida. While they were thus

disputing the two days passed, and the debate was put an end to by the

sight of flame ascending above the roofs. The city was already fired in

two or three places, when the inhabitants, promising to bring the

ransom, persuaded the Buccaneers to assist in quenching the flames, not,

however, till the chief houses were burned, and the chief monastery was

ruined.

Oexmelin merely says that Lolonnois set fire to the four corners of the

town, and in six hours reduced the whole to ashes. Palm-thatch and cedar

walls burn quick, and the sea-breeze was there to fan the flames, while

the Buccaneers were learned in the art of destruction. Lolonnois then

collected his men by beat of drum, and embarked his booty. Before he

sailed, he sent two of his prisoners again into the woods, to tell the

inhabitants that all the prisoners in his hands would be at once put to

death if the ransom were not paid. All prisoners who had not paid their

ransom he took with him, even the slaves being valued at so much, and

having put on board all riches that were movable, and a large sum of

money as a ransom for what was immovable, the Buccaneer fleet returned

to Maracaibo. The city, now partly repeopled, was thrown again into

disorder, nor much lessened when three or four prisoners came to the

governor, bearing a demand from Lolonnois to pay at once 30,000 pieces

of eight down upon his deck, or to expect a second sack, and the fate of

Gibraltar. While these terms were under concession, and the Spanish

merchants were chaffering with the sailors, as a lowland farmer might

have done with a highland _cateran_, a party of well-inclined

Flibustiers, unwilling to waste their time, rowed on shore, and stripped

the great church of its pictures, images, carvings, clocks, and bells,

even to the very cross on its steeple, piously desiring to erect a

chapel at Tortuga, where there was much need of spiritual instruction.

The Spaniards at last agreed to pay for their ransom and liberty 20,000

piastres, 10,000 pieces of eight, and 500 cows, provided the fleet would

do no further injury, and depart at once, and the blessing of Maracaibo

with them.

We can imagine the trembling and suppressed joy with which the people of

Maracaibo must have beheld the fleet sail slowly out of their harbour,

all eyes on board bent onward to the horizon and the golden future--none

looking back with a moment's regret upon the misery and the black ruin

left behind. How many orphans must have cursed them as they sailed, and

how many widows! Three days after the embarkation, to the horror of the

city, a vessel with a red flag at its masthead was seen re-entering the

harbour, but only, as it soon appeared, to demand a pilot to take the

fleet over the bar.

On their way to Hispaniola, Lolonnois touched at the Isle de la Vacca,

intending to stay there and divide the spoil. This island was inhabited

by French Buccaneers, who sold the flesh of the animals they killed to

vessels in want of victual. But a dispute arising here, the fleet again

set out to disband the crew at Gouaves in Hispaniola.

They arrived in two months, and, unlading the whole "cargazon of

riches," proceeded to make a dividend of their prizes and their gains.

Lolonnois and the other captains began by taking a solemn oath in

public, that they had concealed and held back no portion of the spoil,

but had thrown all without reserve into the public stock. The ceremony

of this oath must have been an imposing sight: wild groups of

half-stripped sailors, wounded men, and female captives, negroes and

Indians, Spanish soldiers and mulatto fishermen, and in the middle piled

bales of silks, heaps of glittering coin, and rich stuffs streaming over

scattered arms and costly jewels, while, looking on, perhaps wistfully,

leaning on their muskets, a few hunters fresh from the savannahs,

bull's-hide sandals on their feet, and long knives hanging from their

belts. After the captains had taken the oath, the common _matelots_,

down even to the cabin boys, took the vow that they had given up all

their spoil, to be shared equally by those who had equally ventured

their lives to win it.

After an exact calculation, the total value of their profits in jewels

and money was discovered to be 260,000 crowns, not including 100,000

crowns' worth of church furniture and a cargo of tobacco. On the final

division every man received money, silk, and linen to the value of about

100 pieces of eight. The surgeon and the wounded were as usual paid

first. The slaves were then sold by auction, and their purchase-money

divided among the various crews. The uncoined plate was weighed, and

sold at the rate of ten pieces of eight to a pound; the jewels were sold

at false and fanciful prices, and were generally undervalued, owing to

the ignorance of the arbitrators. A Buccaneer always preferred coin to

jewels, and jewels, as being portable, to heavy merchandise, which they

often threw overboard or wantonly destroyed. The adventurers then all

took the oath a second time, and proceeded to apportion the shares of

such as had fallen, handing them to the _matelots_, or messmate, to

forward to their heirs or nearest relations. We do not know whether, in

peculiar cases, a _matelot_ became his _camarade's_ heir.

The dividend over, they returned to Tortuga, amid the general rejoicing

of all over whom love or cupidity had any power. "For three weeks, while

their money lasted," says Oexmelin, probably an eye witness of the scene,

"there was nothing but dances, feasts, and protestations of unceasing

friendship." The _cabaretiers_ and the gambling-house keepers soon

revenged the cruelties of Maracaibo. The proud captors of that luckless

city in a few weeks were hungry beggars, basking on the quay of Tortuga,

straining their eyes to catch sight of some vessel that might take them

on board, and relieve them from that reaction of wretchedness. They were

jeered at as mad spendthrifts by the very men who had urged them to

their folly. The love of courtesans grew colder as the pieces of eight

diminished, and men were refused charity by the very wretches whom their

foolish generosity had lately enriched. No doubt watches were fried and

bank-bills eaten as sandwiches, just as they were during the war at

Portsmouth or at Dover. The prudent were those who made the money spin

out a day longer than their fellows, and the wildest were those who had

found out that two dice-boxes and two fiddlers ran through the

burdensome money a little faster than only one dice-box and one fiddler.

Some of the Buccaneers, skilful with the cards, added to their store and

returned at once to France, resolved to turn merchants, and trade with

the Indies they had wasted. The extravagant prices paid by these men

for wine, and particularly brandy, rendered that trade a source of great

profit. Just before the return of the fleet two French vessels had

arrived at Tortuga laden with spirits, which at first sold at very

moderate rates, but ultimately, from the great demand and the limited

means of supply, reached an exorbitant price, a gallon selling for as

much as four pieces of eight.

The tavern-keepers and the _filles de joie_ obtained most of the money

so dearly earned, and lavished it as those from whom they won it had

done. Cards and dice helped those who had not struck a blow at the

Spaniard, to now quietly spoil the captors. The story of Sampson and

Dalilah was daily acted. Even the governor hastened to benefit by the

expedition. He bought a cargo of cocoa of the Buccaneers, and shipped it

at once to France in Lolonnois' vessel, giving scarcely a twentieth part

of its value, and realising a profit of L120,000. The adventurers did

not grudge him this bargain, as he had risked everything for Tortuga,

and had suffered considerable losses. "M. D'Ogeron," says Oexmelin, with

some _naivete_, "aimait les 'honnetes gens,' les obligeait sans cesse,

et ne les lassait jamais manquer de rien."

Neither Lolonnois' talent, rank, nor courage kept him further from the

tavern door than the meanest of his crew. The poor drudge of a negro

that served as a butt to the sailors could not give way to baser

debauchery. It was the voice of the cannon alone that roused him to

great actions. On land he was a Caliban, at sea a Barbarossa. In spite

of his great booty, in a few short weeks he was poorer than his crew.

Tortuga was to him the Circe's island that transformed him into a beast.

As soon as his foot trod the plank, he became again the wily and the

wise Ulysses: the first in daring or in suffering, ready to endure or to

attack, above his fellow men in patience and impatience. His expenses

were large, and when the prizes ceased to come in he was soon reduced to

live upon his capital, and that quickly melted away in open-house

feasting and entertainments given to the governor. He had been

before he returned, moreover, so burdened with debts that even his

prize-money could not have defrayed them. There was but one means of

release--another expedition. Let the Spanish mother clasp her child

closer to her breast, for she knows not how soon she may have to part

with it for ever. Is there no comet that may warn an unprepared and a

doomed people?

Lolonnois had now acquired great repute at Tortuga. He was known to be

brave, and, what is a rare combination, prudent. Under his guidance men

who had forgot his previous misfortunes, thought themselves secure of

gold, and without glory gold is not to be won. He needed now no

entreaties to induce men to fill his ships; the difficulty was in

selecting from the volunteers. Those who had before stayed behind now

determined to venture; those who had once followed him were already

driven by mere poverty to enlist. The privations of land were

intolerable to men who had just revelled in riches--the privations of

sea could be endured by the mere force of habit. The planters threw by

their hoes, and quitted the hut for the cabin.

The towns of Nicaragua were now to share the fate of those of Venezuela.

About 700 men and six ships formed the expedition. Lolonnois himself

sailed in a large "flute" which he had brought from Maracaibo with 300

men; the other adventurers embarked in five smaller vessels. Having

careened and revictualled at Bayala, in Hispaniola, he steered for

Matamana, a port on the south side of Cuba. He here informed his

companions of the plan of the expedition, and produced an Indian of

Nicaragua who had offered to serve as guide. He assured them of the

riches of the country, and expressed his belief that they could surprise

the place before the inhabitants had secreted their money. His proposal

was received with the usual unhesitating applause.

At Matamana, Lolonnois collected by force all the canoes of the tortoise

fishermen, much to their grief and dismay, these poor men having no

other means of subsistence but fishing. These boats he needed to take

him up the channel of Nicaragua, which was too shallow for vessels of

any larger burthen. While attempting to round Cape Gracias a Dios, the

fleet was arrested by what the Spanish sailors call a "furious calm"--a

sad and tedious imprisonment to men to whom every delay involved the

success of their enterprise.

In spite of all their endeavours, they were carried by the current into

the Gulf of Honduras. Both wind and tide being against them, the smaller

vessels--better sailers and more manageable than that of Lolonnois--made

more way than he could do; but were obliged to wait for him, and stay

for his orders, being quite powerless without him and his 300 men.

They spent nearly a month in trying to recover their path, but all in

vain, losing in two hours what they gained in two days, and, their

provisions running short, put ashore to revictual.

Touching at the first land they could reach, they sent their canoes up

the river Xagua--their guides bringing them to the villages of the

"long-eared Indians," a race tributary to Spain, whose traders bartered

knives and mirrors with them for cocoa. The Buccaneers burned their huts

and carried off their millet, hogs, and poultry, loading the canoes with

all the food they could bring away to their impatient comerades, who

determined to remain here till the unfavourable weather had passed, and

burn and pillage along the whole borders of the gulf. The Indian

provisions proved but scanty for so numerous a band, but were divided

equally among the ships that were seeking food like locusts, and moving

daily on to new pastures.

A council of war was now held to discuss their position. Some were for

discontinuing the expedition, since the provisions ran so short. The

oldest and most experienced proposed plundering round the gulf till the

bad season had passed; and this plan was decided on. Having rifled a few

villages, they came to Puerto Cavallo, a place where Spanish ships

frequently anchored, and which contained two storehouses full of

cochineal, indigo, hides, &c., from Guatimala. There happened then to

be lying in the port a Spanish vessel of twenty-four guns and sixteen

patarerros. Its cargo, however, was nearly all unloaded and carried up

into the interior to be exchanged in barter with the Indians. This ship

was instantly seized; and Lolonnois, landing without any resistance,

burned the magazines and all the houses, and made many prisoners. The

Spaniards he put to the torture to induce them to confess. If any

refused to answer, he pulled out their tongues, or cut them to pieces

with his hanger, "desiring," says Esquemeling, "to do so to every

Spaniard in the world." Many, terrified by the rack, promised to

confess, really having nothing to disclose. These men were always

cruelly put to death in revenge. One mulatto was bound hand and foot and

thrown alive into the sea to intimidate the rest, and to induce two

survivors to show the French chief the nearest road to the neighbouring

town of San Pedro.

For this expedition Lolonnois selected 300 men, leaving his lieutenant,

Moses Vauclin, to govern in his absence, and despatching a few of his

small flotilla to help him by a diversion on the coast. Before starting,

he told his companions that he would never refuse to march at their

head, but that he should kill with his own hand "the first who turned

tail." San Pedro was only ten leagues distant. He had not proceeded

three before he fell into an ambuscade.

The Spaniards' favourite scheme of attack was the treacherous

surprise--a mere sort of attempt at wholesale assassination--seldom

successful, and always exasperating the enemy to greater cruelties. They

had now entrenched themselves behind gabions in a narrow road,

impassable on either side with trees and strong thickets. Lolonnois

instantly striking down the guides, whether innocent or guilty, charged

the enemy with desperate courage, and put them to flight after a long

encounter, ending in a total rout. They killed a few Buccaneers and left

many of their own men dead upon the ground. The wounded Spaniards, being

first questioned as to the distance from San Pedro, and the best way to

get there, were instantly beheaded. The prisoners informed him that

some runaway slaves, escaped from Porto Cavallo, had told them of the

intended attack on San Pedro. Determined to prevent this, they had

planned the ambuscade, and two other still stronger earthworks which

awaited him further on. To prevent connivance, or any possible

treachery, Lolonnois then had the Spaniards brought before him one by

one, and demanded of each in turn if there was no means of getting into

another and less guarded road. On their each denying that there was, he

grew frenzied and almost mad at the thoughts of such inevitable danger,

and had them all murdered but two; and then, in ungovernable passion, he

ripped open with his cutlass the breast of one of these survivors, who

was bound to a tree. Esquemeling asserts that he even tore out his heart

and gnawed it "like a ravenous wolf," swearing and shouting that he

would serve them all alike if they did not show him another way. The

miserable survivor, willing to save his life at any risk, his memory or

invention quickened by the imminent danger, conducted him into another

path, but so bad a one that Lolonnois preferred to return to the old one

in spite of all its perils, so difficult, slow, and laborious was the

march. He now seems to have grown almost fevered with rage, anxiety, and

vexation. "Mon Dieu," he growled, "les Espagnols me le payeront," and he

cursed the delay that kept him from the enemy.

There is no doubt that in these men a fanatical and almost superstitious

hatred of the enemy had sprung up, inflamed by mutual cruelties, for

forgiveness was not the chief virtue of the victorious Spaniard. To the

Buccaneer the Spaniard seemed cruel, cowardly, treacherous, and

degraded; to the Spaniard the Buccaneer seemed a monster scarcely

human--bloody, voluptuous, faithless, and rapacious.

That same evening the chief fell into a second ambuscade, which, says

Esquemeling, "he assaulted with such horrible fury" that in less than an

hour's time he routed the Spaniards and killed the greater part of them,

the rest flying to the third ambush, which was planted about two

leagues from the town. The Spaniards had thought, by these repeated

attacks, to destroy the enemy piecemeal, and for this object, which they

did not attain, frittered their forces into small and useless

detachments.

Lolonnois and his people, weary with fighting and marching, and

half-fainting with hunger and thirst, lay down in the wood that night,

and slept till the morning, the _matelots_ keeping good watch and ward,

and guarding their sleeping companions. At daybreak they resumed their

journey, with confidence increased by the clear light and with bodies

invigorated by rest. The third ambuscade was stronger and more

advantageously placed than even the two preceding. They attacked it with

showers of fire-balls, and drove out the enemy, slaying without mercy,

and giving no quarter. "No quarter, no quarter," cried their ferocious

leader, still thirsty for human blood, when they would have stayed their

hands, from exhaustion rather than from pity. "The more we kill here,

the less we shall meet in the town," was his war-cry. Very few of the

enemy escaped to San Pedro, the greater part being either slain or

wounded.

Before they ventured to make the final attack, the Buccaneers rested to

look to their arms and prepare their ammunition. In vain they attempted

to discover a second approach. There was but one, and that was well

barricaded, and planted all round with thorny shrubs, which the best

shod traveller could not pass, much less barefooted men, clad only in a

shirt and drawers. These thorns, Oexmelin says, were more dangerous than

those crow's-feet used in Europe to annoy cavalry.

Lolonnois, seeing that no other way was left, and that delay would imply

fear in his own men, and excite hope in the enemy, resolved to storm the

works, in spite of the rage and despair of a well-armed and superior

force, sheltered from shot and commanding his approach. "The Spaniards,"

says Esquemeling, "posted behind the said defences, seeing the pirates

come, began to ply them with their great guns; but these, perceiving

them ready to fire, used to stoop down, and then the shot was made to

fall upon the defendants with fire-balls and naked swords, killing many

of the town." Driven back for a time, they renewed the attack with fewer

men; husbanding their shot, for they were now short of powder; never

shooting at a long distance; and seldom firing but with great

deliberation when an enemy's head appeared above the rampart; and

occasionally giving a general discharge, in which nearly every bullet

killed an enemy. Several times the Buccaneers advanced to the very

mouths of the guns, and, throwing down fire-balls into the works, leaped

after them, sword in hand, through the embrasures; but only to be again

driven back.

This obstinate combat, so eager on both sides, had lasted about four

hours, and night was fast approaching, when Lolonnois, ordering a last

furious attack, put the now weakened Spaniards to flight, a great number

of them being killed as soon as they turned their backs. The citizens

then hung out a white flag, and, coming to a parley, agreed to surrender

the town on condition of receiving two hours' respite. During this

time, Lolonnois found that he had lost about thirty men, ten more being

wounded. This demand of two hours was employed by the towns-people in

loading themselves with their riches and preparing for flight--the

Buccaneers virtuously abstaining from any molestation till the time had

duly expired, and then pursuing the fugitives and plundering them of

every _maravedi_. But neither their self-denial nor their vigilance was

well rewarded, for fortune gave them nothing but a few leather sacks

full of indigo, the rest, even in that short time, having been buried or

destroyed--a disappointment which, we think, no reasonable person can

regret. Lolonnois had particularly ordered that not only all the goods

should be seized, but that every fugitive should be made prisoner.

The Buccaneer chief, having stayed a few days at San Pedro, and

"committed most horrid insolences," was anxious to send for a new

reinforcement, and attack the town of Guatimala--a place a long way

distant, and defended by 400 men. On his men as usual refusing to

accede to an apparently rash project, Lolonnois contented himself by

pillaging San Pedro, intending to impress a recollection of his visit

upon the grateful inhabitants by burning their town. He obtained no

great booty, for the inhabitants were a poor people, trading in nothing

but dyes. If he had chosen to carry away their stores of indigo, he

might have realised more than 40,000 crowns; but the Buccaneers cared

for nothing but coin and bullion, and were too ignorant, too lazy, and

too improvident to stop their debauches by loading their vessels with a

perishable cargo of uncertain value.

Having remained now eighteen days in San Pedro without obtaining much,

for the West Indian Spaniard had already learned to hide as skilfully as

the Hindoo ryot, Lolonnois called together his prisoners, and demanded

from them a ransom as the condition of sparing their town. They doggedly

answered, with all the insolence of despair, that he had taken from them

all they had, and that they had nothing more to give; that they could

not coin without gold, and that, as far as they went, he might do what

he liked to the town.

Lolonnois then reduced the town to ashes, and, marching to the sea-side

to rejoin his companions, found that they had been employing their time,

innocently and usefully, in capturing the fishing-boats of Guatimala.

Some Indians, newly taken, informed him that a _hourque_, a vessel of

800 tons, bringing goods from Spain to the Honduras, was then lying in

the great river of Guatimala. Resolving to careen and victual at the

islands on the other side of the gulf, they left two canoes at the mouth

of the river to give notice when the vessel should venture forth.

The time spent in thus watching outside the covert, they devoted to

turtle fishing, dividing themselves into parties, each having his own

station to prevent disputes. Their nets they made of the bark of the

macoa tree; a natural pitch or bitumen for their boats they found in

fused heaps upon the shore. The formation of this pitch, or "wax," as

Esquemeling calls it, the sailors attributed to wild bees; the hollow

trees in which they built being torn down by storms and swept down into

the sea. The rest of their time--which never seems to have been

wearisome, unless the subsequent mutiny indicates it, for these men had

the tenacity of a slot-hound in the pursuit of blood--was spent in

cruises among those Indians of the coast of Yucatan, who seek for amber

on the shore. These tribes were the willing serfs of Spain, having

served them without resistance for a full century. The Spaniards had, as

they believed, converted the whole nation to Christianity by sending a

priest to them once a-week, but, on their sudden return to idolatry, had

begun to persecute them, angry at their own failure.

According to the Buccaneers' account, these Indian chiefs worshipped

each a peculiar spirit, to whom they offered sacrifices of fire, burning

incense of sweet-scented gums. They had a singular custom of carrying

their new-born children into their temples, and leaving them for a night

in a hole filled with wood-ashes, generally in an open place, untended,

and where wild beasts could enter. Leaving the child here they found in

the morning the foot-prints of some wild beast on the ashes. To this

animal, whatever it might be, jaguar, snake, or cayman, they dedicated

the child, whose patron god it became. To this animal the child prayed

for vengeance against its enemies, and to it he offered sacrifices.

Their marriages were accompanied by a very beautiful and simple

ceremony. A young man, having satisfied his intended bride's father as

to his fitness to manage a plantation, was presented with a bow and

arrow. He then visits the maiden, and puts on her head a wreath of green

leaves and sweet-smelling flowers, taking off the crown usually worn by

virgins. A meeting of her relations is then called, the maize juice is

drunk, and the day after marriage the bride's garland is torn to pieces

with cries and lamentations.

In these islands the Buccaneers found canoes of the Aregues Indians,

which must have drifted 600 leagues. They had remained turtle-fishing

and amber-seeking about three months, when the welcome tidings came that

the enemy's vessel had ventured out. All hands were now employed in

preparing the careening ships. It was, however, at last agreed to wait

for its return, when, as they expected, it would not only contain

merchandise but money. They therefore sent their canoes to observe her

motions, and, hearing of the ambuscade, the Spaniards returned to port.

Lolonnois, as weary of delay as a greyhound is vexed by a hare's

repeated doubling, determined to do what Mahomet did when the mountain

would not go to him; since the Spaniards would not come to him, he went

himself to the Spaniards. Informed of their approach by spies, Indians

or fishermen, the vessel was prepared to receive him. The decks were

cleared, the boarding-nettings up, and the guns double-shotted. The

Spaniard carried fifty-six pieces of cannon, and the crew were well

provided with hand grenades, torches, fusees, and fire-balls, especially

on the quarter-deck and bows, and a crew of some 130 men stood armed and

threatening at their quarters. But Lolonnois cared for none of these

things, and the rich cargo shone, to his eye, through the ship's

transparent sides. With his small craft of twenty-two guns, with a

single fly-boat as his only ally, he boldly attacked the enemy, but was

at first beaten off.

To the Buccaneer a slight check was almost a certain precursor of

victory; waiting till about sixty of the Spanish sailors had fallen from

the fire of his deadly musketry, when their courage slackened, and the

smoke of their powder lay in a dark mist round the bulwarks, hiding his

movements, he boarded with four canoes, well manned. In spite of the

brave defence, the Buccaneers fought with such fury that they forced the

Spaniards to surrender.

Lolonnois then sent his boats up the river to secure a small patache,

which they knew lay near at hand, laden with plate, indigo, and

cochineal. But the inhabitants, alarmed at the capture of the larger

vessel, swept away from under their very eyes, saved the patache by

preventing her departure.

The booty of the prize was much less than was expected, the vessel being

already almost entirely unladen. Its cargo consisted of iron and paper,

and it still contained 20,000 reams of paper, and 100 tons of iron bars,

which had served as ballast. The few bales of merchandise were nothing

but linens, serges, and cloth, thread, and a few jars of wine. In the

return cargo there would have been at least a million in specie. These

heterogeneous articles were of no use to men who wanted nothing but coin

or jewels, lead or powder. Dividing the paper, they used it for napkins,

and other useless trifles, and several jars of almond and olive-oil were

wasted in the same reckless manner.

Having now accomplished their purpose, without much return for their

three months' patience, Lolonnois called a general council of the fleet,

and declared his intention of going to Guatimala. Upon this announcement

a division arose in the assembly, and the hoarse murmurs of a coming

tempest were heard around the speaker. Many of the adventurers, new to

the trade, could no longer conceal their weariness and their

disappointment. They had set sail from Tortuga with the feeling with

which a country boy comes to London. They had believed that pieces of

eight grew on the trees like pears, and had overlooked the dragons that

guarded the Hesperian trees. Having seen their predecessors return home

laden with the plunder of Maracaibo, many had overlooked the toil and

dangers by which it was won, in the sight of the joy and prodigality

with which it was lavished; they had seen only the rich pearls, and

forgotten the stormy seas from which they had been gathered. They were

weary of the hardships, and mutinous for want of food. The mere seeker

for gold could not endure what was submitted to by those who were

desirous of earning distinction. The older hands laughed at their

pinings, derided their complaints, and swore that they would rather die

and starve there, than return home with empty purses, to be the scorn

and laughing-stock of all Hispaniola. The majority of the experienced

men, foreseeing that the voyage to Nicaragua would not succeed, and was

"little to their purpose," separated from Lolonnois, and set sail

secretly in the swift sailing vessel that Moses Vauclin had captured in

the port of Cavallo, and which he now commanded, boasting, with reason,

that it was the swiftest sailing vessel that had been seen in the West

Indies for fifty years. With Moses Vauclin went Pierre le Picard, who,

seeing others desert Lolonnois, resolved to do the same.

Steering homewards, the fugitives coasted along the whole continent till

they came to Costa Rica, where they landed a good party, marched up to

Veraguas, and burnt the town, pillaging the Spaniards, who made a stout

resistance, carrying off a few prisoners, and obtaining a scanty booty

of some seven or eight pounds' worth of gold, which their slaves washed

from the mud of the rivers. Alarmed at the multitude of Spaniards that

began to gather round them, the marauders abandoned their design of

attacking the town of Nata, on the south sea-coast, although many rich

merchants lived there, whose slaves worked in the gold-washings of

Veraguas. Returning to Tortuga, these undisciplined men, impatient of

poverty, united themselves under the flag of a noble adventurer, the

Chevalier du Plessis, who had just arrived in the Indies, poor and

proud, and prepared to cruise against the Spaniard in those seas.

Vauclin being an experienced pilot, well acquainted with the turtle

islands, and every key and reef the surf washed from California to Cape

Horn, was taken into favour by the titled privateersman, who promised

him the first prize he captured, if he would sail in his company. But a

serious difficulty arose in the execution of this liberal promise, for

the Chevalier was soon after shot through the head while grappling with

a Spanish ship of thirty-six guns, and Moses was elected captain in his

stead. In his first cruise, the brave deserter was fortunate enough to

take a cocoa vessel from the Havannah, with a cargo valued at 150,000

livres.

During this time, Lolonnois and his men remained alone and deserted in

the gulf of Honduras. He was now in some distress, short of provisions,

and in a vessel too "great to get out at the reflux of those seas." His

300 men had no food but that which they contrived to kill daily on

shore, living chiefly on the flesh of parrots and monkeys. By day they

generally fished or hunted, by night, taking advantage of the land

breeze, they sailed painfully on till they rounded Cape Gracias a Dios,

and slowly the Pearl Islands hove in sight. Staunch and inexorable,

Lolonnois, amid all the tedium of this enervating idleness, still

nourished the project of making a swoop down upon Nicaragua, intending

to leave his cumbrous vessel behind, and row up the river St. John in

canoes, until he reached the lake. But the same reason that made his

vessel lag behind those of his companions, now drove it ashore in a

shallow near Cape Gracias, where it drew too much water to be

extricated. In vain he unloaded his guns and iron, and used every means

that experience and ingenuity could suggest to lighten the ship, and

float her again into deep water. Always firm and resolute, Lolonnois at

once determined to break her to pieces on the sand-shoal, and with her

planks and nails to construct a boat.

His men, with perfect _sang froid_, not even impatient at the loss, much

less afraid of danger, escaping to land, began to build Indian

_ajoupas_, or huts. Lolonnois, accustomed to such reverses, concealed

his chagrin, if he even felt any. Regardless of himself, he adjured his

men to lose no courage, for he knew of a means of escape, and, what was

more, a way to make their fortune yet, before they returned to Tortuga.

Prepared for every emergency, and even for the longest delay, part of

the crew were at once employed in planting peas and other vegetables,

the remainder in fishing and hunting, all but the few who worked busily

at the boat in which Nicaragua was to be visited. In spite of desertion,

failure, wreck, and famine, Lolonnois held on to the plan of the

expedition, which he deemed cowardly and shameful to abandon. The men,

confident in the sagacity and courage of their leader, surrendered

themselves like children to his guidance.

The Indians of the Perlas Islands, on which they had struck, were a

fierce and untamable race, strong and agile, swift as horses, hardy

divers, brave but cruel, warlike, and man-eaters. Their wooden clubs

were jagged with crocodiles' teeth; they had no bows or arrows, but

used lances a fathom and a-half long. They built no huts, and lived on

fruits grown in plantations cleared from the forest. Fishers and

swimmers, they were so dexterous as to be able to bring up with a rope

an anchor of 600 cwt. from a rock, a feat which Esquemeling himself saw

a few of them perform. The seamen in vain attempted to propitiate these

wild freemen, to serve them as guides or hunters. At last, finding a

great number together, and pursuing the fugitives, they tracked five men

and four women to a cave, and took much pains to propitiate them. The

captives remaining obstinately silent, as if from fear, in spite of the

food that was given them, were dismissed with presents of knives and

beads. They left, promising to return; "but soon forgot their

_benefactors_," says Esquemeling, disgustfully. The sailors believed

that at night all the Indians swam to a neighbouring island, as they

never saw either boat or Indian again.

Some time before this the Frenchmen's terror had been excited by the

discovery that these Indians were cannibals. Two Buccaneers, a Frenchman

and a Spaniard, had straggled into the woods in search of game. Pursued

by a troop of savages, the latter, after a desperate struggle, was

captured, and heard of no more; the former, the swifter footed of the

two, escaped. A few days after, an armed party of a dozen Flibustiers,

led by this survivor, went into the same part of the forest to see if

they could find any traces of the Indian encampment. Near the place

where the Spaniard had fallen into the ambush they discovered the ashes

of a fire, still warm, and among the embers some human bones, well

scraped, and a white man's hand with two fingers half roasted, but still

unconsumed.

For six months, till the long-boat was completed, the Buccaneers lived

on Spanish wheat, bananas, and on the fruits and green crops which they

had sown on landing. Their bread they baked in portable ovens saved from

the wreck.

Lolonnois now once more prepared to carry out his unabandoned project.

With part of his crew he resolved to row up the river of Nicaragua, to

capture some canoes, and return to fetch away those whom the new boat

would not hold. The men cast lots for the choice of sailing with him. He

took about one-half of the shipwrecked crew with him, part in the

long-boat and part in a skiff which had been saved when the larger

vessel drove on the bank. They arrived in a few days at Desaguadera,

near Nicaragua, but attacked on the beach by an overpowering number of

Spaniards and Indians, they were driven back to their boats, with the

loss of many men, and escaped with difficulty, beaten and desponding.

Lolonnois, now fairly at bay with fortune, still resolved neither to

return to Tortuga ragged and penniless, nor to rejoin his comerades till

he had obtained a sufficient number of canoes to embark his companions.

In order the better to obtain provisions he divided his men into two

bands. The one party proceeded to the Cape Gracias a Dios, where they

were well received; the other sailed to Boca del Toro, on the coast of

Carthagena, where adventurers frequently repaired for turtle and other

provisions, intending to embark in the first friendly vessel that should

arrive.

Nicaragua was still destined to remain unscathed. "God Almighty," says

Esquemeling, who writes with some bitterness, and probably much

hypocrisy, "the time of His divine justice being now come, had appointed

the Indians of Darien to be the instruments and executioners thereof."

Landing at a place called the La Pointe a Diegue to obtain fresh water,

Lolonnois and his men, weary of "wave, and wind, and oar," drew their

canoes to land, and threw up entrenchments, knowing that they were now

in the neighbourhood of the Bravo Indians, the most savage race known on

the mainland--as cruel as sharks, and as numerous and greedy of blood as

the vultures. He himself and a few others, passing the river, near the

Gulf of Darien, landed in order to sack a town and obtain provisions.

Here this modern Ulysses found a termination to his troubles and his

life, for, being taken prisoner by the Indians, he was killed, chopped

to pieces, and devoured. Many of his companions were also burnt alive,

and but a few escaped to Tortuga, by the detail of their horrors to

check for a few days the love of adventure in the minds of its restless

and impetuous adventurers.

Esquemeling, or his English translator--who generally considers it

necessary to conclude his chapters with a sanctimonious moral, a snuffle

of the nose, and a lifting up of the eyes--says, "Hither Lolonnois came

(brought by his evil conscience that cried for punishment), thinking to

act his cruelties; but the Indians, within a few days after his arrival,

took him prisoner, throwing his body limb by limb into the fire, and his

ashes into the air (_virtuous indignation_), that no trace or memory

might remain of such an infamous, inhuman creature.... Thus ends the

history, the life, and the miserable death of that infernal wretch,

Lolonnois, who, full of horrid, execrable, and enormous deeds, and

debtor to so much innocent blood, died by cruel and butcherly hands,

such as his own were in the course of his life." Towards the conclusion

of his malediction Esquemeling's wrath unfortunately gets much the

better of his grammar.

The men left behind in the island de las Perlas, after long waiting for

their companions--who had only escaped Scylla to run into

Charybdis--were taken off by an English adventurer, who, collecting a

body of 500 men, resolved on an expedition to the mainland. Ascending

the river Moustique, near Cape Gracias, he sailed on, expecting to find

some inlet to the lake of Nicaragua, round which Lolonnois' men still

hovered. The expedition started full of hope, for the shipwrecked men

were rejoiced at ending ten months of suffering, anxiety, and privation.

The result was worse than mere disappointment. In fifteen days they

reached no Spanish town, but only some poor Indian villages, which they

found deserted by the natives, who, aware of their coming, had fled,

carrying off all the produce of their plantations. These they burnt in

their rage, and marched recklessly onwards. They had carried no

provision with them, expecting to find everywhere sufficient; and, to

render their condition worse, had brought all their 500 men, except five

or six who were left to guard each vessel. "These their hopes," says

Esquemeling--turning up as usual the whites of his eyes--who looks with

great contempt on all unsuccessful attempts at thieving, "were found

totally vain, _as not being grounded_." In a few days the hope of

plunder, which had first animated them, grew clouded by despondency.

Scarcity rapidly became want, and they were reduced to such extreme

necessity and hunger that they gathered the plants that grew on the

river's bank for food. In a fortnight their courage and vigour had

entirely gone; their hearts sank, and their bodies were wasted by

famine.

Leaving the river they took to the woods, seeking for Indian villages

where they might obtain food. Ranging up and down the woods for some

days in a fruitless search, they returned to the river, now their only

guide, and struck back towards the point of coast where their ships lay.

In this laborious journey they were reduced to much extremity--eating

their shoes, their leather belts, and the very sheaths of their knives

and swords. They grew at last so ravenous as to resolve to kill and

devour the first Indian they could meet; but they could not obtain one

either for food or as a guide. Some fell sick, and, fainting by the

wayside, were left to perish. Many were killed and eaten by the Indians,

and others died of starvation. At last they reached the shore, and,

finding some comfort and relief to their present miseries, at once set

sail to encounter more. After remaining some time on land, they

re-embarked, but a quarrel arising between the French and English

Buccaneers, who seldom kept long friends, they separated into small

parties, and engaged in fresh expeditions.