_The Plunder; the Carousal; and the New Enterprise._
Gibraltar in Ashes.--The Return to Maracaibo.--Division of
the Plunder.--Peculiar Scene.--Reception of the Pirates
at Tortuga.--Fiend-like Carousal.--The Pirates Reduced
to Beggary.--Lolonois’s New Enterprise.--The “Furious
Calm.”--Days of Disaster.--Ravaging the Coast.--Capture
of San Pedro.
Disease was now cutting down the pirates faster than the bullets or
sabres of the Spaniards had done. The victors, with an abundance of
gold and booty, were starving. The provisions in the place were all
consumed, and no fresh supplies had been brought in. The woe-stricken
wretches were quarrelling among themselves about the division of the
spoil.
Lolonois sent several parties of men into the region around, to search
out fugitives from Gibraltar, and say to them that if, within two days,
they would send in to him fifty-eight thousand dollars, he would not
burn the city; otherwise he would lay every building in ashes. He set
at liberty several of his prisoners also, to convey to their friends
the same information. Disappointed in the money he had found, he still
believed that large sums had been secreted by the fugitives.
The two days passed, and the money did not come. Lolonois set fire to
the four corners of the town, and in six hours reduced it to ashes.
By beat of drum he assembled his sick and starving men, and embarked,
with all the riches which were movable. He took several captives with
him, male and female. Sailing down the bay, they soon reached Maracaibo.
Quite a number of the inhabitants, who had returned tremblingly to
their desolated homes, he captured. Beggared as the poor creatures
already were, the merciless pirate said to them:
“If you will supply me with five hundred cows, and bring me thirty
thousand dollars in coin, I will spare your city. If you do not yield
to this demand, I will treat your city as I have served Gibraltar. Not
one building shall be left standing.”
The cows were driven in. The money was paid. The people, still
trembling, and not daring to manifest their joy, saw these Goths and
Vandals of modern times, spread their sails, and slowly disappear
in the distant horizon. But who can imagine the condition in which
the town was left? The people were utterly despoiled. The homes were
desolated. Widows and orphans wept and wailed, with life-long penury
before them. Not a few of the people with ruined constitutions,
tottered through the streets, slowly recovering from the crushings and
the lacerations of the rack. When we read of such crimes perpetrated by
man upon his brother, one almost shrinks from owning himself a man. And
the weary heart finds little comfort in the thought that the Spaniards
deserved it all. These woes came upon them as a righteous retribution.
With equal cruelty they had treated the native Cubans, the Mexicans,
and the Peruvians.
The fleet sailed for Gonaves on the Island of Hispaniola. There the
spoil was to be divided. Each one took a solemn oath, on the Bible,
that he had concealed nothing, but that he had thrown everything into
the public stock.
The gathering of the pirates for this distribution on the shores of a
lovely bay of the Island of St. Domingo, must have presented a very
singular spectacle. In the centre of a small verdant lawn, spread upon
the grass, were bales of richest silk; cloths of great variety of
texture; baskets of gold and silver coin, pistols, sabres, and muskets
of the best construction, and costly jewels, and golden cups, vases,
and ornaments, of which the churches had been despoiled. Around stood
wild groups of heavily armed, half-naked pirates, in ferocity of aspect
resembling fiends rather than men. Some countenances were disfigured
with sabre gashes; while some hobbled upon crutches. Native Indians
had gathered around, their long, black hair streaming in the wind,
and their almost naked bodies shining like coin fresh from the mint.
Several Spanish captives were there, men and women, looking sadly on
at the distribution of the wealth of which their own homes had been
plundered. There were also a large number of negro slaves present,
with their black limbs and woolly, hatless heads, whom the pirates had
brought with them to perform their heavy or menial tasks.
After an exact calculation of the whole spoil in coin, jewels, and
goods, the sum total was estimated at only about five hundred thousand
dollars. The property was really worth much more. But a very low
estimate was placed upon most of the goods. Silver in bullion was
valued at eight dollars a pound. The pirates were so ignorant of the
real value of jewels, that they were prized at nothing like their real
worth. Many of the stores and fabrics were also greatly undervalued.
Still, even at this low estimate, the average was over a thousand
dollars for each pirate. Having finished this important business,
they set sail for Tortuga, where most of them were, in a few days, to
squander all the fruits of their robberies and murders, in the most
riotous dissipation. After a four-weeks’ voyage they reached the great
rendezvous of the buccaneers. The island was crowded with gamblers and
abandoned women, and every conceivable haunt of dissipation.
For three weeks Tortuga presented a spectacle of frenzied and maddened
carousal, which could not have been surpassed. Men, insane with
drink, rushed through the streets, slashing with their sabres in all
directions. Casks of rum and wine were placed in the streets, standing
on end, with the heads knocked out, and every passer-by was compelled
to drink. The women, more loathsome in their wickedness than the men,
reeled through the thoroughfares, in the richest silks and satins, and
bedecked with glittering jewelry of which a duchess might be proud.
There were oaths and brawls and bloody duels. In the delirium of these
demoniac orgies gold watches were fried for a costly breakfast, and
were served up with boiled pearls and jewels.
Two French vessels chanced just then to enter the port, laden with wine
and brandy. This was throwing fresh fuel upon the fiery conflagration
of violence, sin, and shame then raging in this miniature city of all
the fiends. In the course of three weeks nearly all of these thieves
had squandered everything. The riches they had gained by murder and
the endurance and the infliction of untold miseries, had all passed
into the hands of the gamblers, the liquor dealers, and the abandoned
women. John Esquemeling, who witnessed these scenes, of which he wrote
an account, says that the governor of the island bought of these
buccaneers a shipload of cocoa, for not one-twentieth part its real
value. He sent it to Europe, and realized over five hundred thousand
dollars from the profits. Lolonois, though fiercely brave, and with
unusual native strength of mind, was a low, degraded, brutal man. He
indulged in these bacchanal orgies with the meanest of his crew. No one
was guilty of greater excesses. No one sank to greater depths in the
mire of loathsome wickedness. Not one short month had passed ere he was
reeling through the streets a filthy and ragged beggar. He was also
deeply involved in debt.
He could conceive of but one mode of extrication. That was to set out
upon another piratic expedition. The ravages of the pirates had been so
great that the commerce of those seas was almost annihilated. Merchant
ships abandoned the ocean, unless attended by a very strong convoy.
This it was which led the buccaneers to go in fleets, so as to land
in sufficient strength to desolate the coasts and to sack towns and
cities.
Lolonois’s success had given him high reputation as a pirate. There
were many on the island ready to furnish him with the means for
another adventure. There were hundreds of penniless, starving wretches
staggering through the streets, eager to enlist under his banner for
any service whatever. Inscrutable is the mystery of God’s government.
He has allowed miniature hells to exist on earth, and to be crowded
with demons in human form. No philosophy, no theology can explain this.
The heart, in its anguish, often cries out, “O Lord, how long! how
long!” Faith tremblingly and sadly exclaims, “What we know not now we
shall know hereafter.”
This demoniac man had sense enough to abandon his cups, until his brain
was sufficiently clear to organize, even to its details, the plan for a
new expedition. The enterprise was communicated to a few men of capital
and unscrupulous shrewdness. Money was promptly raised. Six vessels
were purchased. There were generally vessels enough in the harbor, from
the prizes that were brought in, and from the large number of piratic
ships.
Lolonois placarded a proclamation upon the walls, calling for
volunteers. More than seven hundred eager applicants thronged his
doors. Three hundred of these he took, with himself, on board his
largest ship. The rest were placed in five other ships. None but the
leading officers were informed of the destination of the fleet.
They first sailed to a port called Bayaha, on the Island of San
Domingo, then, as we have mentioned, called Hispaniola; or Little
Spain. Here they filled their water-casks and supplied themselves with
provisions. Thence they sailed to Matamana, a solitary but commodious
harbor on the south side of Cuba. This region was famous for its rich
turtles. Native Cuban fishermen, in large boats, pursued these animals,
alike valuable for their flesh and their shells. The pirates were fond
of turtle soup. Lolonois needed a large number of boats, that he might
simultaneously land the crews, from his ships, upon any doomed city.
These poor men were mercilessly robbed of their boats, into many of
which forty sailors could be crowded. The poor fishermen, having no
other means of subsistence, were overwhelmed with grief and dismay.
Lolonois was as heedless of their sorrows as he was of the manifest
trouble of the tortoise when deprived of its young. Again they spread
their sails, and had advanced about three hundred miles along the
southern coast of Cuba, when they were overtaken by what the Spaniards
call a “furious calm.”
For four weeks there was not a breath of air. Day after day the
tropical sun rose, pouring down upon their blistered decks his
scorching rays. The cabins became as furnaces. There was relief
nowhere. The pirates swore, prayed, called upon the Virgin and
the saints. All was in vain. Twenty eight days of this terrible
imprisonment passed slowly away. In the mean time a strong, but
imperceptible and resistless current swept them along into the Gulf of
Honduras, which deeply penetrates the eastern coast of Central America.
Upon leaving Cuba, the crews had been informed of the enterprise before
them. They were to coast along the province of Nicaragua and plunder
all its settlements, great and small.
This important Spanish province extended entirely across the Isthmus
of Panama, then called Darien, from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific
Ocean. It was bounded on the north by Honduras, and on the south by
Costa Rica. By the current, the pirates had been swept nearly five
hundred miles west of the point which they wished to make. To return,
they must coast, for that distance, along the bleak, almost uninhabited
northern shore of Honduras.
The Gulf stream, pouring into the Bay of Honduras, pressed strongly
against them. The calm was followed by fresh winds. But these winds
were strong and contrary. It was impossible to beat against both wind
and current.
Another dreary month thus passed away, as they struggled against
adversity. Their provisions were consumed. Their water-casks were
empty. Famine compelled them to seek the land. Entering the mouth of a
large river, which they called Xagua, and which afforded a harbor for
their fleet, they cast anchor. The region was quite densely inhabited
by Indians, inoffensive and friendly. They had for some years conducted
trade with the Spaniards, which was profitable to both parties. The
Indians received, in exchange for cocoa, articles from Europe, to them
of priceless value.
There were many picturesque Indian villages, scattered along the
banks of the river, beneath cocoa groves, and surrounded by orange
plantations and fields of Indian corn. The natives had also learned
the value of swine and poultry, and were well supplied with both. When
they saw the fleet approaching they were not alarmed, but rejoiced, as
they were eager both to sell and to buy. They sprang into their canoes,
loading them with vegetables, fruit, and fowls, and with smiling faces
paddled out to the ships.
How shall I describe the scenes which ensued? Burke, I think, says,
“to speak of atrocious crime in mild language is treason to virtue.”
These incarnate fiends shot down the poor Indians, men and women, in
mere wantonness--for the fun of it. Boats filled with these armed
demons then went ashore. They shot the men, as they could. They took
many women captives. They stripped the Indians of everything, swine,
poultry, fruit, corn, and then burned their villages.
The renowned French historian, Michelet, though an unbeliever in
the Christian religion, says that when writing the account of the
atrocities perpetrated by the ancient nobility of France upon the
peasantry, he found himself praying to God that there might be
some future punishment, where these tyrants, clothed in purple and
sumptuously feeding, might receive the due award for their crimes.
The amount of food obtained, furnished but a few days’ supply for seven
hundred hungry mouths. Lolonois decided to remain there at anchor until
the weather should prove more favorable. In the mean time he sent his
armed boats up the river and along the shores in both directions for
indiscriminate plunder. The whole region was devastated. The terrified
Indians fled in all directions, taking with them what they could.
Notwithstanding the utmost diligence of the plunderers, they could each
day bring in barely enough for the day’s supply.
When the pirates had got everything here upon which they could lay
their hands, they weighed anchor and worked their way slowly along
the coast several leagues, until they reached a harbor called Port
Cavallo. This was a trading-post of the Spaniards. They had here two
capacious store-houses, to hold the goods which they received from the
natives, and the articles brought from Spain to give to them in return.
Ships occasionally arrived with fresh supplies, and to transport the
purchases to Spain.
There was at that time in the harbor a large Spanish ship, which
mounted twenty-four guns and sixteen mortars. But this one ship could
make no effectual resistance against the fleet of the pirates. It was
immediately seized. Its cargo had been mostly unloaded and carried back
into the country, to be exchanged, in barter, with the Indians. They
stripped the store-houses, and plundered and destroyed all the adjacent
dwellings. They captured many prisoners, and put them to dreadful
torture to compel them to confess, often when they had nothing which
they could disclose.
Lolonois hacked them to pieces with his sabre; tore out their tongues;
dislocated their joints with the rack. He committed upon them, writes
Esquemeling, “the most insolent and inhuman cruelties that ever
heathens invented, putting them to the cruelest tortures they could
imagine or devise. Oftentimes it happened that some of these miserable
prisoners, being forced thereunto by the rack, would promise to
discover the places where the fugitive Spaniards lay hidden; which,
being not able afterward to perform, they were put to more enormous and
cruel deaths than they who were killed before.”
About twenty miles from Port Cavallo there was, not far from the coast,
a small but thriving town called San Pedro. Lolonois took three hundred
men and commenced his march to sack the place. He left his lieutenant,
Moses Vauclin, in command of the men who were left behind with the
ships. A few boats, well armed, were sent along the coast to render
such assistance as might be needful. Before starting he told his troops
that he would always march at their head, sharing all their dangers;
but that he would cut down the first one who manifested any disposition
to retreat or gave the least sign of fear.
There were no broad roads to traverse, but only intricate mule-paths,
which could with difficulty be followed through the dense growth of
a tropical forest. Two Spanish captives were taken as guides. The
inhabitants of San Pedro, informed of their approach, sent out a party
of men to intrench themselves in ambush on the way. The narrow road led
through gigantic forests with almost impenetrable thickets of brambles
and thorns and interlacing vines on either side.
When the pirates had advanced about nine miles, the Spaniards in ambush
opened fire upon them. Taking deliberate aim, at the first discharge
many of the pirates were killed, and more wounded. The battle which
ensued was desperate on both sides. Lolonois, assuming that his guides
had led him into the ambush, instantly cut them both down.
The fury of the pirates was irresistible, and the Spaniards were put
to flight. They left behind many dead and wounded. The pirates put to
death all of the wounded, excepting one or two whom they reserved as
guides. These they threatened with instant death if they did not guide
them safely to the city. There was but one available path leading
there. Intimidated by the awful threats of Lolonois, when he asked them
if there were other ambuscades farther on, they said that there were.
He then asked them if there were not some other path to the city, by
which they could avoid the ambuscades. The guides replied that they did
not know of any.
Lolonois was in a great rage. He drew his sabre and cut one of the
captives to pieces before the rest. He cut out his heart, seized it,
and began to gnaw it, like a ravenous wolf. Then turning to the other
captives, he said:
“I swear unto you, by the death of God, that I will serve you all the
same way if you do not lead me to the city by another route.”
Terror-stricken, the poor creatures endeavored to lead through the
thickets. But they could not force their way. Lolonois was compelled
to return to the former path. But he swore the most terrible oaths
that the Spaniards should pay dearly for causing him so much trouble.
The same evening they encountered another ambuscade. Lolonois fell
upon his foes with the same fury with which the tiger leaps upon its
prey, apparently regardless of his own life, if he can but destroy his
victim. In less than an hour the Spaniards were routed, and scarcely
one escaped.
The pirates, though victorious, were faint with fatigue, hunger, and
thirst. They threw themselves down in the woods that night, and,
probably with consciences utterly seared, slept that sound sleep which
toil and danger often bring.
The next morning, at break of day, the pirates resumed their march.
Ere long, they came upon a third ambuscade. This was much stronger and
better planned than either of the others. The pirates had provided
themselves with a large number of fire-balls, which they showered down
with much effect upon their foes. Lolonois seemed inspired with the
fury of a madman. He foamed at the mouth and gnashed his teeth as he
shouted:
“No quarter; no quarter! The more we kill here, the less we shall meet
in the town.”
But few of the Spaniards escaped to San Pedro. Nearly all were killed;
for the wounded were immediately dispatched. The pirates had now
arrived within sight of the town. There was but one narrow approach,
and that the Spaniards had thoroughly barricaded. The thorny shrubs
which grew densely around were utter impenetrable. Nothing remained for
the pirates but to make an instantaneous attempt to storm the works.
Several times they were driven back, but only to renew the conflict
with increasing fury. This conflict, of fiend-like ferocity, continued
four hours. The white flag of surrender was then unfurled from the town.
After a brief parley, the citizens agreed to yield up the town, without
further resistance, if they were allowed two hours to retire with such
articles as they could take away with them. Lolonois, who in this last
battle had lost forty men, agreed to the terms. The Spaniards, with
their wives and children, fled, with such few articles as they could
carry in their arms or on the backs of mules.