THE ROAD TO PANAMA
The Maroons--The native city--The great tree--Panama--The silver
train--The failure--Venta Cruz
When the Spanish prize had been warped to her berth at Slaughter Island,
Drake called his men together, with the chiefs of the Maroons, to a
solemn council of war about the fire. He then discussed with them, with
his usual care, the equipment necessary for an undertaking of the kind
in hand. He was going to cross the isthmus with them, those "20 leagues
of death and misery," in order to surprise one of the recuas, or
treasure trains, as it wandered north upon the road from Panama to
Nombre de Dios. It was, as he says, "a great and long journey," through
jungles, across swamps, and up precipitous crags. Any error in equipment
would be paid for in blood. It was essential, therefore, that they
should strictly debate "what kind of weapons, what store of victuals,
and what manner of apparel" would be fittest for them. The Maroons
"especially advised" him "to carry as great store of shoes as possibly
he might, by reason of so many rivers with stone and gravel as they were
to pass." This advice was followed by all hands, who provided themselves
with a good store of boots and spare leather, thereby saving themselves
from much annoyance from jiguas, or jiggers, and the venomous leeches of
the swamps. The sickness had destroyed twenty-eight of the company.
Three had died of wounds or in battle, and one had died from cold and
exposure in the pinnace. Of the remaining forty-two Drake selected
eighteen of the best. A number were still ill abed, and these he left
behind in the care of Ellis Hixom and his little band of shipkeepers.
The dried meat and biscuit were then packed carefully into bundles. The
eighteen took their weapons, with such necessaries as they thought they
might require. Drake called Hixom aside, and gave him "straight charge,
in any case not to trust any messenger that should come in his name with
any tokens, unless he brought his handwriting: which he knew could not
be counterfeited by the Cimaroons or Spaniards." A last farewell was
taken; thirty brawny Cimmeroons swung the packs upon their shoulders,
shaking their javelins in salute. The shipkeepers sounded "A loath to
depart," and dipped their colours. The forty-eight adventurers then
formed into order, and marched away into the forest on their perilous
journey.
Having such stalwart carriers, the English were able to march light,
"not troubled with anything but our furniture." The Maroons carried
"every one of them two sorts of arrows" in addition to the packs of
victuals, for they had promised to provide fresh food upon the march for
all the company. "Every day we were marching by sun-rising," says the
narrative, taking the cool of the morning before the sun was hot. At
"ten in the forenoon" a halt was called for dinner, which they ate in
quiet "ever near some river." This halt lasted until after twelve. Then
they marched again till four, at which time they sought out a river-bank
for their camping ground. Often they slept in old huts built by the
Indians "when they travelled through these woods," but more frequently
the Maroons built them new ones, having a strange skill in that craft.
Then they would light little fires of wood inside the huts, giving a
clear red glow, with just sufficient smoke to keep away mosquitoes. They
would sup pleasantly together there, snugly sheltered from the rain if
any fell; warm if it were cold, as on the hills; and cool if it were
hot, as in the jungle. When the Indians had lit their little "light
Wood" candles these huts must have been delightful places, full of jolly
talk and merry music. Outside, by the river-brink, the frogs would
croak; and, perhaps, the adventurers heard "the shriekings of Snakes and
other Insects," such as scared Lionel Wafer there about a century later.
Those who ventured out into the night were perplexed by the innumerable
multitude of fireflies that spangled the darkness with their golden
sparks. In the mornings the brilliant blue and green macaws aroused them
with their guttural cries "like Men who speak much in the Throat." The
chicaly bird began his musical quick cuckoo cry, the corrosou tolled out
his bell notes, the "waggish kinds of Monkeys" screamed and chattered in
the branches, playing "a thousand antick Tricks." Then the sun came up
in his splendour above the living wall of greenery, and the men buckled
on their gear, and fell in for the road.
As they marched, they sometimes met with droves of peccary or warree.
Then six Maroons would lay their burdens down, and make a slaughter of
them, bringing away as much of the dainty wild pork as they could carry.
Always they had an abundance of fresh fruit, such as "Mammeas" ("very
wholesome and delicious"), "Guavas, Palmitos, Pinos, Oranges, Lemons and
divers others." Then there were others which were eaten "first dry
roasted," as "Plantains, Potatoes, and such like," besides bananas and
the delicious sapadilloes. On one occasion "the Cimaroons found an
otter, and prepared it to be drest: our Captain marvelling at it. Pedro,
our chief Cimaroon, asked him, "Are you a man of war, and in want; and
yet doubt whether this be meat, that hath blood? Herewithal [we read]
our Captain rebuked himself secretly, that he had so slightly
considered of it before."
After three days' wandering in the woods the Maroons brought them to a
trim little Maroon town, which was built on the side of a hill by a
pretty river. It was surrounded by "a dyke of eight feet broad, and a
thick mud wall of ten feet high, sufficient to stop a sudden surpriser.
It had one long and broad street, lying east and west, and two other
cross streets of less breadth and length," containing in all some "five
or six and fifty households." It was "kept so clean and sweet, that not
only the houses, but the very streets were pleasant to behold"--a thing,
doubtless, marvellous to one accustomed to an Elizabethan English town.
"In this town we saw they lived very civilly and cleanly," for, as soon
as the company marched in, the thirty carriers "washed themselves in the
river and changed their apparel," which was "very fine and fitly made,"
after the Spanish cut. The clothes, by all accounts, were only worn on
state occasions. They were long cotton gowns, either white or rusty
black, "shap'd like our Carter's Frocks."
The town was thirty-five leagues from Nombre de Dios and forty-five from
Panama. It had been surprised the year before Drake came there (1572) by
150 Spanish troops under "a gallant gentleman," who had been guided
thither by a recreant Maroon. He attacked a little before the dawn, and
cut down many women and children, but failed to prevent the escape of
nearly all the men. In a little while they rallied, and attacked the
Spaniards with great fury, killing their guide and four-fifths of their
company. The wretched remnant straggled back as best they could "to
return answer to them which sent them." The natives living there at the
time of Drake's visit kept a continual watch some three miles from the
town, to prevent a second surprise. Any Spaniards whom they met they
"killed like beasts."
The adventurers passed a night in the town, and stayed until noon of the
day following. The Maroons told them stories of their battles with the
Spaniards, while Drake inquired into "their affection in religion." He
learned that they had no kind of priests; "only they held the Cross in
great reputation"--having, perhaps, learned so much of Christianity from
the Spaniards. Drake seems to have done a little earnest missionary
work, for he persuaded them "to leave their crosses, and to learn the
Lord's Prayer, and to be instructed in some measure concerning God's
true worship." After dinner on the 7th of February the company took to
the roads again, refusing to take any of the countless recruits who
offered their services. Four Maroons went on ahead to mark a trail by
breaking branches or flinging a bunch of leaves upon the ground. After
these four, marched twelve more Maroons as a sort of vanguard. Then came
Drake with his men and the two Maroon chiefs. Another troop of twelve
Maroons brought up the rear. The Maroons marched in strict silence,
"which they also required us to keep," for it is the custom among nearly
all savage folk to remain silent on the trail.
The way now led them through parts less swampy, and, therefore, less
densely tangled over than those nearer the "North Sea." "All the way was
through woods very cool and pleasant," says the narrative, "by reason of
those goodly and high trees, that grow there so thick." They were
mounting by slow degrees to the "ridge between the two seas," and the
woodland was getting clear of undergrowth. As later buccaneers have
noted, the upper land of the isthmus is wooded with vast trees, whose
branches shut out the sun. Beneath these trees a man may walk with
pleasure, or indeed ride, for there is hardly any undergrowth. The
branches are so thick together that the lower ground receives no
sunlight, and, therefore, little grows there. The heat of the sun is
shut out, and "it is cooler travelling there ... in that hot region,
than it is in ... England in the summer time." As the men began to
ascend, the Maroons told them that not far away there grew a great tree
about midway between the oceans, "from which we might at once discern
the North Sea from whence we came, and the South Sea whither we were
going." On the 11th of February, after four days of slow but steady
climbing, they "came to the height of the desired hill, a very high
hill, lying East and West, like a ridge between the two seas." It was
ten o'clock in the forenoon, the hour at which the dinner halt was made.
Pedro, the Maroon chief, now took Drake's hand, and "prayed him to
follow him if he was desirous to see at once the two seas which he had
so longed for." Drake followed Pedro to the hilltop, to the "goodly and
great high Tree," of which the Maroons had spoken. He found that they
had hacked out steps upon the bole, "to ascend up near unto the top,"
where they had built a pleasant little hut of branches thatched from the
sun, "wherein ten or twelve men might easily sit." "South and north of
this Tree" the Maroons had felled certain trees "that the prospect might
be the clearer." At its base there was a number of strong houses "that
had been built long before," perhaps by an older people than the
Cimmeroons. The tree seems to have been a place of much resort among
that people, as it lay in their paths across the isthmus, and towards
the west.
Drake climbed the tree with Pedro to the little sunny bower at the top.
A fresh breeze which was blowing, had blown away the mists and the heat
haze, so that the whole isthmus lay exposed before him, in the golden
sunlight. There to the north, like a bright blue jewel, was "the
Atlantic Ocean whence now we came." There to the south, some thirty
miles away, was "that sea of which he had heard such golden reports."
He looked at the wonderful South Sea, and "besought Almighty God of His
goodness, to give him life and leave to sail once in an English ship, in
that sea." The prayer was granted to him, for in five years' time he was
off that very coast with such a spoil as no ship ever took before.
Having glutted his eyes with the sight, Drake called up all his English
followers, and "acquainted John Oxenham especially with this his
petition and purpose, if it would please God to grant him that
happiness." Oxenham answered fervently that "unless our Captain did beat
him from his company, he would follow him, by God's grace." He fulfilled
his vow a few months later, with disaster to himself and his associates.
"Thoroughly satisfied with the sight of the seas," the men descended to
their dinner with excellent appetite. They then pushed on lightly as
before, through continual forest, for another two days. On the 13th of
February, when they had gained the west side of the Cheapo River, the
forest broke away into little knots of trees green and goodly, which
showed like islands in a rolling ocean of green grass. They were come to
the famous savannahs, over which roamed herds of black cattle, swift and
savage. Everywhere about them was the wiry stipa grass, and "a kind of
grass with a stalk as big as a great wheaten reed, which hath a blade
issuing from the top of it, on which though the cattle feed, yet it
groweth every day higher, until the top be too high for an ox to reach."
The inhabitants of the country were wont to burn the grass every year,
but "after it is thus burnt" it "springeth up fresh like green corn"
within three days. "Such," says the narrative, "is the great
fruitfulness of the soil: by reason of the evenness of the day and the
night, and the rich dews which fall every morning." As the raiders
advanced along this glorious grass-land they sometimes caught sight of
Panama. Whenever they topped a rise they could see the city, though
very far away; and at last, "on the last day," they saw the ships riding
in the road, with the blue Pacific trembling away into the sky beyond
them. Now was the woodcock near the gin, and now the raiders had to
watch their steps. There was no cover on those rolling sweeps of grass.
They were within a day's journey of the city. The grass-land (as Drake
gathered from his guides) was a favourite hunting-ground of the city
poulterers, for there, as Drake puts it, "the Dames of Panama are wont
to send forth hunters and fowlers, for taking of sundry dainty fowl,
which the land yieldeth." Such a body of men as theirs might readily be
detected by one of these sportsmen, and one such detection would surely
ruin the attempt. They therefore, crept like snakes "out of all ordinary
way," worming themselves through the grass-clumps till they came to a
little river-bed, in which a trickle of water ran slowly across the
sun-bleached pebbles. They were minded to reach a grove or wood about a
league from Panama. The sun beat upon them fiercely, and it was
necessary for them to travel in the heat of the day. In that open
country the midday heat was intense, but they contrived to gain the
shelter of the wood by three that afternoon. "This last day," says the
narrative, "our Captain did behold and view the most of all that fair
city, discerning the large street which lieth directly from the sea into
the land, South and North."
Having gained the shelter of the wood, Drake chose out a Maroon "that
had served a master in Panama" to venture into the city as a spy. He
dressed the man "in such apparel as the Negroes of Panama do use to
wear," and sent him off to the town an hour before night, "so that by
the closing in of the evening he might be in the city." He gave the man
strict charge to find out "the certain night, and the time of the night,
when the carriers laded the Treasure from the King's Treasure House to
Nombre de Dios." The first stage of the journey (from Panama to Venta
Cruz) was always undertaken in the cool of the night, "because the
country is all champion, and consequently by day very hot." From Venta
Cruz to Nombre de Dios "they travel always by day and not by night,
because all that way is full of woods and therefore very cool." Drake's
plan was to waylay one of the treasure trains on the night journey
towards Venta Cruz. The Maroon soon returned to the little wood where
the men were lying. He had entered the town without trouble, and had met
with some old companions, who had told him all he wished to know. A
treasure train was to start that very night, for a great Spanish
gentleman, the treasurer of Lima, "was intending to pass into Spain" in
a swift advice ship which stayed for him at Nombre de Dios. "His
daughter and family" were coming with him, "having fourteen mules in
company, of which eight were laden with gold, and one with jewels."
After this troop, two other recuas, "of fifty mules in each," would take
the road, carrying victuals and wine for the fleet, "with some little
quantity of silver."
As soon as the news had been conveyed to Drake, he marched his men away
from Panama towards Venta Cruz, some four leagues' journey. He halted
them about two leagues to the south of Venta Cruz, in a clump of tall
grass, and then examined a Spanish prisoner whom his scouts had caught.
Two of the Maroons, stealing forward along the line of march, had
scented the acrid smoke of a burning match carried by some arquebusier.
They had crept up "by scent of the said match," and had heard a sound of
snoring coming from the grass by the roadside. A Spanish sentry had
fallen asleep upon his post, "and being but one they fell upon him,
stopped his mouth from crying, put out his match," and bound him so
effectually "that they well near strangled him." He was in the pay of
the King's treasurer, who had hired him, with others, to guard the
treasure train upon its march from Venta Cruz. He had fallen asleep
while waiting for the mules to arrive, as he knew that he would get no
sleep until the company he marched with was safe in Nombre de Dios. He
was in terror of his life, for he believed that he had fallen into the
hands of the Maroons, from whom he might expect no mercy. When he
learned that he was a prisoner to Francis Drake he plucked up courage,
"and was bold to make two requests unto him." First, he asked that Drake
would order the Maroons to spare his life, for he knew that they "hated
the Spaniards, especially the soldiers, extremely," but a word from such
a Captain would be enough to save him. The second request was also
personal. He assured them, upon the faith of a soldier, that "they
should have that night more gold, besides jewels, and pearls of great
price, than all they could carry"; if not, he swore, let them deal with
him as they would. But, he added, if the raiders are successful, "then
it might please our Captain to give unto him, as much as might suffice
for him and his mistress to live upon, as he had heard our Captain had
done to divers others"--promising, in such a case, to make his name as
famous as any of them which had received the like favour.
Being now "at the place appointed" Drake divided his men into two
companies. With eight Englishmen and fifteen Cimmeroons he marched to
some long grass about fifty paces from the road. He sent John Oxenham,
with Pedro and the other company of men, to the other side of the road,
at the same distance from it, but a little farther to the south, in
order that, "as occasion served, the former company might take the
foremost mules by the heads," while Oxenham's party did that service for
those which followed. The arrangement also provided "that if we should
have need to use our weapons that night, we might be sure not to
endamage our fellows." Having reached their stations, the men lay down
to wait, keeping as quiet as they could. In about an hour's time they
heard the clanging of many mule bells, making a loud music, in the
direction of Venta Cruz. Mules were returning from that town to Panama;
for with the fleet at Nombre de Dios there was much business between the
two seaports, and the mule trains were going and coming several times a
day. As they listened, they heard more mule bells ringing far away on
the road from Panama. The treasurer with his company was coming.
Now, Drake had given strict orders that no man should show himself, or
as much as budge from his station, "but let all that came from Venta
Cruz [which was nothing but merchandise] to pass quietly." Yet one of
the men, probably one of Oxenham's men, of the name of Robert Pike, now
disobeyed those orders. "Having drunken too much aqua-vitæ without
water," he forgot himself. He rose from his place in the grass,
"enticing a Cimaroon with him," and crept up close to the road, "with
intent to have shown his forwardness on the foremost mules." Almost
immediately a cavalier came trotting past from Venta Cruz upon a fine
horse, with a little page running at the stirrup. As he trotted by,
Robert Pike "rose up to see what he was." The Cimmeroon promptly pulled
him down, and sat upon him; but his promptness came too late to save the
situation. All the English had put their shirts over their other
apparel, "that we might be sure to know our own men in the pell mell in
the night." The Spanish cavalier had glanced in Robert Pike's direction,
and had seen a figure rising from the grass "half all in white" and very
conspicuous. He had heard of Drake's being on the coast, and at once
came to the conclusion that that arch-pirate had found his way through
the woods to reward himself for his disappointment at Nombre de Dios.
He was evidently a man of great presence of mind. He put spurs to his
horse, and galloped off down the road, partly to escape the danger, but
partly also to warn the treasure train, the bells of which were now
clanging loudly at a little distance from the ambuscade.
Drake heard the trotting horse's hoofs clatter out into a furious
gallop. He suspected that he had been discovered, "but could not imagine
by whose fault, neither did the time give him the leasure to search." It
was a still night, and he had heard no noise, yet something had startled
the cavalier. Earnestly hoping that the rider had been alarmed by the
silence of the night and the well-known danger of the road, he lay down
among the grass again to wait for the mules to come. The bells clanged
nearer and nearer, till at last the mules were trotting past the ambush.
The captains blew their whistles to the attack. The raiders rose from
the grass-clumps with a cheer. There was a rush across the narrow
trackway at the drivers, the mules were seized, and in a moment, two
full recuas were in the raiders' hands.
So far all had gone merrily. The sailors turned to loot the mule packs,
congratulating themselves upon their glorious good fortune. It must have
been a strange scene to witness--the mules scared and savage, the jolly
seamen laughing as they pulled the packs away, the Maroons grinning and
chattering, and the harness and the bells jingling out a music to the
night. As the packs were ripped open a mutter of disappointment began to
sound among the ranks of the spoilers. Pack after pack was found to
consist of merchandise--vicuna wool, or dried provender for the
galleons. The amount of silver found amounted to a bare two horse loads.
Gold there was none. The jewels of the King's treasurer were not to be
discovered. The angry sailors turned upon the muleteers for an
explanation. The chief muleteer, "a very sensible fellow," was taken to
Drake, who soon learned from him the reason why the catch was so poor.
The cavalier who had noticed Robert Pike was the saviour of the
treasure. As soon as the figure half all in white had risen ghost-like
by the road, he had galloped to the treasure mules to report what he had
seen to the treasurer. The thing he had seen was vague, but it was yet
too unusual to pass unnoticed. Drake, he said, was a person of devilish
resource, and it was highly probable, he thought, that the pirates had
come "in covert through the woods" to recoup themselves for their former
disappointments. A white shirt was the usual uniform for men engaged in
night attacks. No Maroon would wear such a thing in that locality, and,
therefore, it would be well to let the food train pass ahead of the
treasure. The loss of the food train would be a little matter, while it
would surely show them whether an ambush lay in wait or not. The
treasurer had accordingly drawn his company aside to allow the food
mules to get ahead of him. As soon as the noise upon the road advised
him that the enemy had made their spring, he withdrew quietly towards
Panama. "Thus," says the narrative, "we were disappointed of a most rich
booty: which is to be though God would not should be taken, for that, by
all likelihood, it was well gotten by that Treasurer."
We are not told what happened to Robert Pike, but it is probable that he
had a bad five minutes when the muleteer's story reached the sailors. It
was bad enough to have marched all day under a broiling sun, and to lose
a royal fortune at the end; but that was not all, nor nearly all: they
were now discovered to the enemy, who lay in considerable force in their
front and rear. They were wearied out with marching, yet they knew very
well that unless they "shifted for themselves betimes" all the
Spaniards of Panama would be upon them. They had a bare two or three
hours' grace in which to secure themselves. They had marched four
leagues that night, and by marching back those same four leagues they
might win to cover by the morning. If they marched forward they might
gain the forest in two leagues; but Venta Cruz lay in the road, and
Venta Cruz was guarded day and night by a company of Spanish troops. To
reach the forest by the latter road they would have to make a way with
their swords, but with men so tired and out of heart it seemed the
likelier route of the two. It was better, Drake thought, "to encounter
his enemies while he had strength remaining, than to be encountered or
chased when they should be worn out with weariness." He bade all hands
to eat and drink from the provisions found upon the mules, and while
they took their supper he told them what he had resolved to do. He
called upon Pedro, the Maroon, by name, asking "whether he would give
his hand not to forsake him." Pedro swore that he would rather die at
his feet than desert him in such a pass--a vow which assured Drake of
the loyalty of his allies. As soon as supper was over, he bade the men
mount upon the mules, so that they might not weary themselves with
marching. An hour's trot brought them to the woods within a mile of
Venta Cruz, where they dismounted, and went afoot, after bidding the
muleteers not to follow if they cared for whole skins. The road was here
some ten or twelve feet broad, "so as two Recuas may pass one by
another." It was paved with cobbles, which had been beaten into the mud
by Indian slaves. On either side of it was the dense tropical forest,
"as thick as our thickest hedges in England that are oftenest cut."
Among the tangle, about half-a-mile from the town, the Spaniards had
taken up a strong position. The town guard of musketeers had been
reinforced by a number of friars from a religious house. They lay
there, hidden in the jungle, blowing their matches to keep them burning
clearly. Two Maroons, whom Drake had sent forward as scouts, crept back
to him with the news that the enemy were there in force, for they had
smelt the reek of the smouldering matches and heard the hushed noise of
many men moving in the scrub. Drake gave orders that no man should fire
till the Spaniards had given them a volley, for he thought they would
first parley with him, "as indeed fell out." Soon afterwards, as the men
neared the Spanish ambush, a Spanish captain rose from the road, and
"cried out, Hoo!" Drake answered with, "Hallo!"--the sailor's reply to a
hail. The Spaniard then put the query "Que gente?" to which Drake
answered "Englishmen." The Spaniard, "in the name of the King of Spain
his master," then charged him to surrender, passing his word as a
gentleman soldier that the whole company should be treated courteously.
Drake made a few quick steps towards the Spaniard, crying out that "for
the honour of the Queen of England, his mistress, he must have passage
that way." As he advanced, he fired his pistol towards him, in order to
draw the Spanish fire. Immediately the thicket burst out into flame; for
the ambush took the shot for a signal, and fired off their whole volley.
Drake received several hail-shot in his body. Many of the men were
wounded, and one man fell sorely hurt. As the volley crackled out its
last few shots, Drake blew his whistle, as a signal to his men to fire.
A volley of shot and arrows was fired into the thicket, and the company
at once advanced, "with intent to come to handy strokes." As they
stormed forward to the thicket, the Spaniards fled towards a position of
greater strength. Drake called upon his men to double forward to prevent
them. The Maroons at once rushed to the front, "with their arrows ready
in their bows, and their manner of country dance or leap, singing Yó
péhó! Yó péhó, and so got before us where they continued their leap and
song after the manner of their own country wars." The Spaniards heard
the war-cry ringing out behind them, and fell back rapidly upon the
town. Near the town's end a party of them rallied, forming a sort of
rearguard to cover the retreat. As they took up a position in the woods,
the Maroons charged them upon both flanks, while the English rushed
their centre. There was a mad moment of fighting in the scrub. A Maroon
went down with a pike through the body; but he contrived to kill the
pikeman before he died. Several Englishmen were hurt. The Spaniards'
loss is not mentioned, but it was probably severe. They broke and fled
before the fury of the attack, and the whole body of fighting men,
"friars and all," were thrust back into the town by the raiders. As they
ran, the raiders pressed them home, shouting and slaying. The gates were
open. The Spanish never had another chance to rally, and the town was
taken with a rush a very few minutes after the captain's challenge in
the wood.
VENTA CRUZ
Venta Cruz, the modern Cruces, stood, and still stands, on the west or
left bank of the Chagres River. It marks the highest point to which
boats may penetrate from the North Sea. Right opposite the town the
river broadens out to a considerable width, affording berths for a
number of vessels of slight draught. At the time of Drake's raid it was
a place of much importance. The land route from Panama to Nombre de Dios
was, as we have said, boggy, dangerous, and pestilential. The freight
charges for mule transport across the isthmus were excessive, ranging
from twenty-five to thirty dollars of assayed silver for a mule load of
200 pounds weight--a charge which works out at nearly £70 a ton. Even in
the dry season the roads were bad, and the mule trains were never safe
from the Maroons. Many merchants, therefore, sent their goods to Venta
Cruz in flat-bottomed boats of about fifteen tons. These would sail from
Nombre de Dios to the mouth of the Chagres River, where they struck
sail, and took to their sweeps. The current was not very violent except
in the upper reaches, and the boats were generally able to gain Venta
Cruz in a few days--in about three days in dry weather and about twelve
in the rains. A towing-path was advocated at one time; but it does not
seem to have been laid, though the river-banks are in many places flat
and sandy, and free from the dense undergrowth of the tropics. As soon
as the boats arrived at Venta Cruz they were dragged alongside the jetty
on the river-bank, and their cargoes were transferred to some strong
stone warehouses. In due course the goods were packed on mules, and
driven away down the road to Panama, a distance of some fifteen or
eighteen miles, which the mules would cover in about eight hours. The
town at the time of Drake's raid contained about forty or fifty houses,
some of them handsome stone structures decorated with carven work. The
river-bank was covered with a great many warehouses, and there were
several official buildings, handsome enough, for the Governor and the
King's officers. There was a monastery full of friars, "where we found
above a thousand bulls and pardons, newly sent from Rome." Perhaps there
was also some sort of a barrack for the troops. The only church was the
great church of the monastery. The town was not fortified, but the
houses made a sort of hedge around it; and there were but two
entrances--the one from the forest, by which Drake's party entered; the
other leading over a pontoon bridge towards the hilly woods beyond the
Chagres. Attached to the monastery, and tended by the monks and their
servants, was a sort of sanatorium and lying-in hospital. Nombre de Dios
was so unhealthy, so full of malaria and yellow fever, "that no Spaniard
or white woman" could ever be delivered there without the loss of the
child on the second or third day. It was the custom of the matrons of
Nombre de Dios to proceed to Venta Cruz or to Panama to give birth to
their children. The babes were left in the place where they were born,
in the care of the friars, until they were five or six years old. They
were then brought to Nombre de Dios, where "if they escaped sickness the
first or second month, they commonly lived in it as healthily as in any
other place." Life in Venta Cruz must have been far from pleasant. The
Maroons were a continual menace, but the town was too well guarded, and
too close to Panama, for them to put the place in serious danger. The
inhabitants had to keep within the township; for the forest lay just
beyond the houses, and lonely wanderers were certain to be stabbed by
lurking Maroons or carried off by jaguars. In the season the mule trains
were continually coming and going, either along the swampy track to
Nombre de Dios or from Nombre de Dios to Panama. Boats came sleepily up
the Chagres to drop their anchors by the jetty, with news from the Old
World and the commodities which the New World did not yield. It must,
then, have been one of the most eventful places in the uncomfortable
isthmus; but no place can be very pleasant which has an annual rainfall
of 120 inches and a mean annual temperature of about 80°. The country
adjacent is indescribably beautiful; the river is clear and brilliant;
the woods are gorgeous with many-coloured blossoms, and with birds and
butterflies that gleam in green and blue among the leaves. During the
rains the river sometimes rises forty feet in a night, and sweeps into
the town with masses of rotting verdure from the hills. There is always
fever in the place, but in the rainy season it is more virulent than in
the dry. At present the town has few white inhabitants. The fair stone
houses which Drake saw are long since gone, having been destroyed in one
of the buccaneering raids a century later. The modern town is a mere
collection of dirty huts, inhabited by negroes, half-breeds, and
Indians.