MORGAN'S GREAT RAID
Chagres castle--Across the isthmus--Sufferings of the
buccaneers--Venta Cruz--Old Panama
Some months later Henry Morgan found his pirates in all the miseries of
poverty. They had wasted all their silver dollars, and longed for
something "to expend anew in wine" before they were sold as slaves to
pay their creditors. He thought that he would save them from their
misery by going a new cruise. There was no need for him to drum up
recruits in the rum shops, for his name was glorious throughout the
Indies. He had but to mention that "he intended for the Main" to get
more men than he could ship. He "assigned the south side of the Isle of
Tortuga" for his rendezvous, and he sent out letters to the "ancient and
expert Pirates" and to the planters and hunters in Hispaniola, asking
them, in the American general's phrase, "to come and dip their spoons in
a platter of glory." Long before the appointed day the rendezvous was
crowded, for ships, canoas, and small boats came thronging to the
anchorage with all the ruffians of the Indies. Many marched to the
rendezvous across the breadth of Hispaniola "with no small
difficulties." The muster brought together a grand variety of rascaldom,
from Campeachy in the west to Trinidad in the east. Hunters, planters,
logwood cutters, Indians, and half-breeds came flocking from their huts
and inns to go upon the grand account. Lastly, Henry Morgan came in his
fine Spanish ship, with the brass and iron guns. At the firing of a gun
the assembled captains came on board to him for a pirates' council, over
the punch-bowl, in the admiral's cabin.
It was decided at this council to send a large party to the Main, to the
de la Hacha River, "to assault a small village" of the name of La
Rancheria--the chief granary in all the "Terra Firma." The pirates were
to seize as much maize there as they could find--enough, if possible, to
load the ships of the expedition. While they were away their fellows at
Tortuga were to clean and rig the assembled ships to fit them for the
coming cruise. Another large party was detailed to hunt in the woods for
hogs and cattle.
In about five weeks' time the ships returned from Rio de la Hacha, after
much buffeting at sea. They brought with them a grain ship they had
taken in the port, and several thousand sacks of corn which the
Spaniards had paid them as "a ransom for not burning the town." They had
also won a lot of silver, "with all other things they could rob"--such
as pearls from the local pearl beds. The hunters had killed and salted
an incredible quantity of beef and pork, the ships were scraped and
tallowed, and nothing more was to be done save to divide the victuals
among all the buccaneers. This division did not take much time. Within a
couple of days the admiral loosed his top-sail. The pirates fired off
their guns and hove their anchors up. They sailed out of Port Couillon
with a fair wind, in a great bravery of flags, towards the rendezvous at
Cape Tiburon, to the south-west of the island Hispaniola. When they
reached Cape Tiburon, where there is a good anchorage, they brought
aboard a store of oranges, to save them from the scurvy. While the men
were busy in the orange groves Henry Morgan "gave letters patent, or
commissions," to all his captains, "to act all manner of hostility
against the Spanish nation." For this act he had the sealed authority
of the Council of Jamaica. He was no longer a pirate or buccaneer, but
an admiral leading a national enterprise. As we have said, he had heard,
on the Main, of an intended Spanish attack upon Jamaica; indeed, it is
probable that his capture of Porto Bello prevented the ripening of the
project. There is no need to whitewash Morgan, but we may at least
regard him at this juncture as the saviour of our West Indian colonies.
After the serving out of these commissions, and their due sealing, the
captains were required to sign the customary articles, allotting the
shares of the prospective plunder. The articles allotted very liberal
compensation to the wounded; they also expressly stated the reward to be
given for bravery in battle. Fifty pieces of eight were allotted to him
who should haul a Spanish colour down and hoist the English flag in its
place. Surgeons received 200 pieces of eight "for their chests of
medicaments." Carpenters received one half of that sum. Henry Morgan,
the admiral of the fleet, was to receive one-hundredth part of all the
plunder taken. His vice-admiral's share is not stated. As a stimulus to
the pirates, it was published through the fleet that any captain and
crew who ventured on, and took, a Spanish ship should receive a tenth
part of her value as a reward to themselves for their bravery. When the
contracts had been signed Morgan asked his captains which town they
should attempt. They had thirty-seven ships, carrying at least 500
cannon. They had 2000 musketeers, "besides mariners and boys," while
they possessed "great quantity of ammunition, and fire balls, with other
inventions of powder." With such an armament, he said, they could attack
the proudest of the Spanish cities. They could sack La Vera Cruz, where
the gold from Manila was put aboard the galleons, as they lay alongside
the quays moored to the iron ring-bolts; or they could go eastward to
the town of Cartagena to pillage our Lady's golden altar in the church
there; or they could row up the Chagres River, and keep the promise
Morgan had made to the Governor of Panama. The captains pronounced for
Panama, but they added, as a rider, that it would be well to go to Santa
Katalina to obtain guides. The Santa Katalina fort was still in the
possession of the Spaniards, who now used it as a convict settlement,
sending thither all the outlaws of the "Terra Firma." It would be well,
they said, to visit Santa Katalina to select a few choice cut-throats to
guide them over the isthmus. With this resolution they set sail for
Santa Katalina, where they anchored on the fourth day, "before sunrise,"
in a bay called the Aguada Grande.
Some of the buccaneers had been there under Mansvelt, and these now
acted as guides to the men who went ashore in the fighting party. A day
of hard fighting followed, rather to the advantage of the Spaniards, for
the pirates won none of the batteries, and had to sleep in the open,
very wet and hungry. The next day Morgan threatened the garrison with
death if they did not yield "within few hours." The Governor was not a
very gallant man, like the Governor at Porto Bello. Perhaps he was
afraid of his soldiers, the convicts from the "Terra Firma." At anyrate
he consented to surrender, but he asked that the pirates would have the
kindness to pretend to attack him, "for the saving of his honesty."
Morgan agreed very gladly to this proposition, for he saw little chance
of taking the fort by storm. When the night fell, he followed the
Governor's direction, and began a furious bombardment, "but without
bullets, or at least into the air." The castles answered in the like
manner, burning a large quantity of powder. Then the pirates stormed
into the castles in a dramatic way; while the Spaniards retreated to
the church, and hung out the white flag.
Early the next morning the pirates sacked the place, and made great
havoc in the poultry-yards and cattle-pens. They pulled down a number of
wooden houses to supply their camp fires. The guns they nailed or sent
aboard. The powder they saved for their own use, but some proportion of
it went to the destruction of the forts, which, with one exception, they
blew up. For some days they stayed there, doing nothing but "roast and
eat, and make good cheer," sending the Spaniards to the fields to rout
out fresh provisions. While they lay there, Morgan asked "if any
banditti were there from Panama," as he had not yet found his guides.
Three scoundrels came before him, saying that they knew the road across
the isthmus, and that they would act as guides if such action were made
profitable. Morgan promised them "equal shares in all they should
pillage and rob," and told them that they should come with him to
Jamaica at the end of the cruise. These terms suited the three robbers
very well. One of them, "a wicked fellow," "the greatest rogue, thief
and assassin among them," who had deserved rather "to be broken alive
upon a wheel than punished with serving in a garrison," was the
spokesman of the trio. He was the Dubosc of that society, "and could
domineer and command over them," "they not daring to refuse obedience."
This truculent ruffian, with his oaths and his knives and his black
moustachios, was elected head guide.
After several days of ease upon the island Morgan sent a squadron to the
Main, with 400 men, four ships, and a canoa, "to go and take the Castle
of Chagre," at the entrance to the Chagres River. He would not send a
larger company, though the fort was strong, for he feared "lest the
Spaniards should be jealous of his designs upon Panama"--lest they
should be warned, that is, by refugees from Chagres before he tried to
cross the isthmus. Neither would he go himself, for he was still bent
upon establishing a settlement at Santa Katalina. He chose out an old
buccaneer, of the name of Brodely or Bradly, who had sailed with
Mansvelt, to command the expedition. He was famous in his way this
Captain Brodely, for he had been in all the raids, and had smelt a
quantity of powder. He was as brave as a lion, resourceful as a sailor,
and, for a buccaneer, most prudent. Ordering his men aboard, he sailed
for the Chagres River, where, three days later, he arrived. He stood in
towards the river's mouth; but the guns of the castle opened on him,
making that anchorage impossible. But about a league from the castle
there is a small bay, and here Captain Brodely brought his ships to
anchor, and sent his men to their blankets, warning them to stand by for
an early call.
[Illustration: CHAGRES
CIRCA 1739]
The castle of San Lorenzo, which guarded the Chagres River's mouth, was
built on the right bank of that river, on a high hill of great
steepness. The hill has two peaks, with a sort of natural ditch some
thirty feet in depth between them. The castle was built upon the seaward
peak, and a narrow drawbridge crossed the gully to the other summit,
which was barren and open to the sight. The river swept round the
northern side of the hill with considerable force. To the south the hill
was precipitous, and of such "infinite asperity," that no man could
climb it. To the east was the bridged gully connecting the garrison with
the isthmus. To the west, in a crook of the land, was the little port of
Chagres, where ships might anchor in seven or eight fathoms, "being very
fit for small vessels." Not far from the foot of the hill, facing the
river's mouth, there was a battery of eight great guns commanding the
approach. A little way beneath were two more batteries, each with six
great guns, to supplement the one above. A path led from these lower
batteries to the protected harbour. A steep flight of stairs, "hewed out
of the rock," allowed the soldiers to pass from the water to the summit
of the castle. The defences at the top of the hill were reinforced with
palisadoes. The keep, or inner castle, was hedged about with a double
fence of plank--the fences being six or seven feet apart, and the
interstices filled in with earth, like gabions. On one side of the
castle were the storesheds for merchandise and ammunition. On the other,
and within the palisadoes everywhere, were soldiers' huts, built of mud
and wattle, thatched with palm leaves, "after the manner of the
Indians." Lastly, as a sort of outer defence, a great submerged rock
prevented boats from coming too near the seaward side.
Early in the morning Captain Bradly turned his hands up by the
boatswain's pipe, and bade them breakfast off their beef and parched
corn. Maize and charqui were packed into knapsacks for the march, and
the pirates rowed ashore to open the campaign. The ruffians from Santa
Katalina took their stations at the head of the leading company, with
trusty pirates just behind them ready to pistol them if they played
false. In good spirits they set forth from the beach, marching in the
cool of the morning before the sun had risen. The way led through
mangrove swamps, where the men sank to their knees in rotting grasses or
plunged to their waists in slime. Those who have seen a tropical swamp
will know how fierce the toil was. They were marching in a dank world
belonging to an earlier age than ours. They were in the age of the coal
strata, among wet, green things, in a silence only broken by the sound
of dropping or by the bellow of an alligator. They were there in the
filth, in the heat haze, in a mist of miasma and mosquitoes. In all
probability they were swearing at themselves for coming thither.
At two o'clock in the afternoon the buccaneers pushed through a thicket
of liane and green cane, and debouched quite suddenly upon the barren
hilltop facing San Lorenzo Castle. As they formed up, they were met with
a thundering volley, which threw them into some confusion. They
retreated to the cover of the jungle to debate a plan of battle, greatly
fearing that a fort so strongly placed would be impregnable without
great guns to batter it. However, they were a reckless company, careless
of their lives, and hot with the tramping through the swamp. Give it up
they could not, for fear of the mockery of their mates. The desperate
course was the one course open to them. They lit the fireballs, or
grenades, they had carried through the marsh; they drew their swords,
and "Come on!" they cried. "Have at all!" And forward they stormed,
cursing as they ran. A company in reserve remained behind in cover,
firing over the storming party with their muskets.
As the pirates threw themselves into the gully, the walls of San Lorenzo
burst into a flame of gun fire. The Spaniards fought their cannon
furiously--as fast as they could fire and reload--while the musketeers
picked off the leaders from the loopholes. "Come on, ye English dogs!"
they cried. "Come on, ye heretics! ye cuckolds! Let your skulking mates
behind there come on too! You'll not get to Panama this bout." "Come on"
the pirates did, with great gallantry. They flung themselves down into
the ditch, and stormed up the opposite slope to the wooden palings. Here
they made a desperate attempt to scale, but the foothold was too
precarious and the pales too high. In a few roaring minutes the attack
was at an end: it had withered away before the Spanish fire. The
buccaneers were retreating in knots of one or two, leaving some seventy
of their number on the sun-bleached rocks of the gully.
When they got back to the jungle they lay down to rest, and slept there
quietly while the daylight lasted, though the Spaniards still sent shots
in their direction. As soon as it was dark, they made another furious
assault, flinging their fireballs against the palings in order to burst
the planks apart. While they were struggling in the ditch, a pirate ran
across the gully with his body bent, as is natural to a running man. As
he ran, an arrow took him in the back, and pierced him through to the
side. He paused a moment, drew the arrow from the wound, wrapped the
shaft of it with cotton as a wad, and fired it back over the paling with
his musket. The cotton he had used caught fire from the powder, and it
chanced that this blazing shaft drove home into a palm thatch. In the
hurry and confusion the flame was not noticed, though it spread rapidly
across the huts till it reached some powder casks. There was a violent
explosion just within the palisadoes, and stones and blazing sticks came
rattling down about the Spaniards' ears. The inner castle roared up in a
blaze, calling the Spaniards from their guns to quench the fire--no easy
task so high above the water. While the guns were deserted, the pirates
ran along the bottom of the ditch, thrusting their fireballs under the
palisadoes, which now began to burn in many places. As the flames
spread, the planking warped, and fell. The outer planks inclined
slightly outward, like the futtocks of a ship, so that, when they
weakened in the fire, the inner weight of earth broke them through. The
pirates now stood back from the fort, in the long black shadows, to
avoid the showers of earth--"great heaps of earth"--which were falling
down into the ditch. Presently the slope from the bottom of the gully
was piled with earth, so that the pirates could rush up to the breaches,
and hurl their firepots across the broken woodwork. The San Lorenzo fort
was now a spiring red flame of fire--a beacon to the ships at sea.
Before midnight the wooden walls were burnt away to charcoal; the inner
fort was on fire in many places; yet the Spaniards still held the
earthen ramparts, casting down "many flaming pots," and calling on the
English dogs to attack them. The pirates lay close in the shadows,
picking off the Spaniards as they moved in the red firelight, so that
many poor fellows came toppling into the gully from the mounds.
When day dawned, the castle lay open to the pirates. The walls were all
burnt, and fallen down, but in the breaches stood the Spanish soldiers,
manning their guns as though the walls still protected them. The fight
began as furiously as it had raged the day before. By noon most of the
Spanish gunners had been shot down by the picked musketeers; while a
storming party ran across the ditch, and rushed a breach. As the pirates
gained the inside of the fort, the Spanish Governor charged home upon
them with twenty-five soldiers armed with pikes, clubbed muskets,
swords, or stones from the ruin. For some minutes these men mixed in a
last desperate struggle; then the Spaniards were driven back by the
increasing numbers of the enemy. Fighting hard, they retreated to the
inner castle, cheered by their Governor, who still called on them to
keep their flag aloft. The inner castle was a ruin, but the yellow flag
still flew there, guarded by some sorely wounded soldiers and a couple
of guns. Here the last stand was made, and here the gallant captain was
hit by a bullet, "which pierced his skull into the brain." The little
band of brave men now went to pieces before the rush of pirates. Some of
them fell back, still fighting, to the wall, over which they flung
themselves "into the sea," dying thus honourably rather than surrender.
About thirty of them, "whereof scarce ten were not wounded," surrendered
in the ruins of the inner fortress. These thirty hurt and weary men
were the survivors of 314 who had stood to arms the day before. All the
rest were dead, save "eight or nine," who had crept away by boat up the
Chagres to take the news to Panama. No officer remained alive, nor was
any powder left; the Spaniards were true soldiers. The pirates lost
"above one hundred killed" and over seventy wounded, or rather more than
half of the men engaged. While the few remaining Spaniards dug trenches
in the sand for the burial of the many dead, the pirates questioned them
as to their knowledge of Morgan's enterprise. They knew all about it,
they said, for a deserter from the pirate ships which raided the Rio de
la Hacha (for grain) had spoken of the scheme to the Governor at
Cartagena. That captain had reinforced the Chagres garrison, and had
sent a warning over the isthmus to the Governor at Panama. The Chagres
was now well lined with ambuscades. Panama was full of soldiers, and the
whole Spanish population was ready to take up arms to drive the pirates
to their ships, so they knew what they might look to get in case they
persisted in their plan. This information was sent to Henry Morgan at
the Santa Katalina fort, with news of the reduction of the Chagres
castle. Before he received it, Captain Joseph Bradly died in the castle,
of a wound he had received in the fighting.
When Morgan received the news that San Lorenzo had been stormed, he
began to send aboard the meat, maize, and cassava he had collected in
Santa Katalina. He had already blown the Spanish forts to pieces, with
the one exception of the fort of St Teresa. He now took all the captured
Spanish guns, and flung them into the sea, where they lie still, among
the scarlet coral sprays. The Spanish town was then burnt, and the
Spanish prisoners placed aboard the ships. It was Morgan's intention to
return to the island after sacking Panama, and to leave there a strong
garrison to hold it in the interests of the buccaneers. When he had made
these preparations he weighed his anchors, and sailed for the Chagres
River under the English colours.
Eight days later they came sailing slowly up towards the river's mouth.
Their joy was so great "when they saw the English colours upon the
castle, that they minded not their way into the river," being gathered
at the rum cask instead of at the lead, and calling healths instead of
soundings. As a consequence, four ships of the fleet, including the
admiral's flagship, ran foul of the ledge of rocks at the river's entry.
Several men were drowned, but the goods and ships' stores were saved,
though with some difficulty. As they got out warps to bring the ships
off, the north wind freshened. In shallow water, such as that, a sea
rises very quickly. In a few hours a regular "norther" had set in, and
the ships beat to pieces on the ledge before the end of the day.
As Morgan came ashore at the port, the guns were fired in salute, and
the pirates lined the quay and the castle walls to give him a triumphant
welcome. He examined the castle, questioned the lieutenants, and at once
took steps to repair the damage done by the fire. The thirty survivors
of the garrison and all the prisoners from Santa Katalina, were set to
work to drive in new palisadoes in the place of those burnt in the
attack. The huts were rethatched and the whole place reordered. There
were some Spanish ships in the port whose crews had been pressed into
the Spanish garrison at the time of the storm. They were comparatively
small, of the kind known as chatas, or chatten, a sort of coast boat of
slight draught, used for river work and for the conveyance of goods from
the Chagres to the cities on the Main. They had iron and brass guns
aboard them, which were hoisted out, and mounted in the fort. Captain
Morgan then picked a garrison of 500 buccaneers to hold the fort, under
a buccaneer named Norman. He placed 150 more in the ships in the
anchorage, and embarked the remainder in flat-bottomed boats for the
voyage up the Chagres.
It was the dry season, so that the river, at times so turbulent, was
dwindled to a tenth of its volume. In order that the hard work of
hauling boats over shallows might not be made still harder, Morgan gave
orders that the men should take but scanty stock of provisions. A few
maize cobs and a strip or two of charqui was all the travelling store in
the scrips his pilgrims carried. They hoped that they would find fresh
food in the Spanish strongholds, or ambuscades, which guarded the
passage over the isthmus.
[Illustration: THE ISTHMUS
SHOWING MORGAN'S LINE OF ADVANCE]
The company set sail from San Lorenzo on the morning of the 12th (one
says the 18th) of January 1671. They numbered in all 1200 men, packed
into thirty-two canoas and the five chatas they had taken in the port.
His guides went on ahead in one of the chatas, with her guns aboard her
and the matches lit, and one Robert Delander, a buccaneer captain, in
command. The first day's sailing against a gentle current was pleasant
enough. In spite of the heat and the overcrowding of the boats, they
made six leagues between dawn and sunset, and anchored at a place called
De los Bracos. Here a number of the pirates went ashore to sleep "and
stretch their limbs, they being almost crippled with lying too much
crowded in the boats." They also foraged up and down for food in the
plantations; but the Spaniards had fled with all their stores. It was
the first day of the journey over the isthmus, yet many of the men had
already come to an end of their provisions. "The greatest part of them"
ate nothing all day, nor enjoyed "any other refreshment" than a pipe of
tobacco. The next day, "very early in the morning," before the sun
rose, they shoved off from the mooring-place. They rowed all day,
suffering much from the mosquitoes, but made little progress. The river
was fallen very low, so that they were rowing or poling over a series of
pools joined by shallow rapids. To each side of them were stretches of
black, alluvial mud, already springing green with shrubs and
water-plants. Every now and then, as they rowed on, on the dim,
sluggish, silent, steaming river, they butted a sleeping alligator as he
sunned in the shallows, or were stopped by a fallen tree, brought by the
summer floods and left to rot there. At twilight, when the crying of the
birds became more intense and the monkeys gathered to their screaming in
the treetops, the boats drew up to the bank at a planter's station, or
wayside shrine, known as Cruz de Juan Gallego. Here they went ashore to
sleep, still gnawed with famine, and faint with the hard day's rowing.
The guides told Henry Morgan that after another two leagues they might
leave the boats, and push through the woods on foot.
Early the next morning the admiral decided to leave the boats, for with
his men so faint from hunger he thought it dangerous to tax them with a
labour so severe as rowing. He left 160 men to protect the fleet, giving
them the strictest orders to remain aboard. "No man," he commanded,
"upon any pretext whatsoever, should dare to leave the boats and go
ashore." The woods there were so dark and thick that a Spanish garrison
might have lain within 100 yards of the fleet, and cut off any
stragglers who landed. Having given his orders, he chose out a gang of
macheteros, or men carrying the sharp sword-like machetes, to march
ahead of the main body, to cut a trackway in the pulpy green stuff. They
then set forward through the forest, over their ankles in swampy mud, up
to their knees sometimes in rotting leaves, clambering over giant tree
trunks, wading through stagnant brooks, staggering and slipping and
swearing, faint with famine; a very desperate gang of cut-throats. As
they marched, the things called garapatadas, or wood-ticks, of which
some six sorts flourish there, dropped down upon them in scores, to add
their burning bites to the venom of the mosquitoes. In a moist
atmosphere of at least 90°, with heavy arms to carry, that march must
have been terrible. Even the buccaneers, men hardened to the climate,
could not endure it: they straggled back to the boats, and re-embarked.
With a great deal of trouble the pirates dragged the boats "to a place
farther up the river, called Cedro Bueno," where they halted for the
stragglers, who drifted in during the evening. Here they went ashore to
a wretched bivouac, to lie about the camp fires, with their belts drawn
tight, chewing grass or aromatic leaves to allay their hunger. After
Cedro Bueno the river narrowed, so that there was rather more water to
float the canoas. The land, too, was less densely wooded, and easier for
the men to march upon. On the fourth day "the greatest part of the
Pirates marched by land, being led by one of the guides." Another guide
led the rest of them in the canoas; two boats going ahead of the main
fleet, one on each side of the river, to discover "the ambuscades of the
Spaniards." The Spaniards had lined the river-banks at intervals with
Indian spies, who were so "very dexterous" that they brought
intelligence of the coming of the pirates "six hours at least before
they came to any place." About noon on this day, as the boats neared
Torna Cavallos, one of the guides cried out that he saw an ambuscade.
"His voice caused infinite joy to all the Pirates," who made sure that
the fastness would be well provisioned, and that at last they might
"afford something to the ferment of their stomachs, which now was grown
so sharp that it did gnaw their very bowels." The place was carried with
a rush; but the redoubt was empty. The Spaniards had all fled away some
hours before, when their spies had come in from down the river. There
had been 500 Spaniards there standing to arms behind the barricade of
tree trunks. They had marched away with all their gear, save only a few
leather bags, "all empty," and a few crusts and bread crumbs "upon the
ground where they had eaten." There were a few shelter huts, thatched
with palm leaves, within the barricade. These the pirates tore to pieces
in the fury of their disappointment. They fell upon the leather bags
like hungry dogs quarrelling for a bone. They fought and wrangled for
the scraps of leather, and ate them greedily, "with frequent gulps of
water." Had they taken any Spaniards there "they would certainly in that
occasion [or want] have roasted or boiled" them "to satisfy their
famine."
Somewhat relieved by the scraps of leather, they marched on along the
river-bank to "another post called Torna Munni." Here they found a
second wall of tree trunks, loopholed for musketry, "but as barren and
desert as the former." They sought about in the woods for fruits or
roots, but could find nothing--"the Spaniards having been so provident
as not to leave behind them anywhere the least crumb of sustenance."
There was nothing for them but "those pieces of leather, so hard and
dry," a few of which had been saved "for supper" by the more provident.
He who had a little scrap of hide, would slice it into strips, "and beat
it between two stones, and rub it, often dipping it in the water of the
river, to render it by these means supple and tender." Lastly, the hair
was scraped off, and the piece "roasted or broiled" at the camp fire
upon a spit of lance wood. "And being thus cooked they cut it into small
morsels, and eat it," chewing each bit for several minutes as though
loth to lose it, and helping it down "with frequent gulps of water."
There was plenty of fish in the Chagres, but perhaps they had no lines.
It seems strange, however, that they made no attempt to kill some of the
myriads of birds and monkeys in the trees, or the edible snakes which
swarm in the grass, or, as a last resource, the alligators in the river.
Gaunt with hunger, they took the trail again after a night of misery at
Torna Munni. The going was slightly better, but there was still the
wood-ticks, the intense, damp heat, and the lust for food to fight
against. About noon they staggered in to Barbacoas, now a station on the
Isthmian Railway. There were a few huts at Barbacoas, for the place was
of some small importance. A native swinging bridge, made of bejuco cane,
was slung across the river there for the benefit of travellers going to
Porto Bello. An ambush had been laid at Barbacoas, but the Spaniards had
left the place, after sweeping it as bare as Torna Munni. The land was
in tillage near the huts, but the plantations were barren. "They
searched very narrowly, but could not find any person, animal or other
thing that was capable of relieving their extreme and ravenous hunger."
After a long search they chanced upon a sort of cupboard in the rocks,
"in which they found two sacks of meal, wheat, and like things, with two
great jars of wine, and certain fruits called Platanos," or large
bananas. Morgan very firmly refused to allow the buccaneers to use this
food. He reserved it strictly for those who were in greatest want,
thereby saving a number of lives. The dying men were given a little meal
and wine, and placed in the canoas, "and those commanded to land that
were in them before." They then marched on "with greater courage than
ever," till late into the night, when they lay down in a plundered bean
patch.
"On the sixth day" they were nearly at the end of their tether. They
dragged along slowly, some in boats, some in the woods, halting every
now and then in despair of going farther, and then staggering on again,
careless if they lived or died. Their lips were scummy with a sort of
green froth, caused by their eating grass and the leaves of trees. In
this condition they came at noon to a plantation, "where they found a
barn full of maize." They beat the door in in a few minutes, "and fell
to eating of it dry," till they were gorged with it. There was enough
for all, and plenty left to take away, so they distributed a great
quantity, "giving to every man a good allowance." With their knapsacks
full of corn cobs they marched on again, in happier case than they had
been in for several days. They soon came to "an ambuscade of Indians,"
but no Indians stayed within it to impeach their passage. On catching
sight of the barricade many buccaneers flung away their corn cobs, with
the merry improvidence of their kind, "with the sudden hopes they
conceived of finding all things in abundance." But the larder was as
bare as it had been in the other strongholds: it contained "neither
Indians, nor victuals, nor anything else." On the other side of the
river, however, there were many Indians, "a troop of a hundred," armed
with bows, "who escaped away through the agility of their feet." Some of
the pirates "leapt into the river" to attack these Indians, and to bring
them into camp as prisoners. They did not speed in their attempt, but
two or three of them were shot through the heart as they waded. Their
corpses drifted downstream, to catch in the oars of the canoas, a
horrible feast for the caymans. The others returned to their comrades on
the right or northern bank of the river among the howls of the Indians:
"Hey, you dogs, you, go on to the savannah; go on to the savannah, to
find out what's in pickle for you."
They could go no farther towards the savannah for that time, as they
wished to cross the river, and did not care to do so, in the presence of
an enemy, without due rest. They camped about big fires of wood,
according to their custom, but they slept badly, for the hunger and toil
had made them mutinous. The growling went up and down the camp till it
came to Morgan's ears. Most of the pirates were disgusted with their
admiral's "conduct," or leadership, and urged a speedy return to Port
Royal. Others, no less disgusted, swore savagely that they would see the
job through. Some, who had eaten more burnt leather than the others,
"did laugh and joke at all their discourses," and so laid a last straw
upon their burden. "In the meanwhile" the ruffian guide, "the rogue,
thief, and assassin," who had merited to die upon a wheel, was a great
comfort to them. "It would not be long," he kept saying, "before they
met with folk, when they would come to their own, and forget these
hungry times." So the night passed, round the red wood logs in the
clearing, among the steaming jungle.
Early in the morning of the seventh day they cleaned their arms, wiping
away the rust and fungus which had grown upon them. "Every one
discharged his pistol or musket, without bullet, to examine the security
of their firelocks." They then loaded with ball, and crossed the river
in the canoas. At midday they sighted Venta Cruz, the village, or little
town, which Drake had taken. The smoke was going up to heaven from the
Venta Cruz chimneys--a sight very cheering to these pirates. They had
"great joy and hopes of finding people in the town ... and plenty of
good cheer." They went on merrily, "making several arguments to one
another [like the gravediggers in _Hamlet_] upon those external
signs"--saying that there could be no smoke without a fire, and no fire
in such a climate save to cook by, and that, therefore, Venta Cruz
would be full of roast and boiled by the time they marched into its
Plaza. Thus did they cheer the march and the heavy labour at the oars as
far as the Venta Cruz jetty.
As they entered Venta Cruz at the double, "all sweating and panting"
with the hurry of their advance, they found the town deserted and in a
blaze of fire. There was nothing eatable there, for the place had been
swept clean, and then fired, by the retreating Spaniards. The only
houses not alight were "the store-houses and stables belonging the
King." These, being of stone, and Government property, had not been
kindled. The storehouses and stables were, however, empty. Not a horse
nor a mule nor an ass was in its stall. "They had not left behind them
any beast whatsoever, either alive or dead." Venta Cruz was as
profitless a booty as all the other stations. A few pariah dogs and cats
were in the street, as was perhaps natural, even at that date, in a
Central-American town. These were at once killed, and eaten half raw,
"with great appetite." Before they were despatched, a pirate lighted on
a treasure in a recess of the King's stables. He found there a stock of
wine, some fifteen or sixteen jars, or demijohns, of good Peruvian wine,
"and a leather sack full of bread." "But no sooner had they begun to
drink of the said wine when they fell sick, almost every man." Several
hundreds had had a cup or two of the drink, and these now judged
themselves poisoned, and "irrecoverably lost." They were not poisoned,
as it happened, but they had gone hungry for several days, living on
"manifold sorts of trash." The sudden use of wine and bread caused a
very natural sickness, such as comes to all who eat or drink greedily
after a bout of starving. The sickness upset them for the day, so that
the force remained there, at bivouac in the village, until the next
morning. During the halt Morgan landed all his men ("though never so
weak") from the canoas. He retained only one boat, which he hid, for
use as an advice boat, "to carry intelligence" to those down the river.
The rest of the canoas were sent downstream to the anchorage at Bueno
Cedro, where the chatas lay moored under a guard. He gave strict orders
to the rest of the pirates that they were not to leave the village save
in companies of 100 together. "One party of English soldiers stickled
not to contravene these commands, being tempted with the desire of
finding victuals." While they straggled in the tilled ground outside
Venta Cruz they were attacked "with great fury" by a number of Spaniards
and Indians, "who snatched up" one of them, and carried him off. What
was done to this one so snatched up we are not told. Probably he was
tortured to give information of the pirates' strength, and then hanged
up to a tree.
On the eighth day, in the early morning, the sick men being recovered,
Morgan thought they might proceed. He chose out an advance-guard of 200
of the strongest of his men, and sent them forward, with their matches
lighted, to clear the road. The road was a very narrow one, but paved
with cobble stones, and easy to the feet after the quagmires of the
previous week. The men went forward at a good pace, beating the thickets
on each side of the road. When they had marched some seven or eight
miles they were shot at from some Indian ambush. A shower of arrows fell
among them, but they could not see a trace of the enemy, till the
Indians, who had shot the arrows, broke from cover and ran to a second
fastness. A few stood firm, about a chief or cacique, "with full design
to fight and defend themselves." They fought very gallantly for a few
moments; but the pirates stormed their poor defence, and pistolled the
cacique, losing eight men killed and ten wounded before the Indians
broke. Shortly after this skirmish, the advance-guard left the wood,
coming to open, green grass-land "full of variegated meadows." On a hill
at a little distance they saw a number of Indians gathered, watching
their advance. They sent out a troop to capture some of these, but the
Indians escaped again, "through the agility of their feet," to reappear
a little later with their howls of scorn: "Hey, you dogs, you English
dogs, you. Get on to the savannah, you dogs, you cuckolds. On to the
savannah, and see what's coming to you." "While these things passed the
ten pirates that were wounded were dressed and plastered up."
In a little while the pirates seized a hilltop facing a ridge of hill
which shut them from the sight of Panama. In the valley between the two
hills was a thick little wood, where Morgan looked to find an ambush. He
sent his advance-guard of 200 men to search the thicket. As they
entered, some Spaniards and Indians entered from the opposite side, but
no powder was burnt, for the Spaniards stole away by a bypath, "and were
seen no more." That night a drenching shower of rain fell, blotting out
the landscape in a roaring grey film. It sent the pirates running hither
and thither to find some shelter "to preserve their arms from being
wet." Nearly all the huts and houses in the district had been fired by
the Indians, but the pirates found a few lonely shepherds' shealings,
big enough to hold all the weapons of the army and a few of the men.
Those who could not find a place among the muskets were constrained to
lie shivering in the open, enduring much hardship, for the rain did not
slacken till dawn.
At daybreak Morgan ordered them to march "while the fresh air of the
morning lasted"; for they were now in open country, on the green
savannah, where they would have no treetops to screen them from the
terrible sun. During their morning march they saw a troop of Spanish
horse, armed with spears, watching the advance at a safe distance, and
retiring as the pirates drew nearer. Shortly after this they topped a
steep rise, and lo! the smoke of Panama, and the blue Pacific, with her
sky-line trembling gently, and a ship under sail, with five boats, going
towards some emerald specks of islands. The clouds were being blown
across the sky. The sun was glorious over all that glorious picture,
over all the pasture, so green and fresh from the rain. There were the
snowy Andes in the distance, their peaks sharply notched on the clear
sky. Directly below them, in all her beauty, was the royal city of
Panama, only hidden from sight by a roll of green savannah.
Just at the foot of the rise, in a wealth of fat pasture, were numbers
of grazing cattle, horses, and asses--the droves of the citizens. The
pirates crept down, and shot a number of these, "chiefly asses," which
they promptly flayed, while some of their number gathered firewood. As
soon as the fires were lit the meat was blackened in the flame, and then
greedily swallowed in "convenient pieces or gobbets." "They more
resembled cannibals than Europeans at this banquet," for the blood ran
down the beards of many, so hungry were they for meat after the long
agony of the march. What they could not eat they packed in their
satchels. After a long midday rest they fell in again for the march,
sending fifty men ahead to take prisoners "if possibly they could," for
in all the nine days' tramp they had taken no one to give them
information of the Spaniards' strength. Towards sunset they saw a troop
of Spaniards spying on them, who hallooed at them, but at such a
distance that they could not distinguish what was said. As the sun set
"they came the first time within sight of the highest steeple of
Panama."
This was a stirring cordial to the way-weary men limping down the
savannah. The sight of the sea was not more cheering to the Greeks than
the sight of the great gilt weathercock, shifting on the spire, to these
haggard ruffians with the blood not yet dry upon their beards. They
flung their hats into the air, and danced and shouted. All their
trumpets shouted a levity, their drums beat, and their colours were
displayed. They camped there, with songs and laughter, in sight of that
steeple, "waiting with impatience," like the French knights in the play,
for the slowly coming dawn. Their drums and trumpets made a merry music
to their singing, and they caroused so noisily that a troop of horsemen
rode out from Panama to see what was the matter. "They came almost
within musket-shot of the army, being preceded by a trumpet that sounded
marvellously well." They rode up "almost within musket-shot," but made
no attempt to draw the pirates' fire. They "hallooed aloud to the
Pirates, and threatened them," with "Hey, ye dogs, we shall meet ye," in
the manner of the Indians. Seven or eight of them stayed "hovering
thereabouts," riding along the camp until the day broke, to watch the
pirates' movements. As soon as their main body reached the town, and
reported what they had seen, the Governor ordered the city guns to open
on the pirates' camp. The biggest guns at once began a heavy fire, from
which one or two spent balls rolled slowly to the outposts without doing
any damage. At the same time, a strong party took up a position to the
rear of the camp, as though to cut off the retreat.
Morgan placed his sentries, and sent his men to supper. They feasted
merrily on their "pieces of bulls' and horses' flesh," and then lay down
on the grass to smoke a pipe of tobacco before turning in. That last
night's camp was peaceful and beautiful: the men were fed and near their
quarry, the sun had dried their wet clothes; the night was fine, the
stars shone, the Panama guns were harmless. They slept "with great
repose and huge satisfaction," careless of the chance of battle, and
anxious for the fight to begin.
PANAMA
Old Panama, the chief Spanish city in South America, with the one
exception of Cartagena, was built along the sea-beach, fronting the bay
of Panama, between the rivers Gallinero and Matasnillos. It was founded
between 1518 and 1520 by Pedrarias Davila, a poor adventurer, who came
to the Spanish Indies to supersede Balboa, having at that time "nothing
but a sword and buckler." Davila gave it the name of an Indian village
then standing on the site. The name means "abounding in fish." It soon
became the chief commercial city in those parts, for all the gold and
silver and precious merchandise of Peru and Chili were collected there
for transport to Porto Bello. At the time of Morgan's attack upon it, it
contained some 7000 houses, with a number of huts and hovels for the
slaves. The population, counting these latter, may have been as great as
30,000. Many of the houses were of extreme beauty, being built of an
aromatic rose wood, or "native cedar," ingeniously carved. Many were
built of stone in a Moorish fashion, with projecting upper storeys. It
had several stone monasteries and convents, and a great cathedral,
dedicated to St Anastasius, which was the most glorious building in
Spanish America. Its tower still stands as a landmark to sailors,
visible many miles to sea. The stones of it are decorated with defaced
carvings. Inside it, within the ruined walls, are palm and cedar trees,
green and beautiful, over the roots of which swarm the scarlet-spotted
coral snakes. The old town was never properly fortified. The isthmus
was accounted a sufficient protection to it, and the defences were
consequently weak. It was a town of merchants, who "thought only of
becoming rich, and cared little for the public good." They lived a very
stately life there, in houses hung with silk, stamped leather, and
Spanish paintings, drinking Peruvian wines out of cups of gold and
silver. The Genoese Company, a company of slavers trading with Guinea,
had a "stately house" there, with a spacious slave market, where the
blacks were sold over the morning glass. The Spanish King had some long
stone stables in the town, tended by a number of slaves. Here the horses
and mules for the recuas were stabled in long lines, like the stables of
a cavalry barrack. Near these were the royal storehouses, built of
stone, for the storage of the gold from the King's mines. There were
also 200 merchants' warehouses, built in one storey, round which the
slaves slept, under pent roofs.
Outside the city was the beautiful green savannah, a rolling sea of
grass, with islands of trees, cedar and palm, thickly tangled with the
many-coloured bindweeds. To one side of it, an arm of the sea crept
inland, to a small salt lagoon, which rippled at high tide, at the back
of the city. The creek was bridged to allow the Porto Bello carriers to
enter the town, and a small gatehouse or porter's lodge protected the
way. The bridge is a neat stone arch, still standing. The streets ran
east and west, "so that when the sun rises no one can walk in any of the
streets, because there is no shade whatever; and this is felt very much
as the heat is intense; and the sun is so prejudicial to health, that if
a man is exposed to its rays for a few hours, he will be attacked with a
fatal illness [pernicious fever], and this has happened to many." The
port was bad for shipping, because of the great rise and fall of the
tides. The bay is shallow, and ships could only come close in at high
water. At low water the town looked out upon a strip of sand and a mile
or more of very wet black mud. "At full moon, the waves frequently reach
the houses and enter those on that side of the town." The roadstead
afforded safe anchorage for the great ships coming up from Lima. Loading
and unloading was performed by launches, at high water, on days when the
surf was moderate. Small ships sailed close in at high tide, and beached
themselves.
To landward there were many gardens and farms, where the Spaniards had
"planted many trees from Spain"--such as oranges, lemons, and figs.
There were also plantain walks, and a great plenty of pines, guavas,
onions, lettuces, and "alligator pears." Over the savannah roamed herds
of fat cattle. On the seashore, "close to the houses of the city," were
"quantities of very small mussels." The presence of these mussel beds
determined the site of the town, "because the Spaniards felt themselves
safe from hunger on account of these mussels."
The town is all gone now, saving the cathedral tower, where the sweet
Spanish bells once chimed, and the little stone bridge, worn by so many
mules' hoofs. There is dense tropical forest over the site of it, though
the foundations of several houses may be traced, and two or three walls
still stand, with brilliant creepers covering up the carved work. It is
not an easy place to reach, for it is some six miles from new Panama,
and the way lies through such a tangle of creepers, over such swampy
ground, poisonous with so many snakes, that it is little visited. It can
be reached by sea on a fine day at high tide if the surf be not too
boisterous. To landward of the present Panama there is a fine hill,
called Mount Ançon. A little to the east of this there is a roll of high
land, now a fruitful market-garden, or farm of orchards. This high land,
some five or six miles from the ruins, is known as Buccaneers' Hill. It
was from the summit of this high land that the pirates first saw the
city steeple. Local tradition points out a few old Spanish guns of small
size, brass and iron, at the near-by village of El Moro, as having been
left by Morgan's men. At the island of Taboga, in the bay of Panama,
they point with pride to a cave, the haunt of squid and crabs, as the
hiding-place of Spanish treasure. In the blackness there, they say, are
the golden sacramental vessels and jewelled vestments of the great
church of St Anastasius. They were hidden there at the time of the raid,
so effectually that they could never be recovered. We can learn of no
other local tradition concerning the sack and burning.
[Illustration: NEW PANAMA]
What old Panama was like we do not know, for we can trace no picture of
it. It was said to be the peer of Venice, "the painted city," at a time
when Venice was yet the "incomparable Queene." It could hardly have been
a second Venice, though its situation on that beautiful blue bay, with
the Andes snowy in the distance, and the islands, like great green gems,
to seaward, is lovely beyond words. It was filled with glorious houses,
carved and scented, and beautiful with costly things. The merchants
lived a languorous, luxurious life there, waited on by slaves, whom they
could burn or torture at their pleasure. It was "the greatest mart for
gold and silver in the whole world." There were pearl fisheries up and
down the bay, yielding the finest of pearls; and "golden Potosi"--the
tangible Eldorado, was not far off. The merchants of old Panama were,
perhaps, as stately fellows and as sumptuous in their ways of life as
any "on the Rialto." Their city is now a tangle of weeds and a heap of
sun-cracked limestone; their market-place is a swamp; their haven is a
stretch of surf-shaken mud, over which the pelicans go quarrelling for
the bodies of fish.
_Authorities._--Exquemeling's "History"; "The Bucaniers of America."
Don Guzman's Account, printed in the "Voyages and Adventures of
Captain Bartholomew Sharp." Cal. State Papers: West Indies and
Colonial Series. "Present State of Jamaica," 1683. "New History of
Jamaica," 1740.
For my account of Chagres I am indebted to friends long resident on
the isthmus, and to Dampier's and Wafer's Voyages.