EASTWARD HO!
Panama awoke with the sun, discovered the flight of the galley, and
made ready for pursuit. There were some small craft in the bay, and
these were manned with Indians and soldiers and sent out to sea; but
they came back as they went. Truth to tell, the flotilla would have
stood no chance against the guns of the _Santa Maria_, and those aboard
the tossing boats knew that.
Thereafter, for some weeks, the town lived its nights in alarm. Fires
burned along the fort and on the most seaward points of the bay. No
man expected other than that the slaves would come back in the darkness
and take a terrible revenge for the cruelties they had suffered. But
Panama was alarmed quite needlessly: the galley never rode on its
waters again.
The first care of the revolted slaves was to get as far away from their
late masters as possible. In spite of their fatigue, they rowed hard
until daybreak. At first there was some difficulty with the European
riff-raff. These wanted to swagger about on deck and bully the
Indians; but neither Hernando nor his two English friends would hear of
it. They had chosen the able-bodied sailors from amongst the rowers,
and placed them on deck to attend to helm and sails. All not wanted
for this duty must sit at the oars. Two or three flatly refused to do
so, and began to talk above their deserts. They were promptly put back
into chains again, and Hernando stood over them with a whip and flogged
them into work. The lesson was not lost on the others.
A breeze came up with the sun; sails were spread, sweeps taken in, and
the Indians freed from their chains. The delight of the poor fellows
was unbounded. They fell down before their rescuers, worshipping them;
then they rushed up on deck, dancing and singing like a mob of children
let loose from confinement. There was plenty of excellent food aboard,
and for once the rowers fed sumptuously. The breeze continuing, all
save the three commanders and the deck hands laid themselves down and
slept until nearly noon. Then labour began again. The wind still held
strongly, so the natives were put to work cleansing the slave-deck of
its accumulated filth. The chains, save about a score of the strongest
sets, were tossed overboard. These were kept in case of mutiny amongst
the scum whites. There was no fear of trouble with the natives; the
faithful, grateful creatures would follow their liberators everywhere.
The cleaning being finished, a council of all the whites--save the
three put into bonds--was held on the after-deck. Hernando, as prime
mover in the revolt, presided. As the Spaniard was a good seaman, he
was unanimously appointed captain; whereupon he chose Morgan, Jeffreys,
and a trustworthy Spaniard as his chief officers. Then, before the
whole assembly, he swore solemnly to do his utmost for the welfare of
his ship; and his three officers, having his promise to issue no orders
that a gentleman might hesitate to fulfil, solemnly swore to obey him
to the death. The others, according to their several stations, took
vows of faithful obedience to their officers.
The captain then proceeded to set matters in order. There were
prisoners in the cabins near them; these were brought forth one by one,
and examined with commendable fairness. Morgan was surprised at the
change in Hernando. He had expected to find him vindictive and cruel,
and he knew that not a soul in the fore-part of the galley had been
spared in the darkness of the previous night. But liberty had softened
the Spaniard; he remembered the injustice he had suffered, not with a
view to exacting "eye for eye" and "tooth for tooth" from others, but
with the resolve not to inflict injustice upon his fellows. The trials
of the prisoners took up the remainder of the day. Some who had been
cruel to the slaves were hanged with but little ceremony; it was hardly
to be expected that men whose backs still smarted would do otherwise.
The two boatswains had perished the night before; the chief boatswain
was doomed to share their fate; two others were hanged; the rest were
sent below to the slave-deck, and chained to one of the oars, far
enough away from the troublesome slaves who were undergoing punishment.
The night passed without alarm. Hernando and Morgan walked the deck
for hours in the starlight, planning for the future. They saw the
difficulties and dangers of their position, but could not clearly see a
way out of them. They had a ship, well manned and well armed, and
fairly well victualled. What should they do with her? Search would be
made for them, and galley after galley, ship after ship, coming into
Panama, would be sent in quest of them. It they continued in Spanish
waters, they must be overtaken at some time or other. What would the
result be? They had guns, ammunition, and a fair supply of weapons,
but their fighting capacity was very small. The Indians--or most of
them--must be at the oars. Out of less than a score of Europeans, some
must be about deck duties. A mere handful of men would be left to work
the guns and fight. A foe of any strength must inevitably capture them.
Should they attempt to cross the Atlantic to England? There again came
the question of capture. Would the Indians remain faithful if any
attempt were made to take them thousands of miles from their homes?
Should they turn corsairs; capture a sailing ship; set the Indians
ashore on their own coast, or leave them the galley to do as they
pleased with it? The two men could not make up their minds.
The next day the same thoughts came to the rest of the Europeans, and
they were heard discussing their chances of ultimate escape. Another
full council was held, and the position placed clearly before them all.
There were many differences of opinion, but eventually it was agreed
that there was too much danger in remaining near the seaboard of
Spanish America, and equal or greater peril to be encountered in an
attempt to make a winter passage to Europe. No man would face the
voyage round Cape Horn with an inadequate crew and a clumsy galley
mainly propelled by oars. The voyage would take nearly a year, and
they had provisions for about a fortnight. The plan of capturing a
small ship was more favourably considered; but the question arose,
Where could such a ship be found? If they got into the ordinary track
of navigation, other and less welcome vessels might sight them. The
position was distinctly perilous, and a bad feature of it all was that
some of the rescued men were thoroughly treacherous and untrustworthy,
and others so broken down by years of slavery as to be helpless for
strenuous action. The three ringleaders saw plainly that they had less
than a dozen men, including themselves, that could be relied upon for
loyal, valiant, and intelligent conduct in an emergency. They went to
rest that night with no definite plans for the morrow. The galley was
kept slowly going northward towards the Pacific coast of Mexico; the
oars were little used.
The next morning Hernando took definite steps. He took the captured
officers and the recalcitrant whites, put them into a boat within sight
of land, set them adrift, and stood out to sea again. He had none
under his command then who were not at least faithful.
For a couple of days he went north, well out to sea. Then he turned
inshore again, coasted for a while, until he came to a wooded bay that
offered good anchorage. Entering this he dropped his anchor, and went
ashore with Morgan and half a dozen or so of the Indians. The party
was away for some hours, and only returned at sunset. The next day the
object of the expedition was disclosed. Hernando called the whole
crew, white and Indian, before him. He explained the dangers they were
hourly in on the high seas, and the impossibility of fighting any
strong adversary. Food was running short, and a long voyage in the
galley was out of the question. He proposed to take to the land
himself, and hazard his chance of life and liberty there. The Indians
could scatter abroad. The forest teemed with game, and he and his
party had seen many streams. No village or town was anywhere in sight.
The chances of escape into Mexico were excellent for whites and natives
alike. Or any man who wished it might try to reach his own tribe
again; a matter of half a moon of marching would bring him to his
people. Every man should take some weapon and as much food as he cared
to carry. His plan included the burning of the galley, so that all
trace of them might be lost.
The natives rejoiced at the chance of quitting the hated galley for
their native woods, and the Europeans saw that their captain's plan
offered them the best hope of safety; they agreed also.
The _Santa Maria_ was partially dismantled. All that was of value in
her was taken out; the food was shared, arms distributed, and the whole
party went ashore in the boats. Hernando stayed last, and fired the
vessel before he left her. During the whole night she blazed,
illuminating the camp of her late occupants amid the trees on the
shore. The Indians had rigged up two tents with the sails, and in
these their white companions slept comfortably.
No move was made from the camping-place on the shore for several days.
The Indians scouted round in all directions, going fifty or sixty miles
through forest and over mountain, and spying out the land. Hernando,
meanwhile, tried to get some idea of his position on the Pacific coast.
From his observations, and the reports of the natives, he concluded
that he must be somewhere west of the great lake of Nicaragua, and in a
line for the small town of San Juan on the Atlantic coast, not more
than a week's march away.
When fairly satisfied of this, he struck his camp, and marched inland
over the mountains. The natives carried one boat. In due time they
saw a vast stretch of water below them, and knew that the lake lay in
their path.
On the shores of the lake the white men had decided to part from their
native companions. Villages clustered here and there on the margin of
the waters, and the appearance of a large company would spread alarm,
and send reports through the land that might betray them all. The
leave-taking was pathetic enough. The poor Indians looked like so many
helpless children. They begged the white men to stay with them, and
settle in the mountains between the lake and the sea. The country was
rich, and food and water plentiful. They would be faithful children to
their white fathers, if the latter would but stay to guide, protect,
and counsel them.
But neither Englishmen nor Spaniards had any desire to rule as petty
chiefs in a Central American forest; their thoughts and hopes took
higher flights than that. Adieus were said; the Europeans took to
their boat, with but one Indian as a scout and possible interpreter,
and pulled out from the shore, the mass of natives rushing after them
into the water, weeping and lamenting.
The passage of the lake was safely accomplished; the course of a river
flowing into it was followed as far as it was navigable. Then the
party camped whilst the Indian went to the hilltops in the east, and
surveyed the land that sloped away to the coast. He was away about
forty hours.
On his return with a favourable report the camp was struck and the boat
burned. Then, carefully covering up their tracks, the fugitives set
out for the Atlantic coast. It was hardly possible that any report of
their escape would have reached so far, and the authorities would never
look for them on the eastern ocean.
When the outskirts of San Juan were reached, Hernando went on as
advance guard. The next day they all entered the town as a party of
shipwrecked sailors. The Englishmen had been rechristened with Spanish
names for the nonce, and they wisely left the talking to their Spanish
companions. They were received without suspicion.