IN THE TRACK OF PLATE-FLEETS AND BUCCANEERS
"O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts are boundless and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway,
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change."
--Byron, The Corsair.
Barranquilla, a city of about sixty-five thousand inhabitants,
is notable for being the chief port of entry of Colombia. It is
estimated that two-thirds of the commerce of the republic converges
at this point. To us, coming from the interior of the country, where
comparatively little business is transacted, the place seemed to be a
marvel of activity and business enterprise. It counts a large number
of important business houses, the chief of which are controlled
by foreigners. It is provided with tram-ways, electric lights,
telephones, a good water supply and, in many respects, reminds one
of our progressive cities on the Gulf Coast. Many of the private
residences, especially in the more elevated quarters of the city,
are models of comfort and good taste. The average annual temperature
is 80° F., but the refreshing breezes from the Caribbean make it seem
less. At no time during our sojourn of more than a week in the city,
had we reason to complain of the excessive heat of which so much has
been said and written.
Although Barranquilla was founded in 1629, it is only within the
last third of a century that it has come to the front as the leading
entrepot of the republic. Before this time, Cartagena and Santa Marta
were Colombia's principal ports and busiest marts. This change in
the relative importance of these three ports was effected by the
construction of a great pier at Savanilla and connecting it with
Barranquilla by rail. After this both Cartagena and Santa Marta
rapidly dwindled in importance as distributing centres, while the
growth of Barranquilla was correspondingly rapid. Were it not for the
banana industry, controlled by the United Fruit Company, an American
corporation, Santa Marta's trade would now be little more than nominal.
But why, it will be asked, do not ocean vessels dock at Barranquilla
instead of unloading so far away from the city? The usual answer given,
and in a way the correct one, is that the Magdalena is not deep enough
to permit the passage of so large vessels. We saw one venturesome
ocean liner stranded near the mouth of the river on a sand bar, where
it had been washed and pounded for nearly two years. Many attempts had
been made to float her but without success, and it seemed as if she
was destined to remain a captive of the treacherous shoal that had
so long held her in its unyielding grasp. The real reason, however,
for not having the landing place where it should be--in the city
itself--is the lack of the capital that would be required to dredge
the river, and enlarge the canal, and keep them both in a condition
that would insure the safe passage of vessels of heavy draft. Given
an engineer like James B. Eades, of Mississippi jetties fame, and
the necessary capital, the improvement would soon be effected.
Before leaving Bogotá we had planned to reach Barranquilla in time
to take an English steamer from Savanilla--Puerto Colombia--to
Colon. We then flattered ourselves that, after reaching the mouth of
the Magdalena, we should have no difficulty in making connection for
any part of the world, and that delay in continuing our journey was
the last thing to be apprehended.
But alas and alack! Where we least expected it, we were doomed to
disappointment. We had crossed the continent without a single failure
to connect, as we had anticipated, except at Barrigón, where we were
detained a day, and had not experienced a single disagreeable delay,
and now, when we had reached the world lines of travel, we were
informed that the steamer we had intended to take had been laid up
for repairs, and that we should be obliged to wait a week before
another would arrive.
There was nothing to do but resign ourselves to the
inevitable. Barranquilla is not a place where a traveler would
care to remain long as a matter of choice, but we managed to make
ourselves comfortable. The time passed more quickly and pleasantly
than we anticipated, but, just as we began to make preparations for our
departure, we found ourselves the victims of a new disappointment. The
steamer that we were to take was forbidden to land at Savanilla, in
consequence of having stopped at Trinidad, which was then reported
to be infected by the bubonic plague.
"Truly," we said, "we are getting into the region of mañana--delay and
disappointment--just at the moment when we thought we were leaving it."
We had been so fortunate thus far, and that too in lands where, we had
been assured, everything would be against us and where the best-laid
plans would be frustrated, that we were ill prepared for delay where
it was least expected. Happily for us, however, a steamer, having
a clean bill of health, but belonging to another line, was due in a
few days, and this we determined to take, for we did not know when we
should be able to get another one. When once the plague appears in the
West Indies, or on the mainland bordering the Caribbean, quarantine
regulations are strictly enforced, and the luckless traveler may find
himself a prisoner for weeks, and even months, in a place that is
practically destitute of the commonest comforts and conveniences of
life. Then, indeed, his lot--especially if he is not familiar with
the language of the country--is far from enviable. I have met with
many people who, under such untoward conditions, had to endure the
greatest privations and sufferings.
By the greatest good fortune, it seemed to us, we finally got aboard a
good, comfortable vessel. It was not, however, bound for our objective
point--Colon--but for Puerto Limon, in Costa Rica. This, although we
did not know it at the time, was a blessing in disguise. Had we gone
directly to Colon, we should have been obliged to spend some time in
quarantine. By going to Costa Rica, we escaped this and were able,
during a week, to combine utile dulci--study with pleasure--under
the most favorable and delightful circumstances.
From Puerto Colombia we went directly to Cartagena--a city that,
in some respects, possessed a greater interest for us than any we
had hitherto visited in South America. We entered this famous harbor,
large enough to hold all the navies of the world, early in the morning,
just as the sun was beginning to impart a subdued roseate glow to
the tiled roofs of the loftier buildings of the once flourishing
metropolis of New Granada.
The picture of Cartagena, as it first presented itself to our view,
was one of rarest loveliness. As we then saw it, it was not unlike
Venice as seen from Il Lido or from the deck of a steamer arriving
from Trieste. From another point as we advanced into the placid bay,
we discerned in it a resemblance to Alexandria, as viewed from the
Mediterranean. As Venice has been called the Queen of the Adriatic,
so also, and justly, did the beauteous city of Pedro de Heredia long
bear the proud title of Reina de las Indias y Reina de los Mares,
Queen of the Indies and Queen of the Seas.
One of the first cities built on Tierra Firme, it was also, for a
long period, one of the most important places in the New World. Its
fortifications and the massive walls that girdle it have long been
celebrated. Even now these are the features that have the greatest
attraction for the visitor. Stupendous is the only word that adequately
characterizes them. Their immensity impresses one like the pyramids of
Ghizeh, and this impression is fully confirmed when one learns their
cost and the number of men engaged in their construction. It is said
that from thirty to one hundred thousand men were employed on this
titanic undertaking, and that it cost no less than fifty-nine million
dollars--a fabulous sum for that period. This reminds one of what
historians relate regarding the building of the pyramid of Cheops,
the greatest and most enduring of human monuments, as the walls of
Cartagena are the grandest and most imposing evidence of Spanish power
in the western hemisphere. So great was the draft made on the royal
exchequer by the construction of these massive walls that Philip II,
so the story runs, one day seized a field glass and looking in the
direction of Cartagena, murmured with disenchanted irony: "Can one
see those walls? They must be very high, for the price paid?"
No wonder that Charles V was always in need of money, and that,
to secure it, he was forced to mortgage a large tract of land in
Venezuela to the Welsers, the German bankers of Augsburg. No wonder
that Philip II, despite the stream of gold and silver that flowed into
his coffers from his vast possessions beyond the sea, was, during the
second half of his reign, forced to see his royal signature dishonored
by bankers who refused him further credit!
Cartagena in Colombia was named after Cartagena in Spain, as the
Spanish city, founded by Hasdrubal as an outpost to serve in future
Punic campaigns, was named from the celebrated Tyrian emporium that
was so long the rival of Rome. And when the sons of the Caribbean
Carthage sailed up the Cauca to establish new colonies and extend the
sphere of Spanish influence and enterprise, they commemorated their
triumph, and exhibited their loyalty to the land of their birth,
by founding still another Carthage--the Cartago of the Upper Cauca.
And what an eventful story is that of the Caribbean Cartagena! What
changes has she not witnessed! What fortunes of war has she not
experienced! What disasters has she not suffered! Like her African
prototype, whose very strength caused her rival on the Tiber to
decree her downfall, Cartagena seemed to be singled out for attack
by all the enemies of Spain for long generations. Her cyclopean
walls, that seemed to render her impregnable, did not save her. Time
and again she was assaulted by pirates and buccaneers, who levied
heavy tributes and carried off booty of inestimable value. Drake,
Morgan, Pointis [269] and Vernon attacked and ravaged her in turn,
but unlike the Carthage of the hapless Dido, she still survives. And
notwithstanding the four long sieges she sustained and the vicissitudes
through which she passed during the protracted War of Independence,
when she was hailed as La Ciudad Heroica--The heroic city--her walls,
after three and a half centuries, are still in a marvelous state of
preservation and evoke the admiration of all who behold them.
Everywhere within the city, which during colonial times enjoyed
the monopoly of commerce with Spain, are evidences of departed
grandeur. Churches, and palaces and monastic institutions, beautiful
and grandiose, still retain much of the glamour of days long past. In
the charming plazas, shaded by graceful palms and adorned with
richest tropical verdure and bloom; along the narrow streets flanked
by spacious edifices and ornamented with multi-colored balconies
and curiously grated windows, one feels always under the spell of
a proud and romantic past, of an age of chivalry of which only the
memory remains. The architecture of many of the buildings, erstwhile
homes of wealth and culture and refinement, is Moorish in character
and carried us back to many happy days spent in fair Andalusia in
its once noble capitals, Granada and Seville.
Strolling along the grass-grown pavements of Cartagena, we note in the
former flourishing metropolis what Wordsworth observed in Bruge's town,
"Many a street
Whence busy life has fled."
But we also discern unmistakable signs of an awakening to a new
life, and of the dawn of a new era of prosperity and mercantile
greatness. Notwithstanding the venerable years in which she is at
present arrayed, we can, without being horoscopists, safely presage
that the benignant stars are sure to bring
"What fate denies to man,--a second spring."
To enjoy the best view of Cartagena, one must ascend an eminence to
the east of the city called La Popa, from its fancied resemblance to
the lofty stern of a fifteenth century ship. There, seated under an
umbrageous cocoa palm, fully five hundred feet above the beautiful
iris-blue bay that washes the walls that encircle the city, one has
before him one of the most charming panoramas in the world; one which
during more than three centuries, was the witness of some of the most
stirring events in history. In the broad, steep harbor, protected
on all sides by frowning fortresses, the Spanish plate-fleets long
found refuge from corsairs and sea rovers. It was here, when pirates
and buccaneers made it unsafe to transport treasure by the Pacific,
that gold and silver were brought from Bolivia to Peru, Ecuador and
New Granada by way of the Andean plateau and the Cauca and Magdalena
rivers.
One is stupefied when one considers what an expenditure of energy
this implied. Think of transporting gold and silver ingots a distance
of more than two thousand miles, over the arid deserts of Bolivia and
Peru, and across the chilly punas and paramos of the lofty Cordilleras;
of securing it against loss in passing along dizzy ravines, across
furious torrents, through the almost impenetrable forests of New
Granada, often infested by hostile Indians. And remember, that, for
a part of this long distance, these heavy burdens had to be carried
by human beings, for no other means of transportation were available.
And when one considers the amount of the treasure thus transported
from points as distant as the flanks of Potosi and the auriferous
deposits of the distant Pilcomayo, the wonder grows apace. According
to the estimates of reliable historians, the amount of gold and silver
imported into Spain from her American possessions from 1502 to 1775 was
no less than the colossal sum of ten billion dollars. [270] Nearly two
billions of this treasure were taken from the famous silver mines of
Potosi alone. The greater part of the bullion from Peru was shipped
by the South Sea to Panama and Nombre de Dios and thence carried to
Spain in carefully guarded plate-fleets. But after the pirates and
buccaneers became active along the western coast of South America,
the ingots of the precious metals, yielded by the mines between
Chile and the Caribbean were transported overland and deposited in
carefully guarded galleons awaiting them in the harbor of the Queen
of the Indies.
But even then the treasure was not safe. It was, indeed, much more
exposed on the way from Cartagena to Palos and Cadiz than it had
been from the time it had been dispatched from the smelter until its
arrival at the great stronghold on the Caribbean. For then, suddenly
and without warning, like a flock of vultures that had scented carrion
from afar, there gathered from all points of the compass English
buccaneers, French filibusters, and Dutch freebooters and harassed
the galleons until they succumbed. So successful did these daring sea
robbers eventually become that no galleon dared to venture alone on
the waters of the Indian seas, and only strongly guarded plate-fleets
could hope to escape capture by their alert and venturesome enemies,
who swarmed over the Caribbean from the Lesser Antilles to Yucatan,
and terrorized the coast of the Spanish Main from one end to the other.
One loves to conjecture what might have been if Charles V or Philip
II had been endowed with the genius of a Napoleon or a Cæsar. Masters
of the greater part of Europe, and undisputed sovereigns of the major
portion of the Western Hemisphere, with untold wealth continually
pouring into their treasury, then was the time--the only time,
probably, in the history of the modern world--to realize Dante's fond
dream of a universal monarchy. But neither Charles nor Philip had the
genius required, and the one opportunity, that ever presented itself,
of making Spanish possessions coextensive with the world's surface,
was lost and lost forever.
The sun was rapidly approaching the western horizon when we took our
departure from the beautiful and picturesque harbor of the Queen of
the Seas. In a short time the coast of what was once known as Castilla
del Oro--Golden Castile--had disappeared from our view and the prow of
our vessel was directed towards the historic land of Costa Rica--the
Rich Coast--discovered by Columbus during his fourth voyage.
The night following our visit to Cartagena was an ideal one, a
night for wakeful dreams and the sweet delights of reverie. There was
scarcely a ripple on the waters, and the stars of the firmament seemed
to shine with an unwonted effulgence. All was peace and tranquillity,
and everything seemed to proclaim the joy of living.
How different was old Benzoni's experience in these same waters and
during the same season of the year! "In consequence of contrary winds,"
he tells us, "we remained there seventy-two days, and in all this time
we did not see four hours of sunshine. Almost constantly and especially
at night, there was so much heavy rain, and thunder and lightning,
that it seemed as if both heaven and earth would be destroyed." [271]
The experience of Columbus was even more terrifying. In a letter to
Ferdinand and Isabella, giving an account of his fourth voyage, the
great navigator informs them that, so great was the force of wind
and current, he was able to advance only seventy leagues in sixty
days. During this time, there was no "cessation of the tempest,
which was one continuation of rain, thunder and lightning; indeed,
it seemed as if it were the end of the world.... Eighty-eight days
did this fearful tempest continue, during which I was at sea, and saw
neither sun nor stars." [272] The name Cape Gracias á Dios--Thanks
be to God--which he gave to the easternmost point of Nicaragua and
Honduras, still remains to attest his gratitude for his miraculous
escape from what for many long weeks seemed certain destruction.
It was our good fortune, during all our cruising in the Caribbean,
to enjoy the most delightful weather, but we never appreciated it
so much as we did during our voyage from Cartagena to Puerto Limon,
and more especially during the first night after our departure from
the Colombian coast. We were then sailing in waters that had been
rendered famous by the achievements of some of the most remarkable men
named in the annals of early American discovery and conquest, where
every green island and silent bay, every barren rock and sandy key,
has its legend, and where, at every turn, one breathes an atmosphere
of romance and wonderland.
At one time we were following in the wake of the illustrious Admiral
of the Ocean; at another we were in the track of Amerigo Vespucci
and Juan de la Cosa, that brave Biscayan pilot who was regarded by
his companions as an oracle of the sea. Rodrigo de Bastidas, Alonso
de Ojeda and Diego de Nicuesa passed this way, as did Vasco Nuñez de
Balboa, the discoverer of the Great South Sea, who, his countrymen
declared, never knew when he was beaten, and who, according to Fiske,
was "by far the most attractive figure among the Spanish adventurers
of that time." [273] The Pizarros and Almagro sailed these waters,
before embarking at Panama on that marvelous expedition which resulted
in the conquest of Peru. And so did Orellana, the discoverer of the
Amazon, and Belalcazar, the noted conquistador and rival of Quesada
and Federmann. And then, too, there was Gonzalez Davila, the explorer
of Nicaragua, and Hernando Cortes, the conqueror of Mexico.
And last, but the best and noblest of them all, was the gentle and
indefatigable Las Casas, the protector of the aborigines and the
Apostle of the Indies, whose memory is still held in benediction in all
Latin America. His voluminous writings, making more than ten thousand
pages octavo, much of which is devoted to the defense of the Indians,
constitute a monument which will endure as long as men shall love truth
and justice. But his greatest monument--one that is absolutely unique
in the history of civilization--is his former diocese of Chiapa, which
is just northwest of the land towards which we are sailing. When he
went to take possession of it, it was occupied by savage warriors who
had successfully resisted all attempts made by the Spaniards to subdue
them. It was considered tantamount to certain death to enter their
jealously-guarded territory. But Las Casas, armed only with the image
of the Crucified and the gospel of peace, soon had these wild children
of the forest prostrate at his feet, begging him to remain with them
as their father and friend. So successful was his work among them that
the land which, before his arrival, had been known as La Provincia
de Guerra--The Province of War--was thereafter called La Provincia de
Vera Paz--The Province of True Peace--a name it bears to the present
day. And more remarkable still, this particular part of Guatemala is
said to have a denser Indian population, in proportion to its area,
than any other part of Latin America. Truly, this is a monument worthy
of the name, and one that would have appealed most strongly to the
loving heart of the courageous protector of the Indians. [274]
But discoverers and explorers, conquistadores and apostles, were
not the only men who have rendered this part of the world forever
memorable. There were others, but many of them were of a vastly
different type. I refer to the pirates and Buccaneers, who so long
spread terror in these parts and ultimately destroyed the commercial
supremacy of Spain in the New World, and contributed so materially
to the final extinction of her sovereign power. Many of them have
written their names large on the scroll of history and often in
characters of blood. Many of them were pirates of the worst type,
who flew at every flag they saw, who recognized no right but might,
and whose sole object was indiscriminate robbery on both sea and
land. These outlaws, however, have no interest for us now.
Besides these unscrupulous and sanguinary pirates, there was another
class of men whom their friends and countrymen insist on grouping
in a class by themselves. The majority of these were Englishmen, of
whom the most distinguished representatives, along the Spanish Main,
were Raleigh, Hawkins and Drake. When these men did not act under
secret commissions from their government, they relied on its tacit
connivance in all the depredations for which they are so notorious. In
the light of international law, as we now understand it, they were
as much pirates as those who attacked the ships of all nations, and
as such they have always been regarded by Spanish writers. All three
of the men just mentioned made their raids on Spanish possessions
while England was at peace with Spain. Thus the two nations were at
peace when Drake sacked Panama in 1586, as they were at peace when
Raleigh attacked Trinidad in 1595. These sea rovers lived up to the
old forecastle phrase, "No peace beyond the line" [275] and recognized,
at least in the Spanish territory in the New World, no law of nations
except that
"They should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can."
"The case," as old Fuller quaintly puts it in his Holy and Profane
State, "was clear in sea-divinity; and few are such infidels as not
to believe doctrines which make for their own profit."
So far as England acquiesced in, or connived at what the Spaniards
always denounced as downright piracy, it was doubtless ever with
the view of weakening the menacing power of the dominant Spanish
empire. She was also actuated by "an aggressive determination
to break down the barriers with which Spanish policy sought to
enclose the New World and to shut out the way to the Indies." In this
determination England had the sympathy of France and often its active
coöperation. For a similar reason Dutch sea rovers swarmed over the
Caribbean Sea. All were aware of the magnitude of the struggle in
which they were engaged, and realized that their existence as nations
depended on their crippling their common enemy by striking at the
sources of his power in the Western Hemisphere.
Much might be said of the reckless audacity, brilliant achievements
and skillful seamanship of these privateers or pirates--whatever one
chooses to call them--that read more like fable or romance than sober
chronicles of authentic fact, but space does not permit. Besides,
we are more interested in another class of sea rovers of a later
date, whose names and exploits are inseparably connected with the
West Indies and the great South Sea. I refer to the Buccaneers, or,
as they called themselves, the Brethren of the Coast.
Our knowledge of these extraordinary adventurers is derived mainly from
themselves. Of English Buccaneers the most interesting narratives have
been left us by Sharp, Cowley, Ringrose and Dampier. The Frenchman,
Ravenau de Lussan, has also left us a record of value. The most popular
work, however, and the one that gives us the truest insight into
the manners and customs of the Brethren of the Coast, and recounts
with the greatest detail their deeds of daring and cruelty, is that
given to the world by the Dutchman Esquemeling. It was entitled De
Americaensche Zee Rovers and was, on its appearance, immediately
translated into the principal languages of Europe. The fact that
Esquemeling was with the Buccaneers for five years, and was with them,
too, on many of their most important expeditions, gave him unusual
opportunities for collecting facts at first hand and studying the
methods of procedure of his reckless and often brutal associates.
By the Spaniards, the Brethren of the Coast have always been regarded
as pirates--for the same reason as Raleigh, Drake and Hawkins and
their associates were regarded as pirates--because they conducted their
lawless operations when England and Spain were at peace. But there was
the same difference between Buccaneers and ordinary pirates as there
was between the corsairs just mentioned and ordinary pirates. The
latter attacked vessels of every nation, while the Buccaneers, like
Drake and his compatriots, confined themselves to preying on Spanish
shipping and sacking Spanish towns and strongholds.
Some became Buccaneers because they had a grievance, real or
imaginary, against the Spaniards, others because they chafed under
the monopolizing policy of the Spanish government, and wished to
secure a part of the ever-increasing trade with the New World, while
others still joined the ranks of the Brethren because they relished
the life of excitement and adventure it held forth, or because they
found it the easiest means of gaining a livelihood.
Esquemeling was among the last of these classes. After being twice
sold as a slave, he finally obtained his liberty when, to use his own
words, "Though like Adam when he was first created, that is, naked and
destitute of all human necessaries, not knowing how to get my living,
I determined to enter into the Order of the Pyrates or Robbers at
Sea." [276]
The cradle of the extraordinary "Order of Pyrates," of which
Esquemeling was to be the most distinguished chronicler, was Tortuga,
a small, rocky island off the northwest corner of Haiti. It was visited
by Columbus during his first voyage, and, from the number of turtles
found there, was called Tortuga--the Spanish for turtle--the name
it still retains. But small as it was, it was destined to become
"the common refuge of all sorts of wickedness, and the seminary,
as it were of pyrates and thieves." [277]
The name Buccaneer is derived from "bucan," a Carib word signifying a
wooden gridiron on which meat is smoked. Originally, the term Buccaneer
was applied to the French settlers of Española, whose chief occupation
was to hunt wild cattle and hogs, which roamed over the island in large
numbers, and cure their flesh by bucaning it, that is smoking it on a
bucan. [278] When they were driven from their business of bucaning by
the Spaniards, they took refuge in Tortuga, where they were soon joined
by many English adventurers. Here they combined to make war on Spain
in her American colonies, and for more than a half century they carried
terror and destruction to every part of the Caribbean archipelago.
But, notwithstanding their change of occupation, their old name
of Buccaneer clung to them, and, as such, they are still known
in history. Like the bold Vikings of the North, who were so long
the scourge of western and southern Europe, the Buccaneers were the
scourge of Spanish America from Tortuga to Panama and from California
to Patagonia. They warred against but one enemy--the one that had
harassed and driven them from their peaceful avocation of bucaning,
or had persecuted and oppressed their brethren in the peaceful pursuit
of commerce, when the lands of their birth, or the countries to which
they owed allegiance, were unable or unwilling to protect them.
Like the archpirate Drake, as the Spaniards called him, "They swept
the sea of every passing victualler, and added the captured cargoes
to the stores of game and fish it was their delight to catch. At
intervals along the coast and amongst the wilderness of islands,
magazines were hidden, and into these were poured the stores that had
been destined for the great plate-fleets. The shark-like pinnaces would
suddenly appear in the midst of the trade-route no one knew whence,
and laden with food, as suddenly disappear no one knew whither."
Compared with the Spaniards, they were usually in a small minority. But
in their case, as in so many similar ones, it was not numbers, but
their skill and courage, that gave them possession of rich galleons
and placed the well-guarded plate-fleets at their mercy. At times the
Buccaneers had only simple canoes--mere dugouts--but these, according
to Esquemeling, were so fleet that they might well be called "Neptune's
post-horses." In these they went out to sea for a distance of eighty
leagues and attacked heavily-armed men of war, and, before the Spanish
crew had time to realize what the daring sea rovers were after,
their vessel was in the possession of their irresistible foe. [279]
They were strangers to fear, and no undertaking was too arduous,
if the booty promised was sufficiently great. Danger and difficulty
seemed only to whet their appetite for gold and fan their passions
to a blaze. Their endurance of hunger and thirst and fatigue was as
remarkable as their hardihood was phenomenal. They were loyal to one
another and divided the spoils they secured in strict accordance with
the agreement they had entered into beforehand. "Locks and bolts were
prohibited, as such things were regarded as impeaching the honor of
their vocation."
They were religious after their own fashion. Thus it was forbidden
to hunt or cure meat on Sunday. Before going on a cruise, they
went to church to ask a blessing on their undertaking, and, after a
successful raid, they returned to the house of God to sing a hymn of
thanksgiving. We are told of a French captain who shot a filibuster
for irreverence in church during divine service, and we also read
of Captain Hawkins once throwing dice overboard when he found them
being used on the Lord's day. [280]
How all this reminds one of the conduct of that pitiless old slaver,
John Hawkins, who frequently enjoined on his crew to "serve God daily,"
and who, after escaping a heavy gale on his way from Africa to the West
Indies, whither he was bound with a shipload of kidnapped negroes,
sanctimoniously writes, "The Almighty God, who never suffereth His
elect to perish, sent us the ordinary breeze."
Although the Buccaneers frequently came into possession of immense
sums of money, they would forthwith proceed to squander it in all
kinds of dissipation and debauchery. "Such of these pyrates," writes
Esquemeling, "will spend two or three thousand pieces of eight in a
night, not leaving themselves a good shirt to wear in the morning."
At first, the Buccaneers confined themselves to depredations on
sea, but their unexpected successes on water soon emboldened them
to attack the largest and richest towns on the Spanish Main. When
these were once in their power, they exacted from their inhabitants
a heavy tribute, and if it was not paid without delay, the hapless
people, regardless of age or sex, were subjected to the most cruel
and unheard-of tortures. Puerto Principe, Maracaibo, Porto Bello,
Panama and other places were captured in turn, and some of them, when
sufficient ransom was not obtained, were burned to the ground. And so
great and so hideous were the atrocities committed in some of these
places that even Esquemeling has not the heart to do more than allude
to them. They equaled, if they did not surpass, anything recorded of
the pirates of Barbary or Malabar, and showed what fiends incarnate
men can become when carried away by insatiate greed or the spirit of
rapine and carnage.
The two Buccaneer leaders who most distinguished themselves for
their diabolical ferocity and viciousness were L'Olonnois and
Morgan. "L'Olonnois," says Burney, "was possessed with an ambition
to make himself renowned for being terrible. At one time, it is
said, he put the whole crew of a Spanish ship, ninety men, to death,
performing himself the office of executioner, by beheading them. He
caused the crews of four others vessels to be thrown into the sea;
and more than once, in his frenzies, he tore out the hearts of his
victims and devoured them." [281]
This "infernal wretch," as Esquemeling calls him, "full of horrid,
execrable and enormous deeds, and debtor to so much innocent blood,
died by cruel and butcherly hands," for the Indians of Darien, having
taken him prisoner, "tore him in pieces alive, throwing his body,
limb by limb, into the fire, and his ashes into the air, that no trace
or memory might remain of such an infamous, inhuman creature." [282]
Of Henry Morgan, who sacked Maracaibo and pillaged and burnt Panama,
the same authority declares he "may deservedly be called the second
L'Olonnois, not being unlike or inferior to him, either in achievements
against the Spaniards or robberies of many innocent people." [283]
He did not, however, share the fate of L'Olonnois. Having found favor
with King Charles II, he was knighted and made deputy governor of
Jamaica, when he turned against his former associates, many of whom he
hanged, while he delivered others up to their enemies, the Spaniards.
From the time the Buccaneers made Tortuga a base of operations until
the Peace of Ryswick, in 1697, when they were finally suppressed, was
more than half a century. From this little island they spread over
the entire Caribbean sea and had places of rendezvous in Jamaica,
Santa Catalina, the sequestered coves of the Gulf of Darien and in
many secret places along the Spanish Main. Their distinctive mark
during all this time, from which they never deviated, as it had been
the distinctive mark of pirates and privateers of England, France and
Holland during nearly a century and a half before, was their incessant
and relentless war against Spain; their determination to break her
power and destroy that trade monopoly which she was so determined
to retain.
So numerous and powerful did they eventually become that some of
their leaders, notably Mansvelt and Morgan, dreamed of establishing
an independent state. They had selected the small island of Santa
Catalina--now known as Old Providence--just a short distance north
of the course along which we are now sailing--as a starting point
and, had they undertaken this project while the French and English
Buccaneers were still united, they might have been successful. [284]
To us of the twentieth century, with our ideas of law and order,
it seems strange that the pirates and Buccaneers of the West India
islands and the Main should have been able to continue their nefarious
operations for so long a period, and that they were so numerous. But,
when we remember how they were countenanced and abetted by their
respective governments, how they were provided with letters of marque
and reprisal, how they were openly assisted by the English [285]
and French governors of the West Indies, how they were assisted
even by their own sovereigns, [286] the wonder ceases. Considering
the love of adventure that distinguished this period of the world's
history, and the princely fortunes that rewarded the successful raids
of the daring sea rovers, it is surprising that the number was not
greater. If the same conditions now obtained, it is safe to say that
the seas would swarm with similar adventurers. It is interesting to
surmise what would now be the condition of the Western Hemisphere if
the Buccaneers, instead of confining themselves to capturing treasure
ships and sacking towns, had, like the bold Vikings, their antitypes,
set out to conquer and colonize.
Whatever else may be said of the Buccaneers, there can be no doubt
that it is to them that England owes her proud title of Mistress
of the Seas. They gave birth to her great navy, and developed that
great merchant marine whose flags are to-day seen in every port of
the world. They distinguished themselves in the destruction of the
Spanish Armada, and closely followed Magellan in circumnavigating
the globe. They had a hand in the formation of the East India Company
and were "Britain's sword and shield for the defence of her nascent
colonies."
Of the occupation of the Buccaneers one can assert what James Jeffrey
Roche writes of that of the filibusters of the middle of the last
century--that it "is no longer open to private individuals. The
great powers have monopolized the business, conducting it as such and
stripping it of its last poor remnant of romance, without investing
it with a scrap of improved morality." [287]
And one can also say of them, what Byron writes of his Corsair,
that they left a
"Name to other climes
Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes."