Caribbean (48 page)

LOG OF A BUCCANEER

T
UE
14 M
ARCH
1671
: One of the darkest days of my life. For all these months my uncle Will Tatum and I have been following Captain Morgan like puppy dogs, listening to him boast how he would bring us home “not hundreds but thousands.” Well, this morning he gathered his crew under three big trees and cried: “Search all!” and we stripped to nothing, and each man searched the clothing of someone else, every pocket and seam, so that coins and jewels, even the tiniest pieces of value were thrown into the common pot. The trunks of what little treasure we had carried from Panamá were unloaded so that all could see, and when every item stood before us, Captain Morgan started the division: “This to you and you, and two shares to the ship captains and four shares to me.” On he went till the last Spanish peso had been distributed, and then he did a bold thing. Throwing off all his garments but his small clothes, he cried: “Search me too!” and nothing was found secreted. “Is this all we get?” Will cried, and the disappointment in his voice encouraged Mompox and the others to cry: “Where is the wealth you promised?” until there was a general commotion which might have turned into a riot, except that Captain Morgan bellowed: “Be quiet, you sheep! We missed the big treasure at Panamá but each of you has his fair share of what we did get.” It was a pitiful eleven pounds, seven shillings each. “You’ve robbed us!” men began to shout, and if Captain Morgan had not signaled the captains to gather about him, he might have been injured.

W
ED
15 M
ARCH
:
All last night Captain Morgan slept in his tent with men guarding him, and he was wise to do so, because I for one wanted to kill him. Sailors who had sailed and fought with him for more than three years had little for their pains, and in their bitterness started rumors that he had stolen much gold and great boxes of coins, but where he had hidden them no man could say. As for me, I think he smuggled them aboard his ship that stands offshore. I told Will about this, and he said: “Let’s search it now,” but Captain Morgan’s men, well armed, kept us away from the small boats we would need to sail out to the ship.

T
HU
16 M
ARCH
:
Damn his dirty eyes, damn his fat mustaches,
damn his goatee, and damn his flowered jacket. Today, before most of us on shore were awake, Captain Henry Morgan rowed secretly to his ship, upped anchor, and slipped away from us before we could prevent him. He sneaked out with thousands or even millions of our pesos and untold quantities of gold bars which he had withheld from an honest sharing. When I shouted to Will: “There he goes!” Will ran down to the shore and screamed: “I hope your magazine explodes! I hope a great whale overturns you!” Mompox and some sailors jumped into their boats and tried to overtake him, but Captain Morgan, knowing chase was futile, stood on the stern of the vessel, laughed at them, and ordered his gunner to fire two parting salutes, which rattled the branches over our heads. In this infuriating way I finished my buccaneering duty with Captain Henry Morgan and his Letters of Marque and Reprisal.

F
RI
17 M
ARCH
:
When our furies cooled, Uncle Will collected some forty men he trusted, and reasoned: “Let’s forget this morning. We’ve been tricked by a master. I say let’s be real buccaneers. Let’s march back across the isthmus, capture a treasure ship, sack what’s left of Panamá, and return home as God allows.” Every man he approached was in a mood to try this venture, for we all knew that we had the force and courage to do as Will proposed: “Buccaneers like to have a captain they can trust, and I think we should all vote for McFee.” When we cheered the suggestion, Will and Mompox fired a salute and announced “election unanimous,” and forty-six fighting men shouted “Halloo.” Fifteen Indians, including a Meskito named David who had proved his skill at both fishing and carpentering, begged us to let them come along, as did nineteen black slaves who did not want to sail back to harsh masters in the sugar fields of Jamaica. And of course I insisted that Mompox join us. So we have a party of eighty-one, every man a killer if required.

S
AT
18 M
ARCH
:
I am writing this on the trail back to the South Sea. Never have I witnessed as much effort as I did yesterday. Some of our men collected a group of Indian canoas, long and spacious, into which we piled all the guns, pikes and powder we could gather from the ships that had chosen to return to Jamaica. And since we remembered how we had starved on the first trip, we wanted to take all the food we could, but some of the sailors who were afraid to join us tried to keep food from us, so Will shot one of them and we had no more trouble. I took from one of our ships two lengths of hollowed bamboo, sealed at the ends, in which I would keep my pens
and papers, for I wanted to keep an honest account of how we performed without Captain Morgan. On this first day we did well, coming at least fifteen English miles up the river.

T
UE
28 M
ARCH
:
We rose early, sought the Lord’s blessing on His day, and marched only a few miles, with me and Mompox in the lead, when I saw once more the immense expanse of the South Sea. How different it looked this time! When I saw it last from this hilltop we were going to sack Panamá, turn around, and go home rich men. This time we intend capturing us a ship and setting forth upon that vast ocean to seek the opposite shore, if there is one. And when I turned to look at the ruins of where Panamá City used to be, I saw two things, one promising, the other not. The Spaniards had reclustered about their cathedral, so they were conveniently gathered for plucking, and this time we plan to catch their wealth before they hide it. But anchored in the bay were some of the biggest warships I had ever seen. I began to tremble.

W
ED
5 A
PRIL
:
One of the most exciting days of my life, because I proved that I am a true buccaneer. We rose early and set forth in our eight strongest canoas to do or die in our attempt to break through the cordon of Spanish ships and capture one of the big galleons riding in the harbor. As we approached the fleet, the Spaniards thought to oppose us by throwing many of their sailors and fighting men into three small, fast vessels they call
barcas
, and these made for us as if they would devour us, which I thought they might. But as they bore down on us, Captain McFee, a true fighting man, shouted: “Let them draw nigh!” and for what I considered a most dangerous waiting period, we withheld our fire. Then, when we could see their faces plainly, we let loose a fusillade of such magnitude and careful aim that we stunned them. They did try to fire back but by now we were upon them, and with great dexterity we leaped from our canoas, boarded their
barcas
, and began fighting hand-to-hand. In the excitement of battle I forgot my fears and gave a rather good account of myself, but when only two of us tried to force five of them backward into the stern of their
barca
, they proved too much, and they might have slain me with their brutal pikes had not Mompox leaped to my defense with sword and dagger, killing one of the Spaniards and badly wounding his partner. Before the sun reached the meridian we had become masters of two of the
barcas
and had sent the third scudding back to safety in the harbor.

Our victory left us with some eighty Spanish prisoners, almost
two for every Englishman, far more than we knew what to do with. My uncle, who had conducted himself with a special bravery which gave him the right to speak, wanted to kill them all, and when Captain McFee asked why, he growled: “They’re Spaniards, aren’t they?” McFee would have none of this, so three canoas were brought alongside the
barcas
which were now ours, and into them the Spaniards were loaded. But as this was being done, my uncle and Mompox went among them, shot those that were badly wounded and tossed their bodies into the sea. The rest could row their way home.

By capturing the two
barcas
we gained an immense replenishment of cutlasses, guns, powder and balls, so that we had suddenly become not a group of Indian canoas but two small, swift men-of-war, capable, because of our superior English fighting ability, of menacing even the biggest galleons could we get close to them. And I too was changed, because I now knew that I was capable of leaping out of my boat onto the deck of a larger ship and sweeping the deck of Spaniards. I think my companions gained the same assurance, for in this battle we forty-six defeated four times that number, with only two killed and three seriously wounded. Our dead Indians and blacks who had helped us we did not count.

Captain McFee replenished our losses in a curious manner, for as we were preparing to send our prisoners ashore, he stood by the railing of the
barca
into which I had leaped for the battle and there he peered into the faces of all the Spaniards, and by this device alone, selected five that seemed most intelligent and strong and held them back. Since he does not speak Spanish, it fell to me to serve as translator, and I learned several valuable facts. The richly laden galleon which comes across the Pacific from Manila never puts in to Panamá. It goes only to Acapulco. The galleon that fled Panamá during Morgan’s raid on the city stayed at sea until we were gone and then came back, so that a huge treasure is now ashore, awaiting us if we can get there. And the galleon that brings the silver from Peru has not yet arrived, but when it does, it will be attended by numerous fighting ships. With that intelligence I go to sleep tonight in a new ship, a new hammock, and inspired by new dreams.

F
RI
7 A
PRIL
: One of the most disappointing days of my life. We have tried in vain to penetrate the defenses of Panamá, lured passionately by the knowledge that the great treasure Morgan missed awaits us. I would like to meet the scoundrel who started the rumor that Spaniards are cowards. Not when they have treasure to defend.
We tried every way to best them and failed. At sea they fended us off with a battery of great guns and by land they overwhelmed us with numbers. I felt we were no more than a flight of pestiferous gnats trying to attack a lion, for no matter where we headed we got slapped. At sea we lost two Englishmen killed by gunfire, on land two more, so that our original forty-six are now no more than forty, and I see that buccaneering can be triumphant when things go well, perilous when they don’t. Beaten and bested, we are heading home, but whether by Cape Horn or Good Hope, we have not yet decided. At Panamá the Spanish were too much for us.

M
ON
10 A
PRIL
:
Day of glory, day of mystery! Yesterday when we stood at 6° 40′ North of the equator by my reckoning on the crude forestaff we have with us, our lookout shouted: “Lima galleon two points east of south!” and when all in my
barca
crowded forward, we saw the most gallant sight our eyes have ever beheld, a small, trim Spanish galleon, aft tower riding high in the air, gilded ornaments glistening in the morning sunlight. It rolled majestically, like some enormously wealthy grandee out for a morning stroll, now to port, then gently to starboard, and at each roll proclaiming: “Gaze upon me, heavy with treasure.”

The sight of this galleon so inflamed our hunger that as we closed upon her, there was no man amongst us who was not prepared to capture her or die in the attempt. Captain McFee, drawing our two
barcas
together, addressed us: “This is the target we dreamed of. We shall go at her from their port side, midships. Our best men will scale her with pistol and cutlass, no quarter. Our slaves we leave tied up in our
barcas
under guard. All men on the boarding party follow me, for I shall lead.”

These were stern orders, and all of us who heard knew that on this day we proved our worth or went to perpetual sleep at the bottom of the sea. I was not frightened at the prospect, but my breath came uneasy and my mouth was very dry. My uncle, who rode with me, said only: “Well, lad, this is what you came seeking. There she rides.” And when I looked at that huge Spanish ship towering above us, I must confess that I wondered to myself: Can she be taken by forty men? But as immediately as the thought came, I corrected it: By forty Englishmen? And I answered myself in words shouted aloud to sustain my bravery: “Yes, by St. George and England, we can do it!” and men about me took up the cry: “George and England!” and even though our captain was a Scot, he joined us in the shouting.

The Spanish captain, seeing us coming and well aware that this would be a fight to the finish, adopted the same tactics as the galleons had done at Panamá. He launched three
barcas
, each larger than ours, in an attempt to keep us away from his sides. When the vessels approached us, we tore into them as if they were sheep sent out to pasture and we ravenous lions.

“Leave them drown!” my uncle shouted as the Spanish
barcas
foundered, throwing their sailors into the water, and then occurred one of those vast mysteries of fate, for as we regrouped and sped toward the galleon, whose officers must have been terrified to see how quickly we disposed of their first line of defense, a stupendous fire swept the deck above us. Some careless act aboard the galleon must have thrown a fire of some kind into a barrel of powder, killing far more Spaniards than we did when we climbed up to take command.

Once in control, my uncle and I rampaged through the lower decks, finally locating the huge stores of silver, each bar marked with its Potosí number, and we realized that we had taken a prize of immeasurable value. Will cried in joy: “No division this time of eleven pounds each!” And we knew, there in the dark hold, that we would be wealthy men if we could but sail this great ship back to Port Royal in Jamaica.

While we were in the bowels of the galleon we heard a confused shouting on deck, and fearing that a sortie of armed Spaniards might have hidden against the moment they could spring out upon us and retake their ship, we rushed aloft, our faces grimed from the hold, our guns and swords at the ready. Instead, I found myself standing face-to-face with the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. She was, I judged, about seventeen, fair of skin as if the sun had never touched her pretty face, dressed in fine fabrics more suited to a ball than to a galleon, with perfect figure, dark hair and eyes of an exquisite quality that danced with excitement, even in these uncertain surroundings.