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CHAPTER VIII
The Portuguese Barthelemy
Commencement of his Career. – Bold Capture. – Brutality of the Pirates. – Reverses and Captivity. – Barthelemy doomed to Die. – His Escape. – Sufferings in the Forest. – Reaches Gulf Triste. – Hardening Effect of his Misfortunes. – His new Piratic Enterprize. – Wonderful Success. – The Tornado. – Impoverishment and Ruin.
One of the most bold and renowned of the buccaneers was a Portuguese, by the name of Barthelemy. He was a man of some property, and followed the great tide of emigration to the West Indies. At Kingston, Jamaica, he heard of the great fortunes which were made by buccaneers preying upon Spanish commerce. Engaging in several expeditions, he became quite rich. Finally he fitted out a small vessel, at his own expense, which he armed with four three-pounders, and a crew of thirty desperate men, armed with muskets, pistols, and sabres. This sloop was fitted out in a British port, to rob the ships of Spain, just as openly as if it were bound upon a fishing excursion.
He commenced his cruise upon the southern coast of Cuba. But a few days passed ere he caught sight of a large ship, richly laden and well armed, bound from the Spanish colonies in Venezuela to Havana. It had, as he afterward found, a crew of seventy men, with about the same number of passengers and marines, and carried twenty guns.
When Barthelemy’s crew saw the size of the ship and the indications of her strong armament, they hesitated to venture upon an attack. All were assembled around the mast to discuss the question. The general voice was discouraging. Barthelemy’s speech was short and decisive. He was a man of few words and prompt action.
“We came out,” said he, “for prizes. Here is a splendid one. The opportunity must not be lost. Nothing great can be accomplished without risk.”
They gave chase. The ship quietly awaited their approach; “as much astonished at the attack,” writes Thornbury, “as a swallow would be if it were pursued by a gnat.” The pirates made a desperate endeavor to board the ship. We are not informed of the particulars of the fight. The result only is known. After several repulses, and a long and bloody conflict, the pirates raised shouts of victory on the blood-stained deck of their prize. Ten of them were killed; four wounded. All on board the ship but forty were killed. Many of these were severely maimed with bullet wounds and sword-cuts.
The pirates, having searched the pockets of the dead for their loose doubloons, threw the bodies overboard. Those helplessly wounded suffered the same fate. The survivors, after being stripped of everything valuable, were placed in a boat and cut adrift, to fare as they might. The prize proved to be worth between eighty and a hundred thousand dollars. Barthelemy found himself in command of a truly splendid ship, well armed, and well stored with ammunition and provisions. He had also his little sloop as a tender. Though he had a crew of but twenty men, he could at any time double or treble his number in the thronged ports of Kingston or Tortuga. As he was sailing around the western end of the Island of Cuba, he came unexpectedly upon three large ships bound to Havana. The pirate ship was heavily laden and ploughed the waves slowly. The Spanish ships gave chase; captured the buccaneers; stripped them; drove them with sabre-strokes under the hatches, and left them there to meditate upon the reverses of fortune and their own approaching ignominious death by hanging.
The notoriety of Barthelemy, as one of the most terrible of human monsters, had spread far and wide. He concealed his name, and his captors were not aware what a prize they had taken. The ship, containing the crew of pirates, was separated from the rest by a storm. She took refuge at Campeachy, on the western coast of the immense peninsula of Yucatan. Crowds flocked on board to see the pirates in irons. Among them came one who, in former years, had well known Barthelemy. Lifting up his hands in astonishment, he proclaimed in presence of the multitude:
“This is Barthelemy the Portuguese. He is the most wicked rascal in the world. He has done more harm to Spanish commerce than all the other pirates put together.”
The glad news spread through the town. There were joyful assemblages in the streets. All hearts were glowing with the desire to take vengeance on the man who had put so many Spaniards to death. The people appealed to the governor to demand the pirate in the name of the king. He was arrested, more heavily ironed, and placed on board another vessel. A gibbet was erected upon which to hang him. The governor did not deem any trial necessary. From his cabin window Barthelemy could see the workmen building the gallows, upon which he was to be hung in chains, there to swing, in sunshine and storm, till the action of the elements should dissolve both skin and bones.
The wretch had a strange power of winning friends. The captain by whom he was captured wished to save him. Some one secretly conveyed to him a file. He soon freed himself from his irons. There were in his cabin two large earthern jars, empty and very buoyant. Carefully he closed the orifices; bound them loosely together by a strong cord; lowered them cautiously into the water, when midnight darkness covered the sea. A sentry was placed at the door of the cabin. He had fallen asleep. Fearful that he might awake and give the alarm, the pirate stealthily approached him with a huge knife in his hand. By a well-directed blow the glittering blade pierced his heart, and the sentinel died without a struggle or a groan.
The pirate noiselessly dropped himself down into the water. Grasping, with one hand, the strong cord attached to the two jars, with the other he slowly paddled himself to the shore. The current floated him to the very spot where the gibbet was erected. There it stood, in its awful gloom, with the hangman’s chain dangling from its timbers. Even the iron-hearted Barthelemy shuddered, as at midnight’s dismal hour, he contemplated the doom from which he was endeavoring to escape.
He took to the woods. But few of our readers can imagine the entanglements of the tropical forest through which he struggled. Conscious that blood-hounds might be put upon his track, he sought a running stream, and waded along for a great distance in the darkness. He was torn cruelly by overhanging thorns, and bruised as he stumbled over rocks and stones. As the morning dawned he hid himself in a pile of brush, half covered with water.
The windings of the stream were such that he had advanced but a short distance from the town. The tidings of his escape roused the whole population. It was known that he could not have forced his way far through the entanglement of briers and thorns and interlacing vines, in the few hours between midnight and the dawn. The whole forest seemed alive with his pursuers. A thousand slaves were shouting in their barbarian eagerness. Packs of blood-hounds were rushing to and fro, smelling at every track, and making the forest resound with their deep-mouthed bayings. The alarm-bells of the city were rolling forth their loud and solemn peals. Bands of Spanish cavaliers, with indignation in their hearts and oaths upon their lips, passed within sight of the hiding wretch; and he heard their vows of vengeance. Thus passed the wretched day. “The way of the transgressor is indeed hard.”
Barthelemy, bleeding, exhausted, starving and tormented with the bite of insects, endured these long hours of mental and bodily torture, until night again darkened the scene. With the darkness he resumed his terrified flight, he scarcely knew where. His general plan was to reach some distant seaport in disguise, where he hoped to effect his escape as a sailor. Every hour he trembled in danger of being caught, and his only food was roots and berries, and the raw shell-fish he scraped from the rocks.
He forded streams where he was in imminent danger of being snapped up by the jaws of crocodiles. He waded through swamps, and narrowly escaped being suffocated in the mire. His shoes were torn from his feet, his clothes from his limbs. For fourteen days and nights he endured these tortures. His only guide was the roar of the ocean. He was travelling in a southwesterly direction. It was his constant endeavor to keep the ocean within hearing distance on his right.
There is manifestly no tendency in misery to make men better. The pirate, with all his woes, grew more obdurate and more cruel. “In these fourteen days,” writes one of his biographers, “he must have literally tasted death and anticipated the horrors of hell.” But this almost demoniac wretchedness led him to no prayers of penitence, and to no promises of amendment. They served only to whet his appetite for revenge.
At length he reached a large ocean bay, about one hundred and twenty miles from Campeachy, appropriately called Gulf Triste. Here, to his immense relief, he found a large ship of buccaneers riding at anchor. He signalled the ship, and a boat was sent to take him on board. With feigned glee the wretch told the story of his adventures. Not a word of penitence was uttered. There was not the slightest recognition that the punishment he had received was merited. On the contrary, he said to the pirates:
“I know of a ship at Campeachy, which is richly laden, and but feebly armed. It can be captured with all ease. Furnish me with a boat and thirty good men, and in a few days I will bring the ship and all its cargo to you.”
His request was granted. The boat was equipped, and he sailed along the coast, assuming that he was a smuggler, with contraband goods. In eight days he reached Campeachy. As the boat entered the harbor, the piratic character of the craft was so concealed that no suspicions were excited. At midnight the pirates cautiously approached the doomed vessel. As the crew supposed themselves safe in the harbor, there was but one sentry pacing the deck. He hailed the boat. Barthelemy, who spoke Spanish perfectly, stood upon the bows, and replied:
“We are a part of the crew. We have a boatload of goods from the land for the vessel, upon which no duty has been paid.”
At that moment the bows of the boat touched the ship. Barthelemy and his crew leaped on board, drawn cutlass in hand. One plunge of a sabre pierced the heart of the sentinel, and he fell dead. A few others who chanced to be on deck were driven below, and the hatches were closed upon them. Scarcely five minutes elapsed ere the thirty pirates, all veteran sailors, were in perfect command of the ship, and all the officers and crew were firmly barricaded, as prisoners, beneath the deck. No noise had been made. No alarm was given to other ships in the harbor. They raised the anchors, spread the sails, and put out to sea.
Thus suddenly the wheel of fortune turned. The trembling fugitive, in danger of the gallows, in rags and starvation, wandering through the wilderness, but a few days before, now found himself treading the deck of one of the finest of Spanish ships, well provisioned, well armed, and with a rich cargo stored in her hold. He was the captain and mostly the owner of the majestic craft. His dictatorial power was recognized by thirty desperate men, ready implicitly to obey his will. The commerce of all seas was apparently within the reach of his piratical grasp.
The imprisoned crew were disposed of as these pirates usually got rid of those who were a trouble to them. They were either crowded into a boat and cut adrift, or landed upon the nearest shore, or thrown into the sea. Familiarity with misery and death rendered the pirates as insensible to human suffering as the fisherman becomes to the struggles of the fish in the bottom of his boat.
Barthelemy, instead of returning with his prize to his comrades in Gulf Triste, spread his sails for Jamaica. He was greatly elated, and boasted loudly of the still greater enterprises which he was about to undertake. With his suddenly found wealth he would create a fleet; he would have crews of five hundred men at his command; his blood-red flag should sweep all seas; he would collect an army and ravage provinces; he would seize some large island, of which he would be the monarch, with his fleets and his armies. Thus the Portuguese pirate dreamed. He did not take God into the account. God had decided otherwise.
It was a beautiful morning, as Barthelemy paced the deck, lost in these ambitious imaginings. The sky was cloudless. A fresh breeze swelled the sails, and delightfully tempered the heat of a tropical sun.
A few leagues south of the Island of Cuba is the majestic Isle of Pines. Large as it is, its prominence is lost in the overpowering grandeur of its sister island. The ship was running along its southern coast.
A small cloud was seen in the southwestern horizon. Rapidly it increased in size and blackness. It was a tropical tornado. Already its roar could be heard as it ploughed and lashed the seas. The terrible gale struck the ship and whirled it along as though it had been a bubble. God was there, in his sore displeasure. What could man do? Nothing. The pirates threw themselves upon their knees, and called upon the Virgin and all the saints to come and help them. But neither Virgin nor saint came.
The ship struck the rocks – was dashed to pieces; the silver, the gold, the cargo, everything disappeared before those terrific blasts. Many were drowned. Barthelemy and a few of the crew were swept ashore by the mountain billows. Their clothes were torn from their backs. Their bodies were sorely bruised, and some of their bones broken, by being dashed against the rocks. Exhausted, panting, maimed, and half dead, Barthelemy found himself utterly beggared upon a lonely isle. This was the work of one short half-hour. This was the disposal God made of the pirates’ stolen spoil.
A wretched, starving straggler, Barthelemy found his way to Jamaica. Here he enlisted as a common sailor on board a pirate ship, and we hear of him no more. Without doubt, he came to a miserable end; and his body was probably thrown into the sea as food for sharks.
CHAPTER IX
Francis Lolonois
Early Life of Lolonois. – His Desperate Character. – Joins the Buccaneers. – His Fiend-like Cruelty. – The Desperadoes Rally around Him. – Equips a Fleet. – Captures Rich Prizes. – Plans the Sack of Maracaibo. – The Adventurous Voyage. – Description of Venezuela. – Atrocities at Maracaibo and Gibraltar. – Doom of the Victors.
One of the most demoniac of those pirates who were ravaging sea and land, calling themselves buccaneers, and assuming that they were conducting a sort of legitimate warfare on their own private account, was a bold wretch by the name of Francis Lolonois. He was a Frenchman. When quite a young man, he, with other adventurers, went to the West Indies, paying for his passage, in accordance with a custom of the times, by being sold as a servant for a certain term.
Having obtained his freedom, he went to the Island of St. Domingo. Here he lived a vagabond life, sometimes hunting, and again engaged as a common sailor in the commerce of the islands. He soon acquired the reputation of being a reckless desperate fellow, and attracted the attention of the piratic governor of the piratic rendezvous, at the Island of Tortugas. He was intrusted with the command of a small vessel, to prey upon Spanish commerce. His success was extraordinary. He became rich. So terrible were his cruelties, that his fame extended through both of the Indies. Death was the doom of his captives; often death by torture.
He had all his wealth, gold, jewels, and goods in a great ship, armed with heavy guns. It was wrecked on the coast of Campeachy. The crew barely escaped with their lives. The angry waves dashed to pieces and swallowed up the ill-gotten gains of the pirate. The enraged Spaniards, overjoyed at the wreck, pursued those who had escaped to the dry land, and shot most of them down, mercilessly. Lolonois, disguised as a common sailor, was severely wounded. He smeared himself with blood, and feigned death. Being left on the field unburied, when the Spaniards left, he crept into the woods. It was universally believed that he was dead. The removal of such a wretch from the world was a matter of almost national rejoicing. Bonfires blazed. Cannon were fired. The undevout drank, and swore in their carousal. The devout repaired to the churches, and thanked God that the world was delivered from so cruel a pirate.
Lolonois, slowly recovering from his wounds, disguised in a Spanish habit, entered Campeachy. He made friends with a few slaves, stole a small boat, and, as his piratic biographer has it, “came to Tortugas, the common place of refuge of all sorts of wickedness, and the seminary, as it were, of all manner of pirates and thieves.”
His reputation as a successful pirate was such, that he speedily obtained command of another vessel, manned by a crew of twenty-one desperadoes. On the south side of the Island of Cuba, there was a flourishing little village called Cayos. The inhabitants carried on an active trade in tobacco, sugar and hides. Their harbor had not sufficient depth of water for large vessels. The traffic was in boats. Lolonois decided to sack the place.
It was not far across the island to Havana. Some fishermen informed the inhabitants of the approach of the pirate. In terror they sent to Havana for aid. The governor instantly dispatched a war-ship, of ten guns and seventy-five men, for their relief. The governor, astonished that Lolonois had again come to life, issued written orders, as follows:
“You are not to return until you have utterly destroyed all those pirates. Every one is to be immediately hung, excepting Lolonois, their captain. If possible, you are to bring him alive to Havana.”
The ship arrived at Cayos before the pirates had made their attack. They cast anchor just outside the harbor. The pirates, through their confederates, had been informed of their approach. They captured two fishing boats. In the darkness of the ensuing night, they ran these boats, one on each side of the ship, and with sword and pistol leaped on board. The attack was so sudden, so entirely unprovided for, that the few of the crew who were on deck were speedily struck down or driven below.
Lolonois was in command of the ship, with all his prisoners beneath the hatches. One by one they were brought up, and their heads cut off. Not one was spared. The dismembered bodies were cast into the sea. The bloody decks were washed. The pirate, proud of his achievement, and admired by his men, strode to and fro, the proprietor of a strong, well-armed ship, amply provided with everything he could need to aid him in his career of rapine and blood. He wrote a letter to the governor, and sent it to him by one of his captive fishermen. It was as follows:
“I shall never, hereafter, give quarter to any Spaniard. I have great hopes that I shall yet have the pleasure of exercising upon your own person, the punishment I have now inflicted upon those you have sent against me. It is thus that I requite the kindness, which you designed for me and my companions.”
The governor was greatly troubled and perplexed by these tidings. In his anger he took a solemn oath that he would never hereafter grant quarter to any buccaneer who should fall into his hands. But the citizens of Havana implored him not to persist in the execution of this oath. They sent a delegation to him to say:
“If this threat is followed out, the pirates will certainly do the same. They have a hundred times more opportunity of revenge than the governor can have. We must get our living by fishery. Hereafter, if this threat is executed, we shall always be at the peril of our lives.”
Lolonois cruised for some time among the islands, without success. He then directed his course south toward Maracaibo, an important port in the extreme north of the South American continent. After a run of six or eight hundred miles, he reached the entrance of the vast bay which leads up to the city. Here he captured an outward-bound ship, richly laden with plate and silver from the mines.
What he did with the crew we know not. They vanished. They were probably all thrown into the sea. With ship and cargo he returned to Tortugas, where he was received with public rejoicing. Though now rich enough to live at his ease, his ambition was roused to attain still greater renown. Publicly he proclaimed to all the pirates on the island, that he was about to fit out a fleet sufficient to carry five hundred men. With these he would sail to the Spanish dominions in South America, and sack all the cities, towns, and villages along the coast. He would then capture Maracaibo itself.
All the desperadoes were eager to engage in the service of so brave and successful a leader. His fleet was soon equipped, and his gang engaged. There was a celebrated buccaneer at Tortugas, by the name of Michael Basco. He had become very rich, and filled an important governmental office. The proclamation of Lolonois fired anew his piratic zeal. He had in former years ravaged all those regions by sea and by land. He proposed to Lolonois to become a partner in his enterprise, if he could be placed in command over the land forces. The articles of agreement were soon signed. Eight vessels sailed. The crews amounted to six hundred and seventy-five men. First they directed their course to St. Domingo, and cast anchor in a little harbor called Bayala. Here they laid in stores for their voyage, and added to their crews quite a number of vagabond Frenchmen.
On the last day of July they again spread their sails. Whether they implored the Divine blessing upon their enterprise we know not. It is not improbable. One of these pirates ran his sword through one of the crew for behaving irreverently in church.
“How can we expect,” he said indignantly, “the blessing of the Virgin, if we behave in an unseemly way in her presence?”
Lolonois was admiral of the fleet. He occupied the largest ship, which mounted ten guns. They ran along the northern shore of St. Domingo, and just as they were doubling its most eastern cape, they came in sight of a large, heavily laden Spanish merchantman, bound from Spain to her colonies. But a few leagues beyond them, on the south-east side of St. Domingo, was the Island of Savona. Lolonois ordered the fleet to make a harbor there, and wait for him. He then sailed to capture the Spanish galleon.
Unexpected resistance was encountered. The Spaniards knew that they had no mercy to expect from Lolonois. They fought with desperation, preferring to die in the fierce battle, rather than be massacred by the pirates. The conflict lasted three hours. The ship was captured, and the survivors put to the sword.
Lolonois was delighted on finding the prize much richer than he had anticipated. The ship was one of the strongest and best built of Spanish vessels, and mounted sixteen guns. There were fifty men on board, some doubtless passengers. But they were no match for the reckless pirates, who were veterans in such warfare. The ship, in addition to a very rich cargo, had forty thousand dollars in coin, and ten thousand more in jewels.
Lolonois sent the ship back to Tortugas to be unloaded, and then immediately to rejoin him at Savona, to accompany the expedition. In the mean time another large ship was captured, which was bound to Hispaniola with military supplies and a sum of money to pay the garrison. The ship mounted eight guns. Being entirely surrounded by the hostile fleet, the captain surrendered without resistance.
The passengers and crew were disposed of after the pirates’ usual fashion. This important capture contained seven thousand pounds of powder, a large number of muskets and other small arms, and twelve thousand dollars in specie. The governor of Tortugas, a Frenchman, ordered the cargo to be removed as quickly as possible from the ship, and placing on board fresh provisions and a reënforcement of pirates, to make good the loss of those who had fallen in battle or by sickness, sent it back to Savona.
Lolonois made this his flagship, as the largest and best of the fleet. The city of Maracaibo was situated on an island, in the lake of the same name, and at the head of the Bay of Venezuela. The island was about sixty miles long by thirty-six broad. The passage to the city was by a narrow channel which was guarded by a fort. The city contained a mixed population of about four thousand, and carried on a thriving trade in hides and tobacco. The dwellings were delightfully situated, on an eminence running along the western shore of the lake, and commanding a charming view of land and water scenery. There was a large stone church in the place, four capacious monasteries, and a hospital. A deputy governor, subject to the governor at Caraccas, administered alike both civil and military affairs.
The inhabitants of the province were rich in cattle. Immense herds grazed over the luxuriant pastures, extending nearly one hundred miles around. The cattle were kept mainly for their hides, which ever commanded a ready market. Oranges, lemons, bananas, and other tropical fruits were also very abundant. The harbor was spacious and secure, with the very best of timber at hand. There were many fierce Indians in the morasses and thickets around. They were comparatively powerless, though occasionally committing wolfish depredations.
About one hundred and twenty miles beyond Maracaibo, farther up the lake, there was another quite important colonial Spanish town, called Gibraltar. It had a population of about fifteen hundred. These were nearly all engaged in trade, purchasing the products of the country and sending them to other markets. On the plantations around, large quantities of sugar were made. Also immense stores of cacao, from which our word cocoa is derived, were gathered. This was the flat oblong seed of the chocolate-tree, which was one of the most important articles of commerce. They also raised a very superior kind of tobacco, which was in great demand in Europe, called priests’ tobacco.
Still farther south, over a high ridge of mountains, there was another settlement called Merida. The summits of these mountains reached the region of intense cold, and were covered with perpetual snow. There were a few narrow passes through this craggy barrier, which could be traversed only by the sure-footed mule.
As soon as Lolonois entered the Gulf of Venezuela, he crept cautiously along its shores, and cast anchor behind a wooded promontory, where he was concealed from all observation. In the early dawn of the next morning he again unfurled his sails, and, with a fair wind, swept rapidly toward the Lake of Maracaibo. Secretly all the men were landed. They marched to attack, on the land side, the fort, about four or five leagues from the city, which guarded the entrance to the harbor. The defences here consisted only of stout wicker baskets, about seven feet high, filled with earth and stones. Within the fort there were sixteen heavy guns.
Notwithstanding all their precautions to attack the fort by surprise, eagle eyes had detected their approach, and had given the alarm. The commandant sent out a party of men to place themselves in ambuscade, on the only route by which the pirates could approach the fort. They were to wait until the pirates had passed that point, then, at a given signal, when the governor attacked them in front, from behind his rampart, they were to fall fiercely upon the rear of the foe.
Lolonois was a demon, with a demon’s ability. He discovered the stratagem; crept around the ambuscade; attacked the detachment in its rear, and cut nearly every man to pieces. He then marched upon the fort. The Spaniards were not cowards. For three hours the battle raged, with equal desperation on either side. The reverberation of the artillery explosions alarmed the whole city. The tidings ran through the streets, exaggerated of course:
“The pirates, two thousand strong, are marching upon us.”
Their atrocities were well known. The whole community fled, seizing such articles of value as they could – some in boats, some on land. Men, fainting women, and crying babes, they pressed along, in a tumultuous mass, to seek refuge in Gibraltar.
The fort was taken. Nearly all its defenders lay silent in death. The ships, having nothing more to fear, spread their sails and entered the harbor. The pirates demolished the fort, burst all the cannon they could, and spiked the rest. Lolonois practised his accustomed caution. All the adjacent thickets were swept with grape-shot. Under the protection of his guns, the boats, crowded with armed men, approached the shore. One-half landed. The others remained in the boats with guns in their hands, sabres at their sides, and pistols in their belts, to act as reserves.
To their assault there was no response. Not a human being was to be seen. The town was utterly abandoned. They found provisions in great abundance, with large quantities of wine and other intoxicating liquors. These fiend-like men then commenced a scene of feasting, which continued for several days. Their hideous orgies cannot be described. Probably they experienced something of what they called joy, in these revels. But they were only such joys as demons have. Milton describes Satan, exulting over some of his plots, as “grinning horribly a ghastly smile.”
At length, satiated with their unrestrained excesses, they turned their attention to the collection of plunder. It will be remembered that it was a hundred and twenty miles to Gibraltar. There were aged men, feeble women, the sick, and newly born babes in the place. It was evident that many of these could not have escaped far, and that they must be concealed in the woods around. Neither could it be doubted that much treasure, which could not be transported to a distance, had been buried.
Gangs of armed men, amounting in all to over two hundred, were sent to explore the woods. They went out every morning, for several days, and returned at night. The first night they brought in twenty thousand dollars in coin, eight mule-loads of goods, and twenty prisoners, men, women, and children. Lolonois put several of these to the rack, to compel them to reveal where other people were concealed, and where other treasures were buried. The fiend tortured little children, before the eyes of their parents, to extort confession.
