As Tortuga sank low upon the horizon astern and faded into a soft gray cloud, the lofty mountains about Cape Maysi, Cuba, showed dimly above the sea over our starboard bow, with the mighty bulk of the towering Sierra Maestra of the Pearl of the Antilles faintly outlined, somber, forbidding, in countless peaks against the sky. Then ahead loomed the lonely isle of Navassa, with Haiti’s mountain ranges to the east, and through the Windward Passage the Vigilant swept on.
Navassa, a barren mass of rock fringed with surf beating upon its jagged ledges and wave-carved cliffs, rising in odd terraces from the angry sea to the dull-green summit whereon stands a solitary lighthouse, may hold pirates’ treasure as the Haitians assert, but if it does, that is the only worthwhile [[244]]thing upon the isle. At all events, if the buccaneers hid treasure here they must have chosen their time in good weather, carried their chests ashore in small boats, and hoisted them upon the forbidding rock by tackle, for there is no natural landing-place, and owing to the swift tides and currents there is no sheltered lee under the shore. Everywhere the rocks rise directly from the waves, and the construction of the lighthouse, radio station, and other buildings proved a colossal task owing to the extreme difficulty of getting material ashore. But Navassa can lay claim to one unique distinction, inasmuch as it is the only island which ever sent an S. O. S. call speeding through the ether.
This happened when the first occupants of the station found themselves on the verge of starvation and almost dying of thirst, the steamer with supplies having failed to arrive. But the “Sparks” in charge was a resourceful chap, and he sent broadcast his plea for help exactly as though Navassa were a derelict ship, and thus brought succor to himself and comrades.
We sped past Navassa, giving it a wide berth, and the only signs of life we saw were the countless thousands of boobies, frigate-birds, and pelicans that make this isolated spot their home. Behind [[245]]us stretched vast Gonaives Bay, with the island of Gonaives looking like a continent itself, though a mere dot on the map compared with Santo Domingo.
No doubt in the good old days Gonaives was a stamping-ground for the buccaneers, although there is little mention of it in either history or the chronicles of the freebooters. Across the way in Cuba, too, the Spaniards more than once felt the hand of these sea-rovers, and many a Cuban town was sacked and pillaged, notably Puerto Principe (now known as Camaguey), originally built on the northern coast of the island. Indeed, it was the frequency of pirates’ attacks on the town that induced the inhabitants to move inland. But this failed to save them, and Morgan took the inland “port” and burned and slew and robbed.
It was this exploit of Morgan’s which first stamped him as a pirate of prowess. It was his first noteworthy enterprise, and paved the way for all his other famous deeds, or misdeeds. His original intention was to attack Havana, but he was evidently unable to resist Puerto Principe with all its riches—which proved a most unprofitable venture.
The Isle of Pines, now almost exclusively an American settlement, also was once a favorite resort [[246]]of the buccaneers. Though it was Spanish territory and a dependency of Cuba, yet the few Spaniards who dwelt upon it were friends of the pirates,—an exceptional circumstance,—and gladly welcomed them. But it was merely used as a stopping-place whereon to secure fruits, vegetables, and sea-turtles, being far too near Spanish strongholds to be permanent. The most interesting thing about it which the buccaneers’ chroniclers recorded was the fact that it was infested by huge crocodiles or alligators which, to quote Esquemelling, were “of a corpulency very horrible to the sight” and did not hesitate to attack men. Indeed, he states with all seriousness that the giant reptiles actually attempted to climb up the ship’s gangway and invade the vessel.
But we could stop neither at Cuba, Gonaives, the Isle of Pines, nor Haiti, and ere nightfall only the heaving sea stretched to the horizon on every hand, and into the golden west the Vigilant bore onward, bound for Jamaica. It was with no little regret that I looked forward to seeing Jamaica, despite its interest and associations with the buccaneers, for it was at this island that I was to part company with the Vigilant and my crew and continue on the last lap of the journey by prosaic steamship.
What a wondrous procession of ships and hardy [[247]]adventurers had passed this way through centuries past, I thought, as the schooner glided through the gleaming phosphorescent water. Westward from his new-found isles and Cuba, which he thought a continent, had sailed Columbus in his caravels. Across this same sea had come the pennant-bedecked ships of Balboa, Pedrarias, and those countless other adventurers who carved a new world for Spain out of the jungles and mountains of Central and South America. Through these same waves had wallowed the battle-scarred Golden Hind and her fellow ships, with Drake and Hawkins fresh from the conquest of impregnable Porto Bello. Back and forth across this vast blue waste had sailed stately galleons laden with riches, with gilded towering poops gleaming in the sun, scarlet and yellow banners outflung to the breeze, mail-clad grandees and black-robed friars pacing the decks. And swift in their wake had come the dingy, menacing ships of the buccaneers. What scenes of battle and bloodshed had taken place on this tranquil sea beneath the brilliant tropic stars! What shrieks of agony and deadly fear had rung out upon the night; what awful tragedies had the serene moon looked down upon; and what countless rotting hulks and bleaching bones might still lie upon the ocean’s floor countless fathoms under the [[248]]Vigilant’s keel! Treasure, too, might be there—plate and bullion, precious stones and pearls, which had gone down with the sinking galleons ere the pirates had time to complete their pillage. There, deep in the ooze or on the hard shell sand, they would lie forever: dull, corroded ingots of silver, bars of gold, priceless gems, doubloons and onzas and pieces of eight that men had slaved and murdered and tortured and fought for, then had lost to the world forever.
And speaking of treasure, of pieces of eight, of doubloons, and of onzas,—terms which occur so persistently in every tale or song or history of buccaneer days,—a word or two regarding these coins may not come amiss.