In the wake of the buccaneers

by A. Hyatt Verrill

Ruins left from Morgan’s raid, Old Panama

PANAMA

Ruins of the governor’s house, Old Panama

Some of the churches of which the pirate historian wrote are still to be seen, though mostly in ruins, for in the fire which swept the city in 1756 many of them were destroyed, and few were rebuilt. [[337]]Santa Maria, the “chief” one mentioned by Ringrose, has been superseded by the cathedral with its pearl-shell-studded towers. San Francisco, on Bolivar Plaza, has been modernized, externally at least, until it is no longer recognizable, although its massive iron-studded portals with their gigantic knockers a dozen feet above the street are still there. Las Mercedes, at Avenida Central and occupying the block from Eighth to Ninth Street, and Santa Ana on Santa Ana Plaza have been kept in repair and remodeled. San Domingo, on Avenue A at Third Street, with its celebrated flat arch, is scarcely more than a ruin, and crumbling walls and falling masonry mark many another, while San Felipe de Neri, at Avenue B and Fourth Street, remains as it was in Ringrose’s day. Doubtless the chronicler often looked upon its great walls, with stagings and ladders against them, and artisans at work, for San Felipe was being built at the time of the buccaneers’ visit and was completed in 1688.

These old churches are very interesting, even those in ruins; veritable architectural curiosities, marvelous in their construction, for they were built of the wreckage salvaged from the ruins of Old Panama. Brick, cut stone, rubble, bits of ornately carved stone, odds and ends—a hodgepodge of [[338]]material forms their walls, and often, amid the crumbling heterogeneous masonry, one may see some beautifully decorated niche with its carven saint still intact and with its paint-work and colored plaster as fresh and bright as though the rains and storms of centuries had not beaten upon it.

But the most interesting church of all, the most interesting spot in the whole of Panama City, is modest little San José at Eighth Street and Avenue A, a plain white building, bare-walled and unimpressive externally, but containing within the most gloriously dazzling sight in all the republic—the golden altar of San José, whose history reads like a romance and links the time of Morgan with the present. When the pirates took old San Lorenzo, at the mouth of the Chagres, and word was carried to Panama that the dreaded freebooters were on Panamanian soil and making for the city, the terrified inhabitants rushed madly to secrete and safeguard what treasures they possessed. The churches were filled with a wealth of gold and silver vessels, jeweled chalices and crucifixes, vestments heavy with gems and gold: and in San José, richest of all the houses of God in the treasure-filled town, was the famous, priceless altar of solid gold. Formed from the tithe of all gold that came to Panama which was paid the church, this marvelous [[339]]structure was of plates of beaten metal beautifully chased, delicately fashioned—a masterpiece of art worth a fabulous sum for the metal alone.

Hastily the priests and monks gathered together their treasures, and the Fathers of San José dismantled their altar and, stripping their church, loaded their precious cargo on a waiting ship and put to sea, along with many another craft bearing wealth untold. When the pirates arrived, they found little in the way of ecclesiastical riches, and ships were seized and sent in chase of the vessels, for by means of torture Morgan had learned of their departure. But, though some were overhauled and their treasures looted, the craft bearing the golden altar of San José was never found.

Many of the ships that fled from the threatened city were never heard from; no one knows their fate. Some no doubt were wrecked on uninhabited parts of the coast, as befell on the shores of Darien. On others, perchance, the crews mutinied and, killing their officers, made off with the cargo, while rumor has it that much of the salvaged treasure was buried on outlying islets and cays to keep it secure from future pirate raids. But at any rate, chaos reigned after the destruction of the city, and when the Spaniards moved from the scene of slaughter and pillage and founded the new town [[340]]the priests of San José built themselves a church on Avenue A, a severely plain little building close to the city walls and near that creek that Ringrose mentions. And within their church, in place of the wondrous thing of gleaming gold, the priests erected an insignificant white altar. Through fire and flood, through lean and prosperous years, the little church and its modest altar passed in safety. Dread of pirates troubled the Fathers of San José not at all. They had nothing to tempt robbers, and gradually, as the years passed, the famous altar and its story were forgotten. But at last came a time when there was no longer fear of buccaneers, when the despotic rule of Spain was ended, when revolutions were no more, and when, under the protection of Uncle Sam, the new republic was sure of a peaceful and stable future.

Then, for a time, the Fathers of San José worked quietly and in secret; the little white altar was scraped and cleaned; and lo, the covering of paint removed, the golden altar once more blazed forth in all its long-forgotten glory!