In the wake of the buccaneers

by A. Hyatt Verrill

There in the unimposing little church it stands, beneath a great window of rich stained-glass through which the sun beats down in dazzling radiance upon the burnished surface of the mass of gold. Unchanged in all its delicate chasing and [[341]]engraving, as beautiful and wonderful as when it shone in its brilliancy in old Panama, the altar of San José has endured through the centuries, unsuspected, a secret known only to the Fathers of the church, to burst from its chrysalis of white paint when the time was ripe. Probably it is the only treasure that survived the pirates’ raid and still exists, the only remnant of that stupendous store of priceless treasure which made Old Panama famous as the richest city of New Spain.

But aside from this altar, so strangely and romantically saved from the pillage and destruction of Panama, there is much to be seen of the old city laid low by Morgan and his men. By motor-car one may travel easily and quickly to the spot, a scant five miles along the shore from the present city.

First of the ruins to be seen is the low, arched bridge of stone, partly fallen but still spanning a little tidal stream—the very bridge across which Morgan and his pirates swarmed on that fateful day in 1671. Beyond and to the left is the still massive ruin of a great building; to the right are others; and standing, still majestic, above all, is the tower of the old cathedral, all that remains of St. Anastasio. In its roofless aisles great trees have grown; from crevices and chinks in the masonry, [[342]]plants, bushes, and vines have sprung; but still the tower stands intact, the same “beautiful building whereof makes a fair show at a distance like that of St. Paul’s in London,” as Ringrose described it.

But it took a homesick seaman who had been long absent from London Town, and had, perchance, dim memories of St. Paul’s, to see the similarity between that mighty pile and St. Anastasio’s lonely tower. Still, it is impressive as it stands there, a vivid reminder of the pirates’ ruthlessness, a fitting monument to the countless innocent people who died within its shadow and whose bones have long since crumbled to dust among the undergrowth of this forsaken spot.

Close to the old church and at the very edge of the sea, still stands a remnant of the city wall and the forts at the harbor mouth, and scattered about among the underbrush are many other walls and ruins.

Unappreciative of such matters, though ever boastful of the ruins, the Panamanians have allowed the site of Old Panama to be defiled by a disreputable cantina or drinking- and dance-hall; and they have neglected the place until, for the most part, it is a mere tangle, a miniature jungle of weeds, bushes, and trees. [[343]]

Dr. Dexter, while superintendent of the schools of Panama, devoted a great deal of time to a thorough investigation of the ruins; and with the aid of natives, supplied by the Government, the place was cleaned of brush, and careful measurements and plans were made. From these Dr. Dexter modeled a reproduction of the ruins of accurate scale, and then secured from the archives of Seville copies of the original reports and descriptions of Panama as it was in Morgan’s day.

From these data we know that the city was very different from the generally accepted ideas of that “goode and statelye city” which Esquemelling described as having “two thousand houses of magnificent and prodigeous building, being all or the greatest part inhabited by merchants of that country, who are vastly rich. For the rest of the inhabitants of lesser quality and tradesmen, this city contained five thousand houses more.” If by “magnificent and prodigeous building” the chronicler of the raid meant stone or brick buildings, then he was utterly at fault, for the official records show that there were few buildings of stone or of note, and that the majority of the houses, as well as some of the public buildings, were of wattled cane, wood, and adobe thatched with palm. Moreover, the bulk of these were little more than huts, [[344]]and in the official description of the town the dwellings were divided into two classes,—those with floors and those without,—and those minus flooring were greatly in the majority.

But there is no reason to think that Esquemelling meant that the “magnificent and prodigeous building” or the lesser houses were of stone. Indeed, he specifically says: “All the houses of this city were built with cedar, being of a very curious and magnificent structure.” Had the town been of solid stone and masonry, as has been assumed (although the buccaneers’ accounts do not state this), it would have been a difficult matter to burn it to the ground, whereas we can readily understand how the conflagration swept the hundreds of flimsy wooden and cane structures before it and left only the indestructible stone walls and buildings standing.

Unquestionably, in comparison with other cities of its day Panama was a “goode and statelye” town, for it contained the massive St. Anastasio Cathedral, seven monasteries, and two nunneries; at least four churches, a hospital, a great number of stables wherein were kept the horses and mules used in transporting treasure and merchandise over the Gold Road; a huge public market; a “statelye and magnificent house belonging to the Genoese [[345]]for their trade and commerce in negroes”; a number of big warehouses; barracks; a governor’s house; a vault wherein were stored the treasures to be transported; and several forts, most of which were of massive stone construction. The ruins of all of these may still be traced, although the greater portion of the ruined churches, monasteries, and other buildings were torn down and the material carried to the new city of Panama, where it was used in constructing the buildings.