“‘“What is your intended cruising-ground,” he asked, “should I see my way to accept the post you would honour me with?”
“‘“The wealthy Isthmus of Panama, captain, and the province of Costa Rica.”
“‘“The cowardly Spaniards,” he added, with a scornful smile, “have a well-garrisoned island—namely, St. Catherine—to protect their coast. The smart way we shall handle their fort will be highly amusing. Pray honour me by accepting.”
“‘“Well,” said Morgan, “I want to see a bit of shore fighting, so shall accept. The booty will be plentiful, I suppose?”
“‘“You will have more wealth than ever you could have dreamt of in all your life.”
“‘So hands were shaken, and the bargain made.
“‘I myself would have remained behind when the fleet sailed, but I hoped that secretly I might be of service to some of my poor countrymen.
“‘The capture of the Spanish fort was what a soldier would have called “a pretty bit of fighting.” I myself did not land. I was in Vice-Admiral Morgan’s ship, preferring to be near him as friend and counsellor to being captain of a ship of my own. The island was now garrisoned by pirates, and by negroes who were ordered to till it most carefully, and keep the crops for the crews of the Mansvelt fleet when it should return.
“‘During this our first cruise, although many villages along the coast were destroyed, and many demoniacal cruelties enacted, little real harm was done to the country. Then the Governor of Panama organized an expedition to retake the island and fort, which it did one beautiful Sabbath morning, killing many of the pirates, and chasing the rest to the woods.
“‘Morgan was at this time in Jamaica. Mansvelt himself had gone with one ship to that hornet’s nest of pirates, Tortuga, and there, being seized with sudden illness, died.