The monarchs, both of England and France, but especially the former, connived at, and even encouraged the freebooters, whose services could be obtained in time of war, and whose actions could be disavowed in time of peace. Thus buccaneer, filibuster, and sea-rover were for the most part at leisure to hunt wild cattle, and to pillage and massacre the Spaniards wherever they found an opportunity. When not on some marauding expedition they followed the chase, and one day's employment was like that of another. Setting forth at daybreak, accompanied by their dogs and servants, they continued their search until as many head of bullocks were slain as there were members in the party. Hides were thus provided sufficient to fill contracts with the captain of a trading vessel which usually lay stationed in some neighboring bay, and were carried down to the sea-shore by bondsmen, who under the name of apprentices had been inveigled into a contract to serve for a term of years. For them there was no seventh or other day of rest. One of these unfortunates ventured on a certain occasion to expostulate with his master, quoting the divine injunction with the preamble: "I say unto thee, etc." And "I say unto thee," returned the buccaneer, "six days shalt thou kill bullocks, and strip them of their skins, and on the seventh day thou shalt carry their hides to the sea-shore."
The dress of the buccaneers consisted of a shirt dipped in the blood of a slaughtered animal, pantaloons of leather, if possible filthier than the shirt, shoes of rawhide, and a hat without rim. All goods, other than articles of virtu, were held in common; and as life was precarious, half of them at least being sure to die in the Indies, each chose a comrade with whom property of every description was shared. Though without laws or religion they had few disputes, and those were readily adjusted. They were governed by a rough code, established by themselves, and there were not wanting among them those who displayed, though usually in a brutal fashion, the possibilities of a better nature. Of Ravenau de Lussan, who figures in the history of the buccaneers, and whose operations will be mentioned in their place, it is related that he joined them only because he was in debt, and in order to obtain the means of satisfying his creditors. Of Montbar, a Frenchman of Languedoc, the chroniclers relate that on reading the story of the atrocities committed by the Spaniards on the hapless natives, he conceived such a hatred against them that he also joined the corsairs, and by his deeds of vengeance won the sobriquet of the Exterminator. Of a French captain of filibusters named Daniel, it is recorded that he shot one of his own crew in church for some indecorous act committed during the performance of mass. Until 1665 there were few women among these rapscallions. In that year a governor sent out to take charge of the French settlements in Santo Domingo, brought with him a few females of lax morality, whom the buccaneers took to wife in this fashion: "Your past is nothing to me, for then I did not know, and you did not then belong to me. I acquit you of all evil; but you must pledge me your word for the future." The foul troth was thus plighted, when striking his hand on the barrel of his gun the husband exclaimed: "This will avenge me should you prove false."[XXVI‑6]
The deeds of Pierre Le Grande and Bartolomé Portuguez, who figure in the stories of buccaneering raids about the time of Montbar's exploits—the middle of the seventeenth century—require no record in these pages. The name that stands preëminent among all the cut-throats, who at this period infested the North Sea and the shores of the main, is that of a personage called François L'Olonnois, a native of France, but one whose natural ferocity almost forbids us to class him with the human race. Montbar, though his hate amounted to frenzy, was impelled only by indignation against the oppressors and sympathy for the sufferings of the oppressed, and would accept no share in the proceeds of his raids.[XXVI‑7] But no such half-human feeling, no shadow of honest intent, ever prompted the monster L'Olonnois. Montbar was an undiscerning fiend; L'Olonnois an arch-fiend, with no faculty impaired. Transported in youth to the West Indies, ere long he exchanged convict life for the more genial pursuits of a filibuster, and his first position among those rovers on sea and land was that of a common mariner. In that capacity he made several voyages, and so distinguished himself by his brute strength and fearlessness that the governor of Tortuga[XXVI‑8] supplied him with a ship and armament wherewith to reap a harvest of gold.
The success which he achieved was great, and his operations attracted the attention of congenial cut-throats, who eagerly manned his decks, and at the same time stamped his name in crimson letters on the hearts of the race which he regarded as his prey. Even the elements attempted to arrest his destroying hand, and in one of his cruises cast his vessel on the shore of Campeche, where nearly all his comrades were killed by the Spaniards.
But the devil did not abandon his high-priest. L'Olonnois, though severely wounded, and regarding himself and his party as lost, smeared himself with blood without being perceived, and fell apparently lifeless among the slain.[XXVI‑9] Stripping off the dress of a dead Spaniard when the enemy had departed, he crawled over the ghastly forms of his late comrades and hid in the woods; then he boldly entered a neighboring town, and by promise of freedom induced some slaves to go with him. Stealing a large canoe, in due time they reached the isle of Tortuga.
GLORIOUS BUTCHERY.
Terrible as he was before this disaster, the future deeds of L'Olonnois were still more atrocious. "I shall never henceforward give quarter to any Spaniard whatsoever," he writes to the governor of Cuba, after having beheaded, with his own hand, all save one of the survivors on board a captured ship which had been sent against him. And he was as good as his word. He hacked to pieces captive after captive, quenching his thirst with the blood that dripped from his heated cutlass. He tore out men's hearts and chewed them, and watched prisoners slowly die of hunger and thirst. If under the most agonizing torture the information wrung from a Spaniard was not satisfactory, the hapless wretch's tongue was wrenched out by the roots. Verily the cruelties of the conquerors were visited upon their descendants.
The reputation of L'Olonnois as a successful leader became so great that the most reckless and determined were ever ready to join in any enterprise projected by him. Between 1660 and 1665 he planned an expedition against the north coast of Central America and soon was in command of six ships and seven hundred men. Directing his course to Cape Gracias á Dios, he was driven by stress of weather into the bay of Honduras, where, distressed for want of provisions, his party ascended the Jagua River[XXVI‑10] in their canoes, sacking and destroying the Indian villages on the banks, and murdering the inhabitants. The pirates then cruised along the coast committing similar depredations. At Puerto de Caballos, after taking a Spanish ship of twenty-four guns and sixteen swivels, they landed and sacked two large store-houses. These with the town they burned, and having captured a number of the inhabitants inflicted upon them the most inhuman cruelties. L'Olonnois at the head of three hundred men next proceeded to San Pedro, about twelve leagues distant, and on his march thither fell in with three strong bodies of Spaniards who lay in ambush for him. These he successively routed, but not without the loss of many of his men. His treatment of prisoners and wounded captives was marked by his customary atrocities.
A MOST VALIANT SOLDIER.
On arriving at San Pedro he found the town strongly fortified at the main entrance, the other parts being surrounded by impenetrable thickets of thorny shrub and cactus, and his only plan was to assault the barricades. The Spaniards, however, defended themselves with desperation, and the pirates were compelled to withdraw from their first attack. Their second attempt caused such mortality among the defenders that they hoisted a flag of truce and agreed to surrender the town on condition that quarter be given the inhabitants for two hours. These terms were agreed to, and, strange though it may appear, were faithfully kept by the pirates. The inhabitants gathered up their effects and fled, but no sooner had the two hours expired than L'Olonnois gave orders for pursuit. The freebooters were disappointed, for the men of San Pedro had secreted the greater part of their valuables and merchandise, and the pirates found only some indigo to recompense them for their toil and danger.[XXVI‑11]