Lolonois, slowly recovering from his wounds, disguised in a Spanish habit, entered Campeachy. He made friends with a few slaves, stole a small boat, and, as his piratic biographer has it, “came to Tortugas, the common place of refuge of all sorts of wickedness, and the seminary, as it were, of all manner of pirates and thieves.”
His reputation as a successful pirate was such, that he speedily obtained command of another vessel, manned by a crew of twenty-one desperadoes. On the south side of the Island of Cuba, there was a flourishing little village called Cayos. The inhabitants carried on an active trade in tobacco, sugar and hides. Their harbor had not sufficient depth of water for large vessels. The traffic was in boats. Lolonois decided to sack the place.
It was not far across the island to Havana. Some fishermen informed the inhabitants of the approach of the pirate. In terror they sent to Havana for aid. The governor instantly dispatched a war-ship, of ten guns and seventy-five men, for their relief. The governor, astonished that Lolonois had again come to life, issued written orders, as follows:
“You are not to return until you have utterly destroyed all those pirates. Every one is to be immediately hung, excepting Lolonois, their captain. If possible, you are to bring him alive to Havana.”
The ship arrived at Cayos before the pirates had made their attack. They cast anchor just outside the harbor. The pirates, through their confederates, had been informed of their approach. They captured two fishing boats. In the darkness of the ensuing night, they ran these boats, one on each side of the ship, and with sword and pistol leaped on board. The attack was so sudden, so entirely unprovided for, that the few of the crew who were on deck were speedily struck down or driven below.
Lolonois was in command of the ship, with all his prisoners beneath the hatches. One by one they were brought up, and their heads cut off. Not one was spared. The dismembered bodies were cast into the sea. The bloody decks were washed. The pirate, proud of his achievement, and admired by his men, strode to and fro, the proprietor of a strong, well-armed ship, amply provided with everything he could need to aid him in his career of rapine and blood. He wrote a letter to the governor, and sent it to him by one of his captive fishermen. It was as follows:
“I shall never, hereafter, give quarter to any Spaniard. I have great hopes that I shall yet have the pleasure of exercising upon your own person, the punishment I have now inflicted upon those you have sent against me. It is thus that I requite the kindness, which you designed for me and my companions.”
The governor was greatly troubled and perplexed by these tidings. In his anger he took a solemn oath that he would never hereafter grant quarter to any buccaneer who should fall into his hands. But the citizens of Havana implored him not to persist in the execution of this oath. They sent a delegation to him to say:
“If this threat is followed out, the pirates will certainly do the same. They have a hundred times more opportunity of revenge than the governor can have. We must get our living by fishery. Hereafter, if this threat is executed, we shall always be at the peril of our lives.”
Lolonois cruised for some time among the islands, without success. He then directed his course south toward Maracaibo, an important port in the extreme north of the South American continent. After a run of six or eight hundred miles, he reached the entrance of the vast bay which leads up to the city. Here he captured an outward-bound ship, richly laden with plate and silver from the mines.