“The difficulties of our enterprise have become very great. The Spaniards have had much time to prepare for their defence. They have an ample supply of ammunition, and have assembled a large number of men. Still, let us be of good courage. We must either defend ourselves like valiant soldiers, or lose our lives with all the riches we have gained. I am your captain. Do as I do. We have fought with fewer men than we have now. We have conquered foes more numerous than can possibly oppose us here. The more they are, the greater our glory, and the greater our riches. But know ye this, that the first man who gives any indication of fear, I will pistol with my own hand.”
They landed from their ships, a little after midnight. In all, they numbered three hundred and eighty. Each man had a musket with thirty bullets, cartridges, a cutlass, and two or three loaded pistols in his belt. As they commenced their march, which they knew must lead to the death of some of them, they shook hands with each other in pledge of mutual support.
“Come, my brothers,” said Lolonois, “follow me, and be of good courage.”
Upon reaching the barricade, where they encountered a heavy fire, they turned aside into the new road which had been opened to insnare them. This battle in the woods, amid swamps and thickets, and intertwining vines and torturing thorns, can not be described. The combatants were sometimes up to their waists in mire. The entanglements of a tropical forest were such that they often could not see or approach each other. Much of the firing was at random. The air was heavy with moisture. The large guns of the batteries hurled balls and grape-shot, crashing through the branches. The sulphurous smoke settled down upon the morass in stifling folds.
The pirates cut down branches of the trees and threw them into the marsh, and thus gradually struggled through, until they reached the firm ground beyond. Here the Spaniards were again ready to receive them, with opposing batteries. Many of the pirates had perished in the swamp. Their situation now seemed desperate. Lolonois was equal to the occasion. He feigned a panic. The pirates fled tumultuously, crying out, “Save himself who can.” Their flight was toward the ships.
The Spaniards, deceived by the feigned discomfiture, rushed from behind their intrenchments in eager pursuit, shouting joyfully, “They fly; they fly!” Lolonois and his men, having drawn them some distance from their batteries, turned upon them with the reckless ferocity of tigers. Their bloody work was soon accomplished. A few of the Spaniards escaped in terror to the woods. All the rest were cut down. Gibraltar was at the mercy of the pirates.
Five hundred Spaniards lay dead upon the ground. Many of those who escaped to the woods were wounded, and of these not a few died, for they were destitute of all aid in dressing their wounds. Fearing that so many dead bodies might create contagion, the pirates piled them all in two large boats, and sunk them in the lake. Still many putrefying corpses were left scattered through the woods. The pirates admit that they lost eighty in the conflict. The number was probably greater. Though most of the inhabitants escaped from the town, the victors held about one hundred and fifty prisoners, men, women, and children. They prized these captives because, by torturing them, they hoped to find where money was concealed.
The town was plundered effectually. Every nook and corner they searched. The miserable captives were shut up in the church. Gangs of men were sent out to ravage the plantations around. As provisions became scarce, the prisoners were left without any supply of bread or water. The hearts of the pirates were no more moved by their piteous moans than were the stone blocks with which the church was built. During the four weeks the pirates held Gibraltar, nearly all these captives died of actual starvation.
Their gangs ranged the woods for great distances, bringing in plunder and prisoners. Many women were brought in. Every conceivable measure was resorted to, to get money. The whole region was wantonly turned into a blackened, smouldering desert. Lolonois wished to pursue his mad career over the mountains to Merida. But a pestilential and contagious disease sprang up among his men. God’s hand seemed to smite them. All were sick. Skeleton forms staggered through the streets. These men were not ignorant of the crimes they were committing. There were no loving hands to attend them in the languor of sickness, in the agonies of death. In misery, many of these wretches were burned with fever. Moaning and blaspheming they died, and their guilty souls passed to the tribunal of that God who cannot look upon sin but with abhorrence. They had seized their ill-gotten gold, and it had indeed turned to ashes in their grasp.