They arrived in two months, and, unlading the whole "cargazon of riches," proceeded to make a dividend of their prizes and their gains. Lolonnois and the other captains began by taking a solemn oath in public, that they had concealed and held back no portion of the spoil, but had thrown all without reserve into the public stock. The ceremony of this oath must have been an imposing sight: wild groups of half-stripped sailors, wounded men, and female captives, negroes and Indians, Spanish soldiers and mulatto fishermen, and in the middle piled bales of silks, heaps of glittering coin, and rich stuffs streaming over scattered arms and costly jewels, while, looking on, perhaps wistfully, leaning on their muskets, a few hunters fresh from the savannahs, bull's-hide sandals on their feet, and long knives hanging from their belts. After the captains had taken the oath, the common matelots, down even to the cabin boys, took the vow that they had given up all their spoil, to be shared equally by those who had equally ventured their lives to win it.
After an exact calculation, the total value of their profits in jewels and money was discovered to be 260,000 crowns, not including 100,000 crowns' worth of church furniture and a cargo of tobacco. On the final division every man received money, silk, and linen to the value of about 100 pieces of eight. The surgeon and the wounded were as usual paid first. The slaves were then sold by auction, and their purchase-money divided among the various crews. The uncoined plate was weighed, and sold at the rate of ten pieces of eight to a pound; the jewels were sold at false and fanciful prices, and were generally undervalued, owing to the ignorance of the arbitrators. A Buccaneer always preferred coin to jewels, and jewels, as being portable, to heavy merchandise, which they often threw overboard or wantonly destroyed. The adventurers then all took the oath a second time, and proceeded to apportion the shares of such as had fallen, handing them to the matelots, or messmate, to forward to their heirs or nearest relations. We do not know whether, in peculiar cases, a matelot became his camarade's heir.
The dividend over, they returned to Tortuga, amid the general rejoicing of all over whom love or cupidity had any power. "For three weeks, while their money lasted," says Œxmelin, probably an eye witness of the scene, "there was nothing but dances, feasts, and protestations of unceasing friendship." The cabaretiers and the gambling-house keepers soon revenged the cruelties of Maracaibo. The proud captors of that luckless city in a few weeks were hungry beggars, basking on the quay of Tortuga, straining their eyes to catch sight of some vessel that might take them on board, and relieve them from that reaction of wretchedness. They were jeered at as mad spendthrifts by the very men who had urged them to their folly. The love of courtesans grew colder as the pieces of eight diminished, and men were refused charity by the very wretches whom their foolish generosity had lately enriched. No doubt watches were fried and bank-bills eaten as sandwiches, just as they were during the war at Portsmouth or at Dover. The prudent were those who made the money spin out a day longer than their fellows, and the wildest were those who had found out that two dice-boxes and two fiddlers ran through the burdensome money a little faster than only one dice-box and one fiddler.
Some of the Buccaneers, skilful with the cards, added to their store and returned at once to France, resolved to turn merchants, and trade with the Indies they had wasted. The extravagant prices paid by these men for wine, and particularly brandy, rendered that trade a source of great profit. Just before the return of the fleet two French vessels had arrived at Tortuga laden with spirits, which at first sold at very moderate rates, but ultimately, from the great demand and the limited means of supply, reached an exorbitant price, a gallon selling for as much as four pieces of eight.
The tavern-keepers and the filles de joie obtained most of the money so dearly earned, and lavished it as those from whom they won it had done. Cards and dice helped those who had not struck a blow at the Spaniard, to now quietly spoil the captors. The story of Sampson and Dalilah was daily acted. Even the governor hastened to benefit by the expedition. He bought a cargo of cocoa of the Buccaneers, and shipped it at once to France in Lolonnois' vessel, giving scarcely a twentieth part of its value, and realising a profit of £120,000. The adventurers did not grudge him this bargain, as he had risked everything for Tortuga, and had suffered considerable losses. "M. D'Ogeron," says Œxmelin, with some naïveté, "aimait les 'honnêtes gens,' les obligeait sans cesse, et ne les lassait jamais manquer de rien."
Neither Lolonnois' talent, rank, nor courage kept him further from the tavern door than the meanest of his crew. The poor drudge of a negro that served as a butt to the sailors could not give way to baser debauchery. It was the voice of the cannon alone that roused him to great actions. On land he was a Caliban, at sea a Barbarossa. In spite of his great booty, in a few short weeks he was poorer than his crew. Tortuga was to him the Circe's island that transformed him into a beast. As soon as his foot trod the plank, he became again the wily and the wise Ulysses: the first in daring or in suffering, ready to endure or to attack, above his fellow men in patience and impatience. His expenses were large, and when the prizes ceased to come in he was soon reduced to live upon his capital, and that quickly melted away in open-house feasting and entertainments given to the governor. He had been before he returned, moreover, so burdened with debts that even his prize-money could not have defrayed them. There was but one means of release—another expedition. Let the Spanish mother clasp her child closer to her breast, for she knows not how soon she may have to part with it for ever. Is there no comet that may warn an unprepared and a doomed people?
Lolonnois had now acquired great repute at Tortuga. He was known to be brave, and, what is a rare combination, prudent. Under his guidance men who had forgot his previous misfortunes, thought themselves secure of gold, and without glory gold is not to be won. He needed now no entreaties to induce men to fill his ships; the difficulty was in selecting from the volunteers. Those who had before stayed behind now determined to venture; those who had once followed him were already driven by mere poverty to enlist. The privations of land were intolerable to men who had just revelled in riches—the privations of sea could be endured by the mere force of habit. The planters threw by their hoes, and quitted the hut for the cabin.
The towns of Nicaragua were now to share the fate of those of Venezuela. About 700 men and six ships formed the expedition. Lolonnois himself sailed in a large "flute" which he had brought from Maracaibo with 300 men; the other adventurers embarked in five smaller vessels. Having careened and revictualled at Bayala, in Hispaniola, he steered for Matamana, a port on the south side of Cuba. He here informed his companions of the plan of the expedition, and produced an Indian of Nicaragua who had offered to serve as guide. He assured them of the riches of the country, and expressed his belief that they could surprise the place before the inhabitants had secreted their money. His proposal was received with the usual unhesitating applause.
At Matamana, Lolonnois collected by force all the canoes of the tortoise fishermen, much to their grief and dismay, these poor men having no other means of subsistence but fishing. These boats he needed to take him up the channel of Nicaragua, which was too shallow for vessels of any larger burthen. While attempting to round Cape Gracias à Dios, the fleet was arrested by what the Spanish sailors call a "furious calm"—a sad and tedious imprisonment to men to whom every delay involved the success of their enterprise.
In spite of all their endeavours, they were carried by the current into the Gulf of Honduras. Both wind and tide being against them, the smaller vessels—better sailers and more manageable than that of Lolonnois—made more way than he could do; but were obliged to wait for him, and stay for his orders, being quite powerless without him and his 300 men.