In sailing to Chagres a storm arose and dispersed his vessels, keeping them many days at sea. The admiral, always watchful in danger, suffered himself for a moment to sleep in the hour of prosperity. When he approached the river mouth and saw the English flag floating from the blackened walls, he could not restrain the heedless joy of his crew—not waiting for the pilot canoe that was putting out to warn them of their danger, he drove on the sunken rock at the foot of the castle hill. His own and three other vessels sank, yet the crews and cargoes were all saved, and but for a strong "norther" the ships themselves would have been preserved.
Brought into the castle with acclamations and hearty congratulations at his escape, Morgan employed the Spanish prisoners from St. Catherine's in repairing the palisading of the fort, carefully destroying all thatched sheds for fear of fire. He then chose a garrison by lot, and divided the stores. He heard with delight the details of the victory, and lamented the absent dead and the many brave men that had shared so often his own hopes and fears. His next movement was to seize some chatten, or small Spanish vessels that were still in the river. They were small craft that went to and fro between Chagres and Porto Bello, or Nicaragua, or plied with merchandise up and down the river. They mounted six guns, two iron, and four small brass, and were navigated by six men. He also took four small frigates of fourteen and eight guns, and all the canoes he could lay hands on, requiring them for the expedition. He left behind him 100 men, under command of Captain Le Maurice, and 150 men to guard the ships.
For Panama, Morgan took with him 1300 of the best armed and the most robust of his band, five boats with artillery, and thirty-two canoes. He imprudently carried little provisions, expecting to obtain plenty from the Spaniards they should kill in the ambuscades. In spite of the recent victory, and of Morgan's certainty of conquest, many of the Buccaneers were less sanguine than on former expeditions. The Spanish prisoners had succeeded in alarming them by rumours of the dangers and intricacy of the road, and the ambuscades that had been two months in preparation. Some, more superstitious than the rest, thought the wreck of Morgan's ship, and the severe loss at Chagres, bad omens for their success at Panama. But these were mocked at by the rest, as white-livered, and Morgan having divided the provisions between the garrison and the St. Catherine prisoners, reviewed his men, and examined himself their arms and ammunition. He quieted their fears and spoke of victory as already obtained. He exhorted them to show more than usual courage, in order to return as soon as possible rich and glorious to Jamaica. With a shout of "Long live the King of England, and long live Henry Morgan," they began their march towards the doomed city on the 18th of January, 1670.
The first day they advanced only six leagues to Rio de los Braços, where they got out of their canoes to sleep on shore, being crippled with overcrowding in the boats. They could have brought no provisions, for few had any food that day, but a pipe of tobacco "to stop the orifice of the stomach." They could find nothing in the deserted plantations, where even the unripe fruits had been plucked and the roots pulled up before their arrival. The men longed to fight, in order that they might eat. By noon of the next day they reached Cruz de Juan Gallego, where they were obliged to leave their canoes; the river was very dry and shallow from want of rain, and much impeded with fallen trees, but their hopes were excited by the guide's intelligence, that about two leagues further the roads grew better. Here they left their boats with 160 men to guard them, as a resource in case of defeat, giving them strict injunctions not to land for fear of ambuscades in the neighbouring woods, which were so thick as to seem impenetrable. Finding the forest almost impassable, Morgan ordered a few of the canoes to be rowed, though with immense labour, to a place called Cedro Bueno, further up the river, taking half the men at a time and returning for the rest, so by nightfall all the men were once more united. From discovering no ambuscades, in spite of all the wishes of these hungry soldiers, it was supposed that the Spanish spies, willing to avoid a fight, had frightened their officers by exaggerating the number of the adventurers. On the third day Morgan sent forward some guides, who could find no road, the country being flat, inundated, and marshy. The men, who had scarcely eaten anything since their departure, grew faint and hungry, and a few of them gathered the leaves from the forest trees. It being night before they could pass the river, they slept on the bank, exposed, half-clothed as they were, to the tropical damps and cold.
The fourth day's march they advanced in divisions; the largest went by land, the smaller in canoes. The guides were always kept two musket shots in advance, to give notice of ambuscades, and in hopes of capturing stragglers who might furnish intelligence. But the Spaniards had also scouts, very wary, and very "dexterous" in giving notice of all accidents, frequently bringing the Panama men intelligence of the Buccaneers' approach six hours before the enemy arrived. About noon the army reached a post named Torna Cavallos, so called probably from the roughness of the road, and at this spot the guide of the canoes cried out that he saw an ambuscade. With infinite joy, the hungry men, thirsting for blood, flew to arms, knowing that the Spaniards always went luxuriously provided with food, and knowing that a dead Spaniard could want no more provender. As soon as they came within sight of the entrenchment, which was shaped like a half-moon, and the palisading formed of entire trees, they uttered a dreadful shout, and, driven on by rage and hunger, began to race like starved wolves, seeing which could first cross swords with the enemy, whom they believed to be about 400 strong. But their hearts fell within them when they found the place a mere deserted rampart, and all the provisions, but a few crumbs which lay scattered about, either burnt or carried off. Some leather bags lay here and there, as if left in a hasty retreat. Enraged at this, they at once pulled down the Spanish huts, and cutting the leather bags, tore them up for food. Quarrels then arose for the largest messes, but before they could well finish this unsavoury banquet, the drum sounded for the march. About 500 Spaniards seem to have held these entrenchments, and many of the men threatened to devour the first fugitive they could meet with. About night they reached another deserted ambuscade, called Torna Munni, equally bare of food, and the remainder of the bags were now devoured. Those fortunate enough to obtain a strip first soaked slices of it in water, next beat it between two stones, then scraped off the hair with their hunters' knives, and, roasting it in the fire, ate it leisurely in small pieces. "I can assure the reader," says Œxmelin, "that a man can live on this fare, but he can hardly get very fat." Frequent draughts of water (which, by good fortune, they had at hand) seasoned this not very palatable food of men accustomed to revel on venison and brandy. "Some who were never out of their mothers' kitchens," says Esquemeling, "may ask how these pirates could eat and digest those pieces of leather, so hard and dry, whom I answer, that could they once experience what hunger, or rather famine, is, they would find the way as the pirates did."
The fifth day at noon they arrived at a place called Barbacoa, where there were more deserted barricades, and the adjacent plantations were equally bare of either man, animal, or plant. Searching with all the zeal and perseverance of hungry men, they found at last, buried in the floor of a cave lately hewn out of the rock, two sacks of flour, two jars of wine, and some plantains, and Morgan generously divided these among the most exhausted of his troops, some being now nearly dead with famine. The flour they mixed with water, and, wrapping the dough in banana leaves, baked it in the fire. Somewhat refreshed, they renewed their march with increased skill and vigour. The lagging men they placed in the canoes, till they reached at night some deserted plantations known as the Tabernillas, where they slept.
On the sixth day they marched slowly, after resting a time from real weakness, some of the strongest being sent into the woods to pluck berries and pull roots, many even eating leaves and grass. The same day at noon they arrived at a plantation. Eagerly foraging here, but not expecting to find anything, they turned a little from the road, and came upon a barn full of maize in the husk. Beating down the door, they fell upon it and devoured it as rapaciously as a herd of swine, till they fell off satiated. A distribution was then made of it to each man, for hunger does not care for cooking. Loaded with this grain they continued their march in high spirits for about two hours, when they came suddenly on about 200 Indians, and soon after passed a deserted ambuscade. Those who had maize still left threw it away, thinking that the Spaniards and better food were at hand. These archers were on the opposite side of the river. The Buccaneers, firing, killed a few, and pursued the others as far as Santa Cruz. The nimblest escaped by swimming, and two or three adventurers, who waded after them, were pierced with arrows at the ford. The Indians, as they fled, hooted—"Ah perros Ingleses, à la savanah, à la savanah:" "English dogs, English dogs, come to the savannah." Passing the river they were now compelled to begin their march on the opposite side. There was little sleep that night, but great dejection, and murmurs arose against Captain Morgan and his conduct. He was blamed for not having brought provisions, and for not having yet met the Spaniards; condemned for irreconcilable errors, and reviled for even his past successes. Some declared they would return home, others would willingly have done so, yet were afraid to retreat; but a large party declared they would rather die than go back a step. One of the guides, perhaps bribed by Morgan, promised that it should not be long before they met with people from whom they should derive no small advantage, and this comforted them. A tinge of superstition would have soon converted this into one of those prophecies by which Cromwell and Cortes both consoled their desponding troopers.
On the seventh morning, expecting enemies, the men all cleaned their arms, and every one discharged his musket and pistols without ball to let the Spaniards hear they were coming, and that their ammunition was not damaged. Leaving Santa Cruz, where they had rested, they crossed the river in their canoes, and arrived at the town of Cruz.
At some distance from Cruz they had beheld to their great joy a great smoke rising above the roofs, which they thought arose from kitchen chimneys, and quickening their pace they began to laugh, and shout, and leap,—joking at the Spanish waste of fuel, and saying, "the Spanish cooks are roasting meat for our dinner when we have mastered their masters;" but as the smoke grew thicker, they began to think that the enemy were burning some houses that interfered with the fire of the entrenchments.
Two hours after, on arriving panting and hot at Cruz, they found the place deserted and stripped, and no meat, but many fires, for every Spaniard had burnt his own house, and only the royal store-house and stables were left standing. A few crackling ruins were all that remained of the great halfway house between Chagres and Panama, for here the Chagres merchandise was always landed and transported to Panama on the backs of mules, being distant only twenty-six Spanish leagues from the river of Chagres, and eight from Panama. The disappointed Buccaneers spent the remainder of the day at Cruz in seeking food and resting. Every cat and dog was soon killed and eaten, for the cattle had been all driven off. Morgan, growing now more strict in discipline, gave orders that no party of less than 100 men should leave the town. Five or six Englishmen who disobeyed the order were killed by the Indians. In the king's stables fifteen or sixteen jars of Peruvian wine were found, and a leather sack full of biscuit. Morgan, afraid that his men would fall into excesses, spread a report that the Spaniards had poisoned the wine—a report confirmed by the violent sickness of all who drank of it; although half-starved men, fed for a week on vegetable refuse, would have been injured by any excess. It was, however, eagerly drunk, and would have been had there been death in every cup. This sickness detained them a day at Cruz. The canoes, being now useless, were sent back, guarded by sixty men, to join the other boats, one alone being hid in a thicket for fear of any emergency or any necessity arising, and to transmit intelligence to the vessels. He feared that, if left at Cruz, they might be captured, and would at least require an extra guard.