Some gazed at each other silently and hopelessly; others wailed and wept, a few cursed and raged. Here stood one mourning for a brother—there another lamenting a wife. Many believed that they should never see each other again; but would be sold as slaves in Jamaica. The first evening the army encamped in the middle of a green savannah on the banks of a cool and pleasant river. This was a great relief to the wretched prisoners, who had been dragged all day through the heat of a South American noon by men themselves insensible to climate—urged forward by the barrels of muskets and blows from the butts of pikes. Some of the women were here seen begging the Buccaneers, with tears in their eyes, for a drop of water, that they might moisten a little flour for their children, who hung crying at their parched and dried-up breasts. The next day, when they resumed the march, the shrieks and lamentations were more terrible than before. "They would have caused compassion in the hardest heart," says Esquemeling; "but Captain Morgan, as a man little given to mercy, was not moved in the least." The lagging Spaniards were driven on faster with blows, till some of the women swooned with the intense heat, and were left as dead by the road-side. Those who had husbands gave them the children to carry. The young and the beautiful fared best. The fair Spaniard was led between two Buccaneers, still apart from the rest. She wept as she walked along, crying that she had entrusted two priests in whom she relied to procure her ransom money, 30,000 piastres, from a certain hidden place, and that they had employed it in ransoming their friends. A slave had brought a letter to the lady and disclosed the treachery. Her complaint being told to Morgan he inquired into it, and found it to be true. The religious men confessed their crime, but declared they had only borrowed the money, intending to repay it in a week or so. He therefore at once released the lady, and detained the monks in her place, taking them on to Chagres and despatching two men to obtain their ransom.
On arriving at Cruz the mules were unloaded, preparatory to embarkation. The Buccaneers encamped round the king's warehouse, where it was stored. Three days were given to collect the ransom. The Spaniards, tardy or unwilling in the collection, brought in the money the day after. Vast quantities of corn, rice, and maize were collected here for victualling the ships. Morgan embarked 150 slaves, and a few poor and obstinate Spaniards who had not yet paid their ransom. The monks were redeemed, and escaped happy enough. A part of the Buccaneers marched by land. Many tears of joy and sorrow were shed when the prisoners and those who were liberated took farewell.
On reaching Barbacoa the division of the spoil began. Mustering his men, Morgan compelled them all to swear they had concealed nothing, even of the smallest value, and, what was more unusual, he ordered them all to be individually searched from top to toe, down even to the very soles of their shoes. This search was suspicious and insulting. The Frenchmen, hot-blooded and mutinous, would have openly resisted had they not been in the minority. Morgan allowed himself to be first searched to lessen the general discontent, and one man in every company was employed as searcher. No precautions were neglected that could be suggested by long experience of plundering.
This unusual vigilance was a mere cloak for Morgan's own dishonesty. Every man was now compelled to discharge his musket before the searchers, that they might be sure no precious stones were hidden in the barrel. These searchers were generally the lieutenants of each crew, and had all taken an additional oath to perform their duty with fidelity. The murmurs against Morgan had now reached such a height, and were so hourly increasing, that many Frenchmen threatened to take his life before they reached Jamaica. The more temperate controlled the younger and the more impetuous, and the band reached Chagres without any revolt. They found the garrison short of provisions and glad to be relieved, but the wounded had nearly all died of their wounds.
From Chagres Morgan sent a great boat to Porto Bello with all the St. Catherine's prisoners, and demanded a ransom for sparing the castle of Chagres. The people of Porto Bello replied they would not give one farthing, and he might burn it as he chose.
The day after their arrival, Morgan divided the booty. It amounted to only 443,000 pounds, estimating at ten piastres the pound. The jewels were sold unfairly, the admiral and his cabal buying the greater part very cheap, having already, it was believed, retained all the best of the spoil. Every one had expected at least 1000 pieces each, and was disappointed and indignant at receiving only about 200. There was an end now to all co-operation between English and French adventurers, and the hopes of a Buccaneer republic were at an end for ever. The murmurs again rose incontrollably high, and some proposed to seize Morgan and force him to a fair division.
The suspected admiral, trying in vain to pacify them, and finding he could obtain no price for Chagres, divided the provisions of the fort among the vessels, removed the cannon and ammunition, then demolished the fortifications, and burnt the buildings. Suddenly taking alarm, or more probably following a preconcerted plan, Morgan sailed out of the harbour without any signal or notice, and hurried to Jamaica, followed by four English vessels, whose captains had been his confidants.
In the first paroxysm of their rage, the French adventurers would have pursued Morgan, and attacked his vessel, but he escaped while they were still hesitating. We shall find him finally settled in Jamaica, and married to the daughter of the chief person of the island, a sure proof, says the indignant and philosophical Œxmelin, that any one is esteemed in this world provided he has money.
The same vivacious writer gives a lively picture of the rage of the crews at the treacherous flight of Morgan. They shouted, swore, stamped, clenched their fists, gnashed their teeth, and tore their hair, fired off their pistols in the air, and brandished their arms, with imprecations loud and deep. They longed for the plunder they had lost, and longed still more eagerly for revenge. They never now mentioned the Welsh name but with an execration. Strange anomaly of the human mind, that men who lived by robbery, should be astonished at a small theft committed by a comrade! In the first bitterness of their vexation, they drew their sabres, and hewed and thrust at their imaginary enemy. They bared their arms, and pointed out to each other the cicatrices of their half-healed wounds.
Confirmations of the admiral's treachery reached them from every side.