The next day they ascended a very steep hill, and found at the foot of it a river, on which Andræas told them Santa Maria was built. About noon they ascended another and higher mountain, by so perpendicular and narrow a path that only one man could pass at a time. Having marched eighteen miles, they halted that night on the banks of the same river, much rain falling during both nights. The next day they crossed the river, after wading sometimes up to the knee, sometimes to the middle, in a steep current. At noon they reached the Indian village, near which the king of Darien resided. The houses were neatly built of cabbage-tree, with the roofs of wild canes, thatched with palmito royal, and were surrounded by plantain walks; they had no upper storeys. The king, queen, and family, came to visit them in royal robes. Like most savages, he was all ornament and nakedness, gold and dirt. His crown was made with woven white reeds, lined with red silk. In the middle was a thin plate of gold, some beads, and several ostrich feathers; in each ear a gold ring; and in his nose a half-moon of the same metal. His robe was of thin white cotton, and in his hand he held a long bright lance, sharp as a knife. The queen wore several red blankets, and her two marriageable daughters and young child were loaded with coloured beads, and covered with strips of rag. The women seemed "free, easy, and brisk," but modest and afraid of their husbands. The king gave the sailors each three plantains and some sugar-canes to suck, but, after that regal munificence, did not disdain to sell his stores like his subjects, who proved very cunning dealers in their purchases of knives, pins, and needles. Resting here a day, Captain Sawkins was appointed to lead the forlorn hope of eighty men. Their march still lay along the river, and here and there they found a house. The Indians, standing at the doors, would present each with a ripe plantain or cassave root, or count them by dropping a grain of millet for each one that passed. They rested at night at some native houses.
The next day Sharp, Coxen, and Cook, and ninety men, embarked in fourteen canoes to try how far the stream was navigable, Captain Andræas being with them, and two Indians in each canoe serving as guides. But the water proved more tedious than the land; for at the distance of every stone's-cast, they were constrained to get out of the boats and haul them over sands, rocks, or fallen trees, and sometimes over spits of land. That night they built huts on the bank, being worn out with fatigue.
The next day proved a repetition of the past; at night a tiger came near them, but they dared not fire for fear of alarming the Spaniards. The following day was worse than before, and their men grew mutinous and suspicious of the Indians, who, they thought, had divided the troop in order to betray them. The fourth day, resting on "a beachy point of land," where another arm joined the river, they were joined by their companions, whom they had sent their Indians to seek, and who had grown alarmed at their continued absence. That night they prepared their arms for action. On the morrow they re-embarked, in all sixty-eight canoes and 327 Englishmen, with fifty Indian guides. They made themselves paddles, threw away the Indian poles, and rowed with all speed, meeting several boats laden with plantains. About midnight they arrived within half-a-mile of Santa Maria, and landed. The mud was so deep that they had to lay down their paddles and lift themselves up by the boughs of the trees; then cutting a way through the woods, they took up their lodging there for the night, hoping to surprise the Spaniards.
At daybreak, to their disappointment, they were awoke by the discharge of a musket and the beating of a drum. The Spaniards had already prepared some lead for their reception, and had sent away their gold to Panama. Directly they emerged into the plain, the enemy ran into a large palisaded fort, twelve feet high, and began to fire quick and close. The vanguard, running up, pulled down part of the stockade and broke in and took them prisoners, the whole 280 men. A few English were wounded, not one being killed of the fifty men who led the attack. 200 other Spaniards were in the mines conveying away the gold, the mines there being the richest of the western world. Twenty-six Spaniards were killed in the fort and sixteen wounded, but the governor, priest, and chief men all escaped by flight. The town proved to be merely a few cane houses, built to check the Indians, who frequently rebelled. Some days before, three cwt. of gold had been sent in a bark to Panama, the same quantity being despatched twice or thrice a-year.
During the fight the Indians, frightened at the whistling of the bullets, had hid themselves in a hollow; when all was over they entered the place, with great courage stabbing the prisoners with their lances, and putting about twenty to death in the woods, till the Buccaneers interfered. In the town the Indians found the eldest daughter of the Darien king, whom one of the garrison had carried off, and who was then with child by him. Rather than be left to the mercy of the Indians, this man offered to lead them to Panama, where they hoped to capture all the riches of Potosi and Peru. Sawkins in a canoe attempted in vain to overtake the governor and his officers, and rather than return empty-handed, resolved to go to Panama, to satisfy what Ringrose calls "their hungry appetite of gold and riches."
Captain Coxen was chosen commander, and the booty and prisoners sent back to the ships under a guard of twelve men. The Indians, being rewarded with presents of needles and beads, also returned, all but the king. Captain Andræas, Captain Antonio, and the king's son, King Golden Cap (bonete d'oro), as the Spaniards called him, resolved to go on, desiring to see Panama sacked, and offering to aid them with a large body of men. The Spanish guide declared he would not only lead them into the town, but even to the very door of the governor of Panama's bed-chamber, and that they should take him by the hand, and seize him and the whole city, before they should be discovered by the Spaniards.
After remaining two days at Santa Maria, they departed April 17th, 1680, for Panama.
They embarked in thirty-five canoes and a piragua which they had found lying at anchor, rowing down the river to the gulf of Belona, where they would enter the South Sea and work round to Panama. At the request of the Indian king the fort, church, and town were all burnt. The Spanish prisoners, afraid of being put to death by the savages if left behind, collected some bark logs and leaky canoes, although the Buccaneers could scarcely find boats for themselves, and went with them.
Ringrose and four other men were put in the heaviest and slowest canoe, and, getting entangled between a shoal two miles long, and obliged to wait for high water, the boat being too heavy to row against tide, were soon left behind. At night, it being again low water, they stuck up an oar in the river, and, in spite of a weltering rain, slept all night by turns in the canoe. The next morning, rowing two leagues, they overtook their companions filling water at an Indian hut, there being no more for six days' journey. Hurrying to a pond a quarter of a mile distant with their calabashes, they returned to their boats and found the rest again gone and out of sight. "Such," moralises Ringrose, "is the procedure of these wild men, that they care not in the least whom they lose of their company or leave behind. We were now more troubled in our minds than before, fearing lest we should fall into the same misfortune we had so lately overcome."
They rowed after them as fast as possible, but in vain, and lost their way among the innumerable islands of the river's mouth; but at last, with much trouble and toil, hit the Bocca Chica, the desired passage. But though they saw the door, they could not pass through, the "young flood" running violently against them—although it was only a stone's-cast off, and not a league broad. Here, then, in despair they put ashore, fastening the rope to a tree, almost covered by a tide that flowed four fathoms deep.