Captain William Kidd and Others of the Buccaneers

CHAPTER XI
The End of Lolonois’s Career

^{The Pirates’ Perfidy. – Capture of a Spanish Ship. – Misery of the Pirates. – Desertion of Vauclin. – The Shipwreck. – Life upon the Island. – Expedition to Nicaragua. – Its utter Failure. – Ferocity of the Indians. – Exploring the River. – The Retreat. – Coasting to Darien. – Capture and Death of Lolonois. – Fate of the Remnants.}

Lolonois waited patiently the two hours which he had agreed to grant the inhabitants to vacate the place. He then entered the town, and, in perfidious disregard of the spirit of his engagement, dispatched armed bands to pursue the fugitives, and not only rob them of everything in their possession, but also to bring them all back as prisoners.

This was done. But the thieves were much disappointed in the amount of plunder they found, San Pedro was by no means a wealthy place. The inhabitants gained a comfortable but frugal living, mainly by raising indigo.

The pirates, in their great disappointment, supposed, as usual, that much treasure had been concealed. They therefore put their captives to the torture, to force them to point out the places of concealment. Though many died under the terrible infliction, no discoveries were made. The pirates, in revenge, laid the town in ashes. In this fruitless expedition they lost about one hundred men in killed and wounded, endured great suffering, and inflicted inconceivable misery upon their brother man.

About one hundred and fifty miles southwest of San Pedro was the rich old Spanish town of Guatemala, capital of the capacious province of that name. Lolonois, in his frenzied state of mind, was determined to send back to the ship for reënforcements, and then to march upon Guatemala. But his piratic crew refused to accede to so insane a proposal.

For eighteen days these marauders lingered around San Pedro, before they applied the torch. They then, leaving only ruins and misery behind them, returned to the fleet. Those left there had employed their time in robbing the Indians, burning their huts, and inflicting all manner of evil upon their families. Some of these captives on the coast informed them that about sixty miles west, at the mouth of the great river of Guatemala, called Montagua, there was a large Spanish ship, which had recently arrived from Spain.

As soon as Lolonois arrived, several boats filled with pirates, thoroughly armed, were sent to capture the ship. The Indians had informed the inmates of the ship of the presence of the pirates. Anticipating a visit, they had made such preparations as they could to repel them. The ship mounted forty-two guns, was well supplied with small arms, and had a select crew of one hundred and thirty fighting men.

The pirates, after opening fire upon the ship for some time, from one of their vessels with twenty-two heavy guns, sent four boats, each carrying about forty men, to clamber over the bulwarks of the ship, cutlass in hand, at four points. In this assault they were much aided by a dense fog, which, blending with the smoke of the powder, had settled down so heavily as to conceal the approach of the boats.

The crew were sailors. The pirates were veteran soldiers. The conflict was like that between well-trained regulars and raw militia. Very soon the pirates were masters of the ship, and the deck was covered with the dead and the dying. But again these wretched plunderers were disappointed. The vessel had been almost entirely unladen. Its remaining cargo consisted of twenty thousand reams of paper and one hundred tons of iron bars. Neither of these were of any use to the pirates. The ship, however, with its great guns, its small arms, and its abundance of ammunition, was deemed a great acquisition. But God so ordered it that even this capture proved a calamity rather than an aid to the enterprises of Lolonois.

The desperate leader of this piratic gang called a general council, and insisted upon the march across the country to Guatemala. It was a stormy session. The general discontent was expressed in curses and oaths, and bitter recriminations. Nearly one-fourth of their number had perished. They had endured almost intolerable sufferings. As yet they had accomplished nothing in the way of enriching themselves. And now they were urged to embark on a desperate enterprise, where they certainly would be exposed to the greatest hardships, and where all would probably perish.

These men had embarked from Tortuga, with the expectation that dollars and doubloons would be gathered by shovelfuls. They were now poor, hungry, mutinous, angry with each other, and the prospect before them was discouraging in the extreme. All thoughts of ravaging Nicaragua, in their present state of despondency and with the great diminution of their numbers, were relinquished.

Moses Vauclin had charge of the splendid ship recently captured. His ship was a swift sailer. With one or two officers conspiring with him, and his crew of nearly one hundred and fifty men gained over, they decided to run away and cruise on their own account. In the night they silently raised their anchors, took advantage of a fresh breeze, and, before the morning’s dawn, disappeared beyond the horizon. When Lolonois awoke and found that he was thus deserted, the madman paced his deck in a frenzy of impotent rage.

The fugitives could not endure the idea of returning penniless to Tortuga, where they would thus become the laughing-stock of the whole community. The wind favored them. They ran along the coast of Honduras and Nicaragua to the south, until they reached the province of Costa Rica. In their desperation, being resolved to accomplish something, they landed and attacked and sacked the poor little town of Veruguas, killing many of the inhabitants. The furniture in the huts of these poor people was of no value to them. They gained only the pitiful sum of about forty dollars’ worth of gold, which the slaves had washed out from the mud of the rivers.

This region was low and unhealthy. The Spanish grandees, who owned the mines and cultivated them by the compulsory labor of slaves, had their residences in the more healthy region of Nata, at the distance of several leagues. The Spaniards began to gather in large numbers to repel the invaders. The pirates, alarmed, fled to their ship, and returned to Tortuga. Here they disbanded, and we learn no more of the fate of this portion of Lolonois’s army. Each one, doubtless, found his way, through crime and misery, to death and to the judgment-seat of Christ.

Lolonois was left at Port Cavallo, with but about two hundred men. He was almost destitute of food; most of his ammunition was consumed; many were sick from the insalubrity of the climate, and all were dissatisfied, clamorous, and angry.

Lolonois remained for some time in the Bay of Honduras. Esquemeling writes: “His ship was too great to get out at the time of the reflux of those seas, which the smaller vessels could more easily do.”

Every day he sent his boats ashore for food. The fruit of the region was soon all consumed, and they fed on the flesh of parrots and monkeys. Slowly working their way along the coast by the night breeze, they found the days generally calm. Casting anchor in the morning, they sought provisions in fishing and hunting. At length they rounded the extreme eastern point of Honduras, at Cape Gracios à Dios. Just beyond, a group of islands called the Pearl Islands, hove in sight.

The indomitable Lolonois was still determined to ravage a portion of the rich province of Nicaragua. It was his plan to anchor his vessels at the mouth of the river St. John, by which the great inland sea called Lake Nicaragua empties its waters into the ocean, and then to ascend the majestic stream in his armed boats. While sailing among the islands in an almost unknown sea, he ran his ship upon a sandbank. All his efforts to float the ship again were in vain. With infinite labor he took out the heavy guns and the iron; but the ship had sunk too deep in the sand to be moved.

Finding his ship thus hopelessly wrecked, he decided to break her to pieces, and with her planks and nails to construct a large and strong boat with which he could ascend the river. The crew all landed upon an island, built themselves huts in the Indian fashion, and, with a reckless disregard of misfortune, commenced building their boat. Expecting that it might be necessary to spend some time there, they dug gardens and planted peas and other vegetables.

The island upon which they were was large, and was inhabited by a very fierce tribe of Indians. But their clubs and lances armed with crocodiles’ teeth were but impotent weapons, when met by the muskets, the pistols, and the sabres of the pirates. The Indians had doubtless heard of the atrocities committed by these rovers over seas and land, for they fled precipitally at their approach, and taking to their canoes, actually abandoned the island.

The vegetables which the pirates sowed grew rapidly. It was six months before their large boat, or rather small vessel, was completed. In the mean time they raised quite large crops of beans, wheat, potatoes, and bananas. It is strange that this experience did not teach them that they could much more easily and happily gain a living by honest than by dishonest means. But still they clung to the misery of piracy, with its crime, its cruelty, and its wild revelry.

When the vessel was finished, Lolonois took one-half of his company, or about one hundred men, in this vessel and a ship which remained to him, and sailed for the mouth of St. John’s River. The other half were left behind. As nothing was said about the other smaller vessels of the fleet, it is probable that they all had been lost in the various casualties of their voyage, or had escaped with Vauclin. It was known that the Indians on the river had very large boats, formed by hollowing out the trunk of a gigantic tree. These boats, ingeniously made, and the result of almost incredible labor, would accommodate forty or fifty warriors. It was Lolonois’s intention to rob the Indians of some of their boats, send them back to the island for the pirates who were left behind, and then, with his whole party, to ascend the river in an invincible fleet.

Lolonois set sail, and in a short time reached the mouth of the St. John’s River. But the Indians, who had fled from the island, had spread the news, all along the coast, of the arrival of the terrible pirates. Spaniards and Indians were thus influenced to combine to meet them wherever they might land. Their progress in building their vessel had been carefully watched by spies, who effectually concealed themselves from sight.

As Lolonois and his party entered the river they expected to take the inhabitants by surprise, and had not the slightest idea of being surprised themselves. But their vessel had been watched as it approached. There was a pleasant sheltered cove surrounded by the luxuriant and magnificent growth of the tropics. It could not be doubted that this spot would be selected for their landing-place. Nature had decked it with the charms of Eden. Here a well-armed band of Spaniards and Indians posted themselves in ambuscade. Palm-trees and cocoanut-trees rose gracefully around them. Golden oranges and lemons hung profusely from orchards which God had planted and cultivated. Birds of every variety of brilliant plumage flitted from bough to bough. All the sights and sounds of nature seemed to say that God had made this for a happy world; that his children might live here in fraternal love, surrounded by abundance.

The pirates cast anchor in the lovely cove, where the glittering sand could be seen fathoms deep, beneath the water of crystal clearness. They had several small boats. All were impatient to reach the land. Scarcely had their boats touched the beach, and the men were clustered together in landing, when the Eden-like scene of peace and loveliness, was changed into an earth-like scene of noise and tumult and smoke and groans and blood.

There was a sudden discharge of musketry from the surrounding thickets within half gun-shot. The Spaniards had armed the Indians and taught them to take unerring aim. Both Spaniards and savages united in the most hideous yells to appal the pirates with an idea of their superior numbers. Rapidly the unseen foe continued the discharge of the murderous bullets. Scarcely a minute elapsed ere many were dead, weltering in their blood. Others were severely wounded. And still the pitiless storm of leaden hail swept through the group, crashing bones and tearing nerves, and still the yells of the invisible assailants resounded through the forest. There was not a breath of air. The sulphurous smoke settled down, half concealing the awful spectacle of blood and death.

Even the demoniac pirates were so panic-stricken that they dared not by a charge rush into the very jaws of destruction. Every instant their comrades were dropping. There was no time for thought. Those not yet struck leaped into the boats and pushed from the shore, leaving the dying and the dead in the water and upon the sand. Still the pelting storm pursued them till they were beyond gun-shot reach.

Lolonois, the greatest villain of them all, escaped unharmed. Did God preserve him that he might drain to the dregs the cup of mental and bodily misery which he had so often presented to the lips of others? In view of what he had yet to endure, he might indeed have deemed it one of the richest of mercies had a bullet pierced heart or brain, and laid him instantly with the dead.

The wretch had sufficient intelligence to perceive that he was ruined. There was no longer any hope of ravaging Nicaragua. His provisions were exhausted. He had no doubt that the whole coast was armed against them. As by lightning-bolts he had lost nearly one-half of his crews. Desponding, starving, he divided his company into two bands, to sail where they could, to save themselves from perishing by hunger.

Lolonois, with thirty or forty men ran along the coast toward South America, till they reached the region of Carthagena. They were few and feeble, and feared to land. The atrocities committed by the pirates were everywhere known. Upon every league of the coast either the Spaniards or the Indians were watching for their approach, ready to give the general alarm, and to summon all who could be rallied to repel them.

Their water-casks were empty. They must obtain fresh water or perish of thirst. Having passed the Gulf of Darien, he ventured to land, taking his whole force with him. It so chanced, or Providence so ordered it, that he landed on the territory of one of the fiercest tribes of Indians known in all that region. They were called Bravos. The Spaniards had never been able to subdue them. These fierce and cunning savages surrounded the pirates and shot down or captured the whole band. Still not a bullet struck Lolonois. He was reserved for another doom. Most of the captured pirates were burned alive. But the savages thought that too merciful a death for the leader of the band.

They bound him to a tree. Hour after hour, according to their custom, they tortured him, being careful to prolong his sufferings by not piercing any vital point. Every device of savage ingenuity was resorted to, which might extort agony from his quivering nerves. There was no one to pity. Even humanity says he merited it all. At last the savages, howling in frenzied merriment around him, and raising new shouts whenever they could force from him new shrieks of agony, weary with the demoniac pastime, hewed off one of his arms and threw it into the fire. They then hewed off the other and committed it to the flames. The same was done with his legs. Then his head was cut off, and with his memberless body was consumed to ashes. Such was the earthly life, and such the earthly death of Francis Lolonois. We say the earthly life. There is another life. There is a second death. Lolonois still lives in the spirit-land. What is his character there?

The pirates who remained upon the island, weary of waiting for the boats, were quite in despair. But one morning their eyes were cheered by the sight of a very large ship passing near by. Their signals were seen and the ship hove to. It proved to be a pirate bound for the sack of Carthagena. The captain was delighted to add a hundred desperate fellows to his gang. The pirates, who had now been ten months upon the island, and were in a state of great despondency, destitution, and suffering, were as glad as such wicked men could be in this escape from their miseries, and this new opportunity to renew their ravages.

There were several Carthagenas in the various provinces of the New World. The one they were to attack was in Honduras, on the river Segoria, which empties into Cape Gracios à Dios. Their plan was to cast anchor in the mouth of the river, and ascend the stream in boats. The piratic captain was greatly elated, for he had now at his command between five and six hundred men.

They reached the mouth of the river in safety. A few men were left in charge of the ship. Over five hundred were crowded into the boats. There was no space for storing provisions; neither was it thought necessary. It was supposed that an ample supply of food would be found in the villages on the river banks. But the Indians transmitted intelligence with almost the rapidity of telegraphic dispatches. From village to village the tidings ran.

The Indians, conscious of their inability to contend with the well-armed pirates, fled. They took with them all the food they could. The rest they destroyed. The invaders found themselves reduced almost to starvation. They ate roots and herbs, and even the leaves of the trees. A blazing tropical sun poured its rays down upon their crowded open boats, blistering their skin with the intense heat. Sickness came, with languor, pain, wretchedness. Their own crimes were chastising them with scorpion lashes.

There was but misery in those boats, with universal discontent and oaths and fightings. In their despair they landed, five hundred maddened, starving men, hating themselves and hating each other. They hoped that at a little distance back from the river they might find some villages which had not been abandoned. In this they were disappointed. The natives watched them closely, and fled before them.

They commenced a retreat back to the ship. Many died. Many fell by the wayside and were captured by the savages. The Indians pursued them, watching every opportunity to strike a blow. They were too weak to resist. They could scarcely wield a paddle or lift a musket. Their starvation and misery was so great that they resolved to kill and devour the first Indian they could meet. But this kind of game kept beyond the reach of their balls. They ate their shoes, their leather belts, even the sheaths of their swords.

At length a skeleton band reached the ship. There was but little food there. Still they spread their sails, and disappeared. We hear of them no more.

CHAPTER XII
The Female Pirate, Mary Read

^{Testimony of Charles Johnson. – Marriage of Mary Read’s Mother. – Singular Adventure. – Reasons for Disguising her Daughter. – Early Training of Mary as a Boy. – She Enlists on board a Man-of-war. – The Character she Developed. – Enters the Army. – Skill and Bravery. – Falls in Love with a Fleming. – Reveals her Sex. – The Marriage. – Happy Days. – Death of her Husband. – Adversity. – Resumes Male Attire.}

In writing the account of Captain Kidd and other conspicuous pirates of his day, we have had occasion to refer to many ancient documents. In their examination we have come across numerous incidents, extraordinary in their character. Among these are the well-accredited careers of two female pirates, Mary Read and Anne Bonny. Their lives illustrate the common remark that fact is often stranger than fiction. We are mainly indebted, for the wild and wondrous story of their adventures, to the narrative of Captain Charles Johnson. The second edition of his valuable history of the pirates now lies before me. It was published in London, in the year 1724. In the preface to this work the writer says:

“As to the lives of our two female pirates, we must confess they may appear a little extravagant, yet they are nevertheless true. But as they were publicly tried for their piracies, there are living witnesses enough to justify what we have laid down concerning them. It is certain that we have produced some particulars which were not publicly known. The reason is we were more inquisitive into the circumstances of their past lives than other people who had no other design than that of gratifying their own private curiosity. If there are some incidents and turns in their stories, which may give them a little the air of a novel, they are not invented or contrived for that purpose. It is a kind of reading this author is but little acquainted with. But as he himself was exceedingly diverted with them, when they were related to him, he thought they might have the same effect on the reader.”

A young girl in one of the seaports in England, about one hundred and seventy-five years ago, married a sailor. Not many months after their marriage the sailor left home for a distant voyage, and never returned. She never knew whether he deserted her, or whether he died far away. When he sailed she was expecting soon to become a mother. She resided with her husband’s relatives. In due time the child was born, and proved to be a boy.

The mother was a young, light, trifling girl, of fair reputation, and not very careful habits, who ere long found that she was about to become a mother again. As the months advanced, in order to conceal her shame, she took leave of her husband’s relatives, informing them that she was going to visit her own friends at some distance in the country. Her little boy, who accompanied her, was then not a year old.

Soon after her departure her son died; and she, ere long, gave birth to another child, who proved to be a girl. The mother remained away four years. In the mean time she had very little communication with her former relatives; and they had no knowledge of the death of her son, or of the birth of her daughter. Her husband’s mother was still living. She was in comfortable circumstances, though aged and infirm, with impaired vision. The mother of the little girl thought that if she could pass her child upon the aged mother of her husband, as his son, whom she had seen and loved, the child would be liberally provided for. But the changing of a girl into a boy seemed to be an insuperable difficulty. She, however, dressed the child up as a boy, and presented it to her mother-in-law as her husband’s son. No one suspected the deception. The good old woman embraced it cordially, and was anxious to adopt it as her own, promising amply to provide for it.

But the cunning mother declared that it would break her heart to part with the child that she could not be separated from it. It was, however, agreed that the child should reside with the mother, while the supposed grandmother should allow a crown a week for its maintenance. The child was thus brought up as a boy. The mother watched over her with the utmost vigilance, instructing her to guard the secret of her sex with the greatest possible care.

At length the grandmother died: the little property vanished, and the mother and child were in a situation of much destitution. The child was now thirteen years of age, bright, well formed, and good looking, with a thoroughly boyish character. There was a French lady, in the neighborhood, who took the child into her service, as page and footboy. The feminine nature was soon entirely swallowed up in manly yearnings and desires.

She was bold and strong, and developed a roving disposition and a love for wild adventures. We are not informed of her masculine name. Her feminine name was Mary. For convenience’ sake we will call her Frank, during the period of her disguise. Frank enlisted on board a man-of-war, and served in the capacity of a sailor, energetically and successfully, for several months. No one was more nimble in running up the shrouds, or in taking in reefs when the majestic fabric was tossed like a bubble upon the gigantic waves.

Soon weary of this employment, Frank, apparently a graceful, well-built boy of nineteen, enlisted in the army. Shouldering a musket, and very rapidly becoming a proficient in military drill, she fell into the line and accompanied a regiment of foot to Flanders. She was in several severe battles. It is said that in time of action, no one of the regiment conducted with more reckless bravery. She seemed to lose all consciousness of danger, and, if we may so express it, in a state of frenzy which rendered her calm by its very intensity, was as regardless of shells, cannon-balls, and bullets, as though they had been snowflakes.

She would certainly have been promoted could merit have secured that honor. But in mercenary England, at that time, no commission could be obtained but such as was purchased with gold. Ever consumed by restless desires, Frank, ere long, succeeded in exchanging the infantry service for a situation in a regiment of horse. Here Frank’s lithe and graceful figure showed to great advantage. There was not in the company a bolder rider, a more dexterous manager of the war-horse than she.

Even the steed she strode seemed conscious that he bore a more than ordinarily precious burden. There was something in the gentle tones of her voice, and in her caressings, which the proud horse seemed to recognize, ever welcoming her approach with his neighings. The officers greatly admired Frank, and felt a strange kind of interest in the unboastful yet chivalric heroism he displayed in several bloody engagements.

The old Latin maxim hath it, “Amor omnia vincit,” Love conquers all things. It so happened that there was in the ranks a comrade, ever riding by the side of Frank, who was a very handsome young Fleming, about twenty-three years of age. He was a gentle, lovable fellow, and equally brave as his gentle, lovable comrade, for whom he formed a very strong friendship. He slept in the same tent, and by the side of Frank. They were ever together helping each other.

The girl nature of Frank could not resist all this. She fell desperately in love with the fair-faced, flaxen-haired Flemish boy. Whenever the young Fleming was ordered out upon any party, Frank insisted upon accompanying him; and the more desperate the adventure, the more resolute were her importunities to share the peril with him. It was observed that frequently Frank would rush into the greatest danger, simply that she might be near her friend, even when she could render him no assistance.

This extraordinary devotion of Frank to her comrade the Fleming, attracted the attention of the whole company. As no one suspected, in the slightest degree, her disguise, it was supposed that there must be a vein of insanity in the nature of the quiet, retiring, handsome soldier boy.

One morning, in her tent, she made known to her fellow soldier that she was a woman. The Fleming was speechless with astonishment. Here, then, was the secret of the wild devotion that had led her to expose her life recklessly wherever his own had been in peril.

The strangeness of the situation added to its romance. From being a warm friend he became a devoted lover. As his memory went back to the many scenes of danger they had together faced, and the cool bravery she had shown, he could not but see that here was a helpmeet worth having. Mary was instinctively proud. Though for years she had led the rough life of the camp with all its hardships, she was no whit less a true woman. She was more than ready to be wooed and won as a wife. But no lady in the parlor of home could be more modest and reserved in receiving the addresses of a lover, than was Mary in her intercourse with the lover who shared her tent. Her good sense taught her that if she would secure and maintain his love, she must, by indubitable proof, win his highest confidence and respect.

Strange as this story may appear to the reader there seems to be no reason to doubt its accuracy. The young Fleming urged her to become his wife. To this proposal she did not long hesitate to accede. They plighted their mutual faith. The campaign soon ended. The regiment went into winter quarters. The two lovers united their purses, and purchased a woman’s wardrobe as the bridal outfit for Frank. She assumed her new garb, and announced her sex to her amazed fellow-soldiers.

These strange tidings created great excitement an the camp. They were publicly married. A great crowd attended the espousals. Many of the officers assisted in the ceremony, and the bride received many presents. There was a general contribution among all her comrades to raise a sum to assist her in commencing housekeeping. Frank had been a universal favorite, and had secured the esteem of all.

Being thus comfortably established, they both had a desire to quit the service. The circumstances were so romantic and peculiar that they found no difficulty in obtaining their discharge. They then established themselves in Flanders, in a restaurant or eating house. Their little inn, kept with British neatness, was near the Castle of Breda, and was known far and wide by the name of its sign, “The Three Horse Shoes.” They had a large run of custom, and were particularly patronized by the officers of the army.

They were very happy. But prosperity, in this world, does not long shine upon any one. Peace came. The army was dispersed. There were no longer any guests at “The Three Horse-Shoes;” and Mary’s husband was taken sick, and died. She was left childless and without any means of support. She had been trained to the pursuits of manhood. She was a young widow, but little more than twenty years of age. As a woman, she knew not in what direction to turn to obtain a living. Only for a few months had she assumed the character of a woman, and worn the garb of a woman. All the rest of her years she had worn the dress and followed the pursuits of a man. As a man, there were many opportunities opening before her, and all congenial ones, for obtaining a support.