Mompox and I rose early, sought the Lord’s blessing on what we feared might be our last day on this earth, and started up a steep hill while we still had remnants of energy. As I struggled with my head bent forward to keep my empty belly snug in its growling pain, Mompox cried: ‘Ned! Oh, Ned!’ And when I looked up I saw the immense expanse of the South Sea stretching infinitely out to where the sky became almost black. Gentle waves no higher, it seemed, than a few inches broke onto the beach in endless dimension and glory. There was no sign of the Panamá that Morgan had described to us, only this vast ocean stretching onward beyond the imagination.
Then from behind me came a cry: ‘Look! Panamá!’ and I turned toward a direction I had not attended, where I saw the gleaming city that was going to make us rich. I could detect many churches and the stately tower of a cathedral, and houses innumerable crammed with the things we sought. And in the bay before the city, more than a dozen ships, some of them galleons of enormous size bringing north the silvery riches of Peru. Mompox and I knelt to give thanks, for in that city there would have to be food.
As they descended they came upon a valley containing a quantity of cows, bulls, horses, goats and asses. Butchering the animals hastily, they started great fires for barbecuing, but many, including Mompox and Ned, could not wait for the meat to cook. As soon as it began to smoke they grabbed it from the brands and began eating, the blood spilling down their fronts as they gorged themselves.
On the tenth day since their capture of the fort at the Chagres, Admiral Morgan and his replenished men were ready to launch their attack on Panamá, whose numerous defenders awaited them in battle order on a flat plain before their city. In addition to trained troops, able cavalry and strong leadership, the Spaniards had a secret weapon in which they placed much reliance: two immense herds of wild bulls to be released simultaneously against the pirates at a propitious moment. With a cry of ‘Viva el Rey!’ the cavalry started the charge, reinforced by valiant foot soldiers, and for two hours the battle raged, with the Spaniards unable to break the dogged ranks of the invaders, who knew that if they lost this fight, their days in Spanish prisons would be hellish and short.
At the start of the third hour the Spaniards released their wild bulls, twelve hundred in each herd, left flank and right. They rushed straight at the pirates, heard the noise of battle, stampeded, and doubled back right into the Spaniards, who, in total confusion, retreated pell-mell toward the city, with Morgan’s men roaring after them.
Morgan’s entry into Panamá was bitterly contested, and so many of his men lost their lives that a rage began to consume him. When he found that fleeing soldiers and civilians had taken refuge in ditches, hoping to surrender after the fury had passed, he ordered his men to shoot them all, men and women alike, and not a prisoner was taken. Inside the gates he came upon a large group of nuns and monks, and in his blind fury, he shouted: ‘They’re about to attack!’ and he led his men in a charge which slaughtered them indiscriminately.
His rage intensified even more when he gained the city and found that from the huge warehouses along the seafront all silver had been evacuated, and from the fabulously rich monasteries and churches all embellishments had vanished. Morgan had won a tremendous victory against huge odds, but he gained only the shell of a city. Its treasures had escaped him.
In a fury that now knew no bounds and recognized none of the limits of decency, he turned Panamá over to the pillage of his sailors, and after they had rampaged for several days he ordered his men to set the city afire. During the four weeks he and his men remained there the endless flames raged, until everything was consumed. Churches, monasteries, homes, warehouses—all were destroyed in one consuming blaze. Only the rock-built tower of the cathedral remained to mark where this splendid crossroads city had been.
In the meantime, Morgan’s men, enraged by the absence of the wealth they had suffered so much to get, went about capturing as many citizens as they could find and putting them to the torture to make them reveal their hiding places. Both Will Tatum and Mompox participated in seeking out the fugitives and then subjecting them to the refined tortures the pirates had perfected in earlier raids. They used the rack, fire, the horrible woolding, dismemberment, rape, and when their patience ran out, murder. The sack of Panamá accounted for some four hundred soldiers dead on the battlefields, many times that number of civilians slain in the interrogations.
This time Ned did not participate in chasing down those in hiding; instead, he was given charge of the interrogations. It became his duty to attempt to ferret out where the riches of Panamá were hidden, and because he shared in the disappointment of his mates, and knowing that if they did not uncover the hidden treasures they would return to Port Royal with little reward for their days of battle and starvation, he became a ruthless interrogator. When women refused to reveal family secrets, he had no compunction in shouting to his assistants: ‘Ask her again,’ and the torture would be escalated until the prisoner sometimes died there in the improvised room in which Ned worked.
Among those captured was a man of obvious importance and considerable wealth, found by Tatum and Mompox during a raid far from the city. When he delivered him for questioning, Will said: ‘He had three menservants who gave their lives protecting him. Mompox and me, we had to kill them. This one knows something.’
No one ever learned who he was, and Ned began to think that he might be a member of some religious order. Finally, after torments that few could have withstood, the man broke into demonic laughter: ‘You damned fools! You idiots! Bring Morgan here and I’ll reveal everything,’ and when Morgan hurried to the questioning room, the prisoner, lashed to the rack, looked at him with the infinite contempt of a dying man: ‘You great ass! You posturing general without a grain of sense!’
‘Ask him where it’s hidden!’ Morgan shrieked, and when Ned repeated the question, the Spaniard said: ‘You had it in your grasp, Morgan. It was all there, two boat lengths from shore when you roared into our city … our beautiful city.’ For a moment it seemed that the man was going to weep, not from pain but from sorrow over the burning of his city, so Morgan told the men working the rack: ‘Tighten it,’ and after the man screamed involuntarily, he said with infuriating calm: ‘Before you came I ordered all the treasures in Panamá—plate from the churches, bullion from the warehouses, great treasures from the monasteries and official buildings, everything, a pirate’s dream of wealth … I placed it in that little galleon you saw when you stormed our city.’ He gasped, for speaking was a painful effort with death so near. ‘But you, Morgan, you utter fool, you jackass. When you came in you allowed your men to revel and get drunk and rape and burn churches. What a pitiful general. And all the while the tremendous treasure you sought was within your reach …’ Taut ropes prevented him from raising his head, so he dropped his voice to a whisper, causing Morgan to bend forward to hear where the treasure had fled, whereupon the dying man spat full in his face.
‘Tighten the ropes!’ Morgan shouted, and slowly the man was torn apart.
The rape and burning of Panamá occupied Morgan from 28 January to 24 February, exactly four weeks, and when he and his men were satiated with the desolation they had caused, they marched almost empty-handed back to the headwaters of the Chagres River, down which they sped in the canoas they had left behind a month earlier. During the trip Ned had ample opportunity to study his commander, for Morgan rode in his canoa and Ned had several occasions to talk with him. Morgan never deviated from the conclusion he had reached when first alerted to the fact that somehow the riches of Panamá had eluded him: ‘It was a noble effort. If we’d done nothing but reduce that fearful fort, it would have been a triumph. English vessels can use this river in the campaigns ahead. And the sacking of their great silver port! When the King of Spain hears what we did these weeks he’ll tremble in his bed.’ Actually, the new king was a ten-year-old near-idiot whose inadequacy marked the end of Hapsburg rule in Spain, the substitution of the French Bourbons, and
the decline of Spanish power throughout the world and especially in the Caribbean.
Morgan, of course, knew nothing of these European matters: ‘A man does what he can, Ned, and there’ll be spoils enough. Not lavish, but enough.’ As to his carelessness in allowing the treasure ship to escape when he had it almost within his fingers: ‘At Porto Bello and Maracaibo, we had good luck we didn’t deserve; at Panamá, bad luck we did deserve. Did you say you took part in all three raids? If you saved your shares, the average won’t be trivial.’
As their boat passed the place where they had found the leather bags which they ate, Morgan laughed: ‘A couple of days without meat never hurt any man. Tightens up his belly.’ But Ned had to speak: ‘It was ten days, sir,’ and the famous admiral grew sober: ‘Yes, and at seven or eight I wondered if I could go on, but at nine and ten when I began to smell the sea …’ He stared at the banks of the river that had been so inhospitable: ‘I’d not like to make that trip again … well, not that way. But you and I’ll be making other good trips in our day, that we will.’
Ned treasured these conversations with Morgan, for in them the great admiral displayed a warmth and understanding of his people that was otherwise not visible. In action he seemed a remorseless man willing to sacrifice anything, any human life, to achieve his brutal aims, and the Spaniards he had caused to die on his three culminating trips were uncountable, many as a result of fair and open military action, about the same number during interrogations regarding their hidden wealth, real or supposed. But in the closing days of this extraordinary expedition he proved himself to be a most extraordinary man whose fame, Ned thought, would reverberate throughout the Caribbean as long as men loved the sea and the heroic actions possible thereon.
As San Lorenzo became visible, that remnant whose reduction had cost so many lives, Ned felt driven to let Morgan know how much he admired him: ‘Admiral, my father died when I was too young to know him. After these adventures with you, I’ll always think of you as the kind of father I wish I’d known,’ and Morgan, only thirty-six years old at the time, said gruffly: ‘I’ve watched you, Ned. You’re a real man. I’d be proud to have a son like you.’
But Ned was to change his opinion of Admiral Morgan; his assessment came in the opening pages of an extensive log he kept of events which transpired after the expedition returned to the fort at San Lorenzo and the sailors prepared to reboard their ships for the return to Port Royal. Rendered into acceptable English, with its arbitrary spellings clarified, it reads:
LOG OF A BUCCANEER
TUE 14 MARCH 1671: One of the darkest days of my life. For all these months my uncle Will Tatum and I have been following Captain Morgan like puppy dogs, listening to him boast how he would bring us home ‘not hundreds but thousands.’ Well, this morning he gathered his crew under three big trees and cried: ‘Search all!’ and we stripped to nothing, and each man searched the clothing of someone else, every pocket and seam, so that coins and jewels, even the tiniest pieces of value were thrown into the common pot. The trunks of what little treasure we had carried from Panamá were unloaded so that all could see, and when every item stood before us, Captain Morgan started the division: ‘This to you and you, and two shares to the ship captains and four shares to me.’ On he went till the last Spanish peso had been distributed, and then he did a bold thing. Throwing off all his garments but his small clothes, he cried: ‘Search me too!’ and nothing was found secreted. ‘Is this all we get?’ Will cried, and the disappointment in his voice encouraged Mompox and the others to cry: ‘Where is the wealth you promised?’ until there was a general commotion which might have turned into a riot, except that Captain Morgan bellowed: ‘Be quiet, you sheep! We missed the big treasure at Panamá but each of you has his fair share of what we did get.’ It was a pitiful eleven pounds, seven shillings each. ‘You’ve robbed us!’ men began to shout, and if Captain Morgan had not signaled the captains to gather about him, he might have been injured.
WED 15 MARCH: All last night Captain Morgan slept in his tent with men guarding him, and he was wise to do so, because I for one wanted to kill him. Sailors who had sailed and fought with him for more than three years had little for their pains, and in their bitterness started rumors that he had stolen much gold and great boxes of coins, but where he had hidden them no man could say. As for me, I think he smuggled them aboard his ship that stands offshore. I told Will about this, and he said: ‘Let’s search it now,’ but Captain Morgan’s men, well armed, kept us away from the small boats we would need to sail out to the ship.
THU 16 MARCH: Damn his dirty eyes, damn his fat mustaches, damn his goatee, and damn his flowered jacket. Today, before most of us on shore were awake, Captain Henry Morgan rowed secretly to his ship, upped anchor, and slipped away from us before we could prevent him. He sneaked out with thousands or even millions of our pesos and untold quantities of gold bars which he had withheld from an honest sharing. When I shouted to Will: ‘There he goes!’ Will ran down to the shore and screamed: ‘I hope your magazine explodes! I hope a great whale overturns you!’ Mompox and some sailors jumped into their boats and tried to overtake him, but Captain Morgan, knowing chase was futile, stood on the stern of the vessel, laughed at them, and ordered his gunner to fire two parting salutes, which rattled the branches over our heads. In this infuriating way I finished my buccaneering duty with Captain Henry Morgan and his Letters of Marque and Reprisal.
FRI 17 MARCH: When our furies cooled, Uncle Will collected some forty men he trusted, and reasoned: ‘Let’s forget this morning. We’ve been tricked by a master. I say let’s be real buccaneers. Let’s march back across the isthmus, capture a treasure ship, sack what’s left of Panamá, and return home as God allows.’ Every man he approached was in a mood to try this venture, for we all knew that we had the force and courage to do as Will proposed: ‘Buccaneers like to have a captain they can trust, and I think we should all vote for McFee.’ When we cheered the suggestion, Will and Mompox fired a salute and announced ‘election unanimous,’ and forty-six fighting men shouted ‘Halloo.’ Fifteen Indians, including a Meskito named David who had proved his skill at both fishing and carpentering, begged us to let them come along, as did nineteen black slaves who did not want to sail back to harsh masters in the sugar fields of Jamaica. And of course I insisted that Mompox join us. So we have a party of eighty-one, every man a killer if required.
SAT 18 MARCH: I am writing this on the trail back to the South Sea. Never have I witnessed as much effort as I did yesterday. Some of our men collected a group of Indian canoas, long and spacious, into which we piled all the guns, pikes and powder we could gather from the ships that had chosen to return to Jamaica. And since we remembered how we had starved on the first trip, we wanted to take all the food we could, but some of the sailors who were afraid to join us tried to keep food from us, so Will shot one of them and we had no more trouble. I took from one of our ships two lengths of hollowed bamboo, sealed at the ends, in which I would keep my pens and papers, for I wanted to keep an honest account of how we performed without Captain Morgan. On this first day we did well, coming at least fifteen English miles up the river.
TUE 28 MARCH: We rose early, sought the Lord’s blessing on His day, and marched only a few miles, with me and Mompox in the lead, when I saw once more the immense expanse of the South Sea. How different it looked this time! When I saw it last from this hilltop we were going to sack Panamá, turn around, and go home rich men. This time we intend capturing us a ship and setting forth upon that vast ocean to seek the opposite shore, if there is one. And when I turned to look at the ruins of where Panamá City used to be, I saw two things, one promising, the other not. The Spaniards had reclustered about their cathedral, so they were conveniently gathered for plucking, and this time we plan to catch their wealth before they hide it. But anchored in the bay were some of the biggest warships I had ever seen. I began to tremble.
WED 5 APRIL: One of the most exciting days of my life, because I proved that I am
a true buccaneer. We rose early and set forth in our eight strongest canoas to do or die in our attempt to break through the cordon of Spanish ships and capture one of the big galleons riding in the harbor. As we approached the fleet, the Spaniards thought to oppose us by throwing many of their sailors and fighting men into three small, fast vessels they call barcas, and these made for us as if they would devour us, which I thought they might. But as they bore down on us, Captain McFee, a true fighting man, shouted: ‘Let them draw nigh!’ and for what I considered a most dangerous waiting period, we withheld our fire. Then, when we could see their faces plainly, we let loose a fusillade of such magnitude and careful aim that we stunned them. They did try to fire back but by now we were upon them, and with great dexterity we leaped from our canoas, boarded their barcas, and began fighting hand-to-hand. In the excitement of battle I forgot my fears and gave a rather good account of myself, but when only two of us tried to force five of them backward into the stern of their barca, they proved too much, and they might have slain me with their brutal pikes had not Mompox leaped to my defense with sword and dagger, killing one of the Spaniards and badly wounding his partner. Before the sun reached the meridian we had become masters of two of the barcas and had sent the third scudding back to safety in the harbor.
Our victory left us with some eighty Spanish prisoners, almost two for every Englishman, far more than we knew what to do with. My uncle, who had conducted himself with a special bravery which gave him the right to speak, wanted to kill them all, and when Captain McFee asked why, he growled: ‘They’re Spaniards, aren’t they?’ McFee would have none of this, so three canoas were brought alongside the barcas which were now ours, and into them the Spaniards were loaded. But as this was being done, my uncle and Mompox went among them, shot those that were badly wounded and tossed their bodies into the sea. The rest could row their way home.