While Raleigh lay in prison, some of the ships of the fleet he had fitted out came back with a Spanish galleon they had taken, so richly laden with costly goods that the whole court was filled with delight. Part of the spoils went to the queen and another part to Raleigh, and when at length he was released from his prison-cell his mind was set on winning more of the American gold. The stories of El Dorado and its marvellous city were then in great vogue, for Berreo had but lately returned from his expedition—with no gold, indeed, but with new tales of marvel he had gathered from the Indians.

It was now the year 1594. Raleigh was but forty-two years of age, in the prime of life and full of activity and energy. His romantic turn of mind led him to a full belief in the stories that floated about, and he grew eager to attempt the brilliant and alluring adventure which Berreo had failed to accomplish. Though the Spaniard had failed, he had opened up what might prove the track to success. Raleigh had sent various expeditions to the New World, but had never crossed the ocean himself. He now decided to seek Guiana and its fairyland of gold.

A small vessel was sent in advance, under command of Raleigh's friend, Jacob Whiddon, to feel the way and explore the mouth of the Orinoco, which was deemed to be the gateway to the golden realm. Whiddon stopped at Trinidad, and found Berreo, then its governor, very kindly and cordial. But, on one pretext or another, the treacherous Spaniard had the English sailors arrested and put in prison, until Whiddon found his crew so small that he was obliged to go back to England without seeing the Orinoco.

Whiddon's report made Raleigh more eager than ever. He believed that Berreo was getting ready to go back to Guiana himself, and was seeking to rid himself of rivals. He hastened his preparations accordingly, and in February, 1595, set sail from Plymouth with a fleet of five well-supplied vessels, taking with him about one hundred gentlemen adventurers in addition to the crews. A number of small and light boats were also taken for use on the rivers of Guiana. Many of their friends came to see the voyagers off, flags floated on all the vessels in the harbor, and Raleigh and his companions, dressed in their best array, stood on the decks, as, with set sails and flying pennons, the stout ships moved slowly away on their voyage of chance and hope.

Raleigh followed the example of the sea-rovers of his day, committing what would now be called piracy on the high seas. Not long had the fleet left the Canary Islands before a Spanish ship was seen and captured. It was quickly emptied of its cargo,—a welcome one, as it consisted of fire-arms. Very soon after a second ship was captured. This was a Flemish vessel, laden with wines. These were taken also, twenty hogsheads of them. About two months out from Plymouth the hills of Trinidad were sighted, and Raleigh's eyes rested for the first time on the shores of that New World in which he had so long taken a warm interest.

Governor Berreo tried to treat Raleigh as he had done his agent, forbidding any of the Indians to go on his ships on peril of death. But they went on board, for all that, and were delighted with the kind treatment they received. They told Raleigh that several of their chiefs had been seized and imprisoned in the town of St. Joseph, and begged him to rescue them. No Englishman of that day hesitated when the chance came to deal the Spaniards a blow, and a vigorous attack was soon made on the town, it being captured, the chiefs set free, and the governor himself made a prisoner.



A TROPICAL BUNGALOW AND PALMS.

Raleigh, while holding the Spaniard as a captive on his flag-ship, treated him with every courtesy, and had him to eat at his own table. Here Berreo, who did not suspect the purpose of the English, talked freely about his former expedition and gave his captor a good deal of very useful information. One thing Raleigh learned was that his ships could not be taken up the Orinoco, on account of the sand-banks at its mouth and its dangerous channels. He therefore felt it necessary to leave the ships at Trinidad and cross to the mainland in the boats he had brought with him.

One hundred men were chosen for the journey, the others being left to guard the fleet. An old galley, a barge, a ship's-boat, and two wherries carried them, and a young Indian pilot, who claimed to be familiar with the coast, was taken along. Trinidad lies at no great distance from the mainland, but stormy weather assailed the voyagers, and they were glad enough to enter one of the mouths of the river and escape the ocean billows. But here new troubles surrounded them, the nature of which Raleigh described later, in his account of the expedition. He wrote:

"If God had not sent us help, we might have wandered a whole year in that labyrinth of rivers, ere we had found any way. I know all the earth does not yield the like confluence of streams and branches, the one crossing the other so many times, and all so fair and large, and so like one another as no man can tell which to take. And if we went by the sun or compass, hoping thereby to go directly one way or the other, yet that way also we were carried in a circle among multitudes of islands. Every island was so bordered with big trees as no man could see any farther than the breadth of the river or length of the branch."

The Indian pilot proved to be useless in this medley of water-ways, and only chance extricated the voyagers from the labyrinth in which they were involved. This chance was the meeting and capturing a canoe with three natives, who became friendly when they found they had nothing to fear from the strange white men. One of them was an old man who knew the river thoroughly, and whom presents and kind words induced to guide them past their difficulties.

Resting that night on a little knoll on the wooded banks of the stream, they were off again early the next morning. The river was still swift and violent, broken here and there with rapids, where they had to land and pull the boats. There were shoals also, which they had much trouble in getting over. And the banks were so crowded with trees and high reeds that they could not land, and were almost stifled from the closeness of the air.

After four hard and weary days of this kind they reached a smoother channel and could proceed more easily. But their work was still far from easy, for the inflowing tidal waters had left them and they had the swift current of the river to breast, while the tropic heat grew more oppressive day by day. It was hard work for the gentlemen rovers in that tropical climate, where the dense forest growth cut off every breath of air and their diminishing bread forced them to be put on short allowance. They began to complain bitterly, and Raleigh had to use all his powers of persuasion to induce them to go on.

Yet the country was in many ways beautiful. Here and there the woods ceased and broad plains spread out, covered with luxuriant herbage, amid which rose at intervals groves of beautiful trees. Graceful deer would come down to the water's edge and gaze fearlessly on the travellers with their big, soft eyes. "On the banks of these rivers," says Raleigh, "were divers sorts of fruits good to eat; flowers, too, and trees of such variety as were sufficient to make two volumes of travels. We refreshed ourselves many times with the fruits of the country, and sometimes with fowls and fish. We saw birds of all colors: some carnation, some crimson, orange, tawny, purple, and so on; and it was unto us a great good passing time to behold them, besides the relief we found by killing some store of them with our fowling-pieces."

The adventurers at length reached an Indian village of which their old guide had told them, and here, after the natives had got over their fright and learned that the strangers meant them no harm, they were very hospitably entertained. Thence they went onward, day after day, seeing many canoes on the river and landing at various villages. One of the canoes contained three Spaniards, who escaped from the effort to capture them, and Raleigh soon learned that the Spaniards had told the natives that the English were robbers and cannibals. To overcome the effect of this story, the greatest care was taken to treat the Indians with kindness and gentleness, and to punish in their presence any of the men who maltreated them. This quickly had its effect, for the news spread that the new-comers were the friends of the red men, and they were rewarded by every attention the natives could bestow on them. Provisions were brought them in profusion,—fish, fowl, and fruit, great roasted haunches of venison, and other viands. Among these were sweet and delicious pineapples of enormous size, "the prince of fruits," as Raleigh called them.

Finally, after they had gone about one hundred and fifty miles up the Orinoco, they reached the point where another great river, the Caroni, empties into it. The country here was more beautiful than they had yet seen, and prosperous Indian villages were numerous on the bordering plains. The natives had heard of the amicable character of the new-comers, and greeted them with great friendliness, doing all they could to show how they trusted and admired them. With one old chief, named Topiawara, Raleigh held many interesting talks and learned from him much about the country and the people. In return he told him about his own country and its great queen, and one day showed him a portrait of Queen Elizabeth, before which the simple natives bowed themselves as if it were the figure of a goddess they saw.

Many days were spent with these people, in hunting, fishing, and exploring, but, ask as they would, they could learn nothing about the land of gold and the marvellous city they had come so far to seek. The old chief told him that Guiana had many fertile plains and valleys and had mines of silver and gold, but the gold-dust king he knew nothing about. Finally, Raleigh decided to go up the Caroni, three parties being sent to explore its vicinity, while he with a fourth rowed up the stream. He had been told of a mighty cataract, which he was very anxious to see, and this was at length reached, after a long struggle with the strong current of the river.

The cataract proved to be a series of giant cascades, ten or twelve in number, in the words of Raleigh, "every one as high above the other as a church tower, which fell with that fury that the rebound of waters made it seem as if it had been all covered over with a great shower of rain. And in some places we took it at first for a smoke that had risen over some great town.

"I never saw a more beautiful country," he continues, "or more lively prospects; hills so raised, here and there, over the valleys; the river winding into divers branches; the plains adjoining all green grass without bush or stubble; the ground of hard sand, easy to march on, either for horses or foot; the birds, towards evening, singing on every tree with a thousand sweet tunes; cranes and herons of white, crimson, and carnation, perching on the river's side; the air fresh, with a gentle, easterly wind; and every stone we stooped to pick up promising either gold or silver by its complexion."

On the return to the junction of the rivers, the land parties had similar stories to tell, and had pieces of golden ore to show, of which they claimed to have found plentiful indications. This story filled the whole party with dazzling hopes. Here, in the rocks at least, were the riches of which they had heard so much. If El Dorado did not exist, here was the native wealth that might well bring it into existence.

The prospectors had done all that lay in their power, and now felt it necessary to return to their ships, taking with them, at his request, the son of the aged chief, who wished him to see England, and perhaps to return at some time to succeed him, with the aid of the valiant English.

We must briefly close the story of Raleigh and his quest. After various adventures, the party reached Plymouth again in August, 1595, and the narrative of their discoveries was read everywhere with the utmost interest.

But many years passed before the explorer could return again. He became engaged in the wars against Spain, and after the death of the queen was arrested for treason by order of James I. and imprisoned for thirteen years. In 1617, twenty-two years after his first expedition, he returned to the Orinoco, this time with a fleet of thirteen vessels.

His release from prison had been gained by bribery and the promise to open a rich mine of gold in Guiana, but the expedition proved a failure. There was a sharp fight with a party of Spaniards at St. Thomas, in which Raleigh's son was killed. As for the gold mine, it could not be found, and the expedition was forced to return with none of the hoped-for wealth to show.

And now Raleigh's misfortunes culminated. He had been sentenced to death for treason in 1603, but had been reprieved. The king had him arrested again on the old charge, and the king of Spain demanded that he should be punished for the attack on St. Thomas in times of peace. James I. did not like Raleigh, and wished to stand well with Spain, so the famous explorer fell a victim to the royal policy and dislike and was beheaded under the old sentence in October, 1618. Since then El Dorado has lain concealed in the mists of legend and romance, though mines of gold have been worked in the region which Raleigh explored.



MORGAN, THE FREEBOOTER, AND THE RAID ON PANAMA.

During the seventeenth century the Spanish Main was beset with a horde of freebooters or buccaneers, as they called themselves, to whose fierce attacks the treasure-ships bound for Spain were constantly exposed, and who did not hesitate to assail the strongholds of the Spaniards in quest of plunder. They differed from pirates only in the fact that their operations were confined to Spain and her colonies, no war giving warrant to their atrocities. Most ferocious and most successful among these worthies was Henry Morgan, a man of Welsh birth, who made his name dreaded by his daring and cruelty throughout the New-World realms of Spain. The most famous among the deeds of this rover of the seas was his capture of the city of Panama, which we shall here describe.

On the 24th of October, 1670, there set sail from the island haunts of the freebooters the greatest fleet which these lawless wretches had ever got together. It consisted of thirty-seven ships, small and large, Morgan's flag-ship, of thirty-two guns, being the largest, and flying the English standard. The men had gathered from all the abiding-places of their fraternity, eager to serve under so famous a leader as Morgan, and looking for rich spoil under a man whose rule of conduct was, "Where the Spaniards obstinately defend themselves there is something to take, and their best fortified places are those which contain the most treasure."



THE CITY OF PANAMA.

Not until they reached the vicinity of the isthmus did Morgan announce to his followers the plan he had conceived, which was to attack the important and opulent city of Panama, in which he expected to find a vast wealth of gold and silver. It was no trifling adventure. This city lay on the Pacific side of the Isthmus of Panama, and could be reached only by a long and toilsome land journey, the route well defended by nature and doubtless by art, while not a man on board the fleet had ever trod the way thither. To supply themselves with a guide the island of St. Catharine, where the Spaniards confined their criminals, was attacked and taken, and three of the convicts were selected for guides, under promise of liberty and reward.

Panama was at that time one of the largest and wealthiest cities in America. It contained some seven thousand houses, one-third the number being large and handsome dwellings, many of them strongly built of stone and richly furnished. Walls surrounded the city, which was well prepared for defence. It was the emporium for the precious metals of Peru and Mexico, two thousand mules being kept for the transportation of those rich ores. It was also the seat of a great trade in negro slaves, for the supply of Chili and Peru. The merchants of the place lived in great opulence and the churches were magnificently adorned, the chief among them being a handsome cathedral. Beautiful paintings and other costly works of art ornamented the principal dwellings, and everything concurred to add to the importance and beauty of the place.

A century earlier Sir Francis Drake had led his men near enough to Panama to behold the distant sea from the top of a high tree. But he had contented himself with waylaying and plundering a mule-train laden with treasure, and in 1670 it seemed the act of madness for a horde of freebooters to attack the city itself. Yet this was what the daring Morgan designed to do.

The first thing to be done was to capture Fort St. Laurent, a strong place on an almost inaccessible hill, near the banks of the Chagres River. Four ships, with four hundred men, were sent against this fort, which was vigorously defended by its garrison, but was taken at length by the expedient of firing the palisades and buildings of the fort—composed of light wood—by means of burning arrows. The assailants suffered heavily, losing more than half their force, while of the garrison only twenty-four were taken, many of the others having leaped from the walls into the river, preferring death to capture by their ferocious foes. From the prisoners it was learned that the people of Panama were not ignorant of Morgan's purpose, and that the threatened city was defended by more than three thousand men.

As the remainder of the fleet drew near, the freebooters, seeing the English flag flying on the fort, manifested their joy by the depths of their potations, getting so drunk, in fact, that they managed to run four of the ships on the rocks at the mouth of the Chagres, among them the admiral's ship. The crews and cargoes were saved, but the vessels were total wrecks, much to Morgan's chagrin.

At length, on the 18th of January, 1671, the march on Panama actually began, with a force of thirteen hundred picked men, five hundred being left to garrison the fort and one hundred and fifty to seize some Spanish vessels that were in the river. The means of conveyance being limited, and the need of marching light important, a very small supply of provisions was taken, it being expected to find an abundance on the route. But in this the raiders were seriously at fault, the Spaniards fleeing with all their cattle and cutting all the growing grain, so that the buccaneers soon found themselves almost destitute of supplies.

The journey was made in boats up the river as far as practicable, five small vessels carrying the artillery. At the end of the second day most of the men were forced to abandon the boats and prosecute their journey on foot. On the third day they found themselves in a marshy forest, which they traversed with difficulty and reached the town of Cedro Bueno. Here they had hoped to find food, but the place was deserted and not a scrap of provisions left.

The affair was now growing very serious, all their food having been consumed and they left in imminent danger of starvation. Many of them were reduced to eat the leaves of the trees in their extremity. They found themselves also benumbed with cold as they spent the night unsheltered on the chilly river-bank. During the next day their route followed the stream, the canoes being dragged along, or rowed where the water was of sufficient depth. The Spaniards still carried away all food from the country before them, the only things they found being some large sacks of hides. These, in their extremity, were used as food, the leather being scraped, beaten, and soaked in water, after which it was roasted. Even then it could not be swallowed without the aid of copious draughts of water.

Only the courage and determination of the chiefs induced the men to go on under such severe privations. The fifth day's journey ended as badly as the previous ones, the only food found being a little flour, fruit, and wine, so small in quantity that Morgan had it distributed among the weaker members of his troop, some of whom were so faint as to seem on the point of death. For the rest of the men there was nothing to eat but leaves and the grass of the meadows.

The feebler men were now put on board the boats, the stronger continuing to travel by land, but very slowly, frequent rests being needed on account of their great exhaustion. It seemed, indeed, as if the expedition would have to be abandoned, when, to their delirious joy, they found a great supply of maize, which the Spaniards by some oversight had abandoned in a granary. Many of them, in their starving condition, devoured this grain raw. Others roasted it wrapped in banana leaves. The supply was soon exhausted, but for a time it gave new vigor to the famished men.

On the following day all the food they found was a sack of bread and some cats and dogs, all of which were greedily devoured; and farther on, at the town of Cruces, the head of navigation on the Chagres, a number of vessels of wine were discovered. This they hastily drank, with the result that all the drinkers fell ill and fancied they were poisoned. Their illness, however, was merely the natural effect of hasty drinking in their exhausted state, and soon left them.

At this point a number of the men were sent back with the boats to where the ships had been left, the force that continued the march amounting to eleven hundred. With these the journey proceeded, the principal adventure being an attack by a large body of Indians, who opposed the invaders with much valor, only retreating when their chief was killed.

About noon of the ninth day a steep hill was ascended, from whose summit, to their delight, the buccaneers beheld the distant Pacific. But what gave them much livelier joy was to see, in a valley below them, a great herd of bulls, cows, horses, and asses, under the care of some Spaniards, who took to flight the moment they saw the formidable force of invaders. Only an utter lack of judgment, or the wildness of panic in the Spaniards, could have induced them to leave this prey to their nearly starved foes. It was an oversight which was to prove fatal to them. Then was the time to attack instead of to feed their ruthless enemies.

The freebooters, faint with famine and fatigue, gained new strength at the sight of the welcome herd of food animals. They rushed hastily down and killed a large number of them, devouring the raw flesh with such a fury of hunger that the blood ran in streams from their lips. What could not be eaten was taken away to serve for a future supply. As yet Panama had not been seen, but soon, from a hill-top, they discerned its distant towers. The vision was hailed with the blare of trumpets and shouts of "victory!" and the buccaneers encamped on the spot, resolved to attack the city the next day.

The Spaniards, meanwhile, were not at rest. A troop of fifty horsemen was sent to reconnoitre, and a second detachment occupied the passes, to prevent the escape of the enemy in case of defeat. But the freebooters were not disturbed in their camp, and were allowed a quiet night's rest after their abundant meal of raw flesh.

The next day Morgan led his men against the city, skilfully avoiding the main road, which was defended by batteries, and passing through a thick and pathless wood. Two hours of this flanking march brought them in sight of the Spanish forces, which were very numerous, consisting of four regiments of the line and nearly three thousand other soldiers. They had with them also a great herd of wild bulls under the charge of Indians and negroes, from which much was hoped in the assault.

Morgan and his men were much discouraged by the multitude and military array of their foes, but nothing remained for them but a desperate fight, and, with two hundred of their best marksmen in front, they descended to the broad plain on which the Spaniards awaited them. They had no sooner reached it than the Spanish cavalry charged, while the bulls were driven tumultuously upon them.

This carefully devised assault proved a disastrous failure. The horsemen found themselves in marshy ground, where they were exposed to a hot and well-directed fire, numbers of them falling before they could effect a retreat. The charge of the bulls, on which so much reliance had been placed, proved an equal failure, and with wild shouts the freebooters advanced, firing rapidly and with an accuracy of aim that soon strewed the ground with the dead.

The Spaniards, driven back by this impetuous charge, now turned the bulls against the rear of their enemy. But many of these had been cattle-raisers and knew well how to act against such a foe, driving them off with shouts and the waving of colored flags and killing numbers of them. In the end, after a battle of two hours' duration, the Spaniards, despite their great superiority of numbers, were utterly defeated, a great many being killed on the field and others in the panic of flight.

But the freebooters had lost heavily, and Panama, a city defended by walls and forts, remained to be taken. Morgan knew that success depended on taking instant advantage of the panic of the enemy, and he advanced without delay against the town. It was strongly defended with artillery, but the impetuous assault of the freebooters carried all before it, and after a three hours' fight the city was in their hands.

The scenes that followed were marked by the most atrocious ferocity and vandalism. The city was given up to indiscriminate pillage, attended by outrages of every kind, and in the end was set on fire by Morgan's orders and burned to the ground, much of its great wealth being utterly consumed through the sheer instinct of destruction.

Fortunately for the people of Panama, the majority of them had sought safety in flight, taking their women and all their portable wealth. In pursuit of those that had fled by water Morgan sent out a well-manned ship, which returned after a two days' cruise with three prizes. It also brought back news that a large galleon, deeply laden with treasure in gold and silver and carrying away the principal women of the town, with their jewels, had escaped. It was poorly manned and defended and for days Morgan made strenuous efforts to discover and capture it, but fortunately this rich prize eluded his grasp.

For three weeks the freebooters occupied the site of the burned city, many of them engaged in searching the ruins for gold and silver, while some, who were discontented with the acts of their leader, conspired to seize the largest ship in the harbor and start on a piratical cruise of their own down the Pacific. This coming to Morgan's ears on the eve of its execution, he defeated it by causing the main-mast of the ship to be cut down, and afterwards by setting fire to all the ships in the harbor.

The return of the freebooters had its items of interest. The booty, consisting of gold, silver, and jewels, was laden on a large number of animals, beside which disconsolately walked six hundred prisoners, men, women, and children, Morgan refusing them their liberty except on payment of a ransom which they could not procure. Some of them succeeded in obtaining the ransom on the march, but the majority were taken to Chagres. From there they were sent in a ship to Porto Bello, a neighboring coast town, Morgan threatening that place with destruction unless a heavy ransom was sent him. The inhabitants sent word back that not a half-penny would be paid, and that he might do what he pleased. What he pleased to do was to carry out his threat of destroying the town.

The final outcome of this frightful raid remains to be told. It demonstrated that Morgan was as faithless to his companions as he was ferocious to his victims. On their way back from Panama he ordered that every man should be searched and every article they had secreted be added to the general store. To induce them to consent he offered himself to be searched first. In the final division, however, of the spoil, which was valued at four hundred and forty-three thousand two hundred pounds weight of silver, he played the part of a traitor, many of the most precious articles disappearing from the store and the bulk of the precious stones especially being added by Morgan to his share.

This and other acts of the leader created such a hostile feeling among the men that a mutiny was imminent, to avoid which Morgan secretly set sail with his own and three other vessels, whose commanders had shared with him in the unequal division of the spoil. The fury of the remaining freebooters, on finding that they had been abandoned, was extreme, and they determined to pursue and attack Morgan and his confederates, but lack of provisions prevented them from carrying this into effect.

Meanwhile, events were taking place not much to the comfort of the freebooting fraternity. An English ship-of-the-line arrived at Jamaica with orders to bring home the governor to answer for the protection he had given "these bloodthirsty and plundering rascals," while the governor who succeeded him issued the severest orders against any future operations of the freebooters.

From this time Morgan withdrew from his career of robbery, content to enjoy the wealth which he had so cruelly and treacherously obtained. He settled in Jamaica, where he was permitted to enjoy in security his ill-gotten wealth. In fact, the British government showed its real sentiment concerning his career by promoting him to high offices and giving him the honor of knighthood. As a result this faithless and cruel pirate bore during the remainder of his life the distinction of being addressed as Sir Henry Morgan.



A DRAMA OF PLUNDER, MURDER, AND REVENGE

A famous story of American history is that which tells of the massacre of the French settlers in Florida by the Spaniards of St. Augustine, and of the signal revenge taken on the murderers by the French chevalier Dominique de Gourgues. There is a parallel tale to tell about Brazil, not so full of the element of romance, yet for all that an interesting story and well worth the telling.

The great Portuguese colony of Brazil, like many of the Spanish colonies, was open to the attacks of buccaneers and of free lances of the seas bearing the flags of various countries of Europe. There was not an important port of the country, except its capital, Rio Janeiro, that escaped attack by hostile fleets, eager for spoil, during the seventeenth century, and early in the eighteenth Rio itself was made the victim of assault. A city of over twelve thousand people, and the gateway to a rich gold-mining country in the rear, its wealth invited a visit from the prize-seekers, though the strength of its population and garrison long kept these away. Its turn for assault came in 1710.

In that year a squadron appeared in the waters outside the harbor on which the people looked with doubt. It flew the French flag, and that standard had not been a welcome visitor in the past. In fact, it was commanded by a daring Frenchman named Duclerc, who was on the seas for spoil. But a look at the strong defences of the harbor entrance, and some exchange of shots, warned him of the perils that would attend an attempt to pass them by force, and he sailed on to a point some forty miles down the coast, where he landed a party of a thousand marines.

His design to attack the city with this small party seemed folly. The governor, Francisco de Castro, had a force of eight thousand Portuguese troops, besides five thousand armed negroes and several hundred Indian bowmen. But he lacked the heart of a soldier, and Duclerc's marines marched like so many buccaneers through the forest for seven days without meeting a foeman. Even when near the city the only enemies in sight were a handful of men led by a friar, who attacked them boldly in defence of his church. After capturing this, the daring French charged into the city in the face of the fire from the forts on the surrounding hills, to which the governor's troops had been withdrawn.

The very boldness of the assault, and the failure of the governor to guard the streets with troops, nearly led to success. Little resistance was made by the few soldiers in the city, and the French traversed the narrow streets until the central square was reached. Here they met their first check from a party of fifty students, who had entered the palace of the governor and fired upon them from the windows. The first French assailants who forced their way in were taken prisoners and tied to the furniture. In the custom-house adjoining was the magazine. Here, as the storekeeper was hastily giving out ammunition, a fellow with a lighted match approached and carelessly set fire to the powder. In a moment the building was blown into the air, and the palace, which the French were still assailing, was set on fire.

The people were now rising, and the several detachments into which the attacking force had divided found themselves fiercely assailed. Duclerc, at the head of the main body, after losing heavily, barricaded himself in a stone warehouse on the quay, round which his foes gathered thickly. While there the bells of the city rang out merrily, a sound which he fancied to be made by his own men, who he thought were thus celebrating their victory. In reality it signified the victory of the Portuguese, who had fallen upon, defeated, and slaughtered one of his detachments. A second detachment, which had entered and begun to plunder the magazine, was set upon by the rabble and completely butchered. Duclerc's defence soon grew hopeless, and he was forced to surrender at discretion. The Portuguese sullied their victory by acts of cruel reprisal, many of the prisoners in their hands being murdered. In all nearly seven hundred of the French were killed and wounded. Six hundred, including the wounded, were taken prisoners, and of these many died through bad treatment in the prisons. Duclerc was murdered some-months after being taken. Soon after the fight the squadron appeared off the port, where its officers, learning of the loss of the assailants, squared their yards and sailed away for France. Thus ended the first act in our tragedy of plunder.

The second act was one of revenge. In France was found a second Dominique de Gourgues to call to a harsh account the murderers of his countrymen. France, indeed, was in a fury throughout when the news came of the inhuman slaughter of its citizens. The man who played the part of De Gourgues was a distinguished and able naval officer named M. de Guay-Trouin. He was moved by a double motive. While hot for revenge, the hope for plunder was an equally inspiring force. And the fame that might come to him with victory added still another motive. The path was made easy for him, for the government gave its approval to his enterprise, and certain wealthy citizens of St. Malo, eager for gain, volunteered the money to fit out the expedition.

It was important to keep the affair secret, and the vessels were fitted out at different ports to avoid suspicion. Yet the rumor that an unusual number of war-vessels were being got ready was soon afloat and reached Portugal, where its purpose was suspected, and a fleet of merchant and war-vessels was hurried to sea with supplies and reinforcements for Rio. The suspicion reached England, also, and that country, then on the side of Portugal, sent out a fleet to blockade Brest, where the vessels of the expedition then lay, and prevent its sailing. But Admiral Trouin was not the man to be caught in a trap, and he hurried his ships out of port before they were quite ready, leaving the British an empty harbor to seal up. The work of preparation was finished at Rochelle, whence the fleet sailed in June, 1711. It consisted of seven line-of-battle ships, their number of guns varying from seventy-four to fifty-six, six frigates, and four smaller vessels, and had on board five thousand picked men,—a formidable force to send against a colonial city.

The powerful fleet made its way safely over the sea, and reached the vicinity of the northern Brazilian port of Bahia on August 27. Trouin had some thought of beginning his work here, but his water-supply was getting low and he felt obliged to hasten on. On the 11th of September he found himself off the Bay of Rio de Janeiro, with the city and its environing hills in full view.

The Portuguese had got ahead of him, the fleet from Lisbon having arrived, giving warning of the danger and reinforcing the garrison. Three forts and eleven batteries defended the narrow-mouthed harbor, within which lay four ships-of-the-line and as many frigates. Had all this force been directed by a man of ability the French might have found entrance to the bay impossible. But Francisco de Castro, the hopeless governor of the year before, was still at the head of affairs, and no man could have played more thoroughly into the hands of the French.

As it chanced, fortune favored the assailants. A heavy fog descended, under cover of which the fleet ran with little damage past the forts and entered the harbor. When the fog rose the Portuguese were dismayed to see their foes inside. Gaspar da Costa, the admiral of their fleet, was known as an able commander, but he was old and in feeble health, and such a panic now assailed him that he ran his ships in haste ashore and set fire to them, leaving to his foes the undisputed command of the harbor. Admiral Trouin had won the first move in the game.

Governor de Castro proved to be as completely demoralized as Admiral da Costa. He had twice as many troops as the French, but not half the courage and ability of his adversary. Fort Villegagnon, one of the chief defences, was blown up by the mismanagement of its garrison, and during the state of panic of the Portuguese Trouin landed about four thousand men, erecting a battery on an island within easy cannon-shot of the city, and occupying a range of hills to the left which gave him command of that section of the place. The governor with his troops looked on from a distance while the French pillaged the adjoining suburb, destitute of tactics that any one could discover unless he proposed to let the French enter the streets and then attack them from the houses.

It was in this way they had been defeated the year before, but Trouin was too old a soldier to be caught in such a trap. He erected batteries on the surrounding hill-slopes till the town was commanded on three sides, while the governor kept the bulk of his forces at a distance, waiting for no one knew what. Trouin had been permitted, with scarcely a blow in defence, to make himself master of the situation, and he needed only to get his guns in place to be able to batter the town to the dust.

He now sent a demand to the governor to surrender, saying that he had been sent by the king of France to take revenge for the murder of Duclerc and the inhuman slaughter of his men. De Castro answered that his duty to his king would not permit him to surrender, and sought to show that the French had been honorably killed in battle and Duclerc murdered by an assassin beyond his control.

A poor affair of a governor De Castro proved, and the French were permitted to go on with their works almost unmolested, the Portuguese occupying hill forts, the fire from which did little harm to the enemy. Trouin had already begun the bombardment of the city, and on receiving the governor's answer he kept his guns at work all night. At the same time there raged a tropical storm of great violence, accompanied by thunders that drowned the roar of the guns, the frightful combination throwing the people into such a state that they all fled in blind terror, the troops in the town with them. In the morning, when Trouin was ready to launch his storming parties, word was brought him that the city was deserted and lay at his mercy. Some of the richest magazines had been set on fire by the governor's order, but otherwise the rich city was abandoned, with all its wealth, to the French.

Of the relics of Duclerc's force, about five hundred remained alive in the city. These do not seem to have been then in prison, but living at large, and they were already abroad and plundering the abandoned city when the French forces entered. They had met good treatment as well as bad. Some of the people had been kind and hospitable to them, and in the sack of the city that ensued the houses of these charitable citizens were marked and left untouched.

Otherwise the sack was general, houses and warehouses being broken open, and quantities of valuable goods which could not be taken off being thrown into the mud of the streets. Now was the opportunity for the Portuguese to attack. Trouin was aware of the danger, but was unable to control his men, and a sudden assault by the garrison might have proved disastrous to the French. But the opportunity was allowed to pass, the governor, in fact, surrendering all his forts and marching his troops a league from the city, where he lay waiting reinforcements from the interior while the French plundered at their leisure.

Trouin was wise enough to know that his position was perilous. He might be overwhelmed by numbers, and it was important to finish his work and get away with little delay. But the plunder of the city was not sufficient for his purpose, and he sent word to the governor that he must ransom it or it would be burned. To make his word good he began by setting fire to the environs.

De Castro, eager to get rid of his foes at any price, offered six hundred thousand cruzadoes. This was refused by Trouin, and to stir up the governor to a better offer, the admiral took his messenger through the city and showed him that he was spoiling everything that fire would not burn. Learning, however, that the expected reinforcements might soon arrive, anxiety induced him to march his men to the front of the Portuguese camp, where he began to negotiate for better terms. The only addition De Castro would agree to was to promise the French a supply of cattle for food, fifteen days being allowed to collect the ransom.

Trouin, knowing well that he had no time to waste, accepted the terms, and none too soon, for shortly afterwards a strong body of reinforcements, led by an able general, entered the Portuguese camp. They came too late, the treaty had been made, and the new general felt bound in honor to make it good. So the ransom was paid, and on the 4th of November the triumphant French set sail, their ships deep laden with the rich plunder of the Brazilian capital and the gold of the governor's ransom.

The return home was not attended with the success of the earlier part of the expedition. Trouin had left Bahia to be visited and plundered on his return, but when he came near it the weather was so stormy that he was obliged to abandon this part of his plan. The storms followed the fleet on its way across the seas, and rose to such a height that two of his ships went to the bottom, carrying down twelve hundred men. One of these was the finest ship of the fleet, and in consequence had been laden with the most valuable booty. Of gold and silver alone it took down with it a weight valued at six hundred thousand livres. A third vessel went ashore and was wrecked at Cayenne. Yet with all these losses, so much wealth was brought home that the speculators in spoil made a profit of ninety-two per cent. on their investment.

The French had won in large measure revenge and plunder, while Trouin had gained his meed of fame. It was now Portugal's time for vengeance, and it was visited principally on the worthless governor to whose cowardice the disaster was due. He had been praised and rewarded for the victory over Duclerc' s expedition—praise and reward which he certainly did not deserve. For very similar conduct he was now deposed and sentenced to degradation and perpetual imprisonment, on the charge of cowardice and lack of judgment. His nephew was banished for life for bad conduct, and a captain who had given up his fort and fled was hung in effigy. There were no others to punish, and Portugal was obliged to hold its hand, France being a foe beyond its reach. Rio had met with a terrible misfortune, from which it took many years to recover, and rarely have the sanguinary deeds of a murderous rabble led to so severe a retribution.



THE WONDERFUL MARCH OF THE FREEBOOTERS

The March of the Ten Thousand, from Babylon to the Black Sea, is one of the famous events of history. The march of the three hundred, from the Pacific to the Atlantic, which we have here to tell, is scarcely known to history at all, yet it was marked by a courage and command of resources as great as those of the ancient Greeks. We think our readers will agree with us when they read this story, taken from the records of the freebooters on the Spanish Main.

After ravaging the settlements of Spain on the Atlantic coasts, various fleets of these piratical adventurers sought the Pacific waters in 1685, and there for several years made life scarce worth living to the inhabitants of the Spanish coast cities. Time and again these were plundered of their wealth, numbers of their ships were taken, and a veritable reign of terror prevailed. As time went on, however, most of these freebooters withdrew, satisfied with their abundant gains, so that, by the end of 1687, only a few of them remained, and these were eager to return with their ill-gotten wealth to their native land.

This remnant of the piratical fraternity, less than three hundred in number, had their head-quarters on an island in the Bay of Mapalla, on the Central American coast. What vessels they had left were in a wretched condition, utterly unfit to attempt the vast sea voyage by way of the Straits of Magellan, and nothing seemed to remain for them but an attempt to cross the continent by way of Nicaragua and Honduras, fighting their way through a multitude of enemies. To the pen of Ravenneau de Lussan, one of the adventurers, we are indebted for the narrative of the singular and interesting adventure which follows.

The daring band of French and English freebooters were very ill provided for the dangerous enterprise they had in view. They proposed to cross an unknown country without guides and with a meagre supply of provisions, fighting as they went and conveying their sick and wounded as best they could. They had also a number of prisoners whom they felt it necessary to take with them, since to set them free would be to divulge their weakness to their enemies. Nature and circumstance seemed to combine against them, yet if they ever wished to see their native lands again they must face every danger, trusting that some of them, at least, might escape to enjoy their spoils.

After questioning their prisoners, they decided to take a route by way of the city of New Segovia, which lies north of the lake of Nicaragua, about one hundred and twenty miles from the Pacific and seventy-five miles from the waters of a river that flows, after a long course, into the Atlantic opposite Cape Gracias-a-Dios. In order to gain further information about the route, sixty men were sent to explore the neighboring country. These advanced till they were near the small city of Chiloteca. Here, worn out by their journey and learning that they were in a thickly settled country, most of the pioneers decided to return. But eighteen of the bolder spirits had the audacity to advance on Chiloteca, a place of perhaps a thousand inhabitants.

Into it they rushed with such ferocious yells and so terrific a fusillade of shots that the frightened inhabitants, taken utterly by surprise, fled in mortal terror, leaving the place to its captors. These quickly seized a number of horses, and made haste to retreat on their backs, hotly pursued by the Spaniards, who soon discovered to what a handful of men they had surrendered their city.

On receiving the report of their scouts, the freebooters determined on the desperate venture. They had little to convey except their spoil, which, the result of numerous raids, was valued at about one million dollars. It chiefly consisted of gold and jewels, all heavier valuables, even silver, being left in great part behind, as too heavy to carry. The spoil was very unequally owned, since the gambling which had gone on actively among them had greatly varied the distribution of their wealth. To overcome the anger and jealousy which this created among the poorer, those with much to carry shared their portions among their companions, with the understanding that, if they reached the Antilles in safety, half of it should be returned. As for the prisoners, it was decided to take them along, and make use of them for carrying the utensils, provisions, and sick.

On the 1st of January, 1688, these freebooters, two hundred and eighty-five in number, with sixty-eight horses, crossed in boats from their island refuge to the main-land and began their march. Their ships had been first destroyed, their cannon cast into the sea, and their bulkier effects burned. Divided into four companies, with forty men in front as an advance guard, they moved forward into a land of adventure and peril.

It was soon found that the people expected and had prepared for their coming. Trees had been felled across the roads and efforts made to obstruct all the foot-paths. Provisions had been carried away, and the dry herbage of the fields was set on fire as they advanced, almost suffocating them with the heat and smoke. This was done to hinder their march until the Spaniards had completed a strong intrenchment which was being built at a suitable place on the route.

Ambuscades were also laid for them. On the eighth day of their march they fell into one of these at Tusignala, where three hundred Spaniards lay concealed on the ground and fired into their ranks. Though these were dispersed by a fierce charge, they followed the freebooters closely, annoying them from the shelter of woods and thickets. The next day a still larger ambuscade was laid, which, fortunately for the freebooters, was discovered and dispersed in time, the fleeing Spaniards leaving their horses behind.

Two days later New Segovia was reached. Here the buccaneers expected a severe engagement, and hoped to gain a supply of provisions. In both they were mistaken; the inhabitants had decamped, carrying all food with them. Their prisoners, who had served them as guides to this point, knew nothing of the country beyond, but they succeeded in taking a new prisoner who was familiar with the further route.

The country they were passing through was mountainous and very difficult. Steep acclivities had constantly to be climbed, narrow paths on the borders of deep chasms to be traversed, and rapid slopes to be descended. The nights were bitterly cold, the mornings were darkened by thick fogs, and their whole route was attended with danger, discomfort, and fatigue.

New Segovia lay in a valley surrounded on all sides by mountains, one of which had to be ascended immediately on leaving the town. The next day's dawn found them on its summit, with a valley far below them, in which, to their joy, they beheld a large number of animals which they took to be oxen. Their joy was dissipated, however, when the scouts they sent out came back with the information that these animals were horses, saddled and bridled, and that a series of formidable intrenchments had been built in the valley, rising like terraces, one above another, and carried to the mountains on each side, so as completely to close the route.

There seemed no way to avoid these defences. On one side of the mountain flowed a river. A small eminence, surrounded by breastworks, commanded the only passage which the freebooters could follow. The whole country round was thick forest, through whose rock-guarded demesnes not the slightest indication of a path could be seen. Yet to attack those works in front promised quick and utter defeat, and if they wished to avoid destruction they must find some way to outwit their foes. It was decided that the forest presented less dangers and difficulties than the fortified road, and that the only hope of safety lay in a flank movement which would lead them to the rear of the enemy.

During that day active preparations were made for the proposed movement. The three hundred Spaniards who had ambushed them some days before still hung upon their rear. Their horses, sick, and prisoners were therefore left in an enclosed camp, barricaded by their baggage-vehicles and guarded by eighty of their number. As a means of impressing the enemy with their numbers and alertness they kept up camp-fires all night, repeated at intervals the rolls upon the drum, relieved the sentinels with a great noise, and varied these signs of activity with cries and occasional discharges of musketry.

Meanwhile, as soon as the shades of evening descended, the remainder of the freebooters, some two hundred in number, began their march, following the route indicated by a scout they had sent to examine the forest. The difficulties of that night journey through the dense wood proved very great, there being numerous steep rocks to climb and descend, and this needed to be done with as little noise as possible. Daybreak found the adventurers on a mountain elevation, from which they could see the Spanish intrenchments below them on the left. The greatest of their impediments had been surmounted, but there were difficulties still to be overcome.

Fortunately for them a thick mist rose with the morning light, which, while it rendered their downward passage critical, served to conceal them from the enemy below. As they came near the works the heavy tread of a patrol guided them in their course, and the morning prayers of the Spaniards were of still more advantage in indicating their distance and position. The freebooting band had reached the rear of the hostile army, composed of five hundred men, who were so taken by surprise on seeing their ferocious enemy rushing upon them with shouts and volleys, from this unlooked-for quarter, that they fled without an attempt at defence.

The other Spaniards behaved more courageously, but the appearance of the buccaneers within the works they had so toilsomely prepared robbed them of spirit, and after an hour's fight they, too, broke and fled. The trees they had felled to obstruct the road now contributed to their utter defeat, and they were cut down in multitudes, with scarce an attempt at resistance. We can scarcely credit the testimony of the freebooters, however, that their sole losses were one killed and two wounded. The success of the advance party was equalled by that of the guard of armed men left in the camp, who, after some negotiations with the troop of Spaniards in their rear, made a sudden charge upon them and dispersed all who were not cut down.

That the freebooters were as much surprised as gratified by the signal success of their stratagem need scarcely be said. One of the panics which are apt to follow a surprise in war had saved them from threatened annihilation. They learned, however, the disquieting fact that six miles farther on was another strong intrenchment which could not be avoided, the country permitting no choice of roads. In their situation there was nothing to do but to advance and dare the worst, and fortunately for them their remarkable success spread such terror before it that, when they appeared before these new works, the Spaniards made no attack, but remained quietly behind their breastworks while their dreaded foes marched past.

The seventeenth day of their march carried them to the banks of the river towards which their route had been laid. This was the Magdalena, a stream which rises in the mountains near New Segovia and flows through a difficult rock channel, with numerous cascades, three of them amounting to cataracts, finally reaching the Caribbean Sea after a course of several hundred miles.

How they were to descend this mountain torrent was the question which now offered itself to them. It presented a more attractive route of travel than the one so far pursued over the mountains, but was marked by difficulties of a formidable character. These were overcome by the freebooters in an extraordinary manner, one almost or quite without parallel in the annals of travel. The expedient they adopted was certainly of curious interest.

Before them was a large and rapid river, its current impeded by a multitude of rocks and broken by rapids and cascades. They were destitute of ropes or tools suitable for boat-building, and any ordinary kind of boats would have been of no use to them in such a stream. It occurred to them that what they needed to navigate a river of this character was something of the nature of large baskets or tuns, in which they might float enclosed to their waists, while keeping themselves from contact with the rocks by the aid of poles.

They had no models for such floating contrivances, and were obliged to invent them. Near the river was an extensive forest, and this supplied them abundantly with young trees, of light wood. These they cut down, stripped off their bark, collected them by fives, and, lacking ropes, fastened them together with lianas and a tenacious kind of gum which the forest provided. A large number of small, frail, basket-like contrivances were thus made, each large enough to carry two men, with whom they would sink in the water as deep as the waist. Piperies, Lussan called them, but his description does not make it clear just what they were like.

While thus engaged, the freebooters killed part of their horses, and salted their flesh for food, all the work being done with the energy and activity necessary in their critical situation. During it they were not molested by the Spaniards, but no one could tell how soon they might be. When all was ready they restored their prisoners to the liberty of which they had long been deprived, and entered upon one of the most perilous examples of navigation that can well be imagined.

Launched in their piperies, the freebooters found themselves tossed about by the impetuous current, and speedily covered with spray. The lightness of their floating baskets kept them from sinking, but the energetic efforts they were obliged to make to keep from being thrown out or dashed on the rocks soon exhausted them. A short experience taught them the necessity of fastening themselves in the piperies, so that their hands might be free to keep them from being hurled on the rocks. Occasionally their frail crafts were overturned or buried under the waves in the swift rapids, and the inmates were either drowned or escaped by abandoning the treasures which weighed them down.

Whatever else may be said of this method of navigation, it proved a rapid one, the frail barks being hurried on at an impetuous speed. Each of the cataracts was preceded by a basin of still water, and here it became necessary to swim to the shore and descend the rocks to the bottom of the fall. Some who remained behind threw the piperies into the stream to be carried over the liquid precipice, and recovered by swimming out to meet them, or replaced by new ones when lost.

After three days of this singular navigation it was decided, in view of the fact that the piperies were often dashed together to their mutual injury, to separate and keep at a distance from each other, those who went first marking out by small flags where it was necessary to land. During their progress the question of food again became prominent, the salted horsemeat they had brought with them being spoiled by its frequent wetting. Game was plentiful, but their powder was all spoiled, and the only food to be found was the fruit of the banana-tree, which grew abundantly on the banks.

The cupidity of the freebooters was not abated by the danger of their situation. They made the most earnest endeavors to preserve their spoil, and some of the poorer ones even resorted to murder to gain the wealth of their richer comrades. The dispersion of the flotilla favored this, and six conspiring Frenchmen hid behind the rocks and attacked and killed five Englishmen who were known to possess much treasure. Robbing the bodies, they took to the stream again, leaving the bloody corpses on the bank. Those who saw them had no time to think of avenging them.

Gradually the river grew wider and deeper and its course less impetuous. The cascades were all passed, but the stream was obstructed by floating or anchored tree-trunks, by which many of the piperies were overturned and their occupants drowned. To avoid this danger the piperies were now abandoned and the freebooters divided themselves into detachments and began to build large canoes from the forest trees. Four of these, carrying one hundred and thirty men, were soon ready and their builders again took to the stream. Of the fate of the others, who remained behind, no further account is given by the historian of this adventure.

On the 9th of March, sixty days after their departure from the Pacific, the adventurers reached the river's mouth, having completed their remarkable feat of crossing the continent in the face of the most threatening perils from man and nature. But fortune only partly favored them, for many had lost all the wealth which they had gathered in their career of piracy, their very clothes hanging in rags about their limbs. Some, indeed, had been more fortunate or more adroit in their singular navigation, but, as a whole, they were a woe-begone and miserable party when, a few days afterwards, they reached the isle of Perlas. Here were some friendly vessels, on which they embarked, and near the end of April they reached the West Indies, with the little that remained of their plunder.

Such was the end of this remarkable achievement, one which for boldness, intrepidity, and skill in expedients has few to rival it in the annals of history, and which, if performed by men of note, instead of by an obscure band of robbers, would have won for them a high meed of fame.



THE CRUELTY OF THE SPANIARDS TO THE INDIANS.

Never were a people more terribly treated than the natives of America under the Spanish adventurers. The often told story that the Indians of Hispaniola were annihilated in one generation after the settlement of that island is sufficient evidence of the frightfully inhuman treatment to which they were subjected. The laws of Spain provided for justice and humanity in the dealings with the Indians, but the settlers, thousands of miles away, paid no attention to these laws, and the red men were almost everywhere reduced to slavery, or where free and given political rights, were looked upon as far inferior to the whites. In every district Spain placed an official called the "Protector of the Indians," but it does not appear that they were much the better off for their "Protectors." It is our purpose here to say something about the cruel treatment of the natives in South America.



INDIANS OF THE PLATEAU.

The Spanish settlers had three terms which applied to their dealings with the Indians, the encomiendo, the mitad, and the repartimiento, each indicating a form of injustice. The conquerors divided the country between them, and the encomiendos were rights granted them to hold the Indians for a number of years as workers in their fields or their mines. Under these grants, the natives were converted into beasts of burden, and forced to do the hardest work without the least compensation. They were obliged to labor all day long under the burning tropical sun, to dive into the sea in search of pearls for their masters, or to toil buried from the light of day in the depths of the mines. It is not surprising that these miserable slaves, accustomed to a life of indolence and ease, perished as if exposed to a killing plague.

The mitad was a law formed for their protection, but it soon became one of the worst of the abuses. Under it every man from the age of eighteen to fifty was required to render bodily service, the natives of each mining colony of South America being divided into seven sections, each of which had to work six months in the mines. Every mine-owner could demand the number of Indians he needed. In Peru alone fourteen hundred mines were worked, and labor of this kind was in constant demand.

As to the kind of labor they had to do, we need only say that when any man was called upon to work in the mines he looked upon it as a sentence of death. Before going he gave all his possessions to his relatives, and they went through the funeral service, as if he were already dead. They well knew the usual end of labor in the mines. A mass was said for him at the church, and he had to take an oath of fidelity to the king. Then he was sprinkled with holy water and sent away to his deadly service. Deadly we may well call it, for it is said that scarcely a fifth part of these miners lived through their term of labor.

Lowered from the light of the sun into the deep underground shafts and galleries, and passing from the pure air of heaven to a pestilential atmosphere, excessive labor and bad food soon robbed them of strength and often of life. If they survived this, a species of asthma usually carried them off during the year. We may judge of the results from the calculation that the mitad in Peru alone had eight million victims.

The law limited the mitad to those living within thirty miles of a mine, but laborers were often brought by force from hundreds of miles away. As for the small wages paid them, the masters took part of it from them in payment for their food, and usually got the remainder by giving credit for clothes or liquor or in other ways. In fact, if by good fortune the Indian had not lost his life at the end of his term of service, he might be brought into debt which he could not pay, and thus held a slave for life.

The repartimiento was another protective law, which also became a means of oppression. Under it the district officials were required to supply all things needed by the Indians, there being, when the law was passed, no peddlers or travelling dealers. This privilege was quickly and shamelessly abused, the natives being sold poor clothing, spoiled grain, sour wine, and other inferior supplies, often at three or four times their value when of good quality. They were even made to buy things at high prices which were of no possible use to them, such as silk stockings for men who went barefoot, and razors for those who had scarcely any beard to shave. One corregidor bought a box of spectacles from a trader, and made the natives buy these at his own price, to wear when they went to mass, without regard to the fact that they were utterly useless to them.

The oppression of the natives was not confined to the laity, but the clergy were often as unjust. They forced them to pay not only the tithes, but extravagant prices for every church service, forty reals being charged for a baptism, twenty for a marriage certificate, thirty-two for a burial, etc. Such sums as these, which fairly beggared the poor Indians, enabled the clergy to build costly churches and mission houses and to keep up abundant revenues.

These general statements very faintly picture the actual state to which the Indians were reduced. This may be better shown by some instances of their sufferings. The Timebos Indians, for example, of the province of Velez, New Grenada, were reduced to such extreme misery by the embezzlement of the funds, that whole families flung themselves from the top of a rock twelve hundred feet high into the river below. One night, in order to escape from the cruelty of the colonists, the whole tribes of the Agatoas and Cocomes killed themselves, preferring death to the horrors of Spanish rule. Many Indians strangled themselves when in peril of being enslaved by the Spaniards, feeling that a quick death was better than a slow one under the torture of incessant toil.

In one instance, when a party of hopeless natives had come together with the intention of killing themselves, an intendant came to them with a rope in his hand, and told them that if they did not give up their purpose he would hang himself with them. This threat filled them with such horror at the prospect of meeting a Spaniard in the spirit world, that they fled from the spot, preferring life with all its terrors to such a companion.

As may well be imagined, the natives did not all yield resistlessly to their tyrants. Thus, in exasperation at the quantity of gold-dust which they were forced to pay as tribute, the people of Aconcalm, in the province of Canas, seized the brutal Spanish collector one day, and gave him melted gold to drink, "to satisfy in this way his insatiable thirst for gold."

In December, 1767, the descendants of the two tribes which had owned the mining valley of Caravaya descended on the white inhabitants in revenge for a usurpation of their lands which had taken place more than two centuries before. They settled the question of ownership by burning the city and killing all the inhabitants with arrows and clubs. When news of this was received by the viceroy, Don Antonio Amat, he swore on a piece of the true cross to kill all the savages in Peru. He was prevented from carrying out this threat only by the prayers of the actress Mariquita Gallegas, whom he loved, and who convinced him that it was his duty as a Christian to convert them to the religion of Christ rather than to massacre them.

In 1780 there began a memorable insurrection of the persecuted natives. It was especially notable as being led by a direct descendant of the Inca Tupac-Amaru, who had been beheaded by the Spaniards in 1562. This noble Indian, the last of the Incas, had been well educated by the Jesuits in Cuzco, and became the cacique of Tungasac. His virtues were such as to gain him the respect and esteem of all the Peruvian Indians, who venerated him also as the lineal descendant of their ancient emperors.

One day this cacique, exasperated by the rapacity of the corregidor of Tuita, who had laid three repartimientos on the Indians in a single year, seized the tyrannical wretch and strangled him with his own hands. Then, taking the name of his ancestor, Tupac-Amaru, he proclaimed himself the chief of all those who were in rebellion against the Spaniards.

His error seems to have been in not fraternizing with the creoles, or white natives of the country, who hated the Spaniards as bitterly as the Indians themselves. On the contrary he treated these as enemies also, and thus greatly augmented the number of his foes. The Indians, their memories of their ancient freedom aroused by his call, joined his ranks in enthusiastic numbers and won several victories over the whites, the whole of Upper Peru breaking out in insurrection. Lacking fire-arms as they did, they kept up the struggle for a year, the outbreak being brought to an end at last by treachery instead of arms. Betrayed by a cacique to whom the Spaniards promised a colonel's commission,—a promise they did not keep,—the Inca was taken prisoner by his enemies, and conducted to Cuzco, the ancient capital of his ancestors. Here he was tried and condemned to death, and executed with a frightful excess of cruelty that filled with horror all the civilized world, when the terrible tale became known.

Conducted to the place of execution, his wife and children, and his brother-in-law, Bastidas, were brought before him, their tongues cut out, and then put to death by the Spanish method of strangling before his eyes. His little son was left alive to witness his death. This was one in which the most brutal tortures of mediaeval times seemed revived. His tongue being torn out, his limbs were tied to four horses, which were driven in different directions with the purpose of tearing him limb from limb. The horses proved unable to do this, and he remained suspended in agony, until one of the more merciful of the Spaniards ended his torture by cutting off his head. During this revolting scene the little son of the victim gave vent to a terrible scream of agony, the memory of which haunted many of the executioners to their death.

The legs and arms of the victim were sent to the rebellious towns, his body was burned to ashes, his house was razed, his property confiscated, and his family declared infamous forever. One of his brothers was sent to Spain and condemned to the galleys, in which he remained for thirty years. Such were the means taken by the Spaniards to overcome the love of liberty in the natives of Peru.

As for the natives themselves, what few privileges they had retained were taken from them, their meetings and festivals were forbidden, and for any one to assume the name of Inca was declared criminal. These severe measures were thought sufficient to intimidate the Indians, but they only exasperated them, and they took a terrible revenge. Andres, a cousin of Amaru, who had escaped capture, and another chief named Catari, led them in a campaign of revenge in which they fought with the fury of despair. The lives of five hundred Spaniards, it is said, paid the penalty for each of the victims of that dread execution in Cuzco.

Andres besieged the city of Sorata, in which all the white families of the vicinity had taken refuge with their treasures. The artillery of the fortifications seemed an invulnerable defence against the poorly armed besiegers, but Andres succeeded in making a breach by turning the mountain streams against the walls. Once within, the exasperated Indians took a terrible revenge, a single priest being, as we are told, the sole survivor of the twenty thousand inhabitants. In the end the Spaniards put down the insurrection by treachery and cunning, seized the chiefs, and sent Andres to Ceuta, in Spain, where he remained in prison till 1820.

We shall only say in addition that the Portuguese of Brazil treated the natives of that land with a cruelty little less than that shown by the Spaniards, sending out hunting expeditions to bring in Indians to serve as slaves. Those who opposed them were shot down without mercy, and it is said that, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, peasants infected with the virus of smallpox were sent to the Botocudos, as a convenient means of getting rid of that hostile tribe. As a result of all this, the greater part of the tribes of Brazil completely disappeared. The natives of South America obtained justice and honorable treatment only after the people of that country had won their liberty.



CUDJOE, THE NEGRO CHIEF, AND THE MAROONS OF JAMAICA.

When the English conquered the island of Jamaica and drove the Spaniards out of it, they failed to conquer its sable inhabitants, negroes who had been slaves to the Spaniards, but who now fought for and maintained their freedom. Such were the Maroons, or mountain-dwelling fugitives of Jamaica, whose story is well worth telling.

First we must say something about the history of this island, and how it came into English hands. It was long held by the Spaniards, being discovered by Columbus in his second voyage, in 1494. In his last voyage he had a dismal experience there. With his vessels battered and ready to sink, after running through a severe wind storm, he put into the harbor of Porto Bueno, in northern Jamaica. He afterwards left this for a small bay, still known after him as Don Christopher's Cove, and here, attacked by the warlike natives, and unable to put to sea, he was kept captive in his shattered hulks for a whole year.

The Indians refused him food, and the tradition goes that he got this at length by a skilful artifice. Knowing that a total eclipse of the moon would soon take place, he sent word to the dusky chief that the lights in the sky were under his control, and if they did not give him supplies he would put out the light of the moon and never let it shine again on their island. The Indians laughed with scorn at this threat, but when they saw the moon gradually losing its light and fading into darkness, they fell into a panic, and begged him to let it shine again, promising to bring him all the food he wanted. At this the admiral feigned to relent, and after retiring for a time to his cabin, came forth and told them that he would consent to bring back the lost moonlight. After that the Indians saw that the crew had abundance of food. The admiral and his crew were finally rescued by an expedition sent from Hispaniola.

Jamaica, like Cuba and Hayti, has the honor of keeping its old Indian name, signifying a land of springs, or of woods and waters. It is a land of mountains also; if it had not been we would have had no story to tell, for these mountains were the haunts and the strongholds of the Maroons. The island was not settled till 1523, twenty years after the detention of Columbus on its shores. Many years after that we find its Spanish settlers oppressing all the English that fell into their hands. This was the case, in fact, all through the West Indies, English seamen being put in the stocks, sent to the galleys, or murdered outright.

It took the sturdy directness of Oliver Cromwell to put an end to these outrages. He sent word to the Spanish minister that there must be a stop put to the practices of the Inquisition and to the restriction of free navigation in the West Indies. The minister replied, that to ask for these two things was "to ask for his master's two eyes," and that no such thing could be allowed. Cromwell's reply was to the point:

"I know of no title that the Spaniards hath but by force, which by the same title may be repelled. And as to the first discovery—to me it seems as little reason that the sailing of a Spanish ship upon the coast of India should entitle the king of Spain to that country as the sailing of an Indian or English ship upon the coast of Spain should entitle either the Indians or the English to the dominion thereof. The Spaniards have contravented the Treaty of 1630. War must needs be justifiable when peace is not allowable."

This reply was certainly one marked by sound logic and good sense. It was the rule of force, not of right, that lay behind all claims to dominion in America, and this rule could be set aside by superior force. So Cromwell sent out a great fleet under command of Admiral Penn,—father of William Penn, the settler of Pennsylvania,—with a land force commanded by General Venables. The first attempt was made upon Hispaniola. Failing here, the fleet sailed to Jamaica, where the Spaniards surrendered on the 11th of May, 1655. They tried to take it back again shortly before Cromwell's death, but did not succeed, and Jamaica has remained an English island from that day to this.

This is about all we need say by way of preface, except to remark that many settlers were sent to Jamaica, and the island soon became well peopled and prosperous, Port Royal, its principal harbor, coming to be the liveliest city in the West Indies. It was known as the wickedest city as well as the richest, and when an earthquake came in 1692, and Port Royal, with the sandy slope on which it was built, slipped into the sea with all its dwellings, warehouses and wealth, and numbers of its people, the disaster was looked upon by many as a judgment from heaven. There is one thing more worth mention, which is that Morgan, the buccaneer, whose deeds of shameful cruelty at Panama we have described, became afterwards deputy governor of Jamaica, as Sir Henry Morgan, which title was given him by King Charles II. It is not easy to know why this was done, unless it be true, as was then said, that Charles shared in the spoils of his bloody deeds of piracy. However that be, Morgan, as governor, turned hotly upon his former associates, and hunted down the buccaneers without mercy, hanging and shooting all he could lay hands on, until he fairly put an end to the trade which had made him rich.

Let us come now to the story of the Maroons, that nest of fugitives who made things hot enough for the English in Jamaica for many years. When Cromwell's soldiers took possession of Jamaica few or none of those warlike Indians, who had given Columbus so much trouble, were left. In their place were about two thousand negro slaves, and these fled to the mountains, as the Indians had done before them. There they remained in freedom, though the English did their best to coax them to come down and enjoy the blessings of slavery again, and though they tried their utmost to drive them down from the cliffs by means of soldiers and guns. In spite of all the whites could do, the negroes, "Maroons," as they were called, long preserved their liberty.

In 1663 the British, finding that they could not master the warlike fugitives by force, offered them a full pardon, with liberty and twenty acres of land apiece, if they would yield. But the negroes, who were masters of the whole mountainous interior, where thousands could live in plenty, chose to stay where they were and not to trust to the slippery faith of the white man. And so it went on until after 1730, when the depredations of the negroes upon the settlements became so annoying that two regiments of British regulars and all the militia of the island were sent into the mountains to put them down. As it proved, the negroes still held their own, not one of them being taken prisoner, and very few of them killed. They were decidedly masters of the situation.

At this time the chief of the Maroons, Cudjoe by name, was a dusky dwarf, sable, ugly, and uncouth, but shrewd and wary, and fully capable of discounting all the wiles of his enemies. No Christian he, but a full Pagan, worshipping, with his followers, the African gods of Obeah, or the deities of the wizards and sorcerers. His lurking-place, in the defiles of the John Crow Mountains, was named Nanny Town, after his wife. Here two mountain streams plunged over a rock nine hundred feet high into a romantic gorge, where their waters met in a seething caldron called "Nanny's Pot." Into this, as the negroes believed, the black witch Nanny could, by her sorcery, cast the white soldiers who pursued them. As for old Cudjoe himself, the English declared that he must be in league with the devil, whom he resembled closely enough to be his brother. And they were not without warrant for this belief, for he held his own against them for nine long years, at the end of which the Maroons were more numerous than at the beginning, since those who were killed were more than made up by fresh accessions of runaway slaves.

It is certain that the British soldiers were no match for Cudjoe the dwarf. Retreating warily before them, he drew them into many an ambush in the wild defiles of the mountains, where they were cut down like sheep, the waters of the "Pot" being often reddened with their blood. From many of the expeditions sent against him only a few weary and wounded survivors returned, and it became difficult to induce the soldiers to venture into that den of death.

At length a British officer succeeded in dragging two mountain howitzers up the cliffs to a position from which Nanny Town, the inaccessible Maroon stronghold, could be shelled. When the shells, hurled from the distant cannon, began to burst among them, the Maroons were at first so filled with terror that some of them threw themselves over the cliffs, but the bulk of them merely scattered and let the howitzers do their work among empty walls.

Cudjoe was astonished at the bursting shells, but he was too old a bird to be frightened. "Dis a new way de buckra man got to fight," he said. "He fire big ball arter you, and den de big ball fire little ones arter you. Dat's berry cunnin', but ole Cudjoe know somethin' better un dat."

Leading his men through the woods with the stealthy tread and noiseless skill of the American Indians, the dwarf and his Maroons suddenly burst upon the unwary soldiers from the rear while they were busy about their guns, delivering a telling volley and then rushing upon them with blade and axe. Few of the whites escaped this ferocious onset, and the shell-delivering howitzers remained in Cudjoe's hands.

Despairing of conquering the forest-born Maroons by the arts of civilized warfare, the British were driven to try a new method. In 1737 they brought from the Mosquito coast a number of Indians, who were fully the equal of the negroes in bush fighting. These were launched upon the track of the Maroons and soon ran them down in their mountain fastnesses. From Nanny Town the seat of war shifted to another quarter of the island, but at length the Maroons, finding their new foes fully their match in their own methods, consented to sign a treaty of peace with the whites, though only on the terms that they should retain their full freedom.

The treaty was made in 1738 at Trelawney Town, the Maroons being represented by Captains Cudjoe, Accompong, Johnny, Cuffee, and Quaco, and a number of their followers, "who have been in a state of war and hostility for several years past against our sovereign lord the king and the inhabitants of this island."

By the terms of the treaty the Maroons were to retain their liberty forever, to be granted a large tract of land in the mountains, and to enjoy full freedom of trade with the whites. On their part they agreed to keep peace with the whites, to return all runaway slaves who should come among them, and to aid the whites in putting down the rebellion and in fighting any foreign invader.

In 1760 their promise to aid the whites against local outbreaks was put to the test when the fierce Koromantyn negroes broke out in rebellion and committed fearful atrocities. A party of Maroons joined the whites and seemed very zealous in their cause, ranging the woods and bringing in a large number of ears, which they said they had cut from the heads of rebels killed by them. It afterwards was found that the ears had been obtained from the negroes who had been slain by the troops and left where they fell.

The Maroons remained unmolested until 1795, not without outbreaks on their part and depredations on the settlements. In the year named two of them were caught stealing pigs, and were sent to the workhouse and given thirty-nine lashes on the bare back. When set free they went home in a fury, and told a pitiful tale of the disgrace they had suffered, being whipped by the black driver of the workhouse in the presence of felon slaves. The story roused the blood of all their fellows, who felt that they had been outraged by this insult to two of their kindred, and a revolt broke out that spread rapidly throughout the mountains.

The whites were in a quandary. To attempt to put down the rebels by force of arms might lead to the sanguinary results of sixty years before. But it was remembered that in the former war the use of dogs had proved very advantageous, so agents were now sent to Cuba to purchase a pack of bloodhounds. Thus the methods employed by the Spaniards against the Indians two centuries before were once more brought into use. One hundred hounds were bought and with them came forty Cuban huntsmen, mostly mulattoes. As it proved, the very news of the coming of the hounds had the desired effect, the Maroons being apparently much more afraid of these ferocious dogs than of trained soldiers. At any rate, they immediately sued for peace, and, as an old historian tells us, "It is pleasing to observe that not a drop of blood was spilt after the dogs arrived in the island." Peace was made within a week, and in the next year the chief offenders were sent to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and put at work on the fortifications. They were afterwards sent to Liberia.

From that time forward there was no trouble with the Maroons. Their descendants still dwell in the island as a separate people. In 1865 there was an outbreak among the free blacks, slavery having been abolished thirty years before. The Maroons were called upon to help the troops put down this revolt. They responded cheerfully and rendered useful aid in the brief conflict. When it was over the black warriors were invited to Kingston, the capital, where the whites of that city had their first sight of the redoubtable Maroons. Black and brawny, they had the dignified carriage of men who had always been free and independent, while some of them wore with pride silver medals which their ancestors had been given for former aid to the whites. Once a terror to Jamaica, the Maroons are now among its most trusty inhabitants.



TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE AND THE REVOLUTION IN HAYTI.

The people of Europe have not stood alone in settling and ruling America, for the blacks of Africa, brought to the New World as slaves, have made themselves masters of one of the largest and most fertile islands of the West Indies, that attractive gem of the tropics which, under the name of Hispaniola, was the pioneer among Spanish dominions on American soil.

Hispaniola has had a strange and cruel history. The Spaniards enslaved its original inhabitants and treated them so ruthlessly that they were soon annihilated. Then the island was filled with negro slaves. About 1630 the buccaneers, or hunters of wild bulls, made it their haunt, and as these were mostly French, the western part of the island was ceded to France in 1697. During the century that followed Africans were brought over in multitudes, until there were nearly half a million blacks in Hayti,—the Indian name of the island,—while there were less than forty thousand whites and thirty thousand mulattoes, the latter being neither citizens nor slaves. These facts are given as a necessary introduction to the story we are about to tell.

It was the white revolution in France that brought about the black revolution in Hayti. In 1789 the States-General met in France and overturned the ancient system of oppression in that land. Liberty for all was the tocsin of its members, and it was proclaimed that not only the whites of France and her colonies, but the blacks also, were entitled to freedom and a voice in the government. The news of this decree created a ferment of passion in Hayti. The white planters of the island, who had long controlled everything, burst into fury, for-swore all allegiance to France, and trampled the national flag under foot in their rage.

But they had others than the French Assembly to deal with. The mulattoes, or free people of color, rose in arms for the rights of which they had been deprived. They were soon put down, but in the following year (1791) a much more terrible outbreak took place, that of the slaves. There followed a reign of terror as sanguinary in type as that of France. The revolt began on the night of August 21, on the plantation of Noe, near Cape Haytien. The long-oppressed and savage blacks mercilessly killed all the whites who fell into their hands. Down from the mountains they poured on every side, their routes marked by blood and devastation. Hills and plains were swept with fire and sword, atrocities of the most horrible kinds were committed, and nearly all the residents on the plantations, more than two thousand in number, were brutally slaughtered, while a thousand sugar and coffee estates were swept by fire.

In the first revolution the mulattoes aided the whites of the cities to repel the blacks, but later, believing themselves betrayed by the whites, they joined the blacks, and the revolt became a war of extermination. It did not end until the negroes became masters of all the country districts, and gained a control of the mountainous interior of the island which, except for a brief interval, they have ever since retained.

This success was in great part due to the famous leader of the blacks, the renowned Toussaint L'Ouverture, a man who proved himself one of the greatest and noblest of his race. Born in Hayti, of negro parents, he was descended from an African prince, and, slave though he was in condition, had himself the soul of a prince. He taught himself to read and write, and also something of mathematics and of Latin, and was taken from the fields to become coachman for the overseer of the estate of his master, the Count de Breda.

When the negro revolt began, and the furious blacks were seeking victims on all sides, Toussaint concealed the overseer and his family in the forest, took them food at the risk of his own life, and finally led them to the coast, where they took ship for the United States.

While he was thus engaged, the negroes, led by a gigantic black named Bouckman, and subsequently by three others, were continuing their course of butchery and devastation. Toussaint joined them after the escape of the overseer, and quickly gained an influence over them, largely from his knowledge of medicinal plants and a degree of skill in surgery. This influence enabled him to put himself at their head and to mitigate the ferocity of their actions. His ascendency was due not only to his knowledge, but also to his valor, and from his courage in opening a breach in the ranks of the enemy he became known as L'Ouverture, or the opener.



SOUTH AMERICAN NATIVE HUT.

Under their new leader the revolted slaves held their own against their enemies, declaring in favor of the king, Louis XVI., and against the revolutionists. On the other hand, the English came to the aid of the whites, and the island was thrown into a state of horrible confusion, increased by the interference of the Spaniards, who held the eastern section of the island.

In 1794, after the Convention in Paris had issued a decree demanding the liberation of the slaves, Toussaint and his followers joined the revolutionary cause, and aided the French general Laveaux to expel the British and Spanish invaders. In this campaign he won a number of victories, and showed such military skill and ability as to prove him a leader of the highest qualities. Beard says of him, "His energy and his prowess made him the idol of his troops.... In his deeds and warlike achievements he equalled the great captains of ancient and modern times."

One example of the risks which he ran in battle occurred in his efforts to put down an insurrection of the mulattoes. In this contest he fell into an ambush in the mountains near Port de Paix, a shower of bullets sweeping his ranks. His private physician fell dead by his side and a plume of feathers in his hat was shot away, but he remained unharmed. The same was the case soon after when, in a narrow pass, his coachman was shot down. The negro leader seemed, like Napoleon, to bear a charmed life.

Declaring himself lieutenant-general of the colony, he wrote to the Directory in Paris, guaranteeing to be responsible for the orderly behavior of the blacks and their good will to France. He sent at the same time his two elder sons to Paris to be educated, making them practically hostages for his honor and good faith.

In 1798 the war, which had lasted for years, came to an end, the British being expelled from the island and the rebellious mulattoes put down. Peace prevailed, and the negro conqueror now devoted himself to the complete pacification of the people. Agriculture was encouraged, the churches were reopened, schools were established, and law and justice were made equal for all. At the same time the army was kept in excellent training and a rigid discipline exacted.

As is usual in such cases, there were abundant applications among the negroes for official positions, and Toussaint was sorely put to it to dispose of these ignorant aspirers after high places without giving offence. He seems, however, to have been well versed in political management, and is said to have disposed of one unlearned applicant for a judicial position with the words, "Ah, yes; you would make an excellent magistrate. Of course you understand Latin.—No?—Why, that is very unfortunate, for you know that Latin is absolutely necessary."

There is another evidence of his wisdom in dealing with his people that is worth repeating. As has been said, when the revolution began Hayti had about half a million of blacks to seventy thousand whites and mulattoes. Toussaint adopted an original method of making the force of this fact evident to his followers. He would fill a glass with black grains of corn and throw upon them a few grains of white. "You are the black grains," he would say; "your enemies are the white." Then he would shake the glass. "Where are the white grains now? You see they have disappeared."

The authorities in France could not but recognize the ability and the moderation of the black leader, and in 1796 he was appointed commander-in-chief in the island, a commission which was confirmed by Bonaparte about December, 1799. All classes and colors regarded him as a general benefactor and a wise and judicious ruler. Order and prosperity were restored, and his government was conducted with moderation and humanity. It looked as though peace and good will might continue in Hayti as long as this able governor lived, but unluckily he had to deal with a man in whom ambition and pride of place overruled all conceptions of justice. This was Napoleon Bonaparte, who had now risen to the supreme power in France.