 CHAPTER VIII. GONZALO PIZARRO and the Land of Cinnamon. We have now to relate the most remarkable adventure in the story of the conquest of Peru and one of the most remarkable in the history of the New World, the expedition of Gonzalo Pizarro to the upper waters of the Amazon and the pioneer voyage down that mighty river. Francisco Pizarro was well-aided by his brothers in his great work of conquest, three of them, Hernando, Juan and Gonzalo accompanying him to Peru, and all of them proving brave, enterprising and able men. In 1540, eight years after the conquest, Gonzalo was appointed by his brother, Governor of the Territory of Quito, in the north of the Empire, with instructions to explore the unknown country lying to the east, where the cinnamon tree was said to grow. Gonzalo lost no time in seeking his province and made haste in starting on his journey of exploration to the fabled land of spices. It was early in the year that he had set out on this famous expedition with a force of 350 Spaniards and 4,000 Indians, one hundred and fifty of the Whites being mounted. They were all thoroughly equipped and took with them a large supply of provisions and a great drove of hogs, five thousand in number, as some riders say. Yet with all this food they were to suffer from the extremes of famine. We can but briefly tell the incidents of this extraordinary journey. At first it was easy enough, but when they left the land of the Incas and began to cross the lofty ranges of the Andes, they found themselves involved in intricate and difficult passes, swept by chilling winds. In this cold wilderness many of the natives found an icy grave, and during their passage a terrible earthquake shook the mountains, the earth in one place being rent asunder. Choking, sulfurous vapours issued from the cavity into whose frightful abyss a village of several hundred houses was precipitated. After the heights were passed and they descended to the lower levels, tropical heat succeeded the biting cold and fierce storms of rain, accompanied by violent thunder and lightning, and it almost ceaselessly drenching the travellers day after day. It was the rainy season of the tropics and for more than six weeks the deluge continued, while the furlorn wanderers, wet and weary, could scarce drag themselves over the yielding and saturated soil. For several months this toilsome journey continued, many a mountain stream and dismal morass needing to be crossed. At length they reached the land of Cinnamon, the Canelas of the Spaniards, where were forests of the trees supposed by them to bear the precious bark. Yet had it been the actual cinnamon of the East Indies it would have been useless to them in that remote and mountain walled wilderness. Here their journey as originally laid out should have ended, but they were lured on by the statements of the wild tribes they met, they being told of a rich and populous land at ten days' journey in advance in which gold could be found in abundance. Gold was a magic word to the Spaniards, and they went eagerly onward over a country of broad savannas which led to seemingly endless forests, where grew trees of stupendous bulk, some so large that the extended arms of sixteen men could barely reach around them. A thick network of vines and creepers hung in bright-colored festoons from tree to tree, beautiful to look at, but very difficult to pass. The axe was necessary at every step of the way, while their garments, rotted with the incessant rains, were torn into rags by the bushes and brambles of the woodland. Their provisions had been long since spoiled by the weather, and their drove of swine had vanished, such of the animals as were not consumed having strayed into the woods and hills. They had brought with them nearly a thousand dogs, many of them of the ferocious bloodhound breed, and these they were now glad enough to kill and eat. When these were gone no food was to be had but such herbs and edible roots and small animals as the forest afforded. At length the disconsolate wanderers emerged on the banks of a broad river, the Napo, one of the great tributaries of the Amazon, issuing from the northern Andes to seek a home in the bosom of that mighty stream. Gladdened by the sight they followed its banks downward, hoping in this way to find an easier route. Thickets still beset their way, through which it needed all their strength to open a passage, and after going a considerable distance, a loud and increasing noise met their ears. For miles they followed it as it gradually rose into a roar, and at length they reached a place where the stream rushed furiously down steep rapids and at the end poured in a vast volume of foam down a magnificent cataract, twelve hundred feet deep. This was the height of the fall as measured by the eyes of the wanderers, a guide not much to be relied on. The stream itself had narrowed until it was at this point not more than twenty feet wide, and the hungry wanderers determined to cross it with the hope of finding beyond it a country yielding more food. A bridge was constructed by felling great trees across the chasm, the water here running through vertical walls several hundred feet in depth. Over this rude bridge, men and horses made their way, only one Spaniard being lost by tumbling down the giddy depth. The country beyond the stream proved no better than that they had left, and the only sign of inhabitants they met were savage and hostile tribes of Indians, with whom they kept up a steady skirmish. Some of the more friendly told them that the fruitful land they sought was but a few days' journey down the river, and they went wearily on, day by day, as the promised land still fled before their feet. Doubtless they were led by their own desires to misinterpret the words of the Indians. In the end Gonzalo Pizarro decided on building a vessel large enough to carry the baggage and the men too weak to walk. Timber was super abundant. The shoes of horses that had died or had been killed for food were wrought into nails. Pitch was obtained from gum-yielding trees. In place of oakum the tattered garments of the soldiers were used. It took two months to complete the difficult task, at the end of which time a rude but strong brigantine was ready, the first vessel larger than an Indian canoe that had ever floated on the mighty waters of Brazil. It was large enough to carry half the Spaniards that remained alive after their months of terrible travel. Pizarro gave the command of the vessel to Francisco de Oriana, a man in whose courage and fidelity he put full trust. The company now resumed its march more hopefully, following the course of the Napo for weeks that lengthened into months, the brigantine keeping beside them and transporting the weaker whenever a difficult piece of country was reached. In this journey the last scraps of provisions were consumed including their few remaining horses and they were so pressed by hunger as to eat the leather of their saddles and belts. Little food was yielded by the forest and such toads, serpents and other reptiles as they found were greedily devoured. Still the story of a rich country inhabited by a populous nation was told by the wandering Indians, but it was always several days ahead. Pizarro at length decided to stop where he was and feed on the scanty forest spoil, while Oriana went down the stream in his brigantine to where, as the Indians said, the Napo flowed into a greater river. Here the nation they sought was to be found and Oriana was bitten to get a supply of provisions and bring them back to the half-starved company. Taking fifty of the adventurers in the vessel he pushed off into the swift channel of the river and shot onward in a speedy voyage which quickly took him and his comrades out of sight. Days and weeks passed and no sign of the return of the voyagers appeared. In vain the waiting men strained their eyes down the stream and sent out detachment to look for the vessel farther down. Finally, deeming it useless to wait longer, they resumed their journey down the river, spending two months in advancing five or six hundred miles, those of them who did not die by the way. At length they reached the point they sought where the Napo plunged into a much larger stream, that mighty river since known as the Amazon, which rolls for thousands of miles eastward through the vast Brazilian forest. Here they looked in vain for the brigantine and the rich and populous country promised them. They were still in a dense forest region, as unpromising as that they had left. As for Oriana and his companions it was naturally supposed that they had perished by famine or by the hands of the ferocious natives, but they learned differently at length, when a half-starved and half-naked white man emerged from the forest whom they recognized as Sanchez de Vargas, one of Oriana's companions. The tale he told them was the following. The brigantine had shot so swiftly down the Napo as to reach in three days the point it had taken them two months to attain. Here, instead of finding supplies with which to return, Oriana could obtain barely enough food for himself and his men. To attempt to ascend against the swift current of the river was impossible. To go back by land was a formidable task and one that would add nothing to the comfort of those left behind. In this dilemma Oriana came to the daring decision to go on down the Amazon, visiting the populous nations which he was told dwelt on its banks, descending to its mouth and sailing back to Spain with the tidings and the glory of a famous adventure and noble discovery. He found his reckless companions quite ready to accept his perilous scheme, with little heed of the fate of the comrades left behind them in the wilderness. De Vargas was the only one who earnestly opposed the desertion as inhuman and dishonorable, and Oriana punished him by abandoning him in the wilderness and sailing away without him. The story of Oriana's adventure is not the least interesting part of the expedition we have set out to describe, but as it is a side issue we must deal with it very briefly. Launched on the mighty and unknown river in a rudely built bark, it is a marvel that the voyagers escaped shipwreck in the descent of that vast stream, the navigation being too difficult and perilous, as we are told by Condamine, who descended it in 1743, to be undertaken without the aid of a skillful pilot. Yet the daring Spaniards accomplished it safely. Many times their vessel narrowly escaped being dashed to pieces on the rocks or in the rapids of the stream. Still greater was the danger of the voyagers from the warlike forest tribes who followed them for miles in canoes and fiercely attacked them whenever they landed in search for food. At length the extraordinary voyage was safely completed, and the brigantine built on the Napo several thousand miles in the interior emerged on the Atlantic. Here Oriana proceeded to the island of Cubania, from which he made his way with his companions to Spain. He had a wonderful story to tell of nations of Amazons dwelling on the banks of the Great River, of an El Dorado said to exist in its vicinity, and other romances gathered from the uncertain stories of the savages. He found no difficulty in that age of marvels and credulity in gaining belief and was sent out at the head of five hundred followers to conquer and colonize the realms he had seen. But he died on the outward voyage, and Spain got no profit from his discovery, the lands of the Amazon falling within the territory assigned by the Pope to Portugal. Oriana had accomplished one of the greatest feats in the annals of travel and discovery, though his glory was one at the cost of the crime of deserting his companions in the depths of the untrodden wilderness. It was with horror and indignation that the deserted soldiers listened to the story of Vargas, and found themselves deprived of their only apparent means of escape from that terrible situation. An effort was made to continue their journey along the banks of the Amazon, but after some days of wearying toil this was given up as a hopeless task, and despair settled down upon their souls. Gonzalo Pizarro now showed himself an able leader. He told his despairing followers that it was useless to advance farther and that they could not stay where they were, their only hope, lying in a return to Quito. This was more than a thousand miles away, and over a year had passed since they left it. To return was perilous, but in it lay their only hope. Gonzalo did all he could to reanimate their spirits, speaking of the constancy they had shown, and bidding them to show themselves worthy of the name of Castilians. Glory would be theirs when they should reach their native land. He would lead them back by another route, and somewhere on it they would surely reach that fruitful land of which so much had been told them. At any rate every step would take them nearer home, and nothing else was left them to do. The soldiers listened to him with renewed hope. He had proved himself so far a true companion sharing all their perils and privations, taking his lot with the humblest among them, aiding the sick and cheering up the despondent. In this way he had won their fullest confidence and devotion, and in this trying moment he reaped the benefit of his unselfish conduct. The journey back was more direct and less difficult than that they had already taken. Yet though this route proved an easier one, their distress was greater than ever, from their lack of food beyond such scanty fare as they could pick up in the forest, or obtain by force or otherwise from the Indians. Such as sickened and fell by the way were obliged to be left behind, and many a poor wretch was deserted to die alone in the wilderness, if not devoured by the wild beasts that roamed through it. The homeward march, like the outward one, took more than a year, and it was in June 1542 that the survivors trod again the high plains of Quito. They were a very different-looking party from the well-equipped and hope-inspired troop of cavaliers and men-at-arms who had left that upland city nearly two-and-a-half years before. Their horses were gone, their bright arms were rusted and broken, their clothing was replaced by the skins of wild beasts, their hair hung long and matted down their shoulders, their faces were blackened by the tropical sun, their bodies were wasted and scarred. A gallant troop they had set out, a body of meager phantoms they returned. Of the four thousand Indians taken, less than half had survived. Of the Spaniards only eighty came back, and these so worn and broken that many of them never fully recovered from their sufferings. Thus, in suffering and woe, ended the famous expedition to the land of cinnamon. CHAPTER IX. CHAPTER IX. Coronado and the Seven Cities of Cebola. The remarkable success of Cortez and Pizarro in Mexico and Peru went far to convince the Spaniards that in America they had found a veritable land of magic filled with wonders and supremely rich in gold and gem. Ponce de Leon sought in Florida for the fabled fountain of youth. Hernando de Soto, one of the companions of Pizarro, attempted to find a second Peru in the north and became the discoverer of the Mississippi. From Mexico other adventurers set out with equal hopes in search of empire and treasure. Some went south to the conquest of Central America, others north to California and New Mexico. The latter region was the seat of the fan-seed Seven Cities of Cebola, the search for which it is here proposed to describe. In 1538 Francisco Vasquez de Coronado was appointed governor of New Galicia as the country lying north of Mexico was named, and sent out a certain Fremacos, a monk who had been with Pizarro in Peru on a journey of exploration to the north. With him were some Indian guides and a negro named Estevanico, or Stephen, who had been one of the survivors of the Narvaz expedition to Florida and had traveled for years among the Indians of the north. He was expected to be of great assistance. As the worthy friar went on he was told of rich regions beyond where the people wore ornaments of gold, and at length he sent the negro in advance to investigate the report. Stephen was to send back by the Indians a cross, the size of which would indicate the importance of what he had learned. Within four days messengers returned with a great cross the height of a man, significant of great and important discoveries. One of the Indians told the friar that thirty days journey from the point they had reached was a populous country called Cebola, in which were seven great cities under one lord, peopled by a civilized nation that dwelt in large houses well built of stone and lime, some of them several stories in height. The entrances to the principal houses were richly wrought with turquoise, which was there in great abundance. Farther on they had been told were other provinces, each of them much greater than that of the seven cities. Two days after Easter, fifteen thirty-nine, Fray Marcos set out on the track of his pioneer, eager to reach the land of wonders and riches of which he had been told. Doubtless there arose in his mind dreams of a second Mexico or Peru. The land through which lay his root was strange and picturesque. Here were fertile valleys watered by streams and walled in by mountains. There were narrow canyons through which ran rapid streams with rock walls hundreds of feet high and cut into strange forms of turrets and towers. As he went on he heard more of the seven cities and the distant kingdoms and of the abundance of turquoises with which the natives adorned their persons and their doorways. But nothing was seen of Stephen, though shelter and provisions were found which he had left at points along the route. As for the dusky pioneer, Fray Marcos was never to set eyes on him again. At length the good monk reached a fertile region irrigated like a garden where the men wore three or four strings of turquoises around their necks and the women wore them in their ears and noses. But Sibola lay still beyond, the tales of the natives magnifying its houses till some of them were ten stories in height. Ladders, they said, were used in place of stairways. Reaching at length the Gila River, a stream flowing through deep and rugged valleys, he heard again of the negro who was crossing the wilderness to the northeast escorted like a prince by some three hundred natives. Fifteen days journey still lay between Fray Marcos and Sibola, and he went on into the wilderness escorted like his pioneer by a large train of natives who volunteered their services. For twelve days the journey continued. Through a rough mountain region, abundantly supplied with game, consisting of deer, rabbits and partridges which was brought in by the Indian hunters. But now there came back startling news for one of the negro's guides appeared pallid with fright telling how Stephen had reached Sibola where he had been seized, plundered and imprisoned. Further on two more Indians were met covered with blood and wounds who said that they had escaped from the slaughter of all their comrades by the war-like people of Sibola. The bold monk had now much trouble in getting his frightened followers to go on with him, but by means of abundant presence he induced two of the chiefs to proceed. He was determined to gain at least a sight of the land of wonders, and with the chiefs and his own followers he cautiously proceeded. At length from a hill summit he looked down on a broad plain on which he saw the first of the famous seven cities. To his excited fancy it was greater than the city of Mexico, the houses of stone in many stories and with flat roofs. This was all he could tell from his distant view in which the mountain hazes seemed to have greatly magnified his power of vision. That was the end of Frey Marco's journey. He did not dare to approach nearer to that terrible people, and as he quaintly says, returned with more fear than viddles, overtaking his escort which moved by a still greater fear had not waited for him. Back to Coronado he went with this story, a disappointing one since he had seen nothing of either gold, silver or precious stones, the nearest approach to treasure being the greenish turquoise. The story of the Negro pioneer, as afterwards learned, was one that might have fitted the Orient. He advanced with savage magnificence, bells and feathers adorning his sable arms and legs, while he carried a gourd decorated with bells and with white and red feathers. This he knew to be a symbol of authority among the Indians. Two Spanish Greyhounds followed him and a number of handsome Indian women whom he had taken up on the way, attended him. He was followed with a large escort of Indians, carrying his provisions and other effects, among them gifts received or plundered taken from the natives. When near Cebola, he, in disobedience of the orders given him, sent messengers to the city bearing his gourd, and saying that he came to treat for peace and to cure the sick. The chief, to whom the gourd was presented, on observing the bells, cast it angrily to the ground exclaiming, I know not these people, their bells are not of our fashion. Tell them to return at once or not a man of them will be left alive. In despite of this hostile message, the vanglorious Negro went on. He and his company were not permitted to enter the city but were given a house outside of it, and here they were stripped of all their possessions and refused food and drink. The next morning they left the house, where they were quickly surrounded and attacked by a great number of the townspeople, all of them being killed except the two Indians who had brought the news to Fray Marcos. Why they were treated in this manner is not known. They seem to have been looked on as spies or enemies, but it is interesting that the legend of the killing of a black Mexican still lingers in a Pueblo of the Zuni Indians, though three centuries and a half have since then elapsed. The story of the discovery of the seven cities as told by the worthy Fray Marcos when repeated in the city of Mexico, gave rise to high hopes of a new El Dorado, and numbers were ready to join in an expedition to explore and conquer Sibola. The city was then well filled with adventurers eager for fame and fortune, many of them men of good family, cavaliers of rank floating about like quarks on water, and soldiers ready to enlist in any promising service. It is no wonder that in a few weeks a company of over three hundred were enlisted, a large proportion of them mounted. The Indians of the expedition numbered eight hundred and some small field pieces were taken along, while sheep and cows were to be driven to supply the army with fresh meat. Francisco de Coronado was given the command, and so distinguished was the cavalcade that the viceroy would have appointed each of the gentlemen a captain, but for fear of making the command top heavy with officers. It was early in fifteen forty that the gallant expedition set out, some of the horsemen arrayed in brilliant coats of mail and armed with swords and lances, others wearing helmets of iron or tough bull hide, while the footmen carried crossbows and muskets, and the Indians were armed with bows and clubs. Splendid they were, but woe befallen were they to be on their return, such of them as came back. An accessory party was sent by sea along the Pacific coast under Hernando de Alarcón to aid as far as it could in the success of the army, but in spite of all Alarcón's efforts he failed to get in communication with Coronado and his men. On the seventh of July, after following the monks' route through the mountain wilderness, the expedition came within two days' march of the first city of Cebola. It was evident from the signal fires on the hills and other signs of hostility that the Spaniards would have to fight, but for this the cavaliers of that day seemed to have been always ready, and the next day Coronado moved forward towards the desired goal. At length the gallant little army was before Hawaica, the city on which Fray Marcos had gazed with such magnifying eyes, but which now was seen to be a village of some two hundred houses. It lay about fifteen miles south-west of the present Zuni. The natives were ready for war. All the old men with the women and children had been sent away, and the Spaniards were received with a volley of arrows. The houses were built in retreating terraces, each story being smaller than that below it, and from these points of vantage the arrows of the natives came in showers. Evidently the place was only to be taken by assault, and the infantry was posted so as to fire on the warriors, while a number of dismounted horsemen sought to scale the walls by a ladder which they had found. This proved no easy task. Coronado's glittering armour, especially, made him a shining mark, and he was so tormented with arrows and battered with stones as he sought to ascend that he was wounded and had to be carried from the field. Others were injured, and three horses were killed, but in less than an hour the place was carried. The warriors were treating in dismay before the impetuous assault. Glad enough were the soldiers to occupy the deserted houses. Their food had given out, and they were half-starved, but in the storerooms they found that of which there was greater need than of gold or silver, which was much corn and beans and chicken, better than those of New Spain, and salt, the best and whitest I have seen in all my life. The chickens seemed to have been wild turkeys kept by the natives for their plumage, but of the much desired gold and silver there was not a trace. The story of all the adventures of the Spaniards in this country is too extended, and not of enough interest to be given here. It must suffice to say that before their eyes the seven cities of Cebola fainted into phantoms, or rather, contracted into villages of terraced houses like that they had captured. Food was to be had, but none of the hoped for spoil, even the turquoises of which so much had been told proving to be of little value. Expeditions were sent out in different directions, some of them discovering lofty, tower-like hills with villages on their almost inaccessible summits, the only approach being by narrow steps cut in the rock. Others came upon deep canyons, one of them discovering the wonderful Grand Canyon of the Colorado River. In the country of Tiguex were twelve villages built of Adobe, some on the plain and some on lofty heights. The people here received the Spaniards peaceably and with much show of welcome. In Tiguex was found an Indian slave called by the Spaniards El Turco from his resemblance to the Turks, who said he had come from a rich country in the east where were numbers of great animals with shaggy mains. Evidently, the buffalo or bison now first heard of. Sometime later being brought into the presence of Coronado El Turco had a more wonderful story to tell to the effect that in his land there was a river in the level country which was two leagues wide in which were fishes as big as horses and large numbers of very big canoes with more than twenty rowers on a side and carrying sails, and their lords sat on the poop under awnings and on the prow they had a great golden eagle. He said also that the lord of that country took his afternoon nap under a great tree on which there were hung a large number of little gold bells which put him to sleep as they swung in the air. He said also that everyone had his ordinary dishes made of wrought plate and the jugs, plates, and bowls were of gold. No doubt it was the love of the strangers for the yellow metal that inspired El Turco to these alluring stories in the hope of getting rid of the unwelcome visitors. At any rate this was the effect it had. After wintering in the villages of the Tiguas which the Spaniards had assailed and taken they set out in the following April in search of Cuivira, the land of gold which El Turco had painted in such enticing colors. Against the advice of El Turco they loaded the horses with provisions, the imaginative Indians saying that this was useless as the laden animals could not bring back the gold and silver. Scarcely to his liking the romancing Indian was taken with them as a guide. On for many leagues they went until the Pekos River was crossed and the great northern plains were reached, they being now in a flat and treeless country covered with high grasses and peopled by herds of the great maimed animals which El Turco had described. These strange creatures were seen in extraordinary numbers, so abundant that one day when a herd was put to flight they fell in such a multitude into a ravine as nearly to fill it up so that the remainder of the herd crossed on the dead bodies. Various tribes of Indians were met, the story they told not at all agreeing with that of El Turco, who accordingly was now put in chains. Coronado not wishing to subject all his companions to suffering but eager still to reach the fabled Quivira, at length sent all his followers back except thirty horsemen and six foot soldiers with whom he continued his journey to the north, the bison supplying them with abundance of food. For six weeks they marched onward, crossing at the end of thirty days a wide stream which is thought to have been the Arkansas river, and at last reached Quivira which seems to have lain in the present state of Kansas. A pleasing land it was of hills and dales and fertile meadows, but in place of El Turco's many storied stone houses only rude wigwams were to be seen, and the civilized people proved to be naked savages. The only yellow metal scene was a copper plate worn by one of the chiefs and some bells of the same substance. The utmost Coronado could do was to set up a cross and claim this wide region in the name of his master, and his chief satisfaction was in strangling El Turco for his many embellished lies. We shall not describe the return journey though it was not lacking in interesting incidents. Finally, having lost many of their horses, being harassed by the Indians and suffering from all want of provisions, the way a worn army reached known soil in the valley of Kulyakan. Here all discipline was at an end, and the disorganized army straggled for leagues down the valley, all Coronados and treaties failing to restore any order to the ranks. At length the sorely disappointed commander presented himself before the Viceroy Mendoza, with scarcely a hundred ragged followers, who alone remained with him of the splendid cavalcade with which he had set out. Thus ended the story of the last of the conquistadores, who had found only villages of barbarians and tribes of half-naked savages, and returned empty-handed from his long chase after the will of the wisp of Quivira and its fleeting treasures. Little did he dream that Quivira would yet become the central region of one of the greatest civilized nations of the world and rich in productions beyond his most avaricious vision. THE EARLY HISTORY OF AMERICA HAS FEW ROMANTIC TAILS OF LOVE IN DEVOTION, BUT THERE IS ONE WOVENIN WITH THE HISTORY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF BOINUS ARRES, THE MODERN ARGENTINA, WHICH IS TOLD BY ALL THE HISTORIANS OF THE TIME, AND WHICH EXISTS AS THE ONE STRIKING LOVE ROMANCE OF THE SPANISH CONQUEST. IT HAS BEEN DOUTED, IT IS TRUE, BUT IT WILL NOT DO TO DISTMISS ALL THE SHIVILRIST TAILS OF THE PAST ON THE PLEE THAT HISTORICAL CRITICS HAVE QUESTIONED THEM. IT MAY NOT BE GENERALLY KNOWN TO OUR READERS THAT THE MAN WHO EXPLORED AND TOOK POSSESSION OF THE GREAT RIVERS OF BUENAS ARRES FOR SPAIN WAS SEBASTIAN CABOT. HE, WHO MANY YEARS BEFORE, HAD WITH HIS FATHER DISCOVERED NORTH AMERICA IN THE SERVICE OF INGLAND. IT WAS IN THE YEAR 1526 THAT HE SAILED UP THE NOVAL RIVER WHICH HE NAMED THE RIODOLA PLATA, A NAME SUGESTED BY THE BARS OF SILVER WHICH HE OBTAINED FROM THE INDIANS ON ITS BANKS. Sailing some hundred miles up the Paraguay River, he built at the mouth of the river Zarkarana, a stronghold which he named the Fort of the Holy Ghost. Some three years later, Cabot set sail for Spain, leaving Nuno de Lara as commander of this fort, with a garrison of 120 men. These historical details are important as a necessary setting for the love romance which followed the founding of this fort. Lara, being left with his handful of men as the only whites in a vast territory peopled with Indians, felt strongly that in his situation prudence was the better part of valor, and strove to cultivate friendly relations with the nearest and most powerful of these tribes, the Timbues. His success in this brought about in an unexpected manner his death and the loss of the fort with other evils in their train. The tragedy came on in this way. Sebastian Hortado, one of Lara's principal officers, had brought with him his wife, Lucia Miranda, a Spanish lady of much beauty and purity of soul. During the frequent visits which Mangora, the casique of the Timbues, paid to the fort, he saw this lady and became enamoured of her charms so deeply that he could not conceal the evidence of his love. Miranda was not long in observing the ardent looks of the Indian chief and in understanding their significance, and the discovery filled her with dread and alarm. Knowing how important it was for the commandant to keep on good terms with this powerful chief and fearing that she might be sacrificed to this policy, she did her utmost to keep out of his sight, and also to guard against any surprise or violence, not knowing to what extremes the passion of love might lead an Indian. Mangora, on his part, laid covert plans to get the fair lady out of the fort, and with this in view pressed Hortado to pay him a visit and bring his wife with him. This the Spaniard was loath to do, for Miranda had told him of her fears and he suspected the Indian's design. With the policy demanded by the situation he declined the invitations of the chief on the plea that a Castilian soldier could not leave his post of duty without permission from his commander, and that honour forbade him to ask that permission except to fight his enemies. The wily chief was not duped by this reply. He saw that Hortado suspected his purpose and the removal of the husband seemed to him a necessary step for its accomplishment. While seeking to devise a plan for this he learned to his great satisfaction that Hortado and another officer with fifty soldiers had left the fort on an expedition to collect provisions of which a supply was needed. Here was the opportunity which the treacherous chief awaited. It not only removed the husband but weakened the garrison, the protectors of the wife in his absence. Late one day the chief placed four thousand armed men in ambush in a marsh near the fort and then set out for it with thirty others laden with provisions. Reaching the gates he sent word to Lara that he had heard of his want of food and had brought enough to serve him until the return of Hortado and his men. This show of friendship greatly pleased Lara. He met the chief with warm demonstrations of gratitude and insisted on entertaining him and his followers. So far the scheme of the treacherous Indian had been successful. The men in the marsh had their instructions and patiently awaited the fixed signals while the feast in the fort went on till the night was well advanced. When it broke up the Spaniards were given time to retire. Then the food-bearing Indians set fire to the magazines and the ambushed savages responding to the signal broke into the fort and ruthlessly cut down all the Spaniards they met. Those who had gone to bed were killed in their sleep or slain as they sprang up an alarm. The governor was severely wounded but had strengthened after revenge himself on the faithless Mangora whom he rushed upon and ran through the body with his sword. In a moment more he was himself slain. At the close of the attack of all the Spaniards in the fort only the women and children remained alive, spared no doubt by order of the chief. These consisted of the hapless Miranda, the innocent cause of this bloody catastrophe, four other women and as many children. The weeping captives were bound and brought before Saripa, the brother of Mangora, and his successor as Kaseek of the tribe. No sooner had the new chief gazed on the woman whom his brother had loved, her beauty heightened in his eyes by her grief and woe, then a like passion was born in his savage soul and he had once ordered his men to remove her bonds. He then told her that she must not consider herself a captive and solicited her favour with gentleness and a dress that love can implant in the breast of a savage as well as of the son of civilization. Her husband he told her was a forlorn fugitive in the forests of a hostile country. He was the chief of a powerful nation and could surround her with luxuries and wealth. Could she hesitate to accept his love in preference to that of a man who was lost to her? These persuasions excited only horror and anguish in the soul of the faithful wife. Her love for her husband was proof against all that Saripa could say, and also against the fear of slavery or death which might follow her rejection of his suit. In fact, death seemed to her a smaller evil than life as the wife of this savage suitor, and she rejected his offers with scorn and with a bitter contempt which she hoped would excite his rage and induce him to put her to instant death. Her flashing eyes and excited words, however, had a very different effect from that she intended. They served only to heighten her charms in the eyes of the kaseek, and he became more earnest than ever in his persuasions. Taking her to his village, he treated her with every mark of kindness and gentleness, and showed her the utmost respect and civility, doubtless hoping in this way to win her esteem and raise a feeling in her breast corresponding to his own. Meanwhile her tido and his men returned with the provisions they had collected, and viewed with consternation the ruins of the fort which they had so lately left. Their position was a desperate one, alone and undefended as they were in the midst of treacherous tribes, but the fears which troubled the minds of his comrades did not affect that of her tado. He learned that his wife was a captive in the hands of the kaseek of Timbu'ez, and love and indignation in his soul suppressed all other feelings. With a temerity that seemed the height of imprudence, he sought alone the village of the chief and demanded the release of his wife. Siripa heard his request with anger at his presumption, and savage joy at having at his mercy the man who stood between him and the object of his affections. Determined to remove this obstacle to his suit, he had once ordered him to be seized, bound to a tree, and pierced with arrows. This was not unseen by Miranda and filled with anguish. She rushed out, cast herself at the Indian's feet, and pitifully pleaded with him for her husband's life. The force of beauty and grief prevailed. Her tado was unbound, but he was still kept in captivity. Remember as Siripa was, he had all the undisciplined passions of a savage, and the fate of husband and wife alike was at constant risk in his hands. Now, tormented with the fury of jealousy, he seemed bent on sacrificing the husband to his rage. Again, the desire of winning the esteem of Miranda softened his soul, and he permitted the husband and wife to meet. As the days of captivity passed, the strictness of their detention was relaxed, and they were permitted greater freedom of action. As a result, they met each other more frequently and under less restraint. But this growing leniency in the kaseek had its limits. They might converse, but they were warned against indulging in any of the fond caresses of love. Jealousy still burned in his soul, and if Miranda would not become his, he was resolved that no one else should enjoy the evidence of her affection. The situation was a painful one. Husband and wife, as her tado and Miranda were, they continued lovers as well, and it was not easy to repress the feelings that moved them. Prudence bade them avoid any show of love, and they resolved to obey its dictates. But prudence is weak where love commands, and in one fatal moment, Serepa surprised them, clasped in each other's arms and indulging in the ardent kisses of love. Filled with wild jealousy at the sight and carried away by ungovernable fury at their contempt of his authority and their daring disregard of his feelings, he ordered them both to instant execution. Her tado's old sentence was renewed. He was bound to a tree and his body pierced with arrows. As for Miranda, she was sentenced by the jealous and furious savage to a more painful death, that of the flames. Yet painful as it was, the loyal wife doubtless preferred it to yielding to the passion of the chief, and as a quick means of rejoining in soul life her lover and husband. ascends the most romantic and tragical story of love and faith that the early annals of America have to show, and the fate of the faithful Miranda has become a classic in the love lore of the America of the South. CHAPTER 11 LONTARO, THE BOY HERO OF THE ARRUKANIANS The river Biobio in southern Chile was for centuries the boundary between liberty and oppression in South America. South of it lay the land of the Arrucanians, that brave and warlike people who preserved their independence against the Whites, the only Indian nation in America of which this can be said. Valorus and daring as were the American Indians, their arms and their arts were those of the savage, and the great multitude of them were unable to stand before the weapons and the discipline of their white invaders. But such was not the case with the valiant Arrucanians. From the period of Almagro, the companion of Pizarro and the first invader of Chile, down to our own days these bold Americans fought for and retained their independence, holding the Biobio as their natural frontier and driving army after army from their soil. Not until 1882 did they consent to become citizens of Chile and then of their own free will, and they still retained their native habits and their pride in their pure blood. The most heroic and intrepid of the Indian races, they defied the armies of the Incas long before the Spaniards came, and the armies of the Spaniards for centuries afterwards. And though they have now consented to become a part of the Chilean nation, this has not been through conquest, and they are as independent in spirit today as in the warlike years of the past. Their hardy and daring character infects the whole of Chile, and has given that little republic, drawn out like a long string between the Andes and the sea, the reputation of being one of the most warlike and unyielding of countries, while to its people has been applied the suggestive title of, the Yankees of the South. It would need a volume to tell the deeds of the heroes who arose in succession to defend the land of Arucania from the arms of those who so easily overturned the mighty empire of Peru. We shall therefore confine ourselves to the exploits of one of the earliest of these, a youthful warrior with a genius for war that might have raised him to the rank of a great commander, had not death early cut short his career. The second Spaniard who attempted the conquest of this valiant people was Pedro de Valdevilla, the quartermaster of Pizarro, an able soldier, but one of those who fancied that a handful of Spanish Cavaliers were a match for the strongest of the Indian tribes. He little knew the spirit of the race with which he would have to deal. Southward from Peru marched the bold Valdevilla, with two hundred Spaniards at his back. With them as aides to conquest was brought a considerable force of Peruvians, also priests and women, for he proposed to settle and hold the lands as his own after he had conquered it. Six hundred miles southward he went, fighting the hostile natives at every step, and on the 14th of February, 1541, stopped and laid the foundations of a town which he named Santiago. This still stands as the modern Santiago, a city of three hundred thousand souls. We do not propose to tell the story of Valdevilla's wars with the many tribes of Chile. He was in that land nine years before his conquests brought him to the B.O.B.O. and the land of the Oroconians, with whom alone we are concerned. On the coast near the mouth of this river he founded a new town which he named Concepción, and made this the basis of an invasion of the land of the Oroconians, whom he proposed to subdue. As it happened, the Oroconian leader at this time was a man with the body of a giant and the soul of a dwarf. He timidly kept out of the way of the Spaniards until they had overrun most of the country, built towns and forts, and had reason to believe that the whole of Chile was theirs. Valdevilla went on founding cities until he had seven in all, and gave himself the proud title of the Marquis of Oroco, fancying that he was Lord and Master of the Oroconians. He was too hasty. Oroco was not yet his. A new state of affairs began when the Oroconians, disgusted with the timid policy of their leader, chose a bolder man named Capolican as their toky or head chief. A daring and able man, the new toky, soon taught the Spaniards a lesson. He began with an attack on their forts. At one of these, named Oroco, the invaders had eighty Indians employed in bringing them forage for their horses. The wily Capolican replaced these labourers by eighty of his own warriors, who hid their arms in the bundles of hay they carried. On reaching the fort they were to attack the guards and hold the gates till their ambushed comrades could come to their aid. This device failed, the garrison attacking and driving back the forage bearers before Capolican could reach the place. Foiled in this, he made a fierce assault upon the fort, but the fire of eighty cannons proved too much for Indian means of defence, and the assailants were forced to draw back and convert their assault into a siege. This did not continue long before the Spaniards found themselves in perilous starvation. Vainly they sallied out on their assailants, who were not to be driven off. And finally, hopeless of holding the fort, the beleaguered garrison cut its way by a sudden night attack through the besieging lines and retired to the neighbouring fort of Puden. A similar result took place at another fort called Tukapel, its garrison also seeking a refuge at Puden. When news of these events reached Valdivia, he saw that his conquests were in peril, and at once set out for the seat of war with all his forces, amounting to about two hundred Spaniards and four or five thousand Indians. A small party of cavalry were dispatched in advance to reconnoiter the enemy, but they were all killed by the Arakhanians, and their heads were hung on roadside trees as a warning to their approaching comrades. This gruesome spectacle had much of the effect intended. On seeing it, many of the Spaniards were dismayed and clamoured to return. But Valdivia insisted on advancing, and on the third of December, 1553, the two armies came inside of each other at Tukapel. Valdivia soon found that he had no ordinary Indians to deal with. These were not of the kind that could be dispersed by a squadron of cavalry. A fierce charge was made on his left wing, which was cut to pieces by the daring warriors of Kaupolican. The right wing was also vigorously attacked, but the artillery and musketry of the Spaniards were mowing down the ranks of the Arakhanians, whose rude war-clubs and spears were ill-fitted to cope with those death-dealing weapons. Driven back and hundreds of them falling, they returned with heroic courage three times to the assault. But at length the slaughter became too great to bear, and the warriors were ready to flee and dismay. At this critical moment the first great hero of the Arakhanians appeared. He was a boy of only sixteen years of age, a mere lad, who some time before had been captured by Valdivia, baptized and made his page. But young as he was, he loved his country ardently and hated the invaders with a bitter hate, and it was this youthful hero who saved the day for his countrymen, and snatched victory out of defeat. Leaving the Spanish ranks at the moment the Arakhanians were shrinking in dismay, he rushed into their ranks, called loudly on them to turn, accused them of cowardice, and bade them to face their foes like men. Seizing a lance he charged alone on the Spaniards, calling on his countrymen to follow him. Inspired by his example and his cries, the Arakhanians charged with such fury that the ranks of the Spaniards and their allies were broken, and they were cut down until the whole force was annihilated. It is said that of the entire expedition only two Indians escaped. Valdivia, who had retired with his chaplain to pray on seeing the fortune of war turning against him, was seized by a party of the victors and brought before Kaupolicon. The dismayed captive begged the chief for his life, promising to leave Chile with all his Spaniards. Seeing Lantaro his late page he asked him to intercede with the chief, and this the generous boy did. But the Arakhanians had little faith in Spanish promises, and an old warrior, who stood near, ended the matter by raising his war-club and dashing out the captive's brains. Thus tragically ended the career of one of the least cruel of the Spanish conquerors. He paid the penalty of his disdain of Indian courage. Lantaro, the boy-hero, had the blood of chiefs in his veins and was endowed by nature with beauty of person, nobleness of character, and intrepidity of soul. His people honoured him highly in the festival with which they celebrated their victory, and Kaupolicon appointed him his special lieutenant, raising him to a rank in the army nearly equal to his own. There was fighting still to be done. The leader of the Spaniards was dead, but he had left many behind him, and there were still strongholds in the Indian country held by Spanish arms. On hearing of the terrible disaster to their cause, the Spaniards hastily evacuated their forts beyond the Biobio, and retired to the towns of Imperial and Valdivia. Here they were besieged by Kaupolicon, while Lantaro was given the difficult task of defending the borderland about the frontier stream. The youthful general had once fortified himself on the steep mount of Mariguenu, a fort made very strong by nature. Meanwhile, the two Indians who had escaped from Tukapel brought the news of the disaster to Concepción, filling the minds of the people with terror. The tidings of an attack on a party of fourteen horsemen, of whom seven were slain, added to the dismay. The fact that they were now dealing with a foe to whom artillery and cavalry had lost their terrors was not reassuring to the invaders of the land. Evidently their position was hazardous. They must fight to win or retreat. Via Grau, who was chosen to succeed Valdivia, decided to fight. With a small army of Spaniards and a strong body of Indians, he crossed the Biobio and marched upon Lantaro and his men, ascending Mount Mariguenu to attack the stronghold on its top. Boy, as Lantaro was, he showed the skill of an old soldier in dealing with his well-armed foe. While the Spaniards were toiling up a narrow pass of the mountain, a strong force of Urukhanians fell upon them and for three hours gave them as sharp a fight as they had yet encountered. Then the Indians withdrew to the strong palisade behind which Lantaro awaited the foe. Up the side of the steep mountain rode a party of Spanish horsemen, with the purpose of forcing a passage. But near the summit they were met with such a storm of arrows and other missiles that it became necessary to support them with infantry and artillery. Lantaro, vigilant in the defence, endeavored to surround the Spaniards with a body of his warriors, but the success of this stratagem was prevented by the advance of Via Grau to their support. The battle now grew hot, the artillery in particular sweeping down the ranks of the Indians. At this critical juncture Lantaro showed that he was a born captain. Calling to him one of his officers, named Lukoton, he said, You see those thunder-tubes? It is from them our trouble comes. There is your work. Do not dare show your face to me until you have made them your own. Lukoton at once rushed forward with his company and fell in fury upon the battery, driving back the gunners and capturing their cannon. This successful charge was followed by Lantaro with a fierce attack on the Spanish front, which broke their ranks, throwing them into confusion and putting them to flight. The defeat was ruinous, three thousand of the Spaniards and their allies being slain, while Via Grau was saved with difficulty and at the risk of their lives by three of his men, who picked him up where he lay wounded and carried him off on his horse. In their flight the Spaniards had to traverse again the defile by which they had ascended. Lantaro had sent men to obstruct it by felled trees, and the few remaining Spaniards had a severe fight before they could escape. The Arucanians pursued them to the B.O.B.U., fatigue preventing their following beyond that stream. The fugitives continued their flight until Concepción was reached, and here the old men and women were speedily sent north in ships, while the other inhabitants fled from the city in a panic and started for Santiago by land. All their property was left, and the victors found a rich prize when they entered the city. Lantaro, after destroying the place, returned home to be greeted with the acclamations of his people. We must deal more rapidly with the remaining events of the boy hero's career. Sometime after this defeat the Spaniards attempted to rebuild Concepción, but while thus employed they were attacked and defeated by Lantaro, who pursued them again through the open gates of their fortress and took possession of the stronghold, the people again fleeing to the woods and the ships in the harbor. Once more burning the city Lantaro withdrew in triumph. The Chilean Hannibal, as Lantaro has been with much justice called, now advanced against Santiago with six hundred picked men, as an aide to Capolican, in his siege of Imperial and Valdivia. Reaching the country of the Indian allies of the Spanish, the youthful general laid it to waste. He then fortified himself on the banks of the Rio Claro and sent out spies into the country of the enemy. At the same time a body of Spanish horsemen were sent from the city to reconnoiter the position of their enemies, but they were met and driven back in dismay being severely handled by the Arocanians. The news of their repulse filled the people of Santiago with consternation. Via Grau being ill he dispatched his son Pedro against Lantaro and ordered the roads leading to the city to be fortified. Young Pedro proved no match for his still-younger but much shrewder opponent. When the Spaniards attacked him Lantaro withdrew as if in a panic, the Spaniards following tumultuously into the fortifications. Once inside the Indians turned on them and cut them down so furiously that none but the horsemen escaped. Three times Pedro attacked Lantaro, but each time was repulsed. The young Spanish leader then withdrew into a meadow, while Lantaro encamped on a neighboring hill with the design in mind of turning the waters of a mountain stream on Pedro's camp. Fortunately for the latter a spy informed him of the purpose to drown him out and he hastily retired to Santiago. Via Grau had now got well again and relieved his son of the task which had proved too much for him. At the head of a strong force he took a secret route by the seashore with the purpose of surprising the Arocanian camp. At daybreak the cries of his sentinel aroused Lantaro to the impending danger and he sprang up and hurried to the side of his works to observe the coming enemy. He had hardly reached there when an arrow from the bow of one of the Spanish allies pierced him with a mortal wound and the gallant boy leader fell dead in the arms of his followers. A fierce combat followed, the works being stormed and the fight not ending till none of the Arocanians remained alive. The Spaniards then withdrew to Santiago, where for three days they celebrated the death of their foe. While his countrymen, made by his fall, at once abandoned the siege of the invested cities and returned home. A remarkable career was that of this young captain, begun at sixteen and ending at nineteen. History presents no rival to his precocious military genius, though in the centuries of war for independence in his country, many older heroes of equal fame and daring arose for the defense of their native land against the Spanish foe. CHAPTER XII. At the end of October 1578, Sir Francis Drake, the Sea King of Devon, as he was called, and the most daring and persistent of the enemies of the Spanish settlements in America, sailed from Cape Horn at the southern extremity of the Continent and steered northward into the Great Pacific with the golden realm of Peru for his goal. A year before he had left the harbor of Plymouth, England with a fleet of five well-armed ships. But these had been lost or left behind until only the golden hind, a ship of one hundred tons burden, was left, the flagship of the little squadron. Of the one hundred and sixty men with whom he started, only about sixty remained. The bold Drake had previously made himself terrible to the Spaniards of Mexico and the West Indies, and had won treasure within sight of the walls of Panama. Now for the first time the foot of a white man trod the barren rocks of Cape Horn and the keel of an English ship cut the Pacific waves. Here were treasure-laden Spanish galleons to take and rich Spanish cities to raid, and the hearts of the adventurers were full of hope of a golden harvest as they sailed north into that unknown sea. Onward they sailed nearing the scene of the famous adventures of Pizarro, and about the first of December entered a harbor on the coast of Chile. Before them, at no raid distance, lay sloping hills on which sheep and cattle were grazing, and corn and potatoes growing. They landed to meet the natives who came to the shore and seemed delighted with the presence which were given them. But soon afterwards Drake and a boatload of his men, who had gone on shore to procure fresh water, were fiercely attacked by ambushed Indians, and every man on board was wounded before they could pull away. Even some of their oars were snatched from them by the Indians, and Drake was wounded by an arrow in the cheek, and struck by a stone on the side of his face. Furious at this unprovoked assault, the crew wished to attack the hostile natives, but Drake refused to do so. No doubt the poor fellows take us for Spaniards, he said, and we cannot blame them for attacking any man from Spain. Some days later, a native fisherman was captured and brought on board the ship. He was in a terrible fright but was reassured when he learned that his captors were not Spaniards, but belonged to a nation whose people did not love Spain. He was highly pleased with a chopping-knife and a piece of linen cloth that were given him, and was sent ashore promising to induce his people to sell some provisions to the ship's crew. He kept his word, and a good supply of fowls and eggs, and a fat hog were obtained. With the boat came off an Indian chief. Glad to see any white man who hated the Spaniards as deeply as he did himself. He was well received and served to the best the ship could afford. Then he said to his entertainer in Spanish, a language he spoke fairly well, �If you were at war with the Spaniards I will be glad to go with you, and I think I can be of much use to you. The city of Valparaiso lies not far south of here, and in its harbor is a large galleon, nearly ready to sail with a rich treasure. We should all like much to have you capture that vessel.� This was good news to Drake. The next day the Golden Hind turned its prow down the coast under full sail with the friendly native on board. When Valparaiso was reached Drake saw to his delight that his dusky pilot had told the truth. There lay a great galleon flying a Spanish flag. Not dreaming of an enemy in those waters the Spaniards were unsuspicious until the Golden Hind had been laid alongside, and its armed crew were clambering over the bulwarks. The rich prize was captured almost without a blow. The crew secured, Drake searched for the expected treasure and to his joy found that she was laden with over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in gold coin and with other costly goods, including about two thousand jars of chili wine. This rich blender was transferred to the hold of the Golden Hind, and the Spanish ship left to her disconsulate captain and crew. After celebrating this victory with a gleeful feast in which the rich vions obtained were washed down freely with the captured wine, an armed force was sent ashore to raid the town, whose people fled hurriedly to the field when they saw the hostile strangers approaching. In the deserted houses and the church a fair supply of gold and silver spoil was found, and what was equally welcome, an abundant addition to their scanty store of provisions. Greatly the richer for her raid, the Golden Hind set sail again up the coast, putting the native pilot ashore at the place where he had wished to land, and enriching him in a way that drew from him eager protestations of joy and gratitude. Good and bad fortune attended the adventurers in this voyage up the South American coast. One of the examples of good fortune came at a place called Tarapaza, where a boatload of men who had gone ashore came upon a Spaniard lying fast asleep on the bank of a small stream. By his side, to their surprise, were thirteen heavy bars of solid silver. The sleepy treasure-bearer and her silver were speedily secured. Farther inland the party met with another Spaniard and an Indian boy who were driving some sheep, with bulging bags upon their backs. On opening those they were found also to contain silver bars. It was a joyous party that returned to the Golden Hind with the treasure thus unexpectedly obtained, and it began to look almost as if the country grew silver. The next raid of the adventurers was at a place called Arrica, a small seaport town at the output of a beautiful and fertile valley. Here lay two or three Spanish vessels which were quickly captured and searched for goods of value. The town was not taken, for a native whom Drake met here told him of a Spanish galleon heavily laden with a valuable cargo which had recently passed up the coast. Here was better hope for spoil than in a small coastwise town. And the Golden Hind was speedily under sail again. A great galleon as ahead of us said Drake to his men, I am told she is richly laden. The first man of you who sets eyes on her will win my hearty thanks and a heavy gold chain into the bargain. It may well be imagined that the eyes of the sailors were kept wide open in the days that followed. The man to win the Golden Chain was John Drake, the admiral's brother, who rushed to him one morning as he came on deck with the glad tidings, yonder is the galleon. He pointed to the far northern horizon where the sails of a great ship were just becoming visible through the morning haze. Make all sail was the cry, and the English cruiser glided swiftly forward before the fresh breeze towards the slow-moving Spanish ship. Not dreaming of such an unlikely thing as an English ship in those waters, as yet never broken except by a Spanish keel, the captain of the galleon took the stranger for a craft of his own nation, and shortened sail as the Golden Hind came up, signalling for its officers to come on board. Drake did so with a strong body of armed sailors, and when the Spanish captain learned his mistake it was too late to resist. The crew of the galleon were put under hatches, and her cargo, which proved to be rich in gold and silver, was quickly transferred to the Golden Hind. Then captain and crew of the galleon were put ashore, and the captured ship was set adrift to try her chances without pilot or helmsman in those perilous seas. The next storm probably made her a grave in the breakers. Great had been the spoil gathered by the English Rovers, a rich wealth of treasure being within the coffers of the Golden Hind, while she was abundantly supplied with provisions. Drake now thought of returning home with the riches he had won for himself and his comrades, but the port of Lima, Pizarro's capital, lay not far up the coast, and here he hoped for a rich addition to his spoil. Though satisfied that a messenger had been sent from Valpariso to warn the people of the presence of an armed English ship on the coast, he had no doubt of reaching Lima in advance of news brought over land. On reaching the port of Lima a number of Spanish vessels were found, and their captains being unsuspicious, were easily taken. But they contained no cargos worth the capture. The port of Lima lays several miles inland from the port, and the governor, on hearing of those depredations, imagined that the stranger must be a Spanish vessel that had fallen into the hands of pirates and was on a free-booting cruise. While he was making preparations for her capture, the messenger from Valpariso arrived and told him the real character of the unwelcome visitor. This news spurred the governor to increased exertions. An armed English warship on their coast was a foe more to be dreaded than a pirate, and the wealth it had taken at Valpariso was amply worth recapture. With all haste the governor got together a force of two thousand men, horse, and foot, and at their head hurried to the port. There in the offing was the dangerous rover, lying motionless in a calm, and offering a promising chance for capture. Hastily getting ready to spend his ships and manning them heavily from his forces, he sent them out, favoured by a land breeze which had not reached Drake's sails. But before they had gone far, the Golden Hind felt the welcome wind and was soon gliding through the water. With his small force it was hopeless for the English captain to face the strongly armed Spaniards, and his only hope for safety lay in flight. The pursuit went on hour after hour, the Spaniards at times coming near enough to reach the Golden Hind with their shots. As the wind varied in strength, now the chase, now the pursuers gained in speed. The Spanish ships proved fair sailors, and might in the end have overhauled the Englishmen, but for precaution the governor had neglected in his haste. Expecting to capture the English ship in a short run, he had not thought of provisioning his vessels, and as the chase went on their small food supply gave out, and the soldiers were nearly famished. In the end the governor, who was on board, was reluctantly forced to order a return to port. Yet he did not give up hope of capturing the English rovers. On reaching Lima he sent out three more ships, this time fully provisioned. But Drake and his men had won too good a start to be overtaken, and the new pursuers never came within sight of him. Homeward bound within an abundant treasure, the rovers pressed merrily on. To return by the Straits of Magellan seemed too risky a venture with the Spaniards keenly on the alert, and the adventurous Englishmen decided to sail north, expecting to be able to find a passage through the seas north of the American continent. The icy and impassable character of these seas was at that early date quite unknown. Onward through the Spanish waters they went, taking new prizes and adding to their store of treasure as they advanced. The coast-wise towns were also visited and booty obtained from them. At length the South American continent was left behind, and the Golden Hind was off the coast of Central America. About mid-April they left the shore and stood out to sea, at last bound definitely for home. Drake fancied that the Pacific coast stretched due northward to the limit of the continent, where he hoped to find an easy passage back to the Atlantic. But after more than five weeks of a northwestered course, gradually verging to due north, he was surprised to see land again to his right. At first, taking it for a large island, he soon learned that he had met the continent again and that America here stretched to the northwest. He was off the coast of the country now called California, in a new region which English eyes had never seen, though Spaniards had been there before. The land seemed well peopled with Indians, very different in character and degree of civilization from those of Peru. They were simple-minded savages, but very friendly. Fortunately so, since, as they lay in harbor, the ship sprang a leak and it became necessary to take measures to repair the damage. The ship was anchored in shallow water near the shore, her cargo and provisions were landed and stored, and steps taken to make the necessary repairs. While this was going on, the mariners were visited by the savages in large numbers, occasionally with what were thought to be the signs of hostility, but their friendliness never ceased, and when at length, their visitors, with whom they had established very amicable relations, were ready to depart, they manifested the greatest grief moaning, wringing their hands and shedding tears. The harbor of the Golden Hind was, in or near, what is now called the Golden Gate, the entrance to the magnificent bay of San Francisco. On the twenty-third of July, 1579, the ship weighed anchor and sailed out of the harbor. On the hillside in the rear was gathered a large body of Indians, some of them fantastically attired in skins and adorned with feathers, others naked but for the painted signs which covered their bodies. They built bonfires in all directions in token of farewell, and Drake and his officers stood on deck waving their hats to their new-made friends. Slowly, the hill with its fires of friendships disappeared from view, and they were on the open ocean again. From this point, the ship sailed northward, skirting the coast. But the farther they went, the colder the weather became, until it grew so bleak that it was deemed necessary to give up the hope of reaching home by the northern route. Yet to return by the way they had come would be very dangerous with their small force, as the Spaniards would probably be keenly on the lookout for them. Only one course remained which was to follow the route taken by Magellan six years before, across the vast Pacific, through the islands of Asia and around the Cape of Good Hope. Drake had with him the narratives and copies of the charts of the first circumnavigator of the globe, and it struck him that it would be a great and glorious thing to take the Golden Hind around the earth, and win him the credit of being the first Englishman to accomplish this wonderful task. The prow of the Golden Hind was thereupon turned to the west. Quick and prosperous was the voyage, the sea being almost free from storms, and after sixty-eight days in which land had not been seen, a green shore came in view. It was the last day of September, 1579. The voyagers had many interesting experiences in the eastern archipelago, but no mishaps except that the ship was grounded on a rocky shoal near one of the islands. Fortunately there was no leak, and after throwing overboard eight of their cannon, three tons of cloves they had gathered in their voyage through the isles of spices and many bags of meal, the Golden Hind was got afloat again, none the worse for her dangerous misadventure. Stocking their vessel once more with spices and sago at the island of Bhutan, and meeting with a hospitable reception at the large island of Java, they sailed to the south, doubling the stormy cape of good hope without mishap, and entering the Atlantic again. Finally, on the 26th of September, 1580, the Golden Hind dropped anchor in Plymouth Harbour from which she had sailed nearly three years before, and with wealth enough to make all on board rich. Never had England been more full of joy and pride than when the news of the wonderful voyage of the Golden Hind round the world was received and its strange adventures told. Queen Elizabeth was glad to make a night of the bold sea-rover, changing his name from plain Francis Drake to Sir Francis Drake, and the people looked on him as their greatest hero of the sea. In our days, acts like his would have been called piracy, for England was not at war with Spain, but Drake was made a hero all the same, and in the war that soon after began, he did noble work in the great sea-fight with the Spanish Armada. CHAPTER XIII. GOLD was the beacon that lowered the Spaniards to America, and the dazzling stories were told by them of the riches of the countries they explored, stories illustrated by the marvellous wealth of Peru. It was well known that Cortes had not obtained all the treasures of Montezuma, or Pizarro, all those of Adahualpa, and many believed that these treasures had been carried far away by the servants of those unhappy monarchs. Guyana, the northeastern section of South America, was looked upon by the Spanish adventurers as the hiding place of this fabulous wealth. The land of the rich was the true Eldorado in itself, a land marvellously rich in gold, silver, and precious stones. Gonzalo Pizarro, in his expedition in 1540, had heard much from the Indians of this land of wealth, and Oriana brought back from his famous descent of the Amazon marvellous stories of the riches in gold, silver, and precious stones of the lands of the north. These stories once set afloat, grew in wonder and magnitude through pure love of the marvellous or wild expansion of the fanciful tales of the Indians. Far inland, built on a lofty hill, so the fable ran, was a mighty city whose very street-watering troughs were made of solid gold and silver, while billets of gold lay about in heaps as if they were logs of wood marked out to burn. In this imperial city dwelt in marvellous magnificence a mighty king. The legend went that it was a habit of his to cover his body with turpentine and then roll in gold dust till he gleamed like a veritable golden image. Then entering his barge of state with a retinue of nobles whose dresses glittered with gems, they would sail around a beautiful lake, ending their tour by a bath in the cooling waters. Where was this city? Who had seen its golden blazing king? Certainly none of those who went in search of it or its monarch. Of the Spanish adventurers who sought for that land of treasure, the most persistent was a bold explorer named Bereo, who landed in new Granada and set out thence with a large body of followers, seven hundred horsemen the story goes. His root lay along the river Negro, and then down the broad Orinoco. Boats were built for the descent of this great stream, but the root was difficult and exhausting, and the natives usually hostile, and as they went on many of the men and horses died or were slain. For more than a year these sturdy explorers pushed on, reaching a point from which, if they could believe the natives, the city they sought was not far away, and Guiana and its riches were near at hand. As evidence the Indians had treasure of their own to show, and gave Bereo ten images of fine gold which were so curiously wrought as he had not seen the like in Italy, Spain or the Low Countries. But as they went on the gallant seven hundred became reduced to a weary fraction, and these so eager to return home that their leader was forced to give up the quest. He sought the island of Trinidad near the coast of South America, and there as governor he dwelt for years, keeping alive in his soul the dream of some day going again in search of El Dorado. While Bereo was thus engaged there dwelt in England a man of romantic and adventurous nature named Walter Raleigh. He became afterwards famous as Sir Walter Raleigh, and for many years devoted himself to the attempt to plant an English colony on the coast of North America. On this project he spent much time and money, but ill fortune haunted him and all his colonies failed. Then he concluded to cross the ocean himself and restore his wasted wealth by preying on the Spanish treasure ships after the fashion of the bold Sir Francis Drake. But Queen Elizabeth put an end to this project by clapping him in prison on a matter of royal jealousy. While one of the Queen's lovers he had dared to marry another woman. While Raleigh lay in prison some of the ships of the fleet he had fitted out came back with the 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 Bereo 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 42 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 Bereo had failed to accomplish. Though the Spaniard had failed he had opened up what might prove the attract 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 Widen to feel the way and explore the mouth of the Orinoco which was deemed to be the gateway to the golden realm. Widen stopped at Trinidad and found Bereo 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 Widen found his crew so small that he was obliged to go back to England without seeing the Orinoco. Widen's report made Raleigh more eager than ever. He believed that Bereo 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, making 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 such sails and flying penins the stout ships moved slowly away on their voyage of chance and hope. Raleigh followed the example of the sea rovers of his day, seeing 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 firearms. 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 sited, 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 Borreo 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 chief set free, and the Governor himself made a prisoner. Raleigh, while holding the Spaniard as a captive on his flagship, treated him with every courtesy and had him to eat at his own table. Here Borreo, 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 sandbanks 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 shipsboat, and two wearies 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 trouble 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 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 the 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 waterways 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 presence 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. All 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 diverse 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 the 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 fouling 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 newcomers were the friends of the red men, and they were rewarded by every attention the natives could bestow upon them. Provisions were brought them in perfusion, 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 newcomers 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 marvelous city they had come so far to seek. The old chief told him that Guyana 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 rode 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 diverse 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 incarnation perching on the river's sides, 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 gold 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. 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. It 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. Since the first 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. CHAPTER XIV During the seventeenth century the Spanish Maine was beset with a horrid of free-booters or buccaneers as they called themselves, to whose fierce attacks the treasureships 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 warrent to their atrocities. Most ferocious and most successful among these were these 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 twenty-fourth of October 1670 there set sail from the island haunts of the free-booters, the greatest fleet which these lawless wretches had ever got together. It consisted of thirty-seven ships, small and large, Morgan's flagship 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. 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. Catherine where the Spaniards can find 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 defense. It was the emporium for the precious metals of Peru and Mexico, two thousand mules being kept for the transportation of those rich oars. 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 free-booters 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 Chagras 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 free-booters, 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 Chagras, among them the Admiral's ship. The crews and cargos were saved, but the vessels were total wrecks, much to Morgan's chagrin. At length on the eighteenth of January, sixteen-seventy-one, 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, with 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 an 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 root 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 drafts 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 were 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 Crusace, the head of the navigation on the Chagras, a number of vessels of wine were discovered. This they hastily drank with the result that all the drinkers fell ill and fancy 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 free-booters, 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 and 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 hilltop, 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 reconnoiter, and a second detachment occupied the passes to prevent the escape of the enemy in case of defeat. But the free-booters 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, skillfully 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 affect a retreat. The charge of the bulls on which so much reliance had been placed proved an equal failure, and with wild shouts the free-booters 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 free-booters 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 free-booters 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 and 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-day 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 ear on the eve of its execution, he defeated it by causing the main mass of the ship to be cut down, and afterwards by setting fire to all the ships in the harbor. The return of the freebooters has its items of interest. The booty consisting of gold, silver, and jewels was laden on a large number of animals, beside which disconsolently 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 a ransom on the march, but the majority were taken to Chagras. From there they were sent in a ship to Portobello, a neighboring coast town. Morgan threatening that place with the destruction unless a heavy ransom was sent to 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 free-booters 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 free-booting 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 free-booters. 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 honour 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.