Partial Solution of a Mystery.—Montbar’s Birth.—His Education and Delusions.—Anecdote of the Dramatic Performance.—Montbar Runs Away from Home.—Enters the Navy.—His Ferocious Exploits.—Joins the Buccaneers.—Desperate Battles on the Land and on the Sea.—His Final Disappearance.
Partial Solution of a Mystery.—Montbar’s Birth.—His Education and Delusions.—Anecdote of the Dramatic Performance.—Montbar Runs Away from Home.—Enters the Navy.—His Ferocious Exploits.—Joins the Buccaneers.—Desperate Battles on the Land and on the Sea.—His Final Disappearance.
Inreading the narrative of the cruelties practised by the pirates upon the Spaniards, the mind is often oppressed with the thought that a God of infinite love and power should have allowed such scenes to have been enacted. There is nothing conceivable, in intense and protracted torture, which was not inflicted upon men, women, and children. There is no satisfactory explanation of this great mystery of earth. Still there are considerations which may perhaps point in the direction of a solution.
The pirates seem to have been permitted to revenge upon the Spaniards the awful sufferings which they had inflicted upon the Indians. The Spanish armies of Cortez and Pizarro ravaged the homes of the innocent native inhabitants of those countries with ferocity and cruelty which Satan andhis legions could not possibly have surpassed. The Spaniards had thrown the Indian into the flames of the most awful misery. And then God allowed the pirate to throw the Spaniard into the same flames.
There was a celebrated pirate by the name of Montbar, who seemed to have been inspired with fanatical frenzy approaching maniacal fury against the whole Spanish nation. He was the child of one of the most opulent and respected families in Languedoc, in France. He had received all the advantages of education which wealth could afford. In the process of this education he had read the account of the atrocities practised by the Spaniards in their conquest of the islands and the continents of the New World.
The blood of this ardent young man seemed to boil in his veins, while pondering these fiend-like crimes. As a child he brooded over these tortures until he became almost insane. Soon he devoted himself to all martial exercises, that he might avenge the wrongs of the Indians. This generous but cruel determination grew rapidly into monomania. The animal forces of a mind of unusual energy were all concentrated in this direction. Revenge for the wrongs practised upon the Cubans, the Peruvians, the Mexicans occupied his thoughts by day andhis dreams by night. This became the all-absorbing passion of his soul.
Even when a child, practising with his cross-bow, he said, “I wish to shoot well, only that I may know how to kill the Spaniards.” George W. Thornbury, in his sketch of this singular man, alluding to the Spanish enormities in the New World, writes:
“Fanaticism, avarice, and ambition had ruled like a trinity of devils, over the beautiful regions desolated and plague-smitten by the Spaniards. Whole nations had become extinct. The name of Christ was polluted into the mere cipher of an armed and aggressive commerce. These books had impressed the gloomy boy with a deep, absorbing, fanatical hatred of the conquerors, and a fierce pity for the conquered.
“He believed himself marked out by God, as the Gideon sent to their relief. Dreams of riches and gratified ambition spurred him unconsciously to the task. He thought and dreamed of nothing but the murdered Indians. He inquired eagerly from travellers for news from America, and testified prodigious and ungovernable joy when he heard that the Spaniards had been defeated by the Caribs and the Bravos.
“He indeed knew by heart every deed of atrocitythat history recorded of his enemies, and would dilate upon each one, with a rude and impatient eloquence. The following story he was frequently accustomed to relate, and to gloat over with a look that indicated a mind capable of even greater cruelty, if once led away by a fanatic spirit of retaliation.
“‘A Spaniard’ the story ran, ‘was once upon a time appointed governor of an Indian province, which was inhabited by a fierce and warlike race of savages. He proved a cruel governor, unforgiving in his resentments, and insatiable in his avarice. The Indians, unable any longer to endure either his barbarities or his exactions, seized him, and showing him gold, told him that they had at last been able, by great good luck, to find enough to satisfy his demands. They then held him firm, and melting the ore, poured it down his throat, till he expired in torments under their hands.’”
The peculiarities of this young man were singularly exhibited on one occasion, which showed that his mental operations were so deranged that he could not calmly reflect upon anything connected with the Spanish nation. At one of the college exhibitions, a comedy was to be enacted by the students, in which Montbar was to take a part. During the performance there was a dialogue to take place between a Spaniard and a Frenchman.Montbar represented the Frenchman, and one of his companions the Spaniard.
The Spaniard appeared first upon the stage, and began to utter a tirade of extravagancies against France, denouncing and ridiculing the French in unmeasured terms. Montbar listened, with ever-increasing excitement, until he lost all self-control. The mimic scene in his mind became a reality. In a perfect fury he broke upon the stage; assailed the representative Spaniard like a maniac; called him a liar and a murderer; knocked him down, and would inevitably have killed him, had he not been dragged away by the terrified bystanders.
The boy developed a very active and powerful mind, and his wealthy father was very proud of him. His eccentricities did not alarm him, as he thought that contact with the world would soon remove them all. He wished his son to study some profession. But Montbar insisted upon entering the army. “I wish to learn to fight,” said he, “that I may kill the Spaniards.”
As his friends opposed his entering the army, he ran away from home, and found his way to Havre. Here he had an uncle who was in command of one of the king’s ships. France was then at war with Spain. The ship was just entering upon a cruise against the Spaniards. The uncle, pleased with the enthusiasmof the boy, and with the intensity of his desire to join the expedition, wrote to the father, and obtained his reluctant consent. In a few days the ship sailed.
The young fanatic kept a constant watch for the foe, evincing the most intense eagerness for an engagement. The moment any sail appeared, he armed himself, and seemed overjoyed with the thought that he might soon wreak vengeance on the Spaniards. At length, a Spanish ship appeared. Soon they met and exchanged broadsides. Montbar was quite intoxicated with joy. He was perfectly reckless. Not a thought of danger entered his mind. When the order was given to board, Montbar, sabre in hand, led the party, and was the first to leap on board the Spanish ship. He seemed to bear a charmed life, and to be endowed with herculean strength. He sought no assistance from his comrades, but plunged into the thickest of the enemy, hewing on his right hand and his left, with marvellous strength. Twice he rushed from end to end of the vessel, mowing down all who opposed him. He would give no quarter.
The Spaniards were overpowered. Their slaughter was awful. Montbar, dreaming that he was God’s appointed minister of vengeance, was in an ecstasy of exultation, as he cut down some, ran hissabre through the heart of others, and drove others into the sea. His spirit inspired the rest. Nearly every Spaniard was killed. His uncle succeeded in saving one or two.
The prize was found to be of immense value. The hold was crammed with riches. There was one casket of diamonds of almost priceless worth. While the captain and the crew were examining these treasures, and rejoicing over them, Montbar regarded them with entire indifference. He was counting the dead. Blood, not plunder, was what his soul craved.
As there was now war between France and Spain, the French buccaneers, even when acting without any formal commission, were regarded by the Government as engaged in legitimate warfare. The buccaneers of England, robbing Spanish commerce and Spanish colonies, were encouraged and aided by the French navy. The conflict we have described took place near the shores of St. Domingo. Montbar’s uncle learned, from his prisoners, that the ship he had captured had been separated by a storm from two others, and that they were bound to Port Margot on the island.
He immediately sailed to the vicinity of that port, where he kept watch. The vessel he had captured was used as a decoy. He placed French soldierson board, unfurled the flag of Spain, and stood off and on, waiting the arrival of the two vessels. While thus on the watch, some buccaneers, from the shore, came on board in canoes, with provisions to sell. They had been wrecked upon the coast; and while a part of their number had been at a distance from the camp hunting, the Spaniards had fallen upon them, put them to flight, and plundered their stores.
“Why do you suffer this?” exclaimed Montbar, indignantly.
“We do not mean to suffer it,” they replied. “We know what the Spaniards are, and what our power is. We are collecting our forces, and will soon take signal vengeance upon them.”
“Let me go with you,” said Montbar. “I do not ask to be your leader, but I will go at your head. I will be the first to expose myself, and will show you how I can fight these accursed Spaniards.”
Gladly they accepted his offer. His ardor and energy inspired them with great confidence in him. His uncle very reluctantly allowed him to go, cursing him as a foolish, hair-brained madcap, ever eager to push his head into danger. Yet the uncle was very proud of him. As young Montbar descended the side of the ship into a canoe, the captain saidexultingly to one at his side, “There goes as brave a lad as ever trod a plank.”
The buccaneers returned to their camp, and immediately, in a strong war-party, set out in search of the Spaniards. They threaded intricate paths through the woods, until they opened upon a small treeless prairie, which they called a savanna. Just before entering this field, which was surrounded by hills and woods, they saw, in the distance, a mounted party of Spaniards who were evidently on the march to attack them.
Montbar was transported with rage at the sight of the Spaniards. He was ready, single-handed, to rush upon them at once—he alone, against several hundred, regardless whether the others followed him or not. But an old, experienced buccaneer, who led the party, held him back.
“Stop,” said he; “there is plenty of time. If you do as I tell you, not one of those fellows shall escape.”
These words, “Not one of those fellows shall escape,” arrested the impetuous young man. The buccaneers halted, pretending not to have seen the Spaniards. They allowed one or two of their number to exhibit themselves, as if belonging to a hunting party. They then pitched their tent of linen, apparently entirely unconscious that they were nearany foe. Drawing out their brandy-flasks, they feigned a great revel, singing songs, shouting, and passing the flasks from one to another, as if in the wildest of drunken bouts. This was done by a small portion of the company, while most of the buccaneers were hidden in ambush.
The Spaniards, having secreted themselves, watched all these movements. They supposed that the buccaneers, stupefied with drink, would ere long fall helplessly asleep. The Spaniards would then creep cautiously upon them, and kill them all. But the cunning old buccaneer had taken good care that the brandy-flasks should all be empty. Not a single drop of intoxicating drink had the feigned revellers taken.
As soon as darkness veiled the scene the buccaneers all assembled in ambuscade, anticipating a midnight attack. Every musket was in order, and their brains were cool and uninflamed with drink. The Spaniards delayed their attack until daylight. As the hours lingered away, Montbar was restless, and chafed like a caged lion, saying that they would never come, and imploring permission to march out and attack them.
At daybreak the buccaneers discerned a dark line moving noiselessly over the ridge, and descending into the plain. They knew full well what thismeant. Every movement was watched by the ambushed buccaneers. Cautiously the Spaniards advanced. They crossed the prairie, and entered the forest, intending to encircle the tent, which they supposed held the sleeping buccaneers.
Suddenly the woods seemed to burst into volcanic flame. The report of the musketry was followed with shout and yell, and the storm of lead swept through the ranks of the Spaniards, striking down scores, either in death or grievously wounded. The buccaneers rushed instantaneously upon their bewildered, staggered, bleeding foe. Montbar seemed animated by demonaical frenzy. He rushed upon the Spaniards in utter recklessness, regardless of their numbers, or of the support he should receive from his comrades. His heavy sabre flashed in all directions, as if wielded by tireless sinews of steel.
Soon he was quite in advance of his companions, and was alone in the very thickest of the Spanish squadron. He would inevitably have been cut down, had not the other buccaneers, astonished at his audacity, rushed to his rescue. Montbar’s sword was dripping with blood. He was in a frenzy of joy. Every blow he struck cut down a Spaniard. He exulted in the carnage, and ever after declared that this was the happiest day of his life. Onegrounded Spaniard clung to his knee begging for mercy. Montbar brought down his sabre upon his head, splitting it from crown to chin, fiercely exclaiming, “I wish that you were the last of this accursed race.” An eye-witness of the battle describes the carnage as horrible. Nearly every Spaniard was destroyed. The victors, all absorbed in their bloody work, stumbled over the dying and the dead, deaf to every cry for mercy.
The buccaneers were astonished and delighted by the prowess which Montbar had displayed. They entreated him to remain and become their captain. But a signal gun, fired by his uncle, called him back to the ship. Montbar was placed as captain on board the large ship which his uncle had captured. Many of the pirates eagerly engaged to serve under him.
After a sail of eight days these two vessels encountered four Spanish war-ships, each one larger than either of those commanded by Montbar or his uncle. One of the most desperate of naval battles ensued. The elder Montbar was attacked by two of the ships. For three hours they struggled, grappled together, receiving and giving the most terrible broadsides. At last the three sank together in one watery grave. The uncle, it is said, rejoicing to drag the two other ships with him, went down laughing.
Montbar, with his crashing shot, succeeded at length in sinking one of the ships assailing him, and then he boarded the other. The terror-stricken crew threw themselves into the water. The floating bodies presented targets for the buccaneers. No quarter was shown. Montbar rushed up and down the decks killing all he could reach. His courage and accomplishments were so marvellous, that his comrades regarded him with superstitious reverence, as endowed with more than mortal powers. He himself ever averred that he was God’s appointed messenger, to avenge the wrongs the Spaniards had inflicted upon the Indians. It is not known that a single individual escaped from these four Spanish ships.
Montbar had now two vessels at his command. He engaged many other buccaneers in his service, and soon had an army of nearly eight hundred men ready to follow him to the death. He swept the seas, and, often landing, ravaged the coasts. We have no detailed account of his subsequent career. One of his biographers writes:
“And this completes all that history has preserved of one of the strangest combinations of fanatic and soldier that has ever appeared since the days of Loyola. In another age, and under other circumstances, he might have been a second Mohammed. Equallyremorseless, his ambition, though narrower, seems to have been no less fervid. If he was cruel, we must allow him to have been sincere even in his fanaticism. Daring, untiring, of unequalled courage and unmatched resolution, the cruelty of the Spaniards he put down by greater cruelty. He passes from us into unknown seas, and we hear of him no more. He died probably unconscious of crime, unpitying and unpitied.
“Oexemelin, who saw Montbar at Honduras, describes him as active, vivacious, and full of fire, like all the Gascons. He was of tall stature, erect and firm, his air grand, noble, martial. His complexion was sunburnt, and the color of his eyes could not be discerned under the deep, arched vaulting of his bushy eyebrows. His very glance in battle was said to intimidate the Spaniards, and to drive them to despair.”