m Panama, supposing that
the pirates had left the town. They had come on confidently, right up to
the muzzles of the sentries' muskets. They had then been met with a
shattering volley, which killed and wounded half their number and sent
the others scattering to the woods. Fearing that they were but a
scouting party, and that a troop of horse might be following to support
them, Drake gave the word to fall in for the road. The spoil, such as it
was, was shouldered; Drake blew a blast upon his whistle; the men formed
up into their accustomed marching order, and tramped away from Venta
Cruz, across the Chagres bridge, just as the dawn set the parrots
screeching and woke the monkeys to their morning song. They seem to have
expected no pursuit; but Drake was not a man to run unnecessary risks.
His men, including the Maroons, were "grown very valiant," yet they were
granted no further chance to show their valour. Drake told them that
they had now been "well near a fortnight" from the ship, with her
company of sick and sorry sailors. He was anxious to rejoin her without
delay, so the word was given to force the marching. He refused to visit
the Indian villages, though the Maroons begged him earnestly to do so.
His one wish was to rejoin Ellis Hixom. He "hustled" his little company
without mercy, encouraging them "with such example and speech that the
way seemed much shorter." He himself, we are told, "marched most
cheerfully," telling his comrades of the golden spoils they would win
before they sailed again for England. There was little ease on that
march to the coast, for Drake would allow no one to leave the ranks.
When provisions ran out they had to march on empty stomachs. There was
no hunting of the peccary or the deer, as on the jolly progress
westward. "We marched many days with hungry stomachs," says the
narrative, and such was the hurry of the march that many of the men
"fainted with sickness of weariness." Their clothes were hanging on
their backs in shreds and tatters. Their boots had long since cracked
and rotted. Many of them were marching with their feet wrapped up in
rags. Many of them were so footsore they could scarcely put their feet
upon the ground. Swaying, limping, utterly road-weary, they came
tottering into a little village which the Maroons had built as a
rest-house for them, about three leagues from the ship. They were quite
exhausted. Their feet were bloody and swollen. The last stages had been
marched