Tim Severin - Buccaneer

Only two of the Kuna spoke Spanish, and their strong accents were difficult to follow. With each sentence, their gold nose plates bobbed up and down on their upper lips and distorted the words. Occasionally when no one could understand anything, the speaker would lift up the plate with one hand and address his listeners from under it. Hector was able to gather that the Kuna were confirming an offer of guides and porters to the buccaneers if they would launch a raid against a Spanish mining settlement in the interior. It was clear that the Kuna loathed the Spaniards. According to the Indians, the Spanish miners used gangs of slaves to wash gold dust from the rivers, then brought their production to a town called Santa Maria. Every four months the collected gold was taken on to the city of Panama, and the next shipment was due to be sent out soon.

'Let's not waste any more time.' It was Captain Sawkins who spoke. He looked as though he wanted to spring to his feet and rush into action immediately, sword in hand. 'Every day we spend here increases the chance that the gold will slip through our fingers.'

'What about our ships? Who's to guard them while the men are away?' asked Macket cautiously.

'I suggest that you and Captain Alleston stay here with a detachment,' proposed Coxon. 'The final division of the booty will only be made when we return, and your men will receive full shares.'

A fit of coughing made him look towards Captain Sharpe. 'Do you feel well enough to accompany us?' he asked.

'Of course I do. I'll not miss a chance like this,' answered the ill-looking buccaneer.

'Then it's decided,' concluded Coxon. 'We set out for Santa Maria in, say, three days' time. We march in ships' companies but all under one single commander.'

'And who is that commander to be?' asked Harris ironically. Hector suspected that the decision had already been taken before their arrival.

'Captain Coxon would be the most suited to lead us,' explained Sharpe. 'After all, he was with Morgan at Panama. He is the most experienced.'

Coxon was looking smug. He had slipped his hand inside his shirt front and was scratching contentedly. Hector recognised the gesture.

Then Coxon turned to the Kuna and, deliberately ignoring Hector as the interpreter, he spoke in broken Spanish of their decision. The Kuna looked pleased, and rose to return to their canoe.

'I wonder where they get the gold to make those nose plates of theirs?' muttered a sailor standing next to Hector. The voice was familiar and Hector glanced around to find that the speaker was one of Coxon's men, the sailor with the missing fingers. 'Didn't expect to see you here.' said the sailor recognising him in return. 'Just remember who is in command of this expedition,' and he gave an evil smile.

However much Hector disliked and mistrusted Coxon, he had to admit that the buccaneer captain knew his business. Before the meeting closed, Coxon gave strict orders that no vessel was to sail from Golden Island for fear that news of the raid might get out. Then the next day every man on the expedition was issued with lead for bullets and twenty pounds of powder from the common stock. In addition, the camp cooks were put to baking buns of unleavened bread, four to a man, as marching rations.

'If this is all we get to eat, we'll soon be asking Hector for those cassia pods he's got in his knapsack,' said Jacques looking dubiously at the food. 'No wonder they're called doughboys.'

He, Jezreel and Hector were on the landing beach in the early dawn of the third day after the conference. Half the expedition had already disembarked, and Dan had gone ahead to scout.

'Don't look so miserable,' he said to Hector who was feeling dispirited that he could not yet return to Jamaica. 'Imagine coming back to your lady with your pockets full of gold dust.'

'As a surgeon's assistant you are not supposed to be involved in any fighting,' Jezreel added. 'Just make sure that the medicine chest stays with the column. A supply of medicines is the next best thing to a keg of rum to keep up the men's morale.'

Dan was coming towards them, accompanied by one of the Kuna guides. 'Hector, can you translate? This man has something to say but I can't follow his Spanish.'

Hector listened to the guide, then explained. 'Everyone is to stay on the footpath. He says the spirits of the forest must be respected. If they are disturbed or angered, they will cause harm.' He shifted the knapsack on his shoulders. It contained a basic medical kit that Smeeton had picked out for him. The surgeon himself had still not landed, and the main medicine chest lay on the ground, awkward and heavy.

'Here, I'll take that,' said Jezreel, lifting the chest on his shoulder. 'That's Harris's green flag up ahead.'

It was another sign of Coxon's competence, Hector thought to himself. The buccaneer captain had given instructions that after landing every man was to muster to his own captain's flag and follow it as the column moved inland. It should mean that the unruly and ill-disciplined buccaneers kept some sort of order on their march and did not degenerate into a chaotic mob. Captain Sawkins and Captain Cook, Hector now saw, had both chosen to display red banners with yellow stripes, but luckily Cook had distinguished his flag by adding the outline of a hand holding a sword.

Captain Sharpe's troop was beginning to move off behind their red flag hung with green and white ribbons. They had been chosen to lead the march and behind them the column slowly got into motion, more than 300 men slipping and stumbling along the shingle beach until they reached a river mouth. Here the Kuna guides turned inland, leading the men through an abandoned plantain grove and then into the forest itself where the trees formed a canopy overhead, blocking out the sunlight. The ground underfoot was soggy with dead leaves and forest mould, the air heavy and damp. The only sounds were the low voices of the men, an occasional burst of laughter, or someone hawking and spitting. The ground sloped upward, the path twisting to avoid places where the trees grew so close together as to be impassable, their trunks wet and glistening. Occasionally the walkers came to a small stream which they splashed across. Those who were already thirsty in the muggy heat, used their hats to scoop up water and drank.

In the early afternoon they halted. The Kuna had already prepared bivouacs for them, small huts with cane walls and thatched roofs built in another abandoned plantain patch. Several buccaneers preferred to go to sleep outside on the open ground, but the Kuna became agitated. The travellers must stay indoors, they insisted. Anyone who slept on the ground risked being bitten by venomous snakes. Hector wondered if this was merely an excuse to prevent the men from straying, but suddenly there was a shout of alarm, followed by some sort of commotion. He saw a cutlass rising and falling. Smeeton, who had joined the column belatedly, hurried off towards the spot, and Hector followed him, curious to see what all the fuss was about. He found a shaken-looking buccaneer holding up the headless corpse of a snake on the tip of his cutlass. The snake was at least four feet long, mottled brown and green. Smeeton found the severed head, picked it up and cautiously prised open the jaws. The poison fangs were unmistakable. 'A true viper, and with a bite almost certainly mortal. Excellent,' the surgeon enthused. He turned over the diamond-shaped head to inspect a yellow patch on the throat, and asked the buccaneer if he could also keep the dead body. Then he stepped behind Hector and the young man felt the flap of his knapsack open. There came the sensation of the dead snake being slid inside. Hector's skin crawled.

'The first reward of our venture,' announced Smeeton from somewhere behind him. 'Cut up into small morsels, it will make an essential ingredient in our Theraci Londini, vulgarly known as London Treacle.'