l'Ollonais
Jean David Nau, born at Sables d'Olonne in the Vendée, is known to history by his alias, François l'Ollonais, or simply l'Ollonais the Cruel. His hatred of and cruelty toward the Spaniard was legendary, and hence his cognomen.
Quote:Jean Nau dit l'Olonnais est un des premier flibustier qui favorise les expéditions sur la terre ferme. Ce qu'il fait d'une manière épouvantable. On dit qu'après lui, les autres pirates ont la tâche facile : il a commis tellement d'horreurs que le seul nom de «Flibustier» sème la terreur. (John Nau, called l'Olonnais, is the first of the freebooters who favored expeditions on dry land. This he did in a deplorable manner. It is said that after him, the other pirates had an easy task: he committed such horrors that the sole name of "freebooter" sowed terror.)
For my source, i am relying on French accounts, and primarily that of Esquemeling. As a youth, l'Ollonnais took ship at La Rochelle, a French seaport with a large Protestant population, and sailed for the Antilles as a bound servant. Completing his term of indenture, he found passage to the island of Hispaniola, and was at first engaged as a hunter, as the Indian custom of smoking meat on a
boucan was much used by the French, and produced meat which could be preserved with less salt for a longer period of time. It was no accident that the term buccaneer attached both to the hunters who smoked meat and those who turned to piracy. The former was an avenue to employment as the latter.
The Spanish had outfitted several companies of
Lanceros to exterminate the buccaneers of Hispaniola, and their technique was to surround the buccaneers, await their fire, and then to charge while the French were reloading. L'Ollonais saw serveral of the buccaneer companies of which he was a member slaughtered in this manner, which likely explains his unreasoning hatred of the Spaniard. When a buccaneer party of which he was a member was wiped out by
Lanceros, he alone escaping, he made his way to the island of Tortuga off the northwest coast of Hispaniola, the most renowned haven for freebooters and smugglers.
L'Ollonnais originally took a place as an ordinary seaman, which in the culture of the French Huguenots in the Antilles of the 17th Century, meant licensed piracy against the Spanish. He sailed in that capacity for three voyages, and came to the favorable attention of Governor de la Place at Tortuga. The Governor was sufficiently impressed that he gave command to l'Ollonnais of a ship newly fitted out for raiding the Spanish Main. Although enjoying some initial modest success, he was shipwrecked on the west coast of the Yucatan near Campeche, and saw his company set upon by the Spanish, and slaughtered almost to a man (the Spanish not only hated the French for their piracy, but considered them heretics for their religion, not bothering to inquire if the victim were Protestant or Catholic, simply assuming the former to be true, conveniently for their purpose). L'Ollonais was blood stained from the unequal contest, and laid down among the corpses, and so was overlooked. He then took the uniform of a Spaniard killed in the fight, and hurried on to Campeche, even joining the celebration held in honor of the slaughter of the "heretics." When the celebration had run its course, l'Ollonais convinced a group of black slaves to turn against their master, and then lead them to the harbor, where he seized a barque and made sail for Tortuga. There he freed the slaves as he had promised, and secured the services of twenty-five of his fellow buccaneers for a project to sack the town of Los Cayos on the island of Cuba.
The governor of Havana then sent a brigantine of ten guns against him, with a crew of ninety. Foolishly, the captain anchored in a bay on the coast, apparently failing to set a watch. L'Ollonais slipped up to the brigantine and boarded, taking the entire crew. On one of the prisoners, an executioner, he discovered a copy of the orders from the Governor of Havana that every buccaneer taken was to be hanged. Enraged, l'Ollonais had each prisoner brought to the quarter deck, and there he decapitated each personally. He was said to have licked his blade after each beheading, commenting upon the relative saltiness of the blood he tasted. Leaving alive only the executioner, he put him in a small boat with all of the heads of his victims, and sent him to Havana with a letter for the Governor:
Quote:«Je suis fort aise, monsieur le gouverneur, que cet ordre soit venu de votre part et vous pouvez être assuré qu'à l'avenir tout Espagnol tombant entre mes mains subira le même sort. Peut-être même, monsieur le gouverneur, en ferez-vous personnellement l'expérience, ce serait justice et grand plaisir pour moi.» (I am easily convinced, Monsieur Governor, that this order came from you and you can be assured that in future all Spaniards falling into my hands will suffer the same fate. Perhaps even, Monsieur Governor, you will personnally have the experience, which would be justice and a great pleasure for me.)
It is also reported that the inhabitants of Cuba sent to the Governor at this time a letter in which they told him that when an Englishman or a Frenchman was taken, they took one hundred citizens as prisoners to assure the safe conduct of their comrades--that if the orders of the Governor were implemented it would be the condemnation of an infinity of lives dear to their nation. What effect this appeal had on the Governor can't be said, but he outfitted no more expeditions against l'Ollonais or Tortuga.
By now, the fearsome reputation of l'Ollonais was such that no Spanish ship would submit to buccaneers, and they would now fight with gunnery, and with cutlass and pistol when boarded, to the bitter end. This suited l'Ollonais, whose blood-lust was apparently not to be slaked. However, the other buccaneers complained that the easy pickings of days gone by were no more. In 1666, therefore, l'Ollonais decided to repeat his exploit against Los Cayos on a larger and more ambitious scale. With Michel le Basque, also known as Basco, he assembled a fleet of seven ships for a descent upon Maracaibo, in order to then attack the fortified city of San Antonio de Gilbraltar at the southern end of Lake Maracaibo. With his own newly acquired brigantine, he disposed of eight vessels. South of Puerto Rico, he caught sight of a Spanish vessel, which rather than flee, turned to fight. The firefight lasted three hours, and the Spanish finally struck, adding another brigantine of eight guns to the French fleet. On board was found 60 tons of cacao, 40,000 gold pieces of eight, and jewels estimated at a value of 10,000 in gold.
This initial success allowed l'Ollonais to recruit large numbers of buccaneers from the forests of Hispaniola, with their own score to settle against the
Lanceros. The French made sail for Maracaibo, which was undefended, and they quickly made it their base by securing the parole of the city's inhabitants not to resist in return for which they would be spared. Three assaults of the freebooters against Gibraltar were repulsed, and they then turned back to Maracaibo to sack that city, because of the grumbling of the buccaneers. In the meantime, Governor Merteda at Gilbraltar organized a solid defense, and when the French returned, their initial assault was easily repulsed by the nearly 400 soldiers and a like number of local militia. By this point, the French were reduced to fewer than 400, and l'Ollonais applied his native cunning. Feigning another assault, but being careful to stay out of the lanes of fire of the twenty cannon on the city walls, his men then fled for the forest, seemingly in disorder. The ruse worked, and the Spanish chased them into the jungle, to find the French waiting for them in ambush. Rather than simply slaughter these men, however, l'Ollonais scattered them, and then a foot race began, with the French reaching the city first, entering through the city gates which no one had had the foresight to close or defend.
The pillage which ensued was very profitable for the French, and the slaughter was horrible, as they exacted revenge for all of their companions lost to the jungle, disease and combat. Throughout the Maracaibo/Gibraltar expedition, the French found large numbers of the spanish colonists had fled to the forests with their valuables, and tracking them down increased their profits, and the death toll. During the return to Tortuga, they again descended on Maracaibo, and exacted a ransom of 30,000 pieces of eight from a city which had foolishly made no provision for their own defense when the French had departed the first time. The pirates had now been two months looting in Venezuela, and although the military authorities of the region were aroused, the inhabitants were dismayed, and prone to surrender and pay a ransom at the appearance of a French fleet.
L'Ollonais and Basco now organized another expedition, and sacked the city of Puerto Cabello in the heart of the Spanish Main, between Maracaibo and Caracas. This expedition, as was the case with his later expeditions, however, suffered from a want of buccaneers, many having used the fabulous proceeds of the Maraciabo/Gilbraltar expedition to purchase land and set up as planters, or to return to Europe to live (it was hoped) in style. The sort of loyalty and discipline which could be expected from buccaneers was a fickle thing, and depended upon the reputation of the captain, the prospects of plunder, and the percieved ease of the operation. Sacking cities earned them riches beyond anything their customary small-scale piracy could obtain, but was also extremely risky. The main recruiting tool upon which l'Ollonais could now rely was that his no quarter policy and his reputation had lead the Spaniard to arm all ships, and their crews to fight desparately if approached by any ship bearing the French
jolie rouge--his career had made piracy a much more risky business.
He next determined to sack Santiago de Leon, also known as Santiago de Cuba, on the south coast of that Island. This was then the largest city on the island, and the Maracaibo expedition had lead the Governor to demand more protection. The
Lanceros had been withdrawn from Hispaniola, to the relief of the French, but they had been put into garrison at Santiago. L'Ollonais' attempt failed, largely due to the unwillingness of Basco (a veteran French soldier) and the buccaneers to undertake another seige and assault. The pillage of the surrounding countryside yeilded enough that he was obliged to pay off his crew and to return to Tortuga. Here he planned his most ambitious project yet, the sack of Gran Grenada, on Lake Nicaragua. This city was the capital of the Honduran provinces, and being inland, had never suffered the depredations of the freebooters. Smuggling was nearly impossible here, and manufactured goods and luxury items fetched outrageous prices, meaning that the legendary wealth of the city was very likely true. L'Ollonais knew the city was almost undefended by virtue of its inland position, which had lulled the Governor into complaisance. Although he was able to assemble another fleet, after three months cruising in the Gulf of Honduras, with but little success, he saw his fleet break up, as Pierre le Picard and Moses Vanclein (a ship's master taken at Puerto Cabello who had joined the buccaneers) complained that there was too little profit from their present course, and too little prospect of success marching into the interior of Nicaragua.
These two lead the smaller vessels along the coast, sacking several towns in Costa Rica, before finally giving up any further expeditions and returning to Tortuga. L'Ollonais therefore assembled all of those still willing, and in a brigantine of twenty-two guns, sat in the shoal waters of the southern Gulf of Honduras, awaiting the seasonal rise in waters from the rains--his vessel was of too deep a draft to easily leave as the others had done. Finally, after six months of harrassing the local Indians, holding their women hostage for food, they were able to float free, and they made sail for the river Nicaragua. While stranded in the shoal waters of the Gulf, some of the disenchanted buccaneers had built a long boat, and so deserted l'Ollonais. He was now reduced to a handful of men, but still had a force sufficient to take Gran Grenada, should he be able to arrive there. But fate held in store for him a cruel end to match his cruel career. The depradations which they had practiced on the local natives in the Gulf of Honduras had been reported up and down the coasts, and while partially grounded to effect some repairs and take on water, their ship was set upon, and they were taken captive. Only a few men survived to escape and make sail for Tortuga in the ship's launch. They reported that l'Ollonais had been literally pulled limb from limb by the Indians, who destroyed him with their bare hands, tossing the limbs into the fire to cook before they ate him.
I have taken such care to tell this story at length because this was the height of the days of piracy, of the days of the French buccaneers preying upon the Spanish Main. Although great things awaited Henry Morgan, after the days of l'Ollonais, Basco and Pierre le Picard, the age of Carribean piracy began to wane. The return of relative political stability to Europe meant that the French, English and Dutch colonies of the Antilles became regular establishments. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which had guaranteed religious freedom to the Huguenots, lead those French Protestants to flee to Holland, and then England and Germany--no longer did they flock to the New World, and the lawless days of the freebooters declined into its sunset.
