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If you check the website for the Biscay resort
town of Les Sables d’Olonne, you will learn that the port is the
starting and finishing point for the Vendée Globe – a
single-handed, non-stop, no-outside-assistance round the world
sailing race.
You will also learn about its history as a
port: its creation in 1218 as a replacement for the irretrievably
silted-up Talmont, its promotion to France’s main seaport around
the time of Columbus, its heady days as a whaling and cod-fishing
port, its decline during the Napoleonic wars, and its reincarnation
as a resort full of bathing machines in the 19th century.
You will not learn about the man who made its
name notorious, François Naud. His origins seem uncertain, and some
say his real name was Sean David Naud, but he was known as François
l’Olonnais (Francois
of Olonne).
Born in France, he was sent to Martinique as an
indentured servant while still a child. Once he had served his time,
he joined the buccaneers on the island of Hispaniola (now known as
Haiti). This motley collection of international refugees included
other indentured servants as well as escaped slaves and transported
criminals, and their name comes from the Caribbean French patois ‘boucan’,
originally the name for the fire pit and grating over which meat and
fish were smoked, but later used for the strips of smoked flesh from
the wild cattle the boucaniers hunted for much of their food.
L’Olonnais signed on as a seaman, but soon
his courage caught the attention of de la Place, the governor of the
island of Tortuga, who provided him with a ship and sent him out to
seek his fortune. Although many of them were expert seamen, the
buccaneers’ notorious exploits generally took place on land. In
practice, sea battles were less likely to bring rich rewards.
At first, the young Olonnais was very
successful, capturing or robbing several Spanish ships and returning
with rich booty. However,
he rapidly gained a reputation for cruelty towards his prisoners
that was exceptional even among his kind, and eventually his
fortunes changed.
His ship was wrecked off Campeche, on the
Yucatan peninsula, and all hands came safely ashore. However, a
group of Spaniards attacked and killed most of them.
L’Olonnais, wounded, smeared himself with blood and sand
before lying among the corpses of his crew and feigning death.
After the Spaniards had left, he cleaned and
dressed his wounds, changed into Spanish clothes and headed for
Campeche. There he recruited a small band of slaves, promising them
their freedom, and stole a canoe.
Meanwhile, the Spaniards interrogated those
crew members whom they had taken prisoner, and became convinced that
their tormentor had been killed. Seeing the resulting celebrations,
l’Olonnais and his ex-slave crew put to sea in the canoe and made
their way back to Tortuga, whence he set out to re-establish
his fortunes.
In two canoes, he approached the shallow harbor
of the tobacco, sugar and hide producing village of los Cayos, on the
southern coast of Cuba, but was spotted by fishermen. The villagers
sent a message to Havana requesting support from the governor. With
some misgiving (he had already received notification of the death of
l’Olonnais from Campeche), the governor sent a ten-gun ship with a
well-armed crew of ninety men, which anchored in the mouth of the
nearby river Estera. They had been given instructions not to return
until they had captured l’Olonnais and hanged all the remaining
pirates. To this end their crew included a Negro nominated as
hangman.
Instead of hiding, l’Olonnais captured two
fishermen, forced them to navigate his two canoes into the river in
the middle of the night, and boarded the warship from both sides
simultaneously at daybreak, battening the crew below. He then
brought them up one at a time and decapitated each in turn until he
came to the hangman, who
pleaded for his life in exchange for information.
L’Olonnais interrogated him at length, then
killed him. He spared only one member of the crew, whom he sent back
to the governor of Havana with the written message:
“
I shall never henceforward give quarter to any Spaniard whatsoever;
and I have great hopes I shall execute on your own person the very
same punishment I have done upon them you sent against me. Thus I
have retaliated the kindness you designed to me and my companions”
L’Olonnais had returned, and had developed a
pathological hatred for all Spaniards. Joined by Michael de Basco,
an experienced soldier turned pirate, he set out for Spanish
America, determined to pillage and burn wherever he went.
Eventually, he sacked Maracaibo and nearby towns, staying in the
area for two months and returning with an immense fortune. He became
even more vicious – when one prisoner failed to tell him where to
find the treasures he was convinced his victims had hidden, he cut
the man’s chest open, ripped out his heart and started to eat it,
threatening similar treatment to the next person unwilling or unable
to cooperate.
The next time fortune turned against him, he
didn’t recover. Running ashore on a sandbank by the Islas de las
Pertas near Honduras, he ended up dismembering his ship and
building a longboat in which he set out with half of his crew for
Nicaragua River, where they planned to steal canoes with which to take
off those they had left behind.
When he landed, local Indians literally tore
him to pieces.
Perhaps, after all, this is not a suitable
story for the parents and children who now come to enjoy the golden
beaches of Les Sables d’Olonne.
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