He divested himself of his great boots, his pistol belt, and the rest of
his piratical costume, and, adding to his scanty raiment a cloak and hat
which he had stolen from a poor cottage, he boldly approached the town
and entered it. He looked like a very ordinary person, and no notice was
taken of him by the authorities. Here he found shelter and something to
eat, and he soon began to make himself very much at home in the streets
of Campeachy.
It was a very gay time in the town, and, as everybody seemed to be
happy, L'Olonnois was very glad to join in the general rejoicing, and
these hilarities gave him particular pleasure as he found out that he
was the cause of them. The buccaneers who had been captured, and who
were imprisoned in the fortress, had been interrogated over and over
again by the Spanish officials in regard to L'Olonnois, their commander,
and, as they had invariably answered that he had been killed, the
Spanish were forced to believe the glad tidings, and they celebrated the
death of the monster as the greatest piece of public good fortune which
could come to their community. They built bonfires, they sang songs
about the death of the black-hearted buccaneer, and services of
thanksgiving were held in their churches.
All this was a great delight to L'Olonnois, who joined hands with the
young men and women, as they danced around the bonfires; he assisted in
a fine bass voice in the choruses which told of his death and his
dreadful doom, and he went to church and listened to the priests and the
people as they gave thanks for their deliverance from his enormities.
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