“And mightily well pleased was My Lord as, with his own men in charge of the walls and grim old fortress, he strutted about the city appraising the valuables, the rich merchandise, the ships in the harbor, which were his to pick and choose from. Never before had San Juan fallen to an enemy, and the Earl had every reason to be filled with pride at his great deed. The city was rich and prosperous, the Morro was one of the strongest fortifications in the New World, and the ‘man with the glove in his hat’ felt that he had mightily added to England’s power by securing this stronghold as a fortified base from which to harass the hated Dons. But he had counted without an enemy that lurked unseen and unsuspected near at hand. He had subdued the Dons, but there was another foe ready to attack him that no bravery, no arms could subdue. The dreaded Yellow Fever crept stealthily among the British, and ere Cumberland realized what had occurred his men were dying by scores daily. Here was an enemy he could not fight, a foe invisible and more deadly than the Spaniards, and in almost no time Cumberland’s force was more than half destroyed. Filled with terror at this dread death stalking among his men, realizing that to remain meant destruction for all, the Earl hurriedly embarked the few remaining Englishmen aboard his ships, and beaten, discouraged and disheartened, sailed away from the town he had so gloriously won. He had not gone empty-handed, however. The city had been thoroughly pillaged, much of it had been burnt, the ships in the harbor had been destroyed and Cumberland’s fortune had been increased tremendously. But he had had enough of the corsair’s life. He settled down to pass the remaining years of his life in peace; but we may feel sure that often, as he glanced at the flopping, white-plumed hat with its little red glove, he breathed a sigh of regret that his days of a sea rover were over; that never again would he leap over a galleon’s side with cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other, while men shouted for St. George and San Iago and blood flowed and cannons roared and blade clashed on blade and pistols flashed as Don and Briton battled.” “Seems to me those old fellows were a lot more picturesque than the real buccaneers,” said Fred. “Why don’t people write more stories about them, Dad? I never read of Prince Rupert or the Earl of Cumberland in any story; but books are full of Morgan and those fellows.”