“Soon after he arrived, Morgan loaded a boat with the prisoners he had taken at St. Catherine and sent them to Porto Bello with a demand that a ransom should be paid for the evacuation of San Lorenzo without its being destroyed. This time, however, Morgan’s bluff was called, and a message was returned stating that not a farthing would be paid and Morgan could do as he pleased with the castle. “Meantime, the loot was divided—Morgan doing the dividing—and at once grumblings and complaints arose and the men openly accused Morgan of keeping far more than his agreed share. And there is little wonder that they did, for, despite the immense booty taken, Morgan gave but two hundred pieces of eight to each man! “Then Morgan showed his yellow streak and, sneaking secretly aboard his ship, while at his orders his men were demolishing the fort, he sailed away, leaving the buccaneers to follow as best they might. With scarcely any provisions, with no commander of experience, the deserted buccaneers were in a sad state. As Esquemeling quaintly says, ‘Morgan left us all in such a miserable condition as might well serve for a lively representation of what reward attends wickedness at the latter end of life.’ As a matter of fact, they separated, took to sea in the remaining ships and scattered to the four winds, carrying on a desultory and more or less successful buccaneering life on their own account. Thus, by treachery, Morgan possessed himself of his men’s hard-won loot, he double-crossed and deserted the men who, rough and villainous as they were, had stood by him through thick and thin and had made his most famous deed possible, and his career as a buccaneer was over. “But the monuments to his awful deeds remain. Above the placid Chagres’ mouth old Fort San Lorenzo still frowns down. Its quaint sentry boxes jut from the battered walls; the great guns lie rusting and corroded in the crumbling embrasures; piles of round shot are overgrown with weeds and vines; the cisterns where the Dons dipped the water to quench the flames caused by that blazing arrow are still there. Within the dungeons are rusty leg irons, manacles and heavy chains; the patched walls, where Morgan’s toiling prisoners repaired the breaches of his buccaneers’ attack, are plainly visible; and the deep trench, half filled with the piles of dirt whereon the gallant Governor made his last stand, are there for all to see.