Allow me to recount my tale, a narrative woven from the threads of vengeance, brutality, and a thirst for power. I am François l'Olonnais, born Jean-David Nau, yet infamously known as the "Flail of the Spaniards." My saga commenced around the year 1635 in France, where fate saw fit to consign me to servitude in the Caribbean. From 1650 to 1660, I was a servant on the island of Martinique, a period that only fired my hunger for liberty and retribution.
In the year 1660, I cast my lot with the buccaneers of Saint-Domingue, discovering therein my true calling: the plunder and slaughter of Spaniards. The governor of Tortuga, himself a buccaneer of renown, discerned my aptitude and entrusted me with command of a modest vessel. From the onset, I exhibited no mercy, ensuring none survived the ships I ravaged. I was among the pioneers of organizing assaults on land, instilling terror into the very souls of my adversaries.
In 1663, misfortune struck, and my ship foundered upon the shores of the Yucatan Peninsula. My crew met their demise at the hands of Spanish soldiers, yet I survived by cloaking myself in the blood of my fallen comrades, feigning death. When the soldiers departed, I emerged, seething with rage, disguised as one of their own. I swiftly mustered a small crew and decimated a Spanish vessel, sparing but one to herald the tidings of my vengeance.
In Michel de Basco, I found a formidable ally. We gathered an army exceeding six hundred buccaneers, manning eight ships. Our eyes were set upon Maracaibo and Gibraltar within the Gulf of Venezuela. Maracaibo's defences crumbled before our cunning, and we seized the town, extracting hidden riches through the torment of its citizens. Though the spoils were scant, we held the city ransom. Gibraltar, too, fell prey to our wrath; its guards were slaughtered, its inhabitants tortured, and much of the town reduced to ashes.
In 1667, I prepared for another grand raid, assembling a force of over seven hundred buccaneers. Puerto Cabello fell swiftly, and our sights turned to San Pedro. We overran San Pedro, only to find its treasure wanting. Disheartened, many of my men deserted, leaving me with a single ship and a loyal remnant of my crew.
At the dawn of 1668, we were shipwrecked near the Gulf of Darien. Stranded and forsaken, we were captured by Spaniards in league with local Indians. Thus, my life met a fittingly grim end; I was dismembered and burned, with some claiming I fell prey to cannibals. Such was my fate, whose legacy remains etched in blood and fire