Travel Photography > Isthmus > Zapatillas Cays, Panama

After returning to Jamaica for fresh sailors, the fleet would wander these waters, hoping to keep the Spanish at bay. 

Francis Hosier, the fleet’s admiral, had found success in earlier battles with France, and was no fan of the Royal Navy’s chosen strategy of sitting and waiting for the Spanish ships.  By the time Britain and Spain declared peace, over 4,000 Royal Navy sailors perished to yellow fever and other diseases.  A ballad, Admiral Hosier’s Ghost laments the fate of the admiral and his crew:

See these mournful spectres sweeping
Ghastly o'er this hated wave,
Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping;
These were English captains brave.
Mark those numbers pale and horrid,
Those were once my sailors bold:
Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead,
While his dismal tale is told.

When the sun creeps out of the horizon, I see something out of the corner of my eye.  The bromeliad that I had been sitting aside, is host to a large spider.  Whatever it is, it’s about the size of a tarantula, large enough for me to get up off my feet and try to ply my way down the beach. 

On the beach, I scan the ocean with my binoculars, and sure enough, with the first light I see a dugout boat floating in the water several miles away.  Already at first light, a man is foraging the depths, a simple daily ritual, to feed his family.  It is haunting to imagine that his ancestors may have been doing that exact same thing nearly 300 years ago, when 20 big gun ships began their long wait.

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