History: The Darien Scheme

In the 1690s, the independent Kingdom of Scotland was deep in financial trouble. A series of civil wars and hard feelings from and against England, as well as year after year of sorry harvests, saw the landed gentry in tight straights and the poor in very hard conditions indeed. Something had to be done, of course; if Scotland grew too weak, both physically and financially, England would pounce of what she imagined was already hers.

Fortunately, the age of exploration - and get-rich-quick schemes - in the East and West Indies was in full swing. The Lords of Scotland were ready to dive in with both feet, and make a monetary killing in the process, and they were primed for what Education Scotland online calls the "economic guru" to fan the flames of greed. One William Paterson stepped in to do just that.

Paterson, a founder of the Bank of England, was also a preacher of the new word: anyone could get rich in the Americas. All it took, he insisted, was the right amount of cash and the right men to do the job. The Lords, hungry for the kind of wealth that was flowing in to countries like Spain and England, bought into Paterson's idea immediately. Scotland would establish a colony at Darien, what is now the Isthmus of Panama and - more specifically - the treacherous area known as the Darien Gap. The colony would be called New Caledonia and, for a small fee, the Scottish nobility could get in on the deal.

Paterson set to work inventing the Company of Scotland to raise "public capital." Initially, funds funneled in from all over Europe, including Holland, Germany and England. Colonists lined up to sign the charter singing the much familiar refrain: better to build in the New World than starve in the Old. A group of unsavory muscle men, former mercenaries for the most part led by a despicable character named Thomas Drummond, were also assembled, and five ships were commissioned for the voyage.

All appeared to be going well until William III, that king of England sometimes called "of Orange," got wind of the affair, probably from the aristocrats who invested in England's East India Company. He decreed that Scotland and her Company had no authority to raise money outside of Great Britain; Paterson had no choice but to return the much needed income from Germany and Holland. Much needed, it turned out, because Paterson - who was for all intents and purposes a penniless con man - had been siphoning coin into his own pockets. When the discrepancies were discovered, he was kicked out of the Company, but his disastrous plan went forward nonetheless.

There is an old saying among the indigenous people of Panama that the Darien can kill you in a thousand different ways. To this day it is ill-advised to make a trek through the area, as one particular episode of NatGeo's "Locked Up Abroad" proved without a doubt. The unfortunates who sailed for their New Caledonia, 1,200 in all, in July of 1698 were about to find that out the hard way. The journey itself, which began with a meandering sail around the north of Scotland to avoid English warships, was a nightmare. People and animals were sick most of the time, with many failing to survive the trip. Arriving at what the colonists called Golden Island in the Bay of Darien on November 2nd must have been something like seeing paradise.

But paradise it wasn't.

The colonists immediately set to building what they hoped would be a prosperous settlement, Fort St. Andrew, on the main peninsula of the Isthmus. Unfortunately, lack of nourishment - most of the stores had spoiled on the crossing due to the infiltration of pests and bilge water - a shortage of fresh water and disease made the work slow. Drummond, the brutal thug who became de-facto leader of the group, pushed the colonists to exhaustion. Their letters home were reviewed; everything had to appear to be going according to Paterson's original plan. No whining allowed. And then summer came and literal clouds of mosquitoes brought the horror of yellow fever to the yet unfinished Fort St. Andrew.

Worse than all this was the lack of agriculture and trade. The swampy land, riddled with salt water pools, was bad for growing. Both Spanish and English merchants refused to trade with the colonists as well. Their marching orders from Madrid and London were to let the Scots starve, grow sick and die. There was no room, in European opinion, for another colony in the Americas. Things grew so horrible that the colonists finally threw up their hands. in July of 1699, the 300 remaining colonists left a small number of their dying comrads at the tent city on the Isthmus and sailed for Port Royal, Jamaica. There they were denied food and water and not even allowed to come ashore. They sailed home, but not in time to save more wide eyed adventurers.

1,000 more colonists left Scotland in November of 1699. Their journey was also pitiable. From aboard the Rising Sun a man named Shields wrote of "our company very uncomfortable, consisting for the generality, especially the officers and volunteers of the worst of mankind, if you had scummed the Land and raked the borders of hell for them, men of lewd practices and venting the wickedness of principles; for these things God was provoked to smite us very signally and severely with a contagious sickness of the fleet." You can read the rest of the letter here.

The ships were so close packed that the "contagious sickness" was probably gaol fever: typhus. The colonists, weakened as before by illness and lack of proper food, could do very little for fortify what was not really the settlement they had hoped to find. They subsisted, to a large degree, through the kindness of passing buccaneers. These men, having no country on many occasions on often of French or Creole descent, were not hampered by orders from the kings of Europe. But the help was sparse as, for the most part, the colonists had little or nothing to offer the freebooters in exchange for food, fresh water and medicine.

The final blow to New Caledonia came when the Spanish, fed up with the annoying Scots, besieged what was left of Fort St. Andrew. According to Nat Edwards in his book Caledonia's Last Stand, the Scottish colonists made a daring raid on the Spanish stockade at Toubacanti in January of 1700. This was the last straw for the Spanish. By April of the same year, the colonist capitulated to the Spanish. Less than 200 men and women sailed for Scotland, leaving the dream of New Caledonia behind forever.

Many historians, Edwards included, see the failure of the Company of Scotland and the Darien Scheme as the death knell of the Scottish Kingdom. Their coffers empty and their crops still meager, the Lords of Scotland had no choice but to sign the Acts of Union and become part of Great Britain in 1707. The Darien Scheme, then, cost Scotland her chance at empire.

Header: New Caledonia and the Isthmus of Darien from a Scottish map possibly informed by adventurer Lionel Wafer c 1699 via Wikipedia

People: Not One of Your Common Surgeons

The life story of naturalist, linguist, anthropologist, author, physician and buccaneer Lionel Wafer reads like a novel. The novel would involve a man similar to O’Brian’s Stephen Maturin put on paper by an author like Dumas or Sabotini. Dr. Wafer lived life to the very fullest, and left a rich history to boot.


Born in Scotland some time in the 1660s, Wafer (or Weaver as it is occasionally spelled) had an ear for languages from an early age. As a child he spoke not only English but Scottish and Irish Gaelic. In 1677 he signed aboard the merchant Great Ann as surgeon’s mate, and it may have been at sea that he learned to doctor.

Great Ann was bound for the Far East which meant that young Lionel experienced places like Java, China and India. He also doubtless learned how to treat a myriad of tropical diseases and common seafaring injuries. When Great Ann returned to England some time in 1679, Wafer could rightly call himself a surgeon.

That same year, Wafer seems to have shipped aboard an unknown vessel bound for the Caribbean as either surgeon’s mate or surgeon proper. According to Philip Gosse in The Pirate’s Who’s Who, Wafer deserted at Port Royal where he hung out his shingle as physician to the local buccaneers. Although Wafer does not mention desertion in his best seller, A New Voyage and Description of the Isthmus of America published in 1699, he does portray himself set up as a doctor in Jamaica when he meets buccaneer captains Lynch and Cook. These two convince Wafer to join them in the ill fated South Sea adventure commanded by captains Sharp and Sawkins. Wafer, eager for Spanish gold, signs on as surgeon.

This debacle, documented by both Basil Ringrose and William Dampier, led to ill feelings among the large group of buccaneers who headed for Panama City. Wafer fell in with the most stringently anti-Sharp faction, a group of men that ended up deserting their ships and setting out to walk through the Darien back to the Atlantic. It must be said that Wafer was probably a very competent physician as most of his fellows survived the miserable trek. The old Panamanian proverb that the Darien jungle can kill you in a thousand different ways certainly held true for this headstrong band, however.

Dr. Wafer came very close to being one of those casualties himself when a fellow mutineer was trying to dry out black powder with extremely bad results. As Wafer describes it:

I was sitting on the ground near one of our men, who was drying of gunpowder in a silver plate; but not managing it as he should, it blew up and scorched my knee to that degree that the bone was left bare, the flesh being torn away, and my thigh burnt for a great way above it.

Wafer managed to bandage himself up with what he had in his knapsack but he had trouble keeping up with his mates, who were eager to move on. As he put it, “… I made hard shift to jog on.” The man who did not manage as he should with the powder died of his far more serious wounds.

Most likely because of his injury, Dr. Wafer fell behind his band. He was taken in by a local native group headed by Chief Lacentra who at first seemed bent on killing him. The Chief’s first wife was ill when Wafer arrived at the village and Wafer managed to lift her fever by expertly bleeding her. Lacentra was so grateful that he spared the doctor’s life. For some months the Chief would not allow Wafer out of his sight, which greatly dismayed the doctor as he wished desperately to press on to the Atlantic and return to Jamaica. Wafer made the best of his virtual captivity, however. He learned the language and customs of his host’s people and documented the local flora and fauna in journals that would later form the basis for his book. Wafer’s expertise would draw him into Scotland’s ill-fated attempt to colonize the Darien late in his life.

After almost eight years in the South Sea and Panama, Wafer made it back to Jamaica through the good graces of privateer William Dampier. By 1688, Wafer had accepted the King’s General Pardon of Pyrates, and begun practicing in Philadelphia. We next hear of him in 1691, when he is back in England. His book was published in 1695 and it is around the time that he was approached by a group of Scottish Lords for information on the Darien and the Isthmus of Panama. It does not appear that Wafer returned to the New World, but maps based on his experiences were used by the Scottish colonists who eventually sailed for what they would call New Caledonia some time in 1698.

Much like his contemporary and fellow physician Alexander Exquemelin, Lionel Wafer became a respected author in his old age. He retired from medicine and moved to a comfortable home in London where, again according to Gosse, he died in 1705.

Header: Copperplate depicting Chief Lacentra and his people from Lionel Wafer’s A New Voyage c 1699