On the Spanish Main; Or, Some English forays on the Isthmus of Darien
by John Masefield · English · Gutenberg #19396 · 656,898 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: On the Spanish Main; Or, Some English forays on the Isthmus of Darien
Author: John Masefield
Release date: September 28, 2006 [eBook #19396]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE SPANISH MAIN; OR, SOME ENGLISH FORAYS ON THE ISTHMUS OF DARIEN ***
Produced by Frank van Drogen, Amy Cunningham and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
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[Illustration: CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER]
ON THE SPANISH MAIN
OR, SOME ENGLISH FORAYS ON THE
ISTHMUS OF DARIEN. WITH A DESCRIPTION
OF THE BUCCANEERS AND A
SHORT ACCOUNT OF OLD-TIME
SHIPS AND SAILORS
BY
JOHN MASEFIELD
WITH TWENTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published in 1906_
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH.
TO
JACK B. YEATS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
DRAKE'S VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIES 1
His quarrel with the Spaniards--His preliminary raids--His
landfall--The secret harbour
CHAPTER II
THE ATTACK ON NOMBRE DE DIOS 15
The treasure of the Indies--The Bastimentos--A Spanish herald
CHAPTER III
THE CRUISE OFF THE MAIN 26
The secret haven--The cruise of the pinnaces--Cartagena--Death
of John Drake
CHAPTER IV
THE ROAD TO PANAMA 55
The Maroons--The native city--The great tree--Panama--The
silver train--The failure--Venta Cruz
CHAPTER V
BACK TO THE MAIN BODY 74
The treasure train--The spoil--Captain Tetû hurt
CHAPTER VI
THE ADVENTURE OF THE RAFT 88
Drake's voyage to the Catives--Homeward bound--The interrupted
sermon
CHAPTER VII
JOHN OXENHAM 98
The voyage--His pinnace--Into the South Sea--Disaster--His
unhappy end
CHAPTER VIII
THE SPANISH RULE IN HISPANIOLA 106
Rise of the Buccaneers--The hunters of the wild
bulls--Tortuga--Buccaneer politics--Buccaneer customs
CHAPTER IX
BUCCANEER CUSTOMS 129
Mansvelt and Morgan--Morgan's raid on Cuba--Puerto del
Principe
CHAPTER X
THE SACK OF PORTO BELLO 148
The Gulf of Maracaibo--Morgan's escape from the Spaniards
CHAPTER XI
MORGAN'S GREAT RAID 168
Chagres castle--Across the isthmus--Sufferings of the
Buccaneers--Venta Cruz--Old Panama
CHAPTER XII
THE SACK OF PANAMA 197
The burning of the city--Buccaneer excesses--An abortive
mutiny--Home--Morgan's defection
CHAPTER XIII
CAPTAIN DAMPIER 218
Campeachy--Logwood cutting--The march to Santa Maria
CHAPTER XIV
THE BATTLE OF PERICO 245
Arica--The South Sea cruise
CHAPTER XV
ACROSS THE ISTHMUS 276
The way home--Sufferings and adventures
CHAPTER XVI
SHIPS AND RIGS 291
Pavesses--Top-arming--Banners--Boats
CHAPTER XVII
GUNS AND GUNNERS 298
Breech-loaders--Cartridges--Powder--The gunner's art
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SHIP'S COMPANY 311
Captain--Master--Lieutenant--Warrant officers--Duties and
privileges
CHAPTER XIX
THE CHOOSING OF WATCHES 322
The petty tally--Food--Work--Punishments
CHAPTER XX
IN ACTION 334
INDEX 341
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
CAPTAIN WILLIAM DAMPIER _Frontispiece_
NOMBRE DE DIOS 12
CARTAGENA 26
CARTAGENA IN 1586, SHOWING THE DOUBLE HARBOUR 40
The ship in the foreground may be Drake's flagship, the
_Bonaventure_
AN ELIZABETHAN WARSHIP 49
A pinnace beyond, to the left
SHIP AND FLYING-FISH 95
A BUCCANEER'S SLAVE, WITH HIS MASTER'S GUN 114
A barbecue in right lower corner
OLD PORT ROYAL 132
PUERTO DEL PRINCIPE 142
PORTO BELLO, CIRCA 1740, SHOWING THE SITUATION AND DEFENCES OF
THE CITY 150
THE FIRESHIP DESTROYING THE "SPANISH ADMIRAL" 164
Castle de la Barra in background
CHAGRES (CIRCA 1739) 173
THE ISTHMUS, SHOWING MORGAN'S LINE OF ADVANCE 180
NEW PANAMA 195
THE BATTLE OF PANAMA 200
SIR HENRY MORGAN 210
A DESCRIPTION OF ARICA 266
A DESCRIPTION OF HILO 274
AN ELIZABETHAN GALLEON 293
AN ELIZABETHAN GALLEON 297
A GALLIASSE 310
THE "SOVEREIGN OF THE SEAS" 323
MAP OF THE BUCCANEER CRUISING GROUNDS 340
ON THE SPANISH MAIN
CHAPTER I
DRAKE'S VOYAGE TO THE WEST INDIES
His quarrel with the Spaniards--His preliminary raids--His
landfall--The secret harbour
Francis Drake, the first Englishman to make himself "redoubtable to the
Spaniards" on the Spanish Main, was born near Tavistock about the year
1545. He was sent to sea, as a lad, aboard a Channel coaster engaged in
trade with the eastern counties, France and Zeeland. When he was
eighteen years of age he joined his cousin, John Hawkins, then a great
and wealthy merchant, engaged in the slave trade. Four years later he
sailed with Hawkins on a memorable trading voyage to the Spanish Main.
On this occasion he commanded a small vessel of fifty tons.
The voyage was unfortunate from the beginning, for the Spaniards had
orders from their King to refuse to trade with any foreigners. Before
the English could get rid of their freight the ships of their squadron
were severely battered by a hurricane, so that they were forced to put
into San Juan d'Ulloa, the port of Vera Cruz, to refit. While they lay
there a Spanish fleet arrived, carrying a vast quantity of gold and
silver for transhipment to Spain. It was not to Hawkins' advantage to
allow this Spanish force to enter the haven, for he feared that they
would treat him as a pirate if they had an opportunity to do so.
However, the Spaniards came to terms with him, an agreement was signed
by both parties, and the Spanish ships were allowed into the port. The
next day the Spaniards treacherously attacked the English squadron, sank
one of the ships at her moorings, killed many of the men, captured a
number more, and drove the survivors to sea in Drake's ship the
_Judith_, and a larger ship called the _Minion_. It was this treacherous
attack (and, perhaps, some earlier treachery not recorded) which made
Drake an implacable enemy of the Spaniards for the next twenty-eight
years.
After the disaster at San Juan d'Ulloa, Drake endeavoured to obtain some
recompense for the losses he had sustained. But "finding that no
recompence could be recovered out of Spain by any of his own means, or
by her Majesties letters; he used such helpes as he might by two
severall Voyages into the West Indies." In the first of these two
voyages, in 1570, he had two ships, the _Dragon_ and the _Swan_. In the
second, in 1571, he sailed in the _Swan_ without company. The _Swan_ was
a small vessel of only five and twenty tons, but she was a "lucky" ship,
and an incomparable sailer. We know little of these two voyages, though
a Spanish letter (quoted by Mr Corbett) tells us of a Spanish ship he
took; and Thomas Moone, Drake's coxswain, speaks of them as having been
"rich and gainfull." Probably Drake employed a good deal of his time in
preparing for a future raid, for when he ventured out in earnest in 1572
he showed himself singularly well acquainted with the town he attacked.
The account from which we take our information expressly states that
this is what he did. He went, it says, "to gaine such intelligences as
might further him to get some amends for his losse. And having, in those
two Voyages, gotten such certaine notice of the persons and places aymed
at, as he thought requisite; and thereupon with good deliberation,
resolved on a third Voyage, he accordingly prepared his Ships and
Company ... as now followes further to be declared."
There can be little doubt that the two tentative voyages were highly
profitable, for Drake was able to fit out his third expedition with a
care and completeness almost unknown at that time. The ships were
"richly furnished, with victuals and apparel for a whole year: and no
lesse heedfully provided of all manner of Munition, Artillery,
Artificers, stuffe and tooles, that were requisite for such a Man-of-war
in such an attempt." He himself, as Admiral of the expedition, commanded
the larger ship, the _Pascha_ of Plymouth, of seventy tons. His younger
brother, John Drake, sailed as captain of the _Swan_. In all there were
seventy-three men and boys in the expedition; and we read that they were
mostly young men--"the eldest ... fifty, all the rest under thirty."
They were all volunteers--a fact that shows that Drake had gained a
reputation for luck in these adventures. Forty-seven of the
seventy-three sailed aboard the _Pascha_; while the _Swan_ carried the
remaining twenty-six, probably with some inconvenience. Carefully stowed
away in the holds of the two vessels were "three dainty Pinnases, made
in Plimouth, taken asunder all in pieces, to be set up as occasion
served." This instance of Drake's forethought makes it very clear that
the expedition had been planned with extreme care. The comfort of the
men had been studied: witness the supply of "apparell." There was a
doctor aboard, though he does not seem to have been "a great proficient"
in his art; and the expedition was so unusually healthy that we feel
convinced that Drake had some specific for the scurvy.
"On Whitsunday Eve, being the 24 of May, 1572," the two ships "set sayl
from out of the Sound of Plimouth," with intent to land at Nombre de
Dios (Name of God) a town on the northern coast of the Isthmus of
Darien, at that time "the granary of the West Indies, wherein the golden
harvest brought from Peru and Mexico to Panama was hoarded up till it
could be conveyed into Spain." The wind was steady from the north-east
the day they sailed, so that the watchers from the shore must soon have
lost sight of them. No doubt the boats of all the ships in the Sound
came off to give the adventurers a parting cheer, or, should they need
it, a tow to sea. No doubt the two ships were very gay with colours and
noisy with the firing of farewells. Then at last, as the sails began to
draw, and the water began to bubble from the bows, the trumpeters
sounded "A loath to depart," the anchor came to the cathead, and the
boats splashed back to Plymouth, their crews jolly with the parting
glasses.
The wind that swept the two ships out of port continued steady at
north-east, "and gave us a very good passage," taking them within sight
of Porto Santo, one of the Madeiras, within twelve days of their leaving
Plymouth. The wind continued fair when they stood to the westward, after
sighting the Canaries, so that neither ship so much as shortened sail
"untill 25 dayes after," when the men in the painted tops descried the
high land of Guadaloupe. They stood to the south of Guadaloupe, as
though to pass between that island and Dominica, but seeing some Indians
busily fishing off a rocky island to the south of Dominica they
determined to recruit there before proceeding farther. This island was
probably Marygalante, a pleasant island full of trees, a sort of summer
fishing ground for the Dominican Indians. There is good anchorage off
many parts of it; and Drake anchored to the south, sending the men
ashore to live in tents for their refreshment. They also watered their
ships while lying at anchor "out of one of those goodly rivers which
fall down off the mountain." Running water was always looked upon as
less wholesome than spring water; and, perhaps, they burnt a bag of
biscuit on the beach, and put the charcoal in the casks to destroy any
possible infection. They saw no Indians on the island, though they came
across "certain poore cottages built with Palmito boughs and branches,"
in which they supposed the Indians lodged when engaged upon their
fishery. Having filled the casks, and stowed them aboard again, the
ships weighed anchor, and sailed away south towards the mainland. On the
fifth day, keeping well to seaward, thirty miles from the shore, to
avoid discovery, they made the high land of Santa Martha on "the Terra
Firma." Having made the landfall they sailed westward into the Gulf of
Darien, and in six days more (during two of which the ships were
becalmed) they came to a secret anchorage which Drake had discovered in
his former voyage. He had named it Port Pheasant, "by reason of the
great store of those goodly fowls which he and his Company did then
dayly kill and feed on in that place." "It was a fine round Bay, of very
safe harbour for all winds, lying between two high points, not past half
a cable's length (or a hundred yards) over at the mouth, but within
eight or ten cables' length every way, having ten or twelve fadome
water, more or lesse, full of good fish, the soile also very fruitfull."
Drake had been there "within a year and few days before," and had left
the shore clear of tangle, with alleys and paths by which men might walk
in the woods, after goodly fowls or otherwise; but a year of that
steaming climate had spoiled his handiwork. The tangle of many-blossomed
creepers and succulent green grasses had spread across the paths "as
that we doubted at first whether this were the same place or no." We do
not know where this romantic harbour lies, for the Gulf of Darien is
still unsurveyed. We know only that it is somewhere nearly equidistant
from Santiago de Tolu (to the east) and Nombre de Dios (to the west).
Roughly speaking, it was 120 miles from either place, so that "there
dwelt no Spaniards within thirty-five leagues." Before the anchors were
down, and the sails furled Drake ordered out the boat, intending to go
ashore. As they neared the landing-place they spied a smoke in the
woods--a smoke too big to come from an Indian's fire. Drake ordered
another boat to be manned with musketeers and bowmen, suspecting that
the Spaniards had found the place, and that the landing would be
disputed. On beaching the boats they discovered "evident markes" that a
Plymouth ship, under the command of one John Garret, had been there but
a day or two before. He had left a plate of lead, of the sort supplied
to ships to nail across shot-holes, "nailed fast to a mighty great
tree," some thirty feet in girth. On the lead a letter had been cut:
CAPTAIN DRAKE,
if you fortune to come to this Port, make hast away;
for the Spanyards which you had with you here the last year, have
bewrayed this place, and taken away all that you left here. I
departed from hence this present 7 of July, 1572.
Your very loving friend,
JOHN GARRET.
The smoke was from a fire which Garret and his men had kindled in a
great hollow tree, that was probably rotted into touchwood. It had
smouldered for five days or more, sending up a thick smoke, to warn any
coming to the harbour to proceed with caution.
The announcement that the place was known to the Spaniards did not weigh
very heavily upon Drake; nor is it likely that he suffered much from
the loss of his hidden stores, for nothing of any value could have been
left in such a climate. He determined not to leave "before he had built
his Pinnaces," and therefore, as soon as the ships were moored, he
ordered the pieces to be brought ashore "for the Carpenters to set up."
The rest of the company was set to the building of a fort upon the beach
by the cutting down of trees, "and haling them together with great
Pullies and halsers." The fort was built in the form of a pentagon, with
a sort of sea-gate opening on the bay, for the easy launching of the
pinnaces. This gate could be closed at night by the drawing of a log
across the opening. They dug no trench, but cleared the ground instead,
so that for twenty yards all round the stockhouse there was nothing to
hinder a marksman or afford cover to an enemy. Beyond that twenty yards
the forest closed in, with its wall of living greenery, with trees "of a
marvellous height" tangled over with the brilliant blossoms of many
creepers. The writer of the account seems to have been one of the
building party that sweated the logs into position. "The wood of those
trees," he writes, "is as heavie, or heavier, than Brasil or Lignum
Vitæ, and is in colour white."
The very next day an English barque came sailing into the anchorage,
with two prizes, in her wake--"a Spanish Carvell of Sivell," which had
despatches aboard her for the Governor of Nombre de Dios, and a shallop
with oars, picked up off Cape Blanco to the eastward. She was the
property of Sir Edward Horsey, at that time Governor of the Isle of
Wight, a gallant gentleman, who received "sweetmeats and Canarie wine"
from French pirates plying in the Channel. Her captain was one James
Rawse, or Rause; and she carried thirty men, some of whom had been with
Drake the year before. Captain Rause, on hearing Drake's intentions, was
eager "to joyne in consort with him." We may well imagine that Drake
cared little for his company; but conditions were agreed upon, an
agreement signed, and the two crews set to work together. Within seven
days the pinnaces had been set up, and launched, and stored with all
things necessary. Then early one morning (the 20th of July) the ships
got their anchors, and hoisted sail for Nombre de Dios, arriving three
days later at the Isles of Pines, a group of little islands covered with
fir-trees, not far to the west of the mouth of the Gulf of Darien. At
the Pine Islands they found two frigates of Nombre de Dios, "lading
plank and timber from thence," the soft fir wood being greatly in demand
on the mainland, where the trees were harder, and difficult to work. The
wood was being handled by negroes, who gave Drake some intelligence of
the state of affairs at the little town he intended to attack. They said
that the town was in a state of siege, expecting to be attacked at any
moment by the armies of the Cimmeroons, who had "neere surprised it"
only six weeks before. The Cimmeroons were "a black people, which about
eighty yeares past, fledd from the Spaniards their Masters, by reason of
their cruelty, and are since growne to a nation, under two Kings of
their owne: the one inhabiteth to the west, th'other to the East of the
way from Nombre de Dios to Panama." They were much dreaded by the
Spaniards, with whom they were at constant war. The late alarm had
caused the Governor to send to Panama for troops, and "certaine
souldiers" were expected daily to aid in the defence of the town.
Having gathered this intelligence Drake landed the negroes on the
mainland, so that they might rejoin their countrymen if they wished to
do so. In any case, by landing them so far from home he prevented them
from giving information of his being in those waters. "For hee was loath
to put the towne to too much charge (which hee knew they would
willingly bestowe) in providing before hand, for his entertainment." But
being anxious to avoid all possibility of discovery "he hastened his
going thither, with as much speed and secrecy as possibly he could." It
had taken him three days to get to the Isles of Pines from his secret
harbour--a distance certainly not more than 120 miles. He now resolved
to leave the three ships and the carvel--all four grown more or less
foul-bottomed and slow--in the care of Captain Rause, with just
sufficient men to work them. With the three dainty pinnaces and the
oared shallop that Rause had taken, he hoped to make rather swifter
progress than he had been making. He took with him in the four boats
fifty-three of his own company and twenty of Captain Rause's men,
arranging them in order according to the military text-book: "six
Targets, six Firepikes, twelve Pikes, twenty-four Muskets and Callivers,
sixteene Bowes, and six Partizans, two Drums, and two Trumpets"--making
seventy-four men in all, the seventy-fourth being the commander, Drake.
Having furnished the boats for the sea with his usual care Drake parted
company, and sailed slowly to the westward, making about fifteen miles a
day under oars and sails. Perhaps he sailed only at night, in order to
avoid discovery and to rest his men. Early on the morning of the 28th
July they landed "at the Island of Cativaas," or Catives, off the mouth
of the St Francis River. Here Drake delivered them "their severall
armes, which hitherto he had kept very faire and safe in good caske," so
that neither the heavy dew nor the sea-water should rust them or wet the
powder. He drilled them on the shore before the heat of the sun became
too great, and after the drill he spoke to them "after his manner,"
declaring "the greatnes of the hope of good things that was there, the
weaknesse of the towne being unwalled, and the hope he had of prevailing
to recompence his wrongs ... especially ... as hee should be utterly
undiscovered." In the afternoon, when the sun's strength was past, they
set sail again, standing in close to the shore "that wee might not be
descried of the watch-house." By sunset they were within two leagues of
the point of the bay to the north-north-east of the town; and here they
lowered their sails, and dropped anchor, "riding so untill it was darke
night." When the night had fallen they stood in shore again, "with as
much silence as wee could," till they were past the point of the harbour
"under the high land," and "there wee stayed all silent, purposing to
attempt the towne in the dawning of the day, after that wee had reposed
ourselves for a while."
NOMBRE DE DIOS
Nombre de Dios was founded by Diego di Niqueza early in the sixteenth
century, about the year 1510. It received its name from a remark the
founder made on his first setting foot ashore: "Here we will found a
settlement in the name of God." It was never a large place, for the bay
lay exposed to the prevalent winds, being open to the north and
north-east. There was fair holding ground; but the bay was shallow and
full of rocks, and a northerly gale always raised such a sea that a ship
was hardly safe with six anchors out. The district was very unhealthy,
and the water found there was bad and in little quantity. There was,
however, a spring of good water on an island at the mouth of the
harbour. To the shoreward there were wooded hills, with marshy ground on
their lower slopes, feeding a little river emptying to the north of the
town. The houses came right down to the sea, and the trees right down to
the houses, so that "tigers [_i.e._ jaguars] often came into the town,"
to carry away dogs, fowls, and children. Few ships lay there without
burying a third of their hands; for the fever raged there, as it rages
in some of the Brazilian ports at the present time. The place was also
supposed to favour the spread of leprosy. The road to Panama entered the
town at the south-east; and there was a gate at this point, though the
town was never walled about. The city seems to have been built about a
great central square, with straight streets crossing at right angles.
Like Cartagena and Porto Bello, it was as dull as a city of the dead
until the galleons came thither from Cartagena to take on board "the
chests of gold and silver" received from the Governor of Panama and the
golden lands to the south. When the galleons anchored, the merchants
went ashore with their goods, and pitched sailcloth booths for them in
the central square, and held a gallant fair till they were sold--most of
the bartering being done by torchlight, in the cool of the night. Panama
was distant some fifty-five miles; and the road thither was extremely
bad, owing to the frequent heavy rains and the consequent flooding of
the trackway. At the time of Drake's raid, there were in all some sixty
wooden houses in the place, inhabited in the _tiempo muerto_, or dead
time, by about thirty people. "The rest," we read, "doe goe to Panama
after the fleet is gone." Those who stayed must have had a weary life of
it, for there could have been nothing for them to do save to go
a-fishing. The fever never left the place, and there was always the
dread of the Cimmeroons. Out in the bay there was the steaming water,
with a few rotten hulks waiting to be cast ashore, and two or three
rocky islets sticking up for the sea to break against. There was nothing
for an inhabitant to do except to fish, and nothing for him to see
except the water, with the dripping green trees beside it, and, perhaps,
an advice boat slipping past for Cartagena. Once a year an express came
to the bay from Panama to say that the Peru fleet had arrived at that
port. A letter was then sent to Cartagena or to San Juan d'Ulloa to
order the great galleons there anchored to come to collect the treasure,
and convey it into Spain. Before they dropped anchor in the Nombre de
Dios bay that city was filled to overflowing by soldiers and merchants
from Panama and the adjacent cities. Waggons of maize and cassava were
dragged into the streets, with numbers of fowls and hogs. Lodgings rose
in value, until a "middle chamber" could not be had for less than 1000
crowns. Desperate efforts were made to collect ballast for the supply
ships. Then the treasure trains from Panama began to arrive. Soldiers
marched in, escorting strings of mules carrying chests of gold and
silver, goatskins filled with bezoar stones, and bales of vicuna wool.
The town became musical with the bells of the mules' harness. Llamas
spat and hissed at the street corners. The Plaza became a scene of
gaiety and bustle. Folk arrived hourly by the muddy track from Panama.
Ships dropped anchor hourly, ringing their bells and firing salutes of
cannon. The grand fair then began, and the city would be populous and
stirring till the galleons had cleared the harbour on the voyage to
Spain. As soon as the fleet was gone the city emptied as rapidly as it
had filled. The merchants and merry-makers vanished back to Panama, and
the thirty odd wretched souls who stayed, began their dreary vigil until
the next year, when the galleons returned. In 1584, on the report of
Antonio Baptista, surveyor to the King of Spain, the trade was removed
to Porto Bello, a beautiful bay, discovered and named by Columbus, lying
some twenty miles farther to the west. It is a good harbour for all
winds, and offers every convenience for the careening of vessels. The
surveyor thought it in every way a superior harbour. "Neither," he
writes, "will so many die there as there daily doe in Nombre de
Dios." By the middle of the seventeenth century the ruins of the old
town were barely discernible; but all traces of them have long since
disappeared. Dampier (writing of the year 1682) says that: "I have lain
ashore in the place where that City stood; but it is all overgrown with
Wood; so as toe leave noe sign that any Town hath been there." A thick
green cane brake has overgrown the Plaza. The battery has crumbled away.
The church bell which made such a clatter has long since ceased to
sound. The latest Admiralty Chart ignores the place.
[Illustration: NOMBRE DE DIOS]
The Cimmeroons frequently attacked the city while it was in occupation.
Once they captured and destroyed it.
Drake visited the town a second time in 1595. It was then a "bigge"
town, having large streets and "houses very hie, all built of timber,"
"one church very faire," and "a show in their shops of great store of
merchandises that had been there."[1] There was a mill above the town,
and a little watch-house "upon the top of another hill in the woods." To
the east there was a fresh river "with houses, and all about it
gardens." The native quarter was some miles away in the woods. Drake
burned the town, a deed which caused the inhabitants to migrate to Porto
Bello. It was at Nombre de Dios that Drake contracted the flux of which
he died. The town witnessed his first triumph and final discomfiture.
[Footnote 1: This was eleven years after the royal mandate ordering the
transference of the main trade of the place to Porto Bello. Perhaps the
town retained much of the trade, in spite of the mandate, as the
transference involved the making of a new mule track across the bogs and
crags between Venta Cruz and Porto Bello. Such a track would have taken
several years to lay.]
_Note._--The authorities for this and the following chapters are:
1. "Sir Francis Drake Reviv'd" (first published in 1626), by Philip
Nichols, Preacher, helped, no doubt, by Drake himself and some of
his company. 2. The scanty notice of the raid given in Hakluyt. 3.
The story of Lopez Vaz, a Portuguese, also in Hakluyt.
For the description of Nombre de Dios I have trusted to the account
of Drake's last voyage printed in Hakluyt, vol. iii. p. 587. In the
same collection there is a translation from a very interesting
report by a Spanish commissioner to the King of Spain. This paper
gives reasons for the transference of the town to Porto Bello. One
or two Ruttiers, or Mariner's Guides, make mention of the port, and
of these the best is given in Hakluyt. It is also mentioned (but
very curtly) in Herrera's History, in Dampier's Voyages, and in the
account left by Champlain after his short visit to Panama. I know of
no plan or picture of the place. The drawing reproduced here, from
Schenk's "Hecatompolis," is purely imaginary, however pretty. For my
remarks on "Cruces," or Venta Cruz, I am indebted to friends who
have lived many years in Panama, and to an interesting article in
_The Geographical Journal_ (December-July 1903, p. 325), by Colonel
G. E. Church, M. Am. Soc. C.E.
CHAPTER II
THE ATTACK ON NOMBRE DE DIOS
The treasure of the Indies--The Bastimentos--A Spanish herald
It may now have been ten o'clock at night, and we may reckon that the
boats were still four or five miles from the town, the lights of which,
if any burned, must have been plainly visible to the south and
south-south-west. To many of those who rocked there in the bay the
coming tussle was to be the first engagement. The night wind may have
seemed a little chilly, and the night and the strange town full of
terrors. The men fell to talking in whispers, and the constraint and
strangeness of it all, the noise of the clucking water, the cold of the
night, and the thought of what the negro lumbermen had said, began to
get upon their nerves. They talked of the strength of the town (and
indeed, although it was an open bay, without good water, it had at that
time much of the importance of Porto Bello, in the following century).
They talked "especially" of the reported troop of soldiers from Panama,
for Spanish infantry were the finest in the world, and the presence of a
company in addition to the garrison would be enough to beat off the
little band in the boats. Drake heard these conversations, and saw his
young men getting out of hand, and "thought it best to put these
conceits out of their heads." As the moon rose he persuaded them "that
it was the day dawning"--a fiction made the more easy by the
intervention of the high land between the watchers and the horizon. By
the growing light the boats stole farther in, arriving "at the towne, a
large hower sooner than first was purposed. For wee arrived there by
three of the clock after midnight." It happened that a "ship of
_Spaine_, of sixtie Tunnes, laden with Canary wines and other
commodities" had but newly arrived in the bay, "and had not yet furld
her sprit-saile." It was the custom for ships to discharge half of their
cargoes at one of the islands in the bay, so as to draw less water when
they ventured farther in. Perhaps this ship of Spain was about to
discharge her butts and tierces. At any rate her men were on deck, and
the light of the moon enabled them to see the four pinnaces, "an
extraordinary number" in so small a port, rowing hard, "with many
Oares," towards the landing. The Spaniards sent away their "Gundeloe,"
or small boat (gondola, as we should say), to warn the townsmen; but
Drake edged a little to the west, cutting in between the boat and the
shore, so as to force her "to goe to th'other side of the Bay." Drake's
boats then got ashore upon the sands, not more than twenty yards from
the houses, directly under a battery. There was no quay, and no
sea-sentry save a single gunner, asleep among the guns, who fled as they
clambered up the redoubt. Inside the little fort there were six great
pieces of brass ordnance, some demi- some whole culverin, throwing shot
of 10-18 lbs. weight for a distance of a mile. It did not take long to
dismount these guns, and spike them, by beating soft metal nails into
the touch-holes, and snapping them off flush with the orifice. But
though the men worked quickly the gunner was quicker yet. He ran through
the narrow streets, shouting the alarm, and the town woke up like one
man, expecting that the Cimmeroons were on them from the woods. Someone
ran to the church, and set the great bell swinging. The windows went up,
and the doors slammed, as the townsfolk hurried to their weapons, and
out into the streets. The place rang with cries and with the rapid
beating of the drums, for the drummers ran about the streets beating
vigorously to rouse out the soldiers. Drake made the battery harmless
and set a guard of twelve men over the boats on the sand. He then
marched hurriedly to the little hill commanding the bay, to the east of
the houses; for he had heard some talk of a battery being placed there,
"which might scour round about the town," and he wished to put it out of
action before venturing upon the city. He left half his company, about
thirty men, to keep the foot of the hill, and climbed to the summit,
where he found a "very fit place prepared," but no guns in position. He
returned to the company at the foot of the mount, and bade his brother,
with John Oxnam, or Oxenham, a gallant captain, and sixteen men, "to go
about, behind the King's Treasure House, and enter near the easter end
of the Market Place." He himself with the rest would pass up the broad
street into the market-place with sound of drum and trumpet. The
firepikes, "divided half to the one, and half to the other company,
served no less for fright to the enemy than light of our men, who by
this means might discern every place very well as if it were near day."
The drums beat up gallantly, the trumpets blew points of war, and the
poor citizens, scared from their beds, and not yet sure of their enemy,
stood shivering in the dawn, "marvelling what the matter might be." In a
few moments the two companies were entering the Plaza, making a dreadful
racket as they marched, to add to the confusion of the townsfolk, who
thought them far stronger than they really were. The soldiers of the
garrison, with some of the citizens, fell into some sort of order "at
the south east end of the Market Place, near the Governor's House, and
not far from the gate of the town." They chose this position because it
secured them a retreat, in the event of a repulse, along the road to
Panama. The western end of the Plaza had been hung with lines, from
which lighted matches dangled, so that the enemy might think that troops
were there, "whereas indeed there were not past two or three that taught
these lines to dance," and even these ran away as soon as the firepikes
displayed the fraud. The church bell was still ringing at the end of the
Plaza, and the townsfolk were still crying out as they ran for Panama,
when Drake's party stormed into the square from the road leading to the
sea. As they hove in sight the Spanish troops gave them "a jolly hot
volley of shot," aimed very low, so as to ricochet from the sand.
Drake's men at once replied with a volley from their calivers and a
flight of arrows, "fine roving shafts," which did great execution.
Without waiting to reload they at once charged in upon the Spaniards,
coming at once "to push of pike" and point and edge. The hurry of the
surprise was such that the Spaniards had no side-arms, and when once the
English had closed, their troops were powerless. As the parties met, the
company under Oxenham came into the Plaza at the double, by the eastern
road, with their trumpets blowing and the firepikes alight. The
Spaniards made no further fight of it. They flung their weapons down,
and fled along the forest road. For a little distance the cheering
sailors followed them, catching their feet in muskets and linstocks,
which the troops had flung away in their hurry.
Having dispersed the enemy, the men reformed in the Plaza, "where a tree
groweth hard by the Cross." Some hands were detailed to stop the ringing
of the alarm bell, which still clanged crazily in the belfry; but the
church was securely fastened, and it was found impossible to stop the
ringing without setting the place on fire, which Drake forbade. While
the men were trying to get into the church, Drake forced two or three
prisoners to show him the Governor's house, where the mule trains from
Panama were unloaded. Only the silver was stored in that place; for the
gold, pearls, and jewels, "being there once entered by the King's
officer," were locked in a treasure-house, "very strongly built of lime
and stone," at a little distance from the Cross, not far from the
water-side. At the Governor's house they found the door wide open, and
"a fair gennet ready saddled" waiting for the Governor to descend. A
torch or candle was burning on the balcony, and by its light the
adventurers saw "a huge heap of silver" in the open space beneath the
dwelling-rooms. It was a pile of bars of silver, heaped against the wall
in a mass that was roughly estimated to be seventy feet in length, ten
feet across, and twelve feet high--each bar weighing about forty pounds.
The men were for breaking their ranks in order to plunder the pile; but
Drake bade them stand to their arms. The King's treasure-house, he said,
contained more gold and pearls than they could take away; and presently,
he said, they would break the place open, and see what lay within. He
then marched his men back into the Plaza.
All this time the town was filled with confusion. Guns were being fired
and folk were crying out in the streets. It was not yet light, and
certain of the garrison, who had been quartered outside the city, ran to
and fro with burning matches, shouting out "Que gente? Que gente?" The
town at that time was very full of people, and this noise and confusion,
and the sight of so many running figures, began to alarm the boat guard
on the beach. One Diego, a negro, who had joined them on the sands, had
told them that the garrison had been reinforced only eight days before
by 150 Spanish soldiers.
This report, coupled with the anxiety of their position, seems to have
put the boat party into a panic. They sent off messengers to Drake,
saying that the pinnaces were "in danger to be taken," and that the
force would be overwhelmed as soon as it grew light enough for the
Spaniards to see the littleness of the band which had attacked them.
Diego's words confirmed the statements of the lumbermen at the Isles of
Pines. The men of Drake's party were young. They had never fought
before. They had been on the rack, as it were, for several days. They
were now quite out of hand, and something of their panic began to spread
among the party on the Plaza. Before Drake could do more than despatch
his brother, with John Oxenham, to reassure the guard, and see how
matters stood, the situation became yet more complicated. "A mighty
shower of rain, with a terrible storm of thunder and lightning," burst
furiously upon them, making such a roaring that none could hear his own
voice. As in all such storms, the rain came down in a torrent, hiding
the town from view in a blinding downpour. The men ran for the shelter
of "a certain shade or penthouse, at the western end of the King's
Treasure House," but before they could gain the cover some of their
bowstrings were wetted "and some of our match and powder hurt." As soon
as the shelter had been reached, the bowstrings were shifted, the guns
reprimed, and the match changed upon the linstocks. While the
industrious were thus employed, a number of the hands began talking of
the reports which had reached them from the boats. They were "muttering
of the forces of the town," evidently anxious to be gone from thence, or
at least stirring. Drake heard the muttered talk going up and down the
shed, and promptly told the men that he had brought them to the mouth of
the Treasure of the World, and that if they came away without it they
might blame nobody but themselves.
At the end of a "long half-hour" the storm began to abate, and Drake
felt that he must put an end to the panic. It was evidently dangerous
to allow the men any "longer leisure to demur of those doubts," nor was
it safe to give the enemy a chance of rallying. He stepped forward,
bidding his brother, with John Oxenham and his party, to break open the
King's treasure-house, while he, with the remainder of the hands,
maintained the Plaza. "But as he stepped forward his strength and sight
and speech failed him, and he began to faint for want of blood." He had
been hit in the leg with a bullet at the first encounter, yet in the
greatness of his heart he had not complained, although suffering
considerable pain. He had seen that many of his men had "already gotten
many good things" from the booths and houses in the Plaza, and he knew
very well that these men would take the first opportunity to slink away
down to the boats. He had, therefore, said nothing about his wound, nor
was it light enough for his men to see that he was bleeding. On his
fainting they noticed that the sand was bloody, "the blood having filled
the very first prints which our footsteps made"--a sight which amazed
and dismayed them, for they "thought it not credible" that a man should
"spare so much blood and live." They gave him a cordial to drink,
"wherewith he recovered himself," and bound his scarf about his leg "for
the stopping of the blood." They then entreated him "to be content to go
with them aboard," there to have his wound probed and dressed before
adventuring farther. This did not satisfy Drake, for he knew very well
that if the Spaniards rallied, the town would be lost, for it was
"utterly impossible, at least very unlikely, that ever they should, for
that time, return again, to recover the state in which they now were."
He begged them to leave him where he was, and to get the treasure, for
"it were more honourable for himself to jeopard his life for so great a
benefit, than to leave off so high an enterprise unperformed." But to
this the men would not listen. With Drake, their captain, alive "they
might recover wealth sufficient" at any time, but with Drake dead "they
should hardly be able to recover home." Those who had picked up a little
booty in the raid were only too glad of an excuse to get to the boats,
while those who were most eager to break the treasure-house, would not
allow Drake to put his life in hazard. Drake, poor man, was spent with
loss of blood, and could not reason with them, so that, "with force
mingled with fair entreaty, they bare him aboard his pinnace, and so
abandoned a most rich spoil for the present, only to preserve their
Captain's life." It was just daybreak when they got to the boats, so
that they were able to take stock of each other in the early morning
light before shoving off from the beach. They had lost but one man, "a
trumpeter," who was shot dead in the Plaza in the first assault, "his
Trumpet still in his hand." Many were wounded, but the Captain's wound
seems to have been the most serious. As they rowed out from the town the
surgeons among them provided remedies and salves for the wounded. As
they neared the open sea the men took the opportunity to attack "the
aforesaid ship of wines," for "the more comfort of the company." They
made her a prize with no great trouble, but before they got her clear of
the haven they received a shot or two from the dismantled battery. One
of the culverins which they had tumbled to the ground was remounted by
some of the garrison, "so as they made a shot at us." The shot did not
hit the mark, and the four boats, with their prize, got clear away to
the Isle of Bastimentos, or Isle of Victuals, about a league to the
westward of the harbour. They stayed there for the next two days, to
cure the wounded men and to refresh themselves, "in the goodly gardens
which we there found." The island was stocked with dainty roots and
fruits, "besides great plenty of poultry," for it served the citizens as
a farm and market-garden, "from which their fresh provisions were
derived." Soon after they had come to anchor, and established themselves
among the fruit-trees, a flag of truce came off from the Governor of the
city. It was carried by a Spanish captain, who had come to Nombre de
Dios with the company of troops from Panama. He was a handsome
gentleman, of a delicate carriage and of an elaborate politeness. He was
come, of course, as a spy, but he began with the assurance that he came
"of mere good will," to see the heroes who had attempted the town with
so small a party. At the first, he said, the townsfolk had thought them
Frenchmen, from whom they looked for little mercy, but that afterwards,
when the arrows had shown them that they were English, they had less
fear, for they knew the humanity of that race. Although, he said, his
curiosity to see such brave folk were sufficient warrant for his
adventuring among them, he had also a commission from the Governor. That
gentleman wished to know whether their captain was the same Captain
Drake, of whom some of the townsfolk talked as being so kind to his
prisoners. He then asked whether the arrows used in the battle in the
Plaza had been poisoned, for many Spaniards had been wounded by them,
and would fain know how to treat the wounds. Lastly he wished to know
whether they were in need of victuals or other necessaries, pledging the
Governor's word that he would do all he could to supply anything they
wanted. The questions seem to us a little transparent, and so they
seemed to Drake, but Drake was always a courteous and ceremonious
gentleman. He replied that he was the Captain Drake they meant; that "it
was never his manner to use poisoned arrows"; that the wounds could be
cured by the usual methods; and that as for wants, the Isle of
Bastimentos would supply him. He wanted nothing, he said, "but some of
that special commodity which that country yielded." And, therefore, he
advised the Governor "to hold open his eyes, for before he departed, if
God lent him life and leave, he meant to reap some of their harvest,
which they got out of the earth, and send into Spain to trouble all the
earth." The answer seems to have nettled the Spanish spy, for he asked
("if he might, without offence, move such a question") why the English
had left the town when 360 tons of silver, with gold to a far greater
value, had been lying at their mercy. Drake showed him the "true cause"
of his unwilling retreat to the pinnaces. The answer moved the Spaniard
to remark that "the English had no less reason in departing, than
courage in attempting,"--a remark made with a mental note that the
townsfolk would be well advised to leave this Drake alone on his island,
without sending boats out to attack him. Drake then entertained the spy
to dinner, "with great favour and courteous entertainment, and such
gifts as most contented him." As he made his way to his boat after
dinner he vowed and protested that "he was never so much honoured of any
in his life." He must have had a curious story for the Governor when he
got ashore to the town.
As soon as the trumpets had sounded the departure of the flag of truce,
Drake sent for Diego, the negro, who had joined the boat party in the
morning. From Diego he learned many "intelligences of importance," none
of them, perhaps, more grateful to Drake than the news that his name was
highly honoured among the Maroons or Cimmeroons. Diego begged that Drake
would give him an opportunity of treating with the chiefs of these
savages, as by their help, he said, they "might have gold and silver
enough." The matter was debated among the company, while Drake gave
effect to another of his plans. Not more than thirty miles away along
the coast was a certain river, "the River of Chagres," which trended in
a south-easterly direction towards Panama across the isthmus. It was
navigable to within six leagues of Panama, and at the point to which it
was navigable there stood "a little town called Venta Cruz." When the
road from Panama to Nombre de Dios was impracticable, owing to the
rains, or the raids of the Maroons, the treasure was carried to Venta
Cruz, and there shipped aboard swift vessels, built for oars and sails,
which carried the precious stuff to Nombre de Dios. Drake had a mind to
look into Venta Cruz to surprise some of the treasure on its way. He,
therefore, sent away his brother, with two pinnaces and a steady man
named Ellis Hixom, to examine the Chagres River, and to bring back a
report of its fitness for boats such as theirs. Having seen them stand
to the west, Drake ordered his men aboard early in the morning of the
31st July. The sweeps were shipped and the sails hoisted, and the
pinnaces made off with their captured wine ship to rejoin Captain Rause
at the Isles of Pines, or Port Plenty. They arrived at their haven on
the evening of the 1st of August, after a sail of thirty-six hours.
Captain Rause was angry that the raid had not been more successful, and
felt that it was useless to stay longer in those seas, now that the
Spaniards knew that they were on the coast. He waited till the pinnaces
returned from Chagres River, as some of his hands were in them; but as
soon as they arrived he parted company, after dissolving partnership
with Drake. Drake seems to have been glad to see him go.
CHAPTER III
THE CRUISE OFF THE MAIN
The cruise of the pinnaces--Cartagena--The secret haven--Death of
John Drake
While they were waiting for the pinnaces Drake had the ships set in
order, the arms scoured, and everything made ready for the next
adventure. He had taken Nombre de Dios so easily that he felt confident
of treating Cartagena, the chiefest town in those waters, in the same
way. On the 7th of August he set sail for Cartagena with his two ships
and three pinnaces, making no attempt upon the mainland as he sailed, as
he did not wish to be discovered. He met with calms and light airs on
the passage, and did not arrive off Cartagena until the evening of the
13th August. He came to anchor in seven-fathom water between the islands
of Charesha (which we cannot now identify) and St Barnards, now known as
San Barnardo. As soon as the sails were furled, Drake manned his three
pinnaces, and rowed about the island into the harbour of Cartagena,
"where, at the very entry, he found a frigate at anchor." He hooked on
to her chains, and boarded her, finding her an easy spoil, for she had
been left in the care of "only one old man." They asked this old sailor
where the rest of the company had gone. He answered that they were gone
ashore in their gundeloe that evening, to fight about a mistress, adding
that about two hours before, a pinnace had gone past under sail, with
her oars out, and the men rowing furiously. Her men had hailed his
vessel as they passed, asking whether any French or English men had been
there. Upon answer that there had been none they bade him look to
himself, and rowed on up the coast. Within an hour of their going past
the harbour the city batteries had fired many cannon, as though some
danger were toward. One of the old man's mates had then gone aloft "to
descry what might be the cause." He had looked over the narrow neck of
land which shuts the harbour from the sea, and had espied "divers
frigates and small shipping bringing themselves within the Castle." This
report showed Drake that he had been discovered, but the information did
not greatly move him. He gathered from the old mariner that a great ship
of Seville lay moored just round the next point, with her yards across,
"being bound the next morning for St Domingo," or Hispaniola. Drake
"took this old man into his pinnace to verify that which he had
informed, and rowed towards this ship." As he drew near, the Spanish
mariners hailed them, asking "whence the shallops came." Drake answered:
"From Nombre de Dios." His answer set the Spaniards cursing and damning
him for a heretic English buccaneer. "We gave no heed to their words,"
says the narrative, but hooked on to the chains and ports, on the
starboard bow, starboard quarter, and port beam, and laid her aboard
without further talk. It was something of a task to get on board, for
the ship stood high in the water, being of 240 tons, (and as far as we
can judge) in ballast. Having gained the ship's waist they tossed the
gratings and hatch covers down into the lower decks. The Spaniards gave
up the ship without fighting, and retired, with their weapons, to the
hold. Two or three of their younger seamen went forward, and hid in the
manger, where they were found as soon as the dark decks were lit by a
lantern from the pinnaces. The raiders then cut the ship's cables, and
towed her "without the island into the sound right afore the town," just
beyond the shot of the citizens' great guns. As they towed her out, the
town took the alarm, the bells were rung, thirty great cannon were
fired, and the garrison, both horse and foot, well armed with calivers,
marched down "to the very point of the wood," to impeach them "if they
might" in their going out to sea. The next morning (Drake being still
within the outer harbour) he captured two Spanish frigates "in which
there were two, who called themselves King's Scrivanos [notaries] the
one of Cartagena, the other of Veragua." The boats, which were sparsely
manned, had been at Nombre de Dios at the time of the raid. They were
now bound for Cartagena with double letters of advice, "to certify that
Captain Drake had been at Nombre de Dios, and taken it; and had it not
been that he was hurt with some blessed shot, by all likelihood he had
sacked it. He was yet still upon the coast," ran the letter, "and they
should therefore carefully prepare for him."
Sailing out of the haven (by the Boca Chica, or Little Mouth) Drake set
his pinnaces ashore, and stood away to the San Barnardo Islands, to the
south of the town, where he found "great store of fish" as a change of
diet for his men. He then cruised up and down among the islands,
considering what he should attempt. He had been discovered at the two
chief cities on the Main, but he had not yet made his voyage (_i.e._ it
had not yet paid expenses), and until he had met with the Maroons, and
earned "a little comfortable dew of Heaven," he meant to stay upon the
coast. He, therefore, planned to diminish his squadron, for with the two
ships to keep it was difficult to man the pinnaces, and the pinnaces had
proved peculiarly fitted for the work in hand. With one ship destroyed,
and the other converted into a storeship, his movements would, he
thought, be much less hampered; "but knowing the affection of his
company, how loath they were to leave either of their ships, being both
so good sailers and so well furnished; he purposed in himself some
policy to make them most willing to effect what he intended." He,
therefore, sent for Thomas Moone, who was carpenter aboard the _Swan_,
and held a conference with him in the cabin. Having pledged him to
secrecy, he gave him an order to scuttle that swift little ship in the
middle of the second watch, or two in the morning. He was "to go down
secretly into the well of the ship, and with a spike-gimlet to bore
three holes, as near the keel as he could, and lay something against it
[oakum or the like] that the force of the water entering, might make no
great noise, nor be discovered by a boiling up." Thomas Moone "at the
hearing hereof" was utterly dismayed, for to him the project seemed flat
burglary as ever was committed. Why, he asked, should the Captain want
to sink so good a ship, a ship both "new and strong," in which they had
sailed together in two "rich and gainfull" voyages? If the Captain's
brother (John Drake, who was master of the _Swan_) and the rest of the
company (twenty-six hands in all) should catch him at such practices he
thought verily they would heave him overboard. However, Drake promised
that the matter should be kept secret "till all of them should be glad
of it." On these terms Moone consented to scuttle the _Swan_ that night.
The next morning, a little after daybreak, Drake called away his
pinnace, "proposing to go a-fishing." Rowing down to the _Swan_ he
hailed her, asking his brother to go with him. John Drake was in his
bunk at the time, and replied that "he would follow presently," or if it
would please him to stay a very little he would attend him. Drake saw
that the deed was done; for the _Swan_ was slowly settling. He would
not stay for his brother, but asked casually, "as making no great
account of it," why their barque was so deep in the sea. John Drake
thought little of the question, but sent a man down to the steward, who
had charge of the hold, to inquire "whether there were any water in the
ship, or what other cause might be?" The steward, "hastily stepping down
at his usual scuttle," was wet to the waist before he reached the foot
of the ladder. Very greatly scared he hurried out of the hold, "as if
the water had followed him," crying out that the ship was full of water.
John Drake at once called all hands to mend ship, sending some below to
find the leak and the remainder to the pumps. The men turned to "very
willingly," so that "there was no need to hasten them," and John Drake
left them at their work while he reported the "strange chance" to his
brother. He could not understand how it had happened. They had not
pumped twice in six weeks before, and now they had six feet of water in
the hold. He hoped his brother would give him "leave from attending him
in fishing," as he wished to find the leak without delay. Drake offered
to send the _Pascha's_ men abroad to take a spell at the pumps, but this
John Drake did not wish. He had men enough, he said; and he would like
his brother to continue his fishing, so that they might have fresh fish
for dinner. On getting back to the _Swan_ he found that the pumps had
gained very little on the leak, "yet such was their love to the bark,
... that they ceased not, but to the utmost of their strength laboured
all that they might, till three in the afternoon." By that time the
_Pascha's_ men, helped by Drake himself, had taken turn about at the
pump brakes, and the pumping had been carried on for eight or nine hours
without ceasing. The pumping had freed her only about a foot and a half,
and the leak was still undiscovered. The men were tired out, for the
sun was now at his hottest, and Drake adds slyly that they "had now a
less liking of her than before, and greater content to hear of some
means for remedy." We gather from what follows, that when he asked them
what they wished to do, they left it all to him. He, therefore,
suggested that John Drake should go aboard the _Pascha_ as her captain.
He himself, he said, would shift into a pinnace; while the _Swan_ should
be set on fire, and abandoned as soon as her gear was taken out of her.
The pinnaces came aboard the sinking ship, and the men pillaged her of
all her stores. Powder, tar, and the like were scattered about her
decks; and she was then set on fire, and watched until she sank. Thus
"our Captain had his desire, and men enough for his pinnaces."
The next morning, the 16th August, the squadron bore away for the Gulf
of Darien, to find some secret harbour where they might leave the ship
at anchor, "not discoverable by the enemy," who thereby might imagine
them quite departed from the coast. Drake intended to take two of the
pinnaces along the Main as soon as they had hidden away the _Pascha_,
for he was minded to go a cruise up the Rio Grande, or Magdalena River.
In his absence John Drake was to take the third pinnace, with Diego, the
negro, as a guide, to open up communications with the Cimmeroons. By the
21st of August they arrived in the Gulf; and Drake sought out a secret
anchorage, far from any trade route, where the squadron might lie
quietly till the fame of their being on the coast might cease. They
found a place suited to their needs, and dropped their anchors in its
secret channels, in "a fit and convenient road," where a sailor might
take his ease over a rum bowl. Drake took his men ashore, and cleared a
large plot of ground "both of trees and brakes" as a site for a little
village, trimly thatched with palm leaves, which was built by Diego,
the negro, after the Indian fashion, for the "more comfort of the
company." The archers made themselves butts to shoot at, because they
had "many that delighted in that exercise and wanted not a fletcher to
keep the bows and arrows in order." The rest of the company, "every one
as he liked best," disported merrily at bowls and quoits, fleeting the
time carelessly as they did in the Golden Age. "For our Captain allowed
one half of the company to pass their time thus, every other day
interchangeable," the other half of the crew being put to the provision
of fresh food and the necessary work aboard the vessels. Drake took
especial interest in trying the powers of the pinnaces, trimming them in
every conceivable way, so as to learn their capacity under any
circumstance. The smiths set up their forge, "being furnished out of
England with anvil, iron, and coals" (surely Drake never forgot
anything), which stood the expedition "in great stead," for, no doubt,
there was much iron-work that needed repair. The country swarmed with
conies, hogs, deer, and fowl, so that the men lived upon fresh meat, or
upon the fish in the creeks, "whereof there was great plenty." The woods
were full of wholesome fruits, though, perhaps, the water of the
neighbouring rivers was not quite all that could be wished. They stayed
in this pleasant haven for fifteen days, at the end of which Drake took
his two pinnaces, leaving John Drake behind in charge of the _Pascha_
and the remaining pinnace, and sailed away along the coast to explore
the Rio Grande. He kept the pinnaces far out at sea to avoid discovery,
and landed on the 8th of September about six miles to the westward of
the river's mouth, in order to obtain some fresh beef from the Indian
cowherds. The district was then rich pasture-land, as rich as the modern
pastures in Argentina. It was grazed over by vast herds of cattle,
savage and swift, which the Spaniards placed in charge of Indian
cowboys. When the beeves were slaughtered, their meat was dried into
charqui, or "boucanned," over a slow fire, into which the hide was
thrown. It was then sent down to Cartagena, for the provisioning of the
galleons going home. The province (Nueva Reyna) was less pestilential
than its westward neighbours. Sugar was grown there in the semi-marshy
tracts near the river. Gold was to be found there in considerable
quantities, and there were several pearl fisheries upon the coasts. The
district was more populous than any part of Spanish America, for it was
not only healthier, but more open, affording little cover for Maroons.
[Illustration: CARTAGENA]
On landing, Drake met some Indians in charge of a herd of steers. They
asked him in broken Spanish "What they would have." Drake gave them to
understand that he wished to buy some fresh meat, upon which they picked
out several cattle "with ease and so readily, as if they had a special
commandment over them, whereas they would not abide us to come near
them." The Indians have just that skill in handling cattle which the
negroes have in handling mules. They did Drake this service willingly,
"because our Captain, according to his custom, contented them for their
pains with such things as they account greatly of." He left them in high
good humour, promising him that if he came again he should have what he
desired of them. Drake left the shore as soon as his pinnaces were laden
with fresh meat, and sailed on up the coast till he reached the lesser,
or western, mouth of the Rio Grande, "where we entered about three of
the clock." The river runs with a great fierceness, so that the hands
were able to draw fresh water "for their beverage" a mile and a half
from the mouth. It was a current almost too fierce to row against in the
hot sun, so that five hours' hard rowing only brought them six miles on
their way upstream. They then moored the pinnaces to a great tree that
grew on the bank. They ate their suppers in that place, hoping to pass a
quiet evening, but with the darkness there came such a terrible
thunderstorm "as made us not a little to marvel at," though Drake
assured the younger men that in that country such storms soon passed. It
wetted them to the bone, no doubt, but within three-quarters of an hour
it had blown over and become calm. Immediately the rain had ceased, the
air began to hum with many wings, and forth came "a kind of flies of
that country, called mosquitoes, like our gnats," which bit them
spitefully as they lay in the bottoms of the boats. It was much too hot
to lie beneath a blanket, and the men did not know how to kindle a
"smudge" of smouldering aromatic leaves. They had no pork fat nor
paraffin to rub upon their hands and faces, according to the modern
practice, and "the juice of lemons," which gave them a little relief,
must have been a poor substitute. "We could not rest all that night,"
says the narrative. At daybreak the next morning they rowed away from
that place, "rowing in the eddy" along the banks, where the current
helped them. Where the eddy failed, as in swift and shallow places, they
hauled the boats up with great labour by making a hawser fast to a tree
ahead, and hauling up to it, as on a guess-warp. The work of rowing, or
warping, was done by spells, watch and watch, "each company their
half-hour glass," till about three in the afternoon, by which time they
had come some fifteen miles. They passed two Indians who sat in a canoe
a-fishing; but the Indians took them to be Spaniards, and Drake let them
think so, for he did not wish to be discovered. About an hour later they
espied "certain houses on the other side of the river," a mile or so
from them, the river being very broad--so great, says the narrative,
"that a man can scantly be discerned from side to side." A Spaniard,
who had charge of those houses, espied them from the vantage of the
bank, and promptly kindled a smoke "for a signal to turn that way,"
being lonely up there in the wilds, and anxious for news of the world.
As they rowed across the current to him he waved to them "with his hat
and his long hanging sleeves" to come ashore, but as soon as he
perceived them to be foreigners he took to his heels, and fled from the
river-side. The adventurers found that he was a sort of store or
warehouse keeper, in charge of five houses "all full of white rusk,
dried bacon, that country cheese (like Holland cheese in fashion--_i.e._
round--but far more delicate in taste, of which they send into Spain as
special presents), many sorts of sweetmeats, and conserves; with great
store of sugar: being provided to serve the fleet returning to Spain."
As they loaded their pinnaces with these provisions they talked with a
poor Indian woman, who told them that about thirty trading vessels were
expected from Cartagena. The news caused them to use despatch in their
lading, so that by nightfall they were embarked again, and rowing
downstream against the wind. The Spaniards of Villa del Rey, a city some
two miles inland from the storehouses, endeavoured to hinder their
passage by marching their Indians to the bushes on the river-bank, and
causing them to shoot their arrows as the boats rowed past. They did not
do any damage to the adventurers, who rowed downstream a few miles, and
then moored their boats for the night. Early the next morning they
reached the mouth of the river, and here they hauled ashore to put the
pinnaces in trim. The provisions were unloaded, and the boats thoroughly
cleansed, after which the packages were stowed securely, so as to
withstand the tossings of the seas. The squadron then proceeded to the
westward, going out of their course for several miles in order to
overhaul a Spanish barque. They "imagined she had some gold or treasure
going for Spain," but on search in her hold they could find only sugar
and hides. They, therefore, let her go, and stood off again for the
secret harbour. The next day they took some five or six small frigates,
bound from Santiago de Tolu to Cartagena, with ladings of "live hogs,
hens, and maize, which we call Guinea wheat." They examined the crews of
these ships for news "of their preparations for us," and then dismissed
them, reserving only two of the half-dozen prizes "because they were so
well stored with good victuals." Three days later they arrived at the
hidden anchorage, which Drake called Port Plenty, because of abundance
of "good victuals" that they took while lying there. Provision ships
were passing continually, either to Nombre de Dios or Cartagena, with
food for the citizens or for the victualling of the plate fleets. "So
that if we had been two thousand, yea, three thousand, persons, we might
with our pinnaces easily have provided them sufficient victuals of wine,
meal, rusk, cassavi (a kind of bread made of a root called Yucca, whose
juice is poison, but the substance good and wholesome), dried beef,
dried fish, live sheep, live hogs, abundance of hens, besides the
infinite store of dainty fresh fish, very easily to be taken every day."
So much food was taken, that the company, under the direction of Diego,
the negro, were forced to build "four several magazines or storehouses,
some ten, some twenty leagues asunder," on the Main, or on the islands
near it, for its storage. They intended to stay upon the coast until
their voyage was "made," and, therefore, needed magazines of the kind
for the future plenishing of their lazarettoes. We read that Diego, the
negro, was of special service to them in the building of these houses,
for, like all the Maroons, he was extremely skilful at the craft. They
were probably huts of mud and wattle, thatched with palm leaves, "with a
Sort of Door made of Macaw-Wood, and Bamboes." From these magazines
Drake relieved two French ships "in extreme want"; while his men and
their allies the Cimmeroons lived at free quarters all the time they
stayed there.
While the Captain had been cruising up the Magdalena, his brother, John
Drake, had been westward along the coast with Diego, "the Negro
aforesaid," in his pinnace. Diego had landed on the coast to talk with
"certain of the Cimmeroons," who exchanged hostages with Drake's party,
and agreed upon a meeting-place at a little river midway between the
Cabezas, or "Headlands," and the anchorage. Drake talked with these
hostages as soon as he arrived from the seas. He found them two "very
sensible men," most ready to help him against the common enemy. They
told him that "their Nation conceited great joy of his arrivall"; for
they had heard of Nombre de Dios and of his former raids upon the coast,
and gladly welcomed the suggested alliance. Their chief and tribe, they
said, were encamped near the aforementioned little river, the Rio Diego,
to await Drake's decision. Having compared the talk of these men with
the reports he had gathered from the Indian cowherds and Spanish
prisoners, he consulted his brother (who had seen the Maroons at the Rio
Diego camp), and asked "those of best service with him" what were
fittest to be done. John Drake advised that the ships should proceed to
the westward, to the Rio Diego, for near the mouth of that stream he had
discovered a choice hiding-place. It could be reached by many channels,
but only by the most careful pilotage, for the channels were full of
rocks and shoals. The channels twisted sluggishly among a multitude of
islands, which were gorgeous with rhododendron shrubs, and alive with
butterflies, blue and scarlet, that sunned themselves, in blots of
colour, upon the heavy green leaves. Among the blossomed branches there
were parrots screaming, and the little hummingbirds, like flying jewels,
darting from flower to flower. Up above them the great trees towered,
shutting out the sight of the sea, so that a dozen ships might have lain
in that place without being observed from the open water. The
description of this hiding-place moved Drake to proceed thither at once
with his two pinnaces, the two Maroons, and his brother John, giving
orders for the ship to follow the next morning. The pinnaces arrived
there the next day, and found the Cimmeroons encamped there, some of
them at the river's mouth, the others "in a wood by the river's side." A
solemn feast was prepared, at which the Maroons gave "good testimonies
of their joy and good will" towards the adventurers. After the feast,
the tribe marched away to the Rio Guana, intending to meet with another
tribe, at that time camped among the hills. The pinnaces returned from
Rio Diego, wondering why the ship had not arrived, and anxious for her
safety. They found her, on the 16th September, in the place where they
had left her, "but in far other state," for a tempest had set her on her
side, and sorely spoiled her trim, so that it took two days to repair
the damage done. A pinnace was then despatched to the Rio Diego
anchorage, to go "amongst the shoals and sandy places, to sound out the
channel." On the 19th of September the _Pascha_ was warily piloted to
moorings, "with much ado to recover the road among so many flats and
shoals." Her berth was about five leagues from the Cativaas, or Catives,
"betwixt an island and the Main"--the island being about half-a-mile
from the shore, some three acres in extent, "flat, and very full of
trees and bushes."
The anchors were hardly in the ground, when the friendly tribe of
Cimmeroons appeared upon the shore, with several others whom they had
met in the mountains. They were all fetched aboard, "to their great
comfort and our content," and a council was held forthwith. Drake then
asked the chiefs how they could help him to obtain some gold and silver.
They replied that nothing could be done for another five months, because
the autumn, the rainy season, was upon them, during which time no
treasure would be moved from Panama. Had they known that he wanted gold,
they said, they would have satisfied him, for they had taken a great
store from the Spaniards in a foray, and had flung it into the rivers,
which were now too high for them to hope to recover it by diving. He
must, therefore, wait, they said, till the rains had ceased in the
coming March, when they could attack a treasure train together. The
answer was a little unexpected, but not unpleasant, for Drake was
willing to remain on the coast for another year if need were. He at once
resolved to build himself a fort upon the island, "for the planting of
all our ordnance therein, and for our safeguard, if the enemy in all
this time, should chance to come." The Cimmeroons cut down a number of
Palmito boughs and branches, and soon had two large sheds built, both
trim and watertight, for the housing of the company. The boats were then
sent ashore to the Main to bring over timber for the building of the
fortress. This stronghold was built in the shape of a triangle, with a
deep ditch all round it.
[Illustration: CARTAGENA IN 1586, SHOWING THE DOUBLE HARBOUR
THE SHIP IN THE FOREGROUND MAY BE DRAKE'S FLAGSHIP, THE
_BONAVENTURE_]
The building was a full thirteen feet in height, built of tree boles
from the Main, with earth from the trench to take the place of mortar.
The ship's guns were hoisted out of the ship and rafted over to the
fortress, and there mounted at the embrasures. For platforms for the
guns they used the planks of one of the frigates captured near
Cartagena. When the heavy work of lumber handling had been finished, but
before the fort was ready for use, Drake took John Oxenham, with two of
the pinnaces, upon a cruise to the east. He feared that a life of ease
ashore would soon make his mariners discontented and eager to be home.
It was, therefore, necessary to invent distractions for them. Instead of
going at once towards his quarry he sailed along leisurely, close to the
coast, stopping a night at one little island for a feast on a kind of
bird like spur-kites, the flesh of which was very delicate. He stopped
another night at another island, because "of a great kind of shellfish
of a foot long," which the company called whelks. As soon as these
delectable islands had been left astern, the pinnaces "hauled off into
the sea," across the bright, sunny water, blue and flashing, gleaming
with the silver arrows of the flying-fish, in order to make the Isles of
San Barnardo. They chased two frigates ashore before they came to
moorings, after which they scrubbed and trimmed their boats, spent a day
fishing from the rocks, and set sail again for Santiago de Tolu. Here
they landed in a garden, close to the city, to the delight of some
Indians who were working there. After bargaining together for the garden
stuff the Indians left their bows and arrows with the sailors while they
ran to pluck "many sorts of dainty fruits and roots," such as the garden
yielded. Drake paid for the green stuff, and had it taken aboard, after
inquiring strictly as to the state of the country and the plate fleets.
The company then rowed away for Cartagena, eating their "mellions and
winter cherries" with a good appetite. They rowed through the Boca
Chica, or Little Mouth, into the splendid harbour, where they set sail,
"having the wind large," towards the inner haven and the city. They
anchored "right over against the goodly Garden Island," where the fruit
was a sore temptation to the seamen, who longed to rob the trees. Drake
would not allow them to land, for he feared an ambush, and, indeed, a
few hours later, as they passed by the point of the island, they were
fired at from the orchards with "a volley of a hundred shot," one of
which wounded a sailor. There was little to be done in the harbour, so
they put to sea again. They took a barque the next morning about six
miles from the port. She was a ship of fifty tons, laden with soap and
sweetmeats, bound from St Domingo towards Cartagena. She was armed with
"swords, targets and some small shot, besides four iron bases." Her
captain and passengers had slipped ashore in the boat as soon as they
had spied the pinnaces, but the captain's silken flag, woven in colours,
with his coat-of-arms, had been left behind as a spoil. Having sent her
company ashore, "saving a young Negro two or three years old, which we
brought away," they sailed her into Cartagena harbour, with the pinnaces
towing astern. They anchored at the mouth of the inner haven to await
events. During the afternoon the Scrivano, or King's notary,
aforementioned, rode down "to the point by the wood side" with a little
troop of horsemen. The Scrivano displayed a flag of truce, and came
aboard, to worry Drake with his oily lawyer's manner and elaborate,
transparent lies. He promised to obtain fresh meat for him as a slight
return for "his manifold favours, etc." but Drake saw that it was but a
plot of the Governor's to keep him in the port till they could trap him.
He thanked the supple liar, kept a good lookout throughout the night,
and stood to sea as soon as the sun rose. He took two frigates the next
day, just outside the harbour. They were small boats in ballast, one of
twelve, one of fifty tons, bound for St Domingo. He brought them to
anchor in a bravery, "within saker shot of the east Bulwark," and then
dismissed their mariners ashore. On the 21st October, the morning after
this adventure, the Spaniards sent a flag of truce to the headland at
the mouth of the Boca Chica. Drake manned one of his pinnaces, and rowed
ashore to see what they wanted. When about 200 yards from the point the
Spaniards fled into the wood, as though afraid of the boat's
guns--hoping, no doubt, that Drake would follow, and allow them to
ambush him. Drake dropped his grapnel over the stern of the pinnace, and
veered the boat ashore, little by little, till the bows grated on the
sand. As she touched he leaped boldly ashore, in sight of the Spanish
troops, "to declare that he durst set his foot a land." The Spaniards
seem to have made a rush towards him, whereupon he got on board again,
bade his men warp the boat out by the cable, and "rid awhile," some 100
yards from the shore, in the smooth green water, watching the fish
finning past the weeds. Seeing that Drake was less foolish than they had
hoped, the Spaniards came out upon the sands, at the edge of the wood,
and bade one of their number take his clothes off, to swim to the boat
with a message. The lad stripped, and swam off to the boat, "as with a
Message from the Governor," asking them why they had come to the coast,
and why they stayed there. Drake replied that he had come to trade, "for
he had tin, pewter, cloth, and other merchandise that they needed," with
which reply the youth swam back to the soldiers. After some talk upon
the sands, the men-at-arms sent him back with an answer. "The King,"
they said, "had forbidden them to traffic with any foreign nation, for
any commodities, except powder and shot; of which, if he had any store,
they would be his merchants." Drake answered that he had come all the
way from England to exchange his commodities for gold and silver, and
had little will to return "without his errand." He told them that, in
his opinion, they were "like to have little rest" if they would not
traffic with him fairly in the way of business. He then gave the
messenger "a fair shirt for a reward," and despatched him back to his
masters. The lad rolled the shirt about his head in the Indian fashion,
and swam back "very speedily," using, perhaps, the swift Indian stroke.
He did not return that day, though Drake waited for him until sunset,
when the pinnace pulled slowly back to the two frigates, "within saker
shot [or three-quarters of a mile] of the east Bulwark." The adventurers
lay there all that night, expecting to be attacked. The guns were
loaded, and cartridges made ready, and a strict lookout was kept. At
dawn they saw two sails running down towards them from the Boca Chica on
a fresh easterly breeze. Drake manned his two pinnaces, leaving the
frigates empty, expecting to have a fight for their possession. Before
he came within gunshot of the Spaniards he had to use his oars, for the
wind fell, thereby lessening the advantage the Spanish had. As the boats
neared each other Drake's mariners "saw many heads peeping over board"
along the gunwales of the enemy. They perceived then that the two ships
had been manned to occupy Drake's attention, while another squadron made
a dash from the town, "from the eastern Bulwark," to retake his two
prizes. But Drake "prevented both their drifts." He bade John Oxenham
remain there with the one pinnace, "to entertain these two Men of war,"
while he, with the other, rowed furiously back to the two prizes. Quick
as he had been the Spaniards had been quicker. They had rowed out in a
large canoe, which had made two trips, so that one frigate was now full
of Spaniards, who had cut her cables, while the canoe towed her towards
the batteries. As Drake ranged up alongside, the towline was cast adrift
by the men in the canoe; while the gallants on the deck leaped
overboard, to swim ashore, leaving their rapiers, guns, and powder
flasks behind them. Drake watched them swim out of danger, and then set
the larger ship on fire. The smaller of the two he scuttled where she
lay, "giving them to understand by this, that we perceived their secret
practices." As soon as the frigates were disposed of, the pinnace
returned to John Oxenham, who was lying to by the two men-of-war,
waiting for them to open fire. As the Captain's pinnace drew near, the
wind shifted to the north, and blew freshly, so that both the English
boats, being to shoreward of the enemy, were forced to run before it,
into the harbour, "to the great joy of the Spaniards," who thought they
were running away. Directly they were past the point, "and felt smooth
water," they obtained the weather-gage, exchanged a few shots, and
dropped their anchors, keeping well to windward of the enemy. The
Spaniards also anchored; but as the wind freshened into "a norther" they
thought it best to put ashore, and, therefore, retired to the town.
For the next four days it blew very hard from the west, with cold rain
squalls, to the great discomfort of all hands, who could keep neither
warm nor dry. On the fifth day (27th October) a frigate came in from the
sea, and they at once attacked her, hoping to find shelter aboard her
after the four days of wet and cold. The Spaniards ran her ashore on the
point by the Boca Chica, "unhanging her rudder and taking away her
sails, that she might not easily be carried away." However, the boats
dashed alongside, intending to board her. As they came alongside, a
company of horse and foot advanced on to the sands from the woods,
opening fire on them as soon as they had formed. The pinnaces replied
with their muskets and heavy guns, sending a shot "so near a brave
cavalier" that the whole party retreated to the coverts. From the thick
brush they were able to save the frigate from capture without danger to
themselves; so Drake abandoned her, and set to sea again, in the teeth
of the gale, intending to win to Las Serenas, some rocks six miles to
sea, off which he thought he could anchor, with his masts down, until
the weather moderated. But when he arrived off the rocks, a mighty sea
was beating over them, so that he had to run back to Cartagena, where
he remained six days, "notwithstanding the Spaniards grieved greatly at
our abode there so long."
On the 2nd of November the Governor of Cartagena made a determined
attempt to destroy him or drive him out to sea. He manned three
vessels--"a great shallop, a fine gundeloe and a great canoe"--with
Spanish musketeers and Indians with poisoned arrows. These attacked with
no great spirit, for as soon as the pinnaces advanced they retreated,
and presently "went ashore into the woods," from which an ambush "of
some sixty shot" opened a smart fire. As the ambush began to blaze away
from the bushes, Drake saw that two pinnaces and a frigate, manned with
musketeers and archers, were warping towards him from the town, in the
teeth of the wind. As this second line of battle neared the scene of
action, the Spaniards left the ambush in the wood, and ran down the
sands to the gundeloe and canoe, which they manned, and again thrust
from the shore. Drake then stood away into the haven, out of shot of the
shore guns, and cast anchor in the great open space, with the two
pinnaces lying close together, one immediately ahead of the other. He
rigged the sides of the pinnaces with bonnets, the narrow lengths of
canvas which were laced to the feet of sails to give them greater
spread. With these for his close-fights, or war-girdles, he waved to the
Spaniards to attack. They rowed up cheering, all five boats of them,
"assuring their fellows of the day." Had they pushed the attack home,
the issue might have been different, but the sight of the close-fights
frightened them. They lay on their oars "at caliver-shot distance," and
opened a smart musketry fire, "spending powder apace," without pausing,
for two or three hours. One man was wounded on Drake's side. The Spanish
loss could not be told, but Drake's men could plainly see that the
Spanish pinnaces had been shot through and through. One lucky shot went
into a Spanish powder tub, which thereupon exploded. Drake at once
weighed anchor, intending to run them down while they were in confusion.
He had the wind of them, and would have been able to do this without
difficulty, but they did not wait his coming. They got to their oars in
a hurry, and rowed to their defence in the woods--the fight being at an
end before the frigate could warp to windward into action.
Being weary of these continual fruitless tussles, "and because our
victuals grew scant," Drake sailed from the port the following morning,
in slightly better weather, hoping to get fresh provisions at the Rio
Grande, where he had met with such abundance a few days before. The wind
was still fresh from the west, so that he could not rejoin his ship nor
reach one of his magazines. He took two days in sailing to the
Magdalena, but when he arrived there he found the country stripped. "We
found bare nothing, not so much as any people left," for the Spaniards
had ordered everyone to retire to the hills, driving their cattle with
them, "that we might not be relieved by them." The outlook was now
serious, for there was very little food left, and that of most
indifferent quality, much of it being spoiled by the rains and the salt
water. On the day of their landfall they rowed hard for several hours to
capture a frigate, but she was as bare of food as they. "She had neither
meat nor money," and so "our great hope" was "converted into grief."
Sailors get used to living upon short allowance. The men tightened their
belts to stay their hunger, and splashed salt water on their chests to
allay their thirst. They ran for Santa Martha, a little city to the
east, where they hoped "to find some shipping in the road, or limpets on
the rocks, or succour against the storm in that good harbour." They
found no shipping there, however, and little succour against the storm.
They anchored "under the western point, where is high land," but they
could not venture in, for the town was strongly fortified (later
raiders were less squeamish). The Spaniards had seen them come to
moorings, and managed to send some thirty or forty musketeers among the
rocks, within gunshot of them. These kept up a continual musket fire,
which did bodily hurt to none, but proved a sad annoyance to sailors who
were wearied and out of victuals. They found it impossible to reply to
the musketry, for the rocks hid the musketeers from view. There was
nothing for it but to "up kedge and cut," in the hope of finding some
less troublous berth. As they worked across the Santa Martha bay the
culverins in the city batteries opened fire. One shot "made a near
escape," for it fell between the pinnaces as they lay together in
"conference of what was best to be done."
The company were inclined to bring the cruise to an end, and begged that
they might "put themselves a land, some place to the Eastward, to get
victuals." They thought it would be better to trust to the courtesy of
the country people than to keep the seas as they were, in the cold and
heavy weather, with a couple of leaky, open boats. Drake disliked this
advice, and recommended that they should run on for Rio de la Hacha, or
even as far as Curaçoa, where they would be likely to meet with victual
ships indifferently defended. The men aboard John Oxenham's pinnace
answered that they would willingly follow him throughout the world, but
they did not see, they said, how the pinnaces could stand such weather
as they had had. Nor did they see how they were going to live with such
little food aboard, for they had "only one gammon of bacon and thirty
pounds of biscuit for eighteen men"--a bare two days' half allowance.
Drake replied that they were better off than he was, "who had but one
gammon of bacon and forty pounds of biscuit for his twenty-four men; and
therefore [he went on] he doubted not but they would take such part as
he did, and willingly depend upon God's Almighty providence, which never
faileth them that trust in Him." He did not wait for any further talk,
but hoisted his fore-sail and put his helm up for Curaçoa, knowing that
the other pinnace would not refuse to follow him. With "sorrowful hearts
in respect of the weak pinnace, yet desirous to follow their captain,"
the weary crew stood after him on the same course. They had not gone
more than three leagues when, lo!--balm in Gilead--"a sail plying to the
westward" under her foresail and main-sail. There was "great joy" in
that hunger-bitten company, who promptly "vowed together, that we would
have her, or else it should cost us dear." Coming up with her they found
her to be a Spanish ship of more than ninety tons. Drake "waved amain"
to her, the usual summons to surrender; but she "despised our summons,"
and at once opened fire on them, but without success, for the sea was
running very high. The sea was too high for them to board her, so they
set small storm-sails, and stood in chase, intending to "keep her
company to her small content till fairer weather might lay the sea."
They followed her for two hours, when "it pleased God" to send a great
shower, which, of course, beat down the sea into "a reasonable calm," so
that they could pepper her with their guns "and approach her at
pleasure." She made but a slight resistance after that, and "in short
time we had taken her; finding her laden with victuals well powdered
[salted] and dried: which at that present we received as sent us of
God's great mercy."
[Illustration: AN ELIZABETHAN WAR-SHIP
A PINNACE BEYOND, TO THE LEFT]
After a stormy night at sea, Drake sent Ellis Hixom, "who had then
charge of his pinnace, to search out some harbour along the coast."
Hixom soon discovered a little bay, where there was good holding ground,
with sufficient depth of water to float the prize. They entered the new
port, and dropped their anchors there, promising the Spaniards their
clothes, as well as their liberty, if they would but bring them to a
clear spring of water and a supply of fresh meat. The Spaniards, who
knew the coast very well, soon brought them to an Indian village, where
the natives "were clothed and governed by a Spaniard." They stayed there
all the day, cutting wood for their fire, filling water casks, and
storing the purchased meat. The Indians helped them with all their
might, for Drake, following his custom, gave them "content and
satisfaction" for the work they did for him. Towards night Drake called
his men aboard, leaving the Spanish prisoners ashore, according to his
promise, "to their great content." The wood, water casks, and sides of
meat were duly stored, the anchors were brought to the bows, and the
adventurers put to sea again towards the secret harbour. That day one of
their men died from "a sickness which had begun to kindle among us, two
or three days before." What the cause of this malady was "we knew not of
certainty," but "we imputed it to the cold which our men had taken,
lying without succour in the pinnaces." It may have been pleurisy, or
pneumonia, or some low fever. The dead man was Charles Glub, "one of our
Quarter Masters, a very tall man, and a right good mariner, taken away
to the great grief of Captain and company"--a sufficiently beautiful
epitaph for any man. "But howsoever it was," runs the touching account,
"thus it pleased God to visit us, and yet in favour to restore unto
health all the rest of our company that were touched with this disease,
which were not a few."
The 15th of November broke bright and fine, though the wind still blew
from the west. Drake ordered the _Minion_, the smaller of his two
pinnaces, to part company, "to hasten away before him towards his ships
at Port Diego ... to carry news of his coming, and to put all things in
a readiness for our land journey if they heard anything of the Fleet's
arrival." If they wanted wine, he said, they had better put in at San
Barnardo, and empty some of the caches in the sand there, where they had
buried many bottles. Seven days later Drake put in at San Barnardo for
the same commodity, "finding but twelve _botijos_ of wine of all the
store we left, which had escaped the curious search of the enemy who had
been there, for they were deep in the ground." Perhaps the crew of the
_Minion_ were the guilty ones. About the 27th of November the Captain's
party arrived at Port Diego, where they found all things in good order,
"but received very heavy news of the death of John Drake, our Captain's
brother, and another young man called Richard Allen, which were both
slain at one time [on the 9th October, the day Drake left the isle of
shell-fish] as they attempted the boarding of a frigate." Drake had been
deeply attached to this brother, whom he looked upon as a "young man of
great hope." His death was a sore blow to him, all the more because it
happened in his absence, when he could neither warn him of the risks he
ran nor comfort him as he lay a-dying.
He had been in the pinnace, it seems, with a cargo of planks from the
Spanish wreck, carrying the timber for the platform of the battery. It
was a bright, sunny morning, and the men were rowing lazily towards the
fort, "when they saw this frigate at sea." The men were in merry heart,
and eager for a game at handystrokes. They were "very importunate on
him, to give chase and set upon this frigate, which they deemed had been
a fit booty for them." He told them that they "wanted weapons to
assail"; that, for all they knew, the frigate might be full of men and
guns; and that their boat was cumbered up with planks, required for his
brother's service. These answers were not enough for them, and "still
they urged him with words and supposals." "If you will needs," said
he;--"Adventure. It shall never be said that I will be hindmost,
neither shall you report to my brother that you lost your voyage by any
cowardice you found in me." The men armed themselves as they could with
stretchers from the boat, or anything that came to hand. They hove the
planks overboard to make a clear fighting space, and "took them such
poor weapons as they had: viz., a broken pointed rapier, one old visgee,
and a rusty caliver. John Drake took the rapier and made a gauntlet of
his pillow, Richard Allen the visgee, both standing at the head of the
pinnace called Eion. Robert took the caliver, and so boarded." It was a
gallant, mad attempt, but utterly hopeless from the first. The frigate
was "armed round about with a close fight of hides," and "full of pikes
and calivers, which were discharged in their faces, and deadly wounded
those that were in the fore ship, John Drake in the belly, and Richard
Allen in the head." Though they were both sorely hurt, they shoved the
pinnace clear with their oars, and so left the frigate, and hurried home
to their ship, where "within an hour after" this young man of great hope
ended his days, "greatly lamented of all the company." He was buried in
that place, with Richard Allen his shipmate, among the brilliant shrubs,
over which the parrots chatter.
For the next four or five weeks the company remained at Fort Diego with
the Maroons, their allies. They fared sumptuously every day on the food
stored within the magazine; while "daily out of the woods" they took
wild hogs, the "very good sort of a beast called warre," that Dampier
ate, besides great store of turkeys, pheasants, and numberless guanas,
"which make very good Broath." The men were in good health, and well
contented; but a day or two after the New Year (January 1573) "half a
score of our company fell down sick together, and the most of them died
within two or three days." They did not know what the sickness was, nor
do they leave us much information to enable us to diagnose it. They
called it a calenture, or fever, and attributed it to "the sudden change
from cold to heat, or by reason of brackish water which had been taken
in by our pinnace, through the sloth of their men in the mouth of the
river, not rowing further in where the water was good." We cannot wonder
that they died from drinking the water of that sluggish tropical river,
for in the rainy season such water is often poisonous to the fish in the
sea some half-a-mile from the shore. It comes down from the hills thick
with pestilential matter. It sweeps away the rotting leaves and
branches, the dead and drowned animals, from the flooded woods and
savannahs. "And I believe," says Dampier, "it receives a strong Tincture
from the Roots of several Kind of Trees, Herbs, etc., and especially
where there is any stagnancy of the Water, it soon corrupts; and
possibly the Serpents and other poisonous Vermin and Insects may not a
little contribute to its bad qualities." Whatever it was, the disease
raged among the men with great violence--as many as thirty being down
with it at the one time. Among those who died was Joseph Drake, another
brother of the Captain, "who died in our Captain's arms." The many
deaths caused something like a panic among the men, and Drake, in his
distress, determined to hold a post-mortem upon his brother's corpse
"that the cause [of the disease] might be the better discerned, and
consequently remedied." The operation was performed by the surgeon, "who
found his liver swollen, his heart as it were sodden, and his guts all
fair." The corpse of one dead from yellow-fever displays very similar
symptoms; and the muddy foreshore on which they were camped would,
doubtless, swarm with the yellow-fever mosquito. The sick seem to have
recovered swiftly--a trait observable in yellow-fever patients. This,
says the narrative, "was the first and last experiment that our Captain
made of anatomy in this voyage." The surgeon who made this examination
"over-lived him not past four days"--a fact which very possibly saved
the lives of half the company. He had had the sickness at its first
beginning among them, but had recovered. He died, we are told, "of an
overbold practice which he would needs make upon himself, by receiving
an over-strong purgation of his own device, after which taken he never
spake; nor his Boy recovered the health which he lost by tasting it,
till he saw England." He seems to have taken the draught directly after
the operation, as a remedy against infection from the corpse. The boy,
who, perhaps, acted as assistant at the operation, may have thought it
necessary to drink his master's heeltaps by way of safeguard.
While the company lay thus fever-stricken at the fort, the Maroons had
been wandering abroad among the forest, ranging the country up and down
"between Nombre de Dios and us, to learn what they might for us." During
the last few days of January 1573 they came in with the news that the
plate fleet "had certainly arrived in Nombre de Dios." On the 30th of
January, therefore, Drake ordered the _Lion_, one of the three pinnaces,
to proceed "to the seamost islands of the Cativaas," a few miles from
the fort, to "descry the truth of the report" by observing whether many
frigates were going towards Nombre de Dios from the east, as with
provisions for the fleet. The _Lion_ remained at sea for a few days,
when she captured a frigate laden with "maize, hens, and pompions from
Tolu." She had the Scrivano of Tolu aboard her, with eleven men and one
woman. From these they learned that the fleet was certainly at Nombre de
Dios, as the Indians had informed them. The prisoners were "used very
courteously," and "diligently guarded from the deadly hatred of the
Cimmeroons," who used every means in their power to obtain them from
the English, so that "they might cut their throats to revenge their
wrongs and injuries." Drake warned his allies not to touch them "or give
them ill countenance"; but, feeling a little doubtful of their safety,
he placed them aboard the Spanish prize, in charge of Ellis Hixom, and
had the ship hauled ashore to the island, "which we termed Slaughter
Island (because so many of our men died there)." He was about to start
upon "his journey for Panama by land," and he could not follow his usual
custom of letting his prisoners go free.
CHAPTER IV
THE ROAD TO PANAMA
The Maroons--The native city--The great tree--Panama--The silver
train--The failure--Venta Cruz
When the Spanish prize had been warped to her berth at Slaughter Island,
Drake called his men together, with the chiefs of the Maroons, to a
solemn council of war about the fire. He then discussed with them, with
his usual care, the equipment necessary for an undertaking of the kind
in hand. He was going to cross the isthmus with them, those "20 leagues
of death and misery," in order to surprise one of the recuas, or
treasure trains, as it wandered north upon the road from Panama to
Nombre de Dios. It was, as he says, "a great and long journey," through
jungles, across swamps, and up precipitous crags. Any error in equipment
would be paid for in blood. It was essential, therefore, that they
should strictly debate "what kind of weapons, what store of victuals,
and what manner of apparel" would be fittest for them. The Maroons
"especially advised" him "to carry as great store of shoes as possibly
he might, by reason of so many rivers with stone and gravel as they were
to pass." This advice was followed by all hands, who provided themselves
with a good store of boots and spare leather, thereby saving themselves
from much annoyance from jiguas, or jiggers, and the venomous leeches of
the swamps. The sickness had destroyed twenty-eight of the company.
Three had died of wounds or in battle, and one had died from cold and
exposure in the pinnace. Of the remaining forty-two Drake selected
eighteen of the best. A number were still ill abed, and these he left
behind in the care of Ellis Hixom and his little band of shipkeepers.
The dried meat and biscuit were then packed carefully into bundles. The
eighteen took their weapons, with such necessaries as they thought they
might require. Drake called Hixom aside, and gave him "straight charge,
in any case not to trust any messenger that should come in his name with
any tokens, unless he brought his handwriting: which he knew could not
be counterfeited by the Cimaroons or Spaniards." A last farewell was
taken; thirty brawny Cimmeroons swung the packs upon their shoulders,
shaking their javelins in salute. The shipkeepers sounded "A loath to
depart," and dipped their colours. The forty-eight adventurers then
formed into order, and marched away into the forest on their perilous
journey.
Having such stalwart carriers, the English were able to march light,
"not troubled with anything but our furniture." The Maroons carried
"every one of them two sorts of arrows" in addition to the packs of
victuals, for they had promised to provide fresh food upon the march for
all the company. "Every day we were marching by sun-rising," says the
narrative, taking the cool of the morning before the sun was hot. At
"ten in the forenoon" a halt was called for dinner, which they ate in
quiet "ever near some river." This halt lasted until after twelve. Then
they marched again till four, at which time they sought out a river-bank
for their camping ground. Often they slept in old huts built by the
Indians "when they travelled through these woods," but more frequently
the Maroons built them new ones, having a strange skill in that craft.
Then they would light little fires of wood inside the huts, giving a
clear red glow, with just sufficient smoke to keep away mosquitoes. They
would sup pleasantly together there, snugly sheltered from the rain if
any fell; warm if it were cold, as on the hills; and cool if it were
hot, as in the jungle. When the Indians had lit their little "light
Wood" candles these huts must have been delightful places, full of jolly
talk and merry music. Outside, by the river-brink, the frogs would
croak; and, perhaps, the adventurers heard "the shriekings of Snakes and
other Insects," such as scared Lionel Wafer there about a century later.
Those who ventured out into the night were perplexed by the innumerable
multitude of fireflies that spangled the darkness with their golden
sparks. In the mornings the brilliant blue and green macaws aroused them
with their guttural cries "like Men who speak much in the Throat." The
chicaly bird began his musical quick cuckoo cry, the corrosou tolled out
his bell notes, the "waggish kinds of Monkeys" screamed and chattered in
the branches, playing "a thousand antick Tricks." Then the sun came up
in his splendour above the living wall of greenery, and the men buckled
on their gear, and fell in for the road.
As they marched, they sometimes met with droves of peccary or warree.
Then six Maroons would lay their burdens down, and make a slaughter of
them, bringing away as much of the dainty wild pork as they could carry.
Always they had an abundance of fresh fruit, such as "Mammeas" ("very
wholesome and delicious"), "Guavas, Palmitos, Pinos, Oranges, Lemons and
divers others." Then there were others which were eaten "first dry
roasted," as "Plantains, Potatoes, and such like," besides bananas and
the delicious sapadilloes. On one occasion "the Cimaroons found an
otter, and prepared it to be drest: our Captain marvelling at it. Pedro,
our chief Cimaroon, asked him, "Are you a man of war, and in want; and
yet doubt whether this be meat, that hath blood? Herewithal [we read]
our Captain rebuked himself secretly, that he had so slightly
considered of it before."
After three days' wandering in the woods the Maroons brought them to a
trim little Maroon town, which was built on the side of a hill by a
pretty river. It was surrounded by "a dyke of eight feet broad, and a
thick mud wall of ten feet high, sufficient to stop a sudden surpriser.
It had one long and broad street, lying east and west, and two other
cross streets of less breadth and length," containing in all some "five
or six and fifty households." It was "kept so clean and sweet, that not
only the houses, but the very streets were pleasant to behold"--a thing,
doubtless, marvellous to one accustomed to an Elizabethan English town.
"In this town we saw they lived very civilly and cleanly," for, as soon
as the company marched in, the thirty carriers "washed themselves in the
river and changed their apparel," which was "very fine and fitly made,"
after the Spanish cut. The clothes, by all accounts, were only worn on
state occasions. They were long cotton gowns, either white or rusty
black, "shap'd like our Carter's Frocks."
The town was thirty-five leagues from Nombre de Dios and forty-five from
Panama. It had been surprised the year before Drake came there (1572) by
150 Spanish troops under "a gallant gentleman," who had been guided
thither by a recreant Maroon. He attacked a little before the dawn, and
cut down many women and children, but failed to prevent the escape of
nearly all the men. In a little while they rallied, and attacked the
Spaniards with great fury, killing their guide and four-fifths of their
company. The wretched remnant straggled back as best they could "to
return answer to them which sent them." The natives living there at the
time of Drake's visit kept a continual watch some three miles from the
town, to prevent a second surprise. Any Spaniards whom they met they
"killed like beasts."
The adventurers passed a night in the town, and stayed until noon of the
day following. The Maroons told them stories of their battles with the
Spaniards, while Drake inquired into "their affection in religion." He
learned that they had no kind of priests; "only they held the Cross in
great reputation"--having, perhaps, learned so much of Christianity from
the Spaniards. Drake seems to have done a little earnest missionary
work, for he persuaded them "to leave their crosses, and to learn the
Lord's Prayer, and to be instructed in some measure concerning God's
true worship." After dinner on the 7th of February the company took to
the roads again, refusing to take any of the countless recruits who
offered their services. Four Maroons went on ahead to mark a trail by
breaking branches or flinging a bunch of leaves upon the ground. After
these four, marched twelve more Maroons as a sort of vanguard. Then came
Drake with his men and the two Maroon chiefs. Another troop of twelve
Maroons brought up the rear. The Maroons marched in strict silence,
"which they also required us to keep," for it is the custom among nearly
all savage folk to remain silent on the trail.
The way now led them through parts less swampy, and, therefore, less
densely tangled over than those nearer the "North Sea." "All the way was
through woods very cool and pleasant," says the narrative, "by reason of
those goodly and high trees, that grow there so thick." They were
mounting by slow degrees to the "ridge between the two seas," and the
woodland was getting clear of undergrowth. As later buccaneers have
noted, the upper land of the isthmus is wooded with vast trees, whose
branches shut out the sun. Beneath these trees a man may walk with
pleasure, or indeed ride, for there is hardly any undergrowth. The
branches are so thick together that the lower ground receives no
sunlight, and, therefore, little grows there. The heat of the sun is
shut out, and "it is cooler travelling there ... in that hot region,
than it is in ... England in the summer time." As the men began to
ascend, the Maroons told them that not far away there grew a great tree
about midway between the oceans, "from which we might at once discern
the North Sea from whence we came, and the South Sea whither we were
going." On the 11th of February, after four days of slow but steady
climbing, they "came to the height of the desired hill, a very high
hill, lying East and West, like a ridge between the two seas." It was
ten o'clock in the forenoon, the hour at which the dinner halt was made.
Pedro, the Maroon chief, now took Drake's hand, and "prayed him to
follow him if he was desirous to see at once the two seas which he had
so longed for." Drake followed Pedro to the hilltop, to the "goodly and
great high Tree," of which the Maroons had spoken. He found that they
had hacked out steps upon the bole, "to ascend up near unto the top,"
where they had built a pleasant little hut of branches thatched from the
sun, "wherein ten or twelve men might easily sit." "South and north of
this Tree" the Maroons had felled certain trees "that the prospect might
be the clearer." At its base there was a number of strong houses "that
had been built long before," perhaps by an older people than the
Cimmeroons. The tree seems to have been a place of much resort among
that people, as it lay in their paths across the isthmus, and towards
the west.
Drake climbed the tree with Pedro to the little sunny bower at the top.
A fresh breeze which was blowing, had blown away the mists and the heat
haze, so that the whole isthmus lay exposed before him, in the golden
sunlight. There to the north, like a bright blue jewel, was "the
Atlantic Ocean whence now we came." There to the south, some thirty
miles away, was "that sea of which he had heard such golden reports."
He looked at the wonderful South Sea, and "besought Almighty God of His
goodness, to give him life and leave to sail once in an English ship, in
that sea." The prayer was granted to him, for in five years' time he was
off that very coast with such a spoil as no ship ever took before.
Having glutted his eyes with the sight, Drake called up all his English
followers, and "acquainted John Oxenham especially with this his
petition and purpose, if it would please God to grant him that
happiness." Oxenham answered fervently that "unless our Captain did beat
him from his company, he would follow him, by God's grace." He fulfilled
his vow a few months later, with disaster to himself and his associates.
"Thoroughly satisfied with the sight of the seas," the men descended to
their dinner with excellent appetite. They then pushed on lightly as
before, through continual forest, for another two days. On the 13th of
February, when they had gained the west side of the Cheapo River, the
forest broke away into little knots of trees green and goodly, which
showed like islands in a rolling ocean of green grass. They were come to
the famous savannahs, over which roamed herds of black cattle, swift and
savage. Everywhere about them was the wiry stipa grass, and "a kind of
grass with a stalk as big as a great wheaten reed, which hath a blade
issuing from the top of it, on which though the cattle feed, yet it
groweth every day higher, until the top be too high for an ox to reach."
The inhabitants of the country were wont to burn the grass every year,
but "after it is thus burnt" it "springeth up fresh like green corn"
within three days. "Such," says the narrative, "is the great
fruitfulness of the soil: by reason of the evenness of the day and the
night, and the rich dews which fall every morning." As the raiders
advanced along this glorious grass-land they sometimes caught sight of
Panama. Whenever they topped a rise they could see the city, though
very far away; and at last, "on the last day," they saw the ships riding
in the road, with the blue Pacific trembling away into the sky beyond
them. Now was the woodcock near the gin, and now the raiders had to
watch their steps. There was no cover on those rolling sweeps of grass.
They were within a day's journey of the city. The grass-land (as Drake
gathered from his guides) was a favourite hunting-ground of the city
poulterers, for there, as Drake puts it, "the Dames of Panama are wont
to send forth hunters and fowlers, for taking of sundry dainty fowl,
which the land yieldeth." Such a body of men as theirs might readily be
detected by one of these sportsmen, and one such detection would surely
ruin the attempt. They therefore, crept like snakes "out of all ordinary
way," worming themselves through the grass-clumps till they came to a
little river-bed, in which a trickle of water ran slowly across the
sun-bleached pebbles. They were minded to reach a grove or wood about a
league from Panama. The sun beat upon them fiercely, and it was
necessary for them to travel in the heat of the day. In that open
country the midday heat was intense, but they contrived to gain the
shelter of the wood by three that afternoon. "This last day," says the
narrative, "our Captain did behold and view the most of all that fair
city, discerning the large street which lieth directly from the sea into
the land, South and North."
Having gained the shelter of the wood, Drake chose out a Maroon "that
had served a master in Panama" to venture into the city as a spy. He
dressed the man "in such apparel as the Negroes of Panama do use to
wear," and sent him off to the town an hour before night, "so that by
the closing in of the evening he might be in the city." He gave the man
strict charge to find out "the certain night, and the time of the night,
when the carriers laded the Treasure from the King's Treasure House to
Nombre de Dios." The first stage of the journey (from Panama to Venta
Cruz) was always undertaken in the cool of the night, "because the
country is all champion, and consequently by day very hot." From Venta
Cruz to Nombre de Dios "they travel always by day and not by night,
because all that way is full of woods and therefore very cool." Drake's
plan was to waylay one of the treasure trains on the night journey
towards Venta Cruz. The Maroon soon returned to the little wood where
the men were lying. He had entered the town without trouble, and had met
with some old companions, who had told him all he wished to know. A
treasure train was to start that very night, for a great Spanish
gentleman, the treasurer of Lima, "was intending to pass into Spain" in
a swift advice ship which stayed for him at Nombre de Dios. "His
daughter and family" were coming with him, "having fourteen mules in
company, of which eight were laden with gold, and one with jewels."
After this troop, two other recuas, "of fifty mules in each," would take
the road, carrying victuals and wine for the fleet, "with some little
quantity of silver."
As soon as the news had been conveyed to Drake, he marched his men away
from Panama towards Venta Cruz, some four leagues' journey. He halted
them about two leagues to the south of Venta Cruz, in a clump of tall
grass, and then examined a Spanish prisoner whom his scouts had caught.
Two of the Maroons, stealing forward along the line of march, had
scented the acrid smoke of a burning match carried by some arquebusier.
They had crept up "by scent of the said match," and had heard a sound of
snoring coming from the grass by the roadside. A Spanish sentry had
fallen asleep upon his post, "and being but one they fell upon him,
stopped his mouth from crying, put out his match," and bound him so
effectually "that they well near strangled him." He was in the pay of
the King's treasurer, who had hired him, with others, to guard the
treasure train upon its march from Venta Cruz. He had fallen asleep
while waiting for the mules to arrive, as he knew that he would get no
sleep until the company he marched with was safe in Nombre de Dios. He
was in terror of his life, for he believed that he had fallen into the
hands of the Maroons, from whom he might expect no mercy. When he
learned that he was a prisoner to Francis Drake he plucked up courage,
"and was bold to make two requests unto him." First, he asked that Drake
would order the Maroons to spare his life, for he knew that they "hated
the Spaniards, especially the soldiers, extremely," but a word from such
a Captain would be enough to save him. The second request was also
personal. He assured them, upon the faith of a soldier, that "they
should have that night more gold, besides jewels, and pearls of great
price, than all they could carry"; if not, he swore, let them deal with
him as they would. But, he added, if the raiders are successful, "then
it might please our Captain to give unto him, as much as might suffice
for him and his mistress to live upon, as he had heard our Captain had
done to divers others"--promising, in such a case, to make his name as
famous as any of them which had received the like favour.
Being now "at the place appointed" Drake divided his men into two
companies. With eight Englishmen and fifteen Cimmeroons he marched to
some long grass about fifty paces from the road. He sent John Oxenham,
with Pedro and the other company of men, to the other side of the road,
at the same distance from it, but a little farther to the south, in
order that, "as occasion served, the former company might take the
foremost mules by the heads," while Oxenham's party did that service for
those which followed. The arrangement also provided "that if we should
have need to use our weapons that night, we might be sure not to
endamage our fellows." Having reached their stations, the men lay down
to wait, keeping as quiet as they could. In about an hour's time they
heard the clanging of many mule bells, making a loud music, in the
direction of Venta Cruz. Mules were returning from that town to Panama;
for with the fleet at Nombre de Dios there was much business between the
two seaports, and the mule trains were going and coming several times a
day. As they listened, they heard more mule bells ringing far away on
the road from Panama. The treasurer with his company was coming.
Now, Drake had given strict orders that no man should show himself, or
as much as budge from his station, "but let all that came from Venta
Cruz [which was nothing but merchandise] to pass quietly." Yet one of
the men, probably one of Oxenham's men, of the name of Robert Pike, now
disobeyed those orders. "Having drunken too much aqua-vitæ without
water," he forgot himself. He rose from his place in the grass,
"enticing a Cimaroon with him," and crept up close to the road, "with
intent to have shown his forwardness on the foremost mules." Almost
immediately a cavalier came trotting past from Venta Cruz upon a fine
horse, with a little page running at the stirrup. As he trotted by,
Robert Pike "rose up to see what he was." The Cimmeroon promptly pulled
him down, and sat upon him; but his promptness came too late to save the
situation. All the English had put their shirts over their other
apparel, "that we might be sure to know our own men in the pell mell in
the night." The Spanish cavalier had glanced in Robert Pike's direction,
and had seen a figure rising from the grass "half all in white" and very
conspicuous. He had heard of Drake's being on the coast, and at once
came to the conclusion that that arch-pirate had found his way through
the woods to reward himself for his disappointment at Nombre de Dios.
He was evidently a man of great presence of mind. He put spurs to his
horse, and galloped off down the road, partly to escape the danger, but
partly also to warn the treasure train, the bells of which were now
clanging loudly at a little distance from the ambuscade.
Drake heard the trotting horse's hoofs clatter out into a furious
gallop. He suspected that he had been discovered, "but could not imagine
by whose fault, neither did the time give him the leasure to search." It
was a still night, and he had heard no noise, yet something had startled
the cavalier. Earnestly hoping that the rider had been alarmed by the
silence of the night and the well-known danger of the road, he lay down
among the grass again to wait for the mules to come. The bells clanged
nearer and nearer, till at last the mules were trotting past the ambush.
The captains blew their whistles to the attack. The raiders rose from
the grass-clumps with a cheer. There was a rush across the narrow
trackway at the drivers, the mules were seized, and in a moment, two
full recuas were in the raiders' hands.
So far all had gone merrily. The sailors turned to loot the mule packs,
congratulating themselves upon their glorious good fortune. It must have
been a strange scene to witness--the mules scared and savage, the jolly
seamen laughing as they pulled the packs away, the Maroons grinning and
chattering, and the harness and the bells jingling out a music to the
night. As the packs were ripped open a mutter of disappointment began to
sound among the ranks of the spoilers. Pack after pack was found to
consist of merchandise--vicuna wool, or dried provender for the
galleons. The amount of silver found amounted to a bare two horse loads.
Gold there was none. The jewels of the King's treasurer were not to be
discovered. The angry sailors turned upon the muleteers for an
explanation. The chief muleteer, "a very sensible fellow," was taken to
Drake, who soon learned from him the reason why the catch was so poor.
The cavalier who had noticed Robert Pike was the saviour of the
treasure. As soon as the figure half all in white had risen ghost-like
by the road, he had galloped to the treasure mules to report what he had
seen to the treasurer. The thing he had seen was vague, but it was yet
too unusual to pass unnoticed. Drake, he said, was a person of devilish
resource, and it was highly probable, he thought, that the pirates had
come "in covert through the woods" to recoup themselves for their former
disappointments. A white shirt was the usual uniform for men engaged in
night attacks. No Maroon would wear such a thing in that locality, and,
therefore, it would be well to let the food train pass ahead of the
treasure. The loss of the food train would be a little matter, while it
would surely show them whether an ambush lay in wait or not. The
treasurer had accordingly drawn his company aside to allow the food
mules to get ahead of him. As soon as the noise upon the road advised
him that the enemy had made their spring, he withdrew quietly towards
Panama. "Thus," says the narrative, "we were disappointed of a most rich
booty: which is to be though God would not should be taken, for that, by
all likelihood, it was well gotten by that Treasurer."
We are not told what happened to Robert Pike, but it is probable that he
had a bad five minutes when the muleteer's story reached the sailors. It
was bad enough to have marched all day under a broiling sun, and to lose
a royal fortune at the end; but that was not all, nor nearly all: they
were now discovered to the enemy, who lay in considerable force in their
front and rear. They were wearied out with marching, yet they knew very
well that unless they "shifted for themselves betimes" all the
Spaniards of Panama would be upon them. They had a bare two or three
hours' grace in which to secure themselves. They had marched four
leagues that night, and by marching back those same four leagues they
might win to cover by the morning. If they marched forward they might
gain the forest in two leagues; but Venta Cruz lay in the road, and
Venta Cruz was guarded day and night by a company of Spanish troops. To
reach the forest by the latter road they would have to make a way with
their swords, but with men so tired and out of heart it seemed the
likelier route of the two. It was better, Drake thought, "to encounter
his enemies while he had strength remaining, than to be encountered or
chased when they should be worn out with weariness." He bade all hands
to eat and drink from the provisions found upon the mules, and while
they took their supper he told them what he had resolved to do. He
called upon Pedro, the Maroon, by name, asking "whether he would give
his hand not to forsake him." Pedro swore that he would rather die at
his feet than desert him in such a pass--a vow which assured Drake of
the loyalty of his allies. As soon as supper was over, he bade the men
mount upon the mules, so that they might not weary themselves with
marching. An hour's trot brought them to the woods within a mile of
Venta Cruz, where they dismounted, and went afoot, after bidding the
muleteers not to follow if they cared for whole skins. The road was here
some ten or twelve feet broad, "so as two Recuas may pass one by
another." It was paved with cobbles, which had been beaten into the mud
by Indian slaves. On either side of it was the dense tropical forest,
"as thick as our thickest hedges in England that are oftenest cut."
Among the tangle, about half-a-mile from the town, the Spaniards had
taken up a strong position. The town guard of musketeers had been
reinforced by a number of friars from a religious house. They lay
there, hidden in the jungle, blowing their matches to keep them burning
clearly. Two Maroons, whom Drake had sent forward as scouts, crept back
to him with the news that the enemy were there in force, for they had
smelt the reek of the smouldering matches and heard the hushed noise of
many men moving in the scrub. Drake gave orders that no man should fire
till the Spaniards had given them a volley, for he thought they would
first parley with him, "as indeed fell out." Soon afterwards, as the men
neared the Spanish ambush, a Spanish captain rose from the road, and
"cried out, Hoo!" Drake answered with, "Hallo!"--the sailor's reply to a
hail. The Spaniard then put the query "Que gente?" to which Drake
answered "Englishmen." The Spaniard, "in the name of the King of Spain
his master," then charged him to surrender, passing his word as a
gentleman soldier that the whole company should be treated courteously.
Drake made a few quick steps towards the Spaniard, crying out that "for
the honour of the Queen of England, his mistress, he must have passage
that way." As he advanced, he fired his pistol towards him, in order to
draw the Spanish fire. Immediately the thicket burst out into flame; for
the ambush took the shot for a signal, and fired off their whole volley.
Drake received several hail-shot in his body. Many of the men were
wounded, and one man fell sorely hurt. As the volley crackled out its
last few shots, Drake blew his whistle, as a signal to his men to fire.
A volley of shot and arrows was fired into the thicket, and the company
at once advanced, "with intent to come to handy strokes." As they
stormed forward to the thicket, the Spaniards fled towards a position of
greater strength. Drake called upon his men to double forward to prevent
them. The Maroons at once rushed to the front, "with their arrows ready
in their bows, and their manner of country dance or leap, singing Yó
péhó! Yó péhó, and so got before us where they continued their leap and
song after the manner of their own country wars." The Spaniards heard
the war-cry ringing out behind them, and fell back rapidly upon the
town. Near the town's end a party of them rallied, forming a sort of
rearguard to cover the retreat. As they took up a position in the woods,
the Maroons charged them upon both flanks, while the English rushed
their centre. There was a mad moment of fighting in the scrub. A Maroon
went down with a pike through the body; but he contrived to kill the
pikeman before he died. Several Englishmen were hurt. The Spaniards'
loss is not mentioned, but it was probably severe. They broke and fled
before the fury of the attack, and the whole body of fighting men,
"friars and all," were thrust back into the town by the raiders. As they
ran, the raiders pressed them home, shouting and slaying. The gates were
open. The Spanish never had another chance to rally, and the town was
taken with a rush a very few minutes after the captain's challenge in
the wood.
VENTA CRUZ
Venta Cruz, the modern Cruces, stood, and still stands, on the west or
left bank of the Chagres River. It marks the highest point to which
boats may penetrate from the North Sea. Right opposite the town the
river broadens out to a considerable width, affording berths for a
number of vessels of slight draught. At the time of Drake's raid it was
a place of much importance. The land route from Panama to Nombre de Dios
was, as we have said, boggy, dangerous, and pestilential. The freight
charges for mule transport across the isthmus were excessive, ranging
from twenty-five to thirty dollars of assayed silver for a mule load of
200 pounds weight--a charge which works out at nearly £70 a ton. Even in
the dry season the roads were bad, and the mule trains were never safe
from the Maroons. Many merchants, therefore, sent their goods to Venta
Cruz in flat-bottomed boats of about fifteen tons. These would sail from
Nombre de Dios to the mouth of the Chagres River, where they struck
sail, and took to their sweeps. The current was not very violent except
in the upper reaches, and the boats were generally able to gain Venta
Cruz in a few days--in about three days in dry weather and about twelve
in the rains. A towing-path was advocated at one time; but it does not
seem to have been laid, though the river-banks are in many places flat
and sandy, and free from the dense undergrowth of the tropics. As soon
as the boats arrived at Venta Cruz they were dragged alongside the jetty
on the river-bank, and their cargoes were transferred to some strong
stone warehouses. In due course the goods were packed on mules, and
driven away down the road to Panama, a distance of some fifteen or
eighteen miles, which the mules would cover in about eight hours. The
town at the time of Drake's raid contained about forty or fifty houses,
some of them handsome stone structures decorated with carven work. The
river-bank was covered with a great many warehouses, and there were
several official buildings, handsome enough, for the Governor and the
King's officers. There was a monastery full of friars, "where we found
above a thousand bulls and pardons, newly sent from Rome." Perhaps there
was also some sort of a barrack for the troops. The only church was the
great church of the monastery. The town was not fortified, but the
houses made a sort of hedge around it; and there were but two
entrances--the one from the forest, by which Drake's party entered; the
other leading over a pontoon bridge towards the hilly woods beyond the
Chagres. Attached to the monastery, and tended by the monks and their
servants, was a sort of sanatorium and lying-in hospital. Nombre de Dios
was so unhealthy, so full of malaria and yellow fever, "that no Spaniard
or white woman" could ever be delivered there without the loss of the
child on the second or third day. It was the custom of the matrons of
Nombre de Dios to proceed to Venta Cruz or to Panama to give birth to
their children. The babes were left in the place where they were born,
in the care of the friars, until they were five or six years old. They
were then brought to Nombre de Dios, where "if they escaped sickness the
first or second month, they commonly lived in it as healthily as in any
other place." Life in Venta Cruz must have been far from pleasant. The
Maroons were a continual menace, but the town was too well guarded, and
too close to Panama, for them to put the place in serious danger. The
inhabitants had to keep within the township; for the forest lay just
beyond the houses, and lonely wanderers were certain to be stabbed by
lurking Maroons or carried off by jaguars. In the season the mule trains
were continually coming and going, either along the swampy track to
Nombre de Dios or from Nombre de Dios to Panama. Boats came sleepily up
the Chagres to drop their anchors by the jetty, with news from the Old
World and the commodities which the New World did not yield. It must,
then, have been one of the most eventful places in the uncomfortable
isthmus; but no place can be very pleasant which has an annual rainfall
of 120 inches and a mean annual temperature of about 80°. The country
adjacent is indescribably beautiful; the river is clear and brilliant;
the woods are gorgeous with many-coloured blossoms, and with birds and
butterflies that gleam in green and blue among the leaves. During the
rains the river sometimes rises forty feet in a night, and sweeps into
the town with masses of rotting verdure from the hills. There is always
fever in the place, but in the rainy season it is more virulent than in
the dry. At present the town has few white inhabitants. The fair stone
houses which Drake saw are long since gone, having been destroyed in one
of the buccaneering raids a century later. The modern town is a mere
collection of dirty huts, inhabited by negroes, half-breeds, and
Indians.
CHAPTER V
BACK TO THE MAIN BODY
The treasure train--The spoil--Captain Tetû hurt
As soon as the town was in his hands, Drake set guards on the bridge
across the Chagres and at the gate by which he had entered the town. He
gave orders to the Maroons that they were not to molest women or unarmed
men. He gave them free permission to take what they would from the
stores and houses, and then went in person to comfort some gentlewomen
"which had lately been delivered of children there." They were in terror
of their lives, for they had heard the shouts and firing, and had
thought that the Maroons were coming. They refused to listen to the
various comforters whom Drake had sent to them, and "never ceased most
earnestly entreating" that Drake himself would come to them. Drake
succeeded in reassuring them that nothing "to the worth of a garter"
would be taken from them. They then dried their tears, and were
comforted.
The raiders stayed in the town about an hour and a half, during which
time they succeeded in getting together a little comfortable dew of
heaven--not gold, indeed, nor silver, but yet "good pillage." Drake
allowed them this latitude so that they might not be cast down by the
disappointment of the night. He gave orders, however, that no heavy loot
should be carried from the town, because they had yet many miles to go,
and were still in danger of attack. While the men were getting their
spoils together, ready for marching, and eating a hasty breakfast in
the early morning light, a sudden fusillade began at the Panama gate.
Some ten or twelve cavaliers had galloped in from Panama, supposing that
the pirates had left the town. They had come on confidently, right up to
the muzzles of the sentries' muskets. They had then been met with a
shattering volley, which killed and wounded half their number and sent
the others scattering to the woods. Fearing that they were but a
scouting party, and that a troop of horse might be following to support
them, Drake gave the word to fall in for the road. The spoil, such as it
was, was shouldered; Drake blew a blast upon his whistle; the men formed
up into their accustomed marching order, and tramped away from Venta
Cruz, across the Chagres bridge, just as the dawn set the parrots
screeching and woke the monkeys to their morning song. They seem to have
expected no pursuit; but Drake was not a man to run unnecessary risks.
His men, including the Maroons, were "grown very valiant," yet they were
granted no further chance to show their valour. Drake told them that
they had now been "well near a fortnight" from the ship, with her
company of sick and sorry sailors. He was anxious to rejoin her without
delay, so the word was given to force the marching. He refused to visit
the Indian villages, though the Maroons begged him earnestly to do so.
His one wish was to rejoin Ellis Hixom. He "hustled" his little company
without mercy, encouraging them "with such example and speech that the
way seemed much shorter." He himself, we are told, "marched most
cheerfully," telling his comrades of the golden spoils they would win
before they sailed again for England. There was little ease on that
march to the coast, for Drake would allow no one to leave the ranks.
When provisions ran out they had to march on empty stomachs. There was
no hunting of the peccary or the deer, as on the jolly progress
westward. "We marched many days with hungry stomachs," says the
narrative, and such was the hurry of the march that many of the men
"fainted with sickness of weariness." Their clothes were hanging on
their backs in shreds and tatters. Their boots had long since cracked
and rotted. Many of them were marching with their feet wrapped up in
rags. Many of them were so footsore they could scarcely put their feet
upon the ground. Swaying, limping, utterly road-weary, they came
tottering into a little village which the Maroons had built as a
rest-house for them, about three leagues from the ship. They were quite
exhausted. Their feet were bloody and swollen. The last stages had been
marched with great bodily suffering, "all our men complaining of the
tenderness of their feet." Drake complained also, "sometimes without
cause, but sometimes with cause indeed; which made the rest to bear the
burden the more easily." Some of the men were carried in by the Maroons.
Indeed, the Maroons had saved the whole party from collapse, for they
not only built them shelter huts at night, carried the weary, and found,
or made, them a road to travel by, but they also bore the whole burden
of the company's arms and necessaries. Their fellows who had stayed with
Ellis Hixom had built the little town in the woods, for the refreshment
of all hands, in case they should arrive worn out with marching. At
sunset on the evening of Saturday, the 22nd of February, the weary crew
arrived at the little town, to the great joy of the Maroons who kept
watch and ward there. The tired men lay down to rest, while Drake
"despatched a Cimaroon with a token and certain order to the Master."
The day had dawned before this messenger arrived upon the sands near
which the ship was moored. He hailed her, crying out that he came with
news, and immediately a boat pushed off, manned by men "which longed to
hear of our Captain's speeding." As soon as he appeared before Ellis
Hixom, he handed over Drake's golden toothpick, "which he said our
Captain had sent for a token to Ellis Hixom, with charge to meet him at
such a river." The sight of the golden toothpick was too much for Ellis
Hixom. He knew it to be his Captain's property, but coming as it did,
without a sign in writing, it convinced him that "something had befallen
our Captain otherwise than well." The Maroon saw him staring "as
amazed," and told him that it was dark when Drake had packed him off, so
that no letter could be sent, "but yet with the point of his knife, he
wrote something upon the toothpick, 'which,' he said, 'should be
sufficient to gain credit to the messenger.'" Looking closely at the
sliver of gold, Hixom saw a sentence scratched upon it: "By me, Francis
Drake," which convinced him that the message was genuine. He at once
called away one of the pinnaces, storing her with "what provision he
could," and promptly set sail for the mouth of the Tortugos River, a few
miles along the coast, to the west of where he lay, for there Drake
intended to await him.
At about three o'clock that afternoon, Drake marched his men, or all
who were fit to march, out of the forest to the sandy beach at the
river's mouth. Half-an-hour later the tattered ragamuffins saw the
pinnace running in to take them off, "which was unto us all a double
rejoicing: first that we saw them, and next, so soon." The whole
company stood up together on the beach to sing some of the psalms of
thanksgiving--praising God "most heartily, for that we saw our pinnace
and fellows again." To Ellis Hixom and his gang of shipkeepers the
raiders appeared "as men strangely changed," though Drake was less
changed than the others, in spite of the wound he got at Venta Cruz.
The three weeks' march in that abominable country, and the last few
days of "fasting and sore travail," would have been enough to "fore
pine and waste" the very strongest, while "the grief we drew inwardly,
for that we returned without that gold and treasure we hoped for, did
no doubt show her print and footsteps in our faces." The next day the
pinnace rowed "to another river in the bottom of the bay" to pick up
the stragglers who had stayed to rest with the Maroons. The company was
then reunited in the secret haven. Wonderful tales were told of the
journey across the isthmus, of the South Sea, with its lovely city, and
of the rush through the grass in the darkness, when the mule bells came
clanging past, that night near Venta Cruz. The sick men recovering from
their calentures "were thoroughly revived" by these tales. They
importuned Drake to take them with him on the next foray; for Drake
gave out that he meant not to leave off thus, but would once again
attempt the same journey. In the general rejoicing and merry-making it
is possible that Robert Pike remained aloof in the darkness of the
'tween decks, deprived of his allowance of aqua-vitæ.
Drake noted the eager spirit among his men, and determined to give it
vent. He called them together to a consultation, at which they discussed
what was best to be done until the mule trains again set forth from
Panama. There was Veragua, "a rich town lying to the Westward, between
Nombre de Dios and Nicaragua, where is the richest mine of fine gold
that is on this North side." At Veragua also there were little rivers,
in which "oftentimes they find pieces of gold as big as peas." Then, if
Veragua were thought ill of, as too difficult, there were treasure ships
to intercept as they wallowed home for Spain from Nombre de Dios. Or the
men might keep themselves employed in capturing victual frigates for the
stocking of the ship before they attacked another recua. This last
scheme was flouted by many as unnecessary. They had food enough, they
said, and what they lacked the country would supply, but the treasure,
the comfortable dew of heaven, for which they had come so far, was the
main thing, and to get that they were ready to venture on the galleons,
soldiers or no soldiers. At this point the Maroons were called in to
give their opinion. Most of them had served the Spaniards as slaves in
one town or another of the Main. Several of them had worked under the
whip of a wealthy Spaniard in Veragua, a creature of the name of Pezoro,
who was "bad and cruel, not only to his slaves, but unto all men." This
gentleman lived in a strong stone house at a little distance from the
town. He had amassed a vast quantity of treasure, for he owned a gold
mine, which he worked with 100 slaves. He lived with a guard of
soldiers, but the Maroons felt confident that by attacking from the
shore side of the house they could easily break in upon him. His gold
was stored in his house "in certain great chests." If they succeeded in
surprising the house, it would be an easy matter to make a spoil of the
whole. Drake did not care for the scheme, as it involved a long march
through the woods. He hesitated to put his men to so much labour, for he
had now seen something of this woodland marching, and knew how desperate
a toil it was. He thought that they would be better employed in
gathering victuals and looking out for treasure transports. They might
practise both crafts at the same time by separating into two companies.
John Oxenham, in the _Bear_ frigate, could sail "Eastwards towards Tolu,
to see what store of victuals would come athwart his halse." In the
meanwhile he would take the _Minion_ pinnace to the west, to "lie off
and on the Cabezas" in order to intercept any treasure transports coming
from Veragua or Nicaragua to Nombre de Dios. Those of the Maroons who
cared to stay aboard the _Pascha_ were free to do so. The rest were
dismissed "most courteously" with "gifts and favours" of the sorts most
pleasing to them, such as knives, iron, coloured ribbons and cloth.
The companies were picked; the pinnaces received their stores; sails
were bent and set, and the two boats sailed away to their stations. Off
the Cabezas the _Minion_ fell in with a frigate from Nicaragua "in which
was some gold and a Genoese pilot." Drake treated this pilot in his
usual liberal manner till he won him over to his interests. He had been
in Veragua harbour, he said, but eight days before. He knew the channel
perfectly, so that he could carry Drake in, at night if need were, at
any state of the tide. The townsfolk, he said, were in a panic on
account of Drake's presence in those seas; they were in such a state of
terror that they could not decide upon a scheme to defend the town in
case he attacked it. Signor Pezoro was thinking of removing himself to
the South Seas. The harbour lay open to any enemy, for the only guns in
the place were up at the town, about fifteen miles from the haven's
mouth. If Drake made a sudden dash, he said, he would be able to cut out
a frigate in the harbour. She was fitting for the sea there, and was
very nearly ready to sail. She had aboard her "above a million of gold,"
which, with a little promptness and courage, might become the property
of the raiders. On hearing of this golden booty, Drake thought of all
that the Maroons had told him. He was minded to return to the anchorage,
to fetch off some of those who had lived with Senor Pezoro, in order
that he might have a check upon the pilot's statements, and a guide, if
need were, to the city. The Genoese dissuaded him from this scheme,
pointing out that a return to the ship would waste several days, during
which the frigate might get away to sea. Drake, therefore, took the
packets of gold from the Nicaraguan prize, and dismissed her "somewhat
lighter to hasten her journey." He then got his oars out, and made all
haste to the west, under a press of sail, "to get this harbour, and to
enter it by night." He hoped to cut out the treasure ship and to have a
look at the house of Senor Pezoro--two investments which would "make"
the voyage if all went well. But as the boat drew near to the mouth of
the harbour "we heard the report of two Chambers, and farther off, about
a league within the bay, two others as it were answering them." The
Spaniards had espied the boat, and had fired signal guns to warn the
shipping and the town. The report of the guns called the Spaniards to
arms--an exercise they were more ready to since the Governor of Panama
had warned them to expect Drake. "The rich Gnuffe Pezoro," it was
thought, had paid the cost of the sentries. "It was not God's will that
we should enter at that time," says the narrative. The wind shifted
opportunely to the westward; and Drake put his helm up, and ran away to
the east, where he picked up the _Bear_, "according to appointment."
Oxenham had had a very prosperous and pleasant cruise, for off Tolu he
had come across a victual frigate "in which there were ten men [whom
they set ashore], great store of maize, twenty-eight fat hogs, and two
hundred hens." The lading was discharged into the _Pascha_ on the 19th
and 20th of March as a seasonable refreshment to the company. The
frigate pleased Drake, for though she was small (not twenty tons, in
fact) she was strong, new, and of a beautiful model. As soon as her
cargo was out of her, he laid her on her side, and scraped and tallowed
her "to make her a Man of war." He then fitted her with guns from the
_Pascha_, and stored her with provisions for a cruise. The Spaniards
taken in her had spoken of "two little galleys built in Nombre de Dios,
to waft [tow] the Chagres Fleet to and fro." They were "not yet both
launched," and the Chagres fleet lay waiting for them within the mouth
of the Chagres River. Drake "purposed now to adventure for that Fleet."
The day on which he made his plan was Easter Sunday, the 22nd March.
"And to hearten his company" for that bold attempt "he feasted them that
Easter Day with great cheer and cheerfulness" on the dainties taken from
the Spaniards.
The next day, he manned "the new tallowed frigate of Tolu," and sailed
away west (with Oxenham in the _Bear_ in company) "towards the
Cativaas," where they landed to refresh themselves. As they played about
upon the sand, flinging pebbles at the land-crabs, they saw a sail to
the westward coming down towards them. They at once repaired aboard, and
made sail, and "plied towards" the stranger, thinking her to be a
Spaniard. The stranger held on her course as though to run the raiders
aboard, "till he perceived by our confidence that we were no Spaniards,
and conjectured we were those Englishmen of whom he had heard long
before." He bore up suddenly under the lee of the English ships, "and in
token of amity shot off his lee ordnance"--a salute which Drake at once
acknowledged by a similar discharge. As the ships neared each other, the
stranger hailed Drake, saying that he was Captain Tetû, or Le Testu, a
Frenchman of Newhaven (or Havre), in desperate want of water. He had
been looking for Drake, he said, for the past five weeks, "and prayed
our Captain to help him to some water, for that he had nothing but wine
and cider aboard him, which had brought his men into great
sickness"--gastritis or dysentery. Drake at once sent a boat aboard with
a cask or two of drink, and some fresh meat, "willing him to follow us
to the next port, where he should have both water and victuals."
As soon as they had brought their ships to anchor, the French captain
sent Drake "a case of pistols, and a fair gilt scimitar (which had been
the late King's of France) whom Monsieur Montgomery hurt in the eye."
The Frenchman had received it from "Monsieur Strozze," or Strozzi, a
famous general of banditti. Drake accepted the gift in the magnificent
manner peculiar to him, sending the bearer back to Tetû with a chain of
gold supporting a tablet of enamel. Having exchanged gifts, according to
the custom of the sea, Captain Tetû came off to visit Drake. He was a
Huguenot privateer, who had been in France at the time of the Massacre
of St Bartholomew, the murder of Coligny, "and divers others murders."
He had "thought those Frenchmen the happiest which were farthest from
France," and had, therefore, put to sea to escape from persecution. He
was now cruising off the Spanish Main, "a Man of war as we were." He had
heard much of Drake's spoils upon the coast, and "desired to know" how
he too might win a little Spanish gold. His ship was a fine craft of
more than eighty tons, manned by seventy men and boys. He asked Drake to
take him into partnership, so that they might share the next adventure.
The offer was not very welcome to Drake, for the French company was more
than double the strength of the English. Drake had but thirty-one men
left alive, and he regarded Tetû with a good deal of jealousy and a good
deal of distrust. Yet with only thirty-one men he could hardly hope to
succeed in any great adventure. If he joined with the French, he thought
there would be danger of their appropriating most of the booty after
using him and his men as their tools. The English sailors were of the
same opinion; but it was at last decided that Tetû, with twenty picked
hands, should be admitted to partnership, "to serve with our Captain for
halves." It was something of a risk, but by admitting only twenty of the
seventy men the risk was minimised. They were not enough to overpower
Drake in case they wished to make away with all the booty, yet they made
him sufficiently strong to attempt the schemes he had in hand. An
agreement was, therefore, signed; a boat was sent to the secret
anchorage to bring the Cimmeroons; and the three ships then sailed away
to the east, to the magazines of food which Drake had stored some weeks
before.
Here they lay at anchor for five or six days to enable the sick
Frenchmen to get their health and strength after their weeks of misery.
The Huguenot ship was revictualled from the magazines and then taken
with the _Bear_ into the secret haven. The third pinnace, the _Lion_,
had been sunk a few days before, but the other two, the _Eion_ and the
_Minion_, with the new Tolu frigate, were set in order for the next
adventure. Drake chose fifteen of his remaining thirty hands, and sent
them down into the pinnaces with a few Maroons. The twenty Frenchmen
joined him, under their captain, and the expedition then set sail for
Rio Francisco, fifteen miles from Nombre de Dios. As they sailed, the
Maroons gave out that the frigate was too deep a ship to cross the Rio
Francisco bar, which had little water on it at that season of the year.
They, therefore, sailed her back, and left her at the Cabezas, "manned
with English and French, in the charge of Richard Doble," with strict
orders not to venture out until the return of the pinnaces.
Putting her complement into the pinnaces, they again set sail for the
mouth of the Francisco River. They crossed the bar without difficulty,
and rowed their boats upstream. They landed some miles from the sea,
leaving the pinnaces in charge of some Maroons. These had orders to
leave the river, and hide themselves in the Cabezas, and to await the
raiders at the landing-place, without fail, in four days' time.
As soon as Drake had landed, he ordered the company in the formation he
had used on his march to Panama. He enjoined strict silence upon all,
and gave the word to march. They set forward silently, through the
cane-brakes and lush undergrowth, upon the long, seven leagues march to
the town of Nombre de Dios. They marched all day uncomplainingly, so
that at dusk they had crept to within a mile of the trackway, a little
to the south of the town. They were now on some gently rising ground,
with the swamps and Nombre de Dios at their feet. It made a good
camping-ground; and there they passed the night of the 31st of March,
resting and feasting "in great stillness, in a most convenient place."
They were so close to the town that they could hear the church bells
ringing and the clatter of the hammers in the bay, where the carpenters
were at work upon the treasure ships. They were working there busily,
beating in the rivets all night, in the coolness, to fit the ships for
sea. Nearer to them, a little to the west, was the trackway, so that
they could hear the mule trains going past to Panama with a great noise
of ringing bells.
Early on the morning of the 1st of April they heard a great clang of
bells among the woods. The mule trains were coming in from Venta
Cruz--three mule trains according to the Cimmeroons, laden with "more
gold and silver than all of us could bear away." The adventurers took
their weapons, and crept through the scrub to the trackway "to hear the
bells." In a few minutes, when each side of the track had been manned by
the adventurers, the treasure trains trotted up with a great clang and
clatter. There were three complete recuas, "one of 50 mules, the other
two of 70 each, every of which carried 300 lbs. of silver; which in all
amounted to near thirty tons." The trains were guarded by a half company
of Spanish foot, "fifteen to each company." The soldiers marched by the
side of the trains, blowing on their matches to keep the smouldering
ends alight. As the leading mules came up with the head of the ambush
Drake blew a blast upon his whistle. The raiders rose from their
hiding-place, and fired a volley of shot and arrows at the troops. At
the same moment tarry hands were laid upon the heads of the leading
mules, so that "all the rest stayed and lay down as their manner is."
The Spanish soldiers, taken by surprise, were yet a credit to their
colours. They fell into confusion at the first assault, but immediately
rallied. A brisk skirmish began, over the bodies of the mules, with
sharp firing of muskets and arrows. Captain Tetû was hit in the belly
with a charge of hail-shot; a Maroon was shot dead; and then the sailors
cleared the road with a rush, driving the Spanish pell-mell towards the
town. Then with feverish hands they cast adrift the mule packs "to ease
some of the mules, which were heaviest loaden, of their carriage." They
were among such wealth as few men have looked upon at the one time. How
much they took will never now be known, but each man there had as much
pure gold, in bars and quoits, as he could carry. They buried about
fifteen tons of silver "partly in the burrows which the great land-crabs
had made in the earth, and partly under old trees which were fallen
thereabout, and partly in the sand and gravel of a river, "not very deep
of water." Some of it, no doubt, remains there to this day.
In about two hours' time, they were ready to return to their pinnaces.
They formed into order, and hurried away towards the woods, making as
much haste as the weight of plunder would allow. As they gained the
shelter of the forest they heard a troop of horse, with some
arquebusiers, coming hurriedly to the rescue of the mules. They
attempted no pursuit, for no Spaniard cared to enter the forest to
attack a force in which Maroons were serving. The raiders were,
therefore, able to get clear away into the jungle. All that day and the
next day they hurried eastward through the scrub. They made a brief
pause, as they tramped, to lay down Captain Tetû, whose wound prevented
him from marching. He could go no farther, and begged that he might be
left behind in the forest, "in hope that some rest would recover him
better strength." Two French sailors stayed with him to protect him.
CHAPTER VI
THE ADVENTURE OF THE RAFT
Drake's voyage to the Catives--Homeward bound--The interrupted
sermon
When the retreating force had gone about two leagues, they discovered
that a Frenchman was missing from the ranks. He had not been hurt in the
fight; but there was no time to search for him (as a matter of fact, he
had drunk too much wine, and had lost himself in the woods), so again
they pressed on to the pinnaces and safety. On the 3rd of April, utterly
worn out with the hurry of the retreat, they came to the Francisco
River. They were staggering under the weight of all their plunder, and,
to complete their misery, they were wet to the skin with a rain-storm
which had raged all night. To their horror they found no pinnaces
awaiting them, but out at sea, not far from the coast, were seven
Spanish pinnaces which had been beating up the inlets for them. These
were now rowing as though directly from the rendezvous at the Cabezas,
so that the draggled band upon the shore made no doubt that their
pinnaces had been sunk, their friends killed or taken, and the retreat
cut off.
Drake's chief fear, on seeing these Spanish boats, was that "they had
compelled our men by torture to confess where his frigate and ships
were." To the disheartened folk about him it seemed that all hope of
returning home was now gone, for they made no doubt that the ships were
by this time destroyed. Some of them flung down their gold in despair,
while all felt something of the general panic. The Maroons recommended
that the march should be made by land, "though it were sixteen days'
journey," promising them that, if the ships were taken, they might
sojourn among them in the forest as long as they wished. The sailors
were in too great "distress and perplexity" to listen to counsel; but
Drake had a genius for handling situations of the kind, and he now came
forward to quell the uproar. The men were babbling and swearing in open
mutiny, and the case demanded violent remedy. He called for silence,
telling the mutineers that he was no whit better off than they were;
that it was no time to give way to fear, but a time to keep a stiff
upper lip, and play the man. He reminded them that, even if the
Spaniards had taken the pinnaces, "which God forbid," "yet they must
have time to search them, time to examine the mariners, time to execute
their resolution after it is determined." "Before all these times be
taken," he exclaimed angrily, "we may get to our ships if ye will." They
might not hope to go by land, he said, for it would take too long, and
the ways would be too foul. But why should they not go by water? There
was the river at their feet, roaring down in full spate, tumbling the
trunks of trees destroyed in last night's storm. Why in the world should
they not make a raft of the trees, "and put ourselves to sea"? "I will
be one," he concluded, "who will be the other?" The appeal went home to
the sailors. An Englishman named John Smith at once came forward, with a
couple of Frenchmen "who could swim very well." The Maroons formed into
a line beside the river, and the tree trunks were caught and hauled
ashore to form the body of the raft. The branches were trimmed with the
hatchets they had brought to clear a path through the forest. The boles
were fastened together with thongs stolen from the recua, and with the
pliant bejuca growing all about them. The men worked merrily, convinced
that Drake would find a way to bring the ship to them. As soon as the
raft was built, a mast was stepped in her, on which a biscuit sack was
hoisted for a sail. A young tree, working in a crutch, served them as a
steering oar. The four men went aboard, a line was laid out to the bar,
and the curious raft was hauled off into the sea. The last of the storm
of the night before was still roaring up aloft. A high sea was running,
and the wind blew strong from the west. Drake put his helm up, and stood
off before it, crying out to the company that "if it pleased God, he
should put his foot in safety aboard his frigate, he would, God willing,
by one means or other get them all aboard, in despite of all the
Spaniards in the Indies."
Those who have sailed on a raft in calm water will appreciate the
courage of Drake's deed. The four men aboard her had to squat in several
inches of salt water, holding on for their lives, while the green seas
came racing over them "to the arm pits" at "every surge of the wave."
The day was intensely hot in spite of the wind, and "what with the
parching of the sun and what with the beating of the salt water, they
had all of them their skins much fretted away." With blistered and
cracking faces, parched with the heat and the salt, and shivering from
the continual immersion, they sailed for six hours, making about a knot
and a half an hour. When they had made their third league "God gave them
the sight of two pinnaces" beating towards them under oars and sail, and
making heavy weather of it. The sight of the boats was a great joy to
the four sufferers on the raft. They edged towards them as best they
could, crying out that all was safe, "so that there was no cause of
fear." It was now twilight, and the wind, already fierce, was blowing up
into a gale. In the failing light, with the spray sweeping into their
eyes, the men aboard the pinnaces could not see the raft, nor could
they make headway towards her with the wind as it was. As Drake watched,
he saw them bear up for a cove to the lee of a point of land, where they
could shelter for the night. He waited a few moments to see if they
would put forth again, but soon saw that they had anchored. He then ran
his raft ashore to windward of them, on the other side of the headland.
He was very angry with the pinnaces' hands for their disobedience of
orders. Had they done as he had commanded them, they would have been in
the Francisco River the night before, and all the pains and danger of
the raft would have been unnecessary. Drake, therefore, resolved to play
a trick upon them. As soon as he landed, he set off running to the haven
where the boats lay, followed by John Smith and the two Frenchmen--all
running "in great haste," "as if they had been chased by the enemy." The
hands in the pinnaces saw the four men hurrying towards them, and at
once concluded that the Spaniards had destroyed the expedition, and that
these four hunted wretches were the sole survivors. In an agony of
suspense they got the four men into the boats, eagerly asking where the
others were, and in what state. To these inquiries "he answered coldly,
'Well'"--an answer which convinced them that their mates were either
dead or in the hands of the Spaniards. Drake watched their misery for a
little while, and then being "willing to rid all doubts, and fill them
with joy," he took from the bosom of his shirt "a quoit of gold," giving
thanks to God that the voyage was at last "made." Some Frenchmen were in
the boat, and to these he broke the news of Captain Tetû's wound and how
he had been left behind in the forest, "and two of his company with
him." He then bade the men to get the grapnels up, as he was determined
to row to the Rio Francisco that night. After the anchors were raised,
and the oars shipped, a few hours of desperate rowing brought them to
the river's mouth, where the company had camped about a fire. By the
dawn of the next day the whole expedition was embarked, and the pinnaces
(their planking cracking with the weight of treasure) were running
eastward with a fresh wind dead astern. They picked up the frigate that
morning, and then stood on for the ships, under sail, with great joy.
Soon they were lying safe at anchor in the shelter of the secret haven
at Fort Diego. All the gold and silver were laid together in a heap, and
there in the full view of all hands, French and English, Drake weighed
it on the steward's meat scales, dividing it into two equal portions, to
the satisfaction of everyone. The French took their portion aboard their
ship as soon as it had been allotted to them. They then begged Drake for
some more sea-stores, to fit them for the sea, and he gave them a
quantity of provisions from his secret magazines. They then filled their
water casks, and stood away to the west, to cruise for a few days off
the Cabezas in the hope of obtaining news of Captain Tetû.
As soon as they had gone, Drake ordered his old ship, the _Pascha_, to
be stripped of all things necessary for the fitting of the frigate, the
Spanish prize. The long months at Port Diego had left her very foul, and
it was easier to dismantle her than to fit her for the sea. While she
was being stripped to equip the frigate, Drake organised another
expedition to recover Captain Tetû and the buried silver. His men would
not allow him to take a part in this final adventure, so Oxenham, and
one Thomas Sherwell, were placed in command. Drake accompanied them as
far as the Francisco River, taking an oar in one of the pinnaces which
conveyed them. As they rowed lightly up the stream, the reeds were
thrust aside, and one of Captain Tetû's two comrades came staggering
out, and fell upon his knees. In a broken voice he thanked God that
ever Drake was born to deliver him thus, after he had given up all hope.
He told them that he had been surprised by the Spaniards half-an-hour
after he had taken up his post beside his wounded captain. As the
Spaniards came upon them, he took to his heels, followed by his mate. He
had been carrying a lot of pillage, but as he ran he threw it all away,
including a box of jewels, which caught his mate's eye as it fell in the
grass. "His fellow took it up, and burdened himself so sore that he
could make no speed," so that the Spaniards soon overtook him, and
carried him away with Captain Tetû. Having taken two of the three
Frenchmen, the Spaniards were content to leave the chase, and the poor
survivor had contrived to reach the Rio Francisco after several days of
wandering in the woods. As for the silver which they had buried so
carefully in the sands, "he thought that it was all gone ... for that
... there had been near two thousand Spaniards and Negroes there to dig
and search for it." Notwithstanding this report, John Oxenham with a
company of twenty-seven men, marched west to view the place. He found
that the earth "every way a mile distant had been digged and turned up,"
for the Spaniards had put their captives to the torture to learn what
had been done with the treasure. Most of it had been recovered by this
means, "yet nevertheless, for all that narrow search," a little of the
dew of heaven was still glimmering in the crab-holes. The company was
able to rout out some quantity of refined gold, with thirteen bars of
silver, weighing some forty pounds apiece. With this spoil upon their
backs, they returned to the Rio Francisco, where the pinnaces took them
off to the frigate.
Now that the voyage was made, it was "high time to think of homeward,"
before the Spaniards should fit out men-of-war against them. Drake was
anxious to give the _Pascha_ to the Spanish prisoners, as some
compensation for their weeks of captivity. He could not part with her,
however, till he had secured another vessel to act as tender, or
victualler, to his little frigate. He determined to make a cast to the
east, as far as the Rio Grande, to look for some suitable ship. The
Huguenot privateer, which had been lying off the Cabezas, sailed
eastward in his company, having abandoned Captain Tetû and his two
shipmates to the mercies of the Spaniards. They stood along the coast
together as far as the Isles of San Barnardo, where the French ship
parted company. The Spanish plate fleet, with its guard of galleons, was
riding at the entry to Cartagena, and the Frenchmen feared that by
coming too near they might be taken. They, therefore, saluted Drake with
guns and colours, and shaped their course for Hispaniola and home.
[Illustration: SHIP AND FLYING FISH]
But Drake held on in his way in a bravery, determined to see the Rio
Grande before returning home. He sailed past Cartagena almost within
gunshot, "in the sight of all the Fleet, with a flag of St George in the
main top of our frigate, with silk streamers and ancients down to the
water, sailing forward with a large wind." Late that night they arrived
off the mouth of the Rio Grande, where they shortened sail, "and lay off
and on." At midnight the wind veered round to the eastward, so that the
victuallers at anchor in the river were able to set sail for Cartagena.
About two o'clock in the morning a frigate slipped over the bar under
small sail, and ran past Drake towards the west. The English at once
opened fire upon her with their shot and arrows, to which the Spaniards
replied with their quick-firing guns. While the English gunners plied
her with missiles a pinnace laid her aboard, at which the Spaniards
leaped overboard and swam for the shore. The newly taken frigate
proved to be some seven or eight tons larger than the one in which the
English had come to the east. She was laden with maize, hens, and hogs,
and a large quantity of honey from the wild bees of Nueva Reyna. As soon
as the day dawned, the two frigates sailed away again to the Cabezas to
prepare for the voyage home.
The prize's cargo was discharged upon the beach. Both frigates were then
hove down, and the Spanish prisoners (taken some weeks before) were
allowed to depart aboard the _Pascha_. The barnacles were scrubbed and
burned off the frigates; their bends were resheathed and retallowed; the
provisions were stowed in good trim; water casks were filled; and all
things set in order for the voyage. The dainty pinnaces, which had done
them such good service, and carried them so many weary miles, were then
torn to pieces, and burned, "that the Cimaroons might have the
iron-work." Lastly, Drake asked Pedro and three Maroon chiefs to go
through both the frigates "to see what they liked." He wished them to
choose themselves some farewell gifts, and promised them that they
should have what they asked, unless it were essential to the safety of
the vessels. We are not told the choice of the three Maroon chiefs, but
we read that Pedro chose the "fair gilt scimitar," the gift of Captain
Tetû, which had once belonged to Henri II. of France. Drake had not
meant to part with it, but Pedro begged for it so prettily, through the
mouth of one Francis Tucker, that Drake gave it him "with many good
words," together with a quantity of silk and linen for the wives of
those who had marched with him. They then bade adieu to the delighted
Pedro and his fellows, for it was time to set sail for England. With a
salute of guns and colours, with the trumpets sounding, and the ships'
companies to give a cheer, the two little frigates slipped out of their
harbour, and stood away under all sail for Cape St Antonio. They took a
small barque laden with hides upon the way, but dismissed her as being
useless to them after they had robbed her of her pump. At Cape St
Antonio they salted and dried a number of turtles, as provisions for the
voyage. Then they took their departure cheerfully towards the north,
intending to call at Newfoundland to fill with water. The wind blew
steadily from the south and west to blow them home, so that this scheme
was abandoned. Abundant rain supplied their water casks, the wind held
steady, the sun shone, and the blue miles slipped away. "Within
twenty-three days" they passed "from the Cape of Florida to the Isles of
Scilly," the two Spanish frigates being admirable sailers. With the silk
streamers flying in a bravery the two ships sailed into Plymouth "on
Sunday, about sermon time, August the 9th, 1573." There they dropped
anchor to the thunder of the guns, to the great joy of all the
townsfolk. "The news of our Captain's return ... did so speedily pass
over all the church, and surpass their minds with desire and delight to
see him, that very few or none remained with the Preacher, all hastening
to see the evidence of God's love and blessing towards our Gracious
Queen and country, by the fruit of our Captain's labour and success.
_Soli Deo Gloria._"
We may take leave of him at this point, with the Plymouth bells ringing
him a welcome and the worshippers flocking down to see him land.
_Note._--"There were at the time," says the narrative, "belonging to
Cartagena, Nombre de Dios, Rio Grande, Santa Marta, Rio de la Hacha,
Venta Cruz, Veragua, Nicaragua, the Honduras, Jamaica, etc.; above
200 frigates; some of 120 tons, others but of 10 or 12 tons, but the
most of 30 or 40 tons, which all had intercourse between Cartagena
and Nombre de Dios. The most of which, during our abode in those
parts, we took; and some of them twice or thrice each."
Most of these frigates were provision ships, but in all of them, no
doubt, there was a certain amount of gold and silver, besides uncut
jewels or pearls from the King's Islands. We do not know the amount
of Drake's plunder, but with the spoil of all these frigates, added
to the loot of the recua, it must have been very considerable. He
may have made as much as £40,000, or more, or less. It is as well to
put the estimate low.
CHAPTER VII
JOHN OXENHAM
The voyage--His pinnace--Into the South Sea--Disaster--His unhappy
end
The John Oxenham, or Oxnam, who followed Drake to Nombre de Dios, and
stood with him that sunny day watching the blue Pacific from the
tree-top, was a Devonshire gentleman from South Tawton. He was of good
family and well to do. He may, perhaps, have given money towards the
fitting out of Drake's squadron. It is at least certain that he held in
that voyage a position of authority considerably greater than that of
"soldier, mariner, and cook"--the rates assigned to him by Sir Richard
Hawkins. On his return from the Nombre de Dios raid, he disappears, and
it is uncertain whether he followed Drake to Ireland, or settled down at
home in Devonshire. He did not forget the oath he had sworn to his old
Captain, to follow him to the South Sea in God's good time. But after
waiting a year or two, and finding that Drake was not ready to attempt
that adventure, he determined to go at his own charge, with such men as
he could find. He was well known in the little Devon seaports as a bold
sailor and fiery sea-captain. He was "a fine figure of a man," and the
glory of Drake's raid was partly his. He was looked upon as one of the
chief men in that foray. He had, therefore, little difficulty in getting
recruits for a new voyage to the Main.
In the year 1574 he set sail from Plymouth in a fine ship of 140 tons,
with a crew of seventy men and boys. He made a fair passage to the
Main, and anchored in Drake's old anchorage--either that of the secret
haven, in the Gulf of Darien, or that farther west, among the Catives.
Here he went ashore, and made friends with the Maroons, some of whom, no
doubt, were old acquaintances, still gay with beads or iron-work which
he had given them two years before. They told him that the treasure
trains "from Panama to Nombre de Dios" were now strongly guarded by
Spanish soldiers, so that he might not hope to win such a golden booty
as Drake had won, by holding up a recua on the march. Oxenham,
therefore, determined "to do that which never any man before
enterprised"--by leaving his ship, marching over the watershed, building
a pinnace in the woods, and going for a cruise on the South Sea. He
dragged his ship far into the haven, struck her topmasts, and left her
among the trees, beached on the mud, and covered with green boughs so as
to be hidden from view. Her great guns were swung ashore, and buried,
and the graves of them strewn with leaves and brushwood. He then armed
his men with their calivers and their sacks of victual, "and so went
with the Negroes," dragging with them two small guns, probably
quick-firing guns, mounted on staves of wood or iron. Hawkins says that
he left four or five men behind him as shipkeepers. After a march of
"about twelve leagues into the maine-land" the Maroons brought him to a
river "that goeth to the South Sea." Here the party halted, and built
themselves little huts of boughs to live in while they made themselves a
ship.
They cut down some trees here, and built themselves a pinnace "which was
five and fortie foot by the keele." They seem to have brought their
sails and tackling with them, but had they not done so they could have
made shift with the rough Indian cloth and the fibrous, easily twisted
bark of the maho-tree. Having built this little ship, they went aboard
of her, and dropped downstream to the Pacific--the first English crew,
but not the first Englishman, to sail those waters. Six negroes came
with them to act as guides. As soon as they had sailed out of the
river's mouth, they made for the Pearl Islands, or Islands of the King,
"which is five and twentie leagues from Panama." Here they lay very
close, in some snug inlet hidden from the sea. Some of them went inland
to a rocky cliff, to watch the seas for ships coming northward from Peru
with treasure from the gold and silver mines. The islands are in the
fairway between Panama and Lima, but ten days passed before the watchers
saw a sail, and cried out to those in the boat. "There came a small
Barke by, which came from Peru, from a place called Quito"; and the
pinnace dashed alongside of her, and carried her by the sword, before
her sailors learned what was the matter. She was laden with "sixtie
thousand pezos of golde, and much victuals." John Oxenham took her
lading, and kept the barque by him, while he stayed on at the islands.
At the end of six days, another "barke" came by, from Lima, "in whiche
he tooke an hundred thousand pezos of silver in barres." This was
plunder enough to "make" any voyage, and with this John Oxenham was
content. Before he sailed away, however, he marched upon one or two of
the Pearl fisheries, where he found a few pearls. He then sailed
northward to the river's mouth taking his prizes with him, with all the
prisoners.
At the river's mouth he very foolishly "sent away the two prizes that
hee tooke"--a piece of clemency which knotted the rope under his ear. He
then sailed up the river, helping his pinnace by poles, oars, and warps,
but making slow progress.
Before he reached this river, the negroes of the Pearl Islands sent word
to the Governor of Panama that English pirates had been in those seas
plundering their fisheries. "Within two days" the Governor despatched
four galleys, "with negroes to rowe," and twenty-five musketeers in each
galley, under the Captain John de Ortega, to search the Pearl Islands
very thoroughly for those robbers. They reached the islands, learned in
which direction the pirate ships had gone, and rowed away north to
overtake them. As they came near the land, they fell in with the two
prizes, the men of which were able to tell them how the pirates had gone
up the river but a few days before.
John de Ortega came to the river's mouth with his four galleys, and
"knew not which way to take, because there were three partitions in the
river, to goe up in." He decided at last to go up the greatest, and was
actually rowing towards it, when "he saw comming down a lesser river
many feathers of hennes, which the Englishmen had pulled to eate." These
drifting feathers, thrown overboard so carelessly, decided the Spanish
captain. He turned up the lesser river "where he saw the feathers," and
bade his negroes give way heartily. Four days later, he saw the English
pinnace drawn up on the river-bank "upon the sands," guarded by six of
her crew. The musketeers at once fired a volley, which killed one of the
Englishmen, and sent the other five scattering to the cover of the
woods. There was nothing in the pinnace but bread and meat. All the gold
pezoes and the bars of silver had been landed.
The presence of the boat guard warned the Spanish captain that the main
body of the pirates was near at hand. He determined to land eighty of
his musketeers to search those woods before returning home. "Hee had not
gone half a league" before he found one of the native huts, thatched
with palm leaves, in which were "all the Englishmen's goods and the gold
and silver also." The Englishmen were lying about the hut, many of them
unarmed, with no sentry keeping a lookout for them. Taken by surprise as
they were, they ran away into the woods, leaving all things in the hands
of the Spaniards. The Spaniards carried the treasure back to the
galleys, and rowed slowly down the river "without following the
Englishmen any further."
It appeared later, that Oxenham had ordered his men to carry the gold
and silver from the place where they had hauled the pinnace ashore, to
the place where the ship was hidden. To this the mariners joyfully
assented, "for hee promised to give them part of it besides their
wages." Unfortunately, they wished this "part of it" paid to them at
once, before they shifted an ingot--a want which seemed to reflect upon
John Oxenham's honour. He was naturally very angry "because they would
not take his word" to pay them something handsome when he reached home.
He was a choleric sea-captain, and began, very naturally, to damn them
for their insolence. "He fell out with them, and they with him," says
Hakluyt. One of them, stung by his Captain's curses, "would have killed
the Captaine" there and then, with his caliver,[2] or sailor's knife.
This last act was too much. Oxenham gave them a few final curses, and
told them that, if such were their temper, they should not so much as
touch a quoit of the treasure, but that he would get Maroons to carry
it. He then left them, and went alone into the forest to find Maroons
for the porterage. As he came back towards the camp, with a gang of
negroes, he met the five survivors of the boat guard "and the rest also
which ran from the house," all very penitent and sorry now that the
mischief had been done. They told him of the loss of the treasure, and
looked to him for guidance and advice, promising a better behaviour in
the future. Oxenham told them that if they helped him to recover the
treasure, they should have half of it, "if they got it from the
Spaniards." "The Negroes promised to help him with their bows and
arrows," and with this addition to their force they set off down the
river-bank in pursuit.
[Footnote 2: _Caliver_, a light, hand musket. A musket without a crutch,
or rest.]
After three days' travelling, they came upon the Spaniards, in camp, on
the bank of the river, apparently in some strong position, sheltered
with trees. Oxenham at once fell on "with great fury," exposing himself
and his men to the bullets of the musketeers. The Spaniards were used to
woodland fighting. Each musketeer retired behind a tree, and fired from
behind it, without showing more than his head and shoulders, and then
but for a moment. The Englishmen charged up the slope to the muzzles of
the guns, but were repulsed with loss, losing eleven men killed and five
men taken alive. The number of wounded is not stated. The negroes, who
were less active in the charge, lost only five men. The Spaniards loss
was two killed "and five sore hurt." The English were beaten off the
ground, and routed. They made no attempt to rally, and did not fall on a
second time.
The Spanish captain asked his prisoners why they had not crossed the
isthmus to their ship in the days before the pursuit began. To this the
prisoners answered with the tale of their mutinies, adding that their
Captain would not stay longer in those parts now that his company had
been routed. The Spaniards then buried their dead, retired on board
their galleys, and rowed home to Panama, taking with them their
prisoners and the English pinnace. When they arrived in that city, the
prisoners were tortured till they confessed where their ship was hidden.
Advice was then sent to Nombre de Dios, where four pinnaces were at once
equipped to seek out the secret haven. They soon found the ship, "and
brought her to Nombre de Dios," where her guns and buried stores were
divided among the King's ships employed in the work of the coast. While
this search for the ship was being made, the Viceroy of Peru sent out
150 musketeers to destroy the "fiftie English men" remaining alive.
These troops, conducted by Maroons, soon found the English in a camp by
the river, "making of certaine Canoas to goe into the North Sea, and
there to take some Bark or other." Many of them were sick and ill, "and
were taken." The rest escaped into the forest, where they tried to make
some arrangement with the negroes. The negroes, it seems, were angry
with Oxenham for his failure to keep his word to them. They had agreed
to help him on condition that they might have all the Spanish prisoners
to torture "to feed their insatiable revenges." Oxenham had released his
prisoners, as we have seen, and the Maroons had been disappointed of
their dish of roasted Spaniards' hearts. They were naturally very angry,
and told John Oxenham, when he came to them for help, that his
misfortunes were entirely due to his own folly. Had he kept his word,
they said, he would have reached his ship without suffering these
reverses. After a few days, being weary of keeping so many foreigners,
they betrayed the English sailors to the Spaniards. "They were brought
to Panama," to the justice of that city, who asked John Oxenham "whether
hee had the Queene's licence, or the licence of any other Prince or
Lord, for his attempt." To this John Oxenham answered that he had no
licence saving his sword. He was then condemned to death with the rest
of his company, with the exception of two (or five) ships' boys. After a
night or two in Panama prison, within sound of the surf of the Pacific,
the mariners were led out, and shot. Oxenham and the master and the
pilot were sent to Lima, where they were hanged as pirates in the
square of the city. A force of musketeers was then sent into the
interior, to reduce the Maroons "which had assisted those English men."
The punitive force "executed great justice," till "the Negroes grew wise
and wary," after which there was no more justice to be done. The ships'
boys, who were spared, were probably sold as slaves in Lima, or Panama.
They probably lived in those towns for the rest of their lives, and may
have become good Catholics, and wealthy, after due probation under the
whip.
Sir Richard Hawkins, who was in Panama in 1593, and who may have heard a
Spanish version of the history, tells us that aboard the treasure ship
taken by Oxenham were "two peeces of speciall estimation: the one a
table of massie gold, with emralds ... a present to the King; the other
a lady of singular beautie." According to Sir Richard, John Oxenham fell
in love with this lady, and it was through her prayers that he released
the other prisoners. He is said to have "kept the lady" when he turned
the other prisoners away. The lady's "sonne, or a nephew," who was among
those thus discharged, made every effort to redeem his mother (or aunt).
He prayed so vehemently and "with such diligence," to the Governor at
Panama, that the four galleys were granted to him "within few howers."
The story is not corroborated; but Oxenham was very human, and Spanish
beauty, like other beauty, is worth sinning for.
A year or two later, Captain Andrew Barker of Bristol, while cruising
off the Main, captured a Spanish frigate "between Chagre and Veragua."
On board of her, pointing through the port-holes, were four cast-iron
guns which had been aboard John Oxenham's ship. They were brought to
England, and left in the Scilly Islands, A.D. 1576.
_Note._--The story of John Oxenham is taken from "Purchas his
Pilgrimes," vol. iv. (the original large 4to edition); and from
Hakluyt, vol. iii. p. 526. Another version of the tale is given in
Sir R. Hawkins' "Observations." He is also mentioned in Hakluyt's
account of Andrew Barker.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SPANISH RULE IN HISPANIOLA
Rise of the buccaneers--The hunters of the wild
bulls--Tortuga--Buccaneer politics--Buccaneer customs
In 1492, when Columbus landed on Hayti, he found there about 1,000,000
Indians, of a gentle refinement of manners, living peaceably under their
kings or caciques. They were "faint-hearted creatures," "a barbarous
sort of people, totally given to sensuality and a brutish custom of
life, hating all manner of labour, and only inclined to run from place
to place." The Spaniards killed many thousands of them, hunted a number
with their bloodhounds, sent a number to work the gold-mines, and caused
about a third of the population to commit suicide or die of famine. They
discouraged sensuality and a distaste for work so zealously that within
twenty years they had reduced the population to less than a twentieth
part of its original 1,000,000 of souls. They then called the island
Hispaniola, and built a city, on the south coast, as the capital. This
city they called Nueva Ysabel, in honour of the Queen of Spain, but the
name was soon changed to that of St Domingo.[3]
[Footnote 3: See particularly Burney, Exquemeling, Edwards, and Hazard.]
Those Indians who were not enslaved, retired to the inmost parts of the
island, to the shelter of the thickest woods, where they maintained
themselves by hunting. The swine and cattle, which had belonged to their
fellows in their prosperous days, ran wild, and swarmed all over the
island in incredible numbers. The dogs of the caciques also took to the
woods, where they ranged in packs of two or three score, hunting the
wild swine and the calves. The Spaniards seem to have left the interior
of the island to the few survivors, as they had to
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