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.