THE BATTLE OF PERICO
Arica--The South Sea cruise
On 23rd April 1680, "that day being dedicated to St George, our Patron
of England," the canoas arrived off Panama. "We came," says Ringrose,
"before sunrise within view of the city of Panama, which makes a
pleasant show to the vessels that are at sea." They were within sight of
the old cathedral church, "the beautiful building whereof" made a
landmark for them, reminding one of the buccaneers "of St Paul's in
London," a church at that time little more than a ruin. The new city was
not quite finished, but the walls of it were built, and there were
several splendid churches, with scaffolding about them, rising high,
here and there, over the roofs of the houses. The townspeople were in a
state of panic at the news of the pirates' coming. Many of them had fled
into the savannahs; for it chanced that, at that time, many of the
troops in garrison, were up the country, at war with a tribe of Indians.
The best of the citizens, under Don Jacinto de Baronha, the admiral of
those seas, had manned the ships in the bay. Old Don Peralta, who had
saved the golden galleon ten years before, had 'listed a number of
negroes, and manned one or two barques with them. With the troops still
in barracks, and these volunteers and pressed men, they had manned, in
all "five great ships, and three pretty big barks." Their force may have
numbered 280 men. One account gives the number, definitely, as 228. The
buccaneer force has been variously stated, but it appears certain that
the canoas, and periaguas, which took part in the fight, contained only
sixty-eight of their company. Sharp, as we have seen, had gone with his
company to the Pearl Islands. The remaining 117 men were probably
becalmed, in their barques and canoas, some miles from the vanguard.
When the buccaneers caught sight of Panama, they were probably between
that city and the islands of Perico and Tobagilla. They were in great
disorder, and the men were utterly weary with the long night of rowing
in the rain, with the wind ahead. They were strung out over several
miles of sea, with five light canoas, containing six or seven men
apiece, a mile or two in advance. After these came two lumbering
periaguas, with sixteen men in each. King Golden Cap was in one of these
latter. Dampier and Wafer were probably not engaged in this action.
Ringrose was in the vanguard, in a small canoa.
A few minutes after they had sighted the roofs of Panama, they made out
the ships at anchor off the Isle of Perico. There were "five great ships
and three pretty big barks," manned, as we have said, by soldiers,
negroes, and citizens. The men aboard this fleet were in the rigging of
their ships, keeping a strict lookout. As they caught sight of the
pirates the three barques "instantly weighed anchor," and bore down to
engage, under all the sail they could crowd. The great ships had not
sufficient men to fight their guns. They remained at anchor; but their
crews went aboard the barques, so that the decks of the three men-of-war
must have been inconveniently crowded. The Spaniards were dead to
windwind of the pirates, so that they merely squared their yards, and
ran down the wind "designedly to show their valour." They had intended
to run down the canoas, and to sail over them, for their captains had
orders to give no quarter to the pirates, but to kill them, every man.
"Such bloody commands as these," adds Ringrose piously, "do seldom or
never prosper."
It was now a little after sunrise. The wind was light but steady; the
sea calm. As the Spaniards drew within range, the pirates rowed up into
the wind's eye, and got to windward of them. Their pistols and muskets
had not been wetted in the rain, for each buccaneer had provided himself
with an oiled cover for his firearms, the mouth of which he stopped with
wax whenever it rained. The Spanish ships ran past the three leading
canoas, exchanging volleys at long range. They were formed in line of
battle ahead, with a ship manned by mulattoes, or "Tawnymores," in the
van. This ship ran between the fourth canoa, in which Ringrose was, and
the fifth (to leeward of her) commanded by Sawkins. As she ran between
the boats she fired two thundering broadsides, one from each battery,
which wounded five buccaneers. "But he paid dear for his passage";
because the buccaneers gave her a volley which killed half her sail
trimmers, so that she was long in wearing round to repeat her fire. At
this moment the two periaguas came into action, and got to windward with
the rest of the pirates' fleet.
While Ringrose's company were ramming the bullets down their gun
muzzles, the Spanish admiral (in the second ship) engaged, "scarce
giving us time to charge." She was a fleet ship, and had a good way on
her, and her design was to pass between two canoas, and give to each a
roaring hot broadside. As she ran down, so near that the buccaneers
could look right into her, one of the pirates fired his musket at her
helmsman, and shot him through the heart as he steered. The ship at once
"broached-to," and lay with her sails flat aback, stopped dead. The five
canoas, and one of the periaguas, got under her stern, and so plied her
with shot that her decks were like shambles, running with blood and
brains, five minutes after she came to the wind. Meanwhile Richard
Sawkins ran his canoa--which was a mere sieve of cedar wood, owing to
the broadside--alongside the second periagua, and took her steering oar.
He ordered his men to give way heartily, for the third Spanish ship,
under old Don Peralta, was now bearing down to relieve the admiral.
Before she got near enough to blow the canoas out of water, Captain
Sawkins ran her on board, and so swept her decks with shot that she went
no farther. But "between him and Captain Sawkins, the dispute, or fight,
was very hot, lying board on board together, and both giving and
receiving death unto each other as fast as they could charge." Indeed,
the fight, at this juncture, was extremely fierce. The two Spanish ships
in action were surrounded with smoke and fire, the men "giving and
receiving death" most gallantly. The third ship, with her sail trimmers
dead, was to leeward, trying to get upon the other tack.
After a time her sailors got her round, and reached to windward, to help
the admiral, who was now being sorely battered. Ringrose, and Captain
Springer, a famous pirate, "stood off to meet him," in two canoas, as
"he made up directly towards the Admiral." Don Jacinto, they noticed, as
they shoved off from his flagship, was standing on his quarter-deck,
waving "with a handkerchief," to the captain of the Tawnymores' ship. He
was signalling him to scatter the canoas astern of the flagship. It was
a dangerous moment, and Ringrose plainly saw "how hard it would go with
us if we should be beaten from the Admiral's stern." With the two canoas
he ran down to engage, pouring in such fearful volleys of bullets that
they covered the Spaniard's decks with corpses and dying men. "We killed
so many of them, that the vessel had scarce men enough left alive, or
unwounded, to carry her off. Had he not given us the helm, and made
away from us, we had certainly been on board him." Her decks were
littered with corpses, and she was literally running blood. The wind was
now blowing fresh, and she contrived to put before it, and so ran out of
action, a terrible sight for the Panama women.
Having thus put the Tawnymores out of action, Ringrose and Springer
hauled to the wind, and "came about again upon the Admiral, and all
together gave a loud halloo." The cheer was answered by Sawkins' men,
from the periagua, as they fired into the frigate's ports. Ringrose ran
alongside the admiral, and crept "so close" under the vessel's stern,
"that we wedged up the rudder." The admiral was shot, and killed, a
moment later, as he brought aft a few musketeers to fire out of the
stern ports. The ship's pilot, or sailing master, was killed by the same
volley. As for the crew, the "stout Biscayners," "they were almost quite
disabled and disheartened likewise, seeing what a bloody massacre we had
made among them with our shot." Two-thirds of the crew were killed, "and
many others wounded." The survivors cried out for quarter, which had
been offered to them several times before, "and as stoutly denied until
then." Captain Coxon thereupon swarmed up her sides, with a gang of
pirates, helping up after him the valorous Peter Harris "who had been
shot through both his legs, as he boldly adventured up along the side of
the ship." The Biscayners were driven from their guns, disarmed, and
thrust down on to the ballast, under a guard. All the wounded pirates
were helped up to the deck and made comfortable. Then, in all haste, the
unhurt men manned two canoas, and rowed off to help Captain Sawkins,
"who now had been three times beaten from on board by Peralta."
A very obstinate and bloody fight had been raging round the third
man-of-war. Her sides were splintered with musket-balls. She was oozing
blood from her scuppers, yet "the old and stout Spaniard" in command,
was cheerily giving shot for shot. "Indeed, to give our enemies their
due, no men in the world did ever act more bravely than these
Spaniards."
Ringrose's canoa was the first to second Captain Sawkins. She ran close
in, "under Peralta's side," and poured in a blasting full volley through
her after gun-ports. A scrap of blazing wad fell among the red-clay
powder jars in the after magazine. Before she could fire a shot in
answer, she blew up abaft. Ringrose from the canoa "saw his men blown
up, that were abaft the mast, some of them falling on the deck, and
others into the sea." But even this disaster did not daunt old Peralta.
Like a gallant sea-captain, he slung a bowline round his waist, and went
over the side, burnt as he was, to pick up the men who had been blown
overboard. The pirates fired at him in the water, but the bullets missed
him. He regained his ship, and the fight went on. While the old man was
cheering the wounded to their guns, "another jar of powder took fire
forward," blowing the gun's crews which were on the fo'c's'le into the
sea. The forward half of the ship caught fire, and poured forth a volume
of black smoke, in the midst of which Richard Sawkins boarded, and "took
the ship." A few minutes later, Basil Ringrose went on board, to give
what aid he could to the hurt. "And indeed," he says, "such a miserable
sight I never saw in my life, for not one man there was found, but was
either killed, desperately wounded, or horribly burnt with powder,
insomuch that their black skins [the ship was manned with negroes] were
turned white in several places, the powder having torn it from their
flesh and bones." But if Peralta's ship was a charnel-house, the
admiral's flagship was a reeking slaughter-pen. Of her eighty-six
sailors, sixty-one had been killed. Of the remaining twenty-five, "only
eight were able to bear arms, all the rest being desperately wounded,
and by their wounds totally disabled to make any resistance, or defend
themselves. Their blood ran down the decks in whole streams, and scarce
one place in the ship was found that was free from blood." The loss on
the Tawnymores' ship was never known, but there had been such "bloody
massacre" aboard her, that two other barques, in Panama Roads, had been
too scared to join battle, though they had got under sail to engage.
According to Ringrose, the pirates lost eighteen men killed, and
twenty-two men wounded, several of them severely. Sharp, who was not in
the fight, gives the numbers as eleven killed, and thirty-four wounded.
The battle began "about half an hour after sunrise." The last of the
Spanish fire ceased a little before noon.
Having taken the men-of-war, Captain Sawkins asked his prisoners how
many men were aboard the galleons, in the Perico anchorage. Don Peralta,
who was on deck, "much burnt in both his hands," and "sadly scalded," at
once replied that "in the biggest alone there were three hundred and
fifty men," while the others were manned in proportion to their tonnage.
But one of his men "who lay a-dying upon the deck, contradicted him as
he was speaking, and told Captain Sawkins there was not one man on board
any of those ships that were in view." "This relation" was believed, "as
proceeding from a dying man," and a few moments later it was proved to
be true. The greatest of the galleons, "the Most Blessed _Trinity_,"
perhaps the very ship in which Peralta had saved the treasures of the
cathedral church, was found to be empty. Her lading of "wine, sugar, and
sweetmeats, skins and soap" (or hides and tallow) was still in the hold,
but the Spaniards had deserted her, after they had set her on fire,
"made a hole in her, and loosened [perhaps cut adrift] her foresail."
The pirates quenched the fire, stopped the leak, and placed their
wounded men aboard her, "and thus constituted her for the time being our
hospital." They lay at anchor, at Perico, for the rest of that day. On
the 24th of April they seem to have been joined by a large company of
those who had been to leeward at the time of the battle. Reinforced by
these, to the strength of nearly 200 men, they weighed their anchors,
set two of the prize galleons on fire with their freights of flour and
iron, and removed their fleet to the roads of Panama. They anchored near
the city, just out of heavy gunshot, in plain view of the citizens. They
could see the famous stone walls, which had cost so much gold that the
Spanish King, in his palace at Madrid, had asked his minister whether
they could be seen from the palace windows. They marked the stately,
great churches which were building. They saw the tower of St Anastasius
in the distance, white and stately, like a blossom above the greenwood.
They may even have seen the terrified people in the streets, following
the banners of the church, and the priests in their black robes, to
celebrate a solemn Mass and invocation. Very far away, in the green
savannahs, they saw the herds of cattle straying between the clumps of
trees.
Late that night, long after it was dark, Captain Bartholomew Sharp
joined company. He had been to Chepillo to look for them, and had found
their fire "not yet out," and a few dead Spaniards, whom the Indians had
killed, lying about the embers. He had been much concerned for the
safety of the expedition, and was therefore very pleased to find that
"through the Divine Assistance" the buccaneers had triumphed. At supper
that night he talked with Don Peralta, who told him of some comets, "two
strange Comets," which had perplexed the Quito merchants the year
before. There was "good Store of Wine" aboard the _Trinity_ galleon,
with which all hands "cheered up their Hearts for a While." Then, having
set sentinels, they turned in for the night.
The next day they buried Captain Peter Harris, "a brave and stout
Soldier, and a valiant Englishman, born in the county of Kent, whose
death [from gunshot wounds] we very much lamented." With him they buried
another buccaneer who had been hurt in the fight. The other wounded men
recovered. They would probably have landed to sack the town on this day,
had not a quarrel broken out between some of the company and Captain
Coxon. The question had been brought forward, whether the buccaneers
should go cruising in the South Sea, in their prizes, or return,
overland, to their ships at Golden Island. It was probably suggested, as
another alternative, that they should land to sack the town. All the
captains with one exception were for staying in the Pacific "to try
their Fortunes." Captain Coxon, however, was for returning to Golden
Island. He had been dissatisfied ever since the fight at Santa Maria. He
had not distinguished himself particularly in the fight off Perico, and
no doubt he felt jealous that the honours of that battle should have
been won by Sawkins. Sawkins' men taunted him with "backwardness" in
that engagement, and "stickled not to defame, or brand him with the note
of cowardice." To this he answered that he would be very glad to leave
that association, and that he would take one of the prizes, a ship of
fifty tons, and a periagua, to carry his men up the Santa Maria River.
Those who stayed, he added, might heal his wounded. That night he drew
off his company, with several other men, in all about seventy hands.
With them he carried "the best of our Doctors and Medicines," and the
hearty ill will of the other buccaneers. Old King Golden Cap accompanied
these deserters, leaving behind him his son and a nephew, desiring them
to be "not less vigorous" than he had been in harrying the Spanish.
Just before Coxon set sail, he asked Bartholomew Sharp to accompany him.
But that proven soul "could not hear of so dirty and inhuman an Action
without detestation." So Coxon sailed without ally, "which will not much
redound to his Honour," leaving all his wounded on the deck of the
captured galleon. The fleet, it may be added, had by this time returned
to the anchorage at Perico.
They lay there ten days in all, "debating what were best to be done." In
that time they took a frigate laden with fowls. They took the poultry
for their own use, and dismissed some of "the meanest of the prisoners"
in the empty ship. They then shifted their anchorage to the island of
Taboga, where there were a few houses, which some drunken pirates set on
fire. While they lay at this island the merchants of Panama came off to
them "and sold us what commodities we needed, buying also of us much of
the goods we had taken in their own vessels." The pirates also sold them
a number of negroes they had captured, receiving "two hundred pieces of
eight for each negro we could spare." "And here we took likewise several
barks that were laden with fowls." After Coxon's defection, Richard
Sawkins was re-elected admiral, and continued in that command till his
death some days later.
Before they left Taboga, Captain Sharp went cruising to an island some
miles distant to pick up some straggling drunkards who belonged to his
ship. While he lay at anchor, in a dead calm, waiting for a breeze to
blow, a great Spanish merchant ship hove in sight, bound from Lima (or
Truxillo) to Panama. Sharp ran his canoas alongside, and bade her dowse
her colours, at the same time sending a gang of pirates over her rail,
to throw the crew under hatches. "He had no Arms to defend himself with,
save only Rapiers," so her captain made no battle, but struck
incontinently. She proved to be a very splendid prize, for in her hold
were nearly 2000 jars of wine and brandy, 100 jars of good vinegar, and
a quantity of powder and shot, "which came very luckily." In addition to
these goods there were 51,000 pieces of eight, "247 pieces of eight a
man," a pile of silver sent to pay the Panama soldiery; and a store of
sweetmeats, such as Peru is still famous for. And there were "other
Things," says Sharp, "that were very grateful to our dis-satisfied
Minds." Some of the wine and brandy were sold to the Panama merchants a
few days later, "to the value of three thousand Pieces of Eight." A day
or two after this they snapped up two flour ships, from Paita. One of
these was a pretty ship of a fine model, of about 100 tons. Sharp fitted
her for himself, "for I liked her very well." The other flour ship was
taken very gallantly, under a furious gunfire from Panama Castle. The
buccaneers rowed in, with the cannon-balls flying over their heads. They
got close alongside "under her Guns," and then towed her out of
cannon-shot.
They continued several days at Taboga, waiting for a Lima treasure ship,
aboard which, the Spaniards told them, were £2500 in silver dollars.
While they waited for this ship the Governor at Panama wrote to ask them
why they had come into those seas. Captain Sawkins answered that they
had come to help King Golden Cap, the King of Darien, the true lord of
those lands, and that, since they had come so far, "there was no reason
but that they should have some satisfaction." If the Governor would send
them 500 pieces of eight for each man, and double that sum for each
captain, and, further, undertake "not any farther to annoy the Indians,"
why, then, the pirates would leave those seas, "and go away peaceably.
If the Governor would not agree to these terms, he might look to
suffer." A day or two later, Sawkins heard that the Bishop of Panama had
been Bishop at Santa Martha (a little city on the Main), some years
before, when he (Sawkins) helped to sack the place. He remembered the
cleric favourably, and sent him "two loaves of sugar," as a sort of
keepsake, or love-offering. "For a retaliation," the Bishop sent him a
gold ring; which was very Christian in the Bishop, who must have lost on
the exchange. The bearer of the gold ring, brought also an answer from
the Governor, who desired to know who had signed the pirates'
commissions. To this message Captain Sawkins sent back for answer: "That
as yet all his company were not come together, but that when they were
come up, we would come and visit him at Panama, and bring our
commissions on the muzzles of our guns, at which time he should read
them as plain as the flame of gunpowder could make them."
With this thrasonical challenge the pirates set sail for Otoque, another
of the islands in the bay; for Taboga, though it was "an exceeding
pleasant island," was by this time bare of meat. Before they left the
place a Frenchman deserted from them, and gave a detailed account of
their plans to the Spanish Governor. It blew very hard while they were
at sea, and two barques parted company in the storm. One of them drove
away to the eastward, and overtook John Coxon's company. The other was
taken by the Spaniards.
About the 20th or 21st of May, after several days of coasting, the ships
dropped anchor on the north coast of the island of Quibo. From here some
sixty men, under Captain Sawkins, set sail in Edmund Cook's ship, to
attack Pueblo Nuevo, the New Town, situated on the banks of a river. At
the river's mouth, which was broad, with sandy beaches, they embarked in
canoas, and rowed upstream, under the pilotage of a negro, from dark
till dawn. The French deserter had told the Spaniards of the intended
attack, so that the canoas found great difficulty in getting upstream.
Trees had been felled so as to fall across the river, and Indian spies
had been placed here and there along the river-bank to warn the townsmen
of the approach of the boats. A mile below the town the river had been
made impassable, so here the pirates went ashore to wait till daybreak.
When it grew light they marched forward, to attack the strong wooden
breastworks which the Spaniards had built. Captain Sawkins was in
advance, with about a dozen pirates. Captain Sharp followed at a little
distance with some thirty more. As soon as Sawkins saw the stockades he
fired his gun, and ran forward gallantly, to take the place by storm, in
the face of a fierce fire. "Being a man that nothing upon Earth could
terrifie" he actually reached the breastwork, and was shot dead there,
as he hacked at the pales. Two other pirates were killed at his side,
and five of the brave forlorn were badly hurt. "The remainder drew off,
still skirmishing," and contrived to reach the canoas "in pretty good
order," though they were followed by Spanish sharpshooters for some
distance. Sharp took command of the boats and brought them off safely to
the river's mouth, where they took a barque full of maize, before they
arrived at their ship.
Sawkins was "as valiant and courageous as any could be," "a valiant and
generous-spirited man, and beloved above any other we ever had among us,
which he well deserved." His death left the company without a captain,
and many of the buccaneers, who had truly loved Richard Sawkins, were
averse to serving under another commander. They were particularly averse
to serving under Sharp, who took the chief command from the moment of
Sawkins' death. At Quibo, where they lay at anchor, "their Mutiny" grew
very high, nor did they stick at mere mutiny. They clamoured for a
tarpaulin muster, or "full Councel," at which the question of "who
should be chief" might be put to the vote. At the council, Sharp was
elected "by a few hands," but many of the pirates refused to follow him
on the cruise. He swore, indeed, that he would take them such a voyage
as should bring them £1000 a man; but the oaths of Sharp were not good
security, and the mutiny was not abated. Many of the buccaneers would
have gone home with Coxon had it not been for Sawkins. These now
clamoured to go so vehemently that Sharp was constrained to give them a
ship with as much provision "as would serve for treble the number." The
mutineers who left on this occasion were in number sixty-three. Twelve
Indians, the last who remained among the pirates, went with them, to
guide them over the isthmus. 146 men remained with Sharp. It is probable
that many of these would have returned at this time, had it not been
that "the Rains were now already up, and it would be hard passing so
many Gullies, which of necessity would then be full of water." Ringrose,
Wafer and Dampier remained among the faithful, but rather on this
account, than for any love they bore their leader. The mutineers had
hardly set sail, before Captain Cook came "a-Board" Sharp's flagship,
finding "himselfe a-grieved." His company had kicked him out of his
ship, swearing that they would not sail with such a one, so that he had
determined "to rule over such unruly folk no longer." Sharp gave his
command to a pirate named Cox, a New Englander, "who forced kindred, as
was thought, upon Captain Sharp, out of old acquaintance, in this
conjuncture of time, only to advance himself." Cox took with him Don
Peralta, the stout old Andalusian, for the pirates were plying the
captain "of the Money-Ship we took," to induce him to pilot them to
Guayaquil "where we might lay down our Silver, and lade our vessels with
Gold." They feared that an honest man, such as Peralta, "would hinder
the endeavours" of this Captain Juan, and corrupt his kindly
disposition.
With these mutinies, quarrels, intrigues, and cabals did the buccaneers
beguile their time. They stayed at Quibo until 6th June, filling their
water casks, quarrelling, cutting wood, and eating turtle and red deer.
They also ate huge oysters, so large "that we were forced to cut them
into four pieces, each quarter being a large mouthful."
On the 6th of June they set sail for the isle of Gorgona, off what is
now Columbia, where they careened the _Trinity_, and took "down our
Round House Coach and all the high carved work belonging to the stern of
the ship; for when we took her from the Spaniards she was high as any
Third Rate Ship in England." While they were at work upon her, Sharp
changed his design of going for Guayaquil, as one of their prisoners, an
old Moor, "who had long time sailed among the Spaniards," told him that
there was gold at Arica, in such plenty that they would get there "£2000
a man." He did not hurry to leave his careenage, though he must have
known that each day he stayed there lessened his chance of booty. It was
nearly August when he left Gorgona, and "from this Time forward to the
17th of October there was Nothing occurr'd but bare Sailing." Now and
then they ran short of water, or of food. One or two of their men died
of fever, or of rum, or of sunstroke. Two or three were killed in
capturing a small Spanish ship. The only other events recorded, are the
falls of rain, the direction of the wind, the sight of "watersnakes of
divers colours," and the joyful meeting with Captain Cox, whom they had
lost sight of, while close in shore one evening. They called at "Sir
Francis Drake's isle" to strike a few tortoises, and to shoot some
goats. Captain Sharp we read, here "showed himself very ingenious" in
spearing turtle, "he performing it as well as the tortoise strikers
themselves."
It was very hot at this little island. Many years before Drake had gone
ashore there to make a dividend, and had emptied bowls of gold coins
into the hats of his men, after the capture of the _Cacafuego_. Some of
the pirates sounded the little anchorage with a greasy lead, in the
hopes of bringing up the golden pieces which Drake had been unable to
carry home, and had hove into the sea there. They got no gold, but the
sun shone "so hot that it burnt the skin off the necks of our men," as
they craned over the rail at their fishery.
At the end of October they landed at the town of Hilo to fill fresh
water. They took the town, and sacked its sugar refineries, which they
burnt. They pillaged its pleasant orange groves, and carried away many
sacks of limes and green figs "with many other fruits agreeable to the
palate." Fruit, sugar, and excellent olive oil were the goods which Hilo
yielded. They tried to force the Spaniards to bring them beef, but as
the beef did not come, they wrecked the oil and sugar works, and set
them blazing, and so marched down to their ships, skirmishing with the
Spanish horse as they fell back. Among the spoil was the carcass of a
mule (which made "a very good meal"), and a box of chocolate "so that
now we had each morning a dish of that pleasant liquor," such as the
grand English ladies drank.
The next town attacked was La Serena, a town five miles from the present
Coquimbo. They took the town, and found a little silver, but the
citizens had had time to hide their gold. The pirates made a great feast
of strawberries "as big as walnuts," in the "orchards of fruit" at this
place, so that one of their company wrote that "'tis very delightful
Living here." They could not get a ransom for the town, so they set it
on fire. The Spaniards, in revenge, sent out an Indian, on an inflated
horse hide, to the pirates' ship the _Trinity_. This Indian thrust some
oakum and brimstone between the rudder and the sternpost, and "fired it
with a match." The sternpost caught fire and sent up a prodigious black
smoke, which warned the pirates that their ship was ablaze. They did not
discover the trick for a few minutes, but by good fortune they found it
out in time to save the vessel. They landed their prisoners shortly
after the fire had been quenched "because we feared lest by the example
of this stratagem they should plot our destruction in earnest." Old Don
Peralta, who had lately been "very frantic," "through too much hardship
and melancholy," was there set on shore, after his long captivity. Don
Juan, the captain of the "Money-Ship," was landed with him. Perhaps the
two fought together, on the point of honour, as soon as they had
returned to swords and civilisation.
From Coquimbo the pirates sailed for Juan Fernandez. On the way thither
they buried William Cammock, one of their men, who had drunk too hard at
La Serena "which produced in him a calenture or malignant fever, and a
hiccough." "In the evening when the pale Magellan Clouds were showing we
buried him in the sea, according to the usual custom of mariners, giving
him three French vollies for his funeral."
On Christmas Day they were beating up to moorings, with boats ahead,
sounding out a channel for the ship. They did not neglect to keep the
day holy, for "we gave in the morning early three vollies of shot for
solemnization of that great festival." At dusk they anchored "in a
stately bay that we found there," a bay of intensely blue water, through
which the whiskered seals swam. The pirates filled fresh water, and
killed a number of goats, with which the island swarmed. They also
captured many goats alive, and tethered them about the decks of the
_Trinity_, to the annoyance of all hands, a day or two later, when some
flurries of wind drove them to sea, to search out a new anchorage.
Shortly after New Year's Day 1681, "our unhappy Divisions, which had
been long on Foot, began now to come to an Head to some Purpose." The
men had been working at the caulking of their ship, with design to take
her through the Straits of Magellan, and so home to the Indies. Many of
the men wished to cruise the South Seas a little longer, while nearly
all were averse to plying caulking irons, under a burning sun, for
several hours a day. There was also a good deal of bitterness against
Captain Sharp, who had made but a poor successor to brave Richard
Sawkins. He had brought them none of the gold and silver he had promised
them, and few of the men were "satisfied, either with his Courage or
Behaviour." On the 6th January a gang of pirates "got privately ashoar
together," and held a fo'c's'le council under the greenwood. They "held
a Consult," says Sharp, "about turning me presently out, and put another
in my Room." John Cox, the "true-hearted dissembling New-England Man,"
whom Sharp "meerly for old Acquaintance-sake" had promoted to be
captain, was "the Main Promoter of their Design." When the consult was
over, the pirates came on board, clapped Mr Sharp in irons, put him down
on the ballast, and voted an old pirate named John Watling, "a stout
seaman," to be captain in his stead. One buccaneer says that "the true
occasion of the grudge against Sharp was, that he had got by these
adventures almost a thousand pounds, whereas many of our men were not
worth a groat," having "lost all their money to their fellow Buccaneers
at dice."
Captain Edmund Cook, who had been turned out of his ship by his men, was
this day put in irons on the confession of a shameless servant. The
curious will find the details of the case on page 121, of the 1684
edition of Ringrose's journal.
John Watling began his captaincy in very godly sort, by ordering his
disciples to keep holy the Sabbath day. Sunday, "January the ninth, was
the first Sunday that ever we kept by command and common consent, since
the loss and death of our valiant Commander Captain Sawkins." Sawkins
had been strict in religious matters, and had once thrown the ship's
dice overboard "finding them in use on the said day." Since Sawkins'
death the company had grown notoriously lax, but it is pleasant to
notice how soon they returned to their natural piety, under a godly
leader. With Edmund Cook down on the ballast in irons, and William Cook
talking of salvation in the galley, and old John Watling expounding the
Gospel in the cabin, the galleon, "the Most Holy _Trinity_" must have
seemed a foretaste of the New Jerusalem. The fiddler ceased such
"prophane strophes" as "Abel Brown," "The Red-haired Man's Wife," and
"Valentinian." He tuned his devout strings to songs of Zion. Nay the
very boatswain could not pipe the cutter up but to a phrase of the
Psalms.
In this blessed state they washed their clothes in the brooks, hunted
goats across the island, and burnt and tallowed their ship the
_Trinity_. But on the 12th of January, one of their boats, which had
been along the coast with some hunters, came rowing furiously into the
harbour, "firing of Guns." They had espied three Spanish men-of-war some
three or four miles to leeward, beating up to the island under a press
of sail. The pirates were in great confusion, for most of them were
ashore, "washing their clothes," or felling timber. Those on board, hove
up one of their anchors, fired guns to call the rest aboard, hoisted
their boats in, and slipped their second cable. They then stood to sea,
hauling as close to the wind as she would lie. One of the Mosquito
Indians, "one William," was left behind on the island, "at this sudden
departure," and remained hidden there, living on fish and fruit, for
many weary days. He was not the first man to be marooned there; nor was
he to be the last.
The three Spanish men-of-war were ships of good size, mounting some
thirty guns among them. As the pirate ship beat out of the harbour,
sheeting home her topgallant-sails, they "put out their bloody flags,"
which the pirates imitated, "to shew them that we were not as yet
daunted." They kept too close together for the pirates to run them
aboard, but towards sunset their flagship had drawn ahead of the
squadron. The pirates at once tacked about so as to engage her,
intending to sweep her decks with bullets, and carry her by boarding.
John Watling was not very willing to come to handystrokes, nor were the
Spaniards anxious to give him the opportunity. No guns were fired, for
the Spanish admiral wore ship, and so sailed away to the island, when he
brought his squadron to anchor. The pirates called a council, and
decided to give them the slip, having "outbraved them," and done as much
as honour called for. They were not very pleased with John Watling, and
many were clamouring for the cruise to end. It was decided that they
should not attack the Spanish ships, but go off for the Main, to sack
the town of Arica, where there was gold enough, so they had heard, to
buy them each "a coach and horses." They therefore hauled to the wind
again, and stood to the east, in very angry and mutinous spirit, until
the 26th of January.
On that day they landed at Yqueque, a mud-flat, or guano island, off a
line of yellow sand-hills. They found a few Indian huts there, with
scaffolds for the drying of fish, and many split and rotting mackerel
waiting to be carried inland. There was a dirty stone chapel in the
place, "stuck full of hides and sealskins." There was a great surf,
green and mighty, bursting about the island with a continual roaring.
There were pelicans fishing there, and a few Indians curing fish, and an
abominable smell, and a boat, with a cask in her bows, which brought
fresh water thither from thirty miles to the north. The teeth of the
Indians were dyed a bright green by their chewing of the coca leaf, the
drug which made their "beast-like" lives endurable. There was a silver
mine on the mainland, near this fishing village, but the pirates did not
land to plunder it. They merely took a few old Indian men, and some
Spaniards, and carried them aboard the _Trinity_, where the godly John
Watling examined them.
The next day the examination continued; and the answers of one of the
old men, "a Mestizo Indian," were judged to be false. "Finding him in
many lies, as we thought, concerning Arica, our commander ordered him to
be shot to death, which was accordingly done." This cold-blooded murder
was committed much against the will of Captain Sharp, who "opposed it as
much as he could." Indeed, when he found that his protests were useless,
he took a basin of water (of which the ship was in sore need) and washed
his hands, like a modern Pilate. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am clear of
the blood of this old man; and I will warrant you a hot day for this
piece of cruelty, whenever we come to fight at Arica." This proved to be
"a true and certain prophesy." Sharp was an astrologer, and a believer
in portents; but he does not tell us whether he had "erected any
Figure," to discover what was to chance in the Arica raid.
* * * * *
Arica, the most northern port in Chile, has still a considerable
importance. It is a pleasant town, fairly well watered, and therefore
more green and cheerful than the nitrate ports. It is built at the foot
of a hill (a famous battlefield) called the Morro. Low, yellow
sand-hills ring it in, shutting it from the vast blue crags of the
Andes, which rise up, splintered and snowy, to the east. The air there
is of an intense clearness, and those who live there can see the Tacna
churches, forty miles away. It is no longer the port it was, but it does
a fair trade in salt and sulphur, and supplies the nitrate towns with
fruit. When the pirates landed there it was a rich and prosperous city.
It had a strong fort, mounting twelve brass guns, defended by four
companies of troops from Lima. The city had a town guard of 300
soldiers. There was also an arsenal full of firearms for the use of
householders in the event of an attack. It was not exactly a walled
town, like new Panama, but a light wooden palisade ran round it, while
other palisades crossed each street. These defences had been thrown up
when news had arrived of the pirates being in those seas. All the
"plate, gold and jewels" of the townsfolk had been carefully hidden, and
the place was in such a state of military vigilance and readiness that
the pirates had no possible chance of taking it, or at least of holding
it. When the pirates came upon it there were several ships in the bay,
laden with commodities from the south of Chile.
[Illustration: _A description of_ Arica]
On the 28th of January, John Watling picked 100 men, and put off for the
shore in boats and canoas, to attack the town. By the next day they had
got close in shore, under the rocks by the San Vitor River's mouth.
There they lay concealed till the night. At dawn of the 30th January
1681, "the Martyrdom of our glorious King Charles the First," they were
dipping off some rocks four miles to the south of Arica. Here ninety-two
of the buccaneers landed, leaving a small boat guard, with strict
instructions how to act. They were told that if the main body "made
one smoke from the town," as by firing a heap of powder, one canoa was
to put in to Arica; but that, if two smokes were fired, all the boats
were to put in at once. Basil Ringrose was one of those who landed to
take part in the fight. Dampier, it is almost certain, remained on board
the _Trinity_, becalmed some miles from the shore. Wafer was in the
canoas, with the boat guard, preparing salves for those wounded in the
fight. The day seems to have been hot and sunny--it could scarcely have
been otherwise--but those out at sea, on the galleon, could see the
streamers of cloud wreathing about the Andes.
At sunrise the buccaneers got ashore, amongst the rocks, and scrambled
up a hill which gave them a sight of the city. From the summit they
could look right down upon the streets, little more than a mile from
them. It was too early for folk to be stirring, and the streets were
deserted, save for the yellow pariahs, and one or two carrion birds. It
was so still, in that little town, that the pirates thought they would
surprise the place, as Drake had surprised Nombre de Dios. But while
they were marching downhill, they saw three horsemen watching them from
a lookout place, and presently the horsemen galloped off to raise the
inhabitants. As they galloped away, John Watling chose out forty of the
ninety-two, to attack the fort or castle which defended the city. This
band of forty, among whom were Sharp and Ringrose, carried ten
hand-grenades, in addition to their pistols and guns. The fort was on a
hill above the town, and thither the storming party marched, while
Watling's company pressed on into the streets. The action began a few
minutes later with the guns of the fort firing on the storming party.
Down in the town, almost at the same moment, the musketry opened in a
long roaring roll which never slackened. Ringrose's party waited for no
further signal, but at once engaged, running in under the guns and
hurling their firepots through the embrasures. The grenades were damp,
or badly filled, or had been too long charged. They did not burst or
burn as they should have done, while the garrison inside the fort kept
up so hot a fire, at close range, that nothing could be done there. The
storming party fell back, without loss, and rallied for a fresh attack.
They noticed then that Watling's men were getting no farther towards the
town. They were halted in line, with their knees on the ground, firing
on the breastworks, and receiving a terrible fire from the Spaniards.
Five of the fifty-two men were down (three of them killed) and the case
was growing serious. The storming party left the fort, and doubled
downhill into the firing line, where they poured in volley after
blasting volley, killing a Spaniard at each shot, making "a very
desperate battle" of it, "our rage increasing with our wounds." No
troops could stand such file-firing. The battle became "mere bloody
massacre," and the Spaniards were beaten from their posts. Volley after
volley shook them, for the pirates "filled every street in the city with
dead bodies"; and at last ran in upon them, and clubbed them and cut
them down, and penned them in as prisoners. But as the Spaniards under
arms were at least twenty times as many as the pirates, there was no
taking the city from them. They were beaten from post to post fighting
like devils, but the pirates no sooner left a post they had taken, "than
they came another way, and manned it again, with new forces and fresh
men." The streets were heaped with corpses, yet the Spaniards came on,
and came on again, till the sand of the roads was like red mud. At last
they were fairly beaten from the chief parts of the town, and numbers of
them were penned up as prisoners; more, in fact, than the pirates could
guard. The battle paused for a while at this stage, and the pirates took
advantage of the lull to get their wounded (perhaps a dozen men), into
one of the churches to have their wounds dressed. As the doctors of the
party began their work, John Watling sent a message to the fort,
charging the garrison to surrender. The soldiers returned no answer, but
continued to load their guns, being helped by the armed townsfolk, who
now flocked to them in scores. The fort was full of musketeers when the
pirates made their second attack a little after noon.
At the second attack, John Watling took 100 of his prisoners, placed
them in front of his storming party, and forced them forward, as a
screen to his men, when he made his charge. The garrison shot down
friend and foe indiscriminately, and repulsed the attack, and repulsed a
second attack which followed a few minutes later. There was no taking
the fort by storm, and the pirates had no great guns with which to
batter it. They found, however, that one of the flat-roofed houses in
the town, near the fort's outworks, commanded the interior. "We got upon
the top of the house," says Ringrose, "and from there fired down into
the fort, killing many of their men and wounding them at our ease and
pleasure." While they were doing this, a number of the Lima soldiers
joined the citizens, and fell, with great fury, upon the prisoners'
guards in the town. They easily beat back the few guards, and retook the
city. As soon as they had taken the town, they came swarming out to cut
off the pirates from their retreat, and to hem them in between the fort
and the sea. They were in such numbers that they were able to surround
the pirates, who now began to lose men at every volley, and to look
about them a little anxiously as they bit their cartridges. From every
street in the town came Spanish musketeers at the double, swarm after
swarm of them, perhaps a couple of thousand. The pirates left the fort,
and turned to the main army, at the same time edging away towards the
south, to the hospital, or church, where their wounded men were being
dressed. As they moved away from the battlefield, firing as they
retreated, old John Watling was shot in the liver with a bullet, and
fell dead there, to go buccaneering no more. A moment later "both our
quartermasters" fell, with half-a-dozen others, including the boatswain.
All this time the cannon of the fort were pounding over them, and the
round-shot were striking the ground all about, flinging the sand into
their faces. What with the dust and the heat and the trouble of helping
the many hurt, their condition was desperate. "So that now the enemy
rallying against us, and beating us from place to place, we were in a
very distracted condition, and in more likelihood to perish every man
than escape the bloodiness of that day. Now we found the words of
Captain Sharp to bear a true prophecy, being all very sensible that we
had had a day too hot for us, after that cruel heat in killing and
murdering in cold blood the old Mestizo Indian whom we had taken
prisoner at Yqueque." In fact they were beaten and broken, and the fear
of death was on them, and the Spaniards were ringing them round, and the
firing was roaring from every point. They were a bloody, dusty, choking
gang of desperates, "in great disorder," black with powder, their
tongues hanging out with thirst. As they stood grouped together, cursing
and firing, some of them asked Captain Sharp to take command, and get
them out of that, seeing that Watling was dead, and no one there could
give an order. To this request Sharp at last consented, and a retreat
was begun, under cover of a fighting rear-guard, "and I hope," says
Sharp, "it will not be esteemed a Vanity in me to say, that I was mighty
Helpful to facilitate this Retreat." In the midst of a fearful racket
of musketry, he fought the pirates through the soldiers to the church
where the wounded lay. There was no time, nor was there any conveyance,
for the wounded, and they were left lying there, all desperately hurt.
The two surgeons could have been saved "but that they had been drinking
while we assaulted the fort, and thus would not come with us when they
were called." There was no time for a second call, for the Spaniards
were closing in on them, and the firing was as fierce as ever. The men
were so faint with hunger and thirst, the heat of battle, and the long
day's marching, that Sharp feared he would never get them to the boats.
A fierce rush of Spaniards beat them away from the hospital, and drove
them out of the town "into the Savannas or open fields." The Spaniards
gave a cheer and charged in to end the battle, but the pirates were a
dogged lot, and not yet at the end of their strength. They got into a
clump or cluster, with a few wounded men in the centre, to load the
muskets, "resolving to die one by another" rather than to run. They
stood firm, cursing and damning the Spaniards, telling them to come on,
and calling them a lot of cowards. There were not fifty buccaneers fit
to carry a musket, but the forty odd, unhurt men stood steadily, and
poured in such withering volleys of shot, with such terrible precision,
that the Spanish charge went to pieces. As the charge broke, the pirates
plied them again, and made a "bloody massacre" of them, so that they ran
to shelter like so many frightened rabbits. The forty-seven had beaten
off twenty or thirty times their number, and had won themselves a
passage home.
There was no question of trying to retake the town. The men were in such
misery that the march back to the boats taxed their strength to the
breaking point. They set off over the savannah, in as good order as they
could, with a wounded man, or two, in every rank of them. As they set
forward, a company of horsemen rode out, and got upon their flanks "and
fired at us all the way, though they would not come within reach of our
guns; for their own reached farther than ours, and out-shot us more than
one third." There was great danger of these horsemen cutting in, and
destroying them, on the long open rolls of savannah, so Sharp gave the
word, and the force shogged westward to the seashore, along which they
trudged to the boats. The beach to the south of Arica runs along the
coast, in a narrow strip, under cliffs and rocky ground, for several
miles. The sand is strewn with boulders, so that the horsemen, though
they followed the pirates, could make no concerted charge upon them.
Some of them rode ahead of them and got above them on the cliff tops,
from which they rolled down "great stones and whole rocks to destroy
us." None of these stones did any harm to the pirates, for the cliffs
were so rough and broken that the skipping boulders always flew wide of
the mark. But though the pirates "escaped their malice for that time,"
they were yet to run a terrible danger before getting clear away to sea.
The Spaniards had been examining, or torturing, the wounded pirates, and
the two drunken surgeons, left behind in the town. "These gave them our
signs that we had left to our boats [_i.e._ revealed the signals by
which the boats were to be called] so that they immediately blew up two
smokes, which were perceived by the canoas." Had the pirates "not come
at the instant" to the seaside, within hail of the boats, they would
have been gone. Indeed they were already under sail, and beating slowly
up to the northward, in answer to the signal. Thus, by a lucky chance,
the whole company escaped destruction. They lost no time in putting from
the shore, where they had met with "so very bad Entertainment." They
"got on board about ten a Clock at night; having been involved in a
continual and bloody fight ... all that day long." Of the ninety-two,
who had landed that morning, twenty-eight had been left ashore, either
dead, or as prisoners. Of the sixty-four who got to the canoas, eighteen
were desperately wounded, and barely able to walk. Most of the others
were slightly hurt, while all were too weary to do anything, save sleep
or drink. Of the men left behind in the hospital the Spaniards spared
the doctors only; "they being able to do them good service in that
country." "But as to the wounded men," says Ringrose, "they were all
knocked on the head," and so ended their roving, and came to port where
drunken doctors could torture them no longer. The Ylo men denied this;
and said that the seven pirates who did not die of their wounds were
kept as slaves. The Spanish loss is not known, but it was certainly
terrible. The Hilo, or Ylo people, some weeks later, said that seventy
Spaniards had been killed and about 200 wounded.
All the next day the pirates "plied to and fro in sight of the port,"
hoping that the Spaniards would man the ships in the bay, and come out
to fight. They reinstated Sharp in his command, for they had now
"recollected a better Temper," though none of them, it seems, wished for
any longer stay in the South Sea. The Arica fight had sickened them of
the South Sea, while several of them (including Ringrose) became very
ill from the exposure and toil of the battle. They beat to windward,
cruising, when they found that the Spaniards would not put to sea to
fight them. They met with dirty weather when they had reached the
thirtieth parallel, and the foul weather, and their bad fortune made
them resolve to leave those seas. At a fo'c's'le council held on the 3rd
of March, they determined to put the helm up, and to return to the North
Sea. They were short of water and short of food, "having only one cake
of bread a day," or perhaps half-a-pound of "doughboy," for their
"whack" or allowance. After a few days' running before the wind they
came to "the port of Guasco," now Huasco, between Coquimbo and Caldera,
a little town of sixty or eighty houses, with copper smeltries, a
church, a river, and some sheep-runs. Sixty of the buccaneers went
ashore here, that same evening, to get provisions, "and anything else
that we could purchase." They passed the night in the church, or "in a
churchyard," and in the morning took "120 sheep and fourscore goats,"
about 200 bushels of corn "ready ground," some fowls, a fat hog, any
quantity of fruit, peas, beans, etc., and a small stock of wine. These
goods they conveyed aboard as being "fit for our Turn." The inhabitants
had removed their gold and silver while the ship came to her anchor, "so
that our booty here, besides provisions, was inconsiderable." They found
the fat hog "very like our English pork," thereby illustrating the
futility of travel; and so sailed away again "to seek greater matters."
Before they left, they contrived to fill their water jars in the river,
a piece of work which they found troublesome, owing to the height of the
banks.
[Illustration: _A Description of_ Hilo]
From Huasco, where the famous white raisins grow, they sailed to Ylo,
where they heard of their mates at Arica, and secured some wine, figs,
sugar, and molasses, and some "fruits just ripe and fit for eating,"
including "extraordinary good Oranges of the China sort" They then
coasted slowly northward, till by Saturday, 16th April, they arrived off
the island of Plate. Here their old bickerings broke out again, for many
of the pirates were disgusted with Sharp, and eager to go home. Many of
the others had recovered their spirits since the affair at Arica, and
wished to stay in the South Seas, to cruise a little longer. Those who
had fought at Arica would not allow Sharp to be deposed a second
time, while those who had been shipkeepers on that occasion, were angry
that he should have been re-elected. The two parties refused to be
reconciled. They quarrelled angrily whenever they came on deck together,
and the party spirit ran so high that the company of shipkeepers, the
anti-Sharp faction, "the abler and more experienced men," at last
refused to cruise any longer under Sharp's command. The fo'c's'le
council decided that a poll should be taken, and "that which party
soever, upon polling, should be found to have the majority, should keep
the ship." The other party was to take the long boat and the canoas. The
division was made, and "Captain Sharp's Party carried it." The night was
spent in preparing the long boat and the canoas, and the next morning
the boats set sail.