proved, most eventful voyage. I mentioned that he was joined by a young
relation, of whom I must say a few preliminary words. Francis Drake was
a Devonshire man, like Hawkins himself and Raleigh and Davis and
Gilbert, and many other famous men of those days. He was born at
Tavistock somewhere about 1540. He told Camden that he was of mean
extraction. He meant merely that he was proud of his parents and made no
idle pretensions to noble birth. His father was a tenant of the Earl of
Bedford, and must have stood well with him, for Francis Russell, the
heir of the earldom, was the boy's godfather. From him Drake took his
Christian name. The Drakes were early converts to Protestantism.
Trouble rising at Tavistock on the Six Articles Bill, they removed to
Kent, where the father, probably through Lord Bedford's influence, was
appointed a lay chaplain in Henry VIII.'s fleet at Chatham. In the next
reign, when the Protestants were uppermost, he was ordained and became
vicar of Upnor on the Medway. Young Francis took early to the water, and
made acquaintance with a ship-master trading to the Channel ports, who
took him on board his ship and bred him as a sailor. The boy
distinguished himself, and his patron when he died left Drake his vessel
in his will. For several years Drake stuck steadily to his coasting
work, made money, and made a solid reputation. His ambition grew with
his success. The seagoing English were all full of Hawkins and his West
Indian exploits. The Hawkinses and the Drakes were near relations.
Hearing that there was to be another expedition, and having obtained his
cousin's consent, Francis Drake sold his brig, bought the _Judith_, a
handier and faster vessel, and with a few stout sailors from the river
went down to Plymouth and joined.
De Silva had sent word to Philip that Hawkins was again going out, and
preparations had been made to receive him. Suspecting nothing, Hawkins
with his four consorts sailed, as before, in October 1567. The start was
ominous. He was caught and badly knocked about by an equinoctial in the
Bay of Biscay. He lost his boats. The _Jesus_ strained her timbers and
leaked, and he so little liked the look of things that he even thought
of turning back and giving up the expedition for the season. However,
the weather mended. They put themselves to rights at the Canaries,
picked up their spirits, and proceeded. The slave-catching was managed
successfully, though with some increased difficulty. The cargo with
equal success was disposed of at the Spanish settlements. At one place
the planters came off in their boats at night to buy. At Rio de la
Hacha, where the most imperative orders had been sent to forbid his
admittance, Hawkins landed a force as before and took possession of the
town, of course with the connivance of the settlers. At Carthagena he
was similarly ordered off, and as Carthagena was strongly fortified he
did not venture to meddle with it. But elsewhere he found ample markets
for his wares. He sold all his blacks. By this and by other dealings he
had collected what is described as a vast treasure of gold, silver, and
jewels. The hurricane season was approaching, and he made the best of
his way homewards with his spoils, in the fear of being overtaken by it.
Unluckily for him, he had lingered too long. He had passed the west
point of Cuba and was working up the back of the island when a hurricane
came down on him. The gale lasted four days. The ships' bottoms were
foul and they could make no way. Spars were lost and rigging carried
away. The _Jesus_, which had not been seaworthy all along, leaked worse
than ever and lost her rudder. Hawkins looked for some port in Florida,
but found the coast shallow and dangerous, and was at last obliged to
run for San Juan de Ulloa, at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.
San Juan de Ulloa is a few miles only from Vera Cruz. It was at that
time the chief port of Mexico, through which all the traffic passed
between the colony and the mother-country, and was thus a place of some
consequence. It stands on a small bay facing towards the north. Across
the mouth of this bay lies a narrow ridge of sand and shingle, half a
mile long, which acts as a natural breakwater and forms the harbour.
This ridge, or island as it was called, was uninhabited, but it had been
faced on the inner front by a wall. The water was deep alongside, and
vessels could thus lie in perfect security, secured by their cables to
rings let into the masonry.
The prevailing wind was from the north, bringing in a heavy surf on the
back of the island. There was an opening at both ends, but only one
available for vessels of large draught. In this the channel was narrow,
and a battery at the end of the breakwater would completely command it.
The town stood on the opposite side of the bay.
Into a Spanish port thus constructed Hawkins entered with his battered
squadron on September 16, 1568. He could not have felt entirely easy.
But he probably thought that he had no ill-will to fear from the
inhabitants generally, and that the Spanish authorities would not be
strong enough to meddle with him. His ill star had brought him there at
a time when Alvarez de Baçan, the same officer who had destroyed the
English ships at Gibraltar, was daily expected from Spain--sent by
Philip, as it proved, specially to look for him. Hawkins, when he
appeared outside, had been mistaken for the Spanish admiral, and it was
under this impression that he had been allowed to enter. The error was
quickly discovered on both sides.
Though still ignorant that he was himself De Baçan's particular object,
yet De Baçan was the last officer whom in his crippled condition he
would have cared to encounter. Several Spanish merchantmen were in the
port richly loaded: with these of course he did not meddle, though, if
reinforced, they might perhaps meddle with him. As his best resource he
despatched a courier on the instant to Mexico to inform the Viceroy of
his arrival, to say that he had an English squadron with him; that he
had been driven in by stress of weather and need of repairs; that the
Queen was an ally of the King of Spain; and that, as he understood a
Spanish fleet was likely soon to arrive, he begged the Viceroy to make
arrangements to prevent disputes.
As yet, as I said in the last lecture, there was no Inquisition in
Mexico. It was established there three years later, for the special
benefit of the English. But so far there was no ill-will towards the
English--rather the contrary. Hawkins had hurt no one, and the negro
trading had been eminently popular. The Viceroy might perhaps have
connived at Hawkins's escape, but again by ill-fortune he was himself
under orders of recall, and his successor was coming out in this
particular fleet with De Baçan.
Had he been well disposed and free to act it would still have been too
late, for the very next morning, September 17, De Baçan was off the
harbour mouth with thirteen heavily-armed galleons and frigates. The
smallest of them carried probably 200 men, and the odds were now
tremendous. Hawkins's vessels lay ranged along the inner bank or wall of
the island. He instantly occupied the island itself and mounted guns at
the point covering the way in. He then sent a boat off to De Baçan to
say that he was an Englishman, that he was in possession of the port,
and must forbid the entrance of the Spanish fleet till he was assured
that there was to be no violence. It was a strong measure to shut a
Spanish admiral out of a Spanish port in a time of profound peace.
Still, the way in was difficult, and could not be easily forced if
resolutely defended. The northerly wind was rising; if it blew into a
gale the Spaniards would be on a lee shore. Under desperate
circumstances, desperate things will be done. Hawkins in his subsequent
report thus explains his dilemma:--
'I was in two difficulties. Either I must keep them out of the port,
which with God's grace I could easily have done, in which case with a
northerly wind rising they would have been wrecked, and I should have
been answerable; or I must risk their playing false, which on the whole
I preferred to do.'
The northerly gale it appears did not rise, or the English commander
might have preferred the first alternative. Three days passed in
negotiation. De Baçan and Don Enriquez, the new Viceroy, were naturally
anxious to get into shelter out of a dangerous position, and were
equally desirous not to promise any more than was absolutely necessary.
The final agreement was that De Baçan and the fleet should enter without
opposition. Hawkins might stay till he had repaired his damages, and buy
and sell what he wanted; and further, as long as they remained the
English were to keep possession of the island. This article, Hawkins
says, was long resisted, but was consented to at last. It was absolutely
necessary, for with the island in their hands, the Spaniards had only to
cut the English cables, and they would have driven ashore across the
harbour.
The treaty so drawn was formally signed. Hostages were given on both
sides, and De Baçan came in. The two fleets were moored as far apart
from each other as the size of the port would allow. Courtesies were
exchanged, and for two days all went well. It is likely that the Viceroy
and the admiral did not at first know that it was the very man whom they
had been sent out to sink or capture who was lying so close to them.
When they did know it they may have looked on him as a pirate, with
whom, as with heretics, there was no need to keep faith. Anyway, the rat
was in the trap, and De Baçan did not mean to let him out. The _Jesus_
lay furthest in; the _Minion_ lay beyond her towards the entrance,
moored apparently to a ring on the quay, but free to move; and the
_Judith_, further out again, moored in the same way. Nothing is said of
the two small vessels remaining.
De Baçan made his preparations silently, covered by the town. He had men
in abundance ready to act where he should direct. On the third day, the
20th of September, at noon, the _Minion's_ crew had gone to dinner, when
they saw a large hulk of 900 tons slowly towing up alongside of them.
Not liking such a neighbour, they had their cable ready to slip and
began to set their canvas. On a sudden shots and cries were heard from
the town. Parties of English who were on land were set upon; many were
killed; the rest were seen flinging themselves into the water and
swimming off to the ships. At the same instant the guns of the galleons
and of the shore batteries opened fire on the _Jesus_ and her consorts,
and in the smoke and confusion 300 Spaniards swarmed out of the hulk and
sprang on the _Minion's_ decks. The _Minion's_ men instantly cut them
down or drove them overboard, hoisted sail, and forced their way out of
the harbour, followed by the _Judith_. The _Jesus_ was left alone,
unable to stir. She defended herself desperately. In the many actions
which were fought afterwards between the English and the Spaniards,
there was never any more gallant or more severe. De Baçan's own ship was
sunk and the vice-admiral's was set on fire. The Spanish, having an
enormous advantage in numbers, were able to land a force on the island,
seize the English battery there, cut down the gunners, and turn the guns
close at hand on the devoted _Jesus_. Still she fought on, defeating
every attempt to board, till at length De Baçan sent down fire-ships on
her, and then the end came. All that Hawkins had made by his voyage,
money, bullion, the ship herself, had to be left to their fate. Hawkins
himself with the survivors of the crew took to their boats, dashed
through the enemy, who vainly tried to take them, and struggled out
after the _Minion_ and the _Judith_. It speaks ill for De Baçan that
with so large a force at his command, and in such a position, a single
Englishman escaped to tell the story.
Even when outside Hawkins's situation was still critical and might well
be called desperate. The _Judith_ was but fifty tons; the _Minion_ not
above a hundred. They were now crowded up with men. They had little
water on board, and there had been no time to refill their store-chests,
or fit themselves for sea. Happily the weather was moderate. If the wind
had risen, nothing could have saved them. They anchored two miles off to
put themselves in some sort of order. The Spanish fleet did not venture
to molest further so desperate a foe. On Saturday the 25th they set
sail, scarcely knowing whither to turn. To attempt an ocean voyage as
they were would be certain destruction, yet they could not trust longer
to De Baçan's cowardice or forbearance. There was supposed to be a
shelter of some kind somewhere on the east side of the Gulf of Mexico,
where it was hoped they might obtain provisions. They reached the place
on October 8, but found nothing. English sailors have never been wanting
in resolution. They knew that if they all remained on board every one of
them must starve. A hundred volunteered to land and take their chance.
The rest on short rations might hope to make their way home. The
sacrifice was accepted. The hundred men were put on shore. They wandered
for a few days in the woods, feeding on roots and berries, and shot at
by the Indians. At length they reached a Spanish station, where they
were taken and sent as prisoners to Mexico. There was, as I said, no
Holy Office as yet in Mexico. The new Viceroy, though he had been in the
fight at San Juan de Ulloa, was not implacable. They were treated at
first with humanity; they were fed, clothed, taken care of, and then
distributed among the plantations. Some were employed as overseers, some
as mechanics. Others, who understood any kind of business, were allowed
to settle in towns, make money, and even marry and establish themselves.
Perhaps Philip heard of it, and was afraid that so many heretics might
introduce the plague. The quiet time lasted three years; at the end of
those years the Inquisitors arrived, and then, as if these poor men had
been the special object of that delightful institution, they were hunted
up, thrown into dungeons, examined on their faith, tortured, some burnt
in an _auto da fé_, some lashed through the streets of Mexico naked on
horseback and returned to their prisons. Those who did not die under
this pious treatment were passed over to the Holy Office at Seville and
were condemned to the galleys.
Here I leave them for the moment. We shall presently hear of them again
in a very singular connection. The _Minion_ and _Judith_ meanwhile
pursued their melancholy way. They parted company. The _Judith_, being
the better sailer, arrived first, and reached Plymouth in December, torn
and tattered. Drake rode off post immediately to carry the bad news to
London. The _Minion's_ fate was worse. She made her course through the
Bahama Channel, her crew dying as if struck with a pestilence, till at
last there were hardly men enough left to handle the sails. They fell
too far south for England, and at length had to put into Vigo, where
their probable fate would be a Spanish prison. Happily they found other
English vessels in the roads there. Fresh hands were put on board, and
fresh provisions. With these supplies Hawkins reached Mount's Bay a
month later than the _Judith_, in January 1569.
Drake had told the story, and all England was ringing with it.
Englishmen always think their own countrymen are in the right. The
Spaniards, already in evil odour with the seagoing population, were
accused of abominable treachery. The splendid fight which Hawkins had
made raised him into a national idol, and though he had suffered
financially, his loss was made up in reputation and authority. Every
privateer in the West was eager to serve under the leadership of the
hero of San Juan de Ulloa. He speedily found himself in command of a
large irregular squadron, and even Cecil recognised his consequence. His
chief and constant anxiety was for the comrades whom he had left behind,
and he talked of a new expedition to recover them, or revenge them if
they had been killed; but all things had to wait. They probably found
means of communicating with him, and as long as there was no
Inquisition in Mexico, he may have learnt that there was no immediate
occasion for action.
Elizabeth put a brave face on her disappointment. She knew that she was
surrounded with treason, but she knew also that the boldest course was
the safest. She had taken Alva's money, and was less than ever inclined
to restore it. She had the best of the bargain in the arrest of the
Spanish and English ships and cargoes. Alva would not encourage Philip
to declare war with England till the Netherlands were completely
reduced, and Philip, with his leaden foot (_pié de plomo_), always
preferred patience and intrigue. Time and he and the Pope were three
powers which in the end, he thought, would prove irresistible, and
indeed it seemed, after Hawkins's return, as if Philip would turn out to
be right. The presence of the Queen of Scots in England had set in flame
the Catholic nobles. The wages of Alva's troops had been wrung somehow
out of the wretched Provinces, and his supreme ability and inexorable
resolution were steadily grinding down the revolt. Every port in Holland
and Zealand was in Alva's hands. Elizabeth's throne was undermined by
the Ridolfi conspiracy, the most dangerous which she had ever had to
encounter. The only Protestant fighting power left on the sea which
could be entirely depended on was in the privateer fleet, sailing, most
of them, under a commission from the Prince of Orange.
This fleet was the strangest phenomenon in naval history. It was half
Dutch, half English, with a flavour of Huguenot, and was commanded by a
Flemish noble, Count de la Mark. Its head-quarters were in the Downs or
Dover Roads, where it could watch the narrow seas, and seize every
Spanish ship that passed which was not too strong to be meddled with.
The cargoes taken were openly sold in Dover market. If the Spanish
ambassador is to be believed in a complaint which he addressed to Cecil,
Spanish gentlemen taken prisoners were set up to public auction there
for the ransom which they would fetch, and were disposed of for one
hundred pounds each. If Alva sent cruisers from Antwerp to burn them
out, they retreated under the guns of Dover Castle. Roving squadrons of
them flew down to the Spanish coasts, pillaged churches, carried off
church plate, and the captains drank success to piracy at their banquets
out of chalices. The Spanish merchants at last estimated the property
destroyed at three million ducats, and they said that if their flag
could no longer protect them, they must decline to make further
contracts for the supply of the Netherlands army.
It was life or death to Elizabeth. The Ridolfi plot, an elaborate and
far-reaching conspiracy to give her crown to Mary Stuart and to make
away with heresy, was all but complete. The Pope and Philip had
approved; Alva was to invade; the Duke of Norfolk was to head an
insurrection in the Eastern Counties. Never had she been in greater
danger. Elizabeth was herself to be murdered. The intention was known,
but the particulars of the conspiracy had been kept so secret that she
had not evidence enough to take measures to protect herself. The
privateers at Dover were a sort of protection; they would at least make
Alva's crossing more difficult; but the most pressing exigency was the
discovery of the details of the treason. Nothing was to be gained by
concession; the only salvation was in daring.
At Antwerp there was a certain Doctor Story, maintained by Alva there to
keep a watch on English heretics. Story had been a persecutor under
Mary, and had defended heretic burning in Elizabeth's first Parliament.
He had refused the oath of allegiance, had left the country, and had
taken to treason. Cecil wanted evidence, and this man he knew could give
it. A pretended informer brought Story word that there was an English
vessel in the Scheldt which he would find worth examining. Story was
tempted on board. The hatches were closed over him. He was delivered two
days after at the Tower, when his secrets were squeezed out of him by
the rack and he was then hanged.
Something was learnt, but less still than Cecil needed to take measures
to protect the Queen. And now once more, and in a new character, we are
to meet John Hawkins. Three years had passed since the catastrophe at
San Juan de Ulloa. He had learnt to his sorrow that his poor companions
had fallen into the hands of the Holy Office at last; had been burnt,
lashed, starved in dungeons or worked in chains in the Seville yards;
and his heart, not a very tender one, bled at the thoughts of them. The
finest feature in the seamen of those days was their devotion to one
another. Hawkins determined that, one way or other, these old comrades
of his should be rescued. Entreaties were useless; force was impossible.
There might still be a chance with cunning. He would risk anything, even
the loss of his soul, to save them.
De Silva had left England. The Spanish ambassador was now Don Guerau or
Gerald de Espes, and to him had fallen the task of watching and
directing the conspiracy. Philip was to give the signal, the Duke of
Norfolk and other Catholic peers were to rise and proclaim the Queen of
Scots. Success would depend on the extent of the disaffection in England
itself; and the ambassador's business was to welcome and encourage all
symptoms of discontent. Hawkins knew generally what was going on, and he
saw in it an opportunity of approaching Philip on his weak side. Having
been so much in the Canaries, he probably spoke Spanish fluently. He
called on Don Guerau, and with audacious coolness represented that he
and many of his friends were dissatisfied with the Queen's service. He
said he had found her faithless and ungrateful, and he and they would
gladly transfer their allegiance to the King of Spain, if the King of
Spain would receive them. For himself, he would undertake to bring over
the whole privateer fleet of the West, and in return he asked for
nothing but the release of a few poor English seamen who were in prison
at Seville.
Don Guerau was full of the belief that the whole nation was ready to
rebel. He eagerly swallowed the bait which Hawkins threw to him. He
wrote to Alva, he wrote to Philip's secretary, Cayas, expatiating on the
importance of securing such an addition to their party. It was true, he
admitted, that Hawkins had been a pirate, but piracy was a common fault
of the English, and no wonder when the Spaniards submitted to being
plundered so meekly; the man who was offering his services was bold,
resolute, capable, and had great influence with the English sailors; he
strongly advised that such a recruit should be encouraged.
Alva would not listen. Philip, who shuddered at the very name of
Hawkins, was incredulous. Don Guerau had to tell Sir John that the King
at present declined his offer, but advised him to go himself to Madrid,
or to send some confidential friend with assurances and explanations.