Plymouth Sound. The elements frowned on their start. On the second day
they were caught in a winter gale. The _Pelican_ sprung her mainmast,
and they put back to refit and repair. But Drake defied auguries. Before
the middle of December all was again in order. The weather mended, and
with a fair wind and smooth water they made a fast run across the Bay of
Biscay and down the coast to the Cape de Verde Islands. There taking up
the north-east trades, they struck across the Atlantic, crossed the
line, and made the South American continent in latitude 33° South. They
passed the mouth of the Plate River, finding to their astonishment fresh
water at the ship's side in fifty-four fathoms. All seemed so far going
well, when one morning Mr. Doughty's sloop was missing, and he along
with her. Drake, it seemed, had already reason to distrust Doughty, and
guessed the direction in which he had gone. The _Marigold_ was sent in
pursuit, and he was overtaken and brought back. To prevent a repetition
of such a performance, Drake took the sloop's stores out of her, burnt
her, distributed the crew through the other vessels, and took Mr.
Doughty under his own charge. On June 20 they reached Port St. Julian,
on the coast of Patagonia. They had been long on the way, and the
southern winter had come round, and they had to delay further to make
more particular inquiry into Doughty's desertion. An ominous and strange
spectacle met their eyes as they entered the harbour. In that utterly
desolate spot a skeleton was hanging on a gallows, the bones picked
clean by the vultures. It was one of Magellan's crew who had been
executed there for mutiny fifty years before. The same fate was to
befall the unhappy Englishman who had been guilty of the same fault.
Without the strictest discipline it was impossible for the enterprise to
succeed, and Doughty had been guilty of worse than disobedience. We are
told briefly that his conduct was found tending to contention, and
threatening the success of the voyage. Part he was said to have
confessed; part was proved against him--one knows not what. A court was
formed out of the crew. He was tried, as near as circumstances allowed,
according to English usage. He was found guilty, and was sentenced to
die. He made no complaint, or none of which a record is preserved. He
asked for the Sacrament, which was of course allowed, and Drake himself
communicated with him. They then kissed each other, and the unlucky
wretch took leave of his comrades, laid his head on the block, and so
ended. His offence can be only guessed; but the suspicious curiosity
about his fate which was shown afterwards by Mendoza makes it likely
that he was in Spanish pay. The ambassador cross-questioned Captain
Winter very particularly about him, and we learn one remarkable fact
from Mendoza's letters not mentioned by any English writer, that Drake
was himself the executioner, choosing to bear the entire responsibility.
'This done,' writes an eye-witness, 'the general made divers speeches to
the whole company, persuading us to unity, obedience, and regard of our
voyage, and for the better confirmation thereof willed every man the
Sunday following to prepare himself to receive the Communion as
Christian brothers and friends ought to do, which was done in very
reverend sort; and so with good contentment every man went about his
business.'
You must take this last incident into your conception of Drake's
character, think of it how you please.
It was now midwinter, the stormiest season of the year, and they
remained for six weeks in Port St. Julian. They burnt the twelve-ton
pinnace, as too small for the work they had now before them, and there
remained only the _Pelican_, the _Elizabeth_, and the _Marigold_. In
cold wild weather they weighed at last, and on August 20 made the
opening of Magellan's Straits. The passage is seventy miles long,
tortuous and dangerous. They had no charts. The ships' boats led, taking
soundings as they advanced. Icy mountains overhung them on either side;
heavy snow fell below. They brought up occasionally at an island to rest
the men, and let them kill a few seals and penguins to give them fresh
food. Everything they saw was new, wild, and wonderful.
Having to feel their way, they were three weeks in getting through. They
had counted on reaching the Pacific that the worst of their work was
over, and that they could run north at once into warmer and calmer
latitudes. The peaceful ocean, when they entered it, proved the
stormiest they had ever sailed on. A fierce westerly gale drove them 600
miles to the south-east outside the Horn. It had been supposed,
hitherto, that Tierra del Fuego was solid land to the South Pole, and
that the Straits were the only communication between the Atlantic and
the Pacific. They now learnt the true shape and character of the Western
Continent. In the latitude of Cape Horn a westerly gale blows for ever
round the globe; the waves the highest anywhere known. The _Marigold_
went down in the tremendous encounter. Captain Winter, in the
_Elizabeth_, made his way back into Magellan's Straits. There he lay for
three weeks, lighting fires nightly to show Drake where he was, but no
Drake appeared. They had agreed, if separated, to meet on the coast in
the latitude of Valparaiso; but Winter was chicken-hearted, or else
traitorous like Doughty, and sore, we are told, 'against the mariners'
will,' when the three weeks were out, he sailed away for England, where
he reported that all the ships were lost but the _Pelican_, and that
the _Pelican_ was probably lost too.
Drake had believed better of Winter, and had not expected to be so
deserted. He had himself taken refuge among the islands which form the
Cape, waiting for the spring and milder weather. He used the time in
making surveys, and observing the habits of the native Patagonians, whom
he found a tough race, going naked amidst ice and snow. The days
lengthened, and the sea smoothed at last. He then sailed for Valparaiso,
hoping to meet Winter there, as he had arranged. At Valparaiso there was
no Winter, but there was in the port instead a great galleon just come
in from Peru. The galleon's crew took him for a Spaniard, hoisted their
colours, and beat their drums. The _Pelican_ shot alongside. The English
sailors in high spirits leapt on board. A Plymouth lad who could speak
Spanish knocked down the first man he met with an 'Abajo, perro!' 'Down,
you dog, down!' No life was taken; Drake never hurt man if he could help
it. The crew crossed themselves, jumped overboard, and swam ashore. The
prize was examined. Four hundred pounds' weight of gold was found in
her, besides other plunder.
The galleon being disposed of, Drake and his men pulled ashore to look
at the town. The people had all fled. In the church they found a
chalice, two cruets, and an altar-cloth, which were made over to the
chaplain to improve his Communion furniture. A few pipes of wine and a
Greek pilot who knew the way to Lima completed the booty.
'Shocking piracy,' you will perhaps say. But what Drake was doing would
have been all right and good service had war been declared, and the
essence of things does not alter with the form. In essence there _was_
war, deadly war, between Philip and Elizabeth. Even later, when the
Armada sailed, there had been no formal declaration. The reality is the
important part of the matter. It was but stroke for stroke, and the
English arm proved the stronger.
Still hoping to find Winter in advance of him, Drake went on next to
Tarapaca, where silver from the Andes mines was shipped for Panama. At
Tarapaca there was the same unconsciousness of danger. The silver bars
lay piled on the quay, the muleteers who had brought them were sleeping
peacefully in the sunshine at their side. The muleteers were left to
their slumbers. The bars were lifted into the English boats. A train of
mules or llamas came in at the moment with a second load as rich as the
first. This, too, went into the _Pelican's_ hold. The bullion taken at
Tarapaca was worth near half a million ducats.
Still there were no news of Winter. Drake began to realise that he was
now entirely alone, and had only himself and his own crew to depend on.
There was nothing to do but to go through with it, danger adding to the
interest. Arica was the next point visited. Half a hundred blocks of
silver were picked up at Arica. After Arica came Lima, the chief depôt
of all, where the grandest haul was looked for. At Lima, alas! they were
just too late. Twelve great hulks lay anchored there. The sails were
unbent, the men were ashore. They contained nothing but some chests of
reals and a few bales of silk and linen. But a thirteenth, called by the
gods _Our Lady of the Conception_, called by men _Cacafuego_, a name
incapable of translation, had sailed a few days before for the isthmus,
with the whole produce of the Lima mines for the season. Her ballast was
silver, her cargo gold and emeralds and rubies.
Drake deliberately cut the cables of the ships in the roads, that they
might drive ashore and be unable to follow him. The _Pelican_ spread her
wings, every feather of them, and sped away in pursuit. He would know
the _Cacafuego_, so he learnt at Lima, by the peculiar cut of her sails.
The first man who caught sight of her was promised a gold chain for his
reward. A sail was seen on the second day. It was not the chase, but it
was worth stopping for. Eighty pounds' weight of gold was found, and a
great gold crucifix, set with emeralds said to be as large as pigeon's
eggs. They took the kernel. They left the shell. Still on and on. We
learn from the Spanish accounts that the Viceroy of Lima, as soon as he
recovered from his astonishment, despatched ships in pursuit. They came
up with the last plundered vessel, heard terrible tales of the rovers'
strength, and went back for a larger force. The _Pelican_ meanwhile went
along upon her course for 800 miles. At length, when in the latitude of
Quito and close under the shore, the _Cacafuego's_ peculiar sails were
sighted, and the gold chain was claimed. There she was, freighted with
the fruit of Aladdin's garden, going lazily along a few miles ahead.
Care was needed in approaching her. If she guessed the _Pelican's_
character, she would run in upon the land and they would lose her. It
was afternoon. The sun was still above the horizon, and Drake meant to
wait till night, when the breeze would be off the shore, as in the
tropics it always is.
The _Pelican_ sailed two feet to the _Cacafuego's_ one. Drake filled his
empty wine-skins with water and trailed them astern to stop his way. The
chase supposed that she was followed by some heavy-loaded trader, and,
wishing for company on a lonely voyage, she slackened sail and waited
for him to come up. At length the sun went down into the ocean, the rosy
light faded from off the snows of the Andes; and when both ships had
become invisible from the shore, the skins were hauled in, the night
wind rose, and the water began to ripple under the _Pelican's_ bows.
The _Cacafuego_ was swiftly overtaken, and when within a cable's length
a voice hailed her to put her head into the wind. The Spanish commander,
not understanding so strange an order, held on his course. A broadside
brought down his mainyard; and a flight of arrows rattled on his deck.
He was himself wounded. In a few minutes he was a prisoner, and _Our
Lady of the Conception_ and her precious freight were in the corsair's
power. The wreck was cut away; the ship was cleared; a prize crew was
put on board. Both vessels turned their heads to the sea. At daybreak no
land was to be seen, and the examination of the prize began. The full
value was never acknowledged. The invoice, if there was one, was
destroyed. The accurate figures were known only to Drake and Queen
Elizabeth. A published schedule acknowledged to twenty tons of silver
bullion, thirteen chests of silver coins, and a hundredweight of gold,
but there were gold nuggets besides in indefinite quantity, and 'a great
store' of pearls, emeralds, and diamonds. The Spanish Government proved
a loss of a million and a half of ducats, excluding what belonged to
private persons. The total capture was immeasurably greater.
Drake, we are told, was greatly satisfied. He thought it prudent to stay
in the neighbourhood no longer than necessary. He went north with all
sail set, taking his prize along with him. The master, San Juan de
Anton, was removed on board the _Pelican_ to have his wound attended to.
He remained as Drake's guest for a week, and sent in a report of what he
observed to the Spanish Government. One at least of Drake's party spoke
excellent Spanish. This person took San Juan over the ship. She showed
signs, San Juan said, of rough service, but was still in fine condition,
with ample arms, spare rope, mattocks, carpenters' tools of all
descriptions. There were eighty-five men on board all told, fifty of
them men-of-war, the rest young fellows, ship-boys and the like. Drake
himself was treated with great reverence; a sentinel stood always at his
cabin door. He dined alone with music.
No mystery was made of the _Pelican's_ exploits. The chaplain showed San
Juan the crucifix set with emeralds, and asked him if he could
seriously believe that to be God. San Juan asked Drake how he meant to
go home. Drake showed him a globe with three courses traced on it. There
was the way that he had come, there was the way by China and the Cape of
Good Hope, and there was a third way which he did not explain. San Juan
asked if Spain and England were at war. Drake said he had a commission
from the Queen. His captures were for her, not for himself. He added
afterwards that the Viceroy of Mexico had robbed him and his kinsman,
and he was making good his losses.
Then, touching the point of the sore, he said, 'I know the Viceroy will
send for thee to inform himself of my proceedings. Tell him he shall do
well to put no more Englishmen to death, and to spare those he has in
his hands, for if he do execute them I will hang 2,000 Spaniards and
send him their heads.'
After a week's detention San Juan and his men were restored to the empty
_Cacafuego_, and allowed to go. On their way back they fell in with the
two cruisers sent in pursuit from Lima, reinforced by a third from
Panama. They were now fully armed; they went in chase, and according to
their own account came up with the _Pelican_. But, like Lope de Vega,
they seemed to have been terrified at Drake as a sort of devil. They
confessed that they dared not attack him, and again went back for more
assistance. The Viceroy abused them as cowards, arrested the officers,
despatched others again with peremptory orders to seize Drake, even if
he was the devil, but by that time their questionable visitor had flown.
They found nothing, perhaps to their relief.
A despatch went instantly across the Atlantic to Philip. One squadron
was sent off from Cadiz to watch the Straits of Magellan, and another to
patrol the Caribbean Sea. It was thought that Drake's third way was no
seaway at all, that he meant to leave the _Pelican_ at Darien, carry his
plunder over the mountains, and build a ship at Honduras to take him
home. His real idea was that he might hit off the passage to the north
of which Frobisher and Davis thought they had found the eastern
entrance. He stood on towards California, picking up an occasional
straggler in the China trade, with silk, porcelain, gold, and emeralds.
Fresh water was a necessity. He put in at Guatulco for it, and his
proceedings were humorously prompt. The alcaldes at Guatulco were in
session trying a batch of negroes. An English boat's crew appeared in
court, tied the alcaldes hand and foot, and carried them off to the
_Pelican_, there to remain as hostages till the water-casks were filled.
North again he fell in with a galleon carrying out a new Governor to the
Philippines. The Governor was relieved of his boxes and his jewels, and
then, says one of the party, 'Our General, thinking himself in respect
of his private injuries received from the Spaniards, as also their
contempt and indignities offered to our country and Prince, sufficiently
satisfied and revenged, and supposing her Majesty would rest contented
with this service, began to consider the best way home.' The first
necessity was a complete overhaul of the ship. Before the days of copper
sheathing weeds grew thick under water. Barnacles formed in clusters,
stopping the speed, and sea-worms bored through the planking. Twenty
thousand miles lay between the _Pelican_ and Plymouth Sound, and Drake
was not a man to run idle chances. Still holding his north course till
he had left the furthest Spanish settlement far to the south, he put
into Canoas Bay in California, laid the _Pelican_ ashore, set up forge
and workshop, and repaired and re-rigged her with a month's labour from
stem to stern. With every rope new set up and new canvas on every yard,
he started again on April 16, 1579, and continued up the coast to
Oregon. The air grew cold though it was summer. The men felt it from
having been so long in the tropics, and dropped out of health. There was
still no sign of a passage. If passage there was, Drake perceived that
it must be of enormous length. Magellan's Straits, he guessed, would be
watched for him, so he decided on the route by the Cape of Good Hope. In
the Philippine ship he had found a chart of the Indian Archipelago. With
the help of this and his own skill he hoped to find his way. He went
down again to San Francisco, landed there, found the soil teeming with
gold, made acquaintance with an Indian king who hated the Spaniards and
wished to become an English subject. But Drake had no leisure to annex
new territories. Avoiding the course from Mexico to the Philippines, he
made a direct course to the Moluccas, and brought up again at the Island
of Celebes. Here the _Pelican_ was a second time docked and scraped. The
crew had a month's rest among the fireflies and vampires of the tropical
forest. Leaving Celebes, they entered on the most perilous part of the
whole voyage. They wound their way among coral reefs and low islands
scarcely visible above the water-line. In their chart the only outlet
marked into the Indian Ocean was by the Straits of Malacca. But Drake
guessed rightly that there must be some nearer opening, and felt his way
looking for it along the coast of Java. Spite of all his care, he was
once on the edge of destruction. One evening as night was closing in a
grating sound was heard under the _Pelican's_ keel. In another moment
she was hard and fast on a reef. The breeze was light and the water
smooth, or the world would have heard no more of Francis Drake. She lay
immovable till daybreak. At dawn the position was seen not to be
entirely desperate. Drake himself showed all the qualities of a great
commander. Cannon were thrown over and cargo that was not needed. In the
afternoon, the wind changing, the lightened vessel lifted off the rocks
and was saved. The hull was uninjured, thanks to the Californian
repairs. All on board had behaved well with the one exception of Mr.
Fletcher, the chaplain. Mr. Fletcher, instead of working like a man, had
whined about Divine retribution for the execution of Doughty.
For the moment Drake passed it over. A few days after, they passed out
through the Straits of Sunda, where they met the great ocean swell,
Homer's [Greek: mega kuma thalassês], and they knew then that all was
well.
There was now time to call Mr. Fletcher to account. It was no business
of the chaplain to discourage and dispirit men in a moment of danger,
and a court was formed to sit upon him. An English captain on his own
deck represents the sovereign, and is head of Church as well as State.
Mr. Fletcher was brought to the forecastle, where Drake, sitting on a
sea-chest with a pair of _pantoufles_ in his hand, excommunicated him,
pronounced him cut off from the Church of God, given over to the devil
for the chastising of his flesh, and left him chained by the leg to a
ring-bolt to repent of his cowardice.
In the general good-humour punishment could not be of long duration. The
next day the poor chaplain had his absolution, and returned to his berth
and his duty. The _Pelican_ met with no more adventures. Sweeping in
fine clear weather round the Cape of Good Hope, she touched once for
water at Sierra Leone, and finally sailed in triumph into Plymouth
Harbour, where she had been long given up for lost, having traced the
first furrow round the globe. Winter had come home eighteen months
before, but could report nothing. The news of the doings on the American
coast had reached England through Madrid. The Spanish ambassador had
been furious. It was known that Spanish squadrons had been sent in
search. Complications would arise if Drake brought his plunder home, and
timid politicians hoped that he was at the bottom of the sea. But here
he was, actually arrived with a monarch's ransom in his hold.
English sympathy with an extraordinary exploit is always irresistible.
Shouts of applause rang through the country, and Elizabeth, every bit of
her an Englishwoman, felt with her subjects. She sent for Drake to
London, made him tell his story over and over again, and was never weary
of listening to him. As to injury to Spain, Philip had lighted a fresh
insurrection in Ireland, which had cost her dearly in lives and money.
For Philip to demand compensation of England on the score of justice was
a thing to make the gods laugh.
So thought the Queen. So unfortunately did not think some members of her
Council, Lord Burghley among them. Mendoza was determined that Drake
should be punished and the spoils disgorged, or else that he would force
Elizabeth upon the world as the confessed protectress of piracy.
Burghley thought that, as things stood, some satisfaction (or the form
of it) would have to be made.
Elizabeth hated paying back as heartily as Falstaff, nor had she the
least intention of throwing to the wolves a gallant Englishman, with
whose achievements the world was ringing. She was obliged to allow the
treasure to be registered by a responsible official, and an account
rendered to Mendoza; but for all that she meant to keep her own share of
the spoils. She meant, too, that Drake and his brave crew should not go
unrewarded. Drake himself should have ten thousand pounds at least.
Her action was eminently characteristic of her. On the score of real
justice there was no doubt at all how matters stood between herself and
Philip, who had tried to dethrone and kill her.
The _Pelican_ lay still at Plymouth with the bullion and jewels
untouched. She directed that it should be landed and scheduled. She
trusted the business to Edmund Tremayne, of Sydenham, a neighbouring
magistrate, on whom she could depend. She told him not to be too
inquisitive, and she allowed Drake to go back and arrange the cargo
before the examination was made. Let me now read you a letter from
Tremayne himself to Sir Francis Walsingham:--
'To give you some understanding how I have proceeded with Mr. Drake: I
have at no time entered into the account to know more of the value of
the treasure than he made me acquainted with; and to say truth I
persuaded him to impart to me no more than need, for so I saw him
commanded in her Majesty's behalf that he should reveal the certainty to
no man living. I have only taken notice of so much as he _has_ revealed,
and the same I have seen to be weighed, registered, and packed. And to
observe her Majesty's commands for the ten thousand pounds, we agreed he
should take it out of the portion that was landed secretly, and to
remove the same out of the place before my son Henry and I should come
to the weighing and registering of what was left; and so it was done,
and no creature living by me made privy to it but himself; and myself no
privier to it than as you may perceive by this.