THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS (_continued_).
A Grand Epoch of Discovery—Anson’s Voyage—Difficulties of manning
the Fleet—Five Hundred Invalided Pensioners drafted—The Spanish
Squadron under Pizarro—Its Disastrous Voyage—One Vessel run
ashore—Rats at Four Dollars each—A Man-of-war held by eleven
Indians—Anson at the Horn—Fearful Outbreak of Scurvy—Ashore at
Robinson Crusoe’s Island—Death of two-thirds of the Crews—Beauty
of Juan Fernandez—Loss of the _Wager_—Drunken and Insubordinate
Crew—Attempt to blow up the Captain—A Midshipman shot—Desertion of
the Ship’s Company—Prizes taken by Anson—His Humanity to
Prisoners—The _Gloucester_ abandoned at Sea—Delightful Stay at
Tinian—The _Centurion_ blown out to Sea—Despair of those on
Shore—Its Safe Return—Capture of the Manilla Galleon—A Hot
Fight—Prize worth a Million and a half Dollars—Return to England.
The second of the greatest epochs of discovery—one, indeed, hardly
inferior to that of Columbus and Da Gama, when Dampier, Byron, Wallis, and
Carteret, Cook, and Clerke may be said to have substantially completed the
map of the world in its most essential and leading features—would follow
in proper sequence here, but for a pre-arranged plan, which will place
“The Decisive Voyages of the World” by themselves. One voyage of this
period, that of Commodore Anson, deserves mention, inasmuch as it was
instigated for the purpose of making reprisals on the Spaniards for their
behaviour in searching English ships found near any of their settlements
in the West Indies or Spanish Main, and not for attempts at discovery. It
also gives some little insight into the condition of the navy at the
period. It was most wretchedly equipped and manned, and although the ships
were placed under Anson’s command in November, 1739, they were not ready
to sail till ten months later, so great was the difficulty in obtaining
men. They had to be taken from all and any sources. Five hundred
out-pensioners from Chelsea Hospital were sent on board, many of whom were
sixty years of age, and some threescore and ten. Before the ships sailed,
240 of them, fortunately for themselves, deserted, their place being
filled by a nearly equal number of raw marines, recruits who were so
untrained that Anson would not permit them to fire off their muskets, for
fear of accidents! Of the poor pensioners who sailed, not one returned to
tell the story of their disasters, while of the whole squadron, consisting
of six ships of war, mounting 226 guns, one alone, the _Centurion_,
commanded by Anson himself, reached home, after a cruise of three years
and nine months. The history of this voyage, as told by the chaplain of
the vessel,(14) is one round of miseries and disasters.
“Mr. Anson,” says the narrator of this eventful voyage, “was greatly
chagrined at having such a decrepit attachment allotted to him; for he was
fully persuaded that the greatest part of them would perish long before
they arrived at the scene of action, since the delays he had already
encountered necessarily confined his passage round Cape Horn to the most
rigorous season of the year. Sir Charles Wager (one of the Lords of the
Admiralty) too, joined in opinion with the Commodore, that the invalids
were no way proper for this service, and solicited strenuously to have
them exchanged; but he was told that persons who were supposed to be
better judges than he or Mr. Anson, thought them the properest men that
could be employed on this occasion.” All of the poor pensioners “who had
limbs and strength to walk out of Portsmouth deserted, leaving behind them
only such as were literally invalids.... Indeed, it is difficult to
conceive a more moving scene than the embarkation of these unhappy
veterans. They were themselves extremely averse to the service they were
engaged on, and fully apprised of all the disasters they were afterwards
exposed to, the apprehensions of which were strongly marked by the concern
that appeared in their countenances, which were mixed with no small degree
of indignation.” Nor can one read these facts without sharing the same
feeling. Brave men who had spent the best of their youth and prime in the
service of their country, were ruthlessly sent to certain death.
On the 18th of September, 1740, the squadron, consisting of five
men-of-war, a sloop-of-war, and two tenders, or victualling ships, made
sail. The vessels comprised the _Centurion_, of sixty guns and 400 men,
commanded by George Anson; the _Gloucester_ and _Severn_, each fifty guns
and 300 men; the _Pearl_, of forty guns and 250 men; the _Wager_, of
twenty-eight guns and 160 men; and the _Tryal_ sloop, eight guns and 100
men. On their way down the Channel they were joined by other men-of-war
convoying the Turkey, Straits, and American merchant fleets, so that for
some distance out to sea the combined fleet amounted to no less than
eleven vessels of the Royal Navy, and 150 sail of merchantmen. Anson
called at Madeira, and refreshed his crews, from thence appointing the
Island of St. Catherine’s, on the coast of Brazil, as the rendezvous for
his fleet. Arrived there it was found that a large number of the men were
sickly, as many as eighty being so reported on the _Centurion_ alone, and
the other ships in proportion. Tents were erected ashore for the invalids,
and the vessels were thoroughly cleaned, smoked between decks, and finally
washed well with vinegar. The vessels themselves required many repairs to
fit them for the intended voyage round the Horn. The then governor of this
Portuguese island, one Don Jose Sylva De Paz, behaved very badly, doing
all in his power to prevent Anson from obtaining fresh provisions, and
secretly dispatched an express to Buenos Ayres, where a Spanish squadron
under Don Josef Pizarro then lay, with an account of the number and
strength of the English ships. The history and disasters of this squadron
would fill a long chapter.
Pizarro had with him six ships of war, and a very large force of men, two
of the vessels having seven hundred each on board. But in spite of his
superior strength, he avoided any engagement at this time, and seems to
have been extremely desirous of rounding Cape Horn before Anson, for he
left before his provision ships arrived. Notwithstanding this haste the
two squadrons were once or twice very close together on the passage to
Cape Horn, and the _Pearl_, being separated from the fleet, and mistaking
the Spanish squadron for it, narrowly escaped falling into their hands. In
a terrible gale off the Horn the Spanish vessels became separated, and
Pizarro turned his own ship’s head, the _Asia_, for the Plata once more.
One of his squadron, the _Hermiona_, of fifty-four guns and 500 men, is
believed to have foundered at sea, for she was never heard of more.
Another, the _Guipuscoa_, a still larger ship, with 700 souls on board,
was run ashore and sunk on the coast of Brazil. Famine and mutiny were
added to the horrors of these voyages. On the latter-named ship 250 died
from hunger and fatigue, for those who were still strong enough to work at
the pumps received only an ounce and a half of biscuit _per diem_, while
the incapable were allowed an ounce of wheat! Men fell down dead at the
pumps, and out of an original crew of 700, not more than eighty or a
hundred were capable of duty. The captain had conceived some hopes of
saving his ship by taking her into St. Catherine’s. When the crew learned
his intention, they left off pumping, and “being enraged at the hardships
they had suffered, and the numbers they had lost (there being at that time
no less than thirty dead bodies lying on the deck) they all, with one
voice, cried out, ‘On shore! on shore!’ and obliged the captain to run the
ship in directly for the land, where the fifth day after she sunk with her
stores and all her furniture on board her.” Four hundred of the crew got,
however, safely to shore. On another of the Spanish ships they became so
reduced “that rats, when they could be caught, were sold for four dollars
apiece; and a sailor who died on board had his death concealed for some
days by his brother, who during that time lay in the same hammock with the
corpse, only to receive the dead man’s allowance of provisions.” The
_Asia_ arrived at Monte Video with only half her crew; the _Esperanza_, a
fifty-gun ship, had only fifty-eight remaining out of 450 men, and the
_St. Estevan_ had lost about half her hands. The latter vessel was
condemned, and broken up in the Plata.
When Pizarro determined, in 1745, to return to Spain, they managed to
patch up the _Asia_, at Monte Video, but had only 100 of the original
hands left. They pressed a number of Portuguese, and put on board a number
of English prisoners (not, however, of Anson’s squadron) and some Indians
of the country. Among the latter was a chief named Orellana, and ten of
his tribe, whom the Spaniards treated with great inhumanity. The Indians
determined to have their revenge. They managed to acquire a number of long
knives, and employed their leisure in cutting thongs of raw hide, and in
fixing to each end of the thongs the double-headed shot of the
quarter-deck guns, which when swung round their heads, became powerful
weapons. In two or three days all was ready for their scheme of vengeance.
It was about nine in the evening, when the decks were comparatively clear,
that Orellana and his companions, having divested themselves of most of
their clothes, came together to the quarter-deck, approaching the door of
the great cabin. The boatswain ordered them away. Orellana, however, paid
no attention to him, placed two of his men at either gangway, and raising
a hideous war-cry, they commenced the massacre, slashing in all directions
with the knives, and brandishing the double-headed shot. The six who
remained with the chief on the quarter-deck laid nearly forty Spaniards
low in a few minutes, of whom twenty were killed on the spot. Many of the
officers fled into the great cabin, and hastily barricaded the door. A
perfect panic ensued on board. Many attempting to escape to the forecastle
were stabbed as they passed by the four Indian sentries, and others jumped
into the waist, where they thought themselves fortunate to lie concealed
among the cattle on board; a number fled up the main shrouds and kept on
the tops or rigging. The fact is that those on board did not know whether
it was not a general mutiny among the pressed hands and prisoners, and the
yells of the Indians and groans of the dying, and the confused clamour of
the crew, were all heightened in effect by the obscurity of the night. And
now Orellana secured the arm-chest, which had been placed on the
quarter-deck for security a few days before. It was of no use to him, as
he only found a quantity of fire-arms, which he did not understand, or for
which he had no ammunition; the cutlasses, for which he was in search,
were fortunately hidden underneath. By this time Pizarro had established
some communication with the gun-rooms and between decks, and discovered
that the English prisoners had not intermeddled in the mutiny, which was
confined to the Indians. They had only pistols in the cabin, and no
ammunition for them; at last, however, they managed to obtain some by
lowering a bucket out of the cabin window, into which the gunner, out of
one of the gun-room ports, put a quantity of cartridges. After loading,
they cautiously and partially opened the cabin door, firing several shots,
at first without effect. At last, Mindinuetta, one of the captains of the
original squadron, had the fortune to shoot Orellana dead on the spot, on
which his faithful companions one and all leaped into the sea and
perished. For full two hours these eleven Indians had held a ship of
sixty-six guns, and manned by nearly 500 hands!
Pizarro, having escaped this peril, reached Spain in safety, “after having
been absent between four and five years, and having,” says the narrator,
“by his attendance on our expedition, diminished the naval power of Spain
by above three thousand hands (the flower of their sailors), and by four
considerable ships of war and a patache.” He had not encountered Anson,
nor done any of his ships damage. To the disasters and adventures
encountered by that commander we must now return.
[Illustration: THE “CENTURION” OFF CAPE HORN]
Off Cape Horn the weather was so terrible that it obliged the oldest
mariners on board “to confess that what they had hitherto called storms
were inconsiderable gales.” Short, mountainous waves pitched and tossed
the vessels so violently that the men were in perpetual danger of being
dashed to pieces. One of the best seamen on the _Centurion_ was canted
overboard and drowned; his manly form was long seen struggling in the
water, he being a good swimmer, while those on board were powerless to
assist him. Another man was thrown violently into the hold and broke his
thigh; a second dislocated his neck, and one of the boatswain’s mates
broke his collar-bone twice. The squalls were so sudden that they were
obliged to lie-to for days together, almost under bare poles, and when in
a lull they ventured to set a little canvas, the blasts would return and
carry away their sails. Squalls of rain and snow constantly occurred. The
_Centurion_, labouring in the heavy seas, “was now grown so loose in her
upper works that she let in the water at every seam, so that every part
within board was constantly exposed to the sea-water, and scarcely any of
the officers ever lay in dry beds. Indeed, it was very rare that two
nights ever passed without many of them being driven from their beds by
the deluge of water that came in upon them.” Shrouds snapped, and yards
and masts were lost on several of the squadron. Two of the vessels, the
_Severn_ and the _Pearl_, became separated from the fleet, and were no
more seen by them on the voyage.
But their worst trouble was a terrible outbreak of that insidious disease,
the scurvy. In April, May, and part of June, the loss on the _Centurion_
alone was two hundred men, and at length they could not muster more than
six fore-mast hands in a watch capable of duty. The symptoms of this
horrible complaint are various; but apart from the universal scorbutic
manifestations on the body, diseased bones, swelled legs, and putrid gums,
there is an extraordinary lassitude and weakness, which degenerate into a
proneness to swoon, and even die, on the least exertion of strength, and a
dejection of spirits which leads the invalid to take alarm at the most
trifling accident. Let the reader imagine what all this meant on
closely-packed ships, tempest-tossed off the dreaded Horn. When at length
the _Centurion_ reached the famed Crusoe Island, Juan Fernandez, the
lieutenant “could muster no more than two quartermasters, and six
fore-mast hands capable of working.” Without the assistance of the
officers, servants, and boys, they might never have been able to reach the
island after sighting it, and with such aid they were _two hours_ in
trimming the sails. When their sloop, the _Tryal_, followed them to this
haven of refuge, only the captain, lieutenant, and three men were able to
stand by the sails. When, ten days later on, the _Gloucester_ was seen in
the offing, and Anson had sent off a boat laden with fresh water, fish,
and vegetables for the crew, it was found that they had already thrown
overboard two-thirds of their complement. It took them, with some
assistance sent by Anson, a month before they could fetch the bay,
contrary winds and currents, but more their utterly exhausted condition,
being the causes. They were now reduced to eighty out of an original crew
of three hundred men. Severe as have been the sufferings from scurvy
endured on many of the Arctic expeditions, there is no case on record as
painful as this. The three ships which reached Juan Fernandez had on board
when they left England 961 men; before the ravages of the disease were
stopped the number was reduced to 335, scarcely sufficient to man the
_Centurion_ alone. And it must be remembered that all this time they were
uncertain of the movements of Pizarro and his fleet, which might appear
among them at any moment. The refreshment obtained at the island, fresh
water, vegetables, fruit, fish in abundance, a little goat’s flesh, and
seal-meat, proved of great value to those of the crew whose constitutions
were not thoroughly undermined by the fell disease; but it was as much as
they could do to effect the many repairs required on the vessels, to the
extent even of removing and replacing masts.
Of the beauty of many parts of Juan Fernandez the chaplain speaks in
enthusiastic terms. “Some particular spots occurred in these valleys,
where the shade and fragrance of the contiguous woods, the loftiness of
the overhanging rocks, and the transparency and frequent falls of the
neighbouring streams, presented scenes of such elegance and dignity, as
would with difficulty be rivalled in any other part of the globe.... I
shall finish this article with a short account of the spot where the
commodore pitched his tent, and which he made choice of for his own
residence, though I despair of conveying an adequate idea of its beauty.
The piece of ground which he chose was a small lawn, that lay on a little
ascent, at the distance of about half a mile from the sea. In the front of
his tent there was a large avenue cut through the woods to the seaside,
which, sloping to the water with a gentle descent, opened a prospect of
the bay and the ships at anchor. This lawn was screened behind by a tall
wood of myrtle sweeping round it, in the form of a theatre; the slope on
which the wood stood rising with a much sharper ascent than the lawn
itself, though not so much but that the hills and precipices within-land
towered up considerably above the tops of the trees, and added to the
grandeur of the view. There were besides two streams of crystal water,
which ran on the right and left of the tent within a hundred yards’
distance, and were shaded by the trees which skirted the lawn on either
side, and completed the symmetry of the whole.”
Meantime, the other vessels of the squadron did not put in an appearance.
That two of them, the _Pearl_ and _Severn_, were not to be expected, we
have already learned; but what had become of the _Wager_? It was learned
afterwards that while making the passage to the island of Socoro, one of
the rendezvous of the squadron, she had become entangled among the rocks
and grounded, soon becoming an utter wreck. The Honourable John Byron,
afterwards a commodore in his Majesty’s service, but then a youngster on
board, has left an account of the disaster in his well-known work.(15) “In
the morning, about four o’clock,” says he, “the ship struck. The shock we
received upon this occasion, though very great, being not unlike a blow of
a heavy sea, such as in the series of preceding storms we had often
experienced, was taken for the same; but we were soon undeceived by her
striking again more violently than before, which laid her upon her
beam-ends, the sea making a fair breach over her. Every person that now
could stir was presently upon the quarter-deck; and many of those were
alert upon this occasion that had not showed their faces upon deck for
above two months before; several poor wretches, who were in the last stage
of the scurvy, and who could not get out of their hammocks, were
immediately drowned.” Some seemed bereaved of their senses; one man was
seen stalking about the deck flourishing a cutlass over his head, calling
himself king of the country, and striking everybody he came near, till he
was knocked down by some of those he had assaulted. “Some, reduced before
by long sickness and the scurvy, became on this occasion as it were
petrified and bereaved of all sense, like inanimate logs, and were bandied
to and fro by the jerks and rolls of the ship, without exerting any
efforts to help themselves.... The man at the helm, though both rudder and
tiller were gone, kept his station; and being asked by one of the officers
if the ship would steer or not, first took his time to make trial by the
wheel, and then answered with as much respect and coolness as if the ship
had been in the greatest safety; and immediately after applied himself
with his usual serenity to his duty, persuaded it did not become him to
desert it as long as the ship kept together.” The captain, who had
dislocated his shoulder by a fall the day before, was coolness itself, and
one of the mates did all in his power to inspire them with the belief that
they would not be lost so near land. This wrought a change in many who but
a few minutes before had been in despair, praying on their knees for
mercy. It was another illustration of—
“When the devil was sick,”
for they commenced breaking in the casks of brandy or wine as they came up
the hatchway, and several got so intoxicated that they were drowned on
board, and lay floating about the decks for several days. The boatswain
and some of the men would not leave the ship so long as there was any
liquor to be found on her; and Captain Cheap, having got off as many of
the crew as would come, about a hundred and forty in number, suffered
himself to be helped out of his bed, put into the boat, and carried
ashore.
After passing a miserable night, almost without shelter, the calls of
hunger—most of them having fasted forty-eight hours—obliged them to seek
for sustenance. Two or three pounds of biscuit dust, one sea-gull, and
some wild celery, were boiled up into a kind of soup, which made all very
ill who partook of it. It was at first supposed that the wild herb was the
cause, but it was soon discovered that the biscuit dust, the sweepings of
the bread-room, had been gathered in a tobacco bag, and that the tobacco
dust mingled with it had acted as an emetic.
Still a number of the wretched crew remained on board, pilfering all they
could find, often whether it could be of use to them or not, and showing a
particular desire to provide themselves with arms and ammunition. They
averred that the authority of the officers must cease with the loss of the
ship; but as they came ashore, the arms were taken from them. When the
boatswain came ashore in laced clothes, Captain Cheap knocked him down.
“It was scarce possible to refrain from laughter at the whimsical
appearance these fellows made, who, having rifled the chests of the
officers’ best suits, had put them on over their greasy trousers and dirty
checked shirts. They were soon stripped of their finery, as they had
before been obliged to resign their arms.” The cutter, turned keel
upwards, was now placed on props and covered, so that it made a reasonably
comfortable habitation. Shell-fish were found in tolerable abundance, “but
this rummaging of the shore,” says Byron, “was now become extremely
irksome to those who had any feeling, by the bodies of our drowned people
thrown among the rocks, some of which were hideous spectacles, from the
mangled condition they were in by the violent surf that drove in upon the
coast. These horrors were overcome by the distresses of our people, who
were even glad of the occasion of killing the gallinazo (the carrion crow
of that country) while preying on these carcases, in order to make a meal
of them.”
Such stores as could be landed were placed in a guarded tent, and doled
out carefully. A few Indians arrived, and, after some parley, proved
friendly, and were presented with sundry trifles. The looking-glasses
astonished them; “the beholder could not conceive it to be his own face
that was represented, but that of some other behind it, which he therefore
went round to the back of the glass to find out.” They left, and in two
days returned with three sheep, which astonished the officers, inasmuch as
they were far from any of the Spanish settlements.
And now mutiny and desertion ensued. One section of the men, “a most
desperate and abandoned crew,” attempted, by placing a barrel of gunpowder
close to the captain’s hut, with a train to be lighted at a distance, to
destroy their commander and his authority by one fell blow, but were
dissuaded by one of their number, who had some conscience left. They
eventually built a punt, and converted the hull of one of the ship’s masts
into a canoe, escaping therewith to the mainland. They were never heard of
more. These men were a good riddance, but a more unfortunate event was to
follow. Mr. Cozens, a midshipman, had been placed under confinement for
being drunk, and using abusive language to the captain, but was soon after
released. Subsequently he had a dispute with the surgeon, and later with
the purser. The latter told him that he had “come to mutiny,” and fired
his pistol at him, narrowly missing him. The captain, hearing all this,
rushed out, and, without asking any questions, shot Cozens through the
head, and then declined to allow him to be removed to shelter. The
wretched young man (whom Byron believes to have been purposely “kept warm
with liquor, and set on by some ill-designing persons,” as he had always
been a good-natured, inoffensive man when sober) was allowed by the
captain to die like a dog, “with no other covering than a bit of canvas
thrown over some bushes,” fourteen days afterwards. This gave the men a
good excuse for that which they were about to execute.
It had been arranged that the long-boat, rescued from the wreck, should be
lengthened. The captain proposed that they should proceed northwards in
the Pacific, hoping that they might encounter and master one of the
enemy’s ships, and rejoin Commodore Anson; the men, very generally, were
bent on making their voyage home through the Straits of Magellan. While
the alterations were in progress, the matter rested temporarily, as they
were occupied in saving portions of, or stores from, the wreck, or in
obtaining shell-fish and sea-fowl, which seem not to have been too
abundant. Byron had cherished in his little hut a poor Indian dog, which
had become much attached to him. One day a hungry party of the men came to
him, and, after a little ineffectual remonstrance, took the dog away and
killed it; “upon which,” says Byron, “thinking that I had at least as good
a right to a share as the rest, I sat down with them, and partook of their
repast. Three weeks after that I was glad to make a meal of his paws and
skin, which, upon recollecting the spot where they had killed him, I found
thrown aside and rotten.” One of the men constructed a novel craft from a
large cask, to which he lashed two logs, one on either side. In this he
ventured out to sea, and often managed to get wild fowl. One day he was
upset by a heavy sea, but managed to scramble to a solitary rock, where he
remained two days, till accidentally rescued by a boat party.
While the coast was being reconnoitred, the “old cabal” had been revived,
the debates of which generally ended in riot and drunkenness. The meeting
of the leading mutineers was held in a large tent, which had been made
snug, by lining it with bales of broadcloth driven from the wreck.
Eighteen of the ship’s company had possession of this tent, from whence
committees were dispatched with their resolutions, and quite as often with
demands for liquor. The captain seemingly acquiesced, so far as their
projected voyage was concerned; but when they began to stipulate that his
powers as commander must be restricted, he naturally insisted upon the
full exercise of his rights. “This broke all measures between them, and
they were from this time determined he should go with them, whether he
would or no.” The unfortunate affair concerning Cozens was raked up, and
they threatened to put him under confinement, and bring him to trial in
England. When, however, they found that the long boat, cutter, and barge
were barely large enough to carry all, they agreed to leave him behind,
with the surgeon, and one of the officers of marines. Byron was taken on
board, but, as he says, “was determined, upon the first opportunity, to
leave them.” They were in all eighty-one when they left the island. Their
intention was to put into some harbour, if possible, every evening, as
they were in no condition for long sea-trips, neither would their scanty
provisions have lasted many days. Their water was contained in a few small
powder barrels; their flour was to be lengthened out by a mixture of
sea-weed; and their other supplies must depend upon their success in
hunting or fishing. Next day they considered it necessary to send back the
barge for some spare canvas, and Byron took the opportunity of leaving
them. When they were clear of the long-boat, he found that the men on
board contemplated deserting the deserters also. They “were extremely
welcome to Captain Cheap.” Some attempts were made to get a share of the
provisions from the mutineers, but they absolutely refused. When they had
left the captain and the two other officers, they had given them six
pieces of beef, the same of pork, and ninety pounds of flour. For a day or
two after Byron’s return with a few of the men, a small allowance was
doled out to them; “yet it was upon the foot of favour,” and soon ceased,
after which they had to subsist on “a weed called laugh,” fried in the
tallow of some candles they had saved, and wild celery. The account of
their sufferings, and eventual escape to Chili, forms the bulk of the
volume from which this narrative is taken. What became of the long-boat
and its crew of mutineers? More than three months after they deserted the
captain, thirty of them arrived at Rio Grande, on the coast of Brazil;
twenty had been left at various points, and a larger number had died from
starvation.
But to return once more to Anson. Just at the time they were straining all
points to make ready for leaving Juan Fernandez, a sail was espied far in
the offing. Whilst the vessel advanced, they fancied that she might be one
of their own ships; but when she hauled off, it was determined to pursue
her. The _Centurion_ being in the most forward state, immediately got
under sail; but the wind being light, they soon lost sight of the
stranger. Persuaded that she was an enemy, they steered in the direction
of Valparaiso for a couple of days; then considering that she must have
reached her port, were on the point of abandoning the chase, when a gale
blew them out of their course, at the same time bringing them once more in
sight of the unknown vessel, which at first bore down upon them, showing
Spanish colours. She appeared to be a large ship which had mistaken the
_Centurion_ for her consort, and was thought to be one of Pizarro’s
squadron; this induced Anson to clear the guns of all casks of water or
provisions which encumbered them, and prepare for action. When near
enough, she was discovered to be only a merchantman, the _Carmelo_,
without even as much as a tier of guns. A little later, four shot were
fired among her rigging, on which not one of the crew would venture aloft.
The ship yielded immediately. When the first lieutenant went on board, he
was received with abject submission; and the passengers on board,
twenty-five in number, were terrified at the prospect of the ill-treatment
they should receive. But Anson was always humane and generous with a
fallen foe, and they were soon re-assured. His kindness was not thrown
away. When at length Captain Cheap and his brother-officers of the wrecked
_Wager_ arrived in Chili (then an appanage of the Spanish Crown) they were
particularly well treated at Santiago. “We found,” says Byron, “many
Spaniards here that had been taken by Commodore Anson, and had been for
some time prisoners on board the _Centurion_. They all spoke in the
highest terms of the kind treatment they had received; and it is natural
to imagine that it was chiefly owing to that laudable example of humanity
our reception here was so good.” They even said that they should not have
been sorry had he taken them to England.(16) Anson’s prize on this
occasion had on board large quantities of sugar, cloth, and some little
cotton and tobacco; and in addition, that which was more valuable, several
trunks of wrought plate, and over _two tons_ of dollars (“twenty-three
serons of dollars, each weighing upwards of 200 lbs. avoirdupois”).
Shortly afterwards, Anson noted two sail, one of which appeared to be “a
very stout ship,” and which made for them, whilst the other stood off. By
evening they were within pistol-shot of the nearest, “and had a broadside
ready to pour into her, the gunners having their matches in their hands,
and only waiting for orders to fire.” The ship was hailed in Spanish, when
the welcome voice of Mr. Hughes, lieutenant of the _Tryal_, answered in
English that it was a prize taken by him a couple of days before. She had
tried to escape in the night by showing no lights, but an opening or
crevice in one of the ports had betrayed them. She was a merchantman of
about 600 tons, and had much the same cargo as that taken by Anson, but
not so much money on board. Her capture at that moment was invaluable, for
the _Tryal_ had sprung her mainmast, and was altogether unseaworthy. She
was condemned, and her crew, guns, and stores, with some additions, were
put on board the prize, now appropriately christened _The Tryal’s Prize_.
The sloop herself was scuttled and sunk. Shortly afterwards a third prize
was taken, on which several Spanish lady passengers were found, who hid
themselves in corners, till assured of honourable and courteous treatment.
Anson ordered that they should retain their own cabins, with all the other
conveniences and privileges they had enjoyed before, and ordered the
Spanish pilot, the second in command, to stay with them as their guardian
and protector. A fourth prize, of little value to the captors, as they
could not dispose of much of the cargo in any way, but a clear loss to the
Spaniards of 400,000 dollars, was taken a few days afterwards.
Next followed the capture of Paita, Peru, an important place in those
days, though it offered little or no resistance. When the sailors in
search of private pillage found the clothes of the Spaniards who had fled,
they were seized with an irresistible impulse to try them on; and soon
their dirty unmentionables and jackets were covered by embroidered clothes
and laced hats, not forgetting the bag-wig of the day. Those who could not
find men’s clothes put on women’s, and half the _Centurion’s_ crew were
transformed into masqueraders. The town was burned to the ground, after
treasure, in the shape of plate, dollars, and other coin, to the amount of
upwards of £30,000, had been taken, besides a number of valuable jewels,
and plunder generally, which became the property of the immediate captors.
A vessel in the harbour was taken, and five others scuttled and sunk. The
Spaniards, in their representations sent to the Court of Madrid, estimated
their total loss at a million and a half of dollars. After Anson left
Paita, there were dissensions on board regarding the miscellaneous
plunder, between those who had been ordered ashore and those whose duty
obliged them to remain on board. The Commodore ruled that it should be put
into one common fund, to which he gave his entire share, and then divided
impartially, in proportion to each man’s rank and commission. To all but a
few greedy grumblers this was perfectly acceptable, and the discontent,
which might easily have been fanned into mutiny, was quashed at once.
[Illustration: SURRENDER OF THE “CARMELO.”]
A day or two afterwards, they rejoined the _Gloucester_, and found that
its captain had taken a couple of small prizes, one of them with a cargo
of wine, brandy, and olives in jars, and about £7,000 in specie. The
people on the other, which was hardly more than a large boat or launch,
pleaded poverty, and that their cargo was only cotton. The men on the
barge had surprised them at dinner upon pigeon pie served on silver
dishes, and suspicion was aroused, which subsided when some little
examination had been instituted. When the packages, however, were more
carefully examined on board the _Gloucester_, a considerable quantity of
doubloons and dollars, to the amount of near £12,000, was discovered
concealed among the cotton. Before leaving the South American coast, Anson
sent fifty-nine prisoners, in two well-equipped launches taken from his
prizes, to Acapulco, where they arrived safely, and spoke highly of the
treatment they had received.
Anson was now on his way to the China Seas, to intercept, if possible, the
Manilla galleon, of which he had received some tidings. On the voyage it
became necessary to abandon the _Gloucester_. Besides the loss of masts,
which were literally rotted out of her, she was tumbling to pieces from
sheer rottenness; and when her captain reported on her condition, she had
seven feet of water in the hold, although his officers and men had been
kept constantly at the pumps for the past twenty-four hours. Her crew had
become greatly reduced in numbers, and out of her total complement of
ninety-seven, officers included, only sixteen men and eleven boys were
capable of keeping the deck. The removal of the _Gloucester’s_ people, and
such stores as could most easily be taken, occupied two days. It was with
difficulty that the prize-money taken in the South Seas was secured; the
prize goods were necessarily abandoned. “Their sick men, amounting to
nearly seventy, were conveyed into the boats with as much care as the
circumstances of that time would permit; but three or four of them expired
as they were hoisting them into the _Centurion_.” The _Gloucester_ was set
on fire in the evening, but did not blow up till six o’clock the following
morning.
At Tinian, one of the Ladrone Islands, Anson stopped some time, refreshing
his worn-out crew, and strengthening the ship. The island abounded in
cattle, hogs, and poultry, running wild; in oranges, limes, lemons,
cocoa-nuts, and bread-fruit. “The country did by no means resemble that of
an uninhabited and uncultivated place; but had much more the air of a
magnificent plantation, where large lawns and stately woods had been laid
out together with great skill, and where the whole had been so artfully
combined, and so judiciously adapted to the slopes of the hills and the
inequalities of the ground, as to produce a most striking effect, and to
do honour to the invention of the contriver.” These compliments to Nature
may often be paralleled in writers of the last century. When they had
dropped anchor, such was the weakness of the crew that it took them five
hours to furl their sails. “All the hands we could muster capable of
standing at a gun,” says the narrator, “amounted to no more than
seventy-one, most of whom, too, were incapable of duty, except on the
greatest emergencies. This, inconsiderable as it may appear, was the whole
force we could collect in our present enfeebled condition from the united
crews of the _Centurion_, the _Gloucester_, and the _Tryal_, which, when
we departed from England, consisted of near a thousand hands.” Some
Indians ashore fled when they landed, leaving their huts, one of which,
used as a large storehouse, was converted into a hospital for the sick,
one hundred and twenty-eight in number. Numbers of these were so helpless
that they had to be carried from the boats, the commodore assisting, as he
had before at Juan Fernandez, and the officers following suit. The poor
invalids soon felt the benefit of the abundant fresh fruits and water; and
although twenty-one were buried in the first and succeeding day, they did
not lose above ten more during the two months of their stay at the island.
One of the drawbacks of a stay at Tinian was the roadstead, which, with
its coral bottom, afforded a bad anchorage during the western monsoons.
This was convincingly proved to the people of the _Centurion_. In the
third week of September the wind blew with such fury that all
communication with the shore was cut off, as no boat could live in the sea
raised by it. The small bower cable, and afterwards their best bower,
parted. The waves broke over the devoted ship, and the long-boat, at that
time moored astern, was on a sudden canted so high that it broke the
transom of the commodore’s cabin on the quarter-deck, and was itself stove
to pieces, the poor boat-keeper, though extremely bruised, being saved
almost by a miracle. The end of all this was that the ship was driven to
sea, leaving Anson, several officers, and a great part of the crew on
shore, amounting in the whole to one hundred and thirteen persons. The
poor wretches on the ship expected each moment to be their last, as they
were altogether too few and weak to work a large vessel.
“The storm which drove the _Centurion_ to sea blew with too much
turbulence to permit either the commodore or any of the people on shore to
hear the guns which she fired as signals of distress; and the frequent
glare of the lightning had prevented the explosions from being observed;
so that when at daybreak it was perceived from the shore that the ship was
missing, there was the utmost consternation amongst them, for much the
greatest part of them immediately concluded that she was lost.” Anson,
whatever he thought himself, did all in his power to reason them out of
the idea, and immediately proposed that if she did not return in a few
days they should cut in half a small bark, a Spanish prize they had taken,
and lengthen her about twelve feet, which would enable her to carry them
all to China. After some days the men began to consider this their only
chance, and worked zealously at their allotted employments. These were
interrupted one day by “A sail!” being announced. Presently a second was
descried, which quite destroyed the conjecture that it was the ship
herself. The revulsion of feeling in Anson’s bosom was so strong, that for
once he was quite unmanned, and retired to his tent, with the bitter
feeling that now he could not hope to signalise the expedition by any
great exploit. He was, however, soon relieved by finding that the boats
were Indian proas, which, after cruising off the island for a time,
suddenly departed, and were lost to sight. The recital of the details
connected with the transformation of the bark would be tedious; suffice it
to say, that they had to manufacture many of the necessary tools, cut down
trees, and saw them into planks, and dig a dry dock, while others were
employed in collecting provisions. They were much mortified to find that
all the powder ashore did not amount to more than ninety charges. What if
the Spaniards should appear at this juncture?
However, in spite of all obstacles, they had proceeded so far with their
work as to have fixed upon a date for their departure from the island.
“But their project and labours were now drawing to speedier and happier
conclusion; for, on the 11th of October, in the afternoon, one of the
_Gloucester’s_ men, being upon a hill in the middle of the island,
perceived the _Centurion_ at a distance, and, running down with his utmost
speed towards the landing-place, he in the way saw some of his comrades,
to whom he hallooed out with great ecstasy, ‘The ship! the ship!’” It was
indeed the ship; and when Anson heard of it, we can well believe that he
broke through “the equable and unvaried character” he had hitherto
preserved. The men were in a perfect state of frenzy. A boat with eighteen
men, and fresh meats and fruits, was sent off to the _Centurion_, which
came to anchor next day. She had been nearly three weeks absent. The
chaplain who has left us the narrative of Anson’s voyage was on board at
the time. He describes their deplorable condition in a leaky ship, with
three cables hanging loose, from one of which dragged their only remaining
anchor; not a gun lashed or port closed; shrouds loose, and topmasts
unrigged, and no sails which could be set except the mizen. The pumps
alone gave employment for the whole of the available crew. “In these
exigencies,” says he, “no rank or office exempted any person from the
manual application and bodily labour of a common sailor. They eventually
raised their sheet anchor, which had been dragging at the bows, got up
their mainyard, and generally got the ship in something like sailing trim.
They were quite as rejoiced to see the island once more as were their
companions to see them.”
After a long stay at Macao, where the Chinese officials put all kinds of
obstacles in the way of refitting and provisioning his ship, Anson set
sail for the express purpose of intercepting the Manilla galleon or
galleons, which, indeed, had been the object of his long cruise off Mexico
and South America. The annual ship plying between Acapulco and Manilla,
and _vice versâ_, was always richly laden with the best the Spanish
colonies afforded, and all on board the _Centurion_ were now eager for the
fray. Anson determined to lay off Cape Spiritu Santo, Samal (one of the
Philippine group of islands), as the galleons always made that land first
on the voyage to Manilla. It was a month after they had gained the station
that the coveted prize hove in sight. “On this a general joy spread
through the whole ship.” The Spaniards had determined to risk the fight,
and it is needless to say that Anson was ready for them. He picked out
about thirty of his choicest marksmen, whom he distributed among the tops,
and they eventually did great execution. “As he had not hands enough
remaining to quarter a sufficient number to each great gun in the
customary manner, he therefore on his lower tier fixed only two men to
each gun, who were to be solely employed in loading it, whilst the rest of
his people were divided into different gangs of ten or twelve men each,
who were continually moving about the decks, to run out and fire such guns
as were loaded. By this management he was enabled to make use of all his
guns; and instead of whole broadsides, with intervals between them, he
kept up a constant fire without intermission; whence he doubted not to
procure very signal advantages. For it is common with the Spaniards to
fall down upon the decks when they see a broadside preparing, and to
continue in that posture till it is given; after which they rise again,
and presuming the danger to be for some time over, work their guns and
fire with great briskness, till another broadside is ready; but the firing
gun by gun, in the manner directed by the commodore, rendered this
practice of theirs impossible.” Several squalls of wind and rain about
noon often obscured the galleon from their sight; but when the weather
cleared up she was observed resolutely lying to, waiting her impending
doom. Towards one o’clock the _Centurion_ hoisted her colours, the enemy
being within gunshot. Anson noted that the Spaniards had neglected to
clear the decks, as they were still engaged in throwing overboard cattle
and lumber; and as all is supposed to be fair in war, he determined to
worry them at once, and ordered the chase-guns to be fired into them. The
galleon returned the fire with two of her stern chase-guns; “and the
_Centurion_ getting her sprit-sail-yard fore and aft, that if necessary
she might be ready for boarding, the Spaniards, in a bravado, rigged their
sprit-sail-yard fore and aft likewise. Soon after, the _Centurion_ came
abreast of the enemy, within pistol-shot, keeping to the leeward of them,
with a view of preventing their putting before the wind, and gaining the
port of Talapay, from which they were about seven leagues distant. And now
the engagement began in earnest, and for the first half-hour Mr. Anson
over-reached the galleon, and lay on her bow, where, by the great wideness
of his ports, he could traverse almost all his guns upon the enemy, whilst
the galleon could only bring a part of hers to bear. Immediately on the
commencement of the action, the mats with which the galleon had stuffed
her netting took fire, and burnt violently, blazing up half as high as the
mizen-top. This accident, supposed to be caused by the _Centurion’s_ wads,
threw the enemy into the utmost terror, and also alarmed the commodore,
for he feared lest the galleon should be burnt, and lest he himself might
suffer by her driving on board him. However, the Spaniards at last freed
themselves from the fire by cutting away the netting, and tumbling the
whole mass which was in flames into the sea. All this interval, the
_Centurion_ kept her first advantageous position, firing her cannon with
great regularity and briskness; whilst at the same time the galleon’s
decks lay open to her top-men, who, having at their first volley driven
the Spaniards from their tops, made prodigious havoc with their
small-arms, killing or wounding every officer but one that appeared on the
quarter-deck, and wounding in particular the general of the galleon
himself.”
Then for a little the _Centurion_ lost the superiority of her original
position; but still her grape-shot raked the Spaniard’s decks with such
cruel precision that they were covered with the dead and dying,
encumbering the movements of those still fighting, who kept up as brisk a
fire as they could. But the general himself was pretty nearly _hors de
combat_, while the Spanish officers were rushing hither and thither,
endeavouring vainly to keep the now disheartened men at their posts. They
made one last effort, pointed and fired five or six guns with more
precision than usual, and then yielded the contest. The galleon’s colours
had been singed off the ensign-staff in the beginning of the engagement,
so she had to haul down the royal standard from her main-top-gallant-mast
head, “the person who was employed to perform this office having been in
imminent peril of being killed, had not the commodore, who perceived what
he was about, given express orders to his people to desist from firing.”
And so the great _Nostra Signora de Cabadonga_ became Anson’s prize.
[Illustration: ANSON TAKING THE SPANISH GALLEON.]
And she was indeed a prize. She had on board 35,682 ounces of virgin
silver, 1,313,843 pieces of eight, besides some cochineal and other
trifles, which hardly counted in comparison with the specie. She was a
much larger vessel than the _Centurion_, and had five hundred and fifty
men, and thirty-six large guns, besides twenty-eight pedreroes each
carrying four-pound balls. During the action she had sixty-seven men
killed, and eighty-four wounded; whilst the _Centurion_ had only two
killed, and seventeen wounded. Shortly after the galleon had struck, an
officer came quietly to Anson, and told him the ship was on fire near the
powder-room. The commodore showed no emotion, and gave orders to a few in
regard to extinguishing it, which was happily done, without alarming the
crew or informing the enemy. The galleon was constituted by Anson a
post-ship in his Majesty’s navy, the command being given to his first
lieutenant, Mr. Saumarez. All but the officers and wounded of the
prisoners were kept in the hold of the _Centurion_, two guarded hatchways
being left open. As the Spaniards were two to one of the English, every
precaution was necessary, but otherwise they were treated as well as
possible. Unfortunately their allowance of water was necessarily small,
one pint per day, the crew only receiving a pint and a half; and although
not one died on the passage to the river of Canton, they were reduced to
ghastly skeletons when they were discharged. Anson refitted and sold the
galleon to the merchants of Macao, and, with about £400,000 worth of
Spanish treasure, sailed for England, where he arrived in safety. The
damage done by him to Spain was probably three or four times that
represented by the above amount. The great galleon was alone, with her
cargo, valued at a million and a half dollars; whilst the destruction of
Paita, and the minor Spanish prizes, with large parts of their cargoes,
were serious losses to Spain.