CHAPTER III.

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.

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.

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.

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.