Under Drake's Flag: A Tale of the Spanish Main

Thus ended the first successful resistance, to Spanish power, among the islands of the western seas.

The governor and his son then left for the city, and the forest men retired to what was now their country. Ned and Gerald impressed upon their allies the importance of observing, strictly, the conditions of peace; and at the same time of continuing their exercises in arms, and maintaining their discipline. They pointed out to them that a treaty of this kind, extorted as it were from one, and that the strongest of the contracting powers, was certain not to have long duration. The Spaniards would smart at the humiliation which had, in their opinion, befallen them; and although the fugitive clause might for some time act favorably, it was sure, sooner or later, to be a bone of contention. They impressed upon them also that although they might, as had been shown, achieve successes for a time, yet that in the long run the power of the Spaniards must prevail, and that nothing short of extermination awaited them; therefore he urged the strictest adherence to the treaty, and at the same time a preparedness for the recommencement of hostilities.

Some months passed without incident, and the relations between the little community in the mountains and the Spaniards became more pacific. The latter found that the natives, if left alone, did them no damage. Bad masters learned that a course of ill treatment of their slaves was certain to be followed by their flight, and upon the bad treatment being proved, these found shelter among the mountains. Upon the other hand, the owners who treated their slaves with kindness and forbearance found that, if these took to the mountains in a fit of restlessness, a shelter there was refused them. Upon the edge of the forest, patches of plantation ground made their appearance; and the treaty was, upon the whole, well observed on both sides.

It was about a year after they had taken to the hills that news reached the boys that an English ship had come into those waters. It was brought them across at an island?? by some Simeroons who had been where the English ship anchored. They said that it was commanded by Master John Oxenford. The boys knew him, as he had been on board Captain Francis Drake's ship during the last expedition, and they determined to make an effort to join him. He had, however, left the island before the natives started with the news; and they made an arrangement with them, to convey them across to that place, when it should be learned that the vessel was returning, or was again there.

It was not long before they were filled with grief at the news that reached them, although they felt not a little thankful that they had not been able to join Captain Oxenford, when he first reached the islands. This adventurous seaman had, after the return to England of Captain Francis Drake's expedition, waited for some time on shore; and then, fretting under forced inactivity–for Captain Drake had, for the time, abandoned any project which he had entertained of a return to the Spanish seas, and had engaged in a war in Ireland–determined to equip an expedition of his own, with the assistance of several of those who had sailed in the last voyage with him, and of some Devonshire gentlemen who thought that a large booty might be made out of the venture.

He equipped a sloop of 140 tons burden, and sailed for Darien. When he arrived at this isthmus, he laid up his ship and marched inland, guided by Indians. After traveling twelve leagues among the mountains, he came to a small river running down into the Pacific. Here he and his comrades built a boat, launched it in the stream, and dropped down into the bay of Panama. Then he rowed to the Isle of Pearls, and there captured a small barque, from Quito, with sixty pounds of gold. This raised the spirits of the adventurers, and six days later they took another barque, with a hundred and sixty pounds of silver. They then set off in quest of pearls. They searched for a few days, but did not find them in proportion to their expectations. They therefore determined to return, and re-entered the mouth of the river they had descended. Here they loosed the prizes they had taken, and let them go.

The delay at Pearl Island was a mistake, and a misfortune. Captain Oxenford should have known that the Spanish authorities of the mainland would, when they heard that a single boat's load of Englishmen was ravaging their commerce, make a great effort to capture him; and his attack should have been swift and determined, and his retreat made without a halt. The fortnight which had been allowed to slip away caused his ruin. The news of their presence speedily arrived at Panama. Captain Ortuga was dispatched with four barques in search of them and, falling in with the liberated prizes, learned the course that the English had taken. The river had three branches, and the Spaniard would have been much puzzled to know which to ascend; but the carelessness of the adventurers gave him a clue; for, as he lay with his boats, wondering which river he should ascend, he saw floating on the water large quantities of feathers. These were sufficient indications of a camp on the banks, and he at once followed that branch of the stream.

In four days he came upon the boat, which was hauled upon the sand, with only six men with her. They were lying asleep on the bank, and the coming of the Spaniards took them completely by surprise, and one of them was killed before he could make his escape into the woods. The rest got off. The Spaniards left twenty men to guard the boat, and with eighty others went up the country. Half a league away they found some huts, and in these the treasures of gold and silver which the English had captured were discovered.

Satisfied with having recovered these, Captain Ortuga was about to return to the river with his men; when Oxenford, with the English and two hundred Simeroons, attacked them. The Spaniards fought bravely, and the Simeroons would not stand against their fire. The English struggled desperately. Eleven of these were killed, and the Simeroons took to their heels. Oxenford and a few of his companions escaped, and made their way back towards the spot where they had left their ship.

News of what was going on had, however, been sent across from Panama to Nombre de Dios, and four barques from that port had put out, and had found and taken Oxenford's ship. A band of a hundred and fifty men scoured the mountains, and into the hands of these Captain Oxenford and his companions fell. All of them were executed on the spot; except Oxenford, the master, the pilot, and five boys. These were taken to Panama, where the three men were executed, the lives of the five boys being spared.

This news was a sore blow to the lads, who had hoped much to be able to reach the ship, and to return to England in her. The delay, however, was not long, for a few weeks afterwards came the news that another English ship was in those waters. A party of Simeroons offered to take Ned and Gerald thither in their boat, and they determined to avail themselves of the offer.

Great was the lamentation, among the community in the forest, when the news that their leaders were about to leave became known. The simple Indians assembled around them, and wept, and used every entreaty and prayer, to change their resolution. However, the boys pointed out to them that they had already been absent near three years from home; and that, as the settlers were now able to defend themselves, and had earned the respect of the Spaniards, they would, if they continued their present course of avoiding giving any cause of complaint to the whites, no doubt be allowed to live in peace. They had, too, now learned the tactics that should be pursued, in case of difficulty; and by adhering to these, the boys assured them that they might rely upon tiring out the Spaniards. Some of the negroes were in favor of retaining the English leaders by force, but this was objected to by the majority. Many of the Indians possessed gold, which had been the property of their ancestors before the arrival of the Spaniards; and some of these treasures were now dug up, and the boys were presented with a great store of pretty ornaments, and other workmanship of the natives. Much rough gold was also placed on board their canoe, and a great portion of the dwellers of the hills marched down at night with them to the point of embarkation, a lonely creek far from the settlement of the Spaniards, to bid them farewell.

The boys, themselves, were affected by the sorrow of their friends, and by the confidence which these had placed in them; and they promised that, should they return to those parts, they would assuredly pay a visit to them, again, in the hills. Before leaving, they had seen that two of the worthiest and wisest of the natives were chosen as leaders, and to these all the rest had sworn an oath, promising to obey their orders in all respects. They had constantly acted with the boys; and had, indeed, been their chief advisers in the matters internal to the tribe; and the lads had little doubt that, for some time at least, things would go well in the mountains. As to the ultimate power of the refugees to maintain their independence, this must, they felt, depend upon events beyond them. If the Spaniards were left at peace, and undisturbed by English adventurers or other troubles, there was little doubt, sooner or later, they would destroy the whole of the natives of this island, as they had destroyed them in almost every place where they had come in contact with them. However, the boys had the satisfaction of knowing that they had been the means of, at least, prolonging the existence of this band, and of putting off the evil day, perhaps for years to come.

The Simeroons paddled out from the creek and, hoisting the sail, the boat merrily danced over the water; and the boys felt their spirits rise, at the hope of seeing their countrymen, and hearing their native tongue again, after eighteen months passed, absolutely separate from all civilized communion.

After two days sailing and paddling, they reached the bay where the natives had reported the English ship to be lying; and here, to their great delight, they found the Maria, Captain Cliff, lying at anchor.

Ned and Gerald, when they explained who they were, were received with great joy and amazement. The story of their loss had been told, in England; and the captain, who came from the neighborhood where Gerald's father dwelt, reported that the family had long mourned him as dead. He himself was bent, not upon a buccaneering voyage–although, no doubt, if a rich ship had fallen into his hands he would have made no scruple in taking it–but his object was to trade with the natives, and to gather a store of such goods as the islands furnished, in exchange for those of English make. He had, too, fetched slaves from the western coast of Africa, and had disposed of them to much advantage; and the ship was now about to proceed on her way home, each man's share, of the profits of the expedition, amounting to a sum which quite answered his expectations.

It was two months later before the boys, to their great delight, again saw the hills behind Plymouth. None who had seen them embark in the Swanne would have recognized, in the stalwart young fellows who now stepped ashore on the hove, the lads who then set sail. Nearly three years had passed. The sun of the tropics had burnt their faces almost to a mahogany color Their habit of command, among the natives, had given them an air and bearing beyond their years; and though Ned was but eighteen, and Gerald a little older, they carried themselves like men of mature years.

It had been, indeed, no slight burden that they had endured. The fighting which had formed the first epoch of their stay in the island, serious as it had been, had been less wearing to them than the constant care and anxiety of the subsequent quiet time. The arrival of each fugitive slave was a source of fresh danger, and it had often needed all their authority to prevent the younger, and wilder, spirits of their little community from indulging in raids upon the crops of the Spaniards.

Once in Plymouth, the lads said goodbye to each other, promising to meet again in a few days. Each then proceeded to his home. Ned, indeed, found that he had a home no longer; for on reaching the village he found that his father had died, a few months after his departure; and a new pedagogue had taken his place, and occupied the little cottage.

The shock was a great one, although hardly unexpected, for his father's health had not been strong; and the thought that he would not be alive, when he returned, had often saddened Ned's mind during his absence. He found, however, no lack of welcome in the village. There were many of his school friends still there, and these looked with astonishment and admiration on the bronzed, military-looking man, and could scarce believe that he was their playmate, the Otter.

Here Ned tarried a few days, and then, according to his promise to Gerald, started for the part of the country where he lived, and received a most cordial welcome from the father and family of his friend.

Chapter 10: Southward Ho!

Upon making inquiries, Ned Hearne found that Captain Drake had, upon the return of his expedition, set aside the shares of the prize money of Gerald Summers, himself, and the men who were lost in the wreck of the prize, in hopes that they would some day return to claim them. Upon the evidence given by Gerald and himself of the death of the others, their shares were paid, by the bankers at Plymouth who had charge of them, to their families; while Ned and Gerald received their portions.

Owing to the great mortality which had taken place among the crews, each of the lads received a sum of nearly a thousand pounds, the total capture amounting to a value of over a million of money. As boys, they each received the half of a man's share. The officers, of course, had received larger shares; and the merchants who had lent money to get up the expedition gained large profits.

Ned thought, at first, of embarking his money in the purchase of a share in a trading vessel, and of taking to that service; but, hearing that Captain Drake intended to fit out another expedition, he decided to wait for that event, and to make one more voyage to the Spanish main, before determining on his future course. Having, therefore, his time on his hands, he accepted the invitation of the parents of his three boy friends, Tom Tressilis, Gerald Summers, and Reuben Gail. He was most warmly welcomed, for both Tom and Gerald declared that they owed their lives to him. He spent several weeks at each of their homes, and then returned to Plymouth, where he put himself into the hands of a retired master mariner, to learn navigation and other matters connected with his profession, and occupied his spare time in studying the usual branches of a gentleman's education.

It was some months before Captain Francis returned from Ireland, but when he did so, he at once began his preparations for his next voyage. The expedition was to be on a larger scale than that in which he had formerly embarked, for he had formed the resolve to sail round Cape Horn, to coast along north to the Spanish settlements upon the great ocean he had seen from the tree top in the Isthmus of Darien; and then, if all went well, to sail still further north, double the northern coasts of America, and to find some short way by which English ships might reach the Pacific. These projects were, however, known to but few, as it was considered of the utmost importance to prevent them from being noised abroad, lest they might come to the ears of the Spaniards, and so put them upon their guard.

In spite of the great losses of men upon the former expedition, the number of volunteers who came forward, directly Captain Drake's intention to sail again to the Indies was known, was greatly in excess of the requirements. All, however, who had sailed upon the last voyage, and were willing again to venture, were enrolled, and Captain Drake expressed a lively pleasure at meeting Ned Hearne and Gerald Summers, whom he had given up as lost.

The expenses of the expedition were defrayed partly from the funds of Captain Drake and his officers, partly by moneys subscribed by merchants and others who took shares in the speculation. These were termed adventurers. Ned embarked five hundred pounds of his prize money in the venture, as did each of his three friends.

He was now nineteen, and a broad, strongly-built young fellow. His friends were all somewhat older, and all four were entered by Captain Francis as men, and ranked as "gentlemen adventurers," and would therefore receive their full share of prize money.

On the 12th of November, 1577, the fleet sailed out of Plymouth Sound amid the salutes of the guns of the fort there. It consisted of five ships: the Pelican, of 100 tons, the flagship, commanded by Captain General Francis Drake; the Elizabeth, 80 tons, Captain John Winter; the Marigold, a barque of 30 tons, Captain John Thomas; the Swan, a flyboat of 50 tons, Captain John Chester; and the Christopher, a pinnace of 15 tons, Captain Thomas Moore.

The voyage began unfortunately, for, meeting a headwind, they were forced to put into Falmouth, where a tempest ill-treated them sorely. Some of the ships had to cut away their masts, and the whole were obliged to put back into Plymouth, to refit, entering the harbor in a very different state to that in which they had left it, a fortnight before. Every exertion was made and, after a few days' delay, the fleet again set sail.

They carried an abundance of stores, of all kinds, together with large quantities of fancy articles, as presents for the savage people whom they might meet in their voyaging. The second start was more prosperous than the first and, after touching at various points on the west coast of Africa, they shaped their way to the mouth of the La Plata, sailing through the Cape de Verde Islands, where their appearance caused no slight consternation among the Portuguese. However, as they had more important objects in view, they did not stop to molest any of the principal towns, only landing at quiet bays to procure a fresh supply of water, and to obtain fruit and vegetables, which in those days, when ships only carried salt provisions, were absolutely necessary to preserve the crews in health. All were charmed with the beauty and fertility of these islands, which were veritable gardens of tropical fruits, and they left these seas with regret.

The fleet reached the La Plata in safety, but made no long stay there; for the extreme shallowness of the water, and the frequency and abundance of the shoals in the river, made the admiral fear for the safety of his ships; and accordingly, after a few days' rest, the anchors were weighed and the fleet proceeded down the coast. For some time they sailed without adventure, save that once or twice, in the storms they encountered, one or other of the ships were separated from the rest.

After several weeks' sailing, they put into the Bay of Saint Julian, on the coast of Patagonia. Here the crews landed to obtain water. Soon the natives came down to meet them. These were tall, active men, but yet far from being the giants which the Spaniards had represented them, few of them being taller than a tall Englishman. They were dressed in the scantiest clothing–the men wearing a short apron made of skin, with another skin as a mantle over one shoulder; the women wearing a kind of petticoat, made of soft skin. The men carried bows and arrows and spears, and were painted strangely–one half the head and body being painted white, the other black. Their demeanor was perfectly friendly, and Captain Drake, fearing no harm, walked some distance inland, and many of those not engaged in getting water into the boats also strolled away from the shore.

Among those who rambled farthest were Ned and Tom Tressilis, together with another gentleman adventurer, named Arbuckle. When they left Captain Francis, the armorer, who had brought a bow on shore with him, was showing the natives how much farther our English bow could carry than the native weapon.

Wondering what the country was like beyond the hills, the little party ascended the slope. Just as they reached the top, they heard a shout. Looking back, they saw that all was confusion.

The string of the armorer's bow had snapped, and the natives, knowing nothing of guns, believed that the party were now unarmed. As the armorer was restringing his bow, one of the natives shot an arrow at him, and he fell, mortally wounded. One standing near now raised his arquebus; but before he could fire, he too was pierced by two arrows, and fell dead. The admiral himself caught up the arquebus, and shot the man who had first fired.

The little party on the hill had been struck with amazement and consternation at the sudden outburst, and were recalled to a sense of their danger by the whiz of an arrow, which struck Master Arbuckle in the heart; and at the same moment a dozen of the savages made their appearance, from among the trees below them. Seeing the deadliness of their aim, and that he and Tom would be shot down at once, before they could get to close quarters, Ned turned to fly.

"Quick, Tom, for your life!"

Fortunately, they stood on the very top of the ascent, so that a single bound backwards took them out of sight and range of their enemies. There was a wood a few hundred yards inland, apparently of great extent, and towards this the lads ran at the top of their speed. The savages had to climb the hill and, when they reached its crest, the fugitives were out of bow-shot range.

A yell broke from them as they saw the lads, but these had made the best use of their time, and reached the wood some two hundred yards ahead of their pursuers. Ned dashed into the undergrowth and tore his way through it, Tom close at his heels. Sometimes they came to open spaces, and here each time Ned changed the direction of their flight, choosing spots where they could take to the underwood without showing any sign, such as broken boughs, of their entrance.

After an hour's running the yells and shouts, which had at first seemed close behind, gradually lessened, and were now but faintly heard. Then, utterly exhausted, the lads threw themselves on the ground. In a few minutes, however, Ned rose again.

"Come, Tom," he said, "we must keep on. These fellows will trace us with the sagacity of dogs; but, clever as they may be, it takes time to follow a track. We must keep on now. When it gets dark, which will be in another hour or so, they will be able to follow us no longer, and then we can take it easily."

"Do as you think best, Ned. You are accustomed to this kind of thing."

Without another word they started off at a run again, keeping as nearly as they could a straight course; for Ned's experience in forest life enabled him to do this, when one unused to woodcraft would have lost all idea of direction. The fact, however, that the mosses grew on the side of the trees looking east, was guide enough for him; for he knew that the warm breezes from the sea would attract them, while the colder inland winds would have an opposite effect.

Just as it was getting dark they emerged from the wood, and could see, stretching far before them, an undulating and almost treeless country.

"Fortunately there has been no rain for some time, and the ground is as hard as iron," Ned said. "On the damp soil under the trees they will track our steps, but we shall leave no marks here; and in the morning, when they trace us to this spot, they will be at fault."

So saying, he struck off across the country. For some hours they walked, the moon being high and enabling them to make their way without difficulty. At last they came upon a clump of bushes, and here Ned proposed a halt. Tom was perfectly ready, for they had now walked and run for many hours, and both were thoroughly fatigued; for after so long a voyage, in a small ship, they were out of condition for a long journey on foot.

"The first thing to do is to light a fire," Ned said; "for it is bitterly cold."

"But how do you mean to light it?"