As so often, his plan combined military skill and pantomime farce. The first half of his men advanced through the darkness towards Fort Ingles, firing in the air, cheering, and generally leaving the Spanish in no doubt as to their intentions. A second group, under Ensign Vidal, worked silently round to the inland flank of the forts uprooting part of a pallisade to make a rough bridge across the defensive ditch. These men moved with hardly a sound, any slight noise being drowned by their comrades in front of the fort. Moving softly over the rampart, they formed up among a group of trees and then opened a withering fire on the defenders of the fort from the rear. In the darkness and confusion, the Spanish commander did not wait to contest the issue as the attackers emitted wild Indian yells and charged forward. The garrison of Fort Ingles fled, running into the three hundred Spanish troops drawn up behind the fort and urging them into retreat as well. The Chileans followed hard, bayoneting their enemies, the pursuit being so close that when the gates of Fort Carlos were opened to receive the fugitives, the Chileans poured in after them. Fort Carlos was also abandoned, its garrison joining the general flight, the same bloodstained farce being repeated at Fort Amargos which commanded the western side of the great harbour entrance.
Before dawn, the defenders of the forts on the western side of the harbour had retreated into the Corral Castle, where they might have held out for some time. But morale was not good. They had lost about a hundred men dead and another hundred as prisoners in the rout. Colonel Hoyos, the commander of the castle had taken to the bottle, incoherent with rage and humiliation. Moreover, the castle was ideally placed for an evacuation by water across the harbour and even up the river to the town of Valdivia. A further incentive to this was that Cochrane's troops had captured the Spanish artillery on the height of Fort Chorocomayo and would almost certainly start bombarding the castle as soon as it was daylight. Those who could escape did so, and the remainder of the garrison, including Colonel Hoyos, surrendered to Major Miller. The entire operation had cost Cochrane seven dead and nineteen wounded.
The next day, the Intrepido and the Montezuma braved the fire of the eastern forts and entered harbour. Cochrane ordered two hundred of his men to embark for an attack across the harbour on the forts still remaining in Spanish hands. At the same time, the O'Higgins, by now leaking very badly, appeared off the harbour mouth. This was the final blow to the defence of the eastern half, since there was no equivalent strongpoint to Corral Castle on that side. Assuming that the O'Higgins brought fresh reinforcements, the commanders of the eastern forts abandoned them, withdrawing up the river to Valdivia itself. As a matter of fact, the O'Higgins brought no reinforcements at all. The ship herself was going down steadily and Cochrane ordered her to be beached at once until repairs could be carried out. None the less, he had calculated that the sight of a 50-gun warship would break the last resolve of the Spaniards, and in this he had been right.
On 6 February, he embarked his men on the Montezuma and the Intrepido to follow up his victory by a river attack on Valdivia itself. The Intrepido ran aground in the channel and had to be abandoned but it hardly mattered. Before he could reach the town, Cochrane was greeted by a party of men under a flag of truce. The Spanish army and the governor of the town had laid hands on whatever they could carry and had fled. The great military base in the southern half of the continent, the one remaining stronghold within Chile itself from which the Spanish might have launched their great counter-offensive, had been taken at a cost of twenty-six casualties.
The booty which fell into the hands of the Chileans at Valdivia was considerable. Cochrane counted fifty tons of gunpowder, 10,000 cannon shot, 170,000 musket cartridges, 128 pieces of artillery, a "large quantity" of small arms, and the ship Dolores which was sold at Valparaiso for 20,000 dollars. It was loot, or prize money, of the most promising proportions.11
On 27 February, Cochrane returned to Valparaiso. The Ministry of Marine had assumed that the attack on Valdivia would be defeated and, as a matter of face saving, they had carefully prepared charges of insubordination against him for having sailed there without proper authority. As news of the victory and of a passing attack on the Spanish fort at Chiloe, spread through Valparaiso and Santiago, the government hastily withdrew its charges and publicly congratulated Cochrane on his "admirably arranged plan" and its "most daring and valorous execution".12
But the matter of prize money was no less productive of ill-feeling in Chile than it had been in England. Cochrane and his men received "nothing but promises". But in this case there was a remedy, which he exploited by retaining everything he had seized at Valdivia despite threats of prosecution for illegal detention of national property. Cochrane answered this, on 14 May, by offering O'Higgins his resignation as commander of the Chilean navy. This produced consternation and further promises of payment for the squadron. Cochrane himself was awarded 67,000 dollars and an estate at Rio Clara in the south of the country. He refused the estate, bought a hacienda of his own at Herradura, about eight miles from Valparaiso, and withdrew his resignation. When he offered to pay for the construction of a naval base for the Chilean navy at this place, he was warned not to start on the project in any way. The authorities were not prepared to pay anything towards it and, as he discovered, they showed their displeasure by holding back much of the prize money.
On 16 July, Cochrane offered his resignation again, supported two days later by twenty-three of the Chilean navy's European and American officers. By now, Cochrane's two English rivals, the captains Guise and Spry, were in open rebellion against him. Indeed, he had put Guise under arrest for direct disobedience to orders and was awaiting the arrangements for a court-martial which he hoped would secure the offender's removal from the service.
The Minister of Marine, Jose" Zentano, wrote to Cochrane and begged him not to resign at this point. Cochrane's resignation would "involve the future operations of the arms of liberty in the New World in certain ruin; and ultimately replace in Chile, your adopted home, that tyranny which your Lordship abhors, and to the annihilation of which your heroism has so greatly contributed."
Cochrane cared little for Zentano, but he also received private letters from San Martin and O'Higgins, "begging me to continue in command of the naval forces and assuring me that there should be no further cause for complaint".13
From Cochrane's own point of view, there were strong enough reasons for remaining in his command. Setting aside his indignation over the question of prize money, he believed strongly in the Chilean cause. Personally, he had a great admiration for O'Higgins, whom he exempted from any part in the niggardly treatment of the naval squadron. Most important of all, there was nowhere else in the world, at the time, where he could exercise his supreme gifts as a naval commander. The purchase of the hacienda had been a gesture of commitment to the Chilean cause and to his continuing part in it. As Sir James Mackintosh informed the House of Commons, Cochrane now stood before the eyes of the world.
Lord Cochrane is such a miracle of nautical skill and courage; his cause of banishment from his country is so lamentable - his adventures have been so romantic - and his achievements so splendid, that no Englishman can read them without pride, that such things have been done by his countryman; and without solemn concern that such talents and genius should be lost to the land that gave them birth.14
For Cochrane, there was a final and immediate reason which made his departure from Chile unlikely. The capture of Valdivia had removed the greatest threat to the young republic so far as the south was concerned. To the north, however, the Spanish still held the long coastal strip of Peru, by virtue of the garrison at Lima and the access to it by means of the neighbouring port of Callao. It was at Callao that the most powerful ships of the Spanish squadron were concentrated and Zentano was right when he warned Cochrane that this base was enough for the Spanish to reverse the whole course of the revolution in Chile itself.
In Santiago and in Valparaiso, preparations went ahead for the decisive battle of the war.
It was proposed that the entire weight of the Chilean army and navy should be thrown against Lima and Callao under the joint command of General San Martin ashore and Cochrane at sea. The army would be carried as far as possible by sea, and then the double attack would commence. To placate the foreign seamen and their officers, San Martin signed a public promise that all arrears of pay would be made good on "my entry into Lima", a pledge also signed by Cochrane as witness.15
On 21 August 1820, the squadron with 4200 troops on board put to sea from Valparaiso, among the cheers of the inhabitants fining the shore. There had already been a less obtrusive departure. Believing the climax of the war was at hand, Cochrane had despatched a confidential messenger, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles, to a very different destination. Charles had served under Sir Robert Wilson in Egypt, and had made the acquaintance of several participants in that campaign. At Cochrane's instigation, he was about to renew one of those acquaintanceships by setting out on a long and momentous voyage to St Helena. But the dream of a great Napoleonic Empire in South America was never to be realised. By the time that Colonel Charles reached St Helena, the health of the exiled Emperor had begun its long and irreversible decline. His deterioration had already gone so far that there was nothing for Colonel Charles to do but to return to Valparaiso.16
The problems of Cochrane's attack on Lima began early. San Martin, as commander-in-chief of the army, informed him that the troops would go ashore at Truxillo, a considerable distance from their objective. Cochrane was disconcerted by this, believing that the landing should have been swift and close to the targets, enabling rapid and simultaneous attacks to be made on Lima by land and Callao by sea. He saw no point in invading an area where, as he put it, "the army could have gained no advantage, nor, indeed, have found anything to do, except to remain there safe from any attack by the Spaniards".17
It was the beginning of a long, final quarrel between the two commanders. San Martin might be an experienced leader in the struggle against Spain, but by Cochrane's standards he exhibited caution to a degree which approached cowardice.
In the event, San Martin revised his plan and went ashore with his army at Pisco, which was closer to the objectives, although still some one hundred and fifty miles short. He remained there for seven weeks, to Cochrane's fury, even declining to attack Pisco itself, which was defended by no more than three hundred Spanish troops. Then at length on 28 October, San Martin re-embarked his army on the transports for the last stage of the voyage to Callao. He was prompted by news that the province of Guayaquil, hearing that an army of liberation was on the way, had declared itself independent without further ado. However, when the squadron reached Callao, San Martin thought better of putting his army ashore there, and insisted on being taken back to Ancon, thirty miles to the north.
Irritated beyond endurance by San Martin's conduct of the attack, Cochrane returned with the O'Higgins, the Independencia, and the Lautaro to the waters off Callao. For San Martin's benefit, he announced that he was going to blockade the port so that Lima would not be reinforced by sea. What he had in mind was something more dramatic, a plan which he had no intention of confiding to San Martin. The latter was settling down peacefully at Ancon, a port which the Spanish hardly bothered to defend, since, as Major Miller observed, it consisted only of "a few fishermen's huts, half buried in the drifted sand".18
On 3 November, Cochrane began his close reconnaissance of the harbour of Callao, using the O'Higgins for the purpose. In one sortie, he outmanoeuvred the defences by sailing between the island of San Lorenzo and the mainland, through the Boqueron passage. The citizens of Callao crowded the shore to watch, knowing that the channel was suitable only for vessels of less than fifty tons. The Spanish gunboats waited to close on the wreck of the 50-gun warship. Cochrane's secretary, W. B. Stevenson noted the "utter astonishment" of the spectators as Cochrane brought his flagship through the narrow rocky channel with as little concern as if he had been handling a rowing boat. It was a show of seamanship designed to undermine the morale of the enemy. But it was more than that. He was now certain that neither the Venganza nor the Prueba were anywhere near. Callao was defended by shore-batteries, a floating boom, and most important of all, by the Esmeralda. The 44-gun frigate was the fastest and most powerful Spanish warship on the Pacific coast. Her destruction would be a decisive factor in loosening the grip of the enemy on the garrison towns. But if she could be captured intact, and incorporated into the Chilean navy, the advantage would swing so far in favour of Cochrane and his men that Spanish power in Chile and Peru might never be re-established.19
Like the attack on Valdivia, the only positive advantage which the Chileans enjoyed was that no one would believe them foolish enough to attempt to "cut out" the Esmeralda. So far as the Spanish possessed a "pocket battleship", she was one, well able to give a good account of herself in an exchange with any of Cochrane's ships. Apart from this, she lay securely at anchor in Callao harbour, protected by three hundred pieces of artillery in the shore-batteries, by a strong harbour-boom with chain moorings, by twenty-seven gunboats and several armed block-ships.
On 5 November, during the afternoon, Cochrane announced to the crews of his ships that he was about to strike "a mortal blow" at Spanish sea power in the Pacific. There was a surfeit of volunteers, perhaps impelled by his promise that, "The value of all the vessels captured in Callao will be yours." He chose 160 seamen and 80 marines, preparing to make the attack that night.
The men embarked in fourteen small boats which had been lowered and assembled alongside the O'Higgins. Cochrane himself went in the leading boat. All his other ships were out of sight and even the flagship had been anchored far enough out to sea to put the Spanish defenders off their guard. When the action should begin, he judged that it might be very confused and close-fought. Each man was therefore issued with a pistol and a cutlass, most suitable for hand-to-hand fighting, while the entire attacking force was dressed in white with blue bands on their left arms to identify friend and foe.
Like so many actions of its kind, the cutting out of the Esmeralda was over almost before the defenders realised that it was in earnest. Cochrane, timing it, noted that it lasted no more than quarter of an hour from start to finish. But before the action began, there was a long preliminary from about 10 p.m. to midnight, during which the loaded boats pulled silently across the dark water to a small gap in the harbour boom. The little craft were grouped into two divisions, under Cochrane's overall command, the first under his flag-captain, Captain Crosbie, the second under his most vehement critic, Captain Guise of the Lautaro.
As the flotilla glided past the boom, Cochrane in the bows of the first boat, a sharp challenge rang across the dark surface of the anchorage and the unwelcome silhouette of a Spanish gun-boat appeared ahead of them. Instead of answering, Cochrane ordered his oarsmen to bring him alongside the boat, a course which evidently impressed the Spanish commander as being that of submission. As they came alongside, Cochrane rose to his feet and addressed the commander.
"Silence or death!" he said softly. "Another word and I’ll put you every one to the sword!"
By the time that the commander could think of a response, he found his launch surrounded by fourteen boatloads of armed men and the initiative had passed from him. Cochrane with the leading boats was already making for the Esmeralda.
There were two neutral warships anchored off Callao, both destined to play an innocent part in Cochrane's plan. The first was the United States frigate Macedonian, the second was the Royal Navy frigate Hyperion. The sentry at the gangway of the Macedonian hailed Cochrane's boats as they passed but, as W. B. Stevenson saw, the man was "immediately hushed" by the American officer of the watch. As Stevenson's boat passed the Macedonian, "many of her officers hung over the bulwarks, cheered us in whispers, wishing us success, and wishing also that they themselves could join us". There were no cheers and no good wishes from H.M.S. Hyperion. Indeed, her sentries continued to hail Cochrane's boats with all the power
of their lungs, as though determined to alert the Spanish defenders.
Despite this, Cochrane's boat reached the side of the Esmeralda, still undetected by the watch. While he led the boarding party on one side of the ship, his rival Captain Guise led a second attack on the opposite side. But though the guards on the Esmeralda had noticed nothing as yet, they were fully alerted by the sound of Cochrane and his men boarding the ship by the main-chains. Cochrane raised himself to the level of the deck only to be met by a blow from the sentry's musket-butt. Losing his hold, he fell heavily into the boat below, driving the thole-pin, on which the oar rested, into his back near the spine. It was an injury which was to cause him considerable pain for years to come.
At the moment, however, he pulled himself up and began to climb the side of the Esmeralda once more. This time, he contrived to level his pistol and shoot down the sentry before the man could use his unwieldy musket again. The sentry on the far side of the boat turned and fired, Cochrane returning the fire at once with his pistol and killing the man outright. Then he broke the silence by turning to the boat-crew behind him and shouting, "Up, my lads! She's ours!"
As it proved, this was an extremely optimistic view of the situation. The Spanish crew had been sleeping at their guns, ready to defend the Esmeralda at a moment's notice. Even with Cochrane's seamen and marines, swarming on to the deck at every point, the defence was by no means overwhelmed. The Spanish commander withdrew his men to the forecastle, from which they swept the deck of the frigate with musket fire. Cochrane and Guise, struggling through the battle from opposite sides of the ship, met in the middle of the deck and, briefly forgetting their dislike of one another, exchanged congratulations. Hardly had this happened when a shot from the defenders of the forecastle hit Cochrane in the thigh. The bullet had evidently gone through the fleshy part and he contented himself with binding a handkerchief round his leg. Limping to the quarter-deck, he stood on one leg, perched on a gun, and laid the injured leg on the hammock netting. From this point of vantage, he directed the attack on the forecastle.
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