by Scott Ridley
Exploring the mythical strait was important enough for Martinez to suddenly shift the carpenters, caulkers, and others from the crash effort on the port’s defenses. They were set to work on the Northwest American to prepare a journey to Juan de Fuca. Although only a year old, the schooner’s bottom was not sheathed in copper and had suffered extensive damage from worms and rot. She was hauled out on the Yuquot beach and careened, and in less than a week she was relaunched. Martinez had her towed alongside the Princesa and blessed and rechristened as the Santa Gertrudis la Magna, a name he felt suited a ship of discovery, and one that honored his distant and long-patient wife, Dona Gertrudis Gonzalez de Martinez.
On Sunday, June 21, Martinez held a special dinner to celebrate the ship and crew at the start of what he hoped would be a historic voyage. He invited Kendrick and Gray, the British captain Thomas Hudson, and all their officers. Kendrick offered Davis Coolidge to accompany the schooner as a pilot. Coolidge had previous experience in the strait with the Washington, and for the benefit of the American expedition he would be able to note anything the Spanish found. Martinez accepted the offer and Coolidge joined the Spanish crew. After the dinner, the Santa Gertrudis was towed out of Friendly Cove and set sail from the sound at 4 P.M.
Following the departure of the Santa Gertrudis, and feeling triumphant about what the world would soon hear, Martinez decided to stage a ceremony marking Spain’s possession of San Lorenzo de Nootka. He planned it as a grand pageant and invited the Americans, the captive Northwest American officers, and the native chiefs to attend.
As the Spanish settlement took shape, gun emplacements covered both the entrance to Nootka Sound and the inside of Friendly Cove. (Drawing by José Cardero)
The morning of Wednesday, June 24, dawned warm and clear. The ten cannons were in place at San Miguel. The hut on the hill for storing powder and ball and arms was complete. A large wooden cross had been hewn from timbers and engraved with the names of Jesus Christ and King Carlos III and the dates of 1774 (when Martinez said he had first entered this sound) and the present year, 1789. Although the commandant’s house had not been completed, yellow banners and flags were raised from the structure.
Martinez went ashore at 9 A.M., and before his assembled officers and chaplains and the entire garrison, he declared formal possession of the port of San Lorenzo, its coasts and adjacent islands, all in the name of His Most Catholic Majesty Don Carlos III. A document of possession was placed in a bottle that was stoppered with pitch and buried at the foot of a low stony hill on the beach. As the towering cross was hauled up into place, Fray Severo Patero delivered the church’s blessing of these acts.
Kendrick and his officers, as well as the British sailors, watched the ceremony, which ended with the troops firing a volley. The Princesa, the San Carlos, and the bastion of San Miguel answered with a salute of fifteen guns, and when Martinez returned aboard ship, another round of cannon was fired. Men posted in the rigging gave seven cheers for the king, followed by cheers Martinez had requested from the Americans and the British. The exuberant Spanish commander then served a banquet for his officers, the friars, and the foreigners, firing more salvos and raising further cheers to the king.
ON THE MORNING OF SUNDAY, JUNE 28, at 8 A.M., the Lady Washington and the Columbia came down to Yuquot and anchored in Friendly Cove. Thomas Hudson’s Princess Royal was there as well, preparing to depart. Unaware of the approach of the Argonaut, Martinez granted Hudson leave with a stern warning not to trade south of the Alaskan waters of Prince William Sound. If he was found below that region, his ship would be taken.
After being towed out of the sound on July 2, the Princess Royal fell becalmed in a listless summer fog. Perhaps Hudson stalled, hoping to warn the Argonaut to seek out another harbor. He missed her arrival by hours.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Golden Fleece
Nootka Sound
JULY 1789
MORE THAN A MILE AT SEA, a voice called out of the dark asking in Spanish for permission to come aboard. The watch on the Argonaut peered into the foggy blackness and sent for the captain, who came up as a launch filled with men slipped alongside the ship. Standing in the boat under the lamplight was a large, balding man, dressed like a common sailor. He claimed he was the commandant of the Spanish settlement at Nootka. James Colnett, a Royal Navy lieutenant and commander for Meares, had cruised these waters the past two seasons and knew of no Spanish settlement here. Blustering with a distinct air of superiority, he challenged the sailor, who seemed to be an imposter. A second boat then appeared, and two Americans, the Columbia‘s supercargo, Richard Howe, and first mate, Joseph Ingraham, assured him that this was indeed Captain Martinez, the Spanish commandant at Nootka.
Colnett bristled at the prospect of Spain claiming the sound and wasn’t sure what to think. The past few hours had grown increasingly confusing. Before sunset, two canoes had come offshore to the ship with a garbled warning about a captured ship that he could not make sense of. Then, as the Argonaut approached Nootka’s rocky entrance, Colnett saw what he thought was the Princess Royal slowly heading south through the fog, or maybe it was an American sloop he had been told was on the coast. Colnett found now that it had been the Princess Royal.
Martinez gave him a letter from Thomas Hudson confirming the good treatment he had received from the Spanish commander. “Should you go into the Port,” Hudson assured Colnett, “I am confident the Commodore would order you every Assistance in his power as he had done me.” However, the letter mentioned that the Northwest American had been taken. Still puzzled, Colnett invited Martinez down to his cabin, where he examined his seemingly good-natured face in the lamplight as they talked.
The Americans came down to the cabin as well. After an exchange of pleasantries through the translator, Gabriel del Castillo, Colnett bluntly told Martinez that he was serving the Company of Free Commerce of London and his plan was to erect a fortified trading settlement at Nootka. “He was entrusted to prevent other nations from taking part in this fur trade, both in this port and in other harbors of the coast, and moreover he brought orders from his sovereign, the king of England, to take possession of the port of Nootka and its coast …” Martinez may have mused that the Argonaut was aptly named. As in the old myth, whoever controlled the treasured golden fleece would control the land.
Martinez informed him that this was the domain of Spain and observed Colnett’s expedition was a private venture; the Argonaut did not belong to King George, and Colnett did not have any authority to transact public business such as taking possession of land.
Colnett responded that he was a king’s officer, and insisted he could act in the king’s interest.
Martinez was already familiar with Britain’s tactic of blurring the line between private purpose and public authority as a way to extend territory through exploration and trade. In fact, there was a broad dispute between European nations as to what constituted a valid claim of possession. The common starting point was the ancient Roman law of terra nullius (“nobody’s land”), which had for centuries allowed an explorer to take possession of desired territory. Land not already claimed by a Christian prince was deemed “nobody’s land” by European courts. This meant that when a European nation took control of land considered terra nullius, the rights of any indigenous people, such as the Mowachaht, who had occupied the Nootka area for millennia, could be ignored. Any dispute over claimed territory was thus one purely between “Christian princes.”
Spain held that its fundamental rights to lands in the Western Hemisphere came from the papal grant of 1493 and formal acts of possession undertaken by its explorers. The British court rejected the pope’s authority and argued (when it was convenient) that land also had to be settled and used to have a proven claim of possession. Colnett held that Cook had first entered Nootka in 1778, which gave title for this coast to Britain, and that John Meares had purchased and built an outpost on the land at Yuquot a year before Martinez arrived.
Martinez informed him that he had been at Nootka before Cook, in 1774. His expedition had named the area San Lorenzo de Rada, and the local chief, Maquinna, could confirm that he had been there. He recited the evidence of the abalone shells and said that the Spanish silver spoons Cook wrote of finding here had been stolen from him. Further, he said that there was no British house at Yuquot when he arrived. Howe or Ingraham could confirm that the hut was pulled down after Meares left and that they had used the roof boards for firewood. Confronted with this information, Colnett shifted to a more concilatory tone and asked Martinez “in a friendly manner to permit him to construct a strong building for the security of his own person and those who accompanied him, so that they could take some precautions and be protected from irruptions, raids, and thievery of the Indians.”
“I divined his intentions,” Martinez said, “and answered him that I could under no consideration permit it, since it was contrary to the orders which I carried.”
Martinez was worried that Colnett would sail off to another spot. Unlike the Iphigenia, the Argonaut was a well-stocked ship that could establish a very substantial hidden outpost elsewhere on the coast. As Martinez later related to Viceroy Flores, if Colnett had carried out his designs, “we would have had a bad neighbor, and in time of war, an enemy at hand, to whose attacks Old and New California would be exposed on account of their weak defenses.”
Seeking a way around their impasse, Martinez turned on his charm and played at seduction. He had none of the usual brandy, ham, and sugar to offer. Instead, he appealed to the British captain’s sense of superiority. He told Colnett that he was in dire need of supplies and awaiting the long-overdue arrival of his supply ship, Aranzazu. Indeed, he had mistaken the sail of the Argonaut for that of his ship.
Colnett offered to supply whatever Martinez needed from the Argonaut‘s supplies. Martinez politely thanked him and at the same time offered “all the assistance in his power” to Colnett. He entreated Colnett to anchor in Friendly Cove where the Spanish vessels lay. But Colnett hesitated. Recognizing his anxiety at being lured into a trap, Martinez assured Colnett that he was “a man of honour, Nephew to the Vice king and Grandee of Spain.” Martinez continued that if he “would go in on those declarations of his honour” the Argonaut could depart whenever Colnett pleased.
“It was late and thick weather; I took his word and honour,” Colnett wrote later.
Colnett stayed below with Martinez in the cabin, talking and drinking as the American boat and the Spanish launch towed the Argonaut into the sound. Colnett had ordered his pilot, Robert Duffin, to keep the Argonaut outside the cove at Yuquot. Duffin either ignored him or was not able to separate from the Spanish launch without a confrontation. At midnight Kendrick was called from his cabin on the Columbia and watched the British ship enter Friendly Cove. The Argonaut’s bow was tied to the Princesa’s stern mooring, and her stern to the Columbia. Soon after, Howe and Ingraham returned aboard the Columbia and reported the argument between Martinez and Colnett.
Late into the night, Martinez kept up his drinking and friendly banter with Colnett, who was surprised when he came on deck to find his vessel in Friendly Cove under the guns of Fort San Miguel and secured between the Spanish frigate and an American ship. To soften the shock, Martinez made a show of granting Colnett permission to erect a tent onshore and replenish the Argonaut’s water and wood.
Colnett retired but did not sleep. He chastised his pilot, Robert Duffin, for disobeying orders and allowing the ship to be towed into the cove. And he criticized himself as well for having only two swivel guns mounted and his dozen cannons still stored in the hold. Just before departing the ship, the American Richard Howe had given him a second, more candid warning letter from Thomas Hudson. When he read it, Colnett found that the Iphigenia had been captured because her instructions were to make prizes of foreign vessels. He had to be very careful in revealing his own instructions. Looking for a way out of their predicament, Colnett took a few men over the side in his captain’s boat, rowing out of the calm dark cove and along the beach, scouting the Spanish gun emplacements at San Miguel and San Rafael, and returning before daylight. A guard Martinez had set to watch the British ship reported on Colnett’s movements the next morning.
From the Columbia, Kendrick looked out over his bow in the dawn light to see the Argonaut within a pistol shot of his deck. He knew that Martinez planned to take Meares’s command ship. The only question was whether the capture would be bloodless. There was no way Kendrick could get free of this, and he sent younger crew members to the shore camp and made certain his men were prepared. The atmosphere in Friendly Cove was tense as the pale sun rose, burning off the night’s fog.
The flags of the two Spanish ships hung limp in the damp stillness. The American sloop and brig had raised their flags, and onshore the
American crew, camped where Meares’s hut had stood, hoisted their red, white, and blue flag on a pole. Robert Duffin, who had been there the previous summer, looked at the crude Spanish forts atop Observatory and Hog Islands, and the buildings being constructed along the shore. He could see no sign of Meares’s house remaining where the Americans had a large sailcloth tent. Patches of trees near the shore had been clear-cut and the Mowachaht village seemed empty.
Aboard the Princesa, Martinez took offense that Colnett had not followed tradition by raising his flag as a sign of respect for the Spanish king. He sent an order to Colnett. A few minutes later, blue English flags were run up at the bow and stern. At the main masthead, a broad blue pennant with a white square in the center was raised, “giving us to understand he was an officer of high rank,” Martinez noted with greater irritation.
He sent a second message, inviting Colnett to breakfast and asking him to bring his ship’s papers. The Americans watched the messenger passing between the ships, and Colnett going aboard the Princesa. They knew that Martinez was toying with him.
Short on sleep, and in no mood to joust with the Spaniard, Colnett said he could not present the papers requested because his chests were in disorder, and that he would search for them. Martinez went back to the Argonaut with Colnett and followed him to his cabin. He noticed great rolls of sailcloth stowed below deck, and asked again why Colnett had come to Nootka. The sails were for a one-hundred-foot sloop (the Jason) whose frame was aboard, Colnett told him. She was the first of several vessels they would launch on the coast.
“He informed me he bore the title or commission of governor of the port of Nootka,” Martinez noted. “He further said that of the officials who accompanied him, some were to take command of the company’s vessels, and others were to have charge of the books of the factory, for which purpose they had left London.
“I answered him, saying that he should consider his commission discharged since there was no place for the company’s pretensions, and I could in no wise allow him to carry out his instructions.”
Colnett began a search for his papers, and Martinez returned to the Princesa. At some point in the early afternoon Martinez spoke with Kendrick, asking him to prepare to deliver a favor. Until this point, Kendrick had kept his distance from Colnett. He probably had no liking for the fancy airs of the British “governor” of Nootka, and remained wary of what might transpire. Two of Kendrick’s officers lingered aboard the Princesa to gather intelligence, probably Howe and Ingraham, whom Martinez admired.
At three o’clock in the afternoon, Colnett asked through a messenger to borrow Martinez’s launch so he could tow the Argonaut out into the sound where he could catch the early wind off the land and set sail the next morning.
The pretenses were over. Martinez sent a reply message: “My friend, in the present circumstance it is necessary that you put into my hands at once your passport, instructions, and other papers that I have asked of you. Such are the orders of the king of Spain, my sovereign.”
From the American ship, Kendrick and his men could see Colnett come up on deck, dressed in the London company’s uniform and wearing his swo
rd. Colnett was furious at having to acquiesce to someone he regarded as a treacherous Spaniard who was challenging British rights. Colnett later noted, “I received an order from Don Martinez, to come on board his ship and bring with me my papers. This order appeared strange, but I complied with it, and went aboard the Princesa.”
Martinez was in his cabin with his pilot, the two Americans, and a padre. Colnett went in and showed the “passport” given to him by John Meares. Martinez asked for his other papers, and Colnett said that his instructions were directed to him alone and he was not authorized to show them. He haughtily demanded to know if Martinez was going to lend him the launch.
Martinez’s temper flared. “I have no thought of doing so unless you first disclose the contents of the passport and other documents I requested,” he said. As the argument heated up, the Americans left.
Martinez glanced over the passport papers, and “although he did not understand a word of the language in which they were written,” Colnett said that he “declared they were forged, and threw them disdainfully on the table.” Martinez told Colnett he would not sail until his request for documents was satisfied.