Selkirk's Island

by Diana Souhami

  Dampier negotiated with the mutineers from the Cinque Ports. The ships, he promised, would be ‘wooded, watered, heeled and refitted’. The sick would revive on The Island. As soon as they were all refreshed, they would take a prize. Real work was about to begin. Riches were to hand. He was in command of Stradling. He would see that the men’s grievances were heard. There would be regular Council meetings. The Articles of Agreement would be honoured. ‘By the endless endeavours of Captain Dampier they were reconciled and returned aboard their own Ship again’ Funnell wrote.

  1704 Lyon-baiting

  THE ISLAND seemed a depressing place: ‘the melancholy howling of innumerable seals on the beach… rocky precipices, inhospitable woods, dropping with the rain, lofty hills, whose tops were hid by thick and dark clouds, on the one hand, and a tempestuous sea on the other.’†

  Harsh though it was, after the torment of the sea it proved a haven. Even the slaves seized at St Jago could wash away humiliation in the streams.

  The men lit fires and roasted crawfish in the embers, set up tents for the sick, improvised rough dwellings, and plundered the place. A joint of goat, roasted, flavoured with herbs, and served with what they called ‘the cabbage palm’ boiled, made, they declared, ‘a very good Meal, the cabbage as good as any Garden-Cabbage we had ever tasted’.† The palm trees were tall and each had at its head a single fruit. The men could not climb the sheer trunks, so they felled a tree for every cabbage. They strewed The Island with dying wood.

  They found fish ‘in such plenty that it is almost incredible – Cavallies, Silver-fish, Groopers, Breams and Craw-fish’. They ate these broiled, roasted, or fried in sea-lion oil. They kept a fire burning day and night. In the mornings hundreds of tiny hummingbirds, the males copper-coloured, the females white and metallic blue, were dead by the embers, lured to the light of the flames.

  The ships were hauled from the water and careened. Wood was stored, several tons of water, and a ton of sea-lion oil for cooking and for lamps were casked. Funnell took an academic interest in the slaughter of these creatures. He measured a particularly large dead sea lion. It was twenty-three feet long, fourteen and a half feet round, with a seventeen-inch layer of fat.

  The Seals are very much afraid of a Man; and so soon as they see him any thing near, they will make to the Water; for they never go far from it. If they are hard pursued, they will turn about and raise their Body up with the Fore-fins and face you, standing with their Mouth wide open upon their Guard: So that when we wanted to kill one, to make Oil, we used commonly to clap a Pistol just to his Mouth, as it stood open, and fire it down his Throat; but if we had a mind to have some Sport with him, which we called Lyon-baiting; usually six, seven or eight, or more of us, would go with each a half Pike in his Hand, and so prick him to Death; which commonly would be a Sport for two or three Hours before we could conquer him. And often times he would find us work enough. But he being an unweildy Creature; and we assaulting him both behind, before, and all round; we must needs conquer. Yet he often put us to the run; and sometimes he would run himself, but knew not which way, for we commonly got between the Water and him.

  Thus English pleasures in distant places. The seals were unacquainted with such torment. They had thought The Island a safe place to swim, catch fish, bask on the rocks and protect their young.

  1704 An Insignificant Attempt

  THIS STAY on The Island lasted four weeks. At noon on 29 February a ship came into view. Dampier gave orders to pursue it: ‘we got on board all our People, got up our Yards and Topmasts, clapt our Long-Boats on our Moorings, let slip, and got under sail’.

  Here was a prize. In their haste for it, the Cinque Ports crew left behind spare anchors, cables and sails, their casked water and sea-lion oil and eight men who were hunting goats in the mountains.

  It was a dishevelled and disorganised chase. On the open sea they lost two boats. One filled with water and had to be abandoned. In the other, a man and a dog were left adrift without drinking water or food.

  The men closed on the ship at eleven that night. Dampier had thought it to be Spanish, but it was a French merchant ship, with a cargo of cordage, in better condition than either of the English ships. It was well manned, twice the weight of the St George and with about thirty guns. At dawn the Cinque Ports drew near enough to fire ten cannon. The French responded with greater fire. The Cinque Ports sheared off, shortened sail and fell astern the St George. It could not then use its guns without damaging the St George.

  Dampier had given orders to pursue this ship only to placate his mutinous crew. When it came to the fight, his prime concern was to save himself:

  he stood upon the Quarter-Deck behind a good Barricado, which he had order’d to be made of Beds, Rugs, Pillows, Blankets, etc. to defend him from the small shot of the Enemy; where he stood with his Fusee in his Hand. He neither encouraged his men, nor gave them any proper instructions as is usually required from a Commander at such Times.†

  The men were desperate for this prize. They needed consolation for six months of grim living. They wanted, if nothing else, to replenish their stores and take a ship in better repair than their own. They had left home in search of gold and fortune and all they had found were hunger and squalor. Many had died, thirty were still sick. They fought, broadside to broadside, for seven hours. Nine men from the St George were killed, more were injured. The French ship was badly damaged. Its casualties were high with many dead and thirty-two men wounded, each having lost a leg, an arm or an eye.

  Dampier dismissed this battle as ‘an Insignificant Attempt’. He had not, he said, ‘come thither to fight ffrenchmen’.† He ‘called out to make Sail, for Fear the Enemy should clap us on Board and take us’. According to John Welbe that was the only command he gave during the whole battle.

  Squalling winds separated the ships and put an end to cannon fire. The men feared the frustration of all their hopes if this ship went free. It would head for Lima. Its captain would tell the Spanish authorities about them. Merchant ships, rich with plunder, would then be diverted from the South American coast.

  When the wind dropped, the men wanted to continue the fight. Dampier would not have it. They rounded on him ‘very much dissatisfied to suffer ourselves to be so baffled in our first Attempt’. He bragged ‘that he knew where to go and could not fail of taking to the value of £500,000 any Day in the year’.† He was not believed. This captain, when it came to action, hid behind a mattress and gave no orders. He was cowardly, incompetent and usually drunk.

  Dampier reassured them that he had a strategy. Sails, boats and men had been left on The Island. They must first return and collect these. Then they would head toward Lima. In that busy stretch of sea they would seize ships without risk, replenish their stores, add to their fleet, take prisoners for whom they could exact ransom. Then under cover of night they would raid the town of Santa Maria where gold was stockpiled from the nearby mines.

  Again the two ships headed back to The Island. As they approached, the wind dropped, the sea was calm, and they were forced to row toward the Great Bay. Anchored there were two large French warships. They fired at the Cinque Ports, then gave chase.

  It occurred to the men that with officers like Dampier and Stradling, no treasure would come their way. As they headed north for the coast of Peru mutiny stirred. Selkirk, Welbe and Clift complained of all the capricious changes of plan. Despite assurances, no council meetings were held. Dampier, Stradling and Morgan made decisions ‘hugger mugger’ between themselves.

  And now there were no spare sails, cables or anchors, no boats, and scarce water and food. Without boats or cables they could not tow their ships if the wind dropped or sails were torn. They could not go ashore in shallow water, or land without being seen at night. Without water they could not cook their scant rations and without cables and anchors they could not moor.

  1704 No Small Presumption

  THE DEAD were food for creatures of the sea. The injured turned for help to
their surgeons. In a small space below the gun deck John Ballett tied splints to fractured bones, raked out bullets embedded in flesh, stitched gunshot wounds, treated burns with quinces and purslain, cracked dislocations more or less back to place and amputated shattered feet and hands.

  Ballett thought it wise to amputate in the mornings but never at full moon. His dismembering saws were kept well-filed, clean and in oiled cloths to protect them from rust. He had an assortment of knives, mallets, chisels and stitching needles, some strong waxed thread, rolls of crude cotton and large bowls filled with ashes to catch blood.

  The amputee had to give consent and was told that he might die. ‘It is no small presumption to dismember the Image of God.’† Two strong men held the patient down. The instruments were kept from his view. Ballett, ‘with a steady hand and good speed, cut off Flesh, Sinewes and all to the Bone’. He left flaps of skin. He then sawed through the bone, sewed the flaps, stemmed the bleeding with cotton and propped the stump up high with a pillow under it. There was a vessel for amputated limbs ‘till you have opportunity to heave them Overboard’.

  Even if only the foot was crushed the surgeons took off most of the leg, ‘the Paine is all one, and it is most profitable to the Patient, for a long Stumpe were but troublesome’. There were dismembering nippers for amputating fingers and toes.

  1704 A Private Consideration

  THE PRIVATEERS then lay in wait near Callao, the port that served Lima, capital City of Peru. They furled their sails so as not to be seen. The intention was to attack any vessel going in or out of the harbour.

  On 22 March two ships headed in. One was the same French galleon they had fought at such cost but failed to take. The men saw this as an opportunity to complete unfinished business. Stradling proposed that the St George chase it while the Cinque Ports pursued the other smaller ship. Dampier overruled him.

  Upon which one of our Men told him to his Face, he was a Coward, and ask’d him, Whether he came to these Parts of the World to fight, or not? And he reply’d, He did not come to fight; for he knew where to make a Voyage, without fighting.†

  Prizes such as these, Dampier boasted, were ‘inconsiderable gains’. The risks and dangers of such skirmishes were not worth the reward. Only the lack of boats, he said, kept him from putting a fortune into the crew’s hands.

  Only the lack of boats kept the crew from mutiny. Sea water had tainted their food supplies. They were desperate for fresh water, food, action and gold. Without much to do they feuded, and split into gangs. There were violent quarrels and fights, particularly between seamen and landmen. Ralph Clift blamed these fights on Dampier’s ‘misgovernment’:

  it was his Duty & in his power to have hindred such Quarrels & ffightings but he only heard the Complaints on one side & the other & never took any Care to prevent them.†

  Next morning, in what at first seemed like effortless compensation, they took a Spanish merchant ship La Ritta as it left the harbour. Off-guard and unprepared, it put up no resistance. Its cargo was of snuff, lace, wool, silk, tar, tobacco, turtleshell, beeswax, soap, cinnamon, Jamaican pepper, wood and ‘a pretty good Sum of Money’.

  This might have been a turning point, a success, a justification for the hardship and boredom of it all. But Dampier let the ship sail on. He off-loaded merchandise worth four thousand pounds, and took two of the forty black slaves on board, but he would not let the men rummage the ship, or keep it as a prize. He told the crew that too much plunder would ‘be a hindrance to his greater Designs’ and that he had no officer good enough to command such a large ship.

  No one believed him. Resentment grew. Selkirk claimed he took a bribe from the Spanish commander to let the ship go free: ‘a private consideration to Dampier and Morgan for ransom’.

  ‘We were forced to be as well content as we could’ Funnell wrote in his journal. Then at dawn next day ‘not firing above three guns’ the men surprised and took another ship, the Santa Maria. It had a cargo of indigo and cochineal and according to Selkirk ‘Divers Chests of Silver to the value of £20,000’. Again Dampier would not allow the men to rummage or keep the ship. He took its boats – two launches and a bark – and again in return for a bribe released it. Morgan stowed the captain’s silver dinner service, worth £200, in his cabin.

  Dampier when criticised threatened to blow out the complainant’s brains, or maroon him, or throw him overboard. He made airy promises of the gold they would get when they ransacked the town of Santa Maria, of increased dividends and shares for all. He was not believed. There was no trust left among these thieves.

  They planned to invade Santa Maria at night by boat. It was across the bay from Panama. To prepare for this, they anchored at Gallo, an island that offered water, wood and a sandy beach. They fitted out the Spanish boats with pedreros – small guns that fired stones, nails, broken iron and shot.

  For sport they shot large lizards and monkeys. And again they took an easy, unexpected prize – a Spanish bark, commanded by an unwitting Indian. He mistook them for Spaniards and approached them hoping to buy provisions. It was a costly mistake. He and his crew ‘lost both themselves, their Vessel and their Money’. On board was a man from Guernsey, taken prisoner by Spaniards while working as a logwood cutter in Campeachy Bay. He had spent two years in a Mexican gaol. He went through a masquerade of conversion to Catholicism to obtain his freedom. A condition of his release was that he stay in Mexico or sail only with Spanish coastal ships.

  The privateers sank the bark and marooned its crew. They kept the Indian captain as their pilot. The man from Guernsey was overjoyed to meet his liberators.

  1704 A Most Uncomfortable Night

  BEFORE THE RAID on Santa Maria Dampier summoned his officers to a rare Council of War. ‘Now it is usual in a Council of War for the youngest Officer to give his Opinion first’ Midshipman John Welbe wrote:

  But Capt Dampier would always give his own Opinion first: and then, if any of the Officers gave their Opinion contrary to his, he wld fly out in a Passion, and say, If you know better than I do, take you Charge of the Ship. He was always a Man so much self-conceited, that he would never hear any Reason.†

  On 25 April the St George and Cinque Ports lay anchored at Point Garachina, south of the Gulf of Mexico. The Indian pilot was to guide Dampier, Stradling, Funnell, Selkirk and a hundred armed men up river to Santa Maria in the three captured Spanish boats. The rest of the men were to wait vigilantly in the two ships until the boats were back.

  A strong ebb tide and a drenching storm hindered the journey up river. The men huddled in the open boats in the dark, ‘with much Thunder and Lightning’. They got very wet and ‘passed a most uncomfortable Night’. Dampier had a supply of brandy. Stradling asked him to share it with the men. ‘Capt Dampier answered: If we take the Town, they will get Brandy enough; but if we don’t take the Town, I shall want it my self.’

  In the morning five Indians in a canoe paddled by. They were curious as to why a large number of rain-soaked foreigners were lurking in the reed banks. Prompted by Dampier, the captured pilot told them they were from Panama and – invited them on board. The Indians paddled off fast. The privateers then shot at them – according to Funnell on Dampier’s instruction. Dampier sent a launch after them, but they got away.

  It was a serious bungle. The Indians were sure to report to the Spanish authorities that marauding Englishmen were firing nails and stones at innocent passers-by. Ambushes would be laid in Santa Maria and all valuables taken into the hills.

  Dampier decided on immediate attack. He ordered Stradling to take the two launches and forty-four men up river to a small village called Schuchaderoes, near Santa Maria. He and the others would follow in the bark when the tide turned. From there they would storm Santa Maria under cover of night.

  Stradling and his men could not find the village. Dampier’s charts located it on the north bank of the river. They ambushed three Indians in a canoe and forced them to be their guides. Stradling sent five armed men and tw
o of the Indians in the canoe to search out the village. It got dark. The guides became unhelpful. Dogs barked on the south side of the river so the men headed there. As they neared the bank the Indians jumped free. Stradling’s men shot into the night but had no idea who or what they hit. Retaliatory blasts of gunfire came from the shore. In the morning when all was quiet the men landed. They found empty huts, fruit trees, chickens, maize and yams. The villagers had fled to the hills.

  Next day Stradling went back down river to look for Dampier who had not shown up. He found him by chance. Dampier had missed the mouth of the river and spent a night and a day up a creek. In the captured canoe was a packet of letters. One letter to the Governor of Santa Maria, from the President of Panama, warned him to watch out for 250 armed Englishmen intent on ransacking Santa Maria. Seven days previously, the President wrote, he had sent four hundred soldiers to reinforce the army there. He was sure by the time the Governor received this letter the additional soldiers would be with him.

  Dispirited but not deterred, Dampier, Stradling and eighty-seven armed men, headed for the town in the captured launches and canoe. John Clipperton, William Funnell and thirteen others were to guard the bark until they returned.

  They did not have to guard the bark for long. The raiders were back by midnight in disarray and in accusing mood. Several were wounded, one had been killed. A quarter of a mile outside Santa Maria Spanish soldiers had fired at them in three separate ambushes. The men claimed they had scared off these attackers and were ready to invade the town but Dampier ordered a halt. He said there was no point because the Spaniards would have taken their wives, children and all that was valuable out of the town; ‘which is always the first thing they do when they hear of an Enemy.†