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Title: The Sufferings and Escape of Capt. Chas. H. Brown From an Awful Imprisonment by Chilian Convicts
Author: Brown, Chas. H.
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Sufferings and Escape of Capt. Chas. H. Brown From an Awful Imprisonment by Chilian Convicts" ***
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[Illustration: SOUTH AMERICA.]
[Illustration:
1. Front gate.
2. House in which Cambiaso and Garcia lived.
3. Rooms where Mr. Shaw and myself were first confined.
4. The room I was afterwards removed to.
5. Where Mr. Dunn, Capt. Avalos, and others were confined.
6. Where my crew were confined.
7. Gallows.
8. Tree where the woman and others were shot.
9. The platform.
10. Flag-staff.
11. Guns.
12. Officers’ house.
13. Cook and bake houses.
14. Gate to the yard where the cattle were kept.
15. Trees where Mr. Shaw, Capt. Talbot, and the passenger were shot.
16. Where they were burnt, with the governor.
17. Where the vessels’ papers were burnt.
18 to 44. Houses or huts for the soldiers and prisoners.
45. Calaboose.
46 to 49. Store houses.
50. Gate.
51. Sometimes used for calaboose.
52. Dog house.]
[Illustration]
THE
SUFFERINGS
AND ESCAPE
OF
CAPT. CHAS. H. BROWN
FROM
An Awful Imprisonment
BY
CHILIAN CONVICTS.
BOSTON:
HIGGINS AND BRADLEY,
20 WASHINGTON STREET.
1855.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854,
BY CHAS. H. BROWN,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
GEO. C. RAND, PRINTER, CORNHILL, BOSTON.
PREFACE.
The preface to a book is very often nothing more than a respectable
cloak, allowed by the conventionalities of literature, in which an
author may wrap his excuses and apologies for troubling the public with
his lucubrations. This dressing up of excuses in order to introduce
them into notice under another name, is a thing so tempting to poor
human nature, such a pleasant little offering to self esteem and
vanity, that it would be very hard if authors were to be debarred from
a luxury in which all their fellow mortals indulge. Yet, if it be true
that a good wine needs no bush, it is equally true that a good book
needs no excuse; and in this age of ready writers, it is very certain
that no excuse or apology can justify the publishing a bad one. To
apologise for poor or careless writing, because there has not been
time or opportunity to make it better, provokes the question, “What
necessity was there for writing at all?”--a question not always easily
answered.
But this is not an apology for my own book; it is simply a preface to
the narrative of another person, in which I can claim no part except
that of collecting the facts from different sources, of arranging and
compiling them. If in performing this task, I have in any way “come
tardy off,” my excuses are due to both captain Brown and his readers.
In writing out this account, I have labored under the disadvantage
of being able to hold no communication with captain Brown, except
by letters. His legal papers connected with his claim for salvage,
and his own concise narrative of his sufferings and escape, drawn up
for Mr. Webster’s information at the time the claim for salvage was
first made, were put into my hands; and his letters from time to time
have supplied me with the details. I have, in every case where it was
possible, retained his own spirited language; but I feel that had it
been possible for me to have seen and heard him, the narrative as taken
down from his lips might have been, not, I believe, more correct as to
facts, but perhaps more graphic and life-like as to detail.
Still, I am convinced that the simple account of his adventures,
his sufferings, his unquenchable spirit, and the manner in which he
sustained and did honor to the reputation of our American seamen, amid
dangers before which the bravest might shrink, cannot be without its
interest to his countrymen, and especially to those of his profession;
while every American must feel that his services to the Chilian
government were received by them without even an acknowledgement of
their value; his just and legal claims being refused almost with
contumely. Had captain Brown’s demand for salvage on the treasure
rescued by him been backed by the presence of an American frigate,
commanded by such a man as captain Ingraham, we should not have seen
the British admiral allowed to carry it off from under the eyes of the
Chilian authorities, while they feared to serve the process of detainer
issued according to the law of the country; nor should we have seen
an American citizen brow-beaten by an English officer, while in the
discharge of his duty to his owners and to the government in whose
employ he was sailing. An American frigate would have taught captain
Stewart that no orders from the Chilian government could give him power
to seize a vessel sailing under the American flag, commanded by an
American citizen.
Such outrages and such injustice to our citizens will never occur when
that can be said of the American navy, which one of our own authors has
lately said so well of the British. “An English man-of-war seems to be
always within one day’s sail of every where. Let political agitation
break out in any port on the globe, if there be even a roll of English
broadcloth or a pound of English tea, to be endangered thereby, within
forty-eight hours an English steamer or frigate is pretty sure to drop
anchor in the harbor with an air which seems to say, ‘here I am; does
any body want any thing of me?’”[A]
Our country should be the guardian of her children, wherever the rights
of civilized society are respected, that our citizens may be in danger
of outrage and injustice only among savages and outlaws; and we may be
assured that in such extremities, they will, for the most part, like
captain Brown, be found fully able to protect themselves.
To return to my preface or apology: in offering this narrative to the
public, let me repeat my assurance, that captain Brown is answerable
only for the facts; for whatever literary defects there may be, I alone
am responsible.
E. H. APPLETON.
_Cincinnati._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Valparaiso--The barque Florida--Chartered by the Chilian
government--Prisoners for convict colony put on board--Captain
Avalos and soldiers sent for protection--We set
sail--Arrangement of the vessel--Mr. Shaw’s sickness--Attempted
insurrection among the prisoners--Prompt
conduct of Captain Avalos--All quiet again--We reach
the Straits of Magellan--Williwaws--We anchor in
Sandy Bay 15
CHAPTER II.
Sandy Bay Colony--Governor Benjamin Munoz Gamero--Insurrection
of Cambiaso--Forged Message from the Governor--Landing
of Captain Avalos--Escape of Governor
Gamero--Boat sent on shore--Return of the boat--Capture
of the Florida--Mr. Shaw and myself seized--Taken
on shore--Our imprisonment at the barracks--Privations--Mr.
Shaw removed 30
CHAPTER III.
My prison--My guards--An English hymn book--A fellow
prisoner--Capture of the Eliza Cornish--Fears of the
English mate--Death of Mr. Shaw--Of Captain Talbot
and boy--Barbarity of their execution--The Chilian prisoners
sympathize with us--Cambiaso’s bravado--Captain
Avalos and others led out to view the dead bodies--Treacherous
betrayal of Governor Gamero--Execution
of the traitor--My walk 51
CHAPTER IV.
Capture of the Governor--His execution--I am led out of
my prison--The burning of the bodies--Governor Gamero’s
character--His intercourse with the native tribes--The
Priest Acuna--Arrival of H. B. M. war steamer
Virago--Mr. Dunn, the Secretary--Cambiaso plans the
capture of the steamer--He fears her force and discipline--The
officers invited on shore--No suspicions aroused--The
Virago sets sail 71
CHAPTER V.
We are better treated--Captain Avalos again--His privations--The
sergeant shot--Mr. Buela--Cambiaso’s discipline--His
code of laws--Personal appearance--His
vanity--Threats of poison--Improved fare--The coffee--The
mate secures the E. Cornish--Cambiaso and
Garcia visit me--I go on board the Florida--My steward 94
CHAPTER VI.
Comparative comfort--The American ensign--Christmas
day--My visit to the barracks--The Indian boys--Cambiaso’s
rage--Execution of the Indian woman--The
cattle slaughtered--Escape of the Indians--Fears of the
rebels--Preparations for leaving--The Florida re-christened--Interview
with Cambiaso--The embarking of the
colonists--Prisoners sent to the Florida 123
CHAPTER VII.
Cambiaso’s orders--We set sail--Wood’s Bay--The old
French ship--A drunken riot--The officer condemned--Garcia’s
interference--Men deserted at Wood’s Bay--The
Eliza Cornish left behind--Stormy weather--Sandy Bay
again--The Indians--Cape Gregory--Interview with
Cambiaso--His promises--Conversation with Mr. Dunn--My
determination 145
CHAPTER VIII.
The re-taking of the vessel planned--Mr. Dunn--Captain
Avalos--Preito--The corporal--Three bells--The struggle--Cambiaso
overpowered--Garcia--Cheers for victory--The
crew swear fidelity to me--Our course--Cambiaso
put in irons--His cowardice--The prisoners from the
hold--River Gallegos--Voyage round Cape Horn--Attempted
outbreaks--Our danger--We reach San Carlos 169
CHAPTER IX.
Reports of the revolt reach San Carlos--American Minister
sends assistance--Chilian Government despatches forces
to the Straits--The Virago--Fears of the inhabitants of
San Carlos--I deliver the Florida to the Chilian authorities--Arrival
of the E. Cornish--The Virago takes the prisoners
and treasure--Passage to Valparaiso--Protest and
claim of salvage--Mr. Duer--Don Antonio Varas--Injustice
done me by the Chilian government--The British
Admiral claims the treasure--I protest again--Compromise--Don
Antonio denies all claim--My claims put into
the hands of the United States Authorities 191
CHAPTER X.
Cambiaso’s trial--His execution--His character--Garcia--My
interview with him--The officer saved by Garcia--His
wife’s gratitude--Mr. Duer’s kindness--Mr. Dunn--Captain
Avalos--Conclusion 220
INSURRECTION AT MAGELLAN.
CHAPTER I.
Valparaiso--The barque Florida--Chartered by the Chilian
government--Prisoners for convict colony put on board--Captain
Avalos and soldiers sent for protection--We set sail--Arrangement of
the vessel--Mr. Shaw’s sickness--Attempted insurrection among the
prisoners--Prompt conduct of Captain Avalos--All quiet again--We
reach the Straits of Magellan--Williwaws--We anchor in Sandy Bay.
In the latter part of October, 1851, I was at the port of Valparaiso,
Chili, having command of the barque Florida, of New Orleans, of about
two hundred tons burden. My orders from my owners were to take the
Florida through the Straits of Magellan to Rio Janeiro, where we were
to take in freight for the United States; and my first business was to
secure my officers and crew. One of my owners was now at Valparaiso,
and would accompany me on the voyage.
To a sea-faring man like myself, such a voyage was no new thing, and
I looked forward with some interest, but with no excitement, to the
prospect of many days’ tiresome battling with the wind and waves, to
the annoyances of clearing, and to the perils and labors of a tedious
navigation through the Straits. Had I known what perils and sufferings
awaited me, with what different feelings should I have left the
beautiful city where I had received much kindness and hospitality,
and trusted myself to the treacherous elements, and to men far more
treacherous than they! But, happily, Providence has given to us only
a knowledge of the present, and the blessing of hope for the future,
without any foreshadowing of coming evil.
The barque Florida was a long, low, straight-built vessel, and a fast
sailer. She had been employed formerly in sailing between Panama and
San Francisco, conveying passengers to and fro, and was well fitted
up for that purpose, with a large cabin, extending as far forward as
her mainmast, and fourteen well furnished state rooms. She was also
furnished with four brass cannon, four pounders, and one iron swivel
mounted forward. Her owners were Capt. John Lovett, of Beverly, Mass.,
and his brother-in-law, Mr. Benjamin G. Shaw; Mr. Shaw being the
principal owner. On board of her were Mr. Shaw, the owner, and one
cabin passenger, Mr. Ramon Buela, belonging to New Orleans.
The vessel having at that time no cargo, we were applied to by the
government of Chili, to convey certain State prisoners, charged with
political offences, to the penal colony established by that government
at Sandy Bay, Straits of Magellan. This was at the time when the
Chilians, disaffected to the government at Santiago, had risen, under
General Cruz, and had seized the Province of Conception; and the
political offenders whom we were to convey to Sandy Bay, were, some of
them, implicated in that rebellion.
After some consideration, Mr. Shaw determined to accept the offer
of the government, and to allow it to charter the Florida for the
conveyance of the prisoners to Sandy Bay, where we were to leave
them, and proceed on our voyage. The authorities were to send with
the prisoners a sufficient number of troops to secure us against any
disturbance during the voyage, and accordingly, Captain Pedro Avalos,
with a corporal and twelve soldiers were drafted on that service.
On the morning of October 30, I took command of the vessel, with the
intention of getting her ready for sea the same evening, that I might
be prepared to receive the prisoners, who were to be sent on board of
her the same night. By hard work on my part, and plenty of pushing up
my men, we were all ready by night, and at eleven o’clock, P. M., the
prisoners began to come on board.
Hard featured, desperate looking men, some of them were, with the
downcast, heavy look of criminals. Men were among them who had set law
at defiance, whose hands had been against every man, and in whose
hearts the kindly affections had long been deadened; and I felt as
I looked at their countenances, made, perhaps, more repulsive to me
by the dark, foreign cast of features which my early education and
prejudices had taught me to associate with men of desperate fortunes,
that there was no easy task before me. There were, however, among them
men of high rank, who, for having joined in one of those political
struggles which so constantly shake the South American Republics, were
now condemned to a long imprisonment on the savage shores of Patagonia,
in the society of convicts and felons of the worst kind; some sentenced
for a tedious term of three years, some doomed to a life-long
imprisonment.
On the evening of Sunday, November 3d, I received a notice from
Commodore R. Simpson, acting Intendente of Valparaiso, by the captain
of the port, that all the prisoners were now on board, the notice being
accompanied by an order for me to proceed to sea at once, without any
further communication with the shore. The Intendente evidently feared
the escape of some of our prisoners, or perhaps some communication
between them and their political associates.
The evening being calm, the sea breeze having died away, and no
appearance of the land breeze springing up, I asked the captain of the
port, to whom the regulation of all the shipping in the harbor belongs,
for the assistance of two boats from the Chilian man-of-war which was
lying in the harbor at the time, to tow my vessel out to sea. They were
sent, and assisted us till midnight, when a land breeze springing up,
they left us, and returned to the harbor.
I had made every preparation to insure order and security during the
voyage, had mounted two of the four pounders upon the poop deck,
pointing forward so as to rake the whole deck, and kept them constantly
loaded. The prisoners, about eighty in number, were put into the hold
of the vessel, and were only allowed to come on deck for air and
refreshment, in small detachments. A sentinel was stationed at the
gangway, and the deck was constantly guarded by seven soldiers and
half my crew. The crew consisted of eight men before the mast, part
Americans and part foreigners, first and second mate, cook, and cabin
boy. Mr. Shaw, Captain Avalos, Mr. Buela, the first and second mates,
and myself shared the cabin.
The wind continued light until the afternoon of Monday, the 4th, when
a fresh breeze sprung up from the south-west, right ahead: which head
wind and rough sea continued through the first part of our voyage.
Our little vessel was a fast sailer, but with these obstacles in our
way, we made but slow progress, and our passengers began to feel the
tediousness of a sea voyage. For my part, my responsibility was too
heavy, and my avocations somewhat too numerous, for time to hang
heavily upon my hands, for my officers were neither very efficient or
entirely to be depended upon.
My anxieties and responsibilities were increased when we were some days
out, by the sickness of Mr. Shaw, who was seized with a relapse of the
Panama fever. My relation to Mr. Shaw was something more than the mere
business connection between the owner and master of a vessel. We had
been thrown together very closely, and I had always found him ready and
prompt with advice and sympathy in every difficulty that might arise,
and most considerate in all business arrangements. We were Americans,
from the same State, away from our families and friends, and bound
together by many common subjects of interest; subjects which grow in
importance when men are far away from their homes. His sickness, where
so little could be done for his comfort, was a source of considerable
anxiety to me, and deprived me of almost all society, for Captain
Avalos talked very little English.
We had been out about a fortnight, when, as Captain Avalos and myself
were sitting in the cabin, we were startled by word being brought from
the sentinel at the gangway, that one of the prisoners had informed him
that there had been a proposition among the prisoners to rise and take
the vessel.
I sprang upon the deck and called up all hands, while Captain Avalos
ordered up the soldiers who were not on duty. The soldiers were all
under arms, and the captain proved himself soldier-like and efficient
in any emergency; for his first order was, that in case of any
disturbance among the prisoners, the first man that made his appearance
was to be shot down. We waited in some anxiety, but all was quiet;
then, ordering the soldiers and the crew to remain on their guard,
Captain Avalos and myself went to the gangway and inquired into the
cause of the alarm. It seems that the proposition to take the vessel
had been made by one of the prisoners,--one of those confined for
political offences. His plan had probably been to run the vessel into
land, and join General Cruz and the revolutionary party in the province
of Conception; but few of the prisoners were ready to join him, and
one of them had found an opportunity to communicate the design to the
sentinel at the gangway.
We had no further difficulty, and I was glad that this little
disturbance had occurred, as it gave me confidence in the promptitude
and courage of my own crew, and in the presence of mind and
soldier-like character of Captain Avalos.
On the morning of November 24th, the weather was thick and foggy, and
the running became difficult. I run till about eleven o’clock, and
then, judging myself near the western entrance of the Straits, I hove
the main-top-sail aback, waiting for clear weather, so that I could
see land. At twelve, the sun came out, clear and glorious, and I found
myself within ten miles of the entrance, Cape Pillar bearing east from
us. Mr. Shaw and myself congratulated each other on being near the
end of the disagreeable part of our voyage, for there was something
repugnant to us, in the idea of standing jailors, as it were, to men
for some of whom our sympathies were enlisted; for the freedom of our
political institutions makes the idea of imprisonment for political
offences repulsive to an American; and, indeed, no free man likes to
stand jailor to another, be his offences what they may.
We were, however, not so near our destination as we supposed, for the
weather continued very much against us. I put the vessel before the
wind, intending that afternoon to anchor in the harbor of Mercy, but
on account of the thick, squally weather, I was unable to make the
harbor, and ran past the entrance, which is so small that it may easily
be overlooked. I was therefore obliged to run all night, and as the
wind was blowing fresh, and the weather thick, I took in sail, and put
her under double-reefed top-sails. At daylight on the morning of the
25th, I set all sail, and during the day we had a fine, pleasant breeze
from the westward. In the evening, not being able to make a harbor,
we hove-to, for the night, a short distance from Cape Froward, a high
point of land within the Straits. These high lands I had learned to
dread, as from off them, and out of the valley come fresh, fitful
winds, called by the Indians “williwaws,” blowing sometimes with such
violence as to take the masts out of vessels. These williwaws give
you no warning, when your vessel is near shore, and require constant
watchfulness.
The morning of the 26th broke, however, with a light breeze from the
west, under favor of which I run along the shore until noon, when the
wind suddenly canted to the northward, and blew so fresh and hard that
at 3. P. M., the main-top-sail split, and we were obliged to reef it.
At six in the afternoon we were glad to drop anchor in Sandy Bay,
and to give notice of our arrival by a salute of two guns, which was
answered from the shore.
CHAPTER II.
Sandy Bay Colony--Governor Benjamin Numoz Gamero--Insurrection of
Cambiaso--Forged Message from the Governor--Landing of Captain
Avalos--Escape of Governor Gamero--Boat sent on shore--Return of the
boat--Capture of the Florida--Mr. Shaw and myself seized--Taken on
shore--Our imprisonment at the barracks--Privations--Mr. Shaw removed.
Sandy Bay Colony lies on the Patagonian side of the Straits of
Magellan, on a level spot of ground which slopes down gently towards
the water on the south-east. The settlement had formerly been made
at Port Famine, at a short distance to the south-west of the present
colony; but that situation was found to be very bleak, the site of
the buildings being on a hill somewhat higher than the surrounding
country, and exposed to the sweep of the williwaws. The change had
been made under the direction of Don Benjamin Numoz Gamero, governor
of the colony, and the new site had been selected with great judgment.
The land proved very fertile, being well fitted to raise all the
crops which the short summers of that latitude will allow to come to
maturity; and the governor had cleared a good deal of ground around
the barracks, and laid out many gardens, which were cultivated by the
convicts. A street ran in front of the barracks, towards the water, and
on the slope of the shore were some very good houses. These houses were
made of boards that had been sawed from logs by the convicts. They used
hand-saws, and usually sawed about twelve or fourteen boards a day.
As I looked towards the shore from the vessel, as the sun went down,
on the evening of the 26th, there was all around the quiet and peace of
early summer, and the barracks shone out with the neatness that belongs
to all buildings for military purposes. How little did I guess the
violence and mutiny that were going on within!
There had been an insurrection in the colony about five days before,
headed by one Cambiaso, second lieutenant of the troops stationed
there; who, as I learned afterwards, had committed some offence and
been imprisoned a short time before by the order of the governor. At
his liberation, he had declared that he would have his revenge, and
I have some reason to suppose that he was instigated to seize the
place by some of the political offenders confined there, who were
adherents of General Cruz, and who still held some communication with
the revolutionists in the province of Conception. Cambiaso had been
joined by most of the convicts and prisoners. This attack on the troops
had been successful, but the governor, priest, some soldiers, and
one woman, a wife of one of the soldiers, had escaped outside of the
fort, and were then hiding in the woods. Cambiaso was in possession of
the fort when we anchored in the bay, but of this, of course, I knew
nothing.
Early in the evening, indeed as soon as it was dark, a boat put off
from shore and came alongside, with five men in her, bearing a letter
purporting to be from the governor of the colony, and signed Numoz
Gamero, desiring me to keep the prisoners on board until the next day,
when I should receive assistance from the shore, in landing them. I
showed the letter to captain Avalos, who, tired of his confinement on
ship board, determined to go on shore for the night, taking with him
some twelve prisoners in the boat which had been sent from the land,
and leaving the remainder of the prisoners and the troops under my
charge.
About twelve at night, I was aroused by the firing of cannon from the
shore, and I sprung upon deck, but I found all quiet in the vessel. In
a few moments, however, the watch gave the alarm that a boat was coming
near us, and crying for assistance. The wind blew so very fresh that it
was impossible to hear what was said from the boat, (the voices being
blown away from us,) but I conjectured that the prisoners who were
landed the evening before, and about whose security I had some doubts,
had made their escape from captain Avalos, and had probably stolen a
boat and were trying to get on board, where, with the assistance of the
other prisoners, they could seize the vessel and make their escape.
I immediately ordered a gun to be fired in answer to those from the
shore, to show that we were on the lookout, and then had the larboard
quarter boat lowered away and sent her out with five men, armed with
cutlasses, with orders to seize the shore boat.
After being gone for a whole hour, they returned, saying that they had
not been able to find her. Soon after, the noise of firing from the
shore ceased. In the boat were the governor, priest, some soldiers,
and a woman, who had escaped from the barracks, and, seizing a boat,
had put off, in hopes to reach me and warn me of the insurrection on
shore. Having but one oar, however, and the wind blowing very fresh,
they were unable to make the vessel, but drifted across the Straits and
attempted to land on the Terra del Fuego side.
As soon as captain Avalos reached the barracks, he was seized, his
papers taken from him, the prisoners who landed with him set at
liberty, and himself put into double irons and thrust into a calaboose,
as the buildings for confining the soldiers are called. During the
evening, he could hear the prisoners whom he had brought on shore, in
the full enjoyment of a drunken frolic. He told me afterwards that no
answer was made to his inquiries as to the reason of his seizure, but
that he obtained some idea of what was the real state of the colony,
by overhearing the conversation of the drunken prisoners. Late in the
evening, the door of the calaboose was opened, and five men, double
ironed, were thrust into the room. These, he found, were the Secretary
of the colony, a Brazilian by birth, the captain and first lieutenant
of the troops of the colony, the apothecary, and governor’s steward.
The escape of governor Gamero had been discovered by Cambiaso, and
these men were thrust into the calaboose with captain Avalos, a guard
of eighteen men stationed on the outside, with lighted torches in their
hands, and with orders to set fire to the four corners of the building,
and burn them alive, in case the Florida made her escape during the
night. But the morning came, and the Florida, fortunately for them if
not for us, was still at anchor. It would be inquiring somewhat too
curiously of weak human nature, to ask if the prisoners felt any thing
but joy at hearing of our fatal security. Captain Avalos and Mr. Dunn
(the secretary) told me afterwards, that during the night their guards
were cursing their tiresome watch, and wondering why Cambiaso did not
shoot them at once, or burn them, without waiting to know the result of
the governor’s escape. But Cambiaso was not so daring a villain as not
always to remember the possibility of the re-taking of the fort.
Early in the morning of the 27th, I sent my boat on shore, with the
first mate, Mr. Buela, the passenger, (he understanding Spanish,) three
seamen, and one soldier, with orders to bring off captain Avalos, and
to obtain from the governor orders with regard to the landing of the
rest of the prisoners. These also were seized the moment they arrived
at the barracks, and thrust into a little building about six feet
square.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The firing and disturbance during the night had roused some sense of
uneasiness in my mind, lest all should not be right on shore; and early
in the morning I had gone into the cabin to consult with Mr. Shaw. He
was then quite unwell, and most anxious to reach the shore, where he
supposed he would be able to obtain medical advice; while I hoped to
land all the prisoners during the day, and be able to proceed that
afternoon on our way to Rio Janeiro.
We waited very anxiously, therefore, for the return of the boat, and
at about nine o’clock she came alongside, but to my surprise, manned
with six or seven men dressed as officers, who handed me a letter
purporting to be from governor Gamero, stating that my men were
drunk, and not able to row the boat back to the ship. The letter also
requested me to commence landing the prisoners. All this seemed to me
very singular. I had never seen any disposition to drunkenness among
my crew, and even if the seamen had been incapable of returning in the
boat, the first mate and captain Avalos would have been on board of
her. I went into the cabin, and, holding out the letter to Mr. Shaw,
said “Depend upon it, there is something wrong here. My men are not
drunk, and if they are, where are Mr. P----n and captain Avalos?”
While I was speaking, a voice was heard on deck, the cabin door was
burst open, and four of the officers rushed in, two of them with drawn
swords. Mr. Shaw, who was sitting down, was seized at once. One of the
officers struck at me with his sword, but his arm was caught by one of
the prisoners, who rushed between us. In a few minutes I was secured,
in spite of my struggles, and we were told that we were prisoners.
I asked to whom, and by whose authority we were taken, but to this
I received no answer. We were carried on deck, and I found that the
prisoners had been freed. The struggle with the troops and the crew
was still going on, but as the prisoners rushed up from the hold, it
became every moment more unequal. The prisoners being unarmed, wrested
the guns from the hands of the soldiers, and overpowered them by force
of numbers. As I came on deck, the corporal called out that he would
not give up his gun unless I ordered him to, for it seems the guns had
at first been demanded of the soldiers by the officers who came from
the shore, and in the confusion some of them had given them up. As the
corporal called to me, three of the officers threw themselves upon him,
and after a long struggle he was disarmed, and put in irons. The whole
attack was so unexpected, the rush of the prisoners from the hold so
overwhelming, and the confusion so great, that I do not wonder that the
soldiers and crew were overpowered.
Preparations were soon made for sending Mr. Shaw and myself on shore,
and a sufficient guard was detached to accompany us in the boat. While
rowing to the shore, our captors were continually firing off their
muskets, with shouts of “Viva la Cruz!” These cries gave happened in
the colony, for they were the same which had met my ear during the
insurrection, (previous to my leaving Valparaiso,) of which struggle
I had been a witness. On leaving, we were met by several soldiers
on foot and horseback, one of whom seemed to be of some authority.
This was Garcia, one of the officers in the service of the governor,
Gamero, who had joined Cambiaso in his revolt, being compelled to do
so, as he afterwards pleaded, by fear of his life. However that may
be, I certainly found him much more gentle and humane in his actions
and expressions than Cambiaso, and was indebted to him for several
kindnesses. From him I gained the first idea of what had occurred in
the colony.
As we left the boat, I noticed Mr. Shaw’s extreme weakness, and feared
that if we were to be taken far from the shore, he would not be able
to stand the fatigue. I therefore appealed to general Garcia, as I
afterwards learned to call him, and, calling his attention to Mr.
Shaw’s state of health, asked him if some arrangement could not be made
by which he could ride. Garcia ordered one of his soldiers to dismount,
and Mr. Shaw took his place. We were taken up the slope from the water,
towards the barracks, and passing by the platform, under the mouths of
the cannon which were mounted upon it, entered the great gate of the
fortification. As I looked around, military preparations met my eye
on every side, but there was none of the order of a regular garrison;
on the contrary, the shouts of drunken rioters, the quarrelling and
swearing of the soldiers, the shrill screams of the women which
struck my ear, gave me a tolerably correct idea of the sort of people
into whose hands we had fallen. Conspicuous among them all, was their
leader, Cambiaso, who cast contemptuous glances upon us as we passed,
and who might be heard giving his orders, mixed with oaths and threats
of punishment and death to those who did not obey him implicitly. He
let us pass on, however, without addressing us, and it was only from
his officer’s dress and authoritative manner that we were able to guess
at his rank.
Very little time, however, was given us for observation; for we were
hurried across the open space, and thrust into one of the largest
buildings used as barracks. My crew, the remainder of whom were brought
away from the vessel at the same time with Mr. Shaw and myself, were
put into one of the smallest of the barracks, where they, with Mr.
Buela, were confined in a room about six feet square, which was so
crowded that they were obliged to take turns in lying down to rest. Mr.
Shaw and myself were at first put into the same apartment, but we were
not allowed to speak to each other; several soldiers standing guard
over us the whole time. In about two hours, however, I was taken from
this room, and put into a smaller one adjoining it. The apartment into
which both Mr. Shaw’s room and mine opened, was occupied by our guard,
who ate and slept there, and who forbade all intercourse between us.
I looked around the room, which I felt would be my prison until I was
led out to death, for I knew now into what hands we had fallen; and,
on my way up from the shore to the barracks, had been threatened with
death if I did not at once inform them what treasure I had on board the
Florida; and on my saying there was none, one of the officers said “he
would soon find a way to make me find some.”
The room was without a floor, with a board nailed to the wall, looking
like a shelf, but serving for a seat; the table was a board, supported
by sticks driven into the ground; and these, with my mattrass, formed
the furniture. I had with me a small pocket looking glass about the
size of my hand, and the miniatures of my wife and children, which I
managed to hide within my shirt bosom. I had also in my pocket a pencil
and a small piece of paper, which I used for the purpose of keeping my
dates. My guards, however, always came and watched me when they saw me
writing, and at last told me I must desist, as some harm might come of
it. After this, I put down my dates when I was unobserved. This was not
often. For the next two days I was near starving, nothing being given
me to eat, except two ship biscuit, or “hard bread,” as we sailors call
them; and my only drink was the water which I helped myself to from the
guard room.
On the morning of the 29th, two days after our capture, I was taken out
by my guard, for a walk around the yard and on the platform which ran
along the west side of the fort, and on which the cannon were mounted.
I made the best use of my eyes and ears during my walk, and managed to
speak to one or two of the prisoners who had been on the Florida with
me, and whom I had made some acquaintance with during the voyage. It
was by these prisoners that I was afterwards kept informed of what
occurred outside of my prison. They would talk to me during my walks,
and sometimes would come to my window and tell me what had occurred;
sometimes in bravado, and with great exultation, and sometimes with
expressions of sympathy.
On returning from my walk, I met Mr. Shaw, leaving his room with his
guard by his side; taken out, I supposed, for a similar purpose. I saw
he was not looking well, and spoke to him, saying, “how do you feel
this morning?” His answer was, “pretty miserable;” and he seemed about
to say something more, but my guard pushed between us, saying, with
an oath, “We can’t have any talking, captain; we have the general’s
orders against it.” I was hurried into my room, and Mr. Shaw led away.
This was the last time I ever saw him; for, for some reason which
I never could learn, he was not brought back to the barracks, but
confined in a building outside the fortification. It seemed to me, that
with the sense of his nearness to me, I had lost my last friend; so
lonely and miserable did I feel when he had left.
CHAPTER III.
My prison--My guards--An English hymn book--A fellow
prisoner--Capture of the Eliza Cornish--Fears of the English
mate--Death of Mr. Shaw--Of Captain Talbot and boy--Barbarity of
their execution--The Chilian prisoners sympathize with us--Cambiaso’s
bravado--Captain Avalos and others led out to view the dead
bodies--Treacherous betrayal of Governor Gamero--Execution of the
traitor--My walk.
I now began to feel for a few days, some of the monotony of a
prisoner’s life. Shut up alone, without occupation, within hearing of
the riotous conversation of my guard, but forbidden to speak to them,
with hard fare, and no arrangements for my personal comfort or even
cleanliness, except when I could take water enough from the guard room
to wash my face, using my pocket handkerchief for a towel.
Three or four days had passed, and I had lost the fear of immediate
death, but my suspense and anxiety to know what Cambiaso’s intentions
with regard to us were, were very great. There seemed to me no motive
that he could have for keeping us prisoners, after he had satisfied
himself that we had no treasure on board the Florida, except the fear
that we would carry the news of his revolt back to Valparaiso; and
that danger to himself, it seemed to me, could be obviated only by
putting us to death. It was in vain that I applied to my guards; they
were evidently under orders to hold no communication with me, and the
prisoners who visited me from time to time, knew nothing of Cambiaso’s
plans. To my entreaties to be allowed to see Mr. Shaw, no answer was
given, except that it could not be allowed, that he had been sick, and
was now very unwell.
A few days after my imprisonment, an English book, containing prayers
and hymns, was handed me by one of my guard, a man named Preito, who
probably could make no use of it himself. The hymns had little poetical
merit, and probably at another time would scarcely have aroused my
attention; but now the promises and consolations of religion which
breathed through them, the spirit of Christian resignation and faith of
which I was then so much in need, and which to me shone out in every
part of them, were an unspeakable comfort. The first hymn to which I
opened, seemed so very applicable to my situation, that it impressed
itself upon my memory; and I insert it here, thinking that it may be
interesting to my readers to see how the promises of Christianity are
the truest consolation in all trials.
To my complaint, O Lord, my God,
Thy gracious ear incline;
Hear me, distressed and destitute
Of all relief but thine.
Do thou, O God, preserve my soul
That does thy name adore;
Thy servant keep, and him whose trust
Relies on thee, restore.
To me, who daily thee invoke,
Thy mercy, Lord, extend;
Refresh thy servant’s soul, whose hopes
On thee alone depend.
To my repeated, humble prayer,
O Lord, attentive be;
When troubled, I on thee will call,
For thou wilt answer me.
Some few days after Mr. Shaw’s removal from the barracks, one evening,
the exact date of which has escaped me entirely, I was aroused by a
great confusion in the fort, a noise of shouting, and, apparently, of
rejoicing. While I was standing at my window, trying to discover the
meaning of the uproar, my prison door was opened, and a man put in. He
was in sailor’s dress, was apparently an American, and looked terrified
and bewildered.
I accosted him immediately, in English--asked who he was, saying that
he was probably a prisoner, like myself. The guards in the next room
were in such a state of excitement that they allowed us to converse
unchecked.
He told me that he was the mate of an English brig, the Eliza Cornish,
of Liverpool, bound from Valparaiso to Liverpool; that the vessel had
anchored in Sandy Bay, intending to lay over for the night; that the
captain, Capt. Talbot, of Liverpool, had landed in the brig’s boat,
with a boy, a son of his owner, who was passenger on board, and one
or two seamen; that they had been seized and put in irons the moment
they were out of sight of the brig. The boat was then sent back to the
vessel, with five or six men in her, who came on board and told the
mate that the captain wanted him to come on shore; but that while he
was hesitating what to do, they, seeing the small number of the crew,
attacked and overpowered them, and took possession of the brig. They
then demanded of him whatever money was on board, threatening him
with instant death if he did not give it up at once. The brig had on
board about ninety or one hundred thousand dollars, in bars of gold
and silver, which they seized and brought on shore, together with the
mate and crew. Some of the bars of gold were cut up before his eyes,
and distributed around among the soldiers; and their exultation at the
sight of their booty had raised the general shout which I had heard.
This man was kept in my room during all the rest of our imprisonment.
He was a well meaning fellow, but evidently not much accustomed
to depend upon himself, and very much intimidated by the dread of
approaching death, by these rebels. I constantly found it necessary
to encourage him, and prevail upon him to show a bold face before our
captors, were it only to command their respect. For myself, I was not
really much afraid of them. I was afraid of dying, for my danger made
me realize how unfit I was for another world; and my dread of death
was such as a man might have during a dangerous illness.
At midnight, on December 2d, I was aroused from my sleep by the report
of muskets, of which they seemed to me to number about ten or twelve.
A short time afterwards there was another report, and our guards began
to run out of the next room. The whole encampment seemed in great
confusion, and I became alarmed, thinking some of our companions had
been shot, and that our turn was coming next. I dared not ask any
questions of the guard, some of whom I saw looking through the door of
our room, which always stood open at night. The mate of the E. Cornish
spoke to me, and said, “That is foul play, captain Brown; something
desperate is going on. I am afraid my captain and Mr. Shaw are gone for
it.” Then, throwing himself upon his face, he began to cry.
His manner gave me a feeling of impatience, and I answered him pretty
quickly that I did not doubt he was right, and that I supposed our turn
would come next, but I did not want to hear the thing talked about; and
at any rate, he might as well show as bold a face as possible, for the
guard were watching us, and listening to our conversation. This roused
him, and he sat up, and during the rest of the night we remained in
anxious suspense. I believe I was too proud to ask any questions of my
guard, nor would I allow the mate to ask any.
Soon after sunrise, some of the men who had come down with me as
prisoners, came into our room and whispered to me in Spanish, “Your
poor owner! poor English captain! poor English boy!” I questioned them
closely, and learned that Mr. Shaw and captain Talbot, with the young
passenger, had been taken from their beds just before midnight, put
in irons, both hands and feet, led out to a short distance from the
barracks, and there tied to a tree, and shot. I afterwards gathered
some particulars of their execution, which, for the sake of clearness,
I will insert here.
Mr. Shaw had been very sick ever since we were separated; and I was
told that on the 2d December he sent to Cambiaso, to ask if he might
have some medical advice. Cambiaso’s brutal reply was, “Pass him out
and shoot him, for we have no time to attend to the sick!” When they
were led out, captain Talbot entreated most earnestly that the boy’s
life might be spared, saying that he had been put under his care by his
parents, that he was a mere boy, and could do no harm; but his prayers
were not even listened to. He never asked once for his own life. The
boy was about eighteen years old, a son of one of the owners of the E.
Cornish, and had made the voyage as a pleasure excursion.
The first volley killed captain Talbot and the young man, leaving Mr.
Shaw standing unharmed, not a shot having touched him. Then a whole
volley was fired into him, killing him instantly. One of the soldiers
was attracted by the glitter of a diamond ring on Mr. Shaw’s finger,
and as soon as he was shot, the soldier went up to him, trying to
remove it; but finding that difficult, he cut off the finger with his
cutlass. This ring I afterwards heard of, as being seen on the finger
of one of the women about the fort, and on my return to Valparaiso,
I offered twenty-five dollars to recover it, thinking it would be
a gratification to Mr. Shaw’s friends to obtain even so slight a
remembrance of him, but I was not able to procure it. The bodies were
afterwards taken down and hung by the neck to a tree, exposed to all
the passers by.
I never knew why Mr. Shaw was shot, but I have every reason to suppose
that what I was told of Cambiaso’s reply to his request for medical
advice was the truth. It would have been too much trouble to take care
of a sick man. The same fear of trouble probably decided the poor boy’s
fate. Why captain Talbot was executed, while I was reserved, is also a
mystery to me. I never saw captain Talbot, but from his mate’s remarks
about him, I felt that he was a man of some spirit and character.
Perhaps his high spirit led him to say things that exasperated
Cambiaso. He gave some expression of this spirit at the time he was
seized. Two officers (Chilians,) were handling him rather roughly, when
he indignantly told them they need not look so surly, and at the same
time drew a dirk knife from the waist of his pantaloons. But it was
immediately taken from him.
Mr. Shaw’s death was a great shock to me, and is still a matter of
deep grief. We had been friends for some time, and I had the highest
respect for him. He was indeed a young man of great promise, and his
loss to his family and friends is one which cannot easily be replaced.
I grieved for them, even there in my prison, while I expected each
day to be my last, and while I remembered the agony of my own family,
when the news of our sad fate should reach them; and now that a kind
Providence has restored me to them, I grieve to remember him who met so
cruel a death from such barbarous hands, on a desert and far distant
shore.
I was told by one of the men who came into my cell that morning,
that the bodies were to be left hanging until we had all seen them.
Accordingly, about one o’clock that afternoon, three of the prisoners
(I think they were captain Avalos, with the captain of the regular
troops, and Mr. Dunn,) were taken from their prison, their irons
knocked off, and, when they were unshackled, Cambiaso walked up to
them, and with much mock politeness asked them to accompany him for
a walk. They were in no situation to refuse, but accompanied him in
silence, followed by a file of soldiers as guard. He led them out of
the barracks, toward the vessels. As they passed under the trees on
which hung the bodies of Mr. Shaw, captain Talbot, and the young lad,
Cambiaso pointed to them, and laughing, said, “You see what happens to
such villains when they fall into my hands; it will be your turn next.”
After compelling them to pass round the tree, so as to view the bodies
from every side, he conducted them back to the barracks and to their
crowded prison.
The mate of the E. Cornish and myself spent that morning in a state of
anxiety, expecting every moment to be called for--perhaps to be led
out to death, perhaps to be shown the dead bodies of our friends, and
to be conscious that any emotion we might show would be watched by
eyes that would interpret it into an expression of unmanly fear. My
feeling was a sort of indignant pride; my own honor and the honor of
my country seemed to me to depend upon my bearing before these pirates
and desperate men; and I repeatedly requested the mate, whose power
of self control I began to doubt, to be bold, whatever might happen
to him. I remember thinking that if he did not, all around him would
attribute it to a cowardly disposition. Towards three o’clock we heard
the report of fire-arms, and a general hurry and bustle in the yard. At
the report, the mate sprung to his feet, saying, “Good God, captain!
who has gone now?” We listened anxiously, but all was quiet again, and
I ventured to ask our guard what the disturbance was. They answered,
carelessly, “it is only a soldier who was shot; he is a traitor.” In
about two hours my guard called me out, saying that the mate and I were
to walk in the yard. I refused, at first, telling them that I did not
need a walk, I was well enough as I was, and so forth; but one of the
soldiers, with an oath, exclaimed that they had the general’s orders,
and that I had better come, or worse might happen to me. I rose, and
walked out quietly with the mate. The first thing that struck my eyes,
as I reached the door of the guard room, was a temporary gallows, on
which was suspended the body of a poor soldier. Near it was a tree, the
bark of which was torn with bullet-holes, and the ground below, which
was soaked with blood. I turned sick at the sight; but, summoning up
all my resolution, I walked quietly up to the body, and asked who it
was. One of my acquaintances, a Chilian prisoner who came with us,
and who was sauntering around, walked up to my side, and said, “You
need not feel pity for him, captain Brown; he was a traitor, not worth
caring for. Our general has served him right.”
I questioned the man further, and found that this was the body of one
of the soldiers who had escaped from the barracks with the governor,
and who, worn out by suffering and the fear of starvation, had appeared
at the gate that morning, and delivered himself up, offering to give
Cambiaso information of the governor’s hiding place, if he would
promise him safety, and the sum of five hundred dollars. Cambiaso
promised, and as soon as he had gained what he wanted from him, had him
ironed, and led out and shot. I felt that he had deserved his fate, but
remembering the proverb, “honor among thieves,” could not but think
that it was not at Cambiaso’s hands that he should have met it.
His story was, that after the boat in which they had left the shore
on the night the Florida arrived, had drifted past our vessel, and
they had found it impossible to make us understand what they wanted,
they drifted on through the night, paddling as well as they could till
they reached the Terra del Fuego shore, soon after daylight. There
they attempted to land, but were prevented by a party of Indians, who
fired on them, and wounded one of the soldiers. The weather then being
calm, they paddled to the westward, and crossed the Straits again to
Port Famine, the former site of the colony. There they had concealed
themselves in the bushes, and for the last week had been living on
nothing but roots, and were now in a state of starvation.
All this I gathered from my guards and visitors, after I returned to
my room from my walk, in company with the mate, although we had never
expected to see it again.
CHAPTER IV.
Capture of the Governor--His execution--I am led out of my
prison--The burning of the bodies--Governor Gamero’s character--His
intercourse with the native tribes--The Priest Acuna--Arrival of H.
B. M. war steamer Virago--Mr. Dunn, the Secretary--Cambiaso plans
the capture of the steamer--He fears her force and discipline--The
officers invited on shore--No suspicions aroused--The Virago sets
sail.
On the afternoon of the day of these executions, Cambiaso sent out
two or three parties of soldiers, well armed, under one of the chief
officers, and all on horseback, with directions to take the governor
and his party, and bring them in, dead or alive. They had accurate
information of their hiding place from the traitor, and by surrounding
the bushes, and gradually beating in, they succeeded in capturing them,
and about sunset brought them in, and they were soon heavily ironed.
I heard that they were terribly emaciated, and scarcely able to stand,
from weakness, having lived for nearly a week on nothing but roots
and berries. Cambiaso ordered them to be served with a good dinner,
saying that they should go with a belly-full, and then thrust them
into the calaboose, where captain Avalos and the other prisoners were
confined. Captain Avalos told me afterwards that neither the governor
or the priest showed any signs of fear, but when he asked them if they
knew their fate, they answered coolly, “Oh, yes!” Cambiaso seemed to
intend to surround this execution with all the pomp and solemnity that
he could command. About nine, in the evening, there was a general
rush through the camp. The bugles sounded the death march, the drums
beat, the soldiers were all ordered under arms, and governor Gamero and
the priest Acuna were led out of the barracks. All was still in the
yard after they left, and in a short time I heard the report of their
death shots. They were shot under the same trees to which Mr. Shaw and
captain Talbot had been tied.
In about an hour I was called out of my room, and told that I was
wanted in the yard. I went out doggedly, for this day of excitement
had worn me down into a sort of indifference as to my fate; but the
scene that lay before me when I reached the platform, which, raised
above the rest of the yard, commanded a view of the land beyond the
fortification, roused me at once from my indifference. In the field
north of the barracks, was dug a deep hole, in which a large fire was
kindled, which threw its red light on all around. On the trees, to the
right, hung the dead bodies of Mr. Shaw, captain Talbot, and the boy,
and beneath them were dimly seen the bleeding corpses of the governor
and priest. The rebels were busied around the fire and the bodies,
and Cambiaso, with some mounted officers, were to be seen giving
directions. Soon I saw a cart driven up to the fire, and a dead body
thrown from it into the flames, with as little ceremony as one would
treat a dog. One of my guard standing by me, said, “There goes the
governor.” The bodies of Mr. Shaw, captain Talbot, and the poor English
boy were one by one cut down, and thrust into the fire. The women of
the camp had pleaded with Cambiaso to allow the body of the priest to
be buried, and he, having perhaps some feelings of reverence for his
sacred office, had allowed it to be given into their hands. More fuel
was now heaped on the flames, and their lurid light showed me a scene
which makes me shudder as I recall it.
The soldiers danced round the fire, singing the national hymn of Chili,
and mingling with it shouts and curses, imprecations on the governor,
and threats of vengeance against the remaining prisoners; especially
against captain Salas, the commander of the troops under Gamero, and
against captain Avalos, whose rank as an officer under the government
of Chili seemed to be his only crime. The darkness of the night, the
lurid glare of the flames, the fantastic dancing of the soldiers, the
mingled shouts and curses that met my ear, made every thing appear to
me like some revelry in hell, where the souls of the damned make merry
over their fellow sufferers. On this evening the barque’s papers, also
my private papers, were burnt, with shouts of joy.
I was kept on the platform until the flames had died down, when three
cheers were given by the soldiers around the fire, and answered by
those within the yard; and soon after, I was ordered back to my prison,
to endure another night of anxiety.
The mate eagerly asked me what I thought was going to happen next, but
I answered him shortly, and turned from him, for I felt the necessity
of calming my mind, after such excitement.
That night I passed in close communion with myself, strengthening my
soul to meet whatever might be before me, and rousing my energies to
seize every opportunity to escape from the hands of such blood-thirsty
fiends. The morning found me calmer, and more full of energy and
determination, than any moment since my captivity. If Cambiaso ordered
me to be brought out on the platform in order to intimidate me, he did
not know his man. The sight, instead of depressing me, roused in me a
spirit of revenge, and determined me to retaliate the wrongs which I
had seen inflicted on my friend.
Governor Gamero was a post captain in the Chilian army; his name,
Benjamin Numoz Gamero. I afterwards heard him spoken of as a man of
fine character, and of excellent judgment. Under his directions, the
colony had grown in prosperity and in discipline. He had built some
very comfortable barracks for the soldiers, and some good houses
for the officers. The convicts had been employed in clearing and
cultivating the ground, and intercourse and trade with the Indians of
the country had been encouraged.
The native tribes around the colony had always shown themselves
friendly to the settlement; and, as I learnt, had been in the habit
of coming down to the barracks about once a month, bringing with them
game, and other articles, which they were anxious to exchange for
flour, bread, and so forth. They generally formed themselves on a line,
on the north side of the barracks, and the governor would range his
troops upon the platform, above the fence, and put in their view the
two cannon, the noise of which they had often heard, and of which they
had a superstitious dread. The chiefs would then come forward and meet
the governor outside the fence, and arrange their terms of barter.
Of the clergyman, Acuna, I know but little. The reverence of the women
of the colony for him, certainly speaks in his favor.
The morning of the 4th of December, while the mate and myself were
eating our scanty allowance of hard bread, washed down by the water
which we had taken from the dirty buckets in the guard room, a shout
rose in the yard, “A steamer! a war steamer, with the English flag!”
My heart leaped to my mouth, as I sprung to my feet, and the mate
seemed to gather courage from the very sense of the vicinity of his
countrymen, and from his confidence in the protection of his flag.
One moment’s glance showed me that even amidst their excitement, some
of the guards were watching us from the other room; and managing
to caution the mate by a glance, I endeavored to assume as natural
an air as possible, listening and asking questions as if from mere
curiosity. I gathered from the guard and from the idlers round the
camp who flocked in, that Cambiaso had expressed his determination to
attempt to capture the steamer; that the Chilian flag had been run up
at the flag-staff, and a gun fired to attract the attention of the
steamer, and induce them to come into the harbor and drop anchor. At
last, she was seen to make for the harbor, and to be evidently making
preparations to anchor. Her name, they told me, was the Virago.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
During the last hour, the mate and myself had been forming a thousand
plans by which we hoped to attract the attention of the officers or
men of the steamer, when they landed, and warn them of their own
danger, and of our situation; but our plans were quickly frustrated;
for no sooner had the steamer come to anchor, than the mate and myself
were hurriedly taken from our room, and led across the yard towards a
smaller building. In vain I questioned those who were leading me, as to
where I was going; my only answer was a hasty oath, and an order to be
quiet. The door of the little calaboose was opened, and we were pushed
into a room about eight feet square, and the bolts drawn behind us.
Before me, sitting or lying on the floor, were six haggard looking men,
heavily ironed. I spoke to them in Spanish, but was answered by one of
them in good English, who said, “You are the captain of the American
barque?” I started with surprise, for I immediately thought him an
American; and I saw that he was a gentleman, or something beyond a
common sailor. And what American could be confined there, not belonging
to the Florida? Could there have been another vessel captured by these
pirates, of which I had heard nothing? “Who are you?” I eagerly asked;
“are you an American? How came you in this wretched place?”
He answered that his name was Dunn, and that he was a Brazilian, who
had been employed by governor Gamero as his secretary. That he had
been seized by Cambiaso’s orders, at the time of his insurrection, and
confined in that filthy den ever since.
While he was speaking, one of our guard knocked on the door, and
ordered silence, saying that he would shoot down the first one of us
who troubled him again.
The next three hours we spent in anxious listening to what was going
on without; Mr. Dunn and myself now and then exchanging a word in a
whisper. Every attempt that we made to look from our little window was
prevented by our guard, who stood closely gathered about both door and
window, every now and then looking in upon us. Without, all was very
still and orderly; no noisy rioting to be heard, nothing, save every
now and then the tread of soldiers, or the usual noises attending the
regular military duty of a barrack yard. We expected every moment to
hear the noise of firing, or some shout of exultation, if the officers
of the Virago were entrapped as we had been; but all was quiet.
Towards the middle of the afternoon, the English mate and myself were
taken out, and conducted to our old prison. All was quiet in the
yard, and as I glanced around, I saw no new faces, no change in the
arrangement of the soldiers, no building guarded but those which I had
been accustomed to recognize as prisons for my crew, the crew of the E.
Cornish, and the room where captain Avalos, and the prisoners with him,
were confined.
Arrived at our old home, the guard became more communicative, and
told me that our prison had been changed to keep us out of sight of
the English officers, who had come on shore, visited the barracks,
and the Florida, and had left the harbor without having their
suspicions excited. This chance of escape was lost to us then. I felt
very indignant at what seemed to me the unparalleled stupidity of the
officers of the Virago, and yet it is very possible that had their
suspicions been excited, we might all have fallen victims to the
revengeful spirit of the rebels, before any thing could have been done
for our rescue.
During that evening and the next day, I managed to extract from my
guard and from one or two of my fellow voyagers, the Chilian prisoners,
who had now become almost regular visitors to my room, an account of
all that had occurred during the visit of the Virago to the colony.
On the steamer’s casting anchor, Cambiaso had manifested a great desire
to capture her; probably expecting something of a prize on board of
her, and perhaps wishing to have in his hands so powerful a vessel.
He had called a meeting of his officers, to consult upon the most
advisable plan to pursue, to accomplish the capture. The first plan
proposed, was that which had been so successful in our case and that
of the English brig: to seize the officers as they came on shore, and
kill them at once, to avoid the necessity of employing men to guard
them; then to board the steamer and take her, having first enticed away
as many of the officers and crew as possible. The sight of the big
guns, which showed their teeth all along the side of the steamer; their
knowledge of the excellent discipline on board a British man-of-war; of
the capability of even the smallest midshipman to take command of the
crew in case of the absence of the superior officers, all deterred the
pirates from attempting this plan of capture.
The difficulties in the way of the capture were, I heard, discussed
very freely; general Garcia being most earnest in insisting upon them.
The chief, or rather the first difficulty suggested by him, was that
the officers might come on shore so well attended that a fight might be
necessary, to overcome them; and that the noise of the struggle might
excite the suspicions of those on board, when the whole colony would
be at the mercy of the guns of the Virago. This plan was put to the
vote among the officers, and after voting upon it nine times, it was
rejected. Once, I was told, it came within one vote of being accepted.
The next proposition was worthy of the blood-thirsty wretches. It
was that such officers should be invited to dine with Cambiaso, he
supporting the character of governor of the colony; and that poison
should be mingled with some of the dishes of which the officers were
to partake; but this plan also was rejected. The rebels must have
felt that it was too uncertain, even if human nature did not make
them feel something revolting in it. It was then proposed that some
of the officers of Cambiaso should be sent on board the steamer, with
an invitation to the captain to land, and that they should, on their
return, report the appearance of things. This was agreed to, and the
spies were sent; but their report of the order and discipline on board,
the well manned guns, the well drilled marines, determined Cambiaso to
give up all hopes of capturing the vessel, and to confine himself to
attempting to elude suspicion. The officers of the Virago landed, and
were shown through the fortification and the colony, Cambiaso attending
them. I was told that one of the prisoners, Mr. Dunn, who talked
both English and Spanish, was taken from his prison, and after being
threatened with instant death if he revealed the true state of things,
was employed to interpret for Cambiaso; while at the same time two of
the rebels who had some knowledge of English, were ordered to watch
him, and report any thing which might sound suspicious.
The captain of the Virago asked what vessels those were lying at
anchor. Cambiaso answered that they belonged to him; remarking that the
brig had prisoners on board of her--some of the convicts whom he had
not the conveniences for keeping in close confinement on shore; and
that as the vessel was only used as a prison, there would be nothing
interesting to them in going on board of her.
The captain and officers afterwards visited the Florida, from which
all my crew had been removed except the steward, a negro man, and on
board which were living five or six of Cambiaso’s followers. How the
English officers could be so blind as not to read on the stern of the
barque the name, “Florida, of New Orleans,” and on the brig, “Eliza
Cornish, of Liverpool,” or not to have their suspicions excited, if
they did read those names, is incomprehensible to me. It would seem
that their own common sense would have told them that such a colony
could not hold vessels; or if it did, that the vessels would be
Chilian--not American, or English. I was told that Cambiaso made the
captain a present of eighty or ninety tons of coal, of which the Virago
was in need; but I could not but think there must be some mistake about
this. The coal was perhaps bought by the Virago. Surely, Her British
Majesty’s vessels do not accept such presents as that from the governor
of a small penal colony, on the shores of Patagonia. So large a
quantity of coal would be a very valuable gift in such a place as that,
where all the fuel, except the brush-wood from the scrubby forests
around, must be brought from abroad.
Cambiaso told the captain, whose name I afterwards learnt was Stewart,
that several of his prisoners had escaped, and were now lurking about
the woods at Port Famine; and if, on the steamer’s anchoring there
to take in some of this coal, which lay on the shore, any of these
prisoners should wish to be taken on board the Virago, he wished
captain Stewart to order his men to drive them away, and to hold no
communication with them. Some of the soldiers who escaped with the
governor, had, it appears, never been re-taken, and Cambiaso feared
their report to the English vessel.
It seems to me another instance of stupidity in captain Stewart, that
he should have swallowed unsuspiciously this story of Cambiaso’s. Would
it not have been much more probable that Cambiaso would have asked
their assistance in recapturing his prisoners, and requested the Virago
to retain them until he could send for them? I could not but feel that
all these things, or indeed, half of them, would have been enough to
have opened the eyes of even a moderately “cute” Yankee. But perhaps
some allowance for my impatience at the blindness of the English
officers is to be made, when we consider how much this chance of escape
was to me, and how bitterly I lamented its loss.
My fellow prisoner and myself were sad enough during the rest of that
evening, as we heard that the Virago had left Port Famine, and was now
out of sight.
CHAPTER V.
We are better treated--Captain Avalos again--His privations--The
sergeant shot--Mr. Buela--Cambiaso’s discipline--His code of
laws--Personal appearance--His vanity--Threats of poison--Improved
fare--The coffee--The mate secures the E. Cornish--Cambiaso and
Garcia visit me--I go on board the Florida--My steward.
After the departure of the steamer, the severity of our imprisonment
was very much relaxed. The prisoners were allowed to walk about every
day, accompanied by a guard, and were even allowed some communication
with each other. I saw captain Avalos again, and shook hands earnestly
with him. He told me that he had thought that I had been shot with
captain Talbot and Mr. Shaw. Captain Avalos had been confined in the
same building with captain Salas, and with the first lieutenant of
the troops under Gamero, of whom Cambiaso had been second lieutenant.
He told me that captain Salas had made several attempts to hold
communication with some of the soldiers under his command, but that
they had been strictly watched by Cambiaso, who feared treachery. One
morning, before the execution of Mr. Shaw and the governor, a sergeant
who had formerly been a convict, but had been promoted for good conduct
was detected receiving a bottle of brandy from captain Salas, and was
immediately seized, tried by a summary court martial, and put to death
as a traitor, under the sanguinary code established by Cambiaso. After
this, the officers in confinement had been more strictly watched, and
forbidden to hold any communication with the soldiers on duty.
Mr. Dunn, the secretary, I often met in my walks, and we generally
managed to exchange a greeting, and to convey some information to each
other in English, as we passed. Mr. Buela I also saw again at this
time. He had suffered much privation, being confined in the same room
of six feet square in which he was first put with my crew, where they
were so crowded that they were obliged to stand up most of the time.
It was good policy in me to cultivate all friendly relations with my
captors; and for this reason, I began, at this time, to mingle in their
sports, at least as a spectator. In the evenings, the men and women
would often collect under a large tent, and dance the Fandango, the so
well known Spanish dance. They danced it with handkerchiefs, waving
them as each couple separated and retired to the right and left. One
evening Cambiaso came up to me as I was standing by the tent ropes, and
asked me to join the dance. I had no heart to do this, but pleaded in
excuse my American ignorance of the figures. These evenings generally
ended with a feast--a pig or calf barbecued.
One night’s rude and cruel amusement I cannot even now think of without
a shudder. All the dogs of the encampment were driven into a circle,
and then chased with clubs. The cries of the poor frightened animals,
the howlings of those who were knocked down, rang in my ears all night;
and next morning their carcasses could be seen lying around on every
side.
I also did my best, during my walks, to keep up my friendly
intercourse with the prisoners I had brought down to the Straits with
me, and who had been allowed their liberty, on swearing allegiance
to Cambiaso. Some of them were very friendly, and brought me such
information as they thought would interest me. From them I learnt much
of the discipline which Cambiaso had established, and of the sanguinary
code of laws which he had drawn up.
Immediately after the escape of the governor, and the success of the
insurrection, Cambiaso was proclaimed Commandante by the rebels.
Afterwards his title was Major General, and Garcia’s, General, or
_little_ general, as he was called by most of the soldiers, by way
of distinction. On the same day, by order of Cambiaso, the hospital,
chapel, with all the sacred vessels on the altar, the house and robes
of the priest, were burnt; Cambiaso declaring that he would have
nothing to do with any religious rites. A red flag was hoisted, having
upon it a scull and cross-bones, with the motto, “I give no quarter;”
and upon it the soldiers and released convicts all swore fidelity.
This flag I often saw raised in the colony, on parade days, during
my imprisonment. I give below the code of laws, a copy of which I
afterwards obtained at Valparaiso. Of its atrocity I need say nothing,
as it speaks for itself.
MILITARY CRIMES,
AND THEIR CORRESPONDING PUNISHMENTS.
ARTICLE I.
Every inferior who speaks disrespectfully of his superior officer,
shall be immediately shot.
ART. II.
Every inferior who should raise his hand against his superior
officer, shall be immediately hung.
ART. III.
If an inferior strikes his superior officers, with or without arms,
he shall be burnt alive.
ART. IV.
He who should be a traitor to the flag we have sworn, shall be cut in
pieces, alive, and afterwards burnt.
ART. V.
He who is guilty of perjury, incurs the same punishment.
ART. VI.
He who communicates with the enemy, incurs the same punishment.
ART. VII.
He who speaks against the service, incurs the same punishment.
ART. VIII.
ROBBERY. He who steals any object, money, or any article whatsoever,
shall be hung.
ART. IX.
WANT OF PUNCTUALITY. If any person in the military service, (no
matter in what capacity,) be wanting in his duty, and does not
present himself in the place and at the hour at which he has been
ordered to appear, he shall be tried and shot.
ART. X.
COWARDICE. Every man who, for want of courage, flies from the enemy,
shall be put to death by the bayonet; and his eyes shall be taken
out to prove the fact. The body of a coward shall be burnt.
ART. XI.
If any traitor be seized, his tongue shall be cut out, it being the
instrument of his falsehood. He shall be burnt with a red hot iron,
and he shall afterwards suffer the punishments he has incurred,
according to Articles 4th, 5th, and 6th.
ART. XII.
Sentinels found asleep at their posts, shall be immediately hung;
they being the only persons responsible for said post’s security.
Therefore, the sergeants are requested to visit the posts every ten
minutes, for the observation of this article.
ART. XIII.
He who in battle gives quarter to an enemy, out of pity, or any other
consideration, shall be immediately shot.
ART. XIV.
The officer, sergeant, or soldier who is not vigilant when on guard,
shall be tried and shot.
ART. XV.
The infractor of any of these laws, if an officer, shall be hung; if
a soldier, shot.
ART. XVI.
All military persons are charged with the fulfilment of the preceding
articles. This is particularly recommended to superior officers: and
they are requested to inform their troops that want of information
on this head will not excuse them from undergoing the punishments
expressed.
ART. XVII.
He who should steal or hide (or abet another in so doing,) any
powder, balls, or article of war, shall be burnt alive.
ART. XVIII.
He who in battle or on march should throw away the cartridges given
him, desirous of not injuring the enemy, or of relieving himself of
their weight, shall be cut in pieces alive, joint by joint, beginning
in preference with the fingers of the right hand. His remains shall
afterwards be burnt.
ART. XIX.
If, on arriving in any province, a _Montista_ be discovered, his
house shall be sacked, and the owner or tenant thereof shall be burnt
in the said house.
ART. XX.
If any person in the troops under my command sells any article with
usury, he shall receive one hundred lashes.
ART. XXI.
The chiefs of this division, desirous of preventing all fraud,
prohibit, under pain of the gallows, any attempt to give money on
gage, or with any kind of interest.
ART. XXII.
He who, from this time forward, should lend money on gage, shall lose
all right to the gage given him; losing also what he gave on it, and
receiving two hundred lashes in punishment.
ART. XXIII.
The sentinel or advanced post who on seeing the enemy approach, does
not give the alarm, shall be cut in pieces alive; considering that
from his omission great danger may arise.
ART. XXIV.
The chief, officer, sergeant, or soldier who shall not defend his
post unto death, shall be burnt alive; no excuse to be admitted on
account of the greater force of the enemy, the bad state of the
armament, or any thing else tending to cover his cowardice.
ART. XXV.
Any officer ordered to assault a post, shall take it, or lose his
life in the attempt; if he returns unsuccessful, though he have lost
all his soldiers, he shall be immediately shot.
ART. XXVI.
If any sentinel gives the “_qui vive_” and does not receive in
answer, “General Cruz,” he shall immediately fire at the person
interrogated.
ART. XXVII.
This government, desirous that every individual shall preserve his
money, and employ it for useful objects, prohibits all kinds of
hazardous games; and if any is resorted to in order to while away
time, it must be lottery, and without interest. He who infringes this
article, shall be hung.
ART. XXVIII.
An ounce of gold shall be given to every body who gives information
of the infringement of the preceding Article.
ART. XXIX.
Any sentinel who abandons the post committed to his care, shall be
pinched with red hot tongs until he expires. After this, his body
shall be exposed publicly during eight days; after which it shall be
burnt, and its ashes cast into the air.
Given in the camp of Punta Arena, December 13, 1851.
On reading over this code of laws and punishments, many proofs may be
seen of either present or intended communication with the insurgents in
the province of Conception, under general Cruz. Articles 18, 19, and
25 would indicate that Cambiaso had in contemplation a march through
the country, to join his forces with those of the revolutionists. By “a
Montista,” is meant an adherent of the government at Santiago, under
President Monté.
At this time, I very frequently saw Cambiaso; sometimes on horseback,
surrounded by his aids; sometimes walking on the parade ground. He
rode well, and generally on a very spirited horse; and always went
armed with sword, dirk knife and pistol. His personal appearance was
fine;--an open forehead, a fair complexion, with a profusion of dark
hair, an ample moustache, and heavy beard. His nose was aquiline, and
his profile finely marked, and what an artist would call the coloring
of his face, was admirable; the bright red lips, fair forehead, and
dark hair, softened down by the lighter colored beard and moustache,
gave a beauty to his face that would have been a study for a painter.
But his eyes revealed the evil passions hid under that fair exterior.
They were long, and dark, and hid under their lashes, from beneath
which he cast sudden and covert glances. When he was talking to me, he
never looked steadily at me, but after ending his remarks, would give
me a sideway glance, as if marking the effect of what he said; and in
that glance there was something to me stealthy and cat-like. After I
observed this, I always took care, during our conversations, to look
him directly in the eye, as if afraid I might lose a word, but in fact
because I felt and knew that he could not endure any look, much less
one so intently given.
From my observation of his character, I should not have called him a
brave man. He was very vain, very fond of being admired, and often to
gain the applause of his own men, would assume an air of bravado; and
doubtless the same love of admiration would have led him into daring
acts; but he talked too much of his valor, to impress me with any
strong belief in it. He doubtless had the animal courage which belongs
to an uneducated man, and one brought up in the profession of arms;
but I am convinced that in any situation calling for self reliance and
presence of mind, his boasted courage would have failed him. But I am
giving now rather the conclusions I drew from all I ever knew of him,
than any opinion I could form at this time.
Cambiaso was a young man, not more than twenty-five or six years of
age; in person, rather thin than stout, and of not more than middle
size. He was vain of his beauty, and fond of ornaments. The day after
my capture, he sent word to me that he wanted my watch and chain. I
handed them to the officer who brought the message. The watch I never
saw again; but the chain I sometimes recognized among the ornaments on
Cambiaso’s person.
Indeed, it was no uncommon thing for me to recognize my own pistols,
cutlasses, and so forth, carried by the officers and guards
who surrounded me. And I am conscious of a singular feeling of
indignation,--or, to use a more accurate word, of impatience--which
would cross my mind whenever I reflected that I might at any moment
receive my death-wound from a stroke or a shot from one of my own
weapons. At this time I was destitute of even a change of clothing;
my trunks, with those of all my passengers, being left on board the
Florida, and soon broken open and rifled of their contents, by Cambiaso
and his men.
In my conversations with Cambiaso, which now occurred very frequently,
I often begged permission to go on board my vessel, and be under guard
there, knowing that some of his followers, with their wives, were
living on board the Florida; but his answer constantly was, “No: I am
making up my mind what to do with you all.” At times he would threaten
to shoot us at once; this was when he was made angry by reports of the
trouble which the care of us gave. These threats were reported to me by
the Chilian prisoners; but during his conversations with me, he never
broke out into violent expressions, but seemed rather to keep a control
over himself, as if to impress me with a sense of his self command.
A few days after the visit of the Virago, I was told that Cambiaso
had been heard to say that he had made up his mind to poison me. This
seemed to me so idle a threat, when he had me so completely in his
power, that it did not make much impression upon me, until I found that
a great difference was made in our fare. We were allowed to eat with
the guards in the outer apartment, instead of having our food brought
to our own room; and the dishes put before us were much better than I
had formerly seen served to the soldiers.
I told my suspicions to the mate, and we determined to taste only
those dishes which we saw the soldiers eat of. This, however, it was
difficult to do when any new dish was sent to us, for the guard being
first served, would eat ravenously of the delicacy, and often leave
nothing for us.
One morning, a cup of coffee was sent to me, and to me alone, from
Cambiaso’s own table. I put it down before me, and hesitated; for the
conviction flashed across me that the poison was in this coffee; but
looking up, I saw the eyes of all the soldiers and the mate fixed upon
me. They had all heard of Cambiaso’s threat, and probably the same idea
was in their minds as in mine. Their fixed gaze roused my pride, and
reflecting that I might as well drink it first as last, and indeed,
that my death by Cambiaso’s hands in one way or other was almost
certain, I raised the cup and drank the coffee at one draught. No evil
consequences followed, and from that time a cup was sent me every
morning; but I never could divest myself of the idea that into some of
them the poison would be put.
The weather throughout the time of our imprisonment had been very warm,
but interrupted by heavy north-west winds, which swept from between
the hills, and sometimes drove across the harbor. The E. Cornish and
the Florida had been anchored by the rebels, with two anchors each;
but this was done in a very unseamanlike manner, and in one of these
high winds the E. Cornish began to drag her anchors. This was reported
to me by some of the friendly Chilians, who had been on board, and I
began to fear that we should lose the brig. Not that I had any definite
idea of any succor which could arise to us from Cambiaso’s retaining
the vessels, but they seemed a tie between ourselves and our homes;
and as long as they were safe, we had at least the means by which we
could leave the place, in case it was ever in our power so to do.
I therefore advised the mate to send word to Cambiaso by one of his
guards, that if he was allowed to go on board his vessel, he could
remedy the difficulty; and at the same time I told all our visitors,
who were quite plenty at this time, that they should use their
influence with the general, to allow the mate to secure the brig for
them.
Cambiaso immediately sent an order for the mate to be sent off to the
E. Cornish in one of the shore boats, accompanied by three or four of
his soldiers, as guards. This was in the evening; and after he left,
I was visited by several of the officers, and at last by Cambiaso
himself. I fancied I saw some anxiety amongst them, with regard to the
mate’s proceedings. They were so ignorant of all that pertained to
navigation, that I believe they thought it possible for one man to
navigate a vessel by himself, and had some idea that the mate’s request
to go on board was part of a concerted plan between us, by which he
could make his escape, and bring succor to the other prisoners. The
next morning the wind shifted, and blew directly in shore very fresh,
with a heavy sea. Cambiaso at once ran up a flag on the flag-staff, as
a signal for the boat to return to shore. I was walking on the platform
at the time, and saw her leave the vessel, with four men in her; but
the distance was too great for me to distinguish whether or no the
mate was among them. As the boat neared the shore, and got among the
breakers, I could see that she was rowed very unsteadily, as if by
landsmen. Suddenly she was capsized, and the men in the water. Three
of the men struggled to the shore, but the fourth was drowned. He never
rose after the first struggle. As the remainder came into the barracks,
I pressed eagerly forward, to see if my fellow prisoner was with them,
and learned that he had remained on the brig. The circumstance of his
remaining, added to their half formed suspicions, and during the rest
of that day, I was obliged to calm the hourly increasing excitement,
by assuring each new visitor to my prison, that the mate was doubtless
doing his best to make the brig hold to her anchors; that it was not
yet safe for him to leave her, and so forth. That evening, to my great
relief, he made his appearance, and I immediately gave him his cue as
to what account he should give of his delay. I felt, however, that I
had run a great risk, which nothing but the strongest necessity should
make me incur again.
During the third week in December, I had frequent visits from Cambiaso
and Garcia, during which they questioned me very closely in regard to
my knowledge of navigation, sometimes turning to the English mate,
and comparing his answer with mine. They asked what I knew of the
navigation of the Straits; and would often seem to be cross-examining
me with regard to the lay of the shore, and the appearance of the
headlands.
I took advantage of their visits, to beg for more indulgence to my
crew, who were still shut up in the crowded place where they had first
been put, and deprived of almost the necessaries of existence; but it
was evident, from Cambiaso’s answers, that he had not yet determined
what course to take with regard to us.
About the 20th of the month, I received permission from Cambiaso to go
on board my vessel, and remain there; and on the same day my crew were
released from their prison, and allowed to run at large in the yard,
and cook for themselves. After my long confinement in the barracks,
under the constant supervision of the guard, never allowed to eat or
sleep without being watched, the Florida seemed like home to me, and
the face of my steward like that of an old friend. He had been kept on
board to cook for the men who were living in the Florida, at the head
of whom was an officer by the name of Tapia, (the one who brought my
first and second letters to me,) and his wife. My steward had often
asked for me while I was on shore, and Tapia would sometimes tease
him, by telling him that I was shot or hung, that he would never see
me again, and so forth; at which he would cry like a child; and when
he saw me come on board, he danced and skipped around me with a true
negro-like expression of delight.
I asked him if he wanted to stay in that country with those rebels and
pirates. “No, massa; no, massa Captain,” he replied, “I want to be
with you; I feel safe while you are by me.”
CHAPTER VI.
Comparative comfort--The American ensign--Christmas day--My visit
to the barracks--The Indian boys--Cambiaso’s rage--Execution
of the Indian woman--The cattle slaughtered--Escape of the
Indians--Fears of the rebels--Preparations for leaving--The Florida
re-christened--Interview with Cambiaso--The embarking of the
colonists--Prisoners sent to the Florida.
After my removal to the Florida, I made myself comparatively
comfortable, with the help of my steward Tom, who seemed as if he
could never do enough for me. I was allowed to take possession of my
state-room, and found some few of my personal effects lying about the
vessel, which I took the liberty of taking possession of. Tom had two
of my shirts, which he had washed in his best manner, and hid for
me. The luxury of a change of clothes and a good bath, was delightful
to me. Tom was allowed to do my cooking at the same time that he did
Tapia’s, our rations being brought from the barracks. I used to eat my
meals, sitting on the deck, it being then the height of summer, and
very warm most of the time, in the cabin.
One morning, in loitering on the deck, I saw the American ensign, which
had been ignominiously thrown behind a coil of rope. I glanced around,
and finding that no one was observing me, raised it, and hurried with
it to my state room, concealing it beneath my mattrass.
I found the Florida much injured by the neglect and rough usage she had
undergone. Many of her sails were destroyed, her running and standing
gear cut up, and one of her quarter boats lost. This grieved me very
much; and with Tom’s aid, I endeavored gradually to repair such of the
injuries as it was in my power to mend, thinking that the time might
come when the vessel might enable us to make our escape.
The morning of Christmas Day dawned, bringing to me so many sad
recollections that I became nervously restless, and unable to remain
quietly on board my vessel. Every thing seemed to remind me of home,
by the very force of contrast; the wild, foreign faces around me; the
strange language, made harsh by oaths and curses, which greeted my
ear; the summer vegetation; the heat--all so opposed to every thing
associated with the season in my mind; the recollection of the terrible
scenes I had passed through; of my present danger, and of what might
be still before me--all pressed upon me, until some change of place
seemed to me absolutely necessary.
I determined to go on shore; so, taking a boat, accompanied by Tapia
and some of his men, we rowed ashore, and soon reached the barracks.
Here, every thing was in confusion--such confusion, that I quickly
wished myself back again on board the barque. The soldiers were mostly
under arms, the released prisoners and my crew standing in groups on
the parade ground; and, looking towards Cambiaso’s house, which was
in the middle of the yard, I saw him standing at the door, talking to
Garcia, and apparently in a state of great excitement. Not willing to
come under his notice in his present mood, I passed quietly around the
yard, looking for somebody from whom I could obtain information.
Mr. Dunn I could not see, he being still under guard, confined with
captains Avalos and Salas; but I soon met my old fellow-prisoner, the
English mate, and from him and some of the Chilians I gathered the
cause of the uproar.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
There had been several visits from the Indians during the last week
or two, and there was some reason to suppose that some of these late
visitors had come as spies. The herdsmen who had the charge of the
cattle belonging to the colony, had reported that they had of late
seen Indians, armed, lurking around the cattle, and hanging about the
woods which surrounded the cantonment. This had roused Cambiaso’s
suspicions, and on the day after I removed to the Florida, he had
seized two Indian boys who had been living some time in the barracks,
and, apparently with the design of intimidating the Indians, had
ordered them to be conveyed to a point about two miles distant, at a
place where the Indians were accustomed to pass, on their way to the
barracks. There they were hung by the neck to the trees, and lanced to
death, their cheeks and noses being cut off.
On Christmas morning, an Indian woman had appeared at the gate,
requesting to enter and visit her son, who was in the barracks. She
was carried before Cambiaso, and being questioned by him as to the
movements of the Indians, and when they were coming to make another
visit for barter, she contradicted herself continually. She confessed
that she had seen the bodies of the Indian boys, but being asked who
was with her when she saw them, she at first said, “No one;” then said
she had been sent to the yard by one of the chiefs,--then that he was
angry about the death of the boys. While she was being questioned, the
herdsmen came hurrying into the camp, with the news that the Indians
were killing the cattle, and carrying them off.
[Illustration]
Cambiaso mustered his mounted troops hurriedly, arming them with
muskets and clubs; and then, leaving the Indian woman under guard, he
hastened out with his men in pursuit of the marauders. The Indians
soon took the alarm, and mounting their swift horses, were off before
him, leaving the slaughtered cattle lying on their pasture ground. He,
however, soon put his men on the track, and leaving them to follow the
Indians, returned on the gallop to the barracks, terribly exasperated.
He rode in and called to the guard to bring out the Indian woman,
crying, “Drag her out! kill her! shoot her down, she shall tell me no
more lies!” She was dragged out before him, resisting with all her
might, and pleading for her life, asking for her son, praying for his
help. Her prayers were useless, and were not even listened to. Cambiaso
himself collected a file of soldiers, and ordered her to be dragged to
a tree and tied there. He gave the order to fire himself. Six or eight
bullets struck her, but still she writhed in agony, and continued her
shrieks for help. One of the soldiers, at a nod from Cambiaso, walked
up to her and struck her on the head with a club, which silenced her
for ever. Her dead body was hanging to the tree when I entered the
yard.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The English mate, from whom I got most of this information, and who
had been suffered to go at large almost unwatched since I left the
barracks, told me that he had never seen Cambiaso in such a fiendish
passion; that Garcia had tried to quiet him, but without the least
effect.
The troops were still out, following the Indians, and great anxiety
was expressed in the yard that they might overtake and capture them.
The general opinion seemed to be that the Indians, seeing the weakened
and disorderly state of the colony, had formed a plan to make a sudden
attack upon them, and massacre them all, for the sake of the booty
which they would secure. From what I gathered, I concluded that a
party of Indians had come down the pass on their way to visit the
barracks, when, finding the dead bodies of the boys on their road, they
had sent the woman on as a spy. Why they had commenced slaughtering and
driving off the cattle, without waiting for her return, I could not
tell, unless the herdsmen were so few and so easily to be overpowered
that the temptation was too great for them.
At about one in the afternoon, I succeeded in persuading Tapia and his
men to put off again for the barque, and happy indeed was I to find
myself again on board of her.
I determined not to go ashore again unless I was compelled to, and to
keep as much out of Cambiaso’s way as possible. Fifty plans of escape
had crossed my mind. Sometimes to leave the vessel, and strike across
the country among the Indians--but from that, the fear of starvation
deterred me; sometimes to get enough of my crew and of the prisoners
friendly to me on board the vessel to navigate her, and make our escape
in that way; but the Florida lay right under the guns of the fort, and
the impossibility of getting her under weigh was too evident. Besides,
I felt a great reluctance to any plan of escape which would leave my
fellow sufferers, Mr. Dunn, captain Avalos, and so forth, still in the
hands of the pirates. There seemed to be nothing but to wait the course
of events, and avail myself of any favorable circumstance that might
occur.
On the morning of the 26th, several men from the barracks came on board
to visit us, as they sometimes did, and from them we learned that the
soldiers sent after the Indians had returned without being able to
overtake them, after following them for twelve hours; and that there
was a good deal of anxiety on shore, lest the Indians should come up in
force and attack them in the night.
I had felt some desire to see one of the native Patagonians, having
still my school-boy belief that they were giants, as our geographies
generally inform us. During my imprisonment at the barracks, one or two
of the men had visited the yard, and I had seen them from my window.
They were certainly large in stature, but by no means came up to the
measure of my boyish imagination. They had heretofore shown themselves
friendly towards the colonists, being probably kept in awe by governor
Gamero, and the strict discipline which he enforced; but they were
said to be very far from cowardly, and very savage and inhuman when
roused by the excitement of fighting. I had often thought that Cambiaso
had some dread of them, judging from two or three remarks about them
which he had made to me from time to time.
For two or three days after this disturbance by the Indians, a sharp
lookout was kept by Cambiaso, and every visit to the Florida from
the shore gave me accounts of the alarm of the rebels. At last, I
heard that we were all to leave the place, and the settlement was to
be abandoned. I eagerly asked Tapia, from whom I heard this, if he
would tell me where we were going; but I found he knew no more of our
destination than I did: indeed, it was only from what he had observed
on shore, and from the surmises of the men around him, that he had
drawn his conclusion. I felt very anxious to go on shore and try to
discover for myself how much truth there was in this report, but the
remembrance of my last visit and its risks deterred me. I could only
question Tapia, who went to the fort very often, and who seemed as
anxious as myself to know what was to be done. It was evident that the
men did not trust Cambiaso; that they feared his securing the treasure
and one of the vessels, and abandoning them to the mercy of the Indians
or to the Chilian government, when the news of the insurrection should
reach Valparaiso. This seemed not improbable; but for myself, I judged
it more likely that Cambiaso was making some preparation to join the
insurgent party under general Cruz, in the province of Conception,
for I was convinced that he had in some way held communication with
them before he rose against governor Gamero. He had several times
in his conversations with me, declared himself a sworn partisan of
general Cruz; and once, in answer to my complaint of the outrages
committed against my vessel and myself, he had said that if general
Cruz succeeded in overthrowing the government at Santiago, everything
connected with my case should be satisfactorily adjusted, and that I
should have no reason to complain. In speaking thus, he must of course
have referred to my pecuniary losses. No reparation could be made to
me or to his friends, for the barbarities inflicted upon my friend,
Mr. Shaw; but in Cambiaso’s scale of injuries, the loss of property
probably stood highest. Somewhere about the 29th or 30th of December,
several workmen were sent on board the Florida, evidently for the
purpose of making preparation for her departure. Her name, which was
beautifully painted on her stern, was smeared over, a fresh coat of
paint put on, and the word “Inesperado,” (_the unexpected_,) inserted
in its place. Wood, water and provisions in great quantities were sent
to the Florida and the Eliza Cornish, and the two vessels were put in
as good order as could be expected from such unseamanlike workmen.
These workmen took the opportunity to ransack the two vessels,
secreting everything of value that they could lay their hands on, and
throwing overboard what they thought useless. Among other things, they
came across some bags of silver ore which had been overlooked in
the former searching of the Eliza Cornish, and doubtless would have
appropriated this treasure to the deep, if the English mate had not
been standing by them at the time of the discovery, and threatened to
inform against them. The bags were worth about two hundred dollars
apiece.
On the morning of the last day of the year, Cambiaso himself came on
board, attended by his aids, fully armed, and evidently intending to
surround himself with all that could impress us with an idea of his
authority. He went into the cabin, and then sent for me to come to him.
When I entered, he was seated by the table, with his pistols lying
before him, and dressed in his full regimentals. He received me with
much politeness, and offered me a seat; then commenced by telling me
that the marks of hostility shown to the colony by the Indians, and
the difficulty of obtaining supplies for his followers, had determined
him to abandon the place, and that he had made up his mind to keep
me with him, to navigate the vessel; and that he expected me to use
my utmost skill, and to obey his orders to the letter, with regard
to the course of the vessel. I answered him very coolly, that he had
left me no choice; since I was entirely in his power, I must perforce
obey his orders; that with regard to using my utmost skill, I had too
much regard for my own life and the lives of my crew in that perilous
navigation, not to do my best. My coolness did not seem to offend
him, for he smiled as I spoke, and rising, said, “You shall be well
watched, Sir Captain, and it will go hard with you if you give any
cause for suspicion.” After going through the vessel and giving some
orders to his workmen, he prepared to leave, when I said to him that
if he would give me authority, I would give directions to the workmen
in regard to such repairs as the vessel might need to render her
sea-worthy. To this he assented, apparently with much satisfaction, and
entering the boat, his men pushed off for the shore.
New Year’s Day dawned, clear, bright, and summer-like, and early in the
morning the boats were all busily engaged in bringing off the colonists
to the two vessels. My crew and the crew of the Eliza Cornish were sent
on board their respective vessels, and my old companion, the English
mate, was put in command of the E. Cornish.
We had a busy time of it on that New Year’s Day. Men, women, children,
provisions, water, camp furniture, and so forth, were crowded on board
our vessels, and my ingenuity was taxed to the utmost to make stowage
for them all. About two hundred of the colonists were put on board the
Eliza Cornish, and nearly two hundred and sixty on board the Florida.
Cambiaso, with Garcia, and his other officers, took possession of the
cabin and state-rooms, taking with them Mr. Dunn, captain Avalos,
and some others. The rest were crowded into the hold with the common
soldiers. I was allowed to retain my state-room, as captain of the
vessel, and my mates and crew were put under my command. The treasure
was stored in Cambiaso’s state-room, or near there, nailed up in heavy
wooden boxes. I found that all the prisoners of any importance were
to be put in the Florida, probably to retain them under Cambiaso’s own
supervision. Captain Salas, however, was sent to the E. Cornish.
Among our passengers were about a hundred goats; and as we had no pens
to confine them in, a few dogs were sent with them as guards, whose
duty it was to keep them within bounds. Two dozen hogs were to share
the privileges of the deck with the goats.
On the evening of the 1st of January I managed to exchange a few words
with captain Avalos and Mr. Dunn, who had been sent on board just
before dark. They told me that everything of value had been taken from
the fort, what was portable sent to the vessels, and any things too
heavy to carry away, and too valuable to be left to the Indians, had
been buried in different spots around the cantonment and in the yard of
the barracks, by order of Cambiaso. It seemed to them that he meditated
a return to the colony, in case he met with any difficulties in
navigating the vessel, and that therefore he was unwilling to abandon
any thing to the Indians. We were not able to talk long, as some of the
officers were standing by, and evidently watching us.
CHAPTER VII.
Cambiaso’s orders--We set sail--Wood’s Bay--The old French ship--A
drunken riot--The officer condemned--Garcia’s interference--Men
deserted at Wood’s Bay--The Eliza Cornish left behind--Stormy
weather--Sandy Bay again--The Indians--Cape Gregory--Interview with
Cambiaso--His promises--Conversation with Mr. Dunn--My determination.
The 2d of January saw us all ready for sea, and early in the morning
Cambiaso came on board. He called me into his state-room, and after
renewing his threats, in case he saw any signs of my disobeying his
orders, he gave me a written paper, on which were my directions for
navigating the vessel. I opened it before him, thinking that if I saw
the necessity of making any remarks about them, it would be better
to do it at once. The paper directed me to go westward through the
Straits to Cape Pillar; thence west-by-north 1-4 north to 82 deg. west
longitude; then northerly to the latitude of the island of Marica;
thence for that island, coming to anchor on the east side, and waiting
for further orders. The Eliza Cornish was to follow the Florida, and at
night both vessels were to display a signal lantern at mast head.
He remarked, when I had finished reading, that these were only my
general directions; that I must look to him for more particular orders
from day to day; and that while the vessels were within the Straits, he
should often want to anchor at different points.
At about ten o’clock in the morning, a signal gun was fired from the
Florida, and both vessels weighed anchor and got under way for the
westward. We made but slow work and little progress, both vessels being
somewhat out of repair from a month’s neglect, and the standing and
running rigging being very much chafed and worn. On Saturday, the 3d,
we reached Port Famine, and there were ordered to lay over till Monday
morning, during which time the men were employed in getting in more
wood and water, while I was fully occupied in stowing our numerous
passengers more closely, and if possible, more comfortably. In this
labor I received much assistance from Mr. Dunn and captain Avalos,
whose situation I endeavored to render as comfortable as possible, and
whose fare I supplied from my own mess.
Sunday evening, as I was standing on the deck, one of the men from the
hold passed me with a bundle under his arm, and approaching the side
of the vessel, was about to throw it over. I stopped him, asking what
it was. He carelessly turned down the covering and showed me the body
of a child who had been born the evening the colonists came on board,
and who had died that morning. The brute, who I suppose was the father,
had attached pieces of iron to the cloth which covered the poor little
thing, to insure its sinking. I compelled him to go on shore and bury
it, ordering him by my authority as captain of the ship. I took every
occasion to exercise this authority, thinking it might be of advantage
to me in the future. The mother died during our voyage.
We got under way again on Monday morning, and reached St. Nicholas Bay
by the evening of the 6th. Here we lay over all night, and on Wednesday
morning continued our course westward until Thursday afternoon, when
we came in sight of Wood’s Bay, Cape Holland. Cambiaso sent for me as
we neared the harbor, and informed me that he intended to lie in this
anchorage for some time. His object was to get some liquor out of an
old French ship which had been wrecked there some time ago, and which
still lay with the greater part above water. We came to anchor in the
evening, and the next morning the soldiers were sent on shore to unload
the wreck, and rescue what liquor was still untouched by the water.
Some barrels and casks were brought out whole, and immediately
transferred to the Florida; but many were stove in, either purposely
or by accident, and then commenced a scene of drunken rioting
and disorder which lasted for three or four days. Officers, men,
sailors,--all were intoxicated; and Cambiaso and Garcia seemed to have
as little control over them as I had. Indeed, the temptation sometimes
proved too strong for Cambiaso himself; and Mr. Dunn, Garcia, and
myself were almost the only men who preserved full possession of our
senses.
I remember one case in which I used my authority as master of the ship
somewhat rashly. The occupant of one of the state-rooms, the doctor of
the colony under governor Gamero, and a Frenchman, had drank enough to
make him noisily troublesome, both in the cabin and on deck. At last
he went out on the jib-boom, hallooing and shouting. I called to him
to come in, but finding he paid no attention to me, I sent the only
seaman I had on board out after him. This proved equally unavailing,
and, losing all patience, I sprang out myself, collared him, and thrust
him into his state-room. I fully expected that he would complain of me
to Cambiaso, and that I might have to suffer for my rash assumption of
authority; but I never heard from him again.
By Sunday night the rioting seemed to have worn itself out, and the
men, having slept off their intoxication, began to return to their
duty. That night, however, Cambiaso was in a terrible humor, swearing
at all around him, and giving most contradictory orders, which it was
impossible to observe. One of his officers unluckily offended him by
venturing to remonstrate, when Cambiaso in his half drunken passion,
ordered him to be put in irons and sent on board the Eliza Cornish,
accompanied by a file of soldiers, and at twelve at night to be tied
to the mast and shot down. The men obeyed; but I noticed the muttered
indignation of the other officers, and general Garcia, after Cambiaso
had retired to the cabin, stepped forward to the officer under whose
direction the removal was made, and who was to control the execution,
and, under the plea that Cambiaso was under the influence of liquor
and might alter his order, he gave the officer authority to delay the
execution for an hour or two, or at least till he heard again from
himself. I watched the countenance of the condemned man as he went
towards the boat, but could read nothing on it but sturdy, obstinate
defiance and indignation, until, just as he was leaving the deck, a
woman’s scream was heard. It was his wife, who, occupied in the hold
of the vessel, had heard nothing of what was going on until this
moment, and now rushed on deck with her children hanging round her. The
man’s face twitched as she flung herself into his arms, crying most
piteously; but the soldiers quickly took her away from him, and hurried
him on board the boat. I went up to the woman and endeavored to console
her, by telling her of general Garcia’s interference, but between my
broken Spanish and her sobs, I am afraid very little of what I said
reached her mind.
Garcia had left the deck and gone to Cambiaso’s state-room, where he
remained for about two hours, soothing Cambiaso and pleading for the
officer’s life. At last he came out successful. A boat was sent to the
Eliza Cornish, the officer brought back and restored to his wife. This
and other humane actions of general Garcia, made much impression on me
at the time, and inclined me to believe his assertions made afterwards,
that he had only joined Cambiaso on compulsion, and from fear for his
life.
Monday, the 12th, a terrible storm raged; but in the afternoon,
Cambiaso began to send some of the men on shore, as he said, to wash
their clothes. This seemed to me a strange proceeding, and I watched
his movements in some anxiety. By night about forty-four were landed,
and on the last return of the boat, it was hoisted up and put in its
place. Cambiaso then, under his own directions, had our four-pounders
and swivel gun loaded with two balls each--the swivel gun pointed
towards the stern. When this was accomplished, orders were sent to the
Eliza Cornish to weigh anchor and go in shore. The Eliza Cornish had
but two guns on board, and was not utterly defenceless. It was said by
Cambiaso that if the poor mate should attempt to follow the Florida,
his brig should be fired into and sunk, while I was ordered to get
under way and go to the eastward. I understood his plans now. The men
landed at Wood’s Bay were to be left behind to starve or fall a prey
to the Indians; the Eliza Cornish and her two hundred passengers were
to be left to their fate; while the Florida, (on board of which was
all the treasure and Cambiaso’s chief followers,) was to be used to
convey the pirates to some place of security. I shrank from being even
compelled to be accessory to such cruelty, and ventured to remonstrate
with Cambiaso; not, however, on his barbarity,--that, indeed, would
have been useless,--but on the risk the Florida would run in attempting
such dangerous navigation on a night so thick and murky, with the wind
blowing heavily in shore. I told him that it was not safe to start,
that I could not answer for our not being ashore before morning; but
he would not even listen to me, saying he believed I was a coward, and
angrily commanded me to obey orders.
It was, indeed, as much as I could do to keep the vessel from the
shore that night, the storm continuing till daylight, and I expected
every moment that we should be driven in shore. I do not know that I
dreaded it much. It seemed to me as well to fall into the hands of the
Indians, as to remain with these fellows, and our chances of escape
were as good on land as at sea.
Tuesday morning, however, saw us again opposite Sandy Bay, and at nine
o’clock I hove-to off the harbor, by Cambiaso’s orders. The boat was
then cleared away ready for lowering, and some of the men were ordered
to go ashore to bring off some provisions which had been left behind;
but they, perhaps mistrusting Cambiaso’s intentions, and fearing that
they would be abandoned, as their companions had been at Wood’s Bay,
refused to land, declaring that they saw some Indians prowling about
the barracks. I saw, by the help of my spy-glass, that what they took,
or pretended to take for Indians, were only barrels and stumps of
trees, but I prudently said nothing. Cambiaso stormed and threatened,
but the men were stubborn and immovable, and Garcia again interfering,
he sullenly ordered me to proceed, and retired to his state-room. That
evening I anchored under Cape Gregory.
Towards ten o’clock, when the night watch was set, and all was quiet on
the vessel, Mr. Dunn and myself were sent for to Cambiaso’s state-room.
Mr. Dunn had of late always been called upon to accompany me when
Cambiaso sent for me to deliver orders; my broken Spanish seeming to
irritate him, and Mr. Dunn serving as interpreter to render my orders
more clear to me. Cambiaso received us very cordially, asked us to be
seated, and began by expressing himself very well satisfied with the
skill I had shown in navigating the vessel. He was even jocose, asking
me if I was a good shot with a pistol, since he had an idea of fighting
a duel with me; then, pointing to a bottle of champaigne which stood
on the table, he said, “That is the pistol I mean we shall exchange
shots with;” and drawing the cork, he made us both drink with him. Then
turning to Mr. Dunn, he said, “My good friend Sir Captain is troubled
about the rascals I left at Wood’s Bay; he does not know, as you and
I do, that there’s only one way to get along with such men. They are
devils, and nothing is too hard for them. One must take care of himself
in this world.”
Mr. Dunn told him that I had hesitated about putting out from the
harbor because the night was so murky, and the navigation intricate;
and that I was afraid of running the vessel on the shore. Cambiaso
shook his head: “No, no; you are both of you tender-hearted as women.
I suppose you would be frightened now, if you saw blood shed, but one
can’t always get along without it.”
I answered that I could fight as well as another man, when I saw need
for it; but that I did not like leaving the English mate and crew, nor
even _his_ followers to starve, or fall into the hands of the Indians.
This made him laugh heartily; but suddenly changing the subject, he
asked me if I had a wife and children. “Yes,” I said, “in my own
country.” “How many little ones?” he rejoined; “and I suppose you
would like to see them again? Well, you must do without that for some
time yet; but if you will follow my orders, you shall go home with
money enough to stay with them always.”
I answered that I had obeyed his orders since I had agreed to, and
that I should continue to navigate the vessel as well as I could, if
that was what he wanted from me. “Yes,” replied he, when my friend had
interpreted this answer to him, “Yes, yes, that is what I want of you
for the present, and I promise you both that I will not give you any
fighting to do; all I ask of you is to stand by, and not be frightened
if you see any blood spilled.” We made no reply to this; when, after
pausing a moment, and glancing at us from under his long, veiling
lashes, he said, “I will make it worth your while, captain Brown, to
follow me, and yours too, Sir Secretary. If you obey my orders, and
land me safe at my destination, you shall go home to your wife and
little ones with twenty thousand dollars, captain; and you (to Mr.
Dunn,) shall have six thousand, if you interpret for me faithfully.” He
rose as he said this, and pointed out of the cabin, saying as we left
him, that all he wanted was that we should be true to him.
It was then late into the night, but instead of retiring, Mr. Dunn
and myself walked to the side of the vessel, out of hearing of the
watch and the few soldiers listening about the deck, to talk over our
interview with the general. We knew that those around us were aware
that we had been sent for by Cambiaso, and had been with him for some
time; therefore it would be natural for them to suppose that we would
wish to talk of what we had heard from him, and it was very seldom
that we had an opportunity of exchanging even a few words without
feeling that we were suspected by our watchful jailors.
I told Mr. Dunn at once that I did not like Cambiaso’s conversation;
I did not trust his apparent friendliness for a moment; indeed, I
believed that it was all assumed to deceive us, and hide his real
intentions.
“But,” replied Mr. Dunn, “he cannot do without you as long as he
remains on board the Florida, and now that he has abandoned the colony
and left the brig behind, he must have some port in view.” “Yes,” said
I, “he will use us as long as he wants us; but depend upon it, he will
never let us escape alive to any place where we can put the officers of
justice on his track. Depend upon it, all this was to blind us; he has
some devilish plan in his head; he will do something with us very soon.”
Mr. Dunn looked anxiously serious as he said, “I more than half agree
with you; the villain was half intoxicated this evening, and let out
more than he meant to. Did you see his face when he promised us the
money? But what plans can he have? What port does he intend to make?”
This brought to my mind a conversation I had held a few days before
with one of the officers, Cambiaso’s chief adviser and confidant,
and a man who before this had scarcely exchanged a word with me. He,
through the help of one of the sailors, a Chilian, but who talked
English tolerably well, had questioned me about the lay of the shore
around Rio Janeiro, and the approach to that port, the landing, and so
forth. This I repeated to Mr. Dunn, and putting that conversation with
Cambiaso’s entire change of orders since we first left the colony, his
evident intentions of continuing his course eastward, the amount of
food which he had stored in the Florida, and other slight indications
of the same sort, we felt that Rio Janeiro was his destination, and
that we had some clue to his plans.
Still, I was convinced, and at last succeeded in convincing Mr. Dunn,
that his friendly expressions towards us, and his offers of money were
entirely insincere; his bids were altogether too high. I knew that
all the treasure on the vessel did not amount to more than eighty
thousand dollars, and of that he would hardly give twenty-six thousand
to men whom he had entirely within his power; and give it, too, when
he had no longer any further use for them. Long afterwards, and on my
return to Valparaiso, I found that my suspicions were correct; for I
learned from Garcia and the other officer of Cambiaso, both of whom
were pardoned by the Chilian government, that Cambiaso’s plan had
been to take the Florida to some part of the Brazilian coast that was
uninhabited, probably on the inhospitable shores of the province of
Santa Catharina, there to compel most of his followers and prisoners to
land and shift for themselves; using some such stratagem as that which
had been so successful at Cape Holland; and to keep on the vessel only
his intimate friends, and myself and crew. On reaching the harbor of
Rio Janeiro, and coming near enough to gain the shore in the boats, he
and his companions were to murder myself and crew, scuttle the vessel,
and with the treasure, make their escape to the port; there, dividing
the booty, they were to disperse, Cambiaso himself intending to take
passage in the steamer for Europe, and his officers to seek whatever
foreign country might please them and seem a safe refuge for them.
Mr. Dunn and myself parted, with our distrust of Cambiaso confirmed,
and with a renewed determination to strain every nerve to escape
from his hands. After I reached my berth, and as I lay tossing and
revolving our perils, the thought struck me that it might be possible
to re-take the vessel. A thousand difficulties and dangers started up
to intimidate me, but the possibility of success seemed to overbalance
all uncertainties, and I spent the rest of the night in laying my
plans, in measuring the chances of resolution and fidelity amongst my
crew, and in estimating the probability of our being joined by any of
the released prisoners.
By the morning, I had made up my mind to the attempt, and rose with a
determination to lose no time, but to effect it, if possible, that very
day.
CHAPTER VIII.
The re-taking of the vessel planned--Mr. Dunn--Captain
Avalos--Preito--The corporal--Three bells--The struggle--Cambiaso
overpowered--Garcia--Cheers for victory--The crew swear fidelity to
me--Our course--Cambiaso put in irons--His cowardice--The prisoners
from the hold--River Gallegos--Voyage round Cape Horn--Attempted
outbreaks--Our danger--We reach San Carlos.
Wednesday, the 14th of January, we left Cape Gregory behind us, and
continued our course eastward, towards the eastern entrance of the
Straits. I sought Mr. Dunn early in the morning, and communicated my
determination to him. I found him ready and willing to sustain me in
the attempt, and that he agreed with me that the sooner it was made,
the better; so, determining to hurry things on, we parted--he to sound
such of the prisoners and soldiers as we thought would join us.
There were several of my crew in whom I could not put confidence, they
being too frequently seen holding confidential conversations with
Cambiaso’s followers; so that after some deliberation, I determined
not to entrust our plans to any of the men, lest those whose fidelity
we doubted should hear of them, and betray us to Cambiaso; but in the
course of the morning I spoke to those whom I could trust, and asked
them separately if they would stand by me in trouble, and obey my
orders. They all answered that they were ready; and one of them, with
an oath, added, “Till death, captain!” Captain Avalos we managed to
speak to during the morning, and found him as ready as we were.
The day wore on anxiously enough for us, for we felt that the struggle
that was approaching was a matter of life and death with us; one false
step, and we were lost; one careless or treacherous word breathed
by those whom we were compelled to trust, and we were at the mercy
of those villains, whom no sense of humanity could restrain. The
weather was fine, and the wind favorable; and, between eight and nine
o’clock in the evening, we passed Cape Possession, leaving it to the
north-west. I was on deck with the larboard watch, when Mr. Dunn
told me that he had secured the assistance of twelve besides myself.
These were some of the soldiers under captain Avalos; some prisoners
who had come down with us, and who had proved themselves so friendly
during our confinement at Sandy Bay; and one or two of Cambiaso’s
own followers, who had expressed dissatisfaction at his tyranny, and
to whom Mr. Dunn had held out the prospect of pardon, if we should
succeed in our undertaking. Among them was my former guard, Preito, to
whom I was indebted for the hymn book, which proved so great a source
of consolation. We laid our plans most cautiously. Captain Avalos and
his soldiers were to secure the officers in the cabin, while Mr. Dunn
and myself were to guard the deck. To the corporal who had defended
himself so bravely at the time the Florida was seized, and who refused
to deliver up his gun except to my order, I gave the attack on Cambiaso
himself; for during our whole imprisonment, he had manifested such a
detestation of him that I really believed he would have eaten him up
alive, if he could have got at him.
During the evening, Cambiaso and his officers sat around the table in
the after cabin, engaged in their usual occupation of gambling; and
every glance which I cast in upon them showed me their dark, fierce
countenances, while the sound of their oaths and laughter struck my
ear. Without, all was still and peaceful; the barque gliding swiftly
through the water, with a free wind and a pleasant breeze. I watched
the strange looking southern stars which looked down upon us from their
quiet skies, with a strange impatience at their peaceful calmness.
By eleven, the gamblers began to rise from the table, and one by
one retired to their state-rooms; and when the sound of eight bells
proclaimed midnight, all was still and quiet around us. I sent the
larboard watch below, telling them only that they must be prepared
to come on deck if they heard me call. The starboard watch then came
up, but I did not inform them of my plans then. The signal was to be
three bells, or as a landsman would say, the striking of half-past one
in the morning. The forward hatch was closed, and the guarding of the
after hatch was to be given to Mr. Dunn and myself. Two bells told us
that one o’clock had arrived, and all were at their posts,--captain
Avalos and his men ready at the cabin door. Not a sound was to be heard
save the ticking of the watch in the cabin, and the rustling of the
water as it broke round the bows of the vessel. Both sounds struck on
my ear with painful acuteness. At last, three bells rung out, and the
rush was made in the cabin;--at the same moment I shouted, “All hands
tumble up!” and in a moment my crew was around me. Mr. Dunn and myself
were at the after hatch, and as the noise of the struggle reached the
men between decks, we shouted that we were armed, and had the vessel,
and that the first one who appeared at the gangway should be shot down.
The struggle in the cabin went on. Avalos had stationed his men so that
each state-room door was broken in at the same moment, and some of the
occupants were secured before they were well awake. Cambiaso struggled
hard, but was at last overcome and bound with cords, for irons we had
none. During the fifteen minutes that the struggle below lasted, we
were in suspense on deck, not daring to leave our posts, but knowing
that all depended on captain Avalos’s success. At last he appeared,
with a shout; all were secured without the loss of a life--not even
a drop of blood spilled. Then rose three times three cheers for our
victory, which rung through the vessel, and announced our success to
the prisoners below.
But our work was not over. Captain Avalos and his men collected all
the pistols, cutlasses, guns, and so forth, which could be found, and
carried them into the cabin, loading the muskets and pistols, while
I called my men aft, and asked them if they would stand by me in
defending the vessel and taking her into port. They promised with most
eager anxiety; and Mr. Dunn and captain Avalos coming forward, added to
their enthusiasm by pledging their lives to sustain me in holding the
vessel, and putting themselves entirely under my orders.
I then hove the main-top-sail to the mast till our course was decided,
and called a council as to our best course. Some of the party proposed
returning to Sandy Bay, where we could defend ourselves in the
barracks; others to push on for the coast of Brazil and make the first
port there; but I told them we had not water enough to go very far, and
suggested that we should make for the nearest watering place, the river
Gallegos, lying in lat. 51° 39´ S.--lon. 69° W., on the east coast of
Patagonia; there take in a fresh supply of water, and shape our course
round Cape Horn for Valparaiso. To return to Sandy Bay seemed to me to
put ourselves directly into the hands of the pirates who were behind
us, and who could easily overpower us, and release their leaders and
companions. If we attempted to reach the coast of Brazil, it seemed to
me impossible that we should be able to hold the vessel during so long
a voyage, as we had no irons to secure our prisoners, and no men to
spare to guard them; whereas, the telling them that we were taking them
to Valparaiso would probably satisfy all but the ringleaders.
My plan was adopted; and as we had a fair wind, I squared the yards and
started at once for the river.
The whole forenoon of the 15th was spent in preparing irons for
Cambiaso, Garcia, and others confined in the state-rooms. When they
were finished, the corporal and some others entered Cambiaso’s
state-room to put them on his hands and feet. He lay on his bed, bound
hand and foot with cords, and as we entered and commenced putting on
the irons, he said, “Are you going to shoot me? Let me have fifteen
minutes to prepare.” They gave him no answer; but after securing him
they left the state-room, and placed his enemy the corporal, with
another soldier, well armed, at his door, with orders to shoot him at
once if any disturbance should break out amongst the prisoners. We took
care that he should hear our order, which captain Avalos repeated aloud
in Spanish.
Cambiaso showed more cowardice than I expected in his fear of death;
but even before us he seemed to keep his courage up by a sort of
bravado.
From his room, which was one of the after state-rooms, we went to
Garcia’s whom we found lying very quiet. He said nothing, but held
his hands so as to make it easier to adjust the handcuffs. The other
officers were ironed and locked into their state-rooms, and as heavy a
guard as we could spare, detached for the cabin.
After the officers were secured, we opened the hatchway, and allowed
the prisoners below to come up in small detachments at a time. We
continued this during the voyage, as they were so crowded below that we
felt this was necessary to escape the danger of sickness and contagion;
but we never did it without great risk and great anxiety.
Before noon on this day, the 15th, the wind shifted ahead, and we made
slow work all that day and night, and barely reached the mouth of the
river Gallegos by noon of the 16th.
As we came off the mouth of the river, I found the wind well to the
eastward, blowing fresh on shore; and I hesitated about attempting to
land, especially as there was likely to be considerable sea on shore.
After some consideration, I determined to tack ship and go south,
trusting to finding some watering place along the coast which we could
make in more favorable weather. As we tacked ship, this seeming to me
the starting for home, we fired as a salute, the guns which had been
loaded with double balls by Cambiaso, and hoisted the American ensign
which I had kept so long concealed. I had great hopes of meeting some
American or English vessel in my passing round the cape, from which I
might obtain some assistance. It was not so very long since the Virago
had left Sandy Bay, and I hoped that she or some other armed vessel
might be cruising in these seas.
After the salute, I had my guns carefully re-loaded again, and the
strictest discipline maintained on board. In this I was admirably
aided by captain Avalos, whose soldiers were kept constantly on the
alert; and by Mr. Dunn, who worked with me heart and hand. Cambiaso
was strictly confined to his state-room, and allowed no communication
with any one. The other officers we sometimes allowed to come on deck
for air and exercise for a short time, attended by a guard; but never
when any of the prisoners from below were up. The odds against us were
fearful: two hundred and two prisoners, to about twenty-two men to
guard and provide for them, and navigate the vessel.
The cleaning of the steerage I was obliged to compel the prisoners to
attend to, by constant threats of punishment for neglect. The stench
which came up from the hold was sometimes insupportable. The whole
care of providing for the crew and prisoners I left in the hands of
my faithful steward, and he performed his task well, laboring with
unwearied diligence. Sometimes the women among the prisoners were
allowed to come up and cook for their husbands.
The treasure which was in Cambiaso’s state-room was transferred to the
cabin for safe keeping, under the guardianship of Mr. Dunn and captain
Avalos.
During our passage round the cape, we had rather pleasant weather,
with but few exceptions; but very few fair winds. This increased the
length of our voyage, and every day saw us more worn out with anxiety
and watchfulness. For myself, I never had my clothes off during the
whole passage; nor did I ever venture to retire to my state-room for a
night’s sleep,--taking what rest I could snatch sitting on a chair in
the cabin, where I could be roused at any moment.
In passing Cape St. Johns, at the eastern extremity of the Straits, on
the evening of January 20th, we encountered a heavy gale of wind from
the west-south-west, which continued, with a rough sea, for some days.
During the gale we lost the head rails.
On February 1st, another gale, far heavier than the last, caused us to
ship a great deal of water in the cabin. There was no real danger, but
I never saw fellows more frightened than were our prisoners, as the
water came dashing through their state-room windows. For Cambiaso,
he was a perfect coward when he was sea-sick. Nine days afterwards we
were in real danger; as a sudden squall struck the vessel, and broke
the main-yards in the slings. When the gale abated, we got a spare yard
ready, and were soon in sailing order again.
We were disappointed in our hopes of meeting with any vessels from
which we could obtain relief; and we had experienced great difficulty
in finding a watering place; so that by the time we reached the western
extremity of the Straits, I found myself so short of water that I
determined to abandon my intention of going to Valparaiso, and to make
San Carlos, the port on the northern extremity of the island of Chiloe.
This course seemed to me more necessary, as I doubted our ability
to keep the prisoners under for many days longer, there having been
already two attempts to rise among them, only kept down by our prompt
watchfulness. The most desperate among them were either fearful of
coming within the reach of the arm of the law, or were tempted by the
treasure which lay almost within their grasp. I think nothing had so
much effect in restraining them as the perfect fearlessness with which
I moved about among them, and the apparent confidence with which I
issued my orders--directing the prisoners in the hold to come on deck,
to go to the galley for their mess, to clean out their quarters, and so
forth--as if I were perfectly sure that I should be obeyed.
During the last few days of our passage, I had been alarmed by
noticing words passing between some of the soldiers who were on guard,
and the prisoners, as they came up on deck for their daily walk. There
was evidently another outbreak in contemplation. I communicated my
suspicions to my friends, and we redoubled our vigilance.
On the 13th of February, in the evening, as the altered course of the
vessel must have informed some of them that we were nearing port, a
larger party than usual made their appearance on deck, armed with
whatever weapons they could collect from below. Some of the cutlasses
and other weapons belonging to the rebels we had never been able to
obtain, they having secreted them.
My crew were stationed at their posts on deck, and armed; and captain
Avalos ordered his men to load up their muskets in the presence of
the prisoners. About ten o’clock, three of our own men deliberately
left their places and walked over to the ranks of the prisoners. We
withdrew to the cabin, and stood with our loaded pistols and muskets in
our hands, and our drawn swords, with other loaded pistols, lying on
the table within our reach. Under the table was the box in which the
treasure was nailed up.
About eighteen of the rioters advanced to the entrance of the cabin;
but seeing our strong position and our formidable weapons, they paused
irresolute. Among them were the three deserters from our party. One of
them I called by name, opening the door of my state-room and beckoning
him in. He stepped forward much agitated, and entered with me. His
agitation showed me that I had little to fear from him; and a few
words of surprise at his conduct and of promises to forget it, brought
him over to our side. As he left the door of the state-room and joined
our party, the rioters fell back, evidently cowed, and one by one slunk
again into their places in the hold. By eleven o’clock all was quiet,
and we breathed freely again.
I have no reason to believe that Cambiaso, Garcia, or any of the
officers were concerned in this outbreak; it was concerted entirely
among the men, who were probably instigated by their desire to obtain
possession of the treasure.
That night was an anxious one to us. We were nearing the port, and
our approach to land was known to the crew, and probably to many of
the prisoners; every moment we were liable to another outbreak more
desperate than the last, as the ringleaders among the prisoners must
have been sensible that their last chance of escape was fast passing
away; but all was quiet; and the morning of the 14th of February, 1852,
dawned, to show us the port of San Carlos almost within our reach.
Before dark we were beating into the harbor with the American ensign
flying at the spanker gaff.
CHAPTER IX.
Reports of the revolt reach San Carlos--American Minister sends
assistance--Chilian Government despatches forces for the Straits--The
Virago--Fears of the inhabitants of San Carlos--I deliver the Florida
to the Chilian authorities--Arrival of the E. Cornish--The Virago
takes the prisoners and treasure--Passage to Valparaiso--Protest and
claim of salvage--Mr. Duer--Don Antonio Varas--Injustice done me by
the Chilian government--The British Admiral claims the treasure--I
protest again--Compromise--Don Antonio denies all claim--My claims
put into the hands of the United States Authorities.
Early in January, about a month before our arrival, the news of the
insurrection in the Straits had spread some alarm through San Carlos
and other southern Pacific ports. The first report was brought by two
of the soldiers who escaped from the colony with the governor, and had
not been captured by Cambiaso. They had witnessed the capture of the
Florida and the Eliza Cornish, from their hiding place among the bushes
around the cantonment; had even lurked in the vicinity long enough to
witness the embarkation of the colonists and the abandonment of the
colony; then, through incredible hardships, had found their way to
the Pacific coast, been taken off from thence by some passing vessel,
and carried to San Carlos. Their report was that Cambiaso had turned
pirate, and was coming to San Carlos to take the port.
The intelligence they brought had been transmitted to Valparaiso,
with a description of the vessels; both of which were said to belong
to the United States. Additional forces had been sent to San Carlos,
and an official communication sent from the commander general of
marines, at Valparaiso, to the American consul there, and from thence
to colonel Balie Peyton, the American Minister at Santiago. Col. Peyton
immediately sent orders to Callao that the U. S. frigate “Raritan”
should proceed in search of the two vessels; and a request was also
sent to the English Admiral at Valparaiso, that the “Virago” might
be allowed to go again to the Straits, and render such assistance to
the colonists and vessels as might be needed. Some French and Swedish
vessels then in port also went out on the search.
The Chilian authorities despatched two Chilian men-of-war, and some
Chilian troops under Don Santiago Jorge Bynon. The troops were put on
board the Chilian men-of-war; the latter on board the Virago, on the
same service. The English steamer proceeded immediately to the Straits,
and it was to be hoped that her officers would learn a lesson from
experience, and prove themselves more sharp sighted than they had done
a month before, in their former visit to the colony.
The news that the Florida had arrived off the entrance of the harbor
filled the people of San Carlos with consternation, which not even
the sight of the American flag and my signals of distress served to
dissipate entirely. We lay off the harbor some six or seven miles from
the town, with the wind ahead, blowing off from the harbor, and the
tide against us.
[Illustration]
About sunset, a boat came near us with six persons in her, and lay
on her oars within hailing distance. Some one from her hailed us
in English, and asked where we were from. This boat had in her the
captain of the port, who had put off to reconnoitre, and now seeing so
many people on deck, was afraid to come nearer. I answered him from
the Florida, saying that I had come into the port in distress, having
Cambiaso a prisoner on board, and that I was anxious to go on shore at
once to see the Intendente of the port, and deliver up my vessel to
him; as I was unable to protect it any longer. This relieved his fears,
and he came alongside. I had prepared every thing for my leaving the
vessel in safety; knowing that the prisoners would not dare to make
another outbreak within the harbor, with the guns of the Chilian war
vessels around them. The captain of the port left a pilot on board,
and took Mr. Dunn, captain Avalos, and myself into his boat. We were
landed on the quay at about nine o’clock.
We went immediately to the Intendente, the captain of the port
accompanying us almost on a run, shouting out as he passed through
the streets, “Cambiaso is taken!--he is here!--he is a prisoner!” By
the time that we reached the Intendente’s house we were surrounded
by a crowd of the inhabitants of San Carlos, asking questions and
shouting out their exultation. Our arrival had excited such alarm that
the troops had been ordered out. I told my story to the Intendente,
representing to him the worn out condition of my crew, and the
necessity there was for sending them immediate aid. He sent at once
for the commander of the forces on shore, and the captain of the
Chilian vessel of war, “Indefatigable,” then lying in the harbor.
They agreed that the troops and the Indefatigable should immediately
take possession of the Florida; and by twelve at night, a guard of
twenty-five soldiers, with their officer, was placed over the prisoners
on my vessel, while the Indefatigable lay by her side.
As we left the Intendente’s house, Mr. Dunn was greeted on every side
by warm friends, all rejoicing to see him alive once more, and eager
to hear our story and to extend the hospitalities of their houses
to us. Indeed, during the few days that I remained in San Carlos I
experienced the greatest hospitality and kindness from the inhabitants
of the place. Every house was thrown open to me and to my friends; our
immediate wants of clothing and personal comforts supplied; and every
thing done to make us look back to the time passed there with grateful
remembrance.
I experienced here a singular result from the great anxiety and
excitement which I had undergone. Instead of being overcome with
fatigue, and enjoying the rest which I so much needed, and for which
I had so longed, my state of excitement continued. I scarcely needed
rest, and sleep seemed to have fled from me entirely. For the first
three nights after leaving the vessel I could not close my eyes.
My intention before reaching San Carlos had been to report myself
immediately to the American consul, or to any one holding authority
from the United States whom I might find there, and follow his advice
in regard to the steps to be taken to deliver the prisoners, treasure,
and vessel into the hands of the government of Chili; but I was told
by the captain of the port that no American consul was in the place. I
then inquired if any vessel of war belonging to the United States was
in the harbor, intending to claim its assistance. There was none; and
my next step was to seek the Intendente of the port. In my conversation
with him I told him that my wish was to deliver up every thing into
the hands of the Chilian authorities as soon as I could do it. He told
me that no one in San Carlos had power to take the vessel in the name
of the government; to find any one authorized to do this. I must go
to Valparaiso. To attempt this without further aid would be, I felt,
to risk the lives of my crew and passengers; therefore I accepted the
offer of the Intendente to take the prisoners and treasure from the
Florida and send them to Valparaiso in some Chilian vessel of war then
in harbor, with the understanding that on reaching that port, I was
then to deliver every thing into the hands of the government.
The next morning, while preparations were making to transfer Cambiaso
and Garcia, together with the treasure, to the Indefatigable, the
Virago and Metero were reported as coming into the harbor.
The English steamer had then been successful in her search for the
Eliza Cornish, and she now seemed inclined to follow her orders to
the letter, and take the Florida _wherever she might find her_; for
immediately on entering the harbor, captain Stewart, with two armed
boats, went alongside my vessel;--then, not finding me there, he left
the boats lying at the side of the vessel, while he came on shore and
to the house of the Intendente.
Here I met him; when he told me that he had orders to take my vessel
wherever he found her. I answered that he could not take her, as I
had her myself; when with something of what seemed to me high handed
insolence, he insisted on his right and his orders.
I told him plainly that I gave up the vessel, treasure, and prisoners
to no one but to the Chilian authorities; that if he took them it
must be by order of the authorities; and that I should protest, both
here and in Valparaiso, against his taking possession of the Florida.
This was all I could do; for I found no disposition on the part of
the Intendente or of any other officials at San Carlos to back me
in my protest. They all seemed to stand somewhat in awe of captain
Stewart; or, to speak more properly, of the British lion, whose might
he represented. Captain Stewart left me for a while, and soon after
returned to the Intendente’s, bringing with him commander Bynon, who
had sailed with him in search of us, being appointed by the Chilian
authorities chief of the naval expedition to the Straits sent for our
rescue. To him I repeated what I had said to captain Stewart. He heard
me with attention and politeness, and assured me that I should be
satisfied and all my just claims regarded.
After some consultation, it was decided by the authorities at San
Carlos, commander Bynon, and captain Stewart, that the ringleaders and
the treasure should be transferred to the Virago, and that aid should
be sent to the Florida, to guard the prisoners remaining there, and
navigate the vessel to Valparaiso.
I was able to learn but little of the re-taking of the Eliza Cornish,
and the rescue of the colonists left at Wood’s Bay, merely having one
hurried conversation with my old fellow prisoner, the English mate,
about the subject. He told me that the morning after Cambiaso drove him
in shore, at Wood’s Bay, and forbade him to follow the Florida, the
forty colonists left on the land hailed him, entreating to be taken on
board; but having already two hundred crowded into his vessel, he was
afraid to do it, and indeed it was not allowed by those on board. He
therefore was obliged to abandon them, and, getting under way, beat
to the westward. After beating west for about two days he met the
English steamers, which immediately sent two armed boats to board the
E. Cornish, and took her as a prize. I was told by a sailor from the
Virago, that the moment the boats came along side, the mate and crew
sprang into her, so glad were they of any chance of escape.
The leading rebels were taken from the E. Cornish in irons, and put on
the Virago, while a prize master and fresh crew were sent to the brig,
and she was anchored in the Straits. The Virago then proceeded to the
eastward, took up the colonists left at Wood’s Bay, then went on to
Sandy Bay Colony in search of us; but failing to find us, returned,
took the E. Cornish in tow, carried her out of the Straits about three
hundred miles, and then let her go under sail, in company with the
Virago, for Valparaiso. On their way they had kept a constant look out
for us, searching every harbor, as the impression was strong with them,
that Cambiaso would attack the South Pacific ports.
By Tuesday, the 17th, we were ready for sea; and I must do captain
Stuart the justice to say, that during the two days of preparation he
rendered me every assistance in his power. Four seamen, a boatswain,
and one officer were transferred to the Florida from the Virago, to
assist my exhausted crew; and as both vessels were ready for sea at the
same time, captain Stuart towed my vessel above forty miles out. In the
evening of the 17th, a fair breeze springing up, we parted company.
During most of the passage up we had a fine breeze and pleasant
weather. The steamer was to touch at Valdivia, and other places on the
coast, so that I got ahead of her; and by Sunday, the 22d, I was off
Caruma head, just south of Valparaiso. Here we had light, baffling
winds, and were obliged to lay over till the next morning. About eight
o’clock A. M. on Monday, the steamer was seen south of us, coming up
the coast, with the Eliza Cornish in tow.
I then had all my sails clewed up, set the American ensign at the mizen
top-mast head, and fired two four pounders, to draw the attention of
the steamer. She soon bore down for us, took us in tow also, and by two
o’clock in the afternoon, of February 23d, we anchored in the harbor of
Valparaiso.
On my arrival, I immediately went to the United States Consul,
Mr. William Duer, and through him transmitted to the Intendente of
Valparaiso, commander Robert Simpson, my abandonment of the Florida. In
reply I was informed by commander Simpson that he had no authority to
accept the vessel, but that the subject had been referred by him to the
government at Santiago.
The prisoners were landed from the Virago, and the ringleaders
delivered into the hands of the law; but the treasure was transferred
to the Eliza Cornish; and I learned that it was claimed by the English
admiral, and surrendered to him by the Chilian government; and that
it was to be sent at once to England, without being landed at all in
Valparaiso.
Upon learning this, I immediately entered a protest before the
American consul, Mr. Duer, against the seizure of the Florida, and
claimed salvage on the treasure rescued by me from the hands of the
pirates. On the 28th, Mr. Duer received a communication from commander
Simpson, under the order of Don Antonio Varas, the Minister of Foreign
Relations of the Chilian government, wishing to know fully the reasons
on which I founded the abandonment of my vessel, in order to determine
whether the government should give orders to take possession of the
vessel in the name of the State. I then requested Mr. Duer to call a
survey on the Florida, for the purpose of ascertaining her present
condition and the probable cost of putting her in sea-worthy condition.
Captains Phineas Leach and Joseph Carries, with Mr. George K.
Stevenson, master ship carpenter, were directed by Mr. Duer to proceed
to the Florida, make an examination of her state, and report to the
consulate. They reported, after a minute calculation, the cost of
putting the vessel in a sea-worthy condition to be over four thousand
dollars. This report, with my own protest made before the consul,
giving an account of the seizure of the vessel, Mr. Shaw’s barbarous
murder, my imprisonment, the forcible detention of our private
property, the re-capture of the vessel, its arrival in San Carlos, my
delivery of it into the hands of the authorities there, the transfer of
the prisoners and treasure to the Virago, our passage to Valparaiso,
&c. &c., and claiming salvage on the treasure and restoration of the
personal property of myself, passengers, and crew, I transmitted to Don
Antonio Varas, at Santiago.
While waiting for some notice of these communications from the
government authorities, I found that the Eliza Cornish, having the
treasure on board, was preparing for sea, under the orders of the
British admiral, and that no steps were being taken by the Chilian
authorities to claim the treasure. I therefore caused process to be
issued to prevent the sailing of the vessel, in order to obtain an
adjudication in the courts of Chili for the salvage to which I was
justly entitled, for the re-capture of the treasure. But although there
was ample time to execute this process and prevent the removal of the
treasure and though I did every thing in my power to cause this to be
done, yet the E. Cornish was permitted to sail for England.
This was either from the gross neglect, or the wilful default of the
officers entrusted with serving the process; and I myself firmly
believe that the neglect was wilful, and that it arose from the
unwillingness on the part of the Chilian government to come into direct
collision with the British admiral. Nay, more: I have every reason to
believe that many articles of personal property belonging to myself, my
passengers, and my crew, were also on the E. Cornish; for the prisoners
had in their possession at the time we came into San Carlos all our
wearing apparel, weapons, and so forth; all of which were transferred
to the Virago with the prisoners, and which, I was told at San Carlos,
should be carefully restored to me on reaching Valparaiso,--but which
I never could trace afterwards. Of my own personal effects I never
received any thing but one pistol.
It was at this time I made the attempt to recover the ring taken from
Mr. Shaw’s finger at the time of his death--offering a reward to any
one who would bring it to me. I had heard that it was seen on the
finger of one of the women brought to San Carlos in the E. Cornish.
Finding no disposition on the part of the government to attend to
my written communications, I went to Santiago on the 14th of March,
accompanied by Mr. Duer, for the purpose of having a personal interview
with our Minister, colonel Peyton, and with Don Antonio Varas.
By the advice of colonel Peyton and Mr. Duer, I addressed a letter to
Don Antonio, under date of March 19th, recapitulating the grievances
under which I had labored; submitting my claims, together with my
protest, and appealing to the honor of the government to see that I
should not suffer from the removal of the treasure, since it had arisen
from the neglect of their own officers. I also submitted, that had I
not recovered it, the Chilian government would have been bound to make
the amount good to the owners; and that at great hazard to my life, I
had rendered such service to the State as no great nation permits to
pass unrewarded.
In reply to this, an interview was appointed by Don Antonio Varas, for
the next day, with Mr. Duer and myself. We went at the time appointed,
and found the Minister unwilling to allow any claim for damages
sustained, either in person or property, during the time the Florida
was in the hands of the rebels, or for salvage on the treasure; but he
acknowledged the obligation of the government to pay for the use of the
vessel for the time she was in its service. He however postponed the
decision of the case until Monday, the 22d, at which time he appointed
another interview. Mr. Duer and myself were at his office at the time
appointed, but were put off again until the next day. On Tuesday, we
held another conversation with Don Antonio Varas, if possible, more
unsatisfactory than the first, for not the slightest hope of relief was
held forth.
Despairing of obtaining justice, I returned to Valparaiso, and, on
the 27th of March, advertised for money on bottomry, to repair the
Florida and enable her to proceed to sea. I was forced to do this, as
I had literally nothing wherewith to pay the wages of my crew, much
less repair the vessel. The advertisement for bottomry remained in
the Daily Mercuria, of Valparaiso, until April 3d, when, no proposals
having been received, I was forced to put the barque up for sale, and
advertised her on the 7th. The next day, the 8th, Mr. Duer addressed
another letter to the Minister, Don Antonio Varas, in which he proposed
a compromise. This was done to avoid the necessity for the sale of
the vessel, and in hopes that an appeal to the sense of honor of the
government might have its effect. Mr. Duer, at first protesting that
in making this offer he by no means admitted, either for himself or
for me, that my claims were not in all respects just and sound, went
on to say that the price paid for the use of the vessel, in taking
the prisoners to Magellan, was much less than it would have been had
not the Florida been bound to the United States, via Rio Janeiro, and
therefore could stop on her way at Magellan with comparatively little
loss or expense. Nevertheless, he offered to accept for the use of
the vessel, from the time of her arrival at Magellan till she reached
Valparaiso again, a sum per day equal to that which she received
according to the contract made from Valparaiso to Magellan, with the
addition of ten per cent. The claim for salvage on the specie was not
waived, nor the compensation for my personal services. The personal
losses of Mr. Buela, the mate, and crew, were ascertained by Mr. Duer,
and stated at what he considered a low and reasonable amount.
I was induced to make the offer of this compromise, from my desire to
do the best in my power for my owners, and from my sense of the great
sacrifice to them which the forced sale of the vessel would cause;
and also from my utter inability to meet any more delay, or incur any
further expense, destitute as I was of even the necessaries of life,
and dependent as my crew were upon me.
This letter was dated April 8th; but no answer was received until
the 24th. In the meantime, proposals for the purchase of the vessel
were made by Messrs. F. A. Richardson & Co., offering the sum of
two thousand eight hundred dollars for the barque. The vessel being
advertised for sale on account of whom it might concern, and this being
the highest offer received, of course it was accepted.
On the 24th, Mr. Duer received a letter from Don Antonio Varas,
denying the right to any claim for services rendered or losses suffered
in consequence of the acts of the revolted colonists, and proposing
that in order to determine the time during which the Florida should
be considered as employed in the services of the government, an agent
should be employed to go between me and the government.
He waives all examination of the estimate formed in Mr. Duer’s letter,
of the amount to be allowed as claimed by the Florida; he takes leave
to observe that Mr. Duer takes it for granted that the Florida was in
the service of the government not only during the time she was sailing
under the orders of the authorities of Chili, but also the period she
was in the power of the insurrectionists; and that the personal losses
of the captain, sailors, and passengers are included in the claim;
whereas they should be considered as resulting from the acts of the
rebels, which the government is not responsible for.
With an excuse for his delay in answering Mr. Duer’s letter, founded
upon his absence from the capital for a few days, and other urgent
occupations, he signs himself, “Your obedient servant, Antonio Varas.”
On receiving this letter, Mr. Duer joined me in entering a protest at
the consulate, against the injuries and damages I had received at the
hands of the Chilian government, and the affair was put in the hands of
our government authorities, where it now remains.
CHAPTER X.
Cambiaso’s trial--His execution--His character--Garcia--My interview
with him--The officer saved by Garcia--His wife’s gratitude--Mr.
Duer’s kindness--Mr. Dunn--Captain Avalos--Conclusion.
During the time that I had been occupied in endeavoring to obtain a
recognition of my claims from the Chilian government, the trial of
Cambiaso, Garcia, and the other ringleaders among the rebels, had been
going on at Valparaiso.
Cambiaso’s trial was not public, and I was not called in during its
course; consequently I could know but little of it. I attended the
execution myself, painful as the sight was to me, from a strange
desire which I had to see the last of men who had caused me so much
suffering, and from a wish to know how they would meet their fate.
Cambiaso was led out heavily ironed, and therefore little could be
judged of the state of his feelings from his bearing or appearance; but
he certainly showed no positive cowardice.
I have sometimes thought, in reflecting on the intercourse I had with
him, and the traits of character he manifested, that he had naturally
fine abilities, which, under a different training and different
circumstances, might have led him through a brilliant course. He had,
however, a fatal vanity, which was constantly a stronger temptation to
him than his principles of right were able to withstand. Much of his
cruelty seemed to me to arise from a sort of bravado, and a desire to
impress his followers with a great idea of his power and his courage.
I came to this conclusion from noticing that his words were always
more cruel than his actions, and yet that his threats did not seem to
be uttered under the influence of passion; on the contrary, they were
delivered in a grandiloquent manner which sometimes would have made
me feel inclined to laugh, if the subjects had not generally been too
serious for a joke.
His personal vanity was also very great; and, indeed, he had some
excuse for it, for he was certainly a very handsome man. His dress
was always very gaudy--sometimes blue, with gilt trimmings, sometimes
green--always with two epaulets, and he went constantly armed. I have
called him cowardly, but perhaps in that I have done him injustice. It
is possible that what seemed cowardice to me, was only the workings
of a sensitive conscience; and that his shunning the eye of those
with whom he talked was from a sense of guilt; his punishment may
have already begun in his remorse. There were certainly two or three
slight indications of this during our intercourse; for instance, he was
constantly promising me reparation for the wrongs he had done me, “when
we should reach port,” or “when general Cruz should come into power;”
and after each new crime he seemed to harden himself against the
recollection of it by some drunken frolic with the men, or some unusual
display. I cannot forget that my situation made it almost impossible
for me to judge him with impartiality; and how difficult it is in any
situation for one man to judge of the temptations of another, or of
what may be urged in his excuse.
Cambiaso had a wife living near San Carlos, but I was told that she was
not a woman of good character, and that he had separated from her. I
hope he had no children to inherit the disgrace attached to his name.
Garcia was not acquitted by the court martial, on the ground of his
being compelled to follow Cambiaso from fear of his life, and in
consideration of various acts of humanity which he had performed, and
which were repeated by the rebels themselves, but held for a second
trial. After his first trial, I called upon him, and found his sister
with him. She was evidently a lady, and I understood that his family
were among the most respectable in Valparaiso. He received me very
politely--even kindly--and congratulated me on my escape; at the same
time thanking me for some kindnesses which I had been able to show him
during his imprisonment on the Florida.
While I was in Valparaiso, I saw (in his prison,) the officer whose
life was spared through Garcia’s interference. He was obliged to have
his second trial, and as his wife visited him daily, he asked me to
come and see him again, saying that she wanted to thank me for my
sympathy on the night that he was condemned by Cambiaso. These marks of
gratitude for slight favors made me feel that no men are so far wrong
that some good feeling does not often show itself, when occasion calls
it out; and that the saying which I have heard somewhere, that “the
difference between the best good man and the worst bad man in this
world is not nearly so great in the eyes of God as it is in our eyes,”
is perhaps very true.
In this narrative, I have endeavored to speak impartially of every one
whom I have had occasion to mention; and in cases where I have had
occasion to record wrongs done to me, I have endeavored to give only
a plain, straightforward narrative of facts, without allowing my own
feelings to bias me more than must needs be.
In regard to the salvage question, I cannot but feel that I have been
treated unjustly, both by the Chilian government and by the British
officers at Valparaiso; but I have endeavored to state the facts as
they occurred, leaving the judgment of the case with my countrymen.
I am glad to take occasion here to thank Mr. Duer, not only for the
assistance which he rendered me, in the way of his office, but for the
kindness and sympathy which I received from him; for the ready interest
which he showed in my affairs; and for the activity with which he
followed up my claims.
There are those to whom the reading of this narrative will bring great
pain, because it will bring vividly before their minds the sad fate of
a dear relative. I refer to the friends of Mr. Shaw. To them I can only
offer my deep sympathy, and the assurance that Mr. Shaw was to me not
simply a companion, but a deeply valued friend, and that my grief for
him was lasting and deep.
To Mr. Dunn and captain Avalos I render my thanks for supporting me in
maintaining my authority on the Florida, and for the kindness which
they showed me after I reached Valparaiso.
Last of all, let me render thanks to that Providence which has rescued
me from so many and such great dangers, and restored me to my family
and friends, when I had so much reason to despair of ever meeting them
again.
I have given this narrative to the public from the thought that my
adventures and escapes would not be without their interest to my
countrymen; and that the plain, unpretending narrative of a sea-faring
man from their own shores, would show to landsmen what they sometimes
suffer who “go down to the sea in ships.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Text in italics is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Six months in Italy. By George S. Hillard.
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