PIRATICAL VOYAGE UNDER GEORGE ANSON—UNPARALLELED MORTALITY—ARRIVAL AND SOJOURN AT JUAN FERNANDEZ—A PRIZE—CAPTURE OF PAITA—PREPARATIONS TO ATTACK THE MANILLA GALLEON—DISAPPOINTMENT—FORTUNATE ARRIVAL AT TINIAN—ROMANTIC ACCOUNT OF THE ISLAND—A STORM—ANSON'S SHIP DRIVEN OUT TO SEA—THE ABANDONED CREW SET ABOUT BUILDING A BOAT—RETURN OF THE CENTURION—BATTLE WITH THE MANILLA GALLEON—ANSON'S ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND—THE PROCEEDS OF THE CRUISE.

The statesmen of England had now become penetrated with the idea that, in order to consolidate their territorial supremacy, they must make their country the undisputed mistress of the seas. War was declared against Spain in 1739, and the king determined to attack that power in her distant settlements and deprive her, if possible, of her possessions in America, and especially in Peru. It was supposed that the principal resources of the enemy would be by this means cut off, and that the Spanish would be reduced to the necessity of suing for peace, deprived as they would be of the returns of that treasure by which alone they could be enabled to support the drains of a foreign war. A fleet of six vessels, manned by fourteen hundred men and accompanied by two victualling-ships, was placed under the command of George Anson, a captain in the naval service. The flag-ship was the Centurion, mounting sixty guns and carrying four hundred men. On their way out from Spithead, on the 18th of September, 1740, the fleet was joined by an immense convoy of trading ships, which were to keep them company a portion of the way,—numbering in all eleven men-of-war and one hundred and fifty sail of merchantmen.

The squadron passed through Lemaire's Strait on the 7th of March, 1741. "We could not help persuading ourselves," writes Anson, "that the greatest difficulty of our voyage was now at an end, and that our most sanguine dreams were upon the point of being realized; and hence we indulged our imaginations in those romantic schemes which the fancied possession of the Chilian gold and Peruvian silver might be conceived to inspire. Thus animated by these flattering delusions, we passed those memorable straits, ignorant of the dreadful calamities which were then impending and just ready to break upon us,—ignorant that the time drew near when the squadron would be separated never to unite again, and that this day of our passage was the last cheerful day that the greater part of us would ever live to enjoy."

The sternmost ships were no sooner clear of the Strait, than the tranquillity of the sky was suddenly disturbed, and all the presages of a threatening storm appeared in the heavens and upon the waters. The winds were let loose upon the unfortunate fleet, and for three long months blew upon them with unrelenting fury. The Severn and Pearl parted company and were never seen again. During the month of April, forty-three of the crew of the Centurion died of the scurvy; and during the passage from the Strait to the island of Juan Fernandez the flag-ship lost, by this disease, by accident, and by tempest, two hundred and fifty men; and she could not at last muster more than six foremast-men capable of doing duty. On the 22d of May, all the various disasters, fatigues, and terrors which had previously attacked the Centurion in succession now combined in a simultaneous onset, and seem to have conspired for her destruction. A terrific hurricane from the starboard quarter split all her sails and broke all her standing rigging, endangered the masts, and shifted the ballast and stores. The air was filled with fire, and the officers and men upon the decks were wounded by exploding flashes which coursed and darted from spar to spar.

Thus crippled and disabled, with five men dying every day, and not ten of the crew able to go aloft, the Centurion, separated from her consorts, and supposing them to have perished in the storm, made the best of her weary way to the island of Juan Fernandez, where she arrived at daybreak on the 9th of June, after losing eighty more men from the scurvy.

"The aspect of this diversified country would at all times," says Anson, "have been delightful; but in our distressed situation, languishing as we were for the land and its vegetable productions,—an inclination attending every stage of the sea-scurvy,—it is scarcely credible with what transport and eagerness we viewed the shore, and with how much impatience we longed for the greens and other refreshments which were then in sight, and particularly the water. Even those among the diseased who were not in the very last stages of the distemper exerted the small remains of strength which were left them, and crawled up to the deck to feast themselves with this reviving prospect. Thus we coasted the shore, fully employed in the contemplation of this enchanting landskip."

In his description of the island, Anson speaks of the former residence of Alexander Selkirk upon it, and says, "Selkirk tells us, among other things, that, as he often caught more goats than he wanted, he sometimes marked their ears and let them go. This was about thirty-two years before our arrival at the island. Now, it happened that the first goat that was killed by our people had his ears slit; whence we concluded that he had doubtless been formerly under the power of Selkirk. He was an animal of a most venerable aspect, dignified with an exceeding majestic beard and with many other symptoms of antiquity."

The Centurion was soon joined by the Tryal sloop of war, by the Gloucester, and the victualler Anna Pink: the other members of the squadron were never heard of again. Upon the island, which was entirely deserted, Anson thought he discovered appearances which indicated the recent presence there of a Spanish force; and, as they might return, every effort was made to get the ships and the men in position to cope with them on equal terms. While refitting, a sail was discovered upon the distant horizon, and the Centurion started out in pursuit of her. Anson took her for a Spanish man-of-war, and ordered the officers' cabin to be knocked down and thrown overboard, and the decks to be cleared for action. She proved, however, to be an unarmed merchantman sailing under Spanish colors. She surrendered without delay, and proved to be the Monte Carmelo, bound from Callao to Valparaiso, with a cargo of sugar and blue cloth, and, what was infinitely more acceptable to Anson and his crew, eighty thousand dollars in Spanish coin. The Centurion then returned with her prize to Juan Fernandez. The spirits of the English were greatly raised by this capture, and their despondency dissipated by so tangible an earnest of success. The repairs upon all the vessels were hastily completed, and, while they were sent to cruise in different directions in search of Spanish merchantmen, the Centurion and the Carmelo sailed, on the 19th of September, for the general rendezvous at Valparaiso.

In November, Anson determined to attack, with the force of his two vessels, the unfortunate seaport of Paita, in Peru,—which, as may be seen from our narrative, was invariably attacked by every successive depredator. The town was taken with the utmost ease,—the governor, who was in bed at the time of the surprise, running away half naked in the utmost precipitation, and leaving his wife, hardly seventeen years old, and to whom he had been married but three days, to take care of herself. The custom-house, where the treasure lay, was seized upon and its contents transported to the ship. Anson, not satisfied with this, sent word to the governor, who had come to a halt on a distant hill, that he would listen to proposals for ransom. The governor, who was somewhat arrogant for a magistrate who had made so signal a display of poltroonery, did not deign to return an answer to these overtures: he collected together his people, however, and prepared to storm the city, but, upon second thoughts, prudently abstained. Pitch, tar, and other combustibles were now distributed by Anson's men among the houses of Paita; the cannon in the fort were spiked, and fire was then set to the town, which was speedily reduced to ashes. The loss of the Spaniards by the fire, in broadcloths, silks, velvets, cambrics, was represented by them to the court of Madrid as amounting to a million and a half of dollars. Anson's ships carried away with them, in plate, coin, and jewels, about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars more. Soon after leaving Paita, they fell in with a launch laden with jars of cotton. The people on board said they were very poor; but, as they were found dining on pigeon pie served up in silver dishes, it was thought advisable to search for the sources of this opulence. The jars of cotton were found to contain sixty thousand dollars in double doubloons.

Anson now determined to steer for the southern parts of California, there to cruise for the galleon due at Acapulco from Manilla towards the middle of January. He did not arrive there till the 1st of February, 1742; but, being assured by some of his Spanish prisoners that the galleon was often a month behind her average time, he stood on and off, waiting with feverish impatience for an arrival whose value he estimated in round millions. He soon learned, from some negroes whom he captured, that the galleon had arrived on the 9th of January. They added, however, that she had delivered her cargo, and that the Viceroy of Mexico had fixed her departure from Acapulco, on her return, for the 14th of March. This news was joyfully received by Anson and his men, as it was much more advantageous for them to seize the specie which she had received for her cargo than to seize the cargo itself.

It was now the 19th of February, and the galleon was not to leave port till the 14th of March, or, according to the old style followed by Anson, the 3d of March. The interval was employed in scrubbing the ships' bottoms, in bringing them into the most advantageous trim, and in regulating the orders, signals, and positions to be observed when the famous ship should appear in sight. The positions held were as follows: The squadron was stationed forty miles from shore,—an offing quite sufficient to escape observation: it consisted of the Centurion, the Gloucester, and three armed prizes: these were arranged in a circular line, and each ship was nine miles distant from the next, the two vessels at the extremes being, therefore, thirty-six miles apart. As the galleon could be easily discerned twenty miles outside of either extremity, the whole sweep of the squadron was seventy-five miles, the various vessels composing it being so connected by signals as to be readily informed of what was seen in any part of the line. The Centurion and the Gloucester were alone intended to come to close quarters, or, indeed, to engage in the action at all: they were therefore strengthened by accessions from the others.

The calls of hunger and all other duties were neglected on the 3d of March: all eyes were strained in the direction of Acapulco, and voices continually exclaimed that they saw one of the cutters returning with a signal. To their extreme vexation and dismay, both that day and the next passed without bringing news of the galleon. A fortnight went by; and Anson at last came to the melancholy conclusion that his presence upon the coast had been discovered, and that an embargo had been laid upon the object of all their hopes. He afterwards discovered that his presence was suspected, but not known, but that the wary Spaniards had frustrated his schemes by detaining the galleon till the succeeding year. With a heavy heart, the admiral gave orders for the departure of the fleet from the American coast, in prosecution of the plans drawn up previous to his leaving England. He sailed early in May with the Centurion and Gloucester only, having scuttled and destroyed his three prizes on the enemy's coast.

A terrible attack of scurvy soon reduced both vessels to half their working force, and a storm of unusual violence completely disabled the Gloucester. She held out, however, till the middle of August, when her stores, her prize-money, and her sick were with great difficulty removed to the Centurion, which was herself in a crazy and well-nigh desperate condition. The Gloucester was set on fire, lest her wreck might fall into the hands of the Spaniards: she continued burning through the night, firing her guns successively as the flames reached them: the magazine exploded at daylight.

The Centurion kept on her way, losing eight, nine, and ten men every twenty-four hours. A leak was discovered, which all the skill of the carpenters failed to stop. The ship and men were in a condition bordering on positive despair. Under these circumstances, the sight of two distant islands revived for a time their drooping spirits. But these islands were bare and uninhabited rocks, affording neither anchorage nor fresh water. The reaction produced by this disappointment was evident in the renewed ravages of the relentless scurvy. "And now," says Anson, "the only possible circumstance which could secure the few of us which remained alive from perishing, was the accidental falling in with some other of the Ladrone Islands better prepared for our accommodation; but, as our knowledge of them was extremely imperfect, we were to trust entirely to chance for our guidance. Thus, with the most gloomy persuasion of an approaching destruction, we stood from the island-rock of Anatacan, having all of us the strongest apprehensions either of dying of the scurvy, or of being destroyed with the ship, which, for want of hands to work her pumps, might in a short time be expected to founder."

On the 27th of August, the Centurion came in sight of a fertile and, as Anson supposed, inhabited island, which he afterwards found to be one of the Ladrones and named Tinian. Fearing the inhabitants to be Spaniards, and knowing himself to be incapable of defence, Anson showed Spanish colors, and hoisted a red flag at the foretopmast head, intending by this to give his vessel the appearance of the Manilla galleon, and hoping to decoy some of the islanders on board. The trick succeeded, and a Spaniard and four Indians were easily taken, with their boat. The Spaniard said the island was uninhabited, though it was one of an inhabited group: he affirmed that there was plenty of fresh water, that cattle, hogs, and poultry ran wild over the rocks, that the woods afforded sweet and sour oranges, limes, lemons, and cocoanuts, besides a peculiar fruit which served instead of bread; that, from the quantity and goodness of the productions of the island, the Spaniards of the neighboring station of Guam used it as a storehouse and granary from whence they drew inexhaustible supplies.

A portion of this relation Anson could verify upon the spot: he discovered herds of cattle feeding in security upon the island, and it was not difficult to fill, in imagination, the rich forests which clothed it, with tropical fruits and all the varied productions of those beneficent climes. On landing, he at once converted a storehouse filled with jerked beef into an hospital for the sick: in this he deposited one hundred and twenty-eight of his invalids. The salutary effect of land-treatment and vegetable food was such that, though twenty-one died on the first day, only ten others died during the two months that the Centurion remained at anchor in the harbor.

Anson gives a romantic account of the happy island of Tinian. The vegetation was not luxuriant and rank, but resembled the clean and uniform lawns of an English estate. The turf was composed of clover intermixed with a variety of flowers. The woods consisted of tall and wide-spreading trees, imposing in their aspect or inviting in their fruit. Three thousand cattle, milkwhite with the exception of their ears, which were black, grazed in a single meadow. The clamor and paradings of domestic poultry excited the idea of neighboring farms and villages. Both the cattle and the fowls were easily run down and captured, so that the Centurion husbanded her ammunition. The hogs were hunted by dogs trained to the pursuit, a number of which had been left by the Spaniards of Guam: they readily transferred their services and their allegiance to the English invaders. The island also produced in abundance the very best specifics for scorbutic disorders,—such as dandelion, mint, scurvy-grass, and sorrel. The inlets furnished fish of plethoric size and inviting taste; the lakes abounded with duck, teal, and curlew, and in the thickets the sportsmen found whole coveys of whistling plover.

On the night of the 22d of September a violent storm drove the Centurion from her anchorage, sundering her cables like packthread. Anson was on shore, down with the scurvy; several of the officers, and a large part of the crew, amounting in all to one hundred and thirteen persons, were on shore with him. This catastrophe reduced all, both at sea and on land, to the utmost despair: those in the ship were totally unprepared to struggle with the fury of the winds, and expected each moment to be their last; those on shore supposed the Centurion to be lost, and conceived that no means were left them ever to depart from the island. As no European ship had probably anchored here before, it was madness to expect that chance would send another in a hundred ages to come. Besides, the Spaniards of Guam could not fail to capture them ere long, and, as their letters of marque were gone in the Centurion they would undoubtedly be treated as pirates.

In this desperate state of things, Anson, who preserved, to all outward appearance, his usual composure, projected a scheme for extricating himself and his men from their forlorn situation. In case the Centurion did not return within a week, he said, it would be fair to conclude, not that she was wrecked, but that she had been driven too far to the leeward of the island to be able to return to it, and had doubtless borne away for Macao. Their policy, therefore, was to attempt to join her there. To effect this, they must haul the Spanish bark, which they had captured on their arrival, ashore, saw her asunder, lengthen her twelve feet,—which would give her forty tons' burden and enable her to carry them all to China. The carpenters, who had been fortunately left on the island, had been consulted, and had pronounced the proposal feasible. The men, who at first were unwilling to abandon all hope of the Centurion's return, at last saw the necessity of active co-operation, and went zealously to work.

The blacksmith, with his forge and tools, was the first to commence his task; but, unhappily, his bellows had been left on board the ship. Without his bellows he could get no fire; without fire he could mould no iron; and without iron the carpenters could not rivet a single plank. But the cattle furnished hides in plenty, and these hides were imperfectly tanned with the help of a hogshead of lime found in the jerked-beef warehouse: with this improvised leather, and with a gun-barrel for a pipe, a pair of bellows was constructed which answered the intention tolerably well. Trees were felled and sawed into planks, Anson working with axe and adze as vigorously as any of his men. The juice of the cocoanut furnished the men a natural and abundant grog, and one which had this advantage over the distilled mixture to which that name is usually applied,—that it did not intoxicate them, but kept them temperate and orderly. When the main work had been thus successfully started, it was found, on consultation, that the tent on shore, some cordage accidentally left by the Centurion, and the sails and rigging already belonging to the bark, would serve to equip her indifferently when she was lengthened. Two disheartening circumstances were now discovered: all the gunpowder which could be collected by the strictest search amounted to just ninety charges,—considerably less than one charge apiece to each member of the company: their only compass was a toy, such as are made for the amusement of school-boys. Their only quadrant was a crazy instrument which had been thrown overboard from the Centurion with other lumber belonging to the dead, and which had providentially been washed ashore. It was examined by the known latitude of the island of Tinian, and answered in a manner which convinced Anson that, though very bad, it was at least better than nothing.

On the 9th of October—the seventeenth day from the departure of the ship—matters were in such a state of forwardness that Anson was able to fix the 5th of November as the date of their putting to sea upon their voyage of two thousand miles. But a happier lot was in store for them. On the 11th, a man working upon a hill suddenly cried out, in great ecstasy, "The ship! the ship!" The commodore threw down his axe and rushed with his men—all of them in a state of mind bordering on frenzy—to the beach. By five in the afternoon the Centurion—for it was she—was visible in the offing: a boat with eighteen men to reinforce her, and with meat and refreshments for the crew, was sent off to her. She came happily to anchor in the roads the next day, and the commodore went on board, where he was received with the heartiest acclamations. The vessel had, during this interval of nineteen days, been the sport of storms, currents, leakages, and false reckonings; she had but one-fourth of her complement of men; and when, by a happy accident of driftage, she came in sight of the island, the crew were so weak they could with difficulty put the ship about. The reinforcement of eighteen men was sent at the very moment when, in sight of the long wished-for haven, the exhausted sailors were on the point of abandoning themselves to despair.

Fifty casks of water, and a large quantity of oranges, lemons, and cocoanuts were now hastily put on board the Centurion. On the 21st of October, the bark (so lately the object of all the commodore's hopes and fears) was set on fire and destroyed. The vessel then weighed anchor, and took leave of the island of Tinian,—an island which, in the language of Anson, "whether we consider the excellence of its productions, the beauty of its appearance, the elegance of its woods and lawns, the healthiness of its air, and the adventures it gave rise to, may in all these views be justly styled romantic." After a smooth run of twenty days, the Centurion came to an anchor on the 12th of November, in the roads of Macao,—thus, after a fatiguing cruise of two years, arriving at an amicable port and in a civilized country, where naval stores could be procured with ease, and, above all, where the crew expected the inexpressible satisfaction of receiving letters from their friends and families.

The Centurion remained more than five months at Macao, where she was careened, thoroughly overhauled, and refitted. The crew was reinforced by entering twenty-three men, some of them being Lascars, or Indian sailors, and some of them Dutch. On the 19th of April, the admiral got to sea, having announced that he was bound to Batavia and from thence to England, and, in order to confirm this delusion, having taken letters on board at Canton and Macao directed to dear friends in Batavia. But his real design was to cruise off the Philippine Isles for the returning Manilla galleon. Indeed, as he had the year before prevented the sailing of the annual ship, he had good reason to believe that there would this year be two. He therefore made all haste to reach Cape Espiritu Santo, the first land the galleons were accustomed to make. They were said to be stout vessels, mounting forty-four guns and carrying five hundred hands; while he himself had but two hundred and twenty-seven hands, thirty of whom were boys. But he had reason to expect that his men would exert themselves to the utmost in view of the fabulous wealth to be obtained.

The Centurion made Cape Espiritu Santo late in May, and from that moment forward her people waited in the utmost impatience for the happy crisis which was to balance the account of their past calamities. They were drilled every day in the working of the guns and in the use of their small-arms. The vessel kept at a distance from the cape, in order not to be discovered. But, in spite of all precautions, she was seen from the land, and information of her presence was sent to Manilla, where a force consisting of two ships of thirty-two guns, one of twenty guns, and two sloops of ten guns, was at once equipped: it never sailed, however, on account of the monsoon.

On the 20th of June, at sunrise, the man at the mast-head of the Centurion discovered a sail in the southeast quarter. A general joy spread through the ship, and the commodore instantly stood towards her. At eight o'clock she was visible from the deck, and proved to be the famous Manilla galleon. She did not change her course, much to Anson's surprise, but continued to bear down upon him. It afterwards appeared that she recognised the hostile sail to be the Centurion, and resolved to fight her. She soon hauled up her foresail, and brought to under topsails, hoisting Spanish colors. Anson picked out thirty of his choicest hands and distributed them into the tops as marksmen. Instead of firing broadsides with intervals between them, he resolved to keep up a constant but irregular fire, thus baffling the Spaniards if they should attempt their usual tactics of falling down upon the decks during a broadside and working their guns with great briskness during the intermission. At one o'clock, the Centurion, being within gunshot of the enemy, hoisted her pennant. The Spaniard now, for the first time, began to clear her decks, and tumbled cattle, sheep, pigs, goats, and poultry promiscuously into the sea. Anson gave orders to fire with the chase-guns: the galleon retorted with her sternchasers. During the first half-hour he lay across her bow, traversing her with nearly all his guns, while she could bring hardly half a dozen of hers to bear. The mats with which the galleon had stuffed her netting now took fire, and burned violently, terrifying the Spaniards and alarming the English, who feared lest the treasure would escape them. However, the Spaniards at last cut away the netting and tossed the blazing mass into the sea among the struggling and roaring cattle. The Centurion swept the galleon's decks, the topmen wounding or killing every officer but one who appeared upon the quarter, and totally disabling the commander himself. The confusion of the Spaniards was now plainly visible from the Centurion. The officers could no longer bring the men up to the work; and, at about three in the afternoon, she struck her colors and surrendered.

The galleon, named the Nostra Signora de Cabadonga, proved to be worth, in hard money, one million and a quarter of dollars. She lost sixty-seven men in the action, besides eighty-four wounded; while the Centurion lost but two men, and had but seventeen wounded, all of whom recovered but one. "Of so little consequence," remarks Anson, "are the most destructive arms in untutored and unpractised hands." The seizure of the Manilla treasure caused the greatest transport to the Centurion's men, who thus, after reiterated disappointments, saw their wishes at last accomplished.

The specie was at once removed to the Centurion, the Cabadonga being appointed by Anson to be a post-ship in his majesty's service, and the command being given to Mr. Saumarez, the first lieutenant of the Centurion. The two vessels then stood for the Canton River, and arrived off Macao on the 11th of July. On the way, Anson reckoned up not only the value of the prize just captured, but the total amount of the losses his expedition had caused the crown of Spain since it left the English shores. The galleon was found to have on board one million three hundred and thirteen thousand eight hundred and forty-three dollars, and thirty-five thousand six hundred and eighty-two ounces of virgin silver, besides cochineal and other commodities. This, added to the other treasure taken in previous prizes, made the sum total of Anson's captures in money not far from two millions,—independent of the ships and merchandise which he had either burned or destroyed, and which he set down as three millions more; to which he added the expense of an expedition fitted out by the court of Spain, under one Joseph Pizarro, for his annoyance, and which, he learned from the galleon's papers, had been entirely broken up and destroyed. "The total of all these articles," he writes, "will be a most exorbitant sum, and is the strongest proof of the utility of my expedition, which, with all its numerous disadvantages, did yet prove so extremely prejudicial to the enemy."

At Macao, Anson sold the galleon for six thousand dollars, which was much less than her value. He was very anxious to get to sea at once, that he might be himself the first messenger of his good fortune and thereby prevent the enemy from forming any projects to intercept him. The Centurion weighed anchor from Macao on the 15th of December, 1743: she touched at the Cape of Good Hope on the 11th of March, 1744, where the commodore sojourned a fortnight, in a spot which he considered as not disgraced by a comparison with the valleys of Juan Fernandez or the lawns of Tinian. The fortuitous escapes and remarkable adventures which had characterized the career of his famous ship continued till she saluted the British forts. The French had espoused the cause of Spain; and a large French fleet was cruising in the Chops of the Channel at the moment when the Centurion crossed it. The log afterwards proved that she had run directly through the hostile squadron, concealed from view by a dense and friendly fog. She arrived safe at Spithead, on the 15th of June, after an absence of three years and nine months. Anson caused the captured wealth to be transported to London, upon thirty-two wagons, to the sound of drum and fife. The two millions were divided, according to the laws which regulate the distribution of prize-money, between Anson, his officers and men,—the crown abandoning every penny to those who had suffered and fought for it. Anson was now the richest man in the naval service. The sympathy and applause bestowed upon him by the public may be imagined from the fact that the narrative of his voyage went through four immense editions in a single year, was translated into seven European languages, and met with a far greater success than had ever fallen to the lot of any maritime journal.