best Englishman, and desired they might be improved in the use of arms.” To confirm the contract, Rogers gave them a suit of “Bays,” and “made them drink a dram all round” to the success of the voyage. In order that nothing should be wanting he staged a sham fight to exercise them “in the use of our great guns and small arms,” and in the heat of the engagement “to imitate business,” red-lead mixed with water, was liberally sprinkled over them; “a very agreeable diversion,” comments Rogers.
And so for the real business, the capture of the Manila ship. All the romance of buccaneering and privateering hangs round these great treasure galleons, the annual ships from Manila to Acapulco, and the sister ships from Acapulco to Manila. It was the golden dream of every sailor who sailed these seas to capture one of them, but although many had made the attempt, only one prior to this, that famous Elizabethan seaman Thomas Cavendish, had actually done so, in 1587.[16] Here was a feat worthy of emulation, and so, in the November of 1709, we find Rogers and his little squadron cruising off Cape St. Lucas waiting and watching in the “very place” and in the same month where Cavendish “took the Manila ship” one hundred and twenty-two years earlier. It was a long and weary watch which tested both the temper and the mettle of the men to the extreme. Through the whole of November no sign of the treasure ship was to be seen; several of the men mutinied and were confined in irons, and two others broke open the store room and stole from the fast diminishing stock of victuals. By the 20th of December provisions were at such a low ebb that Rogers records “we all looked very melancholy and dispirited,” and after consultation with his officers it was agreed to make for the Island of Guam “with the utmost dispatch” in order to revictual. All hope of falling in with the Manila ship had been practically abandoned, when at 9 o’clock on the following morning a man at the masthead of the Duke cried out that he saw a sail distant about 7 leagues “bearing West half south of us.”
At this “great and joyful surprize” the English ensign was immediately hoisted, and both the Duke and Dutchess “bore away after her.” The weather had now “fallen calm,” and all through that day and the next Rogers hung on to his prey, with his two pinnaces tending her “all night,” and showing “false fires” that they might keep in touch. Before nightfall on the 22nd, both the Duke and Dutchess cleared for action, and everything was made ready to engage the ship at daybreak. As day dawned the chase was observed upon the Duke’s weather bow, about a league away, while the Dutchess was ahead of her “to leeward near about half as far.” The ships were now becalmed, and Rogers was forced to get “out 8 of our ships oars, and rowed above an hour.” A light breeze then sprang up and carried them gently towards the enemy. There was no time to be lost; not a dram of liquor was in the ship to fortify the spirits of the men, so a large kettle of chocolate was boiled and served out to the crew, who when they had emptied their pannikins, went to prayers like true British sailors. Ere long their devotions were disturbed by the enemy’s gunfire, and about eight o’clock the Duke began to engage the Spaniard single-handed; the Dutchess “being to leeward, and having little wind, could not get up in time.” The enemy presented a most formidable aspect with powder barrels hanging at each yard-arm, “to deter us from boarding.”
As the Duke approached she received the fire of the enemy’s stern-chasers, to which she was only able to reply with her fore-chasers. Holding on her course she soon ranged alongside the great galleon, and gave her several broadsides. The precision and rapidity of the English gunners was apparent from the first, and after a little while the Duke “shot a little ahead” and placing herself across the bows of the galleon, plied her guns with such good effect that the Spaniard hauled her colours “two thirds down” and surrendered.[17] The fight, which was hotly contested, according to Rogers, lasted “about three glasses,” and on board the Spaniard 9 men were killed and several wounded. On the English side only two were wounded, Rogers and an Irish landsman. Rogers’s wound was a serious one; he was shot in the left cheek, the bullet carrying away part of his upper jaw. As he lay on the deck writhing in agony, he pluckily delivered his orders in writing.
Two days later, although he had “much ado to swallow any sort of liquids,” and was obviously very ill, it was decided to cruise for a larger ship which the prisoners stated had sailed from Manila at the same time. On Christmas eve the Dutchess and the Marquis sailed out of the harbour of Port Segura to search for the larger ship. The inability of the former to engage the other Spanish ship in time had caused “some reflections amongst the sailors,” and it was decided by a majority of the Council that Rogers with the Duke and the prize should wait in harbour to refit—much “against our will.” However, Rogers was not to be put aside. He placed two men on an adjoining hilltop to signal as soon as the Spanish ship was sighted, and on the 26th he stood out to sea to join his consorts. By 9 o’clock in the morning the Dutchess was observed engaging the Spaniard, and the Marquis “standing to them with all the sail she could crowd.” Unfortunately at this moment the Duke was some twelve miles to leeward, and as the wind was light she made little way. By the afternoon the Dutchess was joined in the attack by the Marquis, but the latter soon fell to leeward out of cannon shot, being apparently temporarily disabled. Fortunately she soon recovered, and renewed the attack with great vigour “for 4 glasses and upwards.” The brunt of the fighting having fallen on the Dutchess she now “stretched ahead to windward” of the enemy, to repair her rigging and stop a leak. In the meantime the Marquis kept firing several broadsides until the Dutchess “bore down again,” when the fight was renewed until nightfall. All this time Rogers in the Duke was crowding on all sail to come to his consorts’ assistance. At daybreak the wind shifted, and Rogers was able to bring his guns to bear. The Dutchess being now “thwart the Spaniards hawse,” and plying her guns very fast, those that missed their target, exposed the Duke to a serious risk “if we had lain on her quarters and across her stem, as I had designed.” Rogers now ranged his ship alongside the Spaniard, and for 4 glasses continued pouring broadsides into her. The Duke now received two shots in her mainmast, which disabled her, and a fire ball lighting on her quarter-deck blew up a chest of gunpowder, and nearly fired the ship. The Dutchess was in much the same plight, and “having our rigging shattered very much,” Rogers records, “we sheered off, and brought to.”
A Council was now held on board the Duke, and taking into consideration the damage that the ships had received, coupled with the fact that their ammunition was nearly exhausted, it was unanimously agreed “to forbear any further attempts” on the Spaniard. The loss of such a valuable prize caused great disappointment, and it was Rogers’s opinion, that had the Duke been allowed to accompany the Dutchess and Marquis on their first setting out “we all believe we might then have carried this great ship.” However, Rogers had reason to be proud of the way in which his ships had acquitted themselves. The lofty Spaniard was the Admiral of Manila, named Bigonia, a new ship of 900 tons, with a crew of 450 and mounting 60 brass guns. It was estimated that the English fired no less than 500 shot (6 pounders) into her hull. From first to last the English had fought her for seven hours, and the casualties on the Duke were 11 wounded, while the Dutchess had about 20 killed and wounded, and the Marquis 2 scorched with powder. Among the wounded was Rogers, who had part of his ankle carried away when the Spaniards’ fireball blew up on the quarter-deck. To the end of the action he lay on his back where he fell, encouraging the men, and refusing to be carried below.
It was now resolved to return to Port Segura on the Californian coast to look after the prize already taken, and on the 1st day of January they were again in harbour. The Acapulco galleon was now named the Batchelor in honour of Alderman Batchelor of Bristol, one of the financiers of the expedition.[18] By a majority the Council decided to appoint Dover to command her, and Rogers, ill as he was, strongly protested against the appointment. Dover was not a seaman; he was absolutely incapable of commanding and navigating the prize to England. Moreover his temper was such that most of the seamen refused to serve under him. Finally a compromise was arrived at, and Captains Frye and Stretton were entrusted with the “navigation, sailing, and engaging” of the ship, and Selkirk was appointed Master. Dover, though nominally in
