University of Virginia Library


79

VI THE TREASURE GALLEONS

Beyond the gloom of ice-scarred cliffs that bound that austral land
The coast trends north two thousand miles through plains of yellow sand;
And darkly shadowed far inland the sudden Andes rise
With bleak and barren flanks that turn towards the sunset skies;
For bounteous earth looks eastward there, and from her snow-capped crests
Great rivers flow to meet the dawn among her fruitful breasts.
But rarely some lone mountain tarn spills westward down the chain
A stream that feeds its borderlands of garden in the plain;
So the ports where ships may enter are few and far between,
Where some such silver thread winds down to make the desert green.
They watched the snows of Andes slide past beneath the moon,
And felt the summer's breath once more blow down the mellow noon;

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The eager zest of life came back, they drank a glorious air,
Forgot the toil of weary months and winter's long despair.
It was a fair November eve in Valparaiso Bay,
Where all aboard made taut for sea the treasure-galleon lay.
The crew were lounging o'er her sides to watch the setting sun,
And sweetly fell the end of day to men whose work was done.
A lazy mist hung o'er the stream and veiled the hills in blue,
And up the lime-washed belfry tower the rose of evening grew.
The ripple from the river ran a sheet of quivered flame,
And softly on the dropping breeze the bell's low tinkle came;
When round the distant headland a dark sail hove in sight,
A gallant bark stood up the bay, and swiftly fell the night.
An hour more and the last red glow on ocean's margin waned,
And through the pale star-clusters the queen moon rose and reigned.
The Spaniards broached a cask of wine, the crew stood by to greet
The ship come in from Panama with tidings from the fleet.
A boat has left the stranger craft, they hailed, and one replied,
And a score of sturdy Devon lads have swarmed the galleon's side;
A sudden rush has cleared the decks, and up swarmed twenty more,
And the galleon's crew are overboard and striking out for shore;

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But her pilot hailed them friends, not foes, a Greek long years impressed,
An eager guide to steer the Hind along the unknown west.
Oh, never draught of wine hath seemed so sweet to parching mouth
As that first cup they pledged on board the Captain of the South!
A panic seized the little port, the townsfolk fled inland,
And left their stores of Chili wine and all good things to hand.
So three days more Drake lingered here and stocked the ship afresh,
They had lived too long on melted snow and the bitter penguin flesh;
And the scurvy-stricken wretches laughed out for very mirth
As they culled the fruits they craved for and blessed the mother earth.
Then wind and current bore them north along the yellow main,
And the sound of fife and hautboy was heard on board again;
For keen as lads let loose from school, with reckless jest and boast
They raided every bight and bay that frets the silver coast.
And ere they left Arica's quays with all her ingots stored,
There was half-a-million ducats' worth of silver bars on board.
In splendid scorn of circumstance, with desperate odds to face,
They sailed, those first intruders of our adventurous race;

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To-day a wiser, wearier world will brand them buccaneers;
They did not doubt their cause was just in those distracted years.
In a little while all England's isle, like them, shall gird for fray:
The first who battle with the strong must use what arms they may.
But still no tidings came to hand of Wynter and his crew,
So they bore away for Lima and the spoils of rich Peru.
For every bark they had overhauled confirmed their pilot's tale,
That the richest prize in all those seas lay there and due to sail.
They left the Captain of the South without a crew to drift,
Henceforth the Hind must sail alone, for the race is to the swift:
And fleeter than the tidings ran from shores their advent scared,
They sailed beyond their ill-renown and found men unprepared.
They lay hove-to a sea-league off, and then with never a light
Ran up Callao di Lima in the dead of a murky night.
But the giant Cacafuego had sailed ten days before,
Deep laden to the water-line with all Potosi's ore;
And while they ransacked empty hulls a wild alarum broke
From clamouring bells and signal-guns, and startled Lima woke;
Red torches flitted through the gloom, men mustered on the quay,
And Drake must cut his cable-tow and hurry out to sea.

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But the light night breeze died down with dawn, and there the rovers lay
With flapping sails struck motionless a short sea-league away;
While rumour rode with panic spur, their one ship grew to ten,
And the Viceroy of Peru marched down with twice a thousand men.
He has manned and armed four galleons, with the charge to take or burn
The Dragon in his devil-ship, or nevermore return.
But still across a cloudless sky the slow sun climbed and crept,
While like a sheet of milky glass the breathless ocean slept;
And morn and morrow's morning dawned, and still like a drowsy spell
On land and water, friend and foe, the trance of nature fell.
And now the watchers on the Hind beheld from those clear shores
Two galleys move like living things on hundred-footed oars;
They heard their pulsing measured thud far off across the calm
As they cleared their deck for action and sang the battle psalm.
The general's clear blue eye surveyed the narrowing space between,
“Now, lads,” cried he, “to play the man, for God and for the Queen!”
But ere the answering cheer died down a dark flaw crimped the seas,
The ripple rattled on the stem, they sniffed the coming breeze:

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The white sails filled, the good ship heeled, the merry land-wind blew,
And as a scared swan skims the lake she shook her wings and flew.
And now to crowd all canvas on and dog the Spitfire's wake,
There sails no craft of Panama shall show clean heels to Drake.
They tracked her north from port to port, they never lost the trace,
Eight hundred weary miles of sea, and yet she baffled chase.
She had lingered in Truxillo to load more treasure still,
She had watered at Paita, she had touched at Guayaquil.
It was hard on the Line on the first of March when the morning broke at last,
They were 'ware of her square-rig far away, and they knew that they held her fast.
So they shortened sail in the Golden Hind to wait till the end of day,
And they trailed great casks and breakers at her stern to check the way.
The sun was dropping down the west as they cut her fetters free,
And like a greyhound slipped from leash she bounded through the sea:
They hauled the chase as twilight fell—one flight of arrows flew,
One broadside brought the mainyard down, and the giant ship hove to.
Night strode across the heaving deep, night and the unknown foe,
And the richest prize that ever sailed has struck without a blow.

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Her captain sits at meat with Drake, a sore unwilling guest,
And prize and captor side by side have set their courses west.
Far off in ocean's solitude, secure from all pursuit,
They overhauled the priceless freight and they found an empire's loot:
There were thirteen chests of minted coin, there were pearls and gems untold,
And all the ballast under decks was silver bars and gold.
The admiral of the treasure fleets at Nombre waits in vain,
For not one ounce of all that gold shall find its way to Spain.
The cruisers sent from Lima long since had cried despair,
The Dragon came they knew not whence, and was gone they knew not where.
So all the coast rose up in arms, and, as the panic grew,
The great ship came to Panama, a long month overdue;
They had met, they said, with a corsair, whose like there was none on earth,
For the men at arms who served him were of England's gentlest birth;
There was never a crew so ordered, so quick to the captain's call,
He lived like a prince in his state on board, and his will was a law for all.
They had brought a letter signed and sealed with a haughty word from Drake,
And the king's vicegerent gnashed his teeth as he read for anger's sake;
“There be English seamen here,” he wrote, “of my own old fellowship,
Whose limbs are chained to your galley bench, and red from the driver's whip,

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‘Henceforth I bid you give good heed that they come to no more harm,
Or I'll hang me a thousand Spaniards at the Golden Hind's yard-arm.”
So frigates with despatches sailed post haste from Venta Cruz,
And soon Madrid and Lisbon rang with this disastrous news;
Then Sarmiento put to sea to block Magellan's Strait,
And Philip's envoy found the Queen no novice in debate;
Once more El Draque had dared transgress the sea's forbidden bar,
Had set the bulls of Rome at naught, perplexing peace with war;
His liege of Spain would learn forthwith whose flag these corsairs fly!—
Not Cecil, but the Queen herself, returned the proud reply:
“For proven wrong waits due redress; but ill-timed comes your plea
When hireling bravos land and league with Desmond's Irishry:
“When all the claims myself have urged for wrongs to be redressed
Still wait my kinsman's courtesy to be answered—for the rest,
“I have yet to learn what papal bulls run west of Finisterre
To bar my people's birthright in ocean, earth, and air!”
And thus the war of words ran high with claim and counter-claim,
And weeks and months rolled on for years—but of Drake no tidings came.