Hello Mates, I’ve been writing a collection of short stories for awhile now. I feel like I finally have enough that I can start releasing them in sections, kind of like the old serials, once a week. This first story is centered around the famous Sir John Hawkins and his fourth expedition. My next story is about the famous Dutch adventurer Piet Heyn and his capture of the Spanish Silver fleet. Stay tuned for Part 2 of Debacle at San Juan de Ulloa next weekend…..
A welcome gust of fresh breeze from the southeast caught his nose as the ships pitched slightly over from the burst of fresh air. He quickly breathed it in deeply. The mixture of scents aboard was just plain odd. Having just survived one of the worst storms in four expeditions, the sea soaked wood smelled strong and fishy. The smell of fresh hot rigging tar and deck caulk from the refit crew was thick in the hot tropical air. All of these combined with the foul stench of confined human odors made the air seem almost unbreathable. But John had smelled much worse. Thank God for the wind, he thought, as several lifeless black bodies were hurled overboard into the surf.
Captain Hawkins had moved himself aboard the “good old ship” Jesus of Lubeck as the small English fleet spied land on the horizon. Hawkins was on board to inspect the cargo as well as the damage the aging ship had sustained during the recent gale. She had been leaking heavily trying to stay on a northerly course and Hawkins wasn’t willing to lose her and all the gold bullion he’d collected – or for that matter the human cargo on his current expedition.
He’d been avoiding coming aboard in the rough weather, but now that they were approaching landfall, he needed to get back aboard the “flagship”. He didn’t want to put in here and their former course for Hispaniola and Florida was days past behind them as the storm had blown them helplessly westward. With their recent misfortunes, he had little choice now but to try to put in at San Juan de Ulloa for fresh supplies and a refit. Maybe they could even sell their remaining cargo there.
Regardless of his ship’s poor seaworthy condition, as they drew closer and closer to land, the Jesus offered the best views of their intended destination from this distance. At over 700 tons burthen, she dwarfed the other ships in Hawkins little six ship flotila. The Jesus was a relic of a by-gone era, but her obsolete design offered both a towering foc’sle and after castle; features typical of great ships a century past, but rarely seen by 1568. Her main crows nest towered half a mast’s length taller than any of the others. Indeed, these features had worried Hawkins several times before, watching Jesus distantly from the Minion as she lumbered along through stormy seas. Hawkins admired the hardy old vessel and knew that being at least over eighty years old she must have withstood a dozen similar storms. Nonetheless, the weight of her tops made her sway to and fro so badly that she sometimes appeared as if she would capsize. She always managed to correct herself upright again, but during this last blow, John thought to himself that he was glad he was not on board.
He mused at how funny it was that his best most dependable ships were his oldest and the ones he’d originally left England with. The Minion was just as old as the Jesus, but less than half her size at 300 tons and English built. She had the hybrid looks of a cross between carrack and galleon gained during a rebuild decades before. Unlike the Jesus, she was an extremely seaworthy ship and handled well in any conditions.
Standing at the forward larboard corner of the tall, oversized forecastle of the Jesus, Hawkins shifted slightly to the left to avoid the bright glint of sunlight reflecting off the heavy, glassy paint of the freshly coated and replaced front railing. He held his glass close to his eye and squinted to focus. He scanned the coast of the now appearing harbor revealing itself in the distance. After a long moment of intense starring at a single spot, he sighed heavily at the sight he beheld. He was hoping the harbor would be empty and was discouraged at this additional turn of bad luck. At this distance the spyglass couldn’t altogether discern the full detail necessary to make a full assessment of what was there, but enough to make out the shape of at least a dozen vessels. Several of these ships looked larger than the rest. To his great surprise there seemed to one very large ship on the western shore, within the harbor itself that looked to be a great carrack similar in shape and size to the Jesus of Lubeck.
He abruptly snapped his glass shut with both hands and then stared silently down at the rhythmically undulating wake far below them. The sun was descending fast and he knew he wouldn’t get the good look he needed at the harbor tonight. His officers shifted uneasily behind him waiting for their commander to issue orders. Robert Barrett stepped forward as if to speak, but Drake grabbed him by the arm. The familiar cousins eyes met and Drake silently with a small motion shook his head side to side. Barrett stepped back. Young Francis Drake knew not to bother their Captain when he was formulating a plan. They all had high confidence in their leader and John Hawkins had got them out of tight spots before. He would certainly do it again this time, they thought.
Hawkins continued to stare deeply into the foamy glassy wake, the glint of white and orange light dancing on its ever changing shape as the sun continued in its descent. He wondered what he would do now. Through his mind he replayed the events of the last several months, back to the beginning of the ill fated expedition. He thought even further back to the first slaving expedition he’d made with his father seven years past. Queen Elizabeth had initially condemned their amoral venture but in the end was persuaded to send Hawkins on another expedition in 1564 because of the huge profits they had made. That was the year the Queen had given Hawkins the Jesus of Lubeck. From that time forward they considered it the Queen’s flagship and indeed the Queen was fond of the old oak that had belonged to her father.
The Jesus was purchased by King Henry the Eighth over twenty years before, but was actually much older. The grand old carrack had started life in the late 1400s laid down by Baltic German shipwrights and used to haul the valuable cargoes of the Kontor of Lubeck between the rich and prosperous Hanseatic League trading cities.
Captain Hawkins smiled as he remembered the day they’d left Portsmouth almost a year before. On previous expeditions, he’d left England with more ships and men. On this, his fourth expedition, he had left England with just the Jesus, Minion, and Swallow. The Swallow, at only 100 tons was Hawkins smallest ship, but she was fairly new and patterned after the popular Flemish lines, making her a fast well handling little pinnace.
They had spent the preceeding months raiding the Guinea coast, seizing and robbing gold, slaves and ships all the way to wreaking havoc off the north Brazilian coastline and Caribbean. Hawkins now had six ships consisting of his original ships, plus three small prizes taken along the way. Two of the ships, the Angel (30 tons) and Judith (50 tons) were Spanish prizes, and the third, the Grace of God (150 tons) was a fine well armed Portuguese barque. He’d given Judith to the young, brave 22 year old Francis Drake and the Angel to a young Frenchman, around the same age, named Robert Blondel, who had joined them in Guinea and had actually bested the Captain in a wager with cards there. Hawkins had personally renamed all three ships.
It had been a good trip, like the others before. The holds of all the ships were full of gold. Most of the slaves (many of which were seized from Portuguese slave ships) had already been sold off to mostly Brazillian/Portuguese masters to be used as miners. All that was left to do was sell off the remaining slaves and head for home – England, with the hopes they may run into an additional prize or two on the way.
Hawkins wondered at the turn of bad luck. He wondered if God might be angry with him for all the killing, robbing and slavery. Surely not, he thought. After all, he was doing the work of Queen and country against his sovereign’s enemies. The Papists deserved everything they had been meted, and Hawkins was more than happy to be God’s avenging instrument of death. I will pray more often he thought, planning to work in an additional mid day prayer as part of his daily ritual.
The sun was now edging past the horizon and fires and lanterns could be seen dotting the houses and shore batteries of the now darkening, shadowy San Juan de Ulloa. The Captain gave the order to heave to, and displayed the signal for the rest of the Captains to join him aboard the Jesus. Once all the Captains had arrived aboard the Jesus of Lubeck, John Hawkins laid out his plan.
We will fool them into believing we are Spaniards, he said. No colors will be flown except for the Queen’s own colors from the Jesus and Minion. The blue and red jacks are so faded that they will not discern what nation they belong to until we are deep into the harbor. From my views of the harbor, it appears that all the craft are anchored outside the inlets and I can discern no sail in the harbor proper. We will know in the morning if I am correct. As for our current position, we will anchor here for the night and await first light.
All the Captains were agreed and the group knelt together in evening prayers before returning to their vessels. Hawkins was uneasy in his berth as he thought about what might unfold the next day. He wondered why the Spanish ships were sitting outside the harbor. Was there an obstacle or sunken ship in one of the channels? He couldn’t sleep and pulled his boots back on. He strolled out onto the low main deck. He felt like he was standing between two tall buildings with the Jesus’ tall castles towering above him on either side.
It was quiet and the ship gently ebbed and rocked slightly in the night’s gentle breeze. The air from shore whispered and sung with the familiar creaking of timbers and rigging all around him. The occasional echoing of woody pacing footsteps from the watches decks above him, was all that could be heard at this late hour. The smell was not nearly so bad now and Hawkins could make out an earthy, palmy scent on the breeze from shore that was soothing to him. The watch gave him a salute as Hawkins paced by and squinted to make out patterns in the lights on shore and from the ships outside the harbor. If he could just get in and moor, he thought, we would have a strong position and be able to negotiate. After all, he had no desire to raid at this point. Refit and trading were all he was after. If they could negotiate and hold a truce with the garrison commander, he could be underway in a week – maybe less with luck.
Hawkins ordered a double watch. Surely they knew his fleet was out here. They had to have seen them. What if they sent out boats to investigate? With this precaution taken, Hawkins went back to bed. As he finally nodded off, his dreams were filled with thoughts of his home and times long passed.
Stay tuned for Part 2
Aaron Shields
.
A welcome gust of fresh breeze from the southeast caught his nose as the ships pitched slightly over from the burst of fresh air. He quickly breathed it in deeply. The mixture of scents aboard was just plain odd. Having just survived one of the worst storms in four expeditions, the sea soaked wood smelled strong and fishy. The smell of fresh hot rigging tar and deck caulk from the refit crew was thick in the hot tropical air. All of these combined with the foul stench of confined human odors made the air seem almost unbreathable. But John had smelled much worse. Thank God for the wind, he thought, as several lifeless black bodies were hurled overboard into the surf.
Captain Hawkins had moved himself aboard the “good old ship” Jesus of Lubeck as the small English fleet spied land on the horizon. Hawkins was on board to inspect the cargo as well as the damage the aging ship had sustained during the recent gale. She had been leaking heavily trying to stay on a northerly course and Hawkins wasn’t willing to lose her and all the gold bullion he’d collected – or for that matter the human cargo on his current expedition.
He’d been avoiding coming aboard in the rough weather, but now that they were approaching landfall, he needed to get back aboard the “flagship”. He didn’t want to put in here and their former course for Hispaniola and Florida was days past behind them as the storm had blown them helplessly westward. With their recent misfortunes, he had little choice now but to try to put in at San Juan de Ulloa for fresh supplies and a refit. Maybe they could even sell their remaining cargo there.
Regardless of his ship’s poor seaworthy condition, as they drew closer and closer to land, the Jesus offered the best views of their intended destination from this distance. At over 700 tons burthen, she dwarfed the other ships in Hawkins little six ship flotila. The Jesus was a relic of a by-gone era, but her obsolete design offered both a towering foc’sle and after castle; features typical of great ships a century past, but rarely seen by 1568. Her main crows nest towered half a mast’s length taller than any of the others. Indeed, these features had worried Hawkins several times before, watching Jesus distantly from the Minion as she lumbered along through stormy seas. Hawkins admired the hardy old vessel and knew that being at least over eighty years old she must have withstood a dozen similar storms. Nonetheless, the weight of her tops made her sway to and fro so badly that she sometimes appeared as if she would capsize. She always managed to correct herself upright again, but during this last blow, John thought to himself that he was glad he was not on board.
He mused at how funny it was that his best most dependable ships were his oldest and the ones he’d originally left England with. The Minion was just as old as the Jesus, but less than half her size at 300 tons and English built. She had the hybrid looks of a cross between carrack and galleon gained during a rebuild decades before. Unlike the Jesus, she was an extremely seaworthy ship and handled well in any conditions.
Standing at the forward larboard corner of the tall, oversized forecastle of the Jesus, Hawkins shifted slightly to the left to avoid the bright glint of sunlight reflecting off the heavy, glassy paint of the freshly coated and replaced front railing. He held his glass close to his eye and squinted to focus. He scanned the coast of the now appearing harbor revealing itself in the distance. After a long moment of intense starring at a single spot, he sighed heavily at the sight he beheld. He was hoping the harbor would be empty and was discouraged at this additional turn of bad luck. At this distance the spyglass couldn’t altogether discern the full detail necessary to make a full assessment of what was there, but enough to make out the shape of at least a dozen vessels. Several of these ships looked larger than the rest. To his great surprise there seemed to one very large ship on the western shore, within the harbor itself that looked to be a great carrack similar in shape and size to the Jesus of Lubeck.
He abruptly snapped his glass shut with both hands and then stared silently down at the rhythmically undulating wake far below them. The sun was descending fast and he knew he wouldn’t get the good look he needed at the harbor tonight. His officers shifted uneasily behind him waiting for their commander to issue orders. Robert Barrett stepped forward as if to speak, but Drake grabbed him by the arm. The familiar cousins eyes met and Drake silently with a small motion shook his head side to side. Barrett stepped back. Young Francis Drake knew not to bother their Captain when he was formulating a plan. They all had high confidence in their leader and John Hawkins had got them out of tight spots before. He would certainly do it again this time, they thought.
Hawkins continued to stare deeply into the foamy glassy wake, the glint of white and orange light dancing on its ever changing shape as the sun continued in its descent. He wondered what he would do now. Through his mind he replayed the events of the last several months, back to the beginning of the ill fated expedition. He thought even further back to the first slaving expedition he’d made with his father seven years past. Queen Elizabeth had initially condemned their amoral venture but in the end was persuaded to send Hawkins on another expedition in 1564 because of the huge profits they had made. That was the year the Queen had given Hawkins the Jesus of Lubeck. From that time forward they considered it the Queen’s flagship and indeed the Queen was fond of the old oak that had belonged to her father.
The Jesus was purchased by King Henry the Eighth over twenty years before, but was actually much older. The grand old carrack had started life in the late 1400s laid down by Baltic German shipwrights and used to haul the valuable cargoes of the Kontor of Lubeck between the rich and prosperous Hanseatic League trading cities.
Captain Hawkins smiled as he remembered the day they’d left Portsmouth almost a year before. On previous expeditions, he’d left England with more ships and men. On this, his fourth expedition, he had left England with just the Jesus, Minion, and Swallow. The Swallow, at only 100 tons was Hawkins smallest ship, but she was fairly new and patterned after the popular Flemish lines, making her a fast well handling little pinnace.
They had spent the preceeding months raiding the Guinea coast, seizing and robbing gold, slaves and ships all the way to wreaking havoc off the north Brazilian coastline and Caribbean. Hawkins now had six ships consisting of his original ships, plus three small prizes taken along the way. Two of the ships, the Angel (30 tons) and Judith (50 tons) were Spanish prizes, and the third, the Grace of God (150 tons) was a fine well armed Portuguese barque. He’d given Judith to the young, brave 22 year old Francis Drake and the Angel to a young Frenchman, around the same age, named Robert Blondel, who had joined them in Guinea and had actually bested the Captain in a wager with cards there. Hawkins had personally renamed all three ships.
It had been a good trip, like the others before. The holds of all the ships were full of gold. Most of the slaves (many of which were seized from Portuguese slave ships) had already been sold off to mostly Brazillian/Portuguese masters to be used as miners. All that was left to do was sell off the remaining slaves and head for home – England, with the hopes they may run into an additional prize or two on the way.
Hawkins wondered at the turn of bad luck. He wondered if God might be angry with him for all the killing, robbing and slavery. Surely not, he thought. After all, he was doing the work of Queen and country against his sovereign’s enemies. The Papists deserved everything they had been meted, and Hawkins was more than happy to be God’s avenging instrument of death. I will pray more often he thought, planning to work in an additional mid day prayer as part of his daily ritual.
The sun was now edging past the horizon and fires and lanterns could be seen dotting the houses and shore batteries of the now darkening, shadowy San Juan de Ulloa. The Captain gave the order to heave to, and displayed the signal for the rest of the Captains to join him aboard the Jesus. Once all the Captains had arrived aboard the Jesus of Lubeck, John Hawkins laid out his plan.
We will fool them into believing we are Spaniards, he said. No colors will be flown except for the Queen’s own colors from the Jesus and Minion. The blue and red jacks are so faded that they will not discern what nation they belong to until we are deep into the harbor. From my views of the harbor, it appears that all the craft are anchored outside the inlets and I can discern no sail in the harbor proper. We will know in the morning if I am correct. As for our current position, we will anchor here for the night and await first light.
All the Captains were agreed and the group knelt together in evening prayers before returning to their vessels. Hawkins was uneasy in his berth as he thought about what might unfold the next day. He wondered why the Spanish ships were sitting outside the harbor. Was there an obstacle or sunken ship in one of the channels? He couldn’t sleep and pulled his boots back on. He strolled out onto the low main deck. He felt like he was standing between two tall buildings with the Jesus’ tall castles towering above him on either side.
It was quiet and the ship gently ebbed and rocked slightly in the night’s gentle breeze. The air from shore whispered and sung with the familiar creaking of timbers and rigging all around him. The occasional echoing of woody pacing footsteps from the watches decks above him, was all that could be heard at this late hour. The smell was not nearly so bad now and Hawkins could make out an earthy, palmy scent on the breeze from shore that was soothing to him. The watch gave him a salute as Hawkins paced by and squinted to make out patterns in the lights on shore and from the ships outside the harbor. If he could just get in and moor, he thought, we would have a strong position and be able to negotiate. After all, he had no desire to raid at this point. Refit and trading were all he was after. If they could negotiate and hold a truce with the garrison commander, he could be underway in a week – maybe less with luck.
Hawkins ordered a double watch. Surely they knew his fleet was out here. They had to have seen them. What if they sent out boats to investigate? With this precaution taken, Hawkins went back to bed. As he finally nodded off, his dreams were filled with thoughts of his home and times long passed.
Stay tuned for Part 2
Aaron Shields
.