The Man Who Was Robinson Crusoe

by Rick Wilson

  They regrouped on the mid-gulf island of Puna, guarding the mouth of the estuary, where they overcame minimal resistance then hid their pinnaces among the mangrove trees, purloined two barges and all the canoes they could find there, before they set off up the hostile tropical river (infested with alligators), besieged by mosquitoes which ‘pestere’d and stung grievously.’ It did not get off to a good start. One of the prisoners, an Indian, had made his escape from the island, swimming strongly across the river. Selkirk thought of shooting his musket after him, or even giving chase, but was discouraged by superiors, who reckoned silence was more important to the exercise and that they would rather not chance losing the Scotsman to drowning, hungry alligators or piranhas. There was an outside chance that such a fit escapee, no doubt also fleet of foot, could make his way through the steaming jungle to warn the town of their approach.

  Rowing and paddling mainly by twilight and darkness, it took the barbarous little flotilla – its larger craft armed with swivel guns and mortars, the canoe men wielding muskets and cutlasses – more than another two mosquito-plagued, sweltering days to get to Guayaquil. As no more than shadows to anyone who might have imagined they saw them, the marauders silently drew up before the town just before one am on April 22, set to unleash a furious attack when given the word. But they were taken aback to hear the sound of church bells, growing slowly into a monotonous cacophony the closer they got to the shore. Then they stared forward in disbelief as, with the same kind of timing, light began to grow up and out of the town. It started with a bonfire flickering on a high hill behind the stacked silhouettes of the houses, and soon the whole town was ablaze with lights as seemingly disembodied torches were seen to float through all the streets. But most alarming of all to the would-be attackers were the sudden chatterings of small arms and crunching cracks of cannon fire.

  Had the town been warned? Had the lone Indian got through? It certainly seemed like it, and the signal to pull back was given. Suddenly worried, the senior officers ordered Selkirk to keep the men quiet as they retreated to a secluded place where they could be heard whispering urgently about what strategy to adopt now. It was clear that Woodes Rogers, not believing the town had been warned and feeling that they were witnessing some kind of religious celebration, wanted to press on; but there was strong resistance from William Dampier and from Dr Dover, who insisted that they were in grave danger and should turn back to the ships.

  In the end, a compromise was reached; the invaders should show themselves in a bellicose manner, threaten violence with the promise of much more downstream where that came from, and try to negotiate a ransom from senior figures of the town – in return for which they would surrender their Spanish prisoners or ‘hostages’, as they would now be called, and make off in peace. So the following day they moved upstream towards the town again and anchored within sight of it. There were no more bells or fires but there was much alarm, shouting and commotion, screaming people running about and the noise of a few guns firing. Selkirk was not sure what they were firing at, but he had a fair idea, as he and an English sailor with some understanding of the language brought forward in a pinnace two Spanish prisoners, one Joseph Arizabella and another whose name has not been recorded, to act as translators.

  At length, a group of townsmen appeared at the riverside, with the corregidor, or commandant, at their head. He was smiling an empty smile, but Selkirk was not. Disembarked with musket and his own ‘linguist’ at the ready in case of any foul play, he stood grimly on the shore at one side of the hostages, while an elegant Dr Dover in full gentleman’s uniform took their other side. Boldly, he began to set out the privateers’ terms. A peace-buying figure of 50,000 pieces of eight (one of which was roughly equivalent to an American dollar) was put to the commandant, who stopped smiling and asked for time to retire and think about it. And after taking four hours longer than agreed, he returned with effusive greetings and gifts of wine, flour, sheep and pigs for the British officers – but no money. The town had been through hard times, he explained, and such a sum was beyond its means.

  Dover sighed with exasperation and lowered his demand to 40,000 pieces of eight. Again the town chief asked for more time – in this case nine days – and, as he did so, Selkirk began to realise what was going on. So did Woodes Rogers, whose patience was wearing thin. It was clear that time was being bought so that the people could remove their treasures and smuggle them into the jungle (and indeed it was learned later from captured townsfolk that ‘eighty thousand pieces’ had been carried out of the town along with plate, linen and other valuable items). Any fool could see that, except Dr Dover, an English gentleman to the core.

  Despite this, his final condition was much tougher. Their last offer would be accepted only if three ‘good’ hostages were surrendered to make it sound, otherwise the invaders would ‘take down our Flag of Truce, land, and give no Quarter, and fire the Town and ships.’ And as new hostages appeared not to be forthcoming – while more time was passing – that was exactly what Woodes Rogers stepped in to do. He lowered his flag of truce, displayed instead the British ensign and field colours, told Dover to reject the Spaniards’ final desperate offer – of 32,000 pieces of eight – and without further ado unleashed his men of war.

  They exploded into action with such ferocity that even the ‘wild man’ Selkirk found that ‘no Command could be kept as soon as the first Piece was fired.’ Their incursion was decisive and emphatic, as they poured out of the boats on to the land and tore into the defending Spaniards, who fought on horseback but found their horses falling fast. Twenty of them died, and as many riders. As the survivors retreated into the surrounding trees, the invaders kept up their quick reloading and relentless fire, took over three churches, and gained complete possession of the town within half an hour.

  The church raiders even tried to rip open coffins and pull up floorboards in their search for gold. Woodes Rogers managed to deter most of them from this with the news that the town had just been hit with a tropical fever epidemic that had killed scores of people and the putrefying bodies were still being piled up in the churches.

  But the churches were ransacked nonetheless as the sailors ran amok. There was still some gold and silver to be had there, though the vanishing natives had relieved them of most of their treasure. Bits and pieces of silver were found among provisions in private homes and storerooms before they set them alight; they even managed to acquire the town commandant’s gold-headed cane, but frustration was biting into the plunderers’ hearts. Every Spanish town on this coast was full of gold; that was why they were here; and yet, with the exception of a coin here and a trinket there, Guayaquil was empty of both treasure and people. Both were hidden away and it was clear to the plunderers that they had been outwitted.

  Selkirk himself might have been known as a brawler in the past, but even he was taken aback by the behaviour of his shipmates, so much so that when he saw two of them stumbling drunk and laden with stolen wine bottles out of a private house, he challenged them – ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ – and smashed the bottles to the ground.

  It was not normally his role to take the moral high ground, but Selkirk was truly cast in this image with his next task. It was a delicate one and Captain Rogers had to find the right man or men to do it. He had not been too proud of his sailors on this occasion – though it wasn’t news to him that seamen were difficult to control on land – but he was an English gentleman, so if there was treasure to be hunted down outside the town, and if it were to be found where he had heard it might be, considerable self-restraint would be called for in taking charge of it.

  Why? A released Indian prisoner of the Spanish had told him that much of the town’s riches had been taken to houses upriver in boats and barges – and these had included aristocratic womenfolk who were the proud possessors of much fine gold and jewellery. Sensing that they would be the key to this adventure being successful after all, the captain decided he would happily see the women relieve
d of their baubles but would countenance no ill-treatment of them. He did not want a British fleet to be accused of rape or anything resembling it.

  The challenge also needed to be met by a decisive man of action, sexless examples of which were very few. Who could he call upon? Who could he trust? Who could he at least persuade to take the part on pain of losing his share of the plunder? It had to be Selkirk. The recalcitrant Scot had promptly obeyed every order until now, and they both knew it was mainly because he now wanted, above anything else, to be a rich man. He had not lain with a woman for maybe six years but he still had the mental strength, Rogers reckoned, not to let sexual temptation get in the way of his golden future. He also gave this credit to Lieutenant Connely of the Dutchess and, after explaining the task to both men – stressing that many of these women would be young and beautiful – he demanded that they accomplish the task with ‘no unpleasantness or disrespect, or else ... ’

  Taking 21 men with them, including one interpreter, the pair proceeded seven leagues upriver (21 miles/34km). On arrival at a group of houses, built on either side of the river, they left five men as a guard in the boat with a swivel gun, and before they began their work managed to chase 35 Spanish horsemen off into the woods. Fear then opened most doors, but the men were polite as they stole. Throughout the day they visited house after house, seeing no more menfolk as they picked up as many jewels as they could from the terrified women; none of whom was as young and beautiful as promised, Selkirk noted, until they came upon a bigger house, set back a little into the jungle. After kicking open a few of its doors, a scream led their way to a huddled group of at least a dozen beautiful young aristocrats. They were elegantly, but lightly, attired and it was no hardship for the men to see that under their fine dresses they had hidden their gold chains and best jewellery; nor, presumably, was it a hardship for them to feel around the girls’ bodies to confirm their findings. And yet they had to be on their best behaviour as the women pushed aside their silks and fine linens to reveal tantalising glimpses of flesh while loosening their treasures.

  That, at least, is the official story, as recorded in his journal by Woodes Rogers for posterity, public consumption and his superiors, presumably on the say-so of those who were there. He wrote:

  Some of their largest Gold Chains were conceal’d and wound about their Middles, Legs and Thighs, etc,. but the Gentlewomen in these hot Countries being very thin clad with silk and fine Linnen, and their Hair dressed with Ribbons very neatly, our Men by pressing felt the Chains etc with their Hands on the Out-side of the Lady’s Apparel, and by their Linguist modestly desired the Gentlewomen to take ’em off and surrender ’em. This I mention as Proof of our Sailors Modesty, and in respect to Mr Connely and Mr Selkirk, the late Governour of Juan Fernandez.

  It is pretty hard to take in that such hardened sailors could be such gentlemen in such circumstances, and Diana Souhami for one is not buying it. The award-winning author of Selkirk’s Island writes that Rogers’ readers were expected to believe that:

  … these men, who had been at sea for eight frustrating months and, in Selkirk’s case, marooned alone for four and a half years, who could not be controlled ‘as soon as the first piece was fired’, who had drunk a good deal of liquor, smashed their way into churches with iron crowbars and torched people’s houses, none the less when it came to sexual civility defied the customs of war and behaved with modesty and respect as they groped women’s bodies to steal their jewels.

  There are a few embellished, almost fictional tales supporting Woodes Rogers’ version, telling how Selkirk played the gentleman-hero in holding back not just his sex-hungry men but himself too, when given the freedom to ‘modestly’ molest several wide-eyed, olive-skinned beauties in search of treasures hidden in the most intimate of places. There is even a further passage told of how the women were so grateful for the marauders’ restraint that when they returned from more plundering upriver and passed the house again, the females came out with smiles, to offer them refreshments from a flagon of wine and a tray of food.

  Aye, right, as we say in Scotland. If true, the episode is certainly to Selkirk’s credit. But it is hard to imagine the beautiful senoritas weeping and waving fond farewells as their foreign molesters rowed away with their refreshments, valuables and modesty.

  One way or another, after an absence of 24 hours, Selkirk and his men were fairly well satisfied and they returned to Guayaquil like highwaymen with about $2000 worth of plunder in gold plate, chains, earrings and jewellery. It was not a huge haul, but it felt like they were getting some real treasure into their coffers at last. In the meantime, while Woodes Rogers had billeted himself in a house there, the town was still being tacitly held to ransom against some Spanish hostages. They had proved interesting to hold as well. It was they who told the British that the lights and noise they had met on their original approach to the town were part of a religious celebration and not prompted by their appearance; but they also told them about being spotted later – while apprehension was delaying the landing party – which set the townsfolk into action, smuggling church treasures and 80,000 pieces of eight out into the jungle, never to be found.

  There was still money to be got, however. On the 26th a Spanish messenger came forward with an offer of 30,000 pieces of eight to persuade the invaders to leave town. In return, the townsfolk wanted their two boats and hostages back. Tired of being soldiers, the sailors made their captain realise that now was the time to take the money and run; so it was quickly agreed that they had a deal. It had been an ugly and messy operation but Woodes Rogers was pleased enough, having taken tally of his winnings, and so were the sailors.

  So too were the relieved townspeople, watching mainly from the safety of the surrounding woods. The rough, tough privateers left some of their less attractive plunderings and carelessly cast-aside weapons (‘Pistils, Cutlashes and Pole-axes’) and marched to their boats ‘with colours flying’, making their getaway frighteningly loud – with much ‘Shew and Noise’ generated by drums, trumpets and guns – in stark contrast to the sinister silence in which they had arrived.

  They were exhausted, stained with old sweat and blood, but anyone would have thought them almost euphoric amid the departing noise, laughter and banter. Helped along with some fortifying local liquor, they were so high they barely noticed the voracious mosquitoes on the return downriver. Even Selkirk couldn’t disguise a satisfied smile as they pulled their potent little convoy of small craft to return to the big ships. Still grasping his musket, he kept a wary eye on the pinnace that held their plunder under a sail sheet and told himself that, while it hadn’t been the greatest or most honourable of victories, they had a fair bag of plunder, they had done their dirty work, and it was over with. Could he thank the Lord? Was the Lord still on his side? It seemed so, for the Scot sensed he was now on the edge of becoming rich; and he was astonished that their raiding party had suffered the death of only one man, John Martin, a victim of a splitting shell as he fired it from a mortar.

  That was an easy escape, he must have thought. But he didn’t know then it was about to get a lot tougher. Within a few days, the expedition’s mood changed dramatically, for the raiders had brought more than treasure with them from the town – a rampant tropical fever, probably malaria caught from the river mosquitoes, although Woodes Rogers thought it was another kind of plague passed from the putrefying corpses in the churches of Guayaquil.

  Bled and dosed with spices and alcohol, around 120 sailors, more than half of those who had been on the river raid, were treated for the tropical fever on the Increase, Selkirk’s hospital ship, and, astonishingly, only 13 of them died, thanks to the energetic efforts of Dr Dover and his surgeons, John Ballett and James Wasse. But there was more work to be done and the widespread sickness had delayed their mission to find, attack and capture a Manila galleon. The passing weeks had also meant exhausting supplies, with a critical shortage of fresh water, so 72 prisoners were put ashore at Tacames village by Selkirk. Tho
ugh he was given some provisions in return, it was not long before a ‘melancholy Time’ was being experienced in the hungry and thirsty convoy that comprised the Duke, Dutchess, Marquess, Increase and Joseph, the 50-tonner captured off Peru, which was now under Selkirk’s command.

  They plundered smaller ships as they could, but the cargoes often proved mundane and unexciting – things like old quilts, brass pans, bags of potatoes and soup ladles – because many Spanish ships had been warned to stop carrying valuables as ‘the English were in ye Seas.’ But both the Spanish and the English knew there was one ship in ‘ye Seas’ that could not be warned and it was certainly full to the gunwhales with untold riches. And a Manila galleon was due to appear in these waters off California any time now. It would be quite a challenge to fight and capture it with their men so weak from recent sickness and severe hunger that had them eating rats by then. Even Woodes Rogers admitted that ‘should we meet an Enemy in this condition, we could make but a mean Defence ... Everything looks dull and discouraging.’

  But the bigger challenge was: how to find it? A line of vigilance would have to be created which the galleon would have to cross to reach its destination port of Acapulco in Mexico. At intervals of 15, 30 and 45 miles off the shore the Duke, Dutchess and Marquess formed a thin patrol line that was monitored by Selkirk, now in the Joseph. His task was to pass communications between the three bigger ships while also keeping an eye out – between the intervening seascape – for the galleon.