by Brian Vale
At the end of November, work on the Chilean ships had been concluded and Cochrane was ready to go. On 28th, his ships slipped their moorings and after a three-day passage emerged from the brown waters and sultry airs of the Guaya River into the refreshing breezes of the open sea. On 3 December, they rounded the barren flats of the Saint Elena peninsular, found the edge of the southwest trades, and headed northwards up the coast. Two days later, they anchored off the Island of Plata, one degree south of the equator where Sir Francis Drake had allegedly buried treasure two and a half centuries before, to fill their water casks from the fresh streams that cut their way through the thorn covered rocks. That done, Cochrane divided his forces. Captain Robert Simpson in the Araucano was ordered to Mexico to investigate the situation in Acapulco, while the handier schooner Mercedes was sent north to search the Gulf of Panama under Lieutenant James Shepherd. With his remaining ships, O'Higgins, Valdivia and Independencia - commanded respectively by Thomas Sackville Crosby, Henry Cobbett and William Wilkinson - Cochrane set course for Mexico, 1500 miles to the northwest. Aided by the ocean currents that hook westerly into the Pacific, the flotilla passed quickly through the doldrums and, driven on the starboard tack by north-easterly winds blowing out of the Gulf of Panama, headed northwest for the Island of Cocos. On 11 December, after six days of uneventful blue water sailing, they sighted the jungle covered bluffs that marked their destination. There was immediate excitement when a small pirate ship was spotted hiding in the deep blue waters under the lee of the island. The vessel was taken without difficulty, the crew throwing down their arms when their captain, an Englishman called Blair, was killed. Then, next day, the tiny sail of a felucca rigged boat hove in sight over the horizon, then veered away and frantically tried to escape when it saw the flotilla. A warning shot from Valdivia, ordered off in pursuit, soon brought her to a halt. She was manned by British deserters from Peru who, frustrated by having received no pay, had taken over their ship, renamed her Retribution, and headed north for freedom. Cochrane heard their story, inevitably sympathised with their plight and, according to the Narrative of Services, let them go.7
On 12 December 1821, Cochrane's flotilla left the Cocos Islands and headed northwards for the coast of Central America. After two days, they sighted Costa Rica and turned west to follow the contours of the low green coastline, investigating every inlet for the elusive Venganza and Prueba. But they were too late. Having spent eight months sheltering in Acapulco while Mexico's almost bloodless struggle for independence reached its successful conclusion, the two Spanish frigates had sailed in October and were now anchored comfortably in Panama.8 Brigadier Wavell's intelligence had been correct.
Unaware of all this, Cochrane continued to scour the coast for his prey. On 19 December, his ships reached the Bay of Fonseca, passed between the low grey volcanoes that flanked the entrance, and dropped anchor among the green islands and gleaming white beaches within. There, with the fires of half a dozen distant volcanoes sending lazy smoke into the cloudless sky by day and illuminating the darkness by night, Cochrane's men made repairs to the pumps, then hacked their way through the tropical vegetation to the nearest supply of fresh water. A week later they were on the move again, searching the Bay of Tehuantepec, once famous as the haunt of buccaneers and pirates, then heading west for Mexico. They reached Acapulco on 28 January 1822, to find the brig Araucano waiting off the port. Simpson was rowed across to the flagship to make his report. His visit to the town had not been a success. Entering the bay cautiously under American colours on 27 December, he had been lured ashore by friendly emissaries and arrested, while Araucano had been made to anchor harmlessly under the guns of Fort San Diego. Even with the help of General Wavell and Colonel O'Reilly who had already arrived in the San Antonio, it had taken Simpson a week to convince the authorities of his bona fides as a Chilean officer and to secure the release of the brig. The Acapulco authorities claimed that they had mistaken Simpson and his ship for a well-known pirate, but Simpson himself had noticed that he had only been released following the safe departure of two heavily loaded merchant ships from the port - one Spanish, the other American. Perhaps, knowing the enthusiasm of Cochrane's ships for prize-taking, Simpson had been detained to prevent any such incident. On the other hand, he offered an even more sinister explanation - that Wavell and O'Reilly, peeved by the altercation in Guayaquil, had warned the local authorities against Cochrane and denounced his cruise as being unauthorised and piratical.9
Acapulco was an unprepossessing town, famous once as the destination of the Manila Galleon: now offering little more than a sheltered bay, a fort, and a small whitewashed town with the usual convents and churches nestling among the tropical greenery. Expecting the worse, Cochrane led his ships cautiously into the port. But he need not have worried. There was no sign of the hostility Simpson had predicted. Indeed, the local governor immediately came on board to offer fulsome compliments, and there were rounds of parties and junketing for the visiting Chileans ashore.10 As Cochrane reported to Zenteno in the Ministry of Marine,11 he had established good relations with the authorities and had had an exchange of correspondence with Mexico's strong man, Augustin de Iturbide. But there had been no gun salutes since Mexico, which, although already self governing, was still at that stage technically ruled by the King of Spain, Ferdinand VII. It was only months later when Iturbide became Emperor and Head of State that independence became a reality.
The Chilean flotilla stayed in Acapulco for a week where it was joined by the Mercedes. Shepherd's report was inconclusive. He retailed rumours that Venganza and Prueba were indeed in Panama, but had failed to get near enough to the town to confirm them. Nevertheless, the trail was clear enough and, on 3 February 1822, Cochrane led his ships out of Acapulco and steered east. This time the voyage was less pleasant. Heading against prevailing winds from the northeast, the voyage was a tedious one, alternating between thirsty sun-baked calms, brief torrential rainstorms, and violent gales funnelling through the Isthmus of Tehuantepec and the Gulf of Panama, which tested once more the fabric of their leaky ships. Cochrane ordered Araucano away to the coast of California in search of flour and meat, and Independencia to conduct a survey in Panamanian waters, then headed southeast once more for the mainland of South America.
On 5 March 1822, Cochrane made his landfall at the palm fringed coast of the Esmeraldas to learn that Panama too had declared its independence in January, forcing Venganza and Prueba to go on their travels once more. Rumour had it that the Spanish frigates were to be found in the south.12 Cochrane followed and, on 10 March, was once more in sight of the Bay of Guayaquil. Three days later he reached the port to find his quest at an end, for there, moored quietly in the roadstead, was the elusive Venganza. But now she flew the red and white flag of Peru. Short of provisions, hunted by Cochrane's squadron, and lacking any base, the captains of the two Spanish frigates had decided to give themselves up. Suitable terms had been negotiated with San Martin's men who now ran Guayaquil, under which the Spanish officers and men were to be paid all the money owing to them; those who wanted it were to be shipped home; and a sum of $100,000 was to be paid to the Spanish Government in compensation.13 As a result, Venganza had been surrendered on the spot while Prueba had gone on to Callao.
This time, the change of regime in Guayaquil meant that Cochrane got a frosty reception. But the Vice Admiral was more annoyed at being denied the chance of making a capture. As far as he was concerned, the surrender of the two Spanish frigates was entirely due to his efforts and it was the squadron that should receive both credit and the prize money. Morally, there might have been some truth in the argument; but legally, no prize court would have agreed. All he could do was to send Captain Crosbie to demand that the Chilean flag be raised jointly with the Peruvian, and to obtain an unenforceable agreement that the ship should not be handed over to anyone without Chilean consent.14
On 27 March 1822, Cochrane left the Guaya River bound for Callao. But bad luck continued to dog him.
No sooner had he reached the entrance to the bay than an open boat filled with men was sighted frantically signalling. On board was Captain Robert Simpson. Off the coast of Mexico, the crew of the Araucano had mutinied, put Simpson and a group of loyal hands in the launch, and sailed off into the blue on a piratical cruise! A fortnight later there was another shock. Cochrane put into Gumbacho to repair the Valdivia's pumps and to careen the leaking frigate. To his annoyance, the local governor not only refused to provide supplies but brandished an order from San Martin that prohibited the Peruvian authorities from giving any assistance to the Chilean squadron at all. With his temper even shorter than usual, Cochrane headed for a showdown in Callao.
The situation in Peru had deteriorated in the six months since Cochrane had sailed north. San Martin and his advisers had been busy establishing the principles of the new Peruvian state. On paper at any rate, they had abolished torture and censorship; introduced freedom of the press and habeas corpus; and decreed the abolition of slavery and of the second-class status of the local Indians. On the other hand, the structure of the new state was - to the satisfaction of European observers like Sir Thomas Hardy - firmly centralised and monarchical.15 Members of the local aristocracy were permitted to retain their Spanish titles of nobility, and an Order of the Sun was established to reinforce the idea of social hierarchy as much as to symbolise Peru's nationhood. The installation ceremony was attended by Hardy for Britain and Prevost for the United States, and four Englishmen were appointed as grandees of the Order - James Paroissien, Colonel William Miller, Captain Robert Forster and Captain George Guise. But for his estrangement from San Martin, Lord Cochrane would also have been appointed to its most senior ranks.
Discontent, however, was rumbling below the surface. The Protector found himself accused of arrogance and monarchical ambitions. In so far as he was still convinced that a monarchy was the most suitable form of government for the newly independent South American states, the accusation was right. But the self-effacing San Martin had no ambitions for himself. He was convinced that a European Royal should be offered the crown of Peru and indeed, in December 1821, he dispatched a two-man delegation to find one! The men entrusted with this responsibility were James Paroissien and Garcia del Rio. But hostility to San Martin had a deeper basis. The conservative Peruvian aristocracy disliked his social reforms, and indigenous patriots - like the troublesome José de Riva Aguero and the emollient Marquis of Torre Tagle - were jealous and hostile to the fact that the Protector and his closest advisers were foreigners from the Argentine. Likewise, San Martin's military prestige had suffered a severe blow as a result of his reluctance to take on and destroy the Royalist army, which was still lurking in the mountains. It did not take long for the fruits of this policy to turn sour.
In early 1822, General Canterac, the commander of the main Spanish army whose forces were now swollen by unpaid and disillusioned patriot soldiers, advanced in strength from the mountains, put to flight a whole division of San Martin's army near Pisco and threatened the southern coast. Thus, when Cochrane arrived in Callao, he found a deteriorating situation. Led by Blanco Encalada on secondment from Chile, Peru's new navy was busy blockading the affected area, its handful of frigates, brigs and schooners all commanded by officers who had previously served under Cochrane. San Martin's ministers had written a blistering complaint against the Vice Admiral's conduct only months before, but its members were now superficially friendly and congratulatory. Indeed, the situation was so grave that they urged him to take command of the Peruvian Navy, even offering to accommodate him in the house of the Marquis of Torre Tagle -now a member of the government - if he cared to live ashore. But the underlying tension could not be disguised. Blanco Encalada in the flagship Limena scrupulously obeyed his instructions to give Cochrane no official recognition (even though, at the personal level, he was all cordiality) and the prize Prueba was packed with guns and 300 men to make sure there was no repetition of the Esmeralda incident.16 Cochrane reciprocated in kind -refusing to go ashore, lying with his guns loaded, and even seizing the Montezuma, which suddenly appeared under Peruvian rather than Chilean colours, and turning Lieutenant Robinson and her officers ashore. This caused further annoyance since O'Higgins had given the schooner to San Martin as a personal present. His visit to Callao lasted for two tense weeks. Then Cochrane set sail and headed back to Chile.
Chapter 14
THE FINAL CURTAIN
When the citizens of Valparaiso woke on the morning of 2 June 1822 and looked out to sea, there were two new ships rolling at their anchors in the rain-swept waters of the bay. During the night the O'Higgins and Valdivia had returned. The news that Cochrane was back spread like wildfire. The town was soon festooned with flags and the streets filled with excited crowds eager to welcome Lord Cochrane and his men after their triumphs in the liberation of Peru. The Chilean Government was no less enthusiastic and wholeheartedly joined in the celebrations. Zenteno had been moved to become Governor of Valparaiso so it was Joaquin de Echeverria, his successor as Minister of Marine, who issued the message of welcome. It began:
The arrival of Your Excellency in the city of Valparaiso with the squadron under your command has given the greatest of pleasure to the Supreme Director; and in those feelings of gratitude which the glory you have acquired in the late protracted campaign has excited you will find the proof of that high consideration which your heroic services so justly deserve.1
A second proclamation announced that:
His Excellency the Supreme Director, being desirous of making a public demonstration of the high services that the squadron has rendered to the nation, has resolved that a medal be struck for the officers and men of the squadron with an inscription expressive of the national gratitude towards the worthy supporters of its maritime power.2
Cochrane and his men deserved no less for their achievements and victories in the war. They had done exactly what had been required of them: they had seized command of the sea, driven the Spanish Navy from the Pacific and ensured the independence of Chile and Peru. Captain Basil Hall summarised the situation exactly when, in his memoirs, he praised Cochrane's 'renown, his matchless intrepidity and his inexhaustible resources in war' and continued, 'under his hand all things prospered and the confined naval resources of the country were turned to the greatest account with a dexterity and professional skill which astonished everyone.'3
One witness to the celebrations that greeted Cochrane's return to Valparaiso was Mrs Maria Graham, the 37-year-old widow of the captain of the British frigate Doris. Her husband, Thomas Graham, had died two months before coming round Cape Horn and Maria had decided to stay on in Chile to recover her spirits. A star pupil at the Academy run by the Misses Bright in Drayton, Berkshire, Maria had emerged with a superior education for a lady and had mixed freely in literary circles in Edinburgh and London. She was smaller in stature and slighter in build than is suggested by the somewhat glamorised picture by Sir Thomas Lawrence in the National Portrait Gallery, but her delicate health and recurrent consumption were more than offset by a determined spirit and an insatiable curiosity.
Indeed, Maria was an inveterate traveller and was already a writer of some note. Based on previous residences abroad with her husband, she had already produced a Journal of a Residence in India, and Three Months Passed in the Mountains of Rome during the Year 1819. Now she was keeping a journal of her travels in South America, which was to result in two fascinating and colourful volumes describing the politics, manners and social life of Chile and Brazil. They were also to provide detailed but, alas, prejudiced accounts of Cochrane's adventures in both countries.
Cochrane's first act on arriving in Valparaiso was to go on board the Rising Star. The object of considerable curiosity, the steamer had reached the port at last on 27 April, under the command of a Captain Scott and carrying his brother, Major William Cochrane and his long-time secretary, William Jackson. For Cochrane, the successful arrival of the first vessel capable of steam power seen
in the Pacific was a historic event and a vindication of his faith in mechanical devices. Also on board were a number of smaller steam engines that Cochrane hoped to sell and see installed in other suitable vessels. On 9 and 10 June, the Rising Star's machinery was put through its paces with Chilean officials on board. Cochrane was delighted with its performance and informed Echeverria that the vessel had 'lived up to his most sanguine expectations'.4
Cochrane's next task was less agreeable. It was to go ashore and confront his business agent, William Hoseason. It was not a happy meeting. Hoseason had been inefficient in handling his financial affairs and Cochrane soon found that his lack of discretion had made them the talk of the town.5 The admiral's finances were, as usual, in a sorry state with his total income up to June 1822 standing at $63,324, against outgoings of $95,763 - one-third of which were investments in the Quintero estate and beef business.6 Fortunately Cochrane was owed $25,000 in pay and prize money - a total of £5000. He also claimed part of the $120,000 (£24,000) prize money for the Esmeralda, typically using the system to the full to maximise his share. Under existing practice, he was entitled to receive one-eighth of the $60,000 retained by the government, and another eighth of the $60,000 shared among the captors - a total of $15,000 (£3000). But as an act of generosity to the seamen, it had been agreed to give a double share to anyone wounded in the attack. Cochrane - who had himself been slightly injured - promptly doubled his demand to two-eighths of the captor's half, thus increasing his total personal payment to $22,500 (£4500) and reducing the amount left to be shared among the other officers and men to $45,000 (£9000)!7 Unfortunately, Hoseason seems to have forgotten to tell Cochrane that the Chilean letter of credit issued for the Esmeralda prize money had been rejected by the Peruvians and was in his possession. Nevertheless, Cochrane had returned from Peru with $31,595 (£6320) from the local sale of prizes; so was able to lodge $4000 (£800) with Hoseason in cash and gold and to send $16,997 (£3400) back to England - $8500 (£1700) on board HMS Alacrity on 8 July, and another $8497 (£1660) on HMS Doris on 12 October.8
