Morning of Fire

by Scott Ridley

  Colnett slapped the table with his palms and shouted, “Goddamn Spaniard,” and then accused Martinez of breaching his trust and “that word and honour which he had pledged to me.” He said Martinez would have to fire on him to stop him from sailing, and then he placed his hand on his sword. “I now saw, but too late, the duplicity of this Spaniard,” Colnett said.

  Martinez rose in anger and went out. “I was conversing with the interpreter on the subject,” Colnett wrote, “when having my back towards the cabin door, I by chance cast my eyes on a looking-glass, and saw an armed party rushing in behind me. I instantly put my hand to my hanger, but before I had time to place myself in a posture of defense, a violent blow brought me to the ground. I was then ordered into the stocks …”

  Up on deck, Martinez sent del Castillo to Kendrick with a message. The Columbia’s bow guns were manned, and so were the Princesa’s stern chasers. Colnett’s crew looked with astonishment at cannons facing them on each side. This was the moment that would tell whether Colnett had prepared his crew for a conflict. It quickly passed; the Portuguese sailors and Chinese laborers wanted no part of the fight. Outnumbered and outgunned, the dozen British officers and sailors also yielded. Looking at Kendrick’s guns loaded with shot, Argonaut pilot Robert Duffin wrote, “It was impossible to make any resistance against such superiority; indeed it would have been insanity to have attempted it.” The show of force by Martinez had prevented bloodshed.

  Spanish soldiers climbed on board, seized the ship, and imprisoned Colnett’s men in the irons made by Kendrick’s blacksmith, Jonathan Barber. The Chinese laborers and most of the Portuguese sailors were taken ashore to the garrison, and the ten English sailors were confined in their forward quarters on the Argonaut. Colnett was beside himself. Martinez ordered that he be kept in stocks, but apparently Haswell intervened. “[A]n Officer that had been in the British navy, but at this time belong’d to the American ship, Advis’d them not to put me in the Stocks,” Colnett later recalled. He was held for a time on the Princesa, raving that he would be hanged. He seemed to be going mad. The Spanish locked him in a cabin. Through the dusk and into the night he could be heard shouting that he would be executed and that two British war frigates would arrive to deliver a reckoning.

  KENDRICK SAW THIS AS a very serious turn of events. Given the opposing views of Britain and Spain, the conflict might have seemed inevitable. And he most likely saw his own part in it as unavoidable. It wasn’t possible for Martinez to ignore the direct challenge to his orders. Similarly, the Americans could not let the British take this sound or any other on the coast. Given the aggressive intent of Colnett’s expedition, provocation of the Spanish must certainly have been among the possibilities John Meares and Richard Etches contemplated. Given that the South Sea Company license granted them approval to trade “in all the territories that are looked upon as belonging to the Crown of Spain,” perhaps it was a confrontation the London merchants were seeking. The ramifications of the action were huge and, unlike the taking of the Iphigenia, could not be undone. The Columbia‘s furrier, John Treat, noted an opinion among the Americans that “this will undoubtedly occasion Some altercation between the two Powers, particularly Should She [the Argonaut] be condemned at St. Blaz …”

  AS TROUBLING AND MONUMENTAL AS the taking of the Argonaut appeared, Kendrick would not let it stand in the way of his own longpending plans.

  At dawn the small harbor erupted in a volley of cannon fire. The booming shook everyone from sleep, or from the breakfast of gruel they had settled down to. Just thirty yards from the Argonaut, smoke from the blasts rose above the decks of the Columbia and Lady Washington. The roaring went on for more than a minute as the guns resounded and smoke drifted across the Argonaut. It was July 4, and Kendrick was opening the day with a salute to his new nation. Even if it was seen as rubbing in the humiliation of the British captives, he wanted to match the celebration Martinez had held a week earlier.

  Kendrick hosted a feast aboard the Columbia, attempting to lighten the personal rancor by inviting not only Martinez and his officers and padres, but also the captured officers and men of the Argonaut and Northwest American. Throughout the day, the American ships fired volleys and the San Carlos and Fort San Miguel responded. Martinez and Kendrick proposed toasts to the Congress of the Confederated States and to His Catholic Majesty Carlos III. Both commanders were badly out of touch in this remote part of the world. King Carlos III had died seven months earlier. In the United States, the members of Congress were now part of a federal government. And in April, just two months before, George Washington had been inaugurated as the nation’s first president.

  THE MOWACHAHT CAME TO WATCH the booming celebration from the edges of the woods and the shore. Although a few natives continued trading with the ships, a strong chill had fallen over the relations between the Spanish and the native people since the Mowachaht had left the cove, made obvious by the fact that Maquinna was not here.

  Colnett was absent as well. According to Robert Duffin, madness ran in Colnett’s family. By Colnett’s own account, he contracted a fever that threw him into delirium. He raved uncontrollably, and the Spaniards deemed him insane. In the morning he came on deck ostensibly to urinate over the side, but when the chance came, he climbed the ship’s rail and had to be prevented from jumping into the harbor.

  A few days later, in the early morning, Colnett broke his small cabin window, crawled out, and plunged into the harbor in an attempt to drown himself. When rescuers reached him, he fought them, and they had to pull him from the water by his hair.

  THE STEADY TENSION SURROUNDING COLNETT and the Argonaut was broken on July 5, when the Santa Gertrudis returned from her two-week exploration of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It was an exciting and welcome distraction for Martinez. José Maria Navaez, who commanded the schooner, confirmed finding the entrance to the strait. Following Martinez’s instructions, he said they had sighted the “inland sea” and traded for seventy-five furs, but sailed no farther than the American sloop had ventured in the spring. A thorough survey would require at least two ships, ample provisions, and a force of armed men.

  Martinez was elated at the discovery. That same day he wrote one of the longest entries in his diary. “There is ground for believing that this strait forms a connection with the Mississippi River in an ESE direction, although according to reports, it divides into two arms,” one of which he believed “communicates with the strait of Admiral Fonte” in the north. After speculating on various inlets, he wrote, “From all this, it is evident that up to this expedition, neither Spaniards nor foreigners have been able to give a definite account of the above mentioned straits, although most so far have denied its existence. While in some accounts I have read that there never were any such persons as Admiral Fonte or Juan de Fuca, I have been disposed to think that these navigators did make their discovery, but the observations taken with their instruments were not true and the longitudes of the places mentioned by them were in fact much less.” He noted that James Cook believed the straits to be imaginary, and accurately observed that Cook did not approach the land in the regions where the straits had been found. From this, he concluded, “The English have maintained two opinions on this question. One denies the existence of the passage from Hudson Bay to this gulf, and the other concedes that there is such a strait.” Following the Santa Gertrudis exploration, Martinez wrote that he was “of the belief that the existence of these two straits is certain. The mouth of Juan de Fuca has been reconnoitered by me, and that of Fonte is assured from the reports that have been given of it, and finally because I saw one of its mouths in the year ‘74, to which entrance I gave the name of Don Juan Perez.” Martinez glowed with triumph: “If Captain Cook had lived until the present time there is no doubt that he would be set right as to the existence of these straits, as in a short time it will be demonstrated to all Europe. Even he who circumnavigates the globe does not see all lands.” Martinez believed that these straits, offering entry to t
he Northwest Passage and the interior of North America, provided all the more reason to follow his plan and stop the British, the Russians, and the Americans.

  JOHN KENDRICK LEARNED FROM DAVIS COOLIDGE what the Santa Gertrudis had seen, and he knew from Gray’s cruise to the north the inlet where de Fontes’s straits might lie. These observations seemed to confirm waterways Kendrick had likely seen on maps published more than a decade earlier. He had remained in the background and been careful to assist Martinez for the past two months, and he would continue to do so for a short time longer now. However, he also wanted to pursue these straits for American claims.

  Over the next several days, Martinez took a detailed inventory of the Argonaut‘s cargo, expropriating and noting stores needed for his own men. He also seized armaments and equipment intended for Colnett’s Fort. Among his personal effects, Colnett would later claim that he lost his “sextant, charts, and drawing paper and all … his nautical instruments … [and a] time piece of Mr. Arnold’s making,” which Martinez apparently gave to Kendrick. Colnett was overcome with despair and kept asking who his executioner would be. Command of the Argonaut was turned over to Robert Duffin, who watched bitterly as the Spanish took his stores and ordered his men into forced labor. In secret, Duffin began to write a series of letters to John Meares on events as they unfolded.

  With the exception of Colnett, who had to be kept under constant watch, the Americans said that Martinez treated the Argonaut’s officers and crew liberally, letting them go ashore during the day and only locking them up at night. In the British version of events, their time ashore was spent in work parties, and they were beaten if they didn’t comply. Apparently, however, they had enough freedom to meet their Mowachaht friends and complain about Spanish treachery. They warned the Mowachaht that Spanish control of the harbor would soon close down all trade and the tribe would suffer under Martinez.

  At their new summer village at Coaglee, three miles up the sound, Maquinna and his chiefs pondered what to do. The Mowachaht chief had gone back to the harbor once, to complain that Martinez’s men were stealing longhouse boards left at Yuquot for construction of the Spanish buildings. Martinez did nothing in response. Since the Mowachaht had left Yuquot, Martinez had become more distrustful and suspicious of them. The padres found no willing converts to Catholicism; men and boys insisted on going about naked; the chiefs still worshipped idols and practiced polygamy. Worse, rumors continued to circulate about Maquinna eating captured children. Kendrick assisted Martinez in purchasing slave children brought to him by the Mowachaht. Martinez then passed the children to the friars, who renamed them and sought to bring them into their faith.

  What Martinez first saw as stubborn, savage behavior now grew to a fear that Callicum and Maquinna were plotting against him. He was most likely aware that Mowachaht canoes had carried a warning out to Colnett’s ship as it lay offshore in the fog. He had also heard that

  Callicum met with Colnett at dawn before the Argonaut was captured. Colnett had allegedly told Callicum that Martinez “had come to be the master of this land, and that he would expel us all from this port.” Martinez wanted a stop to the intrigue and plotting. With the Russians coming soon, his authority had to be absolute and the port secure. He had no more time or patience for a policy of seduction for Maquinna and Callicum. His suspicions were about to trigger a deep and deadly schism.

  LATE IN THE AFTERNOON ON SUNDAY, JULY 12, the watch at San Miguel reported sighting a ship anchored far offshore. It was not the Russians. Through their glass the soldiers saw that she had lowered a boat, which was making for the shore with several men. The Spanish dispatched two armed launches to intercept it. Once outside the sound, the men in the launches saw that the vessel was the Princess Royal, which had departed ten days earlier. In violation of Martinez’s warnings, Thomas Hudson had taken the ship to Clayoquot to trade for furs, and now brought her back toward Nootka. Perhaps from natives traveling to Clayoquot he had heard that the Argonaut was captured and Colnett had fallen into a dire situation.

  The launches approached the boat two miles from the Princess Royal. Hudson was aboard with five men. He was disguised as a seaman and armed with a pistol. Reaching the boat, the Spanish officers recognized Hudson and asked him to step into the launch. In the midst of a struggle, his pistol was seized and discharged. However, the boat raced away from the launches and headed toward the sound. As it came into the cove and approached the Argonaut, Martinez appeared on deck and ordered the men in the boat to be captured. Martinez believed that Hudson had returned to gather information from Colnett on the capture of the ship, which he would report back to Macao. From papers found on the Argonaut, Martinez now knew that Hudson had misled him. The Princess Royal, as well as the Northwest American and Iphigenia, were all owned by the London company and were part of Colnett’s mission to take possession of the coast.

  When Hudson was delivered to the commandant, Martinez asked him to write a letter to his crew to bring the Princess Royal in. He refused, and Martinez told him that “if his crew offered any resistance,” he would be “hanged from the yard arm as a warning to the other prisoners in the port.” Hudson then wrote to his first mate: “Mr Jaques, As I am a Prisoner and Captain Colnett also I would not have you make any resistance but comply with everything relative to the fortune of War.” In a postscript he added: “don’t make any resistance but comply with this in every respect otherwise things of worse consequence may Commence.”

  An armed Spanish launch was sent out to the Princess Royal in the dark. Martinez cautioned the launch’s pilot “to use all care, since the vessel’s guns were loaded, and the crew under orders to fire.” Martinez wrote, “I commanded him that if they did, he should board and seize her by force, putting the crew to the sword without quarter.” Colnett said later that Martinez already had a “Yard Rope rove to hang Captain Hudson …” Although the Spanish pilot commanding the launch did not have a good command of English, the message to surrender got through. The sloop and the ten men aboard were taken without resistance at three in the morning and brought into Friendly Cove.

  AT MAQUINNA’S VILLAGE OF COAGLEE, word arrived that another ship had been seized and its crew made captive. Callicum, who was the tribe’s designated ambassador to the foreigners, had had enough of Martinez’s belligerence; the Spaniards had gone too far. The Mowachaht people had been pushed from their traditional home and spiritual center. Now, just as they had been warned by the British prisoners, their ability to trade was being cut off. They were losing their wealth and prestige. Something had to be done.

  In the late morning, Callicum arrived at Friendly Cove and paddled out to the San Carlos in a canoe with his wife and child. He complained to the pilot, Lopez de Haro, who still held his own grudges against Martinez. Lopez de Haro tried to placate the chief with gifts. As he paddled back across the cove, Callicum saw Martinez on the Princess Royal. “Martinez Pisec! Martinez Capsil!” he shouted at him, calling the Spanish commander a robber and thug. He charged that Martinez was not content to take the vessels that came into the cove, but had to rob those outside the sound as well. Prisoners on the sloop interpreted for Martinez what the chief said. Martinez called to Callicum, but he continued to chastise the Spanish commander. Everyone in the cove stopped to watch what was taking place.

  When the prisoners began laughing, Martinez snapped. He grabbed a musket from one of his men guarding the sloop and fired it at Callicum, but missed. “I took another and fired it, killing him,” Martinez later wrote. The ball passed through Callicum’s chest, knocking him into the water. Watching his body quickly sink, his wife and child became hysterical, screaming until someone came out to help them. Callicum had been unarmed. Everyone was stunned, but Martinez regarded the act as justifiable. He rationalized that the chief was conspiring with the English. He was making an example, as he would have made of Hudson. He would accept no insult to his honor, or plotting against Spanish authority in this harbor.

  KENDRICK WAS HELPLESS T
O DO ANYTHING, and it was probably not in his interest to intervene. On one side, his reputation and the American relationship with the Mowachaht were well established. And on the other, his dealings with Martinez had grown very entwined. Given Martinez’s increasingly hostile temperament, and the potential of being drawn into the Spanish showdown with the Russians, it was time to leave port and continue with the expedition, but Kendrick didn’t want to close the door on Fort Washington.

  Kendrick told Martinez that he had not completed his mission and asked to return the following year after stopping at the Sandwich Islands and China. Martinez said yes, if he carried “an official Spanish passport.” Martinez asked Kendrick to take the prisoners of the Northwest American to Macao on the Columbia and offered ninety-six sea otter skins to cover their expenses. Kendrick agreed. Martinez also asked Kendrick to sell 137 prime otter skins for him at Macao and to “entrust the proceeds to the Spanish ambassador at Boston to the credit of the crown.” As an additional condition of Kendrick’s return to the coast, Martinez requested that he “buy on my account in Macao two altar ornaments for the mass, and seven pair of boots for the officers of the San Carlos and of my own ship.”

  A personal connection between them emerged as well. In what must have been a difficult surprise, John Kendrick, Jr., now twenty years old, well versed in navigation, and fluent in the Mowachaht language, announced that he had decided to remain at Nootka and join the Spanish navy. There is little record of a discussion between father and son, but in a touching scene noted by one of the Spanish officers, the weathered American commander stood with tears streaming down his cheeks as he told his son that life held no greater fortune than to be a man of goodwill and to faithfully follow that path.