Caribbean (24 page)

Within minutes of anchoring the
Mariposa
, he was in a small boat heading for the fort, and even as he climbed its stone stairway he was giving orders: “These guns to be kept permanently aimed at the entrance to the harbor, in case Hawkins or Drake tries to slip in. And to be manned around the clock, always primed.” When he toured the land installations, almost a mile of trenches and protective structures for the guns hidden there, he gave similar orders, and later, when he inspected the three companies stationed permanently in Vera Cruz, he handed them new assignments: “This company to be ready at a moment’s notice to run to protect the guns along the shore, this company
to rush to the fort, this one to defend the entrance to Vera Cruz itself.”

Ledesma went to bed that first night satisfied that as commander in chief of the defenses of San Juan de Ulúa, he had done everything possible to protect the anchorage, so that when he received the surprising news that another Spanish fleet would soon be arriving from Nombre de Dios, a rich depot on the Caribbean side of the Isthmus of Panamá, bringing additional treasure from Peru, he was elated. “When it arrives, this will be the richest port in the world,” he boasted to his subordinates, “and the best defended.”

Next day a battered Spanish ship limped into port with news of a horrendous hurricane to the south. Its winds had been so violent that everyone assumed that if Hawkins and his English ships had tried to breast the same storm, they must have either sunk or fled home to England badly damaged.

Ledesma was therefore appalled when, two days later, a lookout shouted: “Ships approaching!” and the first vessel into the harbor turned out to be the famous
Jesus of Lübeck
, except that one of her identifying castles was missing. There she came, a misshapen thing though still a formidable warship, followed by the stout
Minion
and five smaller vessels. The invading English ships had so intermingled themselves with the Spanish that the shore batteries dared not fire for fear of sinking their own vessels, and Ledesma’s own
Mariposa
was overawed by the powerful guns of the
Jesus of Lübeck
, which pointed directly at it from a distance of yards. Hawkins and Drake, without having had to fire a shot, had occupied the harbor of San Juan de Ulúa, and there was nothing Ledesma could do to eject them.

When he looked out from his headquarters in the fort, Don Diego saw that infuriating
Jesus
riding arrogantly in his anchorage with Drake’s insolent
Judith
alongside, and his choler rose to a point that nearly disrupted his reason and certainly obliterated many of the normal compunctions dictated by the sense of honor which is supposed to govern gentlemen in battle. His consuming motivation became “Death to the English invaders,” but which tactics would produce the destruction, he did not know, so he played for time until possibilities became clearer.

First, displaying his unquestioned courage, he had himself rowed out to the
Jesus
and climbed onto the deck as she rolled gently despite the fact that she was lacking her towering aft castle. Escorted with due ceremony to Hawkins’ cabin, he found the great English captain
dressed as if about to attend a court levee: Italian pumps with silver buckles, breeches of finest gray linen, silken shirt with ruffles, heavily brocaded jacket, kerchief also of silk, and cockaded hat.

“We face each other at last,” Hawkins said graciously, indicating where his guest might find comfort in a padded chair.

Ledesma wanted to know why the Englishmen had dared to enter into a harbor of such importance to Spain, and Hawkins replied frankly: “Storms drove us here.”

“A greater storm will drive you away,” Ledesma said, and then, with either exquisite guile or aimless stupidity, he added: “Because very shortly the powerful plate fleet of twenty armed vessels will arrive from Spain to carry Mexico’s silver back to Sevilla. They will destroy you in minutes … if you are still here.”

“English ships can carry silver as easily as Spanish,” Hawkins said, to which Ledesma replied sneeringly: “If they can get their hands on it.”

The verbal sparring was interrupted by the unannounced appearance of Hawkins’ first assistant, a short, stocky mariner with a bullet head and a close-cropped beard. As soon as Don Diego saw him he rose from his chair, pointed a finger, and cried, almost with delight at meeting a man so famous: “You’re Drake!” and for the first time the two duelists stood face to face, nodding like gentlemen, each waiting for the other to speak.

Drake broke the silence: “Your people stole forty slaves from me at Río Hacha,” at which Ledesma smiled: “But we gave you the free wine at Cartagena … when you couldn’t get into our city.”

Without revealing his anger at this insult, Drake said: “That time we didn’t try to force our way in. But next time, beware.”

Hawkins broke the tension by saying gently: “That was good wine you let us have at Cartagena, Don Diego, but you must remember that we did pay for it,” and at last the three broke into the comradely laughter which often characterized seafaring men. Encouraged by this, Ledesma asked, sailor to sailor: “How did you lose your aft castle?” and Hawkins replied honestly: “These damned top-heavy ships do toss about in a hurricane. We had to chop down the superstructure to keep from capsizing.” He added: “When I’m in charge of building ships, no more castles, fore or aft. Low and swift.” He paused: “Your
Mariposa
out there is more to my taste,” and Ledesma said: “It was Dutch. They know how to build. Your
Jesus
is German. All heavy show.”

Now Hawkins laid down the reasonable terms under which he and Drake would leave Ulúa: “I have fifty remaining slaves to sell, and you must buy. Then you must sell us at decent prices adequate food for my seven ships for their return to England. Finally, you must instruct your gunners up in the fort to allow us free passage out of here, and all will be well.”

Gently, almost in a whisper, Ledesma said sardonically: “And the scores of my gunners along the shore where you can’t see them. I suppose I must instruct them, too.” Then he said more firmly: “As my men surely told you at Río Hacha and as I did at Cartagena, my king has forbidden trade with Englishmen. What food we have we require for the incoming plate fleet. And you must realize, Captain Hawkins, no matter how brave you are, our gunners are never going to allow your
Jesus
to leave this harbor. You say she’s the property of your queen. Well, Elizabeth will never see her again.”

In the silence that followed these words the three seamen bowed, and Ledesma left the ship.

When Ledesma returned to his fort he began to lay his traps. Secretly he moved a hundred shore-based soldiers into positions overlooking the anchored ships, and when they were in place, he imported another hundred to the island to strengthen the fort. He selected one of the big Spanish ships already in the harbor, and instructed her captain: “Convert her secretly into a fire ship,” and when the man asked in amazement: “You mean we set her ablaze?” Ledesma said coldly: “We shall, and she must be so filled with inflammables that she will burn herself to the waterline within the hour.” He then held long sessions with his two nephews and the vice-regent, during which they laid the most careful plans for assaulting the English vessels when the time came, so that at the end of the plotting each young captain knew the role he must play in destroying the English.

But just as the opening moves of this well-devised plan were to begin, a fleet of thirteen huge Spanish ships arrived from the south, bringing not only a vast cargo of gold and silver from the depot at Nombre de Dios, but also the incoming viceroy of Mexico, Don Martín Enriquez, a devious man always ready to take charge of any complex predicament, which was why the king had appointed him to Mexico where bold talents were needed.

Enriquez now found himself in a most delicate situation. Three fleets contested the occupancy of Ulúa: fifteen Spanish warships, including
Admiral Ledesma’s inside, thirteen other big Spanish ships outside, and John Hawkins’ seven English ships blocking entrance and exit. Cool nerves were required in this impasse, and the three commanders had them.

Hawkins initiated maneuvers by sending his longboat to Viceroy Enriquez’s ship with a formal invitation to dinner, and when the Spaniard entered the Englishman’s cabin, he was astounded to find Hawkins dressed in his customary well-tailored costume. The Englishman’s words were blunt: “Honorable Viceroy, instruct Admiral Ledesma’s men ashore to meet the demands I made, and I’ll depart in peace … no guns fired.”

“Now, isn’t that ridiculous!” the viceroy replied, almost contemptuously. “You’re not in a position to demand anything.” Hawkins did not flinch. Instead, he pointed out: “Excellency, your thirteen ships carry treasure and many lives, none so precious as your own but still of some value to King Philip. Your ships lie out there unprotected. If a storm like the one which tore away my aft castle blows up, your ships will be smashed to pieces on those rocks we can see even from here. You know you’re in mortal peril and must do something.”

Calmly the viceroy began to count aloud: “One, two, three …” When he reached sixty, he shifted his chair and continued: “Sixty-one, sixty-two …” on to a hundred. Then he turned again till he faced the spit of land, and the count came to more than a hundred and thirty. “That’s how many Spanish guns are pointed at you right now, Admiral Hawkins.”

“It’s Captain Hawkins. I shall resist the guns, most of which are too far away to reach me, block this harbor entrance, and watch your ships break to pieces in the coming storm.”

Since it was clear that no agreement of any kind could be reached that day, the viceroy returned in anger to his fleet, but in the late afternoon he had his boatmen quietly slip him ashore to the fort for a meeting with Admiral Ledesma, and the plan he proposed so shocked Don Diego that he listened aghast and for some moments did not respond: “I have waiting outside a young officer of extraordinary bravery and skill. You will insert him in the negotiating party you are sending to parley with Hawkins, and as the meeting progresses …”

He brought his young assassin into the room, and the rogue showed Ledesma how a poisoned stiletto had been hidden in the left sleeve of his jacket in a way that no one could detect. With a flash of
his right hand, so swift that Ledesma could not follow, the stiletto was out and poised at Don Diego’s heart. “Hawkins is dead,” the murderer cried.

“The other members of the team will protect our man,” Enriquez explained, “and our little boats will dart in to rescue all when they leap into the bay.”

For a long breathless moment Don Diego reflected on the plot, and he recalled that only a few days past in this very room he had said in anger: “I will adopt any stratagem to destroy that pirate.” But now he was being presented with one that his sense of family honor would not allow him to consider, and he felt he must, as a gentleman, reject it: “Assassination? Under a flag of truce? A Ledesma flag of truce? Oh no!”

The viceroy, without raising his voice, pointed out in silky tones: “The king has sent me to protect his empire, his gold and his ships. Can you imagine what he might do if I had to tell him that you prevented me from ending the life of that pirate Hawkins?” Then, with the harsh cry “Seize him!” he directed his men to pinion Ledesma: “Shoot him if he tries to hinder us in any way.”

Immobilized in a corner, Ledesma heard the young assassin ask: “If I have but one try, which of the two pirates?” and after some hesitation the viceroy said: “Drake’s our perpetual enemy. Hawkins we know how to deal with,” and the killer said with confidence: “Drake it shall be.”

Ledesma, straining against his captors, cried: “No! Let us deal with him decently … in battle,” but he was silenced.

The young officer, posing as a member of the admiral’s negotiating team, was rowed to the
Jesus of Lübeck
under a white flag, and participated in the discussions with Hawkins. The latter, always alert, had noticed that when the young stranger was introduced to him, the arrogant fellow paid no attention, but when Drake joined the company, the Spaniard became all attention and continued to hover near him. Thus it was that when the young man with a cry of
“Muerte!”
whipped out his poisoned stiletto and leaped at Drake, Hawkins was prepared to grab his arm before he could strike.

Ashen-faced, Hawkins now spoke: “They came to us under a flag of truce. Return them so, to the perpetual shame of those who sent them.”

With the sham formalities ended, the three fleet leaders, Ledesma, Enriquez and Hawkins, realized that this was now a duel to the death.
No more negotiations, no more naval pleasantries conducted by supposed gentlemen, only heavy gunfire and ships maneuvering for their lives. On the afternoon of 23 September 1568, Ledesma and Enriquez unleashed a furious barrage which sank three English ships—
Grace of God, Swallow, Angel
—while Ledesma’s nephews braved English muskets to board the fire ship, set it ablaze, and hoist the sails so that it bore down directly on the
Jesus of Lübeck
. Blazing like an angry volcano, the ship crashed into the
Jesus
and within a minute set ablaze the dried timbers of the stunted castle.

Soon the great vessel, proud flagship of the queen’s navy and her personal possession, was ablaze in all quarters and burning uncontrollably toward the waterline. Still she might have fought her way out of the harbor had not Admiral Ledesma, once more in command of the
Mariposa
, dogged the burning
Jesus
and poured in a shattering broadside which penetrated the waterline. With no chance of saving his flagship, Hawkins shouted to his loyal sailors:
“Sauve-que-peut!”
the time-honored French cry “Save yourself if you can.” Over the side of the historic ship piled the sailors, dropping onto the deck of an English ship maneuvering alongside. The last sailor leaping down shouted: “Captain Hawkins! Jump!” and as the rescue ship drew away, Hawkins made a wild leap from the
Jesus
, barely reaching the deck of the other ship, from which he would have slipped into the water had not alert seamen seen his plight and grabbed him just as he started to fall backward.