The Wager Disaster Read online

  Title Page

  The Wager Disaster

  Mayhem, Mutiny and Murder in the South Seas

  Rear Admiral C.H. Layman, CB, DSO, LVO

  Uniform Press Ltd

  66 Charlotte Street

  London, W1T 4QE

  www.uniformpress.co.uk

  Digital edition converted and distributed by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  ISBN 13: 978-1910065501

  Published by Uniform Press Ltd 2015

  Text Copyright © C.H. Layman 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright holder and the above publisher of this book.

  Book design by Felicity Price-Smith

  For Amanda, with my love

  Editor’s Note

  I have modernised punctuation, spelling, place names where I can, and eighteenth-century abbreviations such as ‘tis, ‘em, look’d etc. In a very few places I have corrected mistakes or changed an unimportant word in the interest of continuity. Of the several different spellings of the First Lieutenant’s name I have settled on Baynes. The long-boat after lengthening was sometimes called a schooner. The term vessel was also used. I have retained long-boat for simplicity and clarity, and standardised the names of the other boats as in Appendix A.

  Foreword

  by H.R.H. The Duke of Edinburgh

  It does not often happen that a sub-plot can be said to have overshadowed the main drama. Yet this remarkable story of the fate of the supply ship for Commodore Anson’s expedition into the Pacific in 1741 is far more gripping than the record of his more conventional activities in the war against Spain in that part of the world. In most accounts of the expedition, the only mention of HMS Wager is that she was the supply ship for the small squadron and that she was wrecked in a gale on the coast of southern Chile.

  But thereby hangs this tale – and what a tale! Told largely in the words of the participants themselves, it reveals a drama of misfortune, unimaginable hardship, super-human endurance, mixed with extremes in human behaviour, both heroic and despicable, and a small boat journey of epic proportions.

  Only 36 of the original crew of about 140 made it back to Britain, but one good thing came out of it in the end. Fortunately, Commodore Anson, who later became an Admiral and served on the Board of Admiralty until his death, took the trouble to learn as much as he could about the story, and to apply the lessons of this tragic drama to the improvement and modernisation of the Royal Navy as a whole.

  Dramatis Personae

  Commission Officers (later called Commissioned Officers)

  Captain Daniel (Dandy) KIDD,

  commanding HMS Wager until his death in January 1741

  Acting Captain David CHEAP,

  commanding HMS Wager from January 1741

  Lieutenant Robert BAYNES (sometimes spelt Beans or Baines),

  First Lieutenant, second in command

  Warrant Officers

  Thomas CLARK, Master, responsible for navigation

  John BULKELEY, Gunner

  John KING, Boatswain; responsible for rigging, sails, boats etc.

  John CUMMINS, Carpenter

  John YOUNG, Cooper

  Dr ELLIOT, Surgeon

  Thomas HARVEY, Purser; responsible for provisions

  Petty Officers (junior to Warrant Officers)

  Midshipman the Hon John BYRON

  Midshipman Alexander CAMPBELL

  Midshipman Isaac MORRIS

  Midshipman Henry COZENS

  John JONES, Mate, assistant to the Master

  Others

  Robert ELLIOT, Surgeon’s Mate; no relation to the Surgeon

  Embarked Marine Contingent

  Captain Robert PEMBERTON

  Lieutenant Thomas HAMILTON

  Dr Vincent OAKLEY, Surgeon

  Part 1

  Setting the Scene

  Introduction

  Shared Heritage at the End of the World

  By Chilean maritime archaeologist Diego Carabias Amor, Director of the Wager Research Project.

  The remarkable story of HMS Wager has been recognised many times in the past as one of the most extraordinary episodes in the literature of the sea, being a dramatic and powerful tale of violence, disorder, affliction and endurance. This combination of human qualities made the survivors’ narratives eighteenth-century best-sellers. Indeed John Byron’s account, published for the first time in 1768, and perhaps the best known of them, was some years ago placed on UNESCO’s International Collection of Representative Works.

  Other aspects of this saga are less well known. For example, survivors’ accounts provide valuable and privileged first-hand ethnographic information about the maritime-oriented indigenous groups of Western Patagonia during the Spanish Colonial period: the Chonos and the Kawéqar. The Chonos, in fact, were assimilated and became extinct during the following decades. Today, the descriptions by the Wager officers of their contacts with the Chonos and the Kawéqar are essential reading for any scientist or scholar who wishes to study these ancient inhabitants of Patagonian coastal waters.

  Moreover, shipwreck archaeological sites represent an important category of our Underwater Cultural Heritage. Ships, being long-distance vehicles for the transport of people, goods and ideas, go well beyond normal cultural boundaries. Shipwrecks are often relevant both to the country of origin and to the coastal state where they are located, and imply joint responsibilities. Shipwreck sites are unique, vulnerable and valuable cultural resources, and with scientific research they can provide us with substantial information about our past. If they are not properly managed, they may be lost for ever. There is, happily, an increasing international awareness of the urgent need to protect them, and the UNESCO Convention on the Protection of Underwater Cultural Heritage is a fine example of this broad effort.

  The shared heritage of Britain and Chile.

  It is highly likely that this cannon in the main street of Maullin (a town on the mainland just north of Chiloé) was salvaged from the wreck of the Wager.

  The loss of the Wager also had important consequences for colonial southern Chile, and contributed significantly to the geographic and cartographic knowledge of Western Patagonia and its indigenous inhabitants. For some years after the ship was wrecked in 1741 there were expeditions to salvage the wreck, and this sparked missionary zeal to convert to Christianity the native peoples discovered there. So the Wager played a decisive part in social construction and surveying of Western Patagonia in a multi-ethnic context, relevant both for the Spanish and the local people of the area.

  The process through which significance and meaning is attached to places is dynamic and multi-layered. Although the material remains of the Wager were forgotten for many years, two completely different and independent expeditions coincided 265 years afterwards in the isolated islands where the ship was lost, one a party of British exploration divers and another a group of Chilean maritime archaeologists. Although with different aims and approaches, both were interested in the Wager story. Their collaboration made possible the discovery and study of the archaeological remains of this drama – a process that is just beginning.

  The historical account now published in this book, based on a thorough research of archives in England and Chile, provides new insights that broaden our perspective. For this story of a ship, lost at the end of the world, was to become a legacy for the whole of humankind.

  Chapter 1

  The Captain Writes from Jail

  This letter is from a British naval captain i
n Santiago who had been taken prisoner by the Spanish.

  To Richard Lindsey Esquire

  Buenos Aires

  26th February 1744

  Dear Sir…

  His Majesty’s ship the Wager, under my command, was lost in the night between the 13th and 14th May in the year 1741, upon rocks that lay four or five miles distant from some islands that lay near the coast of Patagonia,[1] in the latitude of 46 degrees and a half. The weather was at that time (and had been for almost ten weeks before) extremely bad, the night very dark, and the ship without a mizzen-mast, having lost that some time before in coming round the Cape. My ship’s company at that unhappy juncture were almost all sick, having not more than six or seven seamen, and three or four marines, that were able to keep the deck; and they so fatigued with the excessive length of the voyage, the long course of bad weather, and scarcity of fresh water, that they were very little able to do their duty.

  As for myself, I had enjoyed but a very indifferent state of health from the time of our leaving Britain, being seldom free from the rheumatism, or asthma; and to heighten my misfortunes, on the afternoon before the ship was lost, as I was walking along the deck with a design to go upon the forecastle in order to give some directions about repairing of four of the chain-plates that were broken by the excessive labouring of the ship, I was thrown down one of the hatchways, and was so unlucky as to dislocate the upper bone of my left arm. I was taken up very much stunned and hurt with the violence of the fall and dislocation, which cost the Surgeon two or three hours of trouble to reduce, and bring me to myself.

  I then sent for my Lieutenant and Gunner, and told them of the danger we were in, and gave them such orders as, had they been complied with, would in all probability have saved the ship. But my Lieutenant, regardless of his charge, went (as I was afterwards informed) to his bottle, without giving himself any farther concern about the preservation of His Majesty’s ship. The Surgeon, contrary to my knowledge, laid me asleep with an opiate, telling me it was only something to prevent a fever. So that I knew nothing of what was doing in the ship from seven o’clock at night till half an hour past four next morning, the time when the ship first struck, although my Lieutenant had orders, and his duty required him, to keep every body upon deck that was able to stir out of their hammocks, and to inform me if we had any ground with the lead, and of the winds and weather. It is surprising strange that in all that time neither he nor any of my officers should come and wake me.

  We struck, as I told you before, at half an hour past four, and from that time until seven ran through breakers, with rocks above water close on each side of us, very often striking, and expecting the ship every moment to go to pieces. For the third stroke broke the rudder, and made such a hole in her bottom, that she was in an instant full of water up to the hatches. However, it pleased God that at break of day she stuck fast on a rock near the land, which proved an island, in sight of the Cordilleras,[2] where my first care was to securing a good quantity of arms, ammunition and some provisions.

  You cannot well conceive, nor can I easily recount to you, the repeated troubles and vexations that I met with for the space of five months after the ship was lost, from mutinous and disobedient men, headed by all my officers; being for most part of that time lame of an arm, and ill of the rheumatism. I endeavoured, both by fair means and force, to bring them to reason and a sense of their duty. I even proceeded to extremities, when other means proved ineffectual; and I firmly believe I should have got the better of them had it not been for the behaviour of the Captain of the Marines, who (lost to all sense of honour or the interest of his country) came into all their measures. The consequence of which was, that about four days before the long-boat was ready to sail (which I had built with a design to join the Commodore at the rendezvous, or in case of not finding him to act as occasion should offer) they surprised me whilst asleep, bound my hands, and put me in close confinement under a guard of six or eight men and an officer; and at the same time making a prisoner of Mr Hamilton, who was the only man among the marine officers that during all this unfortunate affair behaved himself with either honour, courage, or steadiness.

  I am afraid of tiring your patience, and shall therefore be as concise as I can. They sailed on the 14th October 1741, saying when they went off, with the utmost insolence and inhumanity, “that I might take my leave of Englishmen, for I never would see any more of them than what they left with me”: who were only Mr Hamilton, Mr Elliot my surgeon, who refused to go on board except they submitted themselves to my command, and seven men more that were upon an island, about five or six miles distant from us. They likewise left a very small quantity of extraordinarily bad flour, and a few pieces of salt meat. Their design, as well as I could be informed, was to sail through the Straits of Magellan, for the coast of Brazil.

  About five or six days after the long-boat sailed, Mr Byron and another of my midshipmen, whose name is Campbell, returned to me in the barge, bringing with them six seamen whom they had prevailed upon to leave the long-boat, which was at anchor about six or eight leagues to the westward. I then began to conceive great hopes, and set about repairing the yawl, which they had left on the beach all in pieces. Which when done, as soon as the weather would permit, we sailed, coasting along to the northward. Our resolutions I cannot so well communicate to you in a letter; I leave you to guess them; for I had then 18 men very well armed, and two boats.

  It would be endless to enumerate the many dangers, hardships, and difficulties that we underwent. Let it suffice to tell you that our number was at last reduced to 11, viz. we four that are here, my Surgeon, who died of hunger and the hardships we underwent, and six seamen, with only one boat, for the other we lost in bad weather.

  I wish I could forget the rest of our story, for really the barbarity of these six villains shocks me yet; who one day (as I was gone out to pick up sea weed or anything I could find to satisfy my hunger) ran away with the boat, carrying with them all our arms, ammunition, the few clothes that we had saved, and in short everything that could be of the least use to us. What could provoke the villains to so foul a deed I cannot tell, except it was their cowardice. We had now nothing but a scene of human misery before our eyes, and must infallibly have perished of hunger in a very few days, had not Providence sent some Indians to our assistance, who undertook to pilot us to the island of Chiloé; for I was now reduced to the infamous necessity of surrendering myself a prisoner, which you know sir, is the greatest misfortune that can befall a man.

  It is impossible for me to describe to you the condition that we were in when we arrived at the island of Chiloé, for it really surpasses all description. I shall only say this, that if half the number of lice that we had about us had been armed men, we could not easily have been got the better of. Nor could it well be otherwise, for we were three months with the Indians, in a most rigorous climate, exposed to the inclemency of the weather, without meat, without clothes, and living in a dirtier manner than the Hottentots.

  We were at Chiloé seven months before we could have an opportunity of a vessel to Valparaiso, where we arrived 19th February 1743. And on the 25th we were brought to Santiago, by order of the President, Señor Don Joseph Mansa, who seems to be a gentleman of distinguished honour and merit.

  It would be very ungrateful in me if I did not do justice to your friend, Señor Don Manuel de Guiroir, who with great politeness and humanity offered me what money I wanted to supply my necessities. I only took 600 pieces-of-eight from him, for which I gave him bills on Mr Compton, His Majesty’s consul-general of Portugal, payable in Lisbon. However, as we came here all in rags, that (you know) goes but a very small way. I have received 850 pieces-of-eight, which they say is the amount of what is sold of the cargo you mention, and should have sent you bills of exchange before this time had not Don Manuel told me that it was absolutely necessary to defer them, until such time as he went; which he says will be about a month hence.

  I am sure that I have quite tired your pati
ence, but I must beg your indulgence a little longer. I assure you, without compliment, that I am extremely glad of commencing an acquaintance with any relation of my Lord Crawford’s, to whom I have the honour to be very well known; and I am sorry to tell you that when we left Britain he was very ill of the wounds which he received at the battle of Belgrade, where he behaved himself with great bravery.

  I have been informed, since my arrival here, that my mutineers in the long-boat were seen in the mouth of the River Plate, with only 25 or 30 men in her. If this be true, one half or more of them are dead for they were in all 62 when they left me. If you know anything particularly of them, or of three more of my men who are said to be in the hands of the Governor of Buenos Aires, conducted thither by land by some wild Indians, pray be so good as to let me know, particularly their names.

  You know it is the unhappy fate of a prisoner at discretion[3] that he cannot make articles[4] for himself. I therefore cannot tell you anything of our destiny. However I have this comfort, that I did everything in my power to prevent our falling into their hands, and for the rest must have patience until God sends a peace; which I hope will be for the honour of Great Britain. Let the fate of particular persons be what it will, but let the honour of our country be immortal. I have still strong hopes of seeing it; and it will add much to the pleasure if we should happen to go together. I must confess to you that every day here seems to me an age, though I must at the same time own that my misfortunes are greatly softened by the good offices of our friend and countryman, Mr Gedd; of whose kindness and civility I cannot say too much.

  I will not add to the exorbitant prolixity of this letter by making apologies for it; but conclude, with great truth and sincerity,

  Dear Sir,

  Your most faithful humble servant,