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Chaos
in the Cayos
By
Peter
Hunt
Night in Los Cayos de la Muerte
1670: The Three Tunns Tavern, Port
Royal Jamaica. “QUIET! You
Blaggards!” The hard
vowels of Sir Henry Morgan’s Cardiff accent did not so much cut through
the drunken babble of the assembled pirates, as hack through it with a
rasping, but none too sharp, blade. But it did catch the attention. “Now listen
up… this be the plan.” “As ye
all know it’s not been good pickin’s for the Brethren o’ late. Victims
o’ our own success I say we is.
We been so successful with our depredations
that now the Dons are reinforcing the Armada de la Guardia de la Carrera
de las Indias,
bringing in ships from as far away as Acapulco an’ Flanders I reckons.
There be no way we can take the main silver fleet on, not with our
small, light vessels up agin them mighty galleons. No way. But, me
hearties, there be a way…”
He had them now. The room was silent as Morgan
continued. “Aside from ye main treasure fleet I ‘as received certain
intelligences, of like a secret nature, that the Armada de Barlovento,
aye the “Windward Fleet” to them of ye that not be cunning linguists,
will be sailing fo’ Havana to rendezvous with the Flota de Indias and
off-load a substantial shipment o’ silver for onward transmission.
Right, it may not be all the riches that
the Flota carries, but it will still be a pretty penny me boys.”
A loud belch, a fart, and the scraping of a chair pushed back as
Gentleman Jeff rose to his feet to interject, almost broke Morgan’s
flow, but the Welshman would not be stopped: “Aye, Jeff, aye, I knows
what ye an’ the others be thinking…. Don Alonso be no fool, an’ even the
Armada de Barlovento be too strong for us assembled here, our motley
collection of schooners, pinaces, pataches , sloops an’ boats. But I ‘as
three answers to that.”
“First we attacks ‘ere…” Morgan’s finger stubbed
the map of the Spanish Main, “right ‘ere, in Los Cayos
de la Muerte, the narrow passage of the
“Keys of Death” where the Spanish will not be able to manoeuvre an’ our
swift, shallow draft an’ yare craft will ‘ave a decisive advantage in
amongst the many desert islands and sand keys.”
“Second, we attacks at night, when their better firepower will come to
naught: if ‘n the Dons can’t see us they can’t shoot us right?”
“Third,” Morgan paused, and the pirates leaned forward to catch his
words, knowing that he would keep the best for last, “I put the word out
to all the Brethren of the Coast and they be a coming. Gentlemen, I know
that ye will sail with me on a good chance of handsome plunder, but
think ‘ow much better that chance be when we sail with the likes of
Peter Blood and Hector Barbossa. Aye, they’ll be there, and with them
backing up your own courage and indomitable spirit we can’t fail!”
The room was silent for a moment as the pirates drank in the legendary
names. Then Gentleman Jeff pulled himself up, raised his feathered, wide
brimmed hat about his head, eyed the assembly knowingly for a moment,
and then cried:
“Three
cheers for Sir Henry Morgan! Three cheers for Captain Blood! Three
cheers for Hector Barbossa! An’ Death and Damnation to the Dons!”
Morgan raised his tankard and grinned at the cheering privateers, and he
grinned to himself too. Always keep something back he thought to
himself. These drunken blaggards can no more keep a secret than they can
keep pieces of eight in their pockets when there was wine and wenches to
be had. Best not tell them about the deal that he had done with Davy
Jones and that wee beastie of a pet he has, no… best to keep that
surprise up his sleeve.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A Week Later: Governor’s Palace, Veracruz
Don Alonso del Compo y Espinosa, signed his last order with a flourish
and handed it to his secretary to sand the ink, seal the orders, and
dispatch them. The word from his spies in Port Royal had been clear.
Morgan, Blood and Barbossa eh? There they all were, the so-called
Brethren of the Coast putting all their eggs in one basket. Yes,
together they would be formidable, but nothing that the Armada de
Barlovento could not handle. And, as they sought to trap him in Los
Cayos de la Muerte he would trap them. As he entered the narrow passage
from one end, three stout galleons from the Armada del Mar del Sur and
four light, shallow, and nimble frigates and snauws from the Armada de
Flandes would block the other end. The English would be caught between
hammer and anvil and crushed… all the pirates destroyed in one place, at
one time, in one battle, to bring peace and prosperity again to the
Indies. “What’s next?” he asked of his secretary.
“Your interview with Don Antonio Mathias, the cow doctor and barber’s
surgeon Sire. He is supposed to have a rare skill of winning the
confidence of animals but that is of no use to us. I’ve told him there
are no vacancies in the fleet Sire, but as a gentleman he insists on
seeing you, Sire.”
The secretary admitted a small, thin man with a strange glint to his
eye. With the respect due of one hidalgo for another, Don Alonso shook
his hand but wasted no time in disabusing him of any idea of paid
employment. To his surprise the doctor took this rebuttal with
equanimity. He smiled a wan, but somehow meaningful smile, doffed his
hat, said, “Thank you Don Alonso, it is always a pleasure to shake the
hand of a great man such as you, and may I wish you good fortune on your
next voyage,” and took his leave. Don Alonso had been expecting a long
drawn out bewailing of the difficulties and expense in maintaining a
noble mien in these modern days and none too subtle demands for one
noble to bail out another financially. The doctor’s attitude had come as
a rather pleasant surprise. What a strange little man he was, thought
Don Alonso.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
March 12th: Los Cayos de la Muerte
Los Cayos de la Muerte:
The treacherous nature of the channel can be seen here with rocks, sand
keys and islands that would prove as dangerous to the ships on both
sides as any enemy. The Armada de Balovento comes on in good order in
the centre. To their port the
Black Pearl moves up in the night. In the darkness to starboard
Morgan’s Satisfaction leads
eight small sloops, schooners and pinaces. Outboard of them the
Margaret leads Peter Blood’s
Arabella. Morgan had also secreted cutters with crews of
swashbuckling cutthroats on the small islands in centre of the channel
to sally fourth from ambush when the time came. Don
Alonso checked the glass: one hour before dawn. If the English were to
attack then now was the time to expect it. He had made his Peace with
the Lord and received absolution from the priest. He was prepared to die
for his, faith, his country and his honour. But if he survived this day
and came safe home, think of the honours and riches they would pile on
the man who had removed the scourge of piracy from the Spanish Main.
Yes, honours and riches, and he would have the chance to get this
annoying black mole that had been growing on the palm of his right hand
treated. He stared out through the gloom. Fine off the starboard bow the
Santa Anna, a frigate probed
ahead, her shallow draught and manoeuvrability a boon in these
treacherous waters.
The main body of the Armada followed his
flagship Nuestra Senora (N.S.) de
la Conception coming on in good order with a heaving nao in the
centre of the line, and the vice flagship N.S.
La
Soleda securing the rear. These three large ships carried the bulk
of the fleet’s treasure with the rest distributed amongst the smaller
vessels. The little Rosario
and a patach stood by to starboard to carry his messages along the line,
with a sixth rate out to port to give early warning on that flank. Don
Alonso smiled, the Armada was ready, it couldn’t be long now….
Before Dawn:
The Armada de Barlovento keeps good order running before the wind. The
broad reaching English to their starboard are moving faster and will
soon come into sight. But the first threat to the Armada lurks unseen in
the darkness to the Armada’s port: the
Black Pearl. When it
came the word was almost too late: “Enemy in sight off the port quarter!
Por Dios, La Perla Negro!” Don Alonso swung his spyglass astern just in
time to see the dreaded Black
Pearl emerge from the gloom and fire a broadside into
N.S. Del Carmen the flank
guard. My God! Thought Don Alonso, those are big guns for a frigate!
Hector Barbossa’s flair and audacity was renowned throughout the Main,
but this time to the well-practiced eye of Don Alonso it was clear that
the pirate had taken flair and audacity too far. Coming on broad
reaching under full sail The
Pearl was sailing too fast to safely negotiate the shallows and she
shuddered as she scraped through the sand and coral beneath the surface
damaging the hull, and then leaving herself alone under the guns of the
Armada, but that did not stop her putting another broadside into
la Conception. The
Black Pearl was alone because
her compatriots on the other side of the strait were bearing away from
the Armada, Morgan having decided that the diminutive
Santa Anna was a better
target for his small sloops than the big galleons. These could be left
to Peter Blood’s larger ships which opened their account by devastating
the tiny despatch vessel Rosario.
The First Blows:
Barbossa’s Black Pearl has
suffered hull damage from running too close to the rocks while closing
but she has still damaged
Conception and Carmen
with her powerful broadsides.
At
the top of the engraving Morgan’s squadron is engaging the frigate
Santa Anna whilst Peter
Blood’s ships are devastating the
Rosario and her tiny consort. “Fire!”
Don Alonso’s order was still ringing in the air as three murderous
broadsides and a rake from
Carmen’s chasers crashed into the
Black Pearl leaving her
crippled and ablaze with the flames quickly spreading to her sails and
rigging. As Barbossa rallied his crew to fight the fire she was
effectively out of the battle and in danger of exploding at any moment. Don
Alonso scanned the western horizon as the first rays of the sun burst
upon the Caribbean, illuminating, so he hoped, his great victory. His
squadron was already halfway through the channel for no great loss, and
in his spyglass he scanned over
la Conception’s bow, searching for the frigates of the Armada de
Flandes and the galleons from Acapulco. Yes, there they were! His trap
had sprung shut and the pirates would soon be surrounded.
Then his eye was caught by a disturbance in
the water, at long shot, fine off
la Conception’s starboard bow, directly in front of the hapless
Santa Anna. The disturbance grew and grew, a maelstrom of water and
gouts of air rising from below the otherwise placid waters. And then,
from out of this swirling mass came a sight no mariner wished to see:
with some well scored Wagnerian tones
The Flying Dutchman broke
surface, a mass of foetid marine life and malevolence. “Nombre
de Dios!” Don Alonso thought to himself, but his lips beyond his control
enunciated the words to all present. Until now he had dismissed tales of
the Dutchman that sailed on
and below the oceans of the world stealing the souls of mariners, as the
stories of simple, superstitious, and probably besotted sailors. But now
he had the evidence of his own eyes. As he scanned the water streaming
decks of the Dutchman his
spyglass alighted on a small figure on the poop, grinning manically and
shouting orders. Don Alonso’s mind searched for recognition but only
found confusion. What was Don Antonio Mathias doing giving orders on
Davy Jones’ ship? It was perhaps just as well that Don Alonso could not
lip read, because the order that Davy Jones was giving was “Man the
Kraken Hammer!” The spot on Don Alonso’s palm began to throb ominously….
The Situation at Dawn:
The Armada is already halfway through the channel having dealt a
seemingly mortal blow to the Black Pearl as she lies on fire and
dismasted. At the top left the fast frigates of the Armada de Flandes
are closing in, just behind them will come three strong Manila galleons
from Acapulco. But in front of the poor Santa Anna the dreaded
Flying Dutchman has surfaced…
what does this presage for the Spaniards? “Man the
Kraken Hammer you scurvy blaggards!”Shrieked Jones again. On one of Sir
Henry’s or Peter Blood’s ships the call to man the capstan would have
been met with alacrity and probably with a rousing sea shanty from the
stout hearted English seamen to make the hard work go easy. But men who
are doomed to an eternity of toil before the mast need more than
cadenced songs to rouse them, and the response from the
Dutchman’s crew was slack and
indifferent.
Jones had the answer to this though, his
own motivational techniques eschewed the empathy with the men and warm
hearted encouragement that a Morgan or Blood would use, Jones’ methods
lacked any subtlety, but they were effective: “Bo’sun… don’t spare the
lashes!” And for every crewman who fell under the whips of the overseers
the others put even more of their sore and aching backs into the work.
Turn by turn the hammer was raised until it reached its release
catchment and descended with a crash that echoed across the keys. Men of
both fleets stopped to listen to the rhythmic booming and wonder what it
presaged. But another being was listening too, and in the pellucid
waters below la Conception
the enormous eyes of a beastie searched for a black spot that it could
not see yet, but knew was there….
“Caramba!” As a well-read and learned man Don Alonso did not like to
sound like a cliché but there was a time for everything and in this case
a cliché was the most appropriate response. As the Kraken rose above
la Conception the Admiral did not panic and coolly worked out his
odds.
Yes, the Kraken was big, but
la Conception wasn’t much
smaller. Her high castles would make the bestie’s work more difficult
and he could rely on his drilled soldiers and his solid NCOs to stand
firm.
It was probably the latter that saved
la Conception this time.
When men
are faced with a monstrous prospect the responses range from collapsing
helpless as their bowels turn to water, to laughing at the horrible
absurdity of it all.
It was Sargento Primero Francisco who got
the laugh: “Ah a Kraken is that all? If I had a Real for every Kraken
I’ve ‘ad to see off in me time I’d be up there on the poop deck with Don
Alonso and all the other rich toffs by now.” Whether his men took the
NCO’s words as fact or fantasy, humour or hubris, it didn’t matter, they
laughed, their bowels stayed firm, and so did their arms on the boarding
pikes. The Kraken would not pass and was repulsed.
A Bad Start to the Morning:
La
Conception fights off the Kraken’s initial assault. Behind them the
Black Pearl burns. As they looked
over the bow at the hurt Kraken recoiling from the stout Spanish defence
Don Alonso and his men could be forgiven for believing that they had
just fought off a natural disaster. Alas before they could celebrate
this a colossal explosion alerted them to a man-made disaster taking
place over their stern. When all
eyes had been on the titanic struggle between ship and beastie, Peter
Blood’s ships the Margaret
and Arabella had borne down
on the starboard side of the Armada’s line. Fearing that if they shot at
la Conception they might hit
the Kraken, and in no way wishing to provoke the beastie against
themselves, they concentrated their fire on the second ship in line, the
Santa Louisa. Although
previously unscathed, poor handling of cartridges in
Santa Louisa’s roundhouse led to a gunpowder explosion that
destroyed the ship, and flaming debris set fire to the two outriders of
the squadron, the Rosario to
starboard and del Carmen to
port. Worse yet the fire spread to
Carmen’s magazine and when she went up she set fire to the nao
Santa Teresa de Jesus. “Caramba!” As
a well-read and learned man Don Alonso had run out of clichés. In the
space of a few minutes he had won a temporary respite against the Kraken
but lost nearly half his fleet to fire and explosion. A cry of: “Eh up!
Another Real please!” from Sargento Primero Francisco brought his
attention back from the inferno astern to more immediate problems on his
port quarter. The Kraken was attacking again.
The
Kraken Attacks Again:
The
Kraken has another go against la
Conception in the centre whilst to their left
the
Magdalen tries to grapple the
Elizabeth and both the Santa
Teresa and the Black Pearl
burn.
To their right Morgan on the
Satisfaction is set to run
aboard the Santa Clara and
start a bloodbath. Much now
happened at once. Both Jones in the
Dutchman and Blood in the
Arabella decided to give the
mass of burning ships and monstrous attacks a wide berth and bore away,
whilst the carefully secreted pirate cutters on hearing their signal,
the Kraken hammer, broke ambush and rowed for both sides of the Armada.
However the boats to starboard were too far away to catch the galleons
and those to port were faced by a line of burning ships that it would be
most unwise to grapple. Thus the prime target, the
Santa Teresa was able to
plough on, fighting her fire manfully. The few boats that did reach the
galleons were easily, almost contemptuously, repulsed with great loss. With the
Armada’s formation in tatters the Spanish commanders lashed out
aggressively. The Magdalen
ran towards the Elizabeth but
failed to grapple her, but in her attempts to avoid this, and the
embroiled la Conception and
Kraken, the Elizabeth failed to keep a weather eye out and ran aground
under full sail, effectively wrecking herself.
Meanwhile Don Simeon had brought up the Armada de Flandes to cut off
Morgan, a challenge that Morgan accepted with relish leading his
boarders onto the Spaniard even though his
Satisfaction and Don Simeon’s
Santa Clara were almost equally matched. In a bloody melee they
fought each other to a standstill, knowing that whoever lost the next
melee would strike, but with the chances of winning or losing exactly
equal neither side wanted to initiate that melee. And
still Don Alonso, Sargento Primero Francisco and the crew of
la Conception fought the
Kraken. This time the beastie was more successful, killing many brave
Spaniards. But the Conception
was able to break free again and held firm her course to join up with
the Armada de Flandes and punish Morgan. The sloops behind Morgan were
little match for the galleon and she drove the
Cagway, Pearl and
Dolphin ashore before the
Kraken caught her again.
Nearing the End:
La Conception
has driven three of Morgan’s small fry ashore and
badly damaged three more, but the Kraken has caught her again. The
Satisfaction and the Santa
Clara have their scuppers running red with blood and the victory
will go to who can reinforce first. On board
both the Satisfaction and the
Santa Clara it was clear that
the first side to reinforce the bloodbath would triumph. Support from
both sides was closing fast but the English won the race and the
Spaniard struck. The Kraken’s third attack on la Conception was
decisive, cut down and overwhelmed by the monster the few remaining crew
abandoned ship. But the fight for la Conception was not yet over. An
English prize crew quickly took control only to have the Manila galleon
N.S
de la Encarnación
crash alongside and evict them. But as the Spaniards tried to cut free
their flagship the Kraken attacked for the final time and destroyed the
scratch crew. It was clear that the Spanish could not save
la Conception and
the 20% of the fleet’s treasure that she carried from the Kraken so they
broke off, securing what was left of the Armada de Barlovento.
The Spanish had saved 70% of their treasure but at the cost of eight of
their 17 ships. Although Don Alonso’s trap had snapped shut it had been
prized open again by the pirate counter-trap of the Kraken. It was this
Force of Nature and the unlucky combustibility of the Spanish ships that
had decided the day.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Game.
The game was fought out with 32 ships and
flotillas of boats over four hours using Nic Wright’s excellent Galleys
and Galleons rules as amended
here by me for big
battles. The
sides were equal in points with 480 each, (probably about 550 each in
the rules as written as I make smaller vessels cheaper,) of which 180
were accounted for by the Flying
Dutchman and the Kraken.
Sides were chosen at random, Gentleman Jeff
was smitten by seasickness, (or was he absent because he was the mole
who leaked the pirate plans?) and was replaced by Simon, Don Simeon, at
short notice. Neil played a true captain’s innings as Don Alonso,
Frankie a suitably swashbuckling Morgan, and it was especially
appropriate that the Society’s only veterinarian Tony should be in
charge of marine life animal welfare as that nasty little piece of work
Davy Jones, so no typecasting there then. The paranoia of the double
trap worked well. At one stage the English were convinced that there was
not actually any treasure aboard the Armada, that just being a tall tale
to lure them into a disadvantageous battle.
As I have said before the thing that I like about these rules is that
events take on a life of their own. The dice seemed to have no
understanding of their role as an averaging-out random number generating
system. Thus Simon played conservatively looking for no more than two
activations a ship and consistently failing both of them to lose the
initiative, whilst Neil threw caution to the winds seeking a series of
triple activations with no multiple failures. On the other hand there is
only a one in six chance of a ship near an exploding vessel catching
fire but out of six possible chances over two explosions Neil managed to
burn three of his ships. Jones’ brutal nature was reflected in a new
rule that Nic is playtesting for a fantasy expansion of his rules and I
can report back that it works well. And we really did have a
conversation as to whether “veteran NCOs” would have any effect against
a Kraken and it was Frankie who channeled the stalwart First Sergeant on
the
forecastle
of la Conception
with the quip,
so it was only fair that the wag was named
after him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Postscript: 2016
The Battle of Los Cayos de la Muerte has gone down as one of the Armada
de Barlovento’s most glorious defeats, often used to contrast their
showing at Maricabo where they were embarrassingly outwitted and
outfought by Morgan. At Los Cayos de la Muerte history tells us that the
Spanish fought with skill and courage against great odds. Yes, they
succumbed, but most of the treasure was saved, and had Fortune offered a
fairer share of her graces to both sides the Spanish may have prevailed.
Of course history says nothing of the
Flying Dutchman
and the Kraken. On the English side what value was there in admitting
that their victory had been brought about by such nefarious means? As
for the Spanish the Dutchman
and the Kraken were written out of their accounts too. With an oceanic
empire to maintain it would not do for the simple, superstitious, and
probably besotted sailors of Spain to believe that there were worse
things out there than buccaneers and hurricanes.
But although the tale of the Kraken was suppressed, history is sometimes
still revealed in the unconscious actions of men. Even to this day the
descendants of
Don Alonso del Compo y Espinosa observe a family tradition and, for
reasons that they do not ken and believe lost in the mists of time,
cross themselves whenever calamari is served.
Aftermath:
Davy Jones, a.k.a. Don Antonio Mathias with the
Flying Dutchman
and a well fed pet. |
