The Wager Disaster: Mayem, Mutiny and Murder in the South Seas

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 in 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 patience, 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,

David Cheap

This letter raises a number of intriguing and bizarre questions. What was HMS Wager doing off the coast of Chile in 1744, apparently so far away from British interests and possessions? Was it not a major navigational error for the ship to be set so far inshore? And what does Captain Cheap mean by the words I even proceeded to extremities when trying to control mutinous and disobedient men? To address these questions, and many others, we must go back five years to the start of Britain’s war with Spain.

Chapter 2

Preparations for War

It is 1740, and Britain and Spain have been at war for a few months. An experienced naval captain, George Anson, is appointed Commodore and Commander-in-Chief of a small squadron to annoy and distress the Spanish in the Pacific. His ships, which include H.M.S. Wager as stores-ship, are with difficulty fitted out and manned in Portsmouth and Deptford by an over-stretched naval administration, and their departure is delayed. They eventually sail too late for Cape Horn and the most hostile of sea passages anywhere in the world.

The story of the Wager disaster begins with some admirably clear and flexible orders, probably drafted by the First Lord, in the name of King George II:

(signed) George R

Instructions for our trusty and well-beloved George Anson, Esq., Commander-in-Chief of our ships designed to be sent into the South Seas in America. Given at our Court at St. James’s the 31st day of January 1740, in the thirteenth year of our reign.

Whereas we have thought proper to declare war against the King of Spain, for the several injuries and indignities offered to our crown and people, which are more particularly set forth in our declaration of war, we have thought fit to direct that you, taking under your command our ships, should proceed with them according to the following instructions. You are to receive on board our said ships five hundred of our land forces, and to proceed forthwith to the Cape de Verde Islands, and to supply your ships with water and such refreshments as are to be procured there; and you are from thence to make the best of your way to the Island of St Catherine on the coast of Brazil, or such other place on that coast as you may be advised is more proper, where you are again to supply your ships with water and any other necessaries you may want that can be had there. And when you have done so, you are to proceed with our ships under your command into the South Sea, either round Cape Horn or through the Straits of Magellan, as you shall judge most proper, and according as the season of the year and winds and weather shall best permit.

When you shall arrive on the Spanish coast of the South Sea,[5] you are to use your best endeavours to annoy and distress the Spaniards, either at sea or land, to the utmost of your power, by taking, sinking, burning, or otherwise destroying all their ships and vessels that you shall meet with, and particularly their boats, and all embarkations[6] whatsoever, that they may not be able to send any intelligence by sea along the coast of your being in those parts.

In case you shall find it practical to seize, surprise or take any of the towns or places belonging to the Spaniards on the coast, that you may judge worthy of making such an enterprise upon, you are to attempt it; for which purpose we have not only ordered the land forces above mentioned, but have also thought proper to direct that an additional number of small arms be put on board the ships under your command to be used, as occasion may require, by the crews of the said ships, or otherwise, as you shall find best for our service. And you are, on such occasions, to take the opinion of the Captains of our ships under your command at a Council of War: of which Council of War, in case of any attack or enterprise by land, the Commander of our land forces shall also be one; which said land forces shall, upon such occasions, be landed according to the determination of the said Council of War. And as it will be absolutely necessary for you to be supplied with provisions and water, when and where they can be had, you will inform yourself of the places where that can most conveniently be done; and as we have been informed that the coasts of Chile, and particularly the island of Chiloé, do abound with provisions and necessaries of all sorts, you are to call there for that purpose.

As it has been represented unto us that the number of native Indians on the coast of Chile greatly exceeds that of the Spaniards, and that there is reason to believe that the said Indians may not be averse to join with you against the Spaniards in order to recover their freedom, you are to endeavour to cultivate a good understanding with such Indians as shall be willing to join and assist you in any attempt that you may think proper to make against the Spaniards that are established there…

But where the Spanish ships in their passage between Panama and Lima do usually stop, it will be proper for you to look into those places, and to annoy Spaniards there, as much as it shall be in your power. And if you shall meet with the Spanish men-of-war that carry the treasure from Lima to Panama, you are to endeavour to make yourself master of them.

When you are arrived at Panama you will probably have an opportunity to take or destroy such embarkations as you shall find there. And as the town itself is represented to be not very strong, especially as it has been lately burnt down, you are, if you shall think you have sufficient force for that purpose, to make an attempt upon that town and endeavour to take it, or burn and destroy it, as you think most for our service.

And as you may possibly find an opportunity to send privately overland to Portobello or Darien, you are by that means to endeavour to transmit to any of our ships or forces that shall be on that coast an account of what you have done, or intend to do. And lest any such intelligence should fall into the hands of the Spaniards we have ordered you to be furnished with a cipher in which manner only you are to correspond with our Admiral, or the Commander-in-Chief of any of our ships…

Britain’s war with Spain had been in force for three months, and has been called the War of Jenkins’ Ear. A merchant ship, the Rebecca of Glasgow, had been stopped by the Spanish some years before and plundered; the ship’s company had been maltreated, and the Master, Captain Jenkins, claimed he had had his ear cut off. The ear, pickled and presented to Parliament by Captain Jenkins, outraged public opinion which the MP-Admiral Edward Vernon in the House of Commons did all he could to inflame. There was much talk of the Catholic threat and a Spanish invasion, and a Jacobite-Catholic rising in Scotland, supported by France and Spain, seemed entirely possible. Moreover Spanish trading restrictions were hampering British trade, and no doubt the immensely rich Spanish colonies in the West Indies and in Central and South America were also in everyone’s mind. The government, headed by Robert Walpole, had reluctantly decided that war was unavoidable.

In this unsettled scene the Royal Navy, as so often in its history, could offer the nation stability and protection, as well as the possibility of taking the initiative against a powerful and aggressive enemy.

With hindsight it is easy to see that for Anson’s expedition - given sound ships, experienced crews and soldiers, surprise, and provision against disease - there would have been an excellent chance of causing havoc in the almost undefended Spanish Pacific colonies. But all was not well with the Navy, and almost none of those elements for success were achievable. Certainly there were resolute officers and some fine ships, but the administration was overstretched and haphazard in many crucial respects, and recruitment based on the press-gang was a constant problem.

In the summer of 1740 Portsmouth Dockyard, Spithead and the Solent were all crowded with ships as the Navy prepared two large fleets. One was intended for the North Atlantic and Mediterranean, to intercept and capture shipping going to and from Spanish ports. The other was to head for the West Indies to exploit Admiral Vernon’s recent and stirring success at Portobello. Fitting out, storing and manning these two large fleets and their auxiliaries meant that all the support services were working at full stretch.

The eighteenth-century press-gang at work.

The system was more unpopular, and less efficient, than twentieth-century conscription. But in wartime both were necessary.

Anson was aged 42 and a much-respected Captain with a reputation for being firm, uncommunicative, humane, calm, and highly professional. He was allocated six warships and two victualling ships (pinks) for his small squadron with its secret mission to the Pacific Ocean:

Centurion (Commodore George Anson), 4th rate, 60 guns, 400 men

Gloucester (Captain Richard Norris), 4th rate, 50 guns, 300 men

Severn (Captain the Hon. Edward Legge), 4th rate, 50 guns, 300 men

Pearl (Captain Mathew Mitchel), 5th rate, 40 guns, 250 men

Wager (Captain Daniel Kidd), 6th rate, 28 guns, 160 men

Tryall (Captain the Hon. George Murray), sloop, 8 guns, 100 men

Anna, pink

Industry, pink

With respect to preparing and fitting out this comparatively small squadron for what was known would be an extremely challenging operation, it is fair to say that just about everything went wrong. The other two fleets, both to be commanded by admirals, numbered 33 ships of the line,[7] and there were no less than 120 merchant ships to be organised into three convoys for North America, and the Eastern and Western Mediterranean. It is perhaps not surprising, but still highly regrettable, that top priority for stores, men, and dockyard support went to the larger fleets. Anson and his captains battled desperately against reluctant dockyard officials to get their own ships ready. The situation was urgent in that it was considered essential to get round Cape Horn in the austral summer; sailing conditions in that area are always vicious, but in winter they were thought to be nearly impossible.[8] A sailing date of June or July was desirable, but the squadron was delayed long after this. Moreover the longer the delay the less likely secrecy could be maintained, and indeed the Spanish heard about the expedition very quickly through their spies, and had time to warn their colonies and send a squadron of their own under Admiral Pizarro to intercept Anson.[9]

It is intriguing to see how efficient the intelligence services were at that time, and how difficult it seems to have been to keep a secret. The decision to send the expedition was made on 7th December 1739. On 30th January 1740 the French Ambassador at Madrid received a report - clearly based on an overheard conversation - There are letters from England which report that they are sending six frigates under the command of M. Hanson, which are under orders to round Cape Horn and enter the South Sea. And on 7th August 1740 Anson was informed that intercepted Spanish letters made it clear that the Viceroys of Peru and Mexico had been accurately informed of the size and intent of his squadron, and warned to be on their guard. In addition the English Press reported the slow progress of getting the squadron ready. On 19th July the London Evening Post informed readers and spies, Commodore Anson and the ships under his command, it’s said, are actually victualled for two and twenty months, and the sea and land officers on board have great lucrative expectations from the expedition that they are to be employed in.

If dockyard officials and naval administrators were not seized with the urgency of the situation, the captains of the ships of the squadron certainly were. They wrote dozens of strongly-worded letters to press