Bahamian Rhapsody

South Caribbean Sea 1595-2

“You say they spared you alone?” queried Drake, flinching as his back gave a violent twinge causing a spasm of pain to shoot through his body.

“I went back recently but for some reason or another the three men with me attacked some of the natives. They were killed but I was spared on the proviso that I help them with the treasure. As you say they are not interested in the metals but are worried about the true meaning of the treasure. They see it as cursed and want it removed or de-cursed if that makes sense. So in you I think I may found a God, despite what I think about your methods. My own countrymen are parasites only interested in taking gold, not in trying to understand them and their cultures.”

“So I am a God now, not the Devil, you think the notorious El Draco is interested in culture over gold?”

“No, but you are a man with a reputation for holding honour above all,” replied Vivendi thoughtfully. “As for my countrymen, they think I have gone native.”

“Perhaps you look to take the head of El Draco for a return to favour.”

“That’s a risk you must take; you treated me fairly last time. I ask only in return that if you are satisfied with what you see then you don’t scuttle my ship. She is all I have left, so you see El Draco, there is a personal motive.”

They took what provisions they could out of the Spanish ship and shared the proceeds between the other pinnacle boats for use as they sailed westwards to the South American coast. Another assault on Panama could now be mounted. Meanwhile the two ships, the small Spanish ship now with a skeleton crew, sailed slowly north. Drake calculated he had three days for his secret side excursion. The fresh activity and clear purpose created a vast improvement in morale on board "Defiance". After three days sailing the sea had turned azure blue as they reached uncharted waters to anchor in a small bay. Drake was invigorated by the Spanish Captain's story and the prospect of the great riches, about which he constantly spoke.

“Wait here with the hostages for three days.” Sir Francis had ordered Jack Templeman, his Captain and second in command, who now watched, frowning, from the poop deck of the flagship.

The two Captains with six men headed out in a small skiff towards an island nestling amongst a maze of reefs, an island made to appear bigger by the tree covered mountains sloping away from the beach. In the distance he could see shapes hanging from poles, dried bodies in cages! What the hell was Drake doing here? He frowned at his Spanish hostages and settled down to wait, and see what Vivendi had in mind.

As the small boat neared the beach, Vivendi realised with horror that his four Spanish seamen were still hanging there in the small iron cages, their bodies now reduced to just bones. “Ignore the skeletons and head for that landing point." He called to the helmsman. "It’s the only place to get ashore, the land is steep from the other side and has hidden reefs." He had become used to El Draco’s company now and pointed animatedly to the island as they approached, gesturing for the crewmen to leave them as they jumped ashore onto the pristine white beach. “Come back in six hours,” Drake commanded the bosun of the cutter, and began wading ashore. “You sure?” asked the burly seaman glancing at the gently swinging skeletons to their left. “Its only bones man.”

“Not there it ain’t,” replied the man, gesturing to where a preserved body hung. It had been hidden from view until they reached the shoreline. “Do as I say,” ordered Drake feeling the comfort of an eight inch long dagger under his doublet along with a small hidden pistol.

For over an hour Vivendi led them through thick jungle with undergrowth that formed an almost impenetrable barrier. The Don hacked a path through the thick jungle with his machete, seeming to know his way. Every so often he would stop, listen and look around nervously. After another fifty minutes of walking Drake was beginning to suffer acute pains in stomach, he cursed and stopped to take some water, coughing so violently that blood spotted his handkerchief. He stared at the red stain stoically, he had seen it in others and knew that it was the early stages of dysentery. Gritting his teeth he drove himself forward.

Eventually the undergrowth thinned out and they entered a small grassy clearing, in the distance caves dotted the hillside. Immediately after their arrival the bushes parted and out of the forest appeared two large, powerfully built, dark skinned native men carrying spears. Drake clutched his hidden pistol and looked at them in alarm, wondering if they were friendly. Vivendi had no such doubts, he smiled albeit nervously, and gestured a welcome with his hands. They scowled and moved closer lifting their spears. Drake gripped his pistol even harder ready to draw and fire as Vivendi again spread his hands wide, gesturing friendship. The confrontation was becoming tense when suddenly, to Drake's great relief, the bigger of the two natives smiled and threw down his spear and warmly embraced the Spaniard. They chattered in a strange language for a few minutes before Vivendi pointed to Drake. The big man looked across then lifted his head to the sky and flung himself to the floor prostrate in front of Drake. “What the hell did you tell him Vivendi?” demanded Drake, he had recognised the familiar Cimarrone markings though not the language. “That you are great friend of the Cimarrones and a God from a powerful country,” replied Vivendi. “This is sacred territory and if they didn’t believe you were a God they would certainly have killed you.”

“Why is the territory sacred?”

“The secret is here in a cave. To the locals it is a mystical and spiritual place reserved for their Gods, in other words you and I. Come; they want to show us inside.”

They followed the two natives towards a cave structure in the near distance. As they entered the two natives performed a short dance after which they proceeded more slowly. Within a few minutes they stopped and knelt to the floor then rose and repeated the actions every twenty steps, all the time kneeling and praying loudly. Drake, watching the flickering torches, waited patiently through all this, at the same time cursing his mounting stomach pains. After rounding a corner Vivendi stopped suddenly and peered into the gloom. “What is it?” growled Drake and yelped in pain as he caught his knee on a rock jutting out from the cavern's wall. “It’s just ahead,” replied the Spaniard. “They won’t go any further with strangers; they believe it would upset their Gods.”

“It looks like a white cloth, a sail even,” said Drake. He decided to investigate and stepped forward and pulled at the shroud, gasping as it fell. Before them was a large metallic disc about three metres in diameter, reaching to the roof of the cave; it shimmered in the candle light and as he looked closer he gasped in admiration, never had he seen such an intricate object.

Despite the gloom, thousands of piercing lights reflected off his torch. Thousands of diamonds were inset into the round object at regular intervals. As he peered closer he saw markings, more like pictures than writing. They looked vaguely familiar; he tried desperately to remember where he had seen such things before then it dawned on him, Chinese! He had once seen an intricate blue painted Ming vase in the Queen's possession. But how could it be from China, the object he thought looked like a shield couldn’t be moved; it was huge and very heavy. How could it have got there? Perhaps China was closer than his fellow explorers thought. What did it mean and how could such a large and valuable item appear on the island unless it was made here? He doubted that even twenty men would have been able to move it. He was puzzled. Turning around he observed that the natives still kept well away. “It’s very impressive Vivendi, amazing.” He breathed. “Its more than just a valuable object,” replied Vivendi slowly. “It’s a shield, see? You can see the indentations of the ridges set to take any blow away from the centre so dissipating the force.”

“No one could lift this.”

“Not one of our people, no,” replied Vivendi. “A giant could, the writings are sacred; I copied them and took them with me the last time. A friend translated them for me as literally meaning that ‘whoever possesses this Shield possesses the earth’.

“It's Chinese writing Vivendi, that I know but it still doesn’t explain what it’s doing here. What on earth does it mean?” asked Drake. He felt puzzled and was becoming disappointed; he saw little value in an immoveable shield. “It has very real significance to our Moors.”

“Moors?”

“They inhabited the south of Spain until recently and once controlled most of the country,” replied Vivendi. “If this is genuine it has iconic and mystical value in the Moors teachings.”

“Well we’ve found it but its not much value to me Vivendi, we can’t move it.”

“I thought you would say that,” smiled Vivendi bending down and carefully manoeuvring the central ring. There was a grating noise and it slowly moved. With a great deal of effort it detached entirely leaving a six-inch hole in the middle of the shield. “This is the core, the Chief showed me how to detach it,” he said lifting the heavy metal circle and passing it to Drake who gasped at the solid weight.

“Gold,” he exclaimed getting both hands underneath it.

“Look on the back”

Drake turned it over and stared at the drawing and words carefully. He could just make out ‘A gift from the heavenly ruler to spread knowledge and understanding’ he read. “You did well to bring me here Vivendi. It has to be protected from falling into the wrong hands.”

“Your job El Draco, I know no one else who can take it safely away from here and protect it particularly from the Moors. A chance to redeem the damage you have done to my nation as we hate the Moors more than we hate you El Draco, so in the end you will do our nation a great service. You accused me of being a traitor; you can now see I have my country's interests at heart.”

“Ironic,” replied Drake gazing at the core. “You are saying that in the wrong hands this would cause devastation to my greatest enemy.”

“The core circle you hold means nothing without the Shield. As you can see the lines cross over into each other to convey the message. There are many other messages here which will mean something profound but they must be kept apart”

“Your countrymen are as capable as I of delivering this.”

“The Moors have infiltrated within our forces' top ranks. Guzman himself is rumoured to have married one, they are everywhere El Draco. They would use this as a lever to overthrow the Christians.”

“You are relying on my greed to separate the two pieces and so protect your nation from the threat of a return to Moorish rule,” replied Drake.

“Correct seňor.”

“No one will ever know the secret of this location unless they are capable of understanding the true meaning of this,” replied Drake lifting the item slowly and wondering whether it could save him. Retrieving the core alone would be fraught with difficulties.

“I know what you are thinking,” replied Vivendi smiling tightly. “There are some trinkets here that should provide sufficient incentive for the real treasure to be left alone. I also brought with me a black dye which can be used to hide the true nature of the core.” He knelt down behind the Shield and produced three golden goblets replete with exquisite Chinese carvings. Whilst Drake examined them Vivendi took the circular core and proceeded to cover it with the dark mixture from a small tin. When he had finished it looked like a dark stone wheel. “With time that will harden and it will take a great deal of rubbing to reveal what’s underneath,” he said. “The core will fit in this bag I brought for the purpose.”

“You have thought of everything sir, its convincing enough,” replied Drake standing up and trying to lift the bag and groaning under the weight. “It’s too heavy.”

“The natives will carry it, you are a God after all,” replied Vivendi gesturing to the two men. “They were told a foreign God would come to reclaim the treasure one day, it’s written on the stones at the entrance to the cave.”

“You didn’t tell me that earlier.”

“I didn’t want you to over-react,” replied Vivendi with a grin.

“Very well,” Drake muttered.

He stopped at the entrance to look around as the two Cimaroons lifted the weight between them. Taking a small piece of parchment he sketched the surrounding area carefully making notes on the cave entrance. A plan formulated in his mind as he quickly wrote a note on the reverse side. They returned to the ships setting out to re-join those that had gone before. First though Drake released Vivendi and returned his ship to him intact, after which he gave orders to head south locking himself in his cabin. He placed the now blackened core in a small wooden chest before sealing it with a padlock.

He had long been a convert to Richard Grenville’s belief in 1574 that ‘Spain had control of the West, Portugal the East, France the North, and now by God's providence, the South is left to England’ So on reaching Panama, Drake despatched Thomas Baskerville with nearly nine hundred men onto a mule track from Nombre de Dios Bay. By taking Panama they would control the link between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, it would give England the control of South America.

Unfortunately, Baskerville’s raid was a disaster with hundreds of men lost; Drake was forced to make the painful the decision to retreat in order to hunt down easier prey. Over the coming week they surveyed the coast for inlets where the Spanish may be hiding, all to no avail. Soon the crew began to agitate for a return home. They sacked a small village called Rio de la Hacha with poor returns and Drake’s physical condition steadily worsened, with permanent stomach cramps he became unable to eat or drink. Finally bowing to inevitable fate he called Templeman to his cabin and gave him strict instructions as to the chest's destination. Three pain filled days later on the twenty eighth of January 1596 at Escudo Island he died, a victim of the ghastly and bloody disease, dysentery. The legendary El Draco was dead, his days of terrorising the Spanish over. Dressed in his armour he was buried at sea by his brother, Thomas, in a lead casket, a league from Porto Bello harbour in Nombre Dios Bay. Thomas was appointed heir and executor of his will and had been given a very specific task.

Unknown to Drake or Templeman a sixty-year old Spanish prisoner, Nuno da Silva, had willingly stayed with the British after Vivendi left. He had watched all the proceedings with great skill and made careful observations. Unknown to Vivendi he had been placed on the Spanish trader by Guzman as a spy and had a mission to perform. On the return voyage to England when all were asleep he had made his way down to the main cabin and opened the cabin door and chest with ease. His instructions were clear and having checked the contents of the chest he carefully removed the tightly drawn parchment.

In Madrid the Spanish celebrated El Draco’s death and King Philip II commissioned an epic poem from Lope de Vega called ‘La Dragontea’. It claimed that with Drake's death the true religion was at last vindicated. The legend of Drake's Shield was subsequently hidden for posterity clouded by the parallel legend of Drake's Drum.