Gaspar Grande island, in Chaguaramas harbour--ah, what a Paradise to
be denied by war--four Spanish line-of-battle ships and a frigate.
Their admiral, Apodaca, was a foolish old devotee. Their crews
numbered 1600 men, 400 of whom were in hospital with yellow fever,
and many only convalescent. The terrible Victor Hugues, it is said,
offered a band of Republican sympathisers from Guadaloupe: but
Chacon had no mind to take that Trojan horse within his fortress.
'We have too many lawless Republicans here already. Should the King
send me aid, I will do my duty to preserve his colony for the crown:
if not, it must fall into the hands of the English, whom I believe
to be generous enemies, and more to be trusted than treacherous
friends.'

What was to be done? Perhaps only that which was done. Apodaca set
fire to his ships, either in honest despair, or by orders from the
Prince of Peace. At least, he would not let them fall into English
hands. At three in the morning Port of Spain woke up, all aglare
with the blaze six miles away to the north-west. Negroes ran and
shrieked, carrying this and that up and down upon their heads.
Spaniards looked out, aghast. Frenchmen, cried, 'Aux armes!' and
sang the Marseillaise. And still, over the Five Islands, rose the
glare. But the night was calm; the ships burnt slowly; and the San
Damaso was saved by English sailors. So goes the tale; which, if it
be, as I believe, correct, ought to be known to those adventurous
Yankees who have talked, more than once, of setting up a company to
recover the Spanish ships and treasure sunk in Chaguaramas. For the
ships burned before they sunk; and Apodaca, being a prudent man,
landed, or is said to have landed, all the treasure on the Spanish
Main opposite.