More importantly, however, to Governor Torres belongs the credit for completing Castillo de San Marcos. Torres saw the last stones go into place for the water battery—bright yellow coquina that was in contrast to weathered masonry almost a quarter of a century old. In August 1695 the workmen finally moved out of the Castillo to another job: a seawall that would keep storm tides out of the city.
The pile of stone on which Cendoya had planned to spend some 70,000 pesos and which Hita had estimated would cost a good 80,000 if built elsewhere, ended up costing at least 138,375 pesos, a tremendous sum impossible to translate into today’s money. But more than the money, it was the blood, sweat, and hardship of the Florida soldier that paid the cost. For the funds came out of money never paid. Let the Castillo be his monument!
And what did completion of this citadel mean? Only a year later, soldiers gaunt with hunger slipped into the church and left an unsigned warning for the governor: If the enemy came, they intended to surrender, for they were starving.
Weapons of the 17th and 18th centuries may seem crude and primitive to a late-20th-century observer, but they could rain death and destruction on any foe. See the feature on Ordnance, pages [44]-45, for more details.
Defending San Marcos
The test of the Castillo’s strength was not long in coming. Relations with France had become peaceful, but incursions by the English-led Indians kept the backcountry inflamed. As tensions increased, Gov. José de Zúñiga y Cerda looked at the St. Augustine defenses with an experienced eye. Zúñiga knew, after a military career spanning 28 years, that strong walls were not enough. The Castillo’s guns were ancient and obsolete—many of them unserviceable. The powder from México so fouled the gun barrels that after “four shots, the Ball would not go in the Cannon.” Arquebuses, muskets, powder, and shot were in short supply.
Once again Captain Ayala sailed directly to Spain to ask for aid. It was a race against time, for the War of the Spanish Succession with France and Spain allied against England had broken out. Gov. James Moore of Carolina lost no time moving against St. Augustine in 1702. If he could capture the Castillo, he would clap an English lock on the Straits of Florida and forestall a possible Spanish-French attack on Charleston.
On the way south, Moore’s forces destroyed the Franciscan missions in the Guale country. At St. Augustine they avoided the Castillo and occupied the town, whose inhabitants had fled to the fort. South and west of its walls, where the town approached the fort, the Spaniards burned many structures that could have hidden the enemy advance.
Moore’s 500 Englishmen and 300 Indians vastly outnumbered the 230 soldiers and 180 Indians and Negroes in the Castillo’s garrison, but Moore was ill-equipped to besiege the Castillo. He settled down to await the arrival of more artillery from Jamaica, and thus matters stood when four Spanish men-of-war arrived and blocked the harbor entrance, bottling up Moore’s fleet of eight small vessels. Moore burned his ships, left most of his supplies, and retreated overland to the St. Johns River. He left St. Augustine in ashes, but the Castillo and its people survived.