When the enemy saw that the soldiers were deserting the almiranta, they lowered their lanchas and entered it. One Dutchman, climbing up to the maintopsail, lowered the banner of Christ and ran up that of Count Mauricio, the sight of which caused us great anguish. Throughout that battle our men did not fire a musket or espingarda,[5] and they had none on the second day, for they tried to escape by swimming. Our men set fire to this galleon, the almiranta; and when the Dutch saw that it was burning, they left it, and the fire did its duty until it converted the vessel into ashes. The flagship held out longer, but the soldiers did not wait for the Dutch to board, for some of them escaped from the galleon by swimming. Thirteen or fourteen of them were drowned, among them Christobal de Fegueredo. Some jumped into a small skiff belonging to the galleon, for they had taken all the boats from the city, so that they had none in which to come thence. The galleon was left with a few men, who were no longer firing and were silent. At this juncture, the general left by a port, as best he could. Reaching shore, he ordered the galleon to be set afire, which was done. It began to burn, to our very great sorrow and to the exultation of the enemy, for it was an unusually fine vessel; it carried thirty-six pieces of artillery and a quantity of ammunition. When the fire reached the powder-magazine, so great was the noise made, that the island of Malaca trembled and the houses shook. A cloud of smoke arose to the heavens which hid the clouds, and in that instant we lost sight of the galleon.

In the four galleons ninety-two pieces of artillery were lost. The wounded and dead reached one hundred. The enemy were insolent and victorious, and, although we had done them some damage, they nevertheless attained their purpose, not only of preventing the relief of Maluco, but of destroying the Portuguese squadron—and that without the necessity of boarding any galleon, for which there was no such need; because, before they could reach the galleys, these were abandoned.

As soon as the enemy were discovered, many said that it would be advisable to mount some pieces on the island, with some gabions, in order to attack the enemy, and defend the galleons, which would have been an admirable relief. But it did not have the desired effect, for only one piece was mounted, and that late; and no one cared to guard it, until Antonio Pinto de Fonseca, inspector of forts and one who insisted urgently that the pieces be mounted, found a homicide, who with other criminals, guarded the piece. He did considerable injury to the enemy, for he fired from a short distance and with safety. Had there been six guns, they would have sunk the enemy; but that was not the first or the last act of carelessness.

On the twelfth of the month, the galleons were converted into ashes, and the Maluco relief expedition was destroyed. After the battle and disaster many quarrels arose among the nobles by land and sea, over the question who was to blame. Each one blamed the other, attributing the loss to many excesses that they mentioned. The truth is that such excesses existed, and they and our sins were the cause of so great a chastisement.

On February 25, Don Juan de Silva, governor and captain-general of the Filipinas, reached the strait with ten galleons, four galleys, and one patache. The Dutch were informed of his coming, for having captured Juan Gallegos, a pilot who came from Macao in a patache, he told them the plans of the governor. Thereupon the enemy took refuge a week beforehand. They had been awaiting two vessels that were coming from China with all the wealth of Yndia; and the Portuguese considered it a foregone conclusion that these would fall into the hands of the enemy. They had resolved to land on the island of Bintan or Pulo Timón and burn the galleons, so that the enemy should not benefit therefrom. For that purpose they sent Captain Fernando Acosta to Malaca. But at the news of the governor’s coming, the enemy abandoned their station and left a free passage to the ships, which arrived one day after the governor. It is reported that the two vessels had ten days of contrary southeast winds which prevented them from reaching the strait sooner, where their danger was. But God our Lord did better, and He deprived the enemy of the prize, which would have enriched them enormously, and allowed them to make war on Europe.

For that good result and benefit given to all Yndia by Don Juan de Silva, the Portuguese were extremely thankful, and accordingly received him in Malaca under a pall and with great acclamation. On March 26 all confessed that God had delivered them from the Dutch by his means; and they hoped that he would drive the enemy from these seas later. But death, which comes when God pleases, finished all their hopes; for it brought him to his bed, and from that to a grave on April 19, 1616, of a fever that carried him off in eleven days. During the course of his sickness, the city made a procession from the asse or cathedral to [the church of] La Misericordia,[6] praying our Lord for his health. At his death, they bewailed him with extreme sorrow.

Before dying he saw that his end was near, and accordingly prepared himself by acts of faith and penitence, receiving the sacraments. He ordered his body to be embalmed, and taken on the royal galley to Manila, and thence to Jerez de los Caballeros,[7] where he founded a convent of discalced Carmelite nuns. In the meanwhile the body should be deposited in the residence or houses of the Society of Jesus. Accordingly, in the residence of Malaca they celebrated the church services for him. At the end of nine days, the body was taken to the galleys anchored in the strait of Sincapura. There it was received with a salute on May 2. On the fourth, sail was set toward Manila.

The fleet was composed of ten galleons, four galleys, one patache, and three frigates. It carried three hundred pieces of artillery, eight companies of Spanish soldiers, five hundred Japanese, two hundred volunteers, sixty artillerymen, and two hundred sailors. [Without signature.[8]]

Letter from Father Juan de Ribera,[9] rector of the residence of the Society of Jesus at Manila, in which he gives account of his voyage to and from India, and of the unfortunate fate of the four galleons that he took thence.

We set sail at Cabite November twenty-one, the day of the Virgin. In a fortnight we entered the strait of Sincapura, having followed the new route, which is called that of China. It is a very wide channel, some forty or fifty brazas deep. We anchored at Malaca on Tuesday, December nine, by our account, but on Wednesday by that of Malaca. We left there on Christmas eve, with favorable weather. In the neighborhood of Punta de Gale [or Galle], which is located in Ceylan, we experienced a heavy storm. When that had subsided, the currents carried us to the islands of Mal-Divar [i.e., Maldives], a voyage from which few emerge in safety. We lost our reckoning, and were in great need of wood and water. But by God’s help, after having approached one of those islands, our necessity was relieved by some Malabar pirates for money. We were sailing among that great forest of islands when we became becalmed, the peril most feared by pilots. When we were all grieving over that, the chief of the Lascars, a Moro by nation, and religion, arose. Taking a dish in his hand, he begged us all for an alms for our Lady of Guadalupe of the city of Cochin,[10] assuring us that she would give us wind. He pledged himself to give double the alms collected, even if she did not give the wind. Much surprised in so great confidence in a Moro, and all of us being encouraged, he collected in a short time eighteen pesos, and after folding them in a cloth, he tied them to the mizzen-masthead begging the Virgin to fulfil her promise. The fact was that from that day the wind to navigate (little or much) never failed us, until we reached Cochin. That was on January twenty-three, and on entering the bar there, we met a fleet of Malabar pirates who were sufficiently powerful to oppose us. But God so disposed that we came upon them when they were tired out, as we afterward learned, by a battle that they had waged for the space of two days with another pirate, also a Malabar—who, conquered by them at last, scuttled his ship and went down with all on board, in order not to fall into their hands. For that reason they did not attack us so quickly, and we had time to enter Cochin.