The two sections had thus lain for above an hour when the notes of deep sounding bells, which the mule teams invariably bore, were heard in the distance in both directions, betokening the approach of trains from and to Venta Cruz. Then the nearer sound of a horse trotting over the road fell on the listening ears. As it was passing the ambuscade one of the Englishmen, a sailor who had taken too much wine and become reckless, crept up close to the road and raised himself and gazed at the rider. He was a cavalier, well mounted, with a page running at his stirrup. A Cimaroon quickly pulled the sailor down and sat on him. But it was too late. The cavalier had caught sight of the white-shirted object, had recognized it as an Englishman of Drake’s crew, and had put spurs to his horse and galloped off to warn the approaching treasurer’s team of danger. Meeting it on the road the cavalier reported what he had seen, and his conjecture that Drake was in the neighbourhood for plunder of treasure teams to recompense himself for his failure at Nombre de Dios; and he persuaded the treasurer to turn his train out of the way, and let the others that were to follow pass first. Their loss, if “worse befel,” would be of far less account, while they would serve to discover the party in ambush. And just this happened. As the others with the lesser treasure reached the ambush the captains blew their whistles for the attack, and both teams were speedily taken; but the spoil, besides the provisions, netted not more than two “horse-loads” of silver, and Drake’s game was fully discovered. One of the chief carriers told him how their ambush had been exposed by the imprudent sailor and how the cavalier had spread the warning, and counselled his party to “shift for themselves betimes” unless they were able to combat the whole force of Panama before daybreak.
Instead, however, of following this advice Drake took that of the chief of the Cimaroons, which was that he should boldly march on to the town and “make a way with his sword through the enemies.” So, after enjoying a full supper of meat and drink from the captured provisions, the march upon Venta Cruz was begun. The band mounted the mules and thus made the journey comfortably. When within a mile of the town and in a deep woods they dismounted, and leaving the muleteers here, bidding them not to follow at their peril, made the remainder of the way on foot. Half a mile beyond a couple of Cimaroons of the advance guard discovered a Spanish force in ambush in a jungle at the side of the road. They were a body of soldiers with a number of fighting friars of a monastery at Venta Cruz. With this news Drake cautioned his men to move quietly, and pressed on. As they neared the ambuscade the Spanish captain appeared in the roadway before them and called out “Hoo!” Drake replied with the sailor’s response to a hail, “Hallo!” The Spaniard queried, “Que gente?” Drake answered, “Englishmen.” The Spaniard demanded their surrender, "in the name of the ‘King, his master,’" with the promise, as a “gentleman soldier,” of courteous treatment. Drake demanded passage “for the honour of the Queen, his mistress,” and advancing toward the Spaniard fired his pistol in the air. This was taken as a signal by the men in ambush and they let off a volley. Drake was scratched, and several of his men were wounded, one fatally. He blew his whistle, and the English returned shot for shot, with a flight of arrows. Then the Cimaroons took a hand, and under the combined Indian and English warfare the Spaniards were routed. Close by the town gate they made another stand. Drake’s men again scattered them, and with a rush entered the town. Guards were placed at the entrances at either end that the raiders might be secure while here. They stayed only an hour and a half. Drake ordered his men to take no heavy plunder, for they had a long march to make back to their ships, and they were yet in danger of attack. Still, many of them and the Cimaroons managed to make “some good pillage.”