The naval supremacy that Admiral Blake had done so much to achieve was not to remain inert or valueless. Proud, priest-ridden Spain, the enemy of truth, righteousness, and freedom of worship, had to be crippled and humbled. A new naval force was created and organised in 1654, and Blake, at the head of a fleet, sailed from England, with sealed orders, towards the end of that year. He first visited Cadiz, whence he sailed in pursuit of the Duke of Guise, who was understood to have gone to Naples with hostile intent. The duke was not there, and Blake next proceeded to Leghorn, where he demanded and obtained from the Grand Duke of Tuscany a large sum of money as compensation to the owners of ships, that had been sold there by the Princes Rupert and Maurice. The admiral’s name and fame had preceded him, and his irresistible power caused consternation among the states bordering on the Mediterranean. Having settled with the Duke of Tuscany, he next sent in his account against the sovereign pontiff, Alexander VII., for ships sold by the same princes, in ports under the sovereignty of His Holiness. The admiral did not object to foreign coin in payment, and accordingly received on board the sixty-gun ship George, the sum of twenty thousand pistoles, in whole or part payment of his Roman account. He next sailed southwards, with the desire of bringing the piratical powers of North Africa to a better state of mind and behaviour. The Bey of Tunis resisted Blake’s overtures, and left the admiral the only alternative of battering his forts and burning all the corsair ships he could get at, both of which he did. He visited in succession Tripoli, Venice, Malta, and Versailles, and was received at some places with honour,—at others with fear and constrained hospitality. He may be regarded as the pioneer, the first of the long line of English admirals that entered with pride the noble bay of Valetta, as an English possession. At Algiers he ransomed, for a moderate sum, a number of Englishmen who had fallen into the hands of the Algerine corsairs. A cheery illustration of the good heart of the jolly tars of the time was given while the squadron lay off Algiers. A number of captives, pursued by Moors, swam from the shore to the English ships, and were readily hauled on board, and found to be Dutchmen. The English sailors raised a subscription for them,—many of the men giving a dollar out of their wages,—and the Dutchmen were sent home happy and grateful.
Admiral Blake next touched at Malaga, and reached the Bay of Cadiz in June. By this time his ships were getting much in need of overhauling and repair, and stores were run out, particularly water, renewed supply of which was often obtained with difficulty; and, most distressing of all, the hero’s health and strength were failing greatly, which naturally caused sore depression of spirits. In a touching letter to Cromwell, dated “Aboard the George in Cascaes Road, August 30, 1655,” he writes, after stating some of the difficulties he was encountering: “Our only comfort is that we have a God to lean upon, although we walk in darkness and see no light. I shall not trouble your Highness with any complaints of myself, of the indisposition of my body or the troubles of my mind; my many infirmities will one day, I doubt not, plead for me, or against me, so that I may be free of so great a burden, consoling myself meantime in the Lord, and in the firm purpose of my heart with all faithfulness and sincerity, to discharge the trust while reposed in me.”
Although sick and broken, and having well earned his rest, his great heart quailed not nor failed. Cromwell had lost a number of his principal commanders by death or defection, and Blake honoured the draft upon such powers as remained with him. He superintended the operations in the dockyard and arsenal when ashore. At the end of February 1656, he was again afloat in the Naseby. He took on board as his colleague Edward Montague, afterwards Earl of Sandwich. The departing fleet sailed down channel, westward. In the waning light of the bleak brief day, the grave, grand, and heroic patriot took his last look of the hills and vales and rock-bound shores of old England—the country that he had served so well, and that was honoured in having such a son.
His first duty after leaving England was of a diplomatic nature, being to effect, if possible, a satisfactory permanent treaty with Portugal. He left a part of his squadron to watch Cadiz, and came to an anchor with the remainder of the fleet at the mouth of the Tagus. He kept a lookout for the homeward-bound Spanish argosies, and had his patience severely tried. The squadron suffered greatly from a succession of violent gales. Running short of provisions and water, the admiral proceeded northwards to Portugal for supplies, leaving the watching squadron of seven ships under the command of Captain Stayner. They had not long parted company ere the expected fleet was sighted—four splendid Spanish galleons, and two Indian merchant ships, laden amongst them with products rich and rare, in gold and silver, pearls and gems, indigo, cochineal, tobacco, etc. It was on the evening of 8th September that the homeward-bounds caught sight of Stayner’s frigates, which they at first mistook for a protecting guard that was to convoy them into port in safety and glad triumph. They were speedily undeceived by Stayner swooping down upon them. They resisted desperately, and there were six hours of hard fighting, in which heavy loss in life and treasure was sustained. The treasure ships had on board as passengers high dignitaries and members of some of the proudest families of Spain and its possessions; one of the ships plundered first, was afterwards the burning tomb of a viceroy and his family who had sailed in it. Montague took home the prizes. The treasure was forwarded to London in thirty-eight heavily-laden waggons, many of them freighted with gold and silver. Under strong military escort, it passed along the streets to the Tower, amid the ringing cheers of the crowd who turned out to welcome its arrival.
Blake, amid hardships and trials that he was now ill fitted to stand against, kept faithfully his post off Cadiz. In the spring of 1657 he made a run to Tetuan, and gave a salutary word of warning to the Barbary pirates, that had a restraining effect upon these marauders. “From information received,” but from what source is not communicated, Admiral Blake had reason to believe that another bullion fleet had crossed the Atlantic, and had taken shelter somewhere about the Canary Islands: hither he repaired with his squadron. It was even so, the silver fleet had taken shelter in the strongly fortified harbour of Santa Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe. The spacious harbour is of horse-shoe shape, and was dominated by a strong castle above the inner portion of the area, flanked on each side by a series of forts, connected with earthworks, available for musketry. The water was so deep that the ships could lie close under the forts. The castle and forts were well supplied with guns. The galleons also had their broadsides turned to the narrow entrance of the harbour. To an enemy the harbour entrance seemed the veritable jaws of death. The governor believed his position impregnable, and the precious fleet in the harbour unassailable and absolutely secure. The redoubtable admiral was prostrate from illness, but, with indomitable spirit, he rose from his couch to preside at a council of war. The plan of attack decided on was, for the admiral to lead and direct the bombardment of the castle and the forts, and for Captain Richard Stayner to direct his force against the galleons. Blake and Stayner had twenty-five ships between them. For his second’s share in the action Blake chose the innovation, as some authorities considered it, that he had introduced, of attacking strong castles and forts from the floating wooden walls of Old England. The attacking ships were received by a tremendous simultaneous volley from the whole of the guns of the castle, the forts, and the galleys, that could be brought to bear upon them.
It was a battle of gunnery, of weight of metal, of rapidity and precision of delivery. In these particulars the English had the advantage. The forts were knocked about the ears of the gunners that manned them, and silenced one after another. That morning the ships’ companies had prayers before breakfast, and the terrible day’s work commenced immediately after. About noon, Blake had disposed of the land forces so satisfactorily as to be at liberty to assist Stayner in completing the destruction of the galleons, which would have been brought out and carried away as prizes, had this been possible. About two o’clock the work of destruction had been completed. Two of the Spanish ships went down in the course of the attack, and the whole of the others were burned. A favourable change in the wind carried the victors out with flying colours, leaving the costly contents and strong defences of the harbour utterly wrecked. The English only sustained the almost incredibly small loss of about fifty killed, and about three times that number wounded. Of this action the historian Clarendon says: “The whole action was so miraculous that all men who knew the place wondered that any sober man, with what courage soever endowed, would ever undertake it; and they could hardly persuade themselves to believe what they had done, whilst the Spaniards comforted themselves with the belief that they were devils, and not men, who had destroyed them in such a manner.”
This brilliant and daring feat of arms caused the highest degree of admiration and delight at home. Cromwell ordered a day of public thanksgiving for the victory; a ring of the value of five hundred guineas was voted to Blake by Parliament; and a gratuity of one hundred pounds to the captain who had brought the intelligence; thanks were also voted to the officers, sailors, and soldiers who had been concerned in the action.
THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL BLAKE.
It was the great admiral’s last battle with mortal foes! He was approaching to close quarters with “the last great enemy.” On his way home he paid a visit to Morocco, where he exercised his influence, in further restraining the Sallee rovers, and in procuring the deliverance of some of their Christian captives. He was completely successful in his negotiations, and at last, suffering much, wearied and worn-out, he turned his prow towards “home.” Cromwell’s letter, the thanks of Parliament, and the jewel of honour met him on the way, but he was past saving by such solace. While crossing the Bay of Biscay, his illness increased rapidly without check. When England was sighted he was dying, and while others were delighting in the vision of the long-looked-for shores, his noble spirit passed away. He died on board his ship, the St. George, on the 17th August 1657, when he was just entering his sixtieth year. “The St. George,” says Mr. Hepworth Dixon in his Life of Blake, “rode with its precious burden into the Sound; and just as it came into full view of the eager thousands crowding the beach, the pier-head, the walls of the citadel, or darting in countless boats over the smooth waters between St. Nicholas and the docks, ready to catch the first glimpse of the hero of Santa Cruz, and salute him with a true English welcome,—he, in his silent cabin, in the midst of his lion-hearted comrades, now sobbing like little children, yielded up his soul to God.”