In this great hour of national danger it must be remembered that the nation was at one. Differences of political faith and of religion were abandoned, “there was saddling and arming in village and town, and musters flocking to their posts.” And on the night of the 19th, with a strong wind setting up the Sound, the English ships, and a few of the privateers, were warped out behind the shelter of Mount Edgcumbe, so that they could readily get clear away to sea. And thus it happened that on the morning when the Spaniards caught their first glimpse of the Cornish coast there were forty ships lying in wait for them in Plymouth Sound.
Froude presents a vivid picture of the succeeding hours when he writes, “The day wore on; noon passed and nothing had been seen. At length, towards three in the afternoon, the look-out men on the hill reported a line of sails on the western horizon ... they swept on in a broad crescent ...; and as the hulls showed clear, it was seen that report had not exaggerated the numbers said to be coming. A hundred and fifty large and small were counted and reported to Lord Howard....”
A hundred and fifty, and beneath the haven lay to meet them but forty odd! There was no hesitation, however. One after the other cables were slipped, or anchors weighed on board the English ships, and they dropped away down the Sound, whilst thousands watched their setting forth with beating and anxious hearts, for the magnitude of the undertaking was great enough to appal the stoutest. The night was cloudy, and it was full dusk ere the Spanish admiral saw that Howard was waiting, and prepared for him. The English ships flitted to and fro between the Armada and the land most bewilderingly, “so that the Spaniards could by no means reckon or make sure of their size or number.” Seeing that to enter the Sound without first fighting an action was quite impossible, Medina Sidonia flew the signal to heave to for the night, confident in his superior numbers.
Next day’s dawn found the Spanish fleet and the English ships not yet in touch. The breeze rose with the sun, and about eight o’clock the former got under way with a view of closing with Howard’s ships. But to the Spanish admiral’s astonishment he found the enemy easily took and kept the weather gauge, and either approached or left at will his clumsy “high towered, broad-bowed galleons, which moved like Thames barges piled with hay; while the sharp, low English sailed at once two feet to the Spaniard’s one, and shot away as if by magic in the eye of the wind.”
The action, which, with short intervals, was destined to last for almost a week, commenced by Howard’s flag-ship, the Ark, and three others of the English vessels running down upon the Spanish rear line, and whilst traversing it “firing successively into each galleon as they passed, then wearing round and returning over the same course.”
The Spanish commanders were struck with astonishment, and with the English “firing four shots to one,” the huge galleons were raked again and again, and their over-numerous crews thrown into confusion. Meanwhile the rest of the gallant little English ships, the masts of some of which scarce came above the poops of their enemies, were one by one getting into action on similar conditions.
The fight went on through the long morning and into the afternoon, with the Spaniards always wearing and endeavouring to get at close quarters with their nimble foes, but always failing to do so. The Spanish ships being to leeward and canting over to the wind found their shots fly high over the smaller English craft, and their guns could not be sufficiently depressed to overcome this disadvantage.
Towards evening a ship was detached from the English fleet to carry a report of the events of the day to Lord Henry Seymour, and a messenger rode off in hot haste to London to ask urgently for more powder and ammunition, of which the English were already running short. During the night Drake went in pursuit of some vessels which apparently had left the main body of the Armada, and Howard himself and his other ships clung close to the Spaniards “sparing powder, but firing an occasional shot to prevent the enemy from recovering from their confusion.”
Terrified by these tactics and the superb seamanship of Howard’s ships, the Spanish huddled together like a flock of frightened sheep, and in the night several vessels fell foul of one another, and much damage was done in consequence. Amongst those which met with such misadventure were the Santa Catalina and the Capitana. The latter, a galleon of 1,200 tons, carrying the flag of Pedro de Valdez, the only commander on the Spanish side with any reliable or extensive knowledge of the Channel, was so damaged that she was abandoned to her fate (though the Spanish admiral-in-chief, Medina Sidonia, sent a boat to take off her very essential commander, who gallantly refused to desert his ship), and next morning fell a prey to Drake on his return from chasing what had proved to be not Armada galleons but Flemish traders. The prize proved of unexpected value. We have already mentioned what ultimately became of the Capitana, but an interesting sidelight regarding the treatment in those days, of prisoners of war, more especially foreigners—who were looked upon by the lower classes of English people as little better than savages—is afforded by a letter from Gilbert to Walsingham dated a few days before the final scattering of the Armada. He wrote, “The cost of keeping them (the Capitana prisoners) was great, the peril great, the discontent of the country people greatest of all,” and so, “to save expense, they were fed on the refuse of their own provisions, which was too bad to be taken away, the fish stinking, and the bread full of worms.”
It is not inconceivable that had the rough-dealing fishermen of Brixham had their way with regard to the Spaniards, the difficulty of feeding them would not have long troubled those in authority. Prisoners of war in those days in any country found little consideration if unable themselves to pay ransom, or if their rank was not sufficiently high to make redemption probable.