There was harder work for the Dreadnought in the great battle of Tuesday off Portland Bill. First came the fierce brush in the morning, when Drake and Lord Howard and the leaders of the English fleet, after a daring attempt to work in between the Spanish fleet and the Dorset coast, had to tack at the last moment, baffled for want of sea room, and were closed with by the enemy in the act of going about. On came the galleons exultantly, their crews shouting and cheering, amid a blare of trumpets and ruffle of drums, in full confidence to run down and sink the lighter built English vessels. It was a moment of extreme peril:—but at the very last, suddenly, the fortune of the day changed. As the Spaniards seemed to be upon them the wind shifted, the English sails filled, ship by ship and all together, and then stretching out with bowsprits pointing seaward, the Revenge, Victory, Ark Royal, Dreadnought, and the others safely cleared the enemy, pouring in so fierce a fire as they passed that the Spanish ships had to sheer off. This was the first fight of the day. Later, when the wind, going round with the sun, shifted again and gave Drake and Howard the weather gage, came on the most desperate encounter with the Armada that our ships had yet seen. Lord Howard in the Ark Royal and Drake in the Revenge, with the Dreadnought, the Lion, the Victory, and the Mary Rose near at hand, driving ahead before the wind, pushed into the thick of the Spanish main body, and attacked the enemy, in a long and furious battle that lasted until the afternoon sun was nearing the horizon.
A third day of battle was yet to come—Thursday’s hot fight off the back of the Isle Wight, and here again the Dreadnought took her full share of what was done, until the long summer day drew to its close and the Armada “gathered in a roundel,” sullenly stood off eastward, proposing to fight no more until the coast of Flanders had been made.
Next morning the Dreadnought’s captain was summoned on board Lord Howard’s flagship, the Ark Royal. He returned “Sir George,” knighted by the Lord High Admiral on the quarter-deck, in the presence of the enemy.
Sunday night saw the fireship attack, so disastrous to the Armada, and next morning followed the crowning victory of the week’s campaign, the great fight off Gravelines of Monday, the 29th of July, “the great battle which, more distinctly perhaps than any battle of modern times, has moulded the history of Europe—the battle which curbed the gigantic power of Spain, which shattered the Spanish prestige and established the basis of England’s empire.” Here the Dreadnought distinguished herself again, fighting in the thick of the fray from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon, within pistol-shot of the enemy most of the time.
From six till nearly eight the ships of Drake’s squadron had to bear the brunt of the fight, with, for antagonists, Medina Sidonia himself and his chief captains, who had gathered to stand by their admiral. Trying to rally the Armada after the panic of the night, this gallant band had at first, from before daybreak, anchored in a group, to act as rear-guard to the Spanish fleet, firing signal guns to stop their flying consorts, and sending pinnaces to order the fugitives back. Then Hawkins in the Victory, with the Dreadnought, the Mary Rose, and Swallow, and other ships unnamed, came up and struck in. Now moving ahead through her own smoke to plunge into the mêlée and come to the rescue of some hard-pressed consort, now working tack for tack parallel with and firing salvo after salvo at short range into some towering galleon or huge water-centipede-like galleass—so the hours of that eventful forenoon wore through on the Dreadnought’s powder-begrimed decks. “Sir George Beeston behaved himself valiantly,” records the official Relation of Proceedings, drawn up for the Lord High Admiral. In vain did the most formidable of the Spanish galleons try to close and board. Ship after ship was forced back with shattered bulwarks and splintered sides, and with their scuppers spouting blood, after each English broadside, as the round shot crashed in among the masses of Spanish soldiery, packed on board the galleons as closely almost as they could stand.
More Spaniards joined their admiral as Sidonia passed north, the Spanish rear and centre squadrons forming together a long straggling array, among the ships of which, from nine to after one o’clock, the Revenge, Victory, Dreadnought, Triumph, Ark Royal, and the rest charged through and through fighting both broadsides. Shortly after two o’clock, the English ships passed on, pressing forward to overtake the Spanish van group of galleons. By four o’clock the battle was won, but firing went on till nearly six, “when every man was weary with labour, and our cartridges spent and our ammunition wasted” (i.e. used up).
Once more the Dreadnought followed the fortunes of Drake’s flag to battle; again, too, as Captain Fenner’s ship. In the year after the Armada she had her part in escorting the Corunna expedition, the “counter-Armada,” designed to beat up the quarters of the enemy at home and attempt the wresting of Portugal from the Spanish yoke. A landing party of “Dreadnoughts” fought ashore. Led by Drake and the general of the soldiers, Sir John Norris, they drove the Spaniards before them. “Unto every volly flying round their ears,” says old Stow, “the generall, turning his face towards the enemie would bow and vale his bonnet, saying ‘I thank you, Sir! I thank you, Sir!’ to the great admiration of all his campe and of Generall Drake.” The wine vaults of Corunna, however, interposed on behalf of Spain. Soldiers and sailors alike broke in and got drunk, and all that could be done after that was to reship the men and write the campaign down a failure.
In the attack on Brest in 1594, when Sir Martin Frobisher met his death, the Dreadnought had her share. Two years after that she fought with Essex and Raleigh in the grand attack on Cadiz—this time as one of the picked ships of Sir Walter Raleigh’s own “inshore squadron.” She sailed with Sir Walter again after that in the celebrated “Islands Voyage”; and then the curtain rings down on the memorable days of the story of the Dreadnought of the Great Queen’s fleet. The old ship lasted afloat (after an expensive rebuild in James the First’s reign) until the time of the Civil War. She figured in the interim in the Rochelle Expedition and also in one of Charles the First’s Ship-money fleets. The Dreadnought of St. Bartholomew’s Day and Matthew Baker made her last cruise of all in the year of Marston Moor.
Six Dreadnoughts in all have flown the pennant since England’s Armada Dreadnought passed away.
“OLD DREADNOUGHT’S” DREADNOUGHT