In the beginning of the fight the little Revenge had only one hundred men free from sickness and able to fight, four-score and ten sick men lay in the hold upon the ballast. These hundred men had had to sustain the volleys, boarding, and hand-to-hand encounters for sixteen hours on end, whereas the Spaniards were well supplied with fresh men brought from every squadron; arms and powder they had at will, and the comfort of knowing they had strong friends near. The English saw no hope before them—only honourable death, if so be; their ship's masts were all beaten overboard, all her tackle cut asunder, her upper works altogether razed, so that she was well-nigh brought even with the water, and could not stir except as she was moved by tide and wave. All her powder was now spent to the last barrel, all her pikes broken, forty of her best men slain, and most of the rest sorely hurt. For they had borne eight hundred charges of heavy artillery and rounds of small shot without number, and at last began to stare at one another as men desperate who have lost their last chance of life.
The Armada were now floating all round the Revenge, not too near, for they suspected danger from her still.
Then Sir Richard sent for the master-gunner, whom he knew to be a most resolute man, and bade him split and sink the ship.
"And Sir Richard cried in his English pride,
'We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
As may never be fought again!
We have won great glory, my men,
And a day less or more, at sea or ashore,—
We die—does it matter when?
Sink me the ship, Master Gunner, sink her, split her in twain!
Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"
—TENNYSON.
So Sir Richard sought to persuade the company, or as many as he could induce, to yield themselves unto God, and to the mercy of none else. The master-gunner readily consented, and so did divers others; but the captain and the master were of another opinion, and besought Sir Richard to have care of them, for many of them might live yet to serve their prince and country. They reminded him that the ship had six foot of water in her hold, three shot under water, which were so weakly stopped that with the first working of the sea she must needs sink; and she was, besides, so crushed and bruised that she could never be removed out of the place.
As the matter was thus in dispute, and as Sir Richard, where he lay, still refused to hearken to any reason, the master was convoyed aboard the General Don Alphonso Baçan, who promised that all their lives should be saved, the crew should be sent to England, and the better sort should pay such reasonable ransom as their estate would bear, and in the meantime might be free from galley or prison. The Don agreed to this so much the rather as he desired to get possession of Sir Richard, whom for his notable valour he greatly honoured and admired.
On this message being delivered, the crew naturally wished to accept the terms and drew back from the master-gunner, who, in a frenzy of grief for his admiral's dishonour, as he thought, drew his sword and would have slain himself on the spot, had not his friends withheld him from it by force and locked him into his cabin.
Then Don Alphonso asked Sir Richard to come out of the Revenge, the ship being marvellous unsavoury, filled with blood and dead bodies and wounded men, like any slaughter-house. To which Sir Richard replied that the Spaniard might do with his body what he list, for he esteemed it not. As they bore him out of the ship, he swooned; when he recovered, he was on the Spaniard's deck, and looking about him said, "I desire you, gentlemen, to pray for me."
The Spanish admiral used Sir Richard with all humanity and tended him well, highly commending his valour and worthiness; but the English hero died on the third day and was buried at sea with all honour.
As he lay surrounded by Spanish hidalgos, who were trying to comfort him in his agony, the dying man half raised himself and said: