FORECASTLE OF THE “GREAT HARRY”
(“GRÂCE DE DIEU”).
In those days no national navies, properly speaking, existed in England, France, or northward. When a monarch wished to transport troops by water to some other land, or make a naval expedition or campaign, he fitted out the ships that belonged to the crown as the king’s personal property, and compelled his subjects to furnish the rest, just as his feudal provinces and cities and lords were expected to equip and bring to his standard any land forces required. It was to systematize this method somewhat in England that William the Conqueror “established the Cinque Ports, and gave them certain privileges on condition of their furnishing 52 ships, with 24 men in each, for 15 days, in cases of emergency.” Now and then, at first, Englishmen were disposed to resist the “arrest” of ships, which might easily mean the ruin of their business; and special laws had to be made to quell this reluctance. Another quaint and significant feature of that practice was this: In every fleet one or more ships were set apart as “royal,” and either the king or his representatives occupied them with court ceremony to carry out the fiction of royal dominion over the sea as well as upon the land. It naturally followed in England that after her navy had shown its power, and signalized it especially by a brilliant victory over Spain in 1380, Edward III should have assumed as an additional title “King of the Seas”—an act which had far-reaching consequences.
During the fifteenth century something like an established navy was foreshadowed; but it was not until the reign of Henry VII, when, at the end of the fifteenth century, the whole world was exploring the oceans and awakening to the importance of sea power, that the first vessel, properly called a national war-ship, was built, equipped, manned, and sustained at government expense by England. This was the Great Harry—a floating fortress rather than a ship; for, with her towering, overweighted “castles” fore and aft, she was unseaworthy, and came near being sunk by a slight rolling which poured the water into her lower ports.
But a better known “Great Harry” was the Henri Grâce de Dieu, built by Henry VIII. This king was the real founder of the British navy, providing for it many good ships, dock-yards, trained officers, and regularly enlisted crews. The advantage of this organization and the superiority of English seamanship were demonstrated in the next reign by the defeat of the Spanish Armada.
England was then at war with Spain, and Philip II thought to end the matter by means of the greatest expedition ever heard of. It began to be prepared in 1587 under the title of the Most Fortunate Armada,[6] but an English squadron under Drake attacked the rendezvous at Cadiz, destroyed over one hundred vessels and huge quantities of stores, and then so ravaged the neighboring coasts as to delay Spain’s project for a whole season.
In midsummer of 1588, however, after an unlucky start, in which it was driven back by storms, the dreaded Armada appeared in the English Channel, like a close flock of huge birds drifting along the British coast. It consisted of about 130 ships, seven of which exceeded 1000 tons burden, and numerous small craft, and was armed with nearly 3000 cannon. Its commander was the Duke of Medina Sidonia, who was a most incompetent man for the post, and it bore, besides nearly 10,000 sailors and galley-slaves, over 10,000 soldiers; but this naval force was not intended to attack England until after it had ferried over from Belgium the Spanish army of the Duke of Parma.
To such a force as this England opposed a miserably small fleet—only 34 vessels that could be called ships; but she hastily armed as many more smaller ones as she could, amid great fright and excitement, until finally Admiral Howard commanded 80 or 90 ships and boats. There was no deficiency in his men, however,—the pick of English “sea-dogs” was at his call; and among the leaders of the pack were men we have already met elsewhere—Francis Drake, John Hawkins, Martin Frobisher, and others.
What a sight it must have been on that August day as these ships, flying the huge banners of Castile, standing high out of the water, with lofty “castles” forward and aft, gaudy with carving and color, the light rippling here from silken pennants and flashing there from shining cannon or huge poop-lanterns, moved past the southern headlands of England, watched by half-raging, half-fearful crowds! And how mystified and indignant must these watching country people have been when Admiral Howard, their only defender, calmly let the Armada sail by Plymouth, where the English fleet lay hid in the Solent, and Captain Drake coolly insisted upon finishing a game of bowls before he would go down to his waiting frigate.
