Throughout the fifteenth century the sailing ship developed. “While in the first quarter,” writes Mr. Oppenheim of English shipping, “we find that men-of-war possess, at the most, two masts and two sails, carry three or four guns, and one or two rudimentary bowsprits, at the close of the same century they are three- or four-masters, with topmasts and topsails, bowsprit and spritsail, and conforming to the characteristics of the type which remained generally constant for more than two centuries.” The English mariner had by this time acquired his honourable reputation. In merchant ships he carried Bordeaux wine, the casks of which became the unit for measurement of their tunnage; even in winter months, we are told, he braved the Bay with pilgrims on tour to the shrine of St. James of Compostella. Large royal ships of over 1000 tons burthen were built, in the early part of the century, in English yards. As builders the Normans seem at this time to have excelled.[2] But the most wonderful development of the science of seamanship in all its branches took place in the Peninsula. Largely through the inspiration of one man the greatest efforts of Spain and Portugal were directed to the cult of navigation and geography, the improvement of shipbuilding, and the discovery of new and distant lands and oceans. A brilliant impetus was given to the study of ship construction by the voyages of Columbus, the Cabots, Vasco di Gama, and other intrepid spirits who, by aid of the compass, braved the moral and physical terrors of far-distant voyages—“fighting immensity with a needle.”
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With the development of artillery the value of the sailing ship for sea warfare came gradually to view. Naval tactics suffered a complete change.
Until the early days of the sixteenth century sea-fights had been land-fights in character; ships came as quickly as possible to close quarters, grappled or charged one another, cut rigging, and essayed to board. The sailor was subservient to the soldier. The gun, represented in the main by serpentines, periers, murderers, and other quick-firing pieces, was primarily a defensive armament, for the defence, firstly, of the entire ship, or, in the event of the waist being captured, of the fortified end citadels or castles. “These castles, which in vessels especially constructed for war came to take the form of a forecastle and a half-deck, were made musket-proof; and being closed athwartship with similarly protected bulkheads, known as ‘cubbridge-heads,’ were impenetrable to boarders; while at the same time, by means of loopholes and quick-firing pieces in-board, they could enfilade the waist with musketry and murdering shot. Thus a ship of the English pattern, at any rate, could rarely be held even if boarders entered, until her ‘cage works’ or protected castles were destroyed by gunfire.”[3] The ship itself, being deep-waisted and built with an exaggerated sheer upwards toward bow and stem, had no continuous deck: the decks were laid on various levels, rising from the waist by steps to the two citadels, an arrangement which did not contribute, as a flush-deck would have done, to the longitudinal strength of the vessel, and which was found inconvenient for the working and transport of ordnance of the heavier sort.
King Henry VIII, in his efforts to possess fighting ships superior to those of Spain, France and Scotland, raised not only artillery but ships themselves to a different rôle. As he personally urged the manufacture of ordnance in this country by the subsidizing of foreign talent, so he sought to improve the design of his ships by inviting Italian shipwrights to come to England and apply their knowledge to the royal vessels. Dockyards were founded at Woolwich, Deptford, and Portsmouth. Large ships were laid down, several were rebuilt, with many improvements embodied in them: chief of these being a new artillery armament. The king had seized the advantages of the sailing ship with broadside fire. “The development of broadside fire,” says Sir Julian Corbett, “was a question of gunnery, of naval architecture, and of seamanship. With Henry’s introduction of heavy guns on board his larger vessels, however, the true note had been struck, and by the end of his reign the first two arts had made great strides. Guns of all patterns and sizes were being cast in England, both in bronze and iron, which were little inferior to those Nelson fought with.” The result of the king’s efforts was seen in the ships laid down in the last years of his reign. The frontispiece of Mr. Oppenheim’s History of the Administration of the Royal Navy is a picture of one of these, the Tiger, a four-masted flush-decked vessel, with no sheer, little top hamper, a long tier of ordnance on the gun deck, and with a beak-head ending in a spur: one of a class “which shows a very great advance on anything before afloat and indicates a steady progression towards the modern type.”
In short, a reversion to a smaller and seaworthier type took place. The large, unstable and unwieldy “great ship,” such as the Henry Grace á Dieu, built on the Spanish model, with lofty ends overweighted with small ordnance, was not effective. A new invention, attributed to Descharges of Brest in 1501, viz. the adaptation of portholes to ordnance along the sides of a ship, perhaps suggested a better form. As the century advanced, as new and far-distant countries appeared on the map, the arts of seamanship and gunnery continuously improved; naval architecture made a corresponding progress. For sea fighting the high-charged and imposing “great ship” gave place to a more perfected type—the galleon. “It was the development of the galleon,” insists the historian, “which changed the naval art from its medieval to its modern state.” The galley, eminently suited to the Mediterranean, where winds were light and slave labour abundant, was found to be increasingly unsuitable for Atlantic warfare; the galley was in danger of being rammed, in any wind, by a strong, quick-turning sailing ship, and suffered from having nearly all its artillery in the bows; moreover, “the galley service was always repugnant to our national temperament.” The galleasse, the hybrid between the oar-driven galley and the sailing ship, suffered from all the disadvantages of the compromise. The great ship had now proved to be cumbrous and expensive, crank and unseaworthy, leewardly and unmanageable in even a moderate breeze.
The galleon therefore became the type favoured by the English navy. Whereas the merchant ship was short in proportion to its beam, the galleon was built long, with a length equal to three times its breadth. It had also a long flat floor like a galley, and was of lower freeboard than a round-ship. “It was also like a galley flush-decked, and would seem always to have had the half-deck carried across the waist so as to make one flush-deck with the old forecastle. In the larger types the quarter-deck was also carried flush from stem to stem, so that latterly at any rate a true galleon had at least two decks and sometimes three. On the upper deck in the earlier types were erected both fore and aft high-castles as in a galleasse, but usually on curved lines, which gave the hull of the old-fashioned galleons the appearance of a half moon.”[4] The depth of hold at the waist was only about two-fifths the beam. Its artillery was light but effective, being composed of light muzzle loaders, a mean between the man-killers and the heavy bombards of an earlier day. Its masts and spars were made heavy and large sail area was given it, for speed and quick manœuvring were the essential qualities which it was hoped to oppose to the lumbering, high-charged ships of Spain. Victory was to be sought by a skilful combination of seamanship and gunnery, rapid fire being poured into an enemy at a convenient range and bearing. “Plenty of room and a stand-off fight” sufficiently defines the sea tactics of the new era.
Throughout the reign of Elizabeth the galleon still remained the favourite type, though opinion differed, and continued to differ through the two following centuries, as to the degree to which it was desirable to “build lofty.” The Hawkins family of Plymouth shipowners carried a great influence in the councils of the navy. Sir John Hawkins, whose experience of shipbuilding and seamanship rendered him a man of importance, was the author of improvements in this respect, as in so many others; “the first Elizabethan men-of-war, the fastest sailers and best sea-boats then afloat, were built to his plans; and from the time of his appointment as Treasurer of the Navy dates the change to the relatively low and long type that made the English ships so much more handy than their Spanish antagonists.”[5] His kinsman, Sir Richard, on the other hand, preferred large and high-charged ships, “not only for their moral effect on the enemy, but for their superiority in boarding and the heavier ordnance and larger crews they would carry. Two decks and a half he considers to be the least a great ship should have, and was of opinion that the fashion for galleasse-built ships—or, as he calls them, ‘race’ ships—in preference to those ‘lofty-built’ had been pushed too far.”[6] Ships with large cage-works had an advantage, he maintained, in affording cover for the crew and positions for quick-firing batteries; his opponents argued that the weight of top-hamper saved by their abolition could be put with better advantage into a heavy artillery.
The advocates of the fast, low-lying ships carried the day. War came with Spain, and there was soon work to show what the English ships could do. The Armada Papers[7] light up for us, by the fitful glare of the cressets of Hawkins and Co., the preparation of the fleet at Plymouth, and show us what state of efficiency the royal ships were in. “The Hope and Nonpariel are both graved, tallowed, and this tide into the road again,” writes William Hawkins to his brother. “We trim one side of every ship by night and the other side by day, so that we end the three great-ships in three days this spring. The ships sit aground so strongly, and are so staunch as if they were made of a whole tree. The doing of it is very chargeable, for that it is done by torchlight and cressets, and in an extreme gale of wind, which consumes pitch, tallow, and firs abundantly.” Not only the few royal ships, but the whole of the force which lies in the Sound is tuned for the fight. “For Mr. Hawkins’ bargain,” writes the Commander-in-Chief to Lord Burghley, “this much I will say: I have been aboard of every ship that goeth out with me, and in every place where any may creep, and there is never a one of them that knows what a leak means. I do thank God that they be in the estate they be in.” The Spanish ships prove to be in a very different condition. High-charged and leewardly, poorly rigged and lightly gunned, they are so hammered and raked by Lord Howard’s well-found fleet that, when bad weather ultimately comes, they are in no condition to combat the elements. With masts and rigging shattered, water-casks smashed, no anchors; short-handed and leaking like sieves, they are hounded northwards to a disaster unparalleled in naval history.
And now, before tracing its evolution through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, let us glance at the warship as it existed at the end of the Elizabethan era, and note its chief constructive features.