But it was not so to be. Sir Thomas Howard, as he lay in the Downs, descried the former making for Scotland, and immediately gave chase, “and there was a sore battle. The Englishmen were fierce, and the Scots defended themselves manfully, and ever Andrew blew his whistle to encourage his men. Yet, for all that, Lord Howard and his men, by clean force, entered the main deck. There the English entered on all sides, and the Scots fought sore on the hatches; but, in conclusion, Andrew was taken, being so sore wounded that he died there, and then the remnant of the Scots were taken, with their ship.” Meantime Sir Edward Howard had encountered the other piratical ship, and though the Scots defended themselves like “hardy and well-stomached men,” succeeded in boarding it. The prizes were taken to Blackwall, and the prisoners, 150 in number, being all left alive, “so bloody had the action been,” were tried at Whitehall, before the [pg 281]Bishop of Winchester and a council. The bishop reminded them that “though there was peace between England and Scotland, they, contrary to that, as thieves and pirates, had robbed the king’s subjects within his streams, wherefore they had deserved to die by the law, and to be hanged at the low-water mark. Then, said the Scots, ‘We acknowledge our offence, and ask mercy, and not the law,’ and a priest, who was also a prisoner, said, ‘My lord, we appeal from the king’s justice to his mercy.’ Then the bishop asked if he were authorised by them to say thus, and they all cried, ‘Yea, yea!’ ‘Well, then,’ said the bishop, ‘you shall find the king’s mercy above his justice; for, where you were dead by the law, yet by his mercy he will revive you. You shall depart out of this realm within twenty days, on pain of death if ye be found after the twentieth day; and pray for the king.’ ” James subsequently required restitution from Henry, who answered “with brotherly salutation” that “it became not a prince to charge his confederate with breach of peace for doing justice upon a pirate and thief.” But there is no doubt that it was regarded as a national affair in Scotland, and helped to precipitate the war which speedily ensued.
THE DEFEAT OF SIR ANDREW BARTON.
Some of the edicts of the period seem strange enough to modern ears. The Scotch Parliament had passed an Act forbidding any ship freighted with staple goods to put to sea during the three winter months, under a penalty of five pounds. In 1493, a generation after the Act was passed, another provided that all burghs and towns should provide ships and busses, the least to be of twenty tons, fitted according to the means of the said places, provided with mariners, nets, and all necessary gear for taking “great fish and small.” The officers in every burgh were to make all the “stark idle men” within their bounds go on board these vessels, and serve them there for their wages, or, in case of refusal, banish them from their burgh. This was done with the idea of training a maritime force, but seems to have produced little effect. James IV. built a ship, however, which was, according to Scottish writers, larger and more powerfully armed than any then built in England or France. She was called the Great Michael, and “was of so great stature that she wasted all the oak forests of Fife, Falkland only excepted.” Southey reminds us that the Scots, like the Irish of the time, were constantly in feud with each other, and consequently destroyed their forests, to prevent the danger of ambuscades, and also to cut off the means of escape. Timber for this ship was brought from Norway, and though all the shipwrights in Scotland and many others from foreign countries were busily employed upon her, she took a year and a day to complete. The vessel is described as twelve score feet in length, and thirty-six in breadth of beam, within the walls, which were ten feet each thick, so that no cannon-ball could go through them. She had 300 mariners on board, six score gunners, and 1,000 men-of-war, including officers, “captains, skippers, and quarter-masters.” Sir Andrew Wood and Robert Barton were two of the chief officers. “This great ship cumbered Scotland to get her to sea. From the time that she was afloat, and her masts and sails complete, with anchors offering thereto, she was counted to the king to be thirty thousand pounds expense, by her artillery, which was very costly.” The Great Michael never did enough to have a single exploit recorded, nor was she unfortunate enough to meet a tragic ending.
In 1511 war was declared against France, and Henry caused many new ships to be [pg 282]made, repairing and rigging the old. After an action on the coast of Brittany, where both claimed the advantage, and where two of the largest vessels—the Cordelier, with 900 Frenchmen, and the Regent, with 700 Englishmen, were burned—nearly all on board perishing, Henry advised “a great ship to be made, such as was never before seen in England,” and which was named the Henri Grace de Dieu, or popularly the Great Harry.[133] There are many ancient representations of this vessel, which is said to have cost £11,000, and to have taken 400 men four whole days to work from Erith, where she was built, to Barking Creek. “The masts,” says a well-known authority, “were five in number,” but he goes on clearly to show that the fifth was simply the bowsprit; they were in one piece, as had been the usual mode in all previous times, although soon to be altered by the introduction of several joints or top-masts, which could be lowered in time of need. The rigging was simple to the last degree, but there was a considerable amount of ornamentation on the hull, and small flags were disposed almost at random on different parts of the deck and gunwale, and one at the head of each mast. The standard of England was hoisted on the principal mast; enormous pendants, or streamers, were added, though ornaments which must have been often inconvenient. The Great Harry was of 1,000 tons, and in—so far as the writer can discover—the only skirmish she was concerned in the Channel, for it could not be dignified by the name of an engagement, carried 700 men. She was burned at Woolwich, at the opening of Mary’s reign, through the carelessness of the sailors.
OLD DEPTFORD DOCKYARD.
In the reign of Henry VIII. a navy office was first formed, and regular arsenals were established at Portsmouth, Woolwich, and Deptford. The change in maritime warfare consequent on the use of gunpowder rendered ships of a new construction necessary, and more was done for the improvement of the navy in this reign than in any former one. Italian shipwrights, then the most expert, were engaged, and at the conclusion of Henry’s reign the Royal Navy consisted of seventy-one vessels, thirty of which were ships of respectable burden, aggregating 10,550 tons. Five years later, it had dwindled to less than one-half. Six years after Henry’s death, England lost Calais, a fort and town which had cost Edward III., in the height of his power, an obstinate siege of eleven months. But on Elizabeth’s accession to the throne, the star of England was once more in the ascendant.
Elizabeth commenced her reign by providing in all points for war, that she “might the more quietly enjoy peace.” Arms and weapons were imported from Germany, at considerable cost, but in such quantities that the land had never before been so amply stored with “all kinds of convenient armour and weapons.” And she, also, was the first to cause the manufacture of gunpowder in England, that she “might not both pray and pay for it too to her neighbours.” She allowed the free exportation of herrings and all other sea-fish in English bottoms, and a partial exemption from impressment was granted to all fishermen; while to encourage their work, Wednesday and Saturday were made “fish-days;” this, it was stated, “was meant politicly, not for any superstition to be maintained in the choice of meats.” The navy became her great care, so much that [pg 283]“foreigners named her the restorer of the glory of shipping, and the Queen of the North Sea.” She raised the pay of sailors. “The wealthier inhabitants of the sea-coast,” says Camden, “in imitation of their princess, built ships of war, striving who should exceed, insomuch that the Queen’s Navy, joined with her subjects’ shipping, was, in short time, so puissant that it was able to bring forth 20,000 fighting men for sea service.”
The greatest and most glorious event of her reign was, without cavil, the defeat of the Spanish Armada, at one time deemed and called “The Invincible.” With the political complications which preceded the invasion, we have nought to do: it was largely a religious war, inasmuch as Popish machinations were at the bottom of all. When the contest became inevitable, the Spanish Government threw off dissimulation, and showed “a disdainful disregard of secrecy as to its intentions, or rather a proud manifestation of them, which,” says Southey, “if they had been successful, might have been called magnanimous.” Philip had determined on putting forth his might, and accounts which were ostentatiously published in advance termed it “The most fortunate and invincible Armada.” The fleet consisted of 130 ships and twenty caravels, having on board nearly 20,000 soldiers, 8,450 marines, 2,088 galley-slaves, with 2,630 great pieces of brass artillery. The names of all the saints appeared in the nomenclature of the ships, “while,” says Southey, “holier appellations, which ought never to be thus applied, were strangely associated with the Great Griffin and the Sea Dog, the Cat and the White Falcon.” Every noble house in Spain was represented, and there were 180 friars and Jesuits, with Cardinal Allen at their head, a prelate who had not long before published at Antwerp a gross libel on Elizabeth, calling her “heretic, rebel, and usurper, an incestuous bastard, the bane of Christendom, and firebrand of all mischief.” These priests were to bring England back to the true Church the moment they landed. The galleons being above sixty in number were, “exceeding great, fair, and strong, and built high above the water, like castles, easy to be fought withal, but not so easy to board as the English and the Netherland ships; their upper decks were musket-proof, and beneath they were four or five feet thick, so that no bullet could pass them. Their masts were bound about with oakum, or pieces of fazeled ropes, and armed against all shot. The galleases were goodly great vessels, furnished with chambers, chapels, towers, pulpits, and such-like; they rowed like galleys, with exceeding great oars, each having 300 slaves, and were able to do much harm with their great ordnance.” Most severe discipline was to be preserved; blasphemy and oaths were to be punished rigidly; gaming, as provocative of these, and quarrelling, were forbidden; no one might wear a dagger; religious exercises, including the use of a special litany, in which all archangels, angels, and saints, were invoked to assist with their prayers against the English heretics and enemies of the faith, were enjoined. “No man,” says Southey, “ever set forth upon a bad cause with better will, nor under a stronger delusion of perverted faith.” The gunners were instructed to have half butts filled with water and vinegar, wet clothes, old sails, &c., ready to extinguish fire, and what seems strange now-a-days, in addition to the regular artillery, every ship was to carry two boats’-loads of large stones, to throw on the enemy’s decks, forecastles, &c., during an encounter.