Meantime Elizabeth and her ministers were fully aware of the danger, and the appeals made to the Lords, and through the lord-lieutenants of counties were answered [pg 284]nobly. The first to present himself before the queen was a Roman Catholic peer, the Viscount Montague, who brought 200 horsemen led by his own sons, and professed the resolution that “though he was very sickly, and in age, to live and die in defence of the queen and of his country, against all invaders, whether it were Pope, king, or potentate whatsoever.” The city of London, when 5,000 men and fifteen ships were required, prayed the queen to accept twice the number. “In a very short time all her whole realm, and every corner, were furnished with armed men, on horseback and on foot; and those continually trained, exercised, and put into bands in warlike manner, as in no age ever was before in this realm. There was no sparing of money to provide horse, armour, weapons, powder, and all necessaries.” Thousands volunteered their services personally without wages; others money for armour and weapons, and wages for soldiers. The country was never in better condition for defence.
Some urged the queen to place no reliance on maritime defence, but to receive the enemy only on shore. Elizabeth thought otherwise, and determined that the enemy should reap no more advantage on the sea than on land. She gave the command of the whole fleet to Charles Lord Howard of Effingham; Drake being vice-admiral, and Hawkins and Frobisher—all grand names in naval history—being in the western division. Lord Henry Seymour was to lie off the coast of Flanders with forty ships, Dutch and English, and prevent the Prince of Parma from forming a junction with the Armada. The whole number of ships collected for the defence of the country was 191, and the number of seamen 17,472. There was one ship in the fleet (the Triumph) of 1,100 tons, one of 1,000, one of 900, and two of 800 tons each, but the larger part of the vessels were very small, and the aggregate tonnage amounted to only about half that of the Armada. For the land defence over 100,000 men were called out, regimented, and armed, but only half of them were trained. This was exclusive of the Border and Yorkshire forces.
The Armada left the Tagus in the latter end of May, 1588, for Corunna, there to embark the remainder of the forces and stores. On the 30th of the same month, the Lord Admiral and Sir Francis Drake sailed from Plymouth. A serious storm was encountered, which dismasted some and dispersed others of the enemy’s fleet, and occasioned the loss of four Portuguese galleys. One David Gwynne, a Welshman, who had been a galley-slave for eleven years, took the opportunity this storm afforded, and regained his liberty. He made himself master of one galley, captured a second, and was joined by a third, in which the wretched slaves were encouraged to rise by his example, and successfully carried the three into a French port. After this disastrous commencement, the Armada put back to Corunna, and was pursued thither by Effingham; but as he approached the coast of Spain, the wind changed, and as he was afraid the enemy might effect the passage to the Channel unperceived, he returned to its entrance, whence the ships were withdrawn, some to the coast of Ireland, and the larger part to Plymouth, where the men were allowed to come ashore, and the officers made merry with revels, dancing, and bowling. The enemy was so long in making an appearance, that even Elizabeth was persuaded the invasion would not occur that year; and with this idea, Secretary Walsingham wrote to the admiral to send back four of his largest ships. “Happily for England, and most honourably for himself, the Lord Effingham, though he had relaxed his vigilance, [pg 285]saw how perilous it was to act as if all were safe. He humbly entreated that nothing might be lightly credited in so weighty a matter, and that he might retain these ships, though it should be at his own cost. This was no empty show of disinterested zeal; for if the services of those ships had not been called for, there can be little doubt, that in the rigid parsimony of Elizabeth’s government, he would have been called upon to pay the costs.”
THE FIRST SHOT AGAINST THE ARMADA.
The Armada, now completely refitted, sailed from Corunna on July 12th, and when off the Lizard were sighted by a pirate, one Thomas Fleming, who hastened to Plymouth with the news, and not merely obtained pardon for his offences, but was awarded a pension for life. At that time the wind “blew stiffly into the harbour,” but all hands were got on board, and the ships were warped out, the Lord Admiral encouraging the men, and hauling [pg 286]at the ropes himself. By the following day thirty of the smaller vessels were out, and next day the Armada was descried “with lofty turrets like castles, in front like a half-moon; the wings thereof speading out about the length of seven miles, sailing very slowly though with full sails; the wind,” says Camden, “being as it were weary with wafting them, and the ocean groaning under their weight.” The Spaniards gave up the idea of attacking Plymouth, and the English let them pass, that they might chase them in the rear. Next day the Lord Admiral sent the Defiance pinnace forward, and opened the attack by discharging her ordnance, and later his own ship, the Ark Royal, “thundered thick and furiously” into the Spanish vice-admiral’s ship, and soon after, Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher, gave the Admiral Recalde a very thorough peppering. That officer’s ship was rendered nearly unserviceable, and he was obliged to crowd on sail to catch up with the others, who showed little disposition for fighting. After a smart action in which he had injured the enemy much, and suffered little hurt himself, Effingham gave over, because forty of his ships had not yet come up from Plymouth. During the night the Spaniards lost one of their ships, which was set on fire, it was believed, by a Flemish gunner, whose wife and self had been ill-treated by the officer of the troops on board. The fire was quenched, after all her upper works had been consumed; but when the Spaniards left the hulk, they abandoned fifty of their countrymen, “miserably hurt.” This night was remarkable for a series of disasters and contretemps. A galleon, under the command of one Valdez, ran foul of another ship, broke her foremast, and was left behind. Effingham, supposing that the men had been taken out, without tarrying to take possession of the prize, passed on with two other vessels, that he might not lose sight of the enemy. “He thought that he was following Drake’s ship, which ought to have carried the lanthorn that night; it proved to be a Spanish light, and in the morning he found himself in the midst of the enemy’s fleet;” but he managed to get away unobserved, or at all events unpursued. Drake, meantime, was mistakably following in the dark and stormy night a phantom enemy, in the shape of five Easterling vessels. Meantime, the English fleet not seeing the expected light on Drake’s ship, lay-to during the night. Drake, next morning, had the good fortune to fall in with Valdez, who, after a brief parley, surrendered, and the prize was sent into Plymouth. Drake and his men divided 55,000 golden ducats among them, as part of the spoil on board. The hulk of the galleon was taken to Weymouth, and although burned almost to the water’s edge, the gunpowder in the hold remained intact and had not taken fire. The next day there was considerable manœuvring and skirmishing, but with no very memorable loss on either side. A great Venetian ship and some smaller ones were taken from the enemy, while on our side Captain Cook died with honour in the midst of the Spanish ships, in a little vessel of his own. Both sides were wary; Effingham did not think good to grapple with them, because they had an army in the fleet, while he had none; our army awaited their landing. The Spaniards meant as much as possible to avoid fighting, and hold on till they could effect a junction with the Prince of Parma. Next morning there was little wind, and only the four great galleases were engaged, these having the advantage on account of their oars, while the English were becalmed; the latter, however, did considerable execution with chain-shot, cutting asunder their tacklings and cordage. But they were now constrained to send ashore for gunpowder, [pg 287]with which they were either badly supplied, or had expended too freely. Off the Isle of Wight, the English battered the Spanish admiral with their great ordnance, and shot away his mainmast; but other ships came to his assistance, beat them off, and set upon the English admiral, who only escaped by favour of a breeze which sprung up at the right moment. Camden relates how the English shot away the lantern from one of the Spanish ships, and the beak-head from a second, and that Frobisher escaped by the skin of his teeth from a situation of great danger. Still this was little more than skirmishing. “The Spaniards say that from that time they gave over what they call the pursuit of their enemy; and they dispatched a fresh messenger to the Prince of Parma, urging him to effect his junction with them as soon as possible, and withal to send them some great shot, for they had expended theirs with more prodigality than effect.” On the other hand the English determined to wait till they could attack the enemy in the Straits of Dover, where they expected to be joined by the squadrons under Lord Seymour and Sir William Winter. Meantime Effingham’s forces were being considerably increased by volunteers; “For the gentlemen of England hired ships from all parts at their own charge, and with one accord came flocking thither as to a set field.” Among the volunteers were Sir Walter Raleigh, the Earls of Oxford, Northumberland, and Cumberland. On the evening of the 27th the Spaniards came to anchor off Calais, and the English ships, now 140 in number, “all of them ships fit for fight, good sailors, nimble and tight for tacking about which way they would, anchored within cannon-shot.” A squadron of about thirty ships belonging to the States, acting in conjunction with the Admiral of Zeeland and his squadron, effectually blockaded Dunkirk, and the poor Prince of Parma, with his pressed men constantly deserting, his flat-bottomed boats leaky, and his provisions not ready, could do nothing.
The Spanish ships were almost invulnerable to the shot and ordnance of the day, and “their height was such that our bravest seamen were against any attempt at boarding them.” These facts were well understood by Elizabeth’s ministers, and the Lord Admiral was instructed to convert eight of his worst vessels into fire-ships. The orders arrived so à propos of the occasion, and were so swiftly executed, that within thirty hours after the enemy had cast anchor off Calais, the ships were unloaded and dismantled, filled with combustibles and all their ordnance charged, and their sides being smeared with pitch, rosin, and wildfire, were sent, in the dead of the night, with wind and tide, against the Spanish fleet. When the Spaniards saw the whole sea glittering and shining with the reflection of the flames, the guns exploding as the fire reached them, and a heavy canopy of dense smoke overhead obscuring the heavens, they remembered those terrible fire-ships which had been used so effectively in the Scheldt, and the cry resounded through the fleet, “The fire of Antwerp!” Some of the Spanish captains let their hawsers slip, some cut their cables, and in terror and confusion put to sea; “happiest they who could first be gone, though few or none could tell which course to take.” In the midst of all this fearful excitement one of the largest of the galleases, commanded by D. Hugo de Moncada, ran foul of another ship, lost her rudder, floated about at the mercy of the tide, and at length ran upon Calais sands. Here she was assailed by the English small craft, who battered her with their guns, but dared not attempt boarding till the admiral sent [pg 288]a hundred men in his boats, under Sir Amias Preston. The Spaniards fought bravely, but at length Moncada was shot through the head, and the galleas was carried by boarding. Most of the Spanish soldiers, 400 in number, jumped overboard and were drowned; the 300 galley-slaves were freed from their fetters. The vessel had 50,000 ducats on board, “a booty,” says Speed, “well fitting the English soldiers’ affections.” The English were about to set the galleas on fire, but the governor of Calais prevented this by firing upon the captors, and the ship became his prize.
THE FIRE-SHIPS ATTACKING THE ARMADA.
The Duke of Medina Sidonia, admiral of the Spanish Armada, had ordered the whole fleet to weigh anchor and stand out to sea when he perceived the approaching fire-ships; his vessels were to return to their former stations when the danger should be over. When he fired a signal for the others to follow his example, few of them heard it, “because they were scattered all about, and driven by fear, some of them in the wide sea, and driven among the shoals of Flanders.” When they had once more congregated, they ranged themselves in order off Gravelines, where the final action was fought. Drake and Fenner were the first to assail them, followed by many brave captains, and lastly the [pg 289]admiral came up with Lord Thomas Howard and Lord Sheffield. There were scarcely two or three and twenty among their ships which matched ninety of the Spanish vessels in size, but the smaller vessels were more easily handled and manœuvred. “Wherefore,” says Hakluyt, “using their prerogative of nimble steerage, whereby they could turn and wield themselves with the wind which way they listed, they came oftentimes very near upon the Spaniards, and charged them so sore, that now and then they were but a pike’s length asunder; and so continually giving them one broadside after another, they discharged all their shot, both great and small, upon them, spending a whole day, from morning till night, in that violent kind of conflict.” During this action many of the Spanish vessels were pierced through and through between wind and water; one was sunk, and it was learnt that one of her officers, having proposed to strike, was put to death by another; the brother of the slain man instantly avenged his death, and then the ship went down. Others are believed to have sunk, and many were terribly shattered. One, which leaked so fast that fifty men were employed at the pumps, tried to run aground on the Flemish coast, where her captain had to strike to a Dutch commander. Our ships at last desisted from the contest, from sheer want of ammunition; and the Armada made an effort to reach the Straits. Here a great engagement was expected, but the fighting was over, and that which the hand of man barely commenced the [pg 290]hand of God completed. The Spaniards “were now experimentally convinced that the English excelled them in naval strength. Several of their largest ships had been lost, others were greatly damaged; there was no port to which they could repair; and to force their way through the victorious English fleet, then in sight, and amounting to 140 sail, was plainly and confessedly impossible.” They resolved upon returning to Spain by a northern route, and “having gotten more sea room for their huge-bodied bulks, spread their mainsails, and made away as fast as wind and water would give them leave.” Effingham, leaving Seymour to blockade the Prince of Parma’s force, followed what our chroniclers now termed the Vincible Armada, and pursued them to Scotland, where they did not attempt to land, but made for Norway, “where the English,” says Drake, “thought it best to leave them to those boisterous and uncouth northern seas.”