Hitherto the galleys of Venice and the carracks of Genoa had supplied practically all the eastern goods which England could pay for with surplus wools and cloth, but early in the reign of Henry VII we find evidence, in his tariff dispute with Venice, of a regular voyage of English ships to Candia, Chios, and possibly other Venetian dependencies, to load cargoes of the sweet malmsey wines which were becoming popular in England. The proposal, at the same period, to establish an English wool staple at Pisa has already been described. If carried out, it would have caused an immense disturbance to trade and would probably have ruined the whole Italian colony in London, with diplomatic consequences which Henry must have had little desire to face; but the project was no chimaera, and was sufficiently within the scope of practicabilities to cause intense alarm to the Venetian Government, who concluded the quarrel with Henry on his own terms.
Once established and diplomatically supported, English commerce throve exceedingly in the Levant. Many of the most prominent commercial families—the Gonsons, the Lockes, and the Greshams—took part in it. Hakluyt, speaking on the authority of the old ledgers of the merchants concerned, relates that, as early as 1511, ‘divers tall ships of London ... with certain other ships of Southampton and Bristol, had an ordinary and usual trade to Sicily, Candia, Chios, and somewhiles to Cyprus, as also to Tripoli and Beyrout in Syria’. The goods which they took out with them were hides and various kinds of cloth, while the homeward cargoes consisted of silks, chamlets, rhubarb, malmseys, muscadels and other wines, sweet oils, cotton wool, Turkey carpets, galls, pepper, cinnamon and other spices, everything in fact which advancing material civilization, spurred on by the quickened imagination of the time, could demand.[[208]] An extensive use was also made of local Mediterranean shipping, which seems to imply the presence of numerous resident English merchants or their factors in those regions.[[209]]
Concomitantly with the advance of English trade in the Mediterranean, the mercantile marine of Venice declined under stress of wars with the Turk and the Italian powers who were jealous of her success. The Flanders galleys came less and less frequently to England, ceasing altogether before the end of the reign of Henry VIII. The commerce of Genoa had already fallen before the attacks of her great rival, and the trend of events rendered impossible any revival of Italian seaborne trade. Consequently the English vessels not only bore the goods of their own merchants, but also developed a carrying traffic on behalf of the Italian factors and agents in London, who had to forward in some way the wools and rough fabrics which provided employment for the population of the great cities, indispensable now that their commerce was deserting them.[[210]] When the Mediterranean trade became well established, consuls were appointed at Chios and Candia with full authority over English merchants while in port,[[211]] but otherwise the trade was absolutely free, and there was never anything resembling an incorporation of the merchants interested until the granting of a Charter to the Turkey Company by Queen Elizabeth in 1581. By that date the conditions had entirely changed; the trade had languished and had then been revived, while the hostility of Spain and the necessity of negotiating with the Turks had rendered co-operative working and mutual support with capital and armed force essential to success.
In the first half of the century, on the other hand, Turkish sea power was not yet at its height in the Mediterranean, while the length of the voyage and the diversity of the places visited made it difficult for the merchantmen to sail in fleets. At that period the ships generally proceeded alone or, at most, in pairs, and the immense risks were no doubt compensated by corresponding profits. The freedom of trade did not, of course, extend to raw wool and the other articles constituting the Staplers’ monopoly, for which special licences had to be obtained. So lucrative was the trade that these licences were sought after by the most prominent men in the land, and maritime adventure must have received a great stimulus from their participation. In 1510 a syndicate composed of Sir Edward Howard, son of the Earl of Surrey, Sir Thomas Knyvet, Charles Brandon (afterwards Duke of Suffolk and brother-in-law of the king), and Sir Edward Guldeford obtained permission to export wool, leather, lead, tin, &c., for three years in a ship called the Mary and John of London.[[212]] Sir Edward Howard was killed in the attack on Brest in 1513, but we find his brother, Thomas Howard, Lord Admiral and Duke of Norfolk, engaging in the same trade about 1540, when he had a factor at Chios.
Voyages such as these, which occupied on an average a full year from departure to return, necessitated the use of larger ships than were customary in the older and more local trades. It was obviously more economical to employ one well-armed and capacious vessel with a large crew than to send two or three smaller ones which would be liable to part company on a long trip, and would be much more open to peril from storms and pirates. The same considerations had caused the Venetians to build merchantmen of 1,000 tons burden, and they undoubtedly assisted in the development of naval architecture in England which was so remarkable between the accession of Henry VII and the defeat of the Armada. There was more essential difference between the unwieldy basin-shaped ‘cog’ of the fifteenth century and the vessels with which Drake outmanœuvred the Spaniards, than there was between Drake’s ships and those of Nelson at Trafalgar.
In times of peace the ships of the navy, heavily armed and stoutly built, were sometimes employed on Mediterranean voyages. The Regent, afterwards lost in the fight off Brest in 1512, was sent with wool to Italy in 1510; and as late as 1552 two king’s ships, the Jesus of Lubeck, of 800 tons, and the Mary Gonson, of 600, were chartered by merchants for £1,000 for a voyage to ‘Levants-end’.[[213]] In 1515 the Christ, a ship which had served against the French in the war just concluded, made a most unfortunate voyage to the Mediterranean. She was chartered by three London merchants and laden with wools and other merchandise for Italy. After leaving London she was driven by a storm on the coast of Zealand, arrested for tolls by the authorities, and released after much delay on security being given. Proceeding on the voyage, she was captured by the Moors off the Barbary coast. The ship and cargo were of course hopelessly lost, and the crew were held to ransom, for the payment of which a certain John Hopton received a licence to gather alms for three years in England.[[214]]
This begging to raise the ransom of captive friends was a common custom. In 1510 two Provençal merchants were licensed to ask alms for the ransom of nineteen of their comrades who still survived out of twenty-eight taken by the Turks two years previously; and indulgences were granted by the Pope to all who should aid them. Another instance was that of Isabella Lascarina, ‘a gentlewoman of Greece’ who was trying to raise 1,300 ducats for the ransom of her four children, taken by the Turks ten years before. As long as the Turkish power flourished in the Mediterranean the aid of the charitable continued to be invoked for such cases.
Hakluyt, writing at the end of the century, was able to get into touch with a veteran survivor of these early voyages, and obtained from him many interesting particulars.[[215]] This man, John Williamson by name, was living in 1592 in the parish of St. Dunstan’s in the East, and had sailed as cooper in one of Gonson’s ships. In 1534, he says, a voyage to Candia and Chios was made by two ships named the Holy Cross, of 160 tons, and the Matthew Gonson, of 300 tons. The latter was commanded by Richard Gonson, a son of William Gonson, the paymaster of Henry VIII’s navy. Richard Gonson died at Chios in the course of this, his first voyage. The two vessels brought home cargoes consisting of the usual Levant goods, together with some ‘very excellent muscatels and red malmesey, the like whereof was seldom seen before in England’. The double journey occupied a full year, and was the last made by the Holy Cross, ‘which was so shaken in this voyage, and so weakened, that she was laid up in dock, and never made voyage after’. In 1535 the Matthew Gonson made another voyage alone, commanded this time by Captain Richard Gray, who afterwards died in Russia. William Holstocke, who in later days rose to be Controller of Elizabeth’s navy, sailed as purser, having been the captain’s page in the previous voyage. The ship was evidently well armed, for the crew numbered 100 and included six gunners. There were also four trumpeters who all deserted at Messina, ‘and gat them into the galleys that lay near unto us, and in them went to Rome’. The voyage was finished in eleven months, and in that time only one man died of sickness. The Matthew Gonson was still trading to the Mediterranean in 1553.
Another narration,[[216]] that of Roger Bodenham, captain of the Barke Aucher, goes more into detail, and gives a vivid picture of the perils of Mediterranean trading. Leaving Tilbury on January 6, 1551, after long delay by reason of contrary winds, they proceeded in charge of a pilot to Dover, whither Sir Anthony Aucher, the owner, had journeyed to bid them farewell. On the 11th they arrived at Plymouth, whence they departed two days later and sighted Cape Finisterre on the 16th. On January 30 they entered the harbour of Cadiz, discharged part of their cargo, and took in fresh goods, not leaving that port until February 20. After being delayed five days by contrary winds among the Balearic Islands, they passed in sight of Sardinia and arrived at Messina on March 5, discharging ‘much goods’ there. Thenceforward the dangerous part of the voyage was entered upon as ‘there was no going into Levant, especially to Chios, without a safe-conduct from the Turk’. The principal owner of the cargo, a foreigner named Anselm Salvago, had promised to obtain such a safe-conduct and have it ready for the ship at Messina, but it was not forthcoming, and Bodenham was obliged to go on to Candia without one. There he was assured he would find a safe-conduct to continue the voyage to Chios, the destination of most of the merchandise. Reaching Candia without mishap he was again disappointed, and on sending a messenger to Chios to ask for a safe-conduct, received answer that the Turks would give none. As a fleet of Turkish galleys was then at sea he announced his determination not to proceed any further, in spite of the urging of the merchants who owned the cargo.
Certain small Turkish vessels which were in the port made sail that day for Turkey, carrying the news that a rich English ship was in Candia and intended to remain there. Perceiving that this might afford a chance of slipping through to Chios, Bodenham changed his plan and made sail the same evening, trusting that the Turks would not be on the look-out for him. He had some trouble to induce the crew to set out on such a risky enterprise, but finally won them all over except three, whom he sent ashore. At the last moment they also begged so hard to be received on board again that he was constrained to take them with him. When in the midst of the Archipelago the wind failed and he was obliged to anchor for ten or twelve days at an island called Micone, where he picked up a Greek pilot who undertook to bring the ship to Chios. The voyage was resumed, and Chios was sighted in the afternoon, but Bodenham decided to stand off for the night as he preferred to enter the port in the morning. A number of small Greek vessels, however, which had accompanied him from Chios, decided to make for the harbour that night. Shortly after they had parted company three ‘foysts’ full of Turks were seen preparing to attack them. The Greek pilot, who had a son in one of them, entreated Bodenham to go to the rescue. This he did, and the pirates were driven off by a single effective shot from one of his guns.