The Spanish ships appear.
Admiral Recalde.
On the 2nd of August Drake made up his mind that the enemy could not land in any part of Great Britain, and left the Armada to contend with the elements only. The rumours of English defeat which reached Spain were industriously propagated in Ireland also, but on the 26th the discomfiture of the invaders was known as far west as Athlone, though no letter had yet arrived. In the first days of September the flying ships began to tell their own story. From the Giant’s Causeway to the outermost point of Kerry the wild Atlantic seaboard presented its inhospitable face, and the Spaniards who landed met with a reception to match. At first they were the objects of great anxiety, and if the fleet had kept together, the crews, sick and hungry as they were, might have made some dangerous combination with the natives. But the Duke of Medina Sidonia, with fifty-two ships, managed to weather the Irish coast. This was owing to the advice of Calderon, who was the only officer with him that knew our shores, and who had a proper horror of the terrible west coast of Ireland. Admiral Recalde, a distinguished sailor, but with less local knowledge, parted company with the Duke off the Shetlands. When the storm moderated he had twenty-seven sail with him, but by the time he reached Kerry these were reduced to three. There were twenty-five pipes of wine on board, but no water except what had come from Spain, ‘which stinketh marvellously.’ There was very little bread, and the thirsty wretches could not eat their salt beef. Recalde anchored between the Blaskets and the main land, and sent for water. But Smerwick was close by, and no Kerry Catholic cared to run the risk of comforting the Queen’s enemies. Recalde’s ship, ‘The Don John of Oporto,’ was one of the largest in the whole Armada, containing 500 men, but of these 100 were ill; some died daily, and the strongest were scarcely able to stand. The masts were injured by the English shot and would not bear a press of canvas, yet there was nothing for it but to trust once more to those crazy spars. When Slea Head was passed, the immediate danger was over, and Recalde ultimately reached Corunna, but only to die of exhaustion four days after. He seems to have had some presentiment of disaster. When Medina Sidonia was appointed to command the expedition, his Duchess wished him to decline the perilous honour. If he succeeded, she philosophically remarked, he could be no more than Duke of Medina Sidonia; whereas he would lose his reputation if he failed. ‘Yes,’ said Recalde significantly, ‘if he returns.’[164]
Misery of the Spaniards.
Wreck off Kerry.
Spaniards hanged at Tralee.
The noble landsman to whom Philip, with extraordinary folly, entrusted the greatest fleet which the world had yet seen, had probably no choice but to make his way homewards as best he might. Unable to cope with the English or to co-operate with Parma, a great seaman might perhaps have been equally unsuccessful in attaining the objects of the expedition. But a chief of even ordinary capacity might have managed to ship some fresh water on the Faroes or the Shetlands. Neither on those islands nor on the Norwegian coast could any serious resistance have been offered; but the chance was lost and the consequences of this neglect were frightful. Wine was but a poor substitute, and some of the victuals were as unwholesome as the foul water. Among other things lime had been mixed with the biscuit, and for this many bakers in Spain were afterwards hanged. The ships were so much damaged, and the men so weak, that it was often impossible to keep clear of the coast. One unfortunate vessel, named ‘Our Lady of the Rose,’ foundered in the Sound of Blasket, in sight of the open water which Recalde had reached. The Genoese pilot had probably no local knowledge, and steered her on to a sunken rock, where she went down with 500 men on board; but not before an officer had killed the poor Italian for supposed treason. The pilot’s son alone escaped, by swimming, to tell the tale. Among the doomed was the young prince of Ascoli, said to be a son of Philip’s, who had originally sailed with Medina Sidonia and had taken a boat at Calais, had failed to regain the admiral’s ship, and had sought refuge upon that which had now gone to the bottom. A small vessel, which seems to have had no boat, was driven into Tralee Bay. Three men swam ashore and offered to surrender, saying they had friends at Waterford who would ransom them; but the names of those friends they refused to disclose. Lady Denny hanged the whole crew, consisting of twenty-four Spaniards, on the ground that there was no way of keeping them safely. Norris afterwards regretted that this had been done, but he also at first dreaded a landing in force.[165]
Wrecks off Clare.
Seven ships were driven into the Shannon, and lay for a short time off Carrigaholt. The Spaniards burned one which was too leaky to go to sea again. Another was wrecked in Dunbeg Bay, on the other side of Loop Head, and between 200 and 300 men were drowned. Another was lost at Trumree, a few miles farther north, and the names of Spanish Point and Mal Bay are believed to commemorate the impression which these disasters left upon the native mind. 300 men who landed were slain by the sheriff, in obedience to Bingham’s orders. Another ship lay for a time at Liscannor, where there is little or no shelter, but the crew were unable to land; one of her two boats was washed ashore, and a large oil-jar found in her showed that water was the Spaniards’ great want. Other ships were seen off the Arran Islands, and one of 200 tons came within a mile of Galway. It is not recorded that any of these were lost; but neither does it appear that any were relieved. They drifted away in misery, the men dying daily, and the survivors having to work, though themselves in a condition very little better than that of the fabulous Ancient Mariner.[166]