All I could do for him without being myself suspected was to talk to him from time to time and give him a swig from my jug. When my comrades laughed at me for the favour I showed him, I would say that an honest soldier should be allowed to go to hell if he so wished without being tortured in this life as well. To this they heartily agreed.
We coasted along the shores of Africa, looking for pirates from Algiers; but they were too careful to put to sea against so fast and powerful a vessel. And of this I was very glad, having no wish to stand on the platform above the beak with the Turks and Moors aiming at me. Then we sailed north and put into Cartagena where we soldiers received some pay and were allowed to make merry ashore.
After that we rowed across to the port of Palma in the island of Majorca, arriving there on the Twelfth Day of Christmas. The Corona de Castilla glided to her berth beneath the shadow of the cathedral. The drum stopped and the chains of the rowers clanked as they dropped their heads on the oars and slept, huddled in their gowns.
I went ashore with the other soldiers and we swaggered along the waterfront looking at the plain, working ships from Valencia and Barcelona and the ports of Italy and France, which had not the splendour of our golden galley. I pretended not to take notice of two English ships from the West Country, one of Poole and one of Topsham. Their hatches were on, their seamen all on deck, and they were ready to sail at the first change of wind.
There was no time to be lost. When night fell I separated myself from my companions and bought a short gown such as students wear, paying with some pieces of silver which I had won at dice. Then I went down to the port, hid my belt and sword in one pile of fish nets and my helmet in another, and put on the gown which covered my doublet.
Of the two ships I liked best the Landret of Poole, for she seemed to me a handy craft of about one hundred and fifty tons and a fast sailer. So I strolled up to her, whistling as if I had not a care in the world, and shouted in English, ‘Ahoy there, Landret!’
A seaman leaned over the bulwarks and, thinking I had come to sell them stores, told me they wanted for nothing.
I said that I had come to buy, not sell, and asked if the Master were on board.
‘And where else would he be when, God willing, we sail before dawn?’
‘Then I would have a word with him,’ I answered boldly.
Master Fothergill was a good old seaman of Poole. At first I found it hard to understand him, having lost the habitude of English for so long.
‘You be from Devon?’ he asked as soon as I opened my mouth.
I had forgotten that the only English I spoke was Devon as broad as his Dorset, though my Spanish was pure enough for any bishop.
‘Aye, from Plymouth.’
‘And what do you among the dons who have no good will to Plymouth men?’
‘Why, Master,’ I answered, ‘a student is a student all the world over, and I have been two years in Spain to learn their language and whatever else they can teach me.’
He then asked me if I were a Catholic, and I could tell by his voice that he was not.
‘When in Spain I do as the Spaniards do, Master Fothergill,’ I replied.
‘And so do all my company, or I’ll know the reason why! And now what can I do for you?’
With my heart in my mouth I told him that I wanted a passage because I had no more money and no means of getting any from home.
‘But can you pay?’ he asked. ‘I have met with students before, and not a one of them ever had a penny to his name.’
‘If you will take a fine Toledo sword instead of money, I will gladly give it to you,’ I said. ‘And you may not find me as useless a shipmate as you think.’
‘Stolen it, have you?’
‘By the Lord, I bought it at Cadiz and have never dishonoured it!’ I cried.
I would not leave the ship, fearing that he might change his mind and sail without me, so Master Fothergill sent a seaman to fetch my sword and belt from the nets where I said it was. I drew it and showed him the mark of Toledo.
‘You did not draw that like a student,’ he said, ‘and you wear the baggy breeches of a soldier below your gown. If I mistake not, Master Philips of Plymouth, you would be happier below decks until we sail.’
He led me down to the after hold and told me to stay among the barrels till the Landret sailed. I did not sleep, you may be sure, but listened to every sound on deck until at last I heard the mooring ropes splash into the water and the creaking of the rudder as the foresail hauled her bows off the quay, and then the feet of the seamen as they loosed the mainsails. When the Landret leaned over with the dawn wind steady on the beam and the bit between her teeth I came on deck.
I found her of a new style which Master Fothergill told me the shipwrights of Poole learned from the Sea Rovers out of the Low Countries. Her main mast carried a sprit sail, rigged fore and aft as they call it, and on the mizzen was a lug sail. Only the fore mast carried mainsail and topsail that were square. This newfangled rig of hers was not so good as the old in light airs, but allowed her to sail much closer to the wind than any vessel I ever saw. She was not deep laden, having little heavy cargo but Italian wines. The rest of her burden was of currants, dried fruits, worked leather and Valencia silks.
Now that we were safely at sea I told my story to Master Fothergill and his mate, who blessed themselves and damned their eyes at every second word of it and swore that I should reach Poole in good heart. They made known to me that John Hawkins was now Treasurer of Her Majesty’s Navy and a great man at court. It was said that he grieved for his lost men and that he had lists of all those sentenced by the Holy Office and had visited Spain on their behalf, but without avail. Master Fothergill pressed me to go to London and see him, and assured me that I should not have to wait in his anteroom, for he would run and embrace me as soon as he heard my name.
I was well able to fulfil my promise that I could be of some use on the voyage. The Landret was poorly armed, with only twelve guns which the crew had seldom fired. She could escape from any privateer who had a mind to her cargo by sailing close to the wind.
The guns were short, old-fashioned cannon of little range but throwing a twenty-pound ball, and I made it my business to see to the training of the seamen who thought it enough if they could loose off a shot without killing themselves. The powder and ball, rods, sponges and lashings sufficed for a merchantman but never would have satisfied a master gunner on the Jesus of Lubeck or the San Felipe.
We met strong westerly winds which prevented us closing with the coast of Spain. So Master Fothergill ran to the southward, intending to put about before there was any danger of Moorish pirates sighting us. But off Algiers the wind dropped, and we found ourselves just in sight of the hills above the town.
We soon picked up a fresh breeze from the north-east which promised an easy run to the Straits of Gibraltar. When the coast of Africa was below the horizon, the look-out at the masthead cried out that he saw a woundy great rowing boat coming after us. I ran up the shrouds to see what it was, and sure enough it was a Moorish galley, not so long as the Corona de Castilla but big enough to have a plain merchantman for breakfast.
‘Well, Miles, I fear you will see the inside of a Moorish prison and like it no better than a Spanish,’ said Master Fothergill.
Indeed I had little hope, for the galley must catch us unless the sea grew too rough for her; and our crew had no more than cutlasses and some old rusty cross-bows to repel the boarders when they swarmed on to us.
Master Fothergill asked if there were any way to keep her off or escape pursuit, since I must know more than he of a galley master’s seamanship.
I advised him first to put the helm down a little so as to bring the short seas directly on to our beam. When a galley is driving into the sea, her bow guns can be held steady on the mark, so that a good gunner can score a hit with every two shots; but when she is rolling in a beam sea the gun sights move across the target, and it is much harder for the gunner to judge the
moment to fire. Also, I said the galley is slower in pursuit when the oars are biting deep on one side and may be skimming the water on the other.
The galley turned to follow us, and I could see the white spray which the oars threw up as she rolled. But in spite of her wallowing in the short seas she came up with us fast until I could hear the beat of the drum across the water.
The Moors tried two shots with the bow chaser, but both plunged into the sea to starboard. The Landret handled like a pinnace, and Master Fothergill at the helm kept her zigzagging so that the galley had to veer continually to bring her guns to bear.
Then, with the Master’s leave, I called the gun crews together in the waist and told them what they should do.
‘When these heathen Turks come abreast of us,’ I said, ‘do not waste your fire on the banks of oars! We shall never make our escape that way. With only half its oars, the galley could still catch us. Fire at the after castle whenever it comes into your sights! The timbers are light, and you may well hit the turban of her infidel master which will do no good to his head. When you have fired, load with grape and wait for orders!’
We could now plainly see the beak of the galley, which was in the shape of a unicorn with a red, open mouth, from which their bow chasers fired at us. Over the beak were Moors in good, bright armour and pointed helmets. On the after castle were some in white robes tucked up to their knees for the fight, and others in Turkish trousers naked to the waist. All carried about their bodies enough swords, spears and pistols to arm two squadrons of Her Majesty’s horse.
She could now have disabled us whatever tricks Master Fothergill played with the wind. But the Moorish pirates like to take ship and cargo with the least damage possible, and would rather have the seamen alive than dead. They hold them for ransom and use them as slaves meanwhile. And if there is no ransom – as how should there be for most of the poor fellows? – then they are slaves till they die.
When the beak of the galley nearly overlapped our stern, Master Fothergill bore away and she shot past us. The after castle came into the sights of our starboard broadside, and the six guns fired in succession, not one of them missing at so close a range.
They were all at sixes and sevens in the galley, for we had killed both master and mate, as we afterwards learned. So the Landret had time to put about and fire the larboard broadside. That left the castle with the sea breeze blowing through it and the poop deck aslant on the stanchions.
The Moors were angry, for they had never expected such resistance. So they no longer cared what damage they did to their prize and fought to impale the Landret on the ram. The galley swung round in a circle. The beat of the drum quickened and their horns sounded. Then she came at us, storming through the water like a great swordfish with the unicorn aimed at our larboard quarter so that our broadside could not be brought to bear on her.
Master Fothergill luffed up into the wind, hoping to avoid the charge. But that did no good since the coxswain of the galley had only to touch the tiller to keep the beak aiming at us. Meanwhile the Landret was in stays, barely moving through the water with her sails flapping.
We gave ourselves up for lost. But there was Master Fothergill at the helm talking to the Landret as if she were his sweetheart, as indeed she was.
‘Come round, my little beauty!’ he entreated her through his teeth. ‘Pay off, my darling!’
And suddenly the great spritsail on the main flopped over, and she answered the helm and began to thump her bows into the seas.
Now, the coxswain of the galley must have thought that we were helpless, being accustomed to deep-laden, square-rigged caravels. As soon as he saw that we had the wind in our sails again, he altered course to ram us by the stern. The three balls from the bow guns crashed into our timbers above the waterline, but the beak missed us by a bare fathom. The bank of oars did not, splintering against the Landret’s stern and rudder. The soldiers in her bows tried to catch us with their grappling irons and board, but were thrown off their feet by the shock. So there she was at our mercy so long as we kept clear of her bow guns.
Our starboard cannon were now reloaded, using canisters of grapeshot as I had ordered. We came up under the galley’s stern and tore the rest of the castle to pieces, wiping the poop so clean of men that I could see the blood running down the ladders and out of the scuppers. Ourselves we had suffered no loss, since the Landret’s bulwarks were stout and sheltered us from the hand-guns of the soldiers. So we sheered off and resumed our course.
But then there came from the galley a great cry in Spanish:
‘Englishmen, do not leave us! For the love of God, do not leave us!’
And I, understanding that the galley slaves were Spaniards taken in battle or kidnapped from lonely villages along the coast, begged Master Fothergill to put back and rescue them. But he would not, saying that we had tempted fortune enough already.
‘Then give me my sword back!’ I said.
‘I never meant to keep it,’ he answered. ‘Why would you have it now?’
‘Because I will swim there sword in hand rather than leave them chained,’ I cried, for the time more a Castilian than an Englishman. ‘They have hunted me like a beast and would burn me if they caught me. But what have those men to do with the Holy Office? They are my neighbours and I love them. And now that I am free and they in chains, I will not suffer it!’
‘Well, the less dons the better, say I,’ answered Master Fothergill. ‘But we could do with the galley’s guns.’
So he put the Landret about. As we came down on them, we saw the overseer running up between the rowers and lashing them so that he was more like to have killed them than to encourage them to more speed. Then Master Fothergill gave the helm to his mate and picked up an old-fashioned long bow which he kept by him, always swearing that if it was good enough for his grandfather, it was good enough for him. And, notching an arrow to it, he nicely judged the pitch of the ship and shot the overseer clean through the body.
Then the galley slaves all rattled their chains, refusing to row and shouting, ‘Long live the Englishmen! What a shot!’
There were still scores of Moorish pirates crouching in the bows beneath the shelter of the platform. We passed across the galley’s stern and fired a broadside of grape into them over the heads of the rowers. They then bowed themselves, throwing down their arms and stretching out their hands, and an old white-robed scoundrel with a long beard struck their green flag with Turkish writing on it.
We came alongside and boarded her. The Landret’s armourer and his mate struck the chains off the galley slaves. There were no Englishmen amongst them, only Spaniards and Italians, some of whom had been slaves for ten years and more.
We had no use for our prize since we could neither tow her nor row her back to England. So we lifted the two smaller guns out of her and ransacked the cabin and our Moorish prisoners for all the gold and valuables they had. Then we tied them up and cleared away the wreckage and broken oars, telling the Spaniards to row for themselves as they had for their masters. We stood by them until they were on a safe course for Cartagena and then wished them God-speed.
The wind freshened and steadied, so that next day both watches could gather by the mainmast, leaving a single man at the helm. Then I saw how the honest men of Poole divided the spoil between themselves. Honest, I say. But most of them had raided up and down Channel on board the ships of the Sea Rovers – who are Protestants driven from their homes in France and the Low Countries – seizing prizes from all nations but the English, whose harbours they used.
The loot which each man took from the galley had been put into a common store. Master Fothergill now brought the locked chest from the great cabin and emptied it on to the deck. There was money of all sorts, together with rings, buckles and necklaces of silver and gold. These the Master weighed, writing down the value in a book. When all was totted up, the booty was divided two-thirds to the officers and one-third to the crew.
Then said Master Fothergi
ll, ‘Lads, what shall be the share of our passenger, Master Miles Philips, whose name of Alonso Hernandez better suits him?’
With that they all started to throw pieces of money into an empty powder keg, but I would not accept it, thinking their share very small for the dangers they had run. I declared that I owed to them all my life and liberty and had no need of any other gifts.
‘Well, if you will not,’ Master Fothergill said, ‘then as I am Master of the Landret and under God may do what I please, I appoint you to the command of all soldiers on board. And it makes no odds that you are the only one, for you are now an officer and must share our part.’
He would not take no for an answer, and all were so pleased with the jest that it would have been churlish to refuse. So I found myself with a bag of ducats, thalers, angels and sequins to the value of one hundred and fifty pounds sterling.
We passed the Straits of Gibraltar, and our voyage home was fair and fast with half a gale behind us which would have caused us to sweat at the pumps in the Jesus of Lubeck but carried the Landret safe and sound into the chops of the Channel. I saw no land but a glimpse of the Scillies when the rain lifted until we were roaring past Old Harry with the white cliffs of the Isle of Wight to starboard. There we tacked to and fro to wait for the tide, and at nightfall of the Fifteenth of February 1582 the Landret anchored in the fairway of Poole Harbour with the old buildings on the quay dark shadows against the moon and the church bells ringing to greet us. Through the Providence of Almighty God I was home again in my native country of England after fifteen years.
Extract of a letter of the year 1603 from Mr Miles Philips, Merchant Venturer of Plymouth in the County of Devon, to his sons, John and Bernardo.
… and when you were little more than babes you were wont to ask me why I, who was in some degree a seaman and soldier, never fought against the Spanish Armada of 1588, and I answered you always that then I was a peaceful trader.
But now that you are nine and ten years old and have more understanding of Kingdoms and of War, I would have you learn the truth and know that your father spoke with Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth in order that you may tell it in turn to your children. So I will take up my story from that happy night of 1582 when the Landret anchored in Poole Harbour.
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