The main question which this council had to decide was whether they should attack Drake’s fleet in Plymouth or leave it to windward of them as they passed up the Channel. Most of the Admirals, led by Alonzo de Leyva, plumped for the attack. Medina-Sidonia, on the other side, produced the King’s instructions that he should enter no port until he had joined forces with Parma. Some latitude, however, must have been allowed in these instructions for the question to have come up for consideration at all. In the end, the council decided, if decision is the word to use — for it appears to have been engaged in the practice of passing the buck rather than of coming to a decision — that the port should be attacked, if it could be done with advantage.
The Armada was then formed in battle order. The formation was described by Camden as a crescent, the convex side being the front, and charts made to illustrate the battles at the time clustered the ships together in the shape of a half-moon, so closely that they look as helpless as a flock of sheep rounded up by a sheepdog. As far as can be gathered, two of the four Italian galleasses led the way. They were followed by the Portuguese squadron of ten galleons and the Castilian, which was made up of the ten galleons of the Indian Guard and four of the fleet of New Spain. Each of these squadrons was accompanied by two pinnaces; they sailed in line abreast, and between them the San Martin, the eleventh of the Portuguese great ships, flew Medina-Sidonia’s flag. This long barrier of men-of-war would be the main battle. The four pinnaces followed, and behind them went the hulks and the victualling ships in the very middle of the fleet. The rear division consisted of five squadrons; the Andalusian, led by Pedro de Valdes, of fifteen galleons; and the Guipuscoan of seven with four pinnaces under Miguel de Oquendo, “the pride of the navy,” whose manœuvring of his ship at Terceira was held to have saved the General, Santa Cruz himself. These two squadrons were also formed line abreast, the Andalusian on the left, Oquendo on the right. Echeloned behind them were the two last squadrons. The Biscayan, commanded by Recalde, who was Medina-Sidonia’s Vice-Admiral, consisted of seven great ships and five pinnaces. But the Vice-Admiral, who kept his position on the left of the rear line, was given, in addition to his squadron, a big Portuguese galleon, the Santa Ana, as a flagship. On the right of the Biscayan squadron, but separated from it by almost the width of the two squadrons ahead, was the squadron of the Levant, commanded by Martin de Bertendona, Santa Cruz’s deputy at Lisbon. At the rear of each of these two last squadrons one of the two remaining galleasses closed the procession. Alonzo de Leyva, who had been appointed to succeed Medina-Sidonia should he be disabled, commanded the two right-hand rear squadrons as Recalde did the left. To reinforce the rear division, a light squadron of one small galleon and eighteen pinnaces was attached to it and occupied no fixed position in the plan of battle. Including the hulks, the fleet counted between a hundred and thirty and a hundred and fifty ships. But they were not all men-of-war. The galleons of Portugal, the Indian Guard, the fleet of New Spain and those built since the Enterprise had been seriously undertaken, that is during the last three years, were ships built to fight, varying from eleven hundred tons to four hundred at the lowest and heavily armed. But the others were converted merchantmen, as indeed was the case with the English fleet. It was believed by Medina-Sidonia that Howard would have Elizabeth’s men-of-war further east in the Narrow Seas. Therefore the bulk of his fighting ships sailed with him in the first division. The converted merchantmen, strengthened by a few first-class men-of-war, were placed in the second or rear division. It is to be remembered that the formation was designed to meet two fleets, the Queen’s Navy under Howard in front of it, and Drake’s Plymouth division in its rear. For that, too, it was thought, would be made up of big merchant ships fortified with a few ships of war.
In this shape, then, its greatest width at its rear, the Armada was formed up over against the Dodman. The wind had fallen and a thoroughly English drizzle of rain flattened the sea and obscured the air. Medina-Sidonia sailed along slowly as darkness fell, and then struck his sails. Pedro de Valdes, after the event, had a good deal to say to King Philip about Medina-Sidonia’s mismanagement of his fleet, and all that he says was sharpened by the bitterness of his own special misfortunes. He complains that Medina-Sidonia “spent all that day and night bearing but little sail.” But the Dodman is no more than twenty-five miles west of Plymouth, and it was still in doubt whether the fleet supposed to be in Plymouth was to be attacked. If it was to be attacked, certainly the Commander-in-Chief would rather hope to surprise it at dawn than to enter in the dark of night a harbour of which he knew nothing except that it was heavily fortified. All through the night of the 20th of July he drifted eastwards. Such wind as there was had shifted to west-north-west, and when morning broke he was still, as he meant to be, on the weather side of Rame Head and the Sound. But something had happened, something quite startling and unbelievable. Two leagues astern of him and to seaward, with the weather of him, was the English fleet, and, heeling well over on the port tack in a strengthening breeze, it was swooping down upon his rear. To make his position still more incredible, ships of war were beating out of Plymouth, and, tacking inshore, were making towards their comrades. This, no doubt, was Drake’s squadron, Medina-Sidonia inferred, and he was not surprised by its appearance; but whence the great fleet behind him had sprung, he was at a loss to imagine.
This is what had happened. During the night of the 19th, Howard had succeeded in warping out of the harbour fifty-four ships, and with these he had tacked into the wind right across the front of the Armada. By daybreak of the 20th he was abreast of the Eddystone and clear of the land. The wind died away, the rain fell, and partly to escape detection, partly not to drift astern, he lowered his sails. All through the day he lay unseen, but there were times when the clouds lightened and objects against the western sky were shown up in a dark silhouette. He saw the Armada hove-to twelve miles or so out from the Dodman while the war-council was in progress. With the fall of night, the south-westerly wind swung over a little to the north of west. That was all to the English advantage. He had room, he could make a long board out to the south and a short board in to the land, and before dawn he was astern of the Armada and ready to bear down upon it in line ahead. The ships beating out of Plymouth inshore were not, of course, Drake’s squadron at all. Drake was with Howard, and the ships which the Spaniards saw beating out of the Sound were that considerable portion of Howard’s fleet which had not finished victualling on the night of the 19th and had been detained throughout the day of the 20th by the failure of the wind.
Medina-Sidonia hoisted the Royal Standard at the fore as the signal to engage, and altered his course. From standing up the Channel, he now hauled in his sheets and beat towards the land. He meant either to intercept the ships emerging from the Sound whilst he had the weather of them, or by a series of tacks to get the weather of Howard’s fleet. But he had nothing like the necessary speed for that manœuvre. His high sea-citadels in a beat to windward were out-classed by the snug, low-lying craft built by John Hawkins. He was hampered, moreover, by the hulks, the slow-moving provision and hospital ships stationed between his two divisions. He was under the same restrictions as destroyers escorting a convoy. Their pace must be no swifter than the slowest of the ships convoyed. So, whilst he lumbered across towards the Cornish coast, the English fleet swept across the starboard wing of the rear division, firing volleys at it at long range, and closed in upon Recalde’s port or left-hand wing. Still in line ahead, they fired with a rapidity and a precision of aim startling to the enemy. Recalde in his Portuguese flagship, the Santa Ana, and the Gran-Grin, a galleon of eleven hundred tons and the biggest of his Biscayan squadron, stood gallantly up to the broadsides. But the ships following them fell away in a huddle towards the main battle fleet. The Santa Ana and the Gran-Grin were the weathermost ships of the left wing, and upon them the English concentrated their fire. Recalde’s galleon suffered the most, her forestay was cut through, her rigging damaged and two round sho
t lodged in her foremast. She was rescued by Medina-Sidonia, who bore up beside her and came right into the wind. He was attacked by two of the Queen’s ships, but the Andalusian squadron with Pedro de Valdes and the main battle formed up again behind him. The engagement, which had begun at nine o’clock in the morning, had now lasted for two hours, and Howard hoisted the signal to break off. The forty ships which had been left behind in Plymouth Harbour had now worked their way to him, and the Spaniards were too far to leeward of the Mewstone to have any chance of entering the Sound. Plymouth was safe.
At the same time a change was noticeable in the spirit of the English. They were no less sure of the good account they were going to give, but they had tasted of their adversary. They had found him of a greater valour than they had expected. A new note of respect is evident in their letters. Drake makes light of the engagement itself. To him it was little more than a skirmish, but on the day on which it had taken place he wrote off at Howard’s order a letter of warning to Lord Henry Seymour in the Narrow Seas. “The 21st we had them in chase, and so coming up unto them, there hath passed some cannon shot between some of our fleet and some of them, and as far as we perceive, they are determined to sell their lives with blows.” The ships serving under Seymour are to be, therefore, “put into the best and strongest manner you may.” He took a little of the sharpness off the warning by an assurance that the fleet would do everything possible, but adds a postscript in which confidence and anxiety are at odds.
“This letter, my honourable good Lord, is sent in haste. The fleet of Spaniards is somewhat above a hundred sails, many great ships; but truly I think not half of them men-of-war. Haste.” The letter was “written aboard Her Majesty’s good ship the Revenge, off of Start, the 21st, late in the evening 1588,” and the superscription has the same urgency:
“To the Right Honourable, the Lord Henry Seymour, Admiral of H.M.’s Navy in the Narrow Seas; or in absence to Sir Wm. Winter Knt. give these with speed. Haste, post haste.”
The Revenge, on which Drake flew his pennon of Vice-Admiral, was a vessel of five hundred tons. It carried that day as a privileged visitor one of Walsingham’s best spies in Spain, Nicholas Ouseley, who wrote two days later to his Chief a remarkable tribute to the naval skill shown by the Armada’s disposition and manœuvres. “They have reported to me they are now left a hundred and fifty sail divided, as I do see, twelve in a squadron and do keep such excellent good order in their fight that if God do not miraculously work, we shall have wherein to employ ourselves for many days.”
Howard wrote in the same strain to Walsingham whilst he was still in sight of Plymouth and immediately after he had broken off the engagement. “In this fight we made some of them to bear room to stop their leaks; notwithstanding we durst not adventure to put in among them, their fleet being so strong;” and more significant still is the appeal he sent the next day to the Earl of Sussex, Captain of Portsmouth, that all the ships which were ready, even if they had only food for two days on board, should be sent to join him. They would find him bearing east-north-east and following the Spanish fleet.
Howard broke off the engagement, not through any doubt in his ships or his men, but because he was still without his full complement. He had beaten out to the Eddystone Rock with fifty-four ships. The squadron which Medina-Sidonia had sought to intercept added eight or nine to him; he had still, therefore, less than half the number at his disposal which the Spanish Admiral commanded. He hove-to, accordingly, off Plymouth and waited for the rest. There is no certainty possible about the exact numbers of the ships on either side, but it is probable that when Howard set sail again in the afternoon he had nearly a hundred ships of varying tonnage and fighting power against Medina-Sidonia’s hundred and thirty. But the English ships had the valuable advantage of a much heavier artillery and infinitely better gunnery. Three shots to one was the difference in the rate of fire between the two fleets, and this was not due so much to incompetence in the Spanish gunners as to the Spanish theory of sea-warfare. The object of heavy guns on Medina-Sidonia’s galleons was to destroy the sails and masts of the enemy so that his vessels could be grappled and boarded; on the English ships it was simply to sink the adversaries’ craft or so to cripple them that, unable to defend themselves, they fell astern and became prizes.
Medina-Sidonia did not stay to put the two theories to the proof. His orders were to reach Dunkirk; and he wanted as little fighting as possible on the way. Recalde’s flagship, the Santa Ana, was in a precarious state. Pedro de Valdes sent a pinnace to Recalde asking him what help he needed. The Santa Ana had been hulled, and the big shot buried in her foremast made it impossible for her to keep up with the other ships of that left rear wing. She was taken in tow and brought into the safety of the main battle, where Recalde set his crew to repair her injuries. The Armada moved slowly onwards. From every headland the flowing columns of black smoke rose into the air as she passed. The long green ridge of the Bolt passed on the message to Prawle Point, and Prawle Point to the cliffs above the Start.
But the afternoon did not pass without a couple of those happy accidents which today seem to be the monopoly of our enemies. At four o’clock the San Salvador, a ship of nine hundred and fifty tons by her Spanish register, spoiled herself with her powder, to use the phrase of Nicholas Ouseley. She carried the Paymaster-General of the Armada, and some, if not all, of the King’s treasure. She was thus the last ship in the fleet of which the loss would be tolerable. It is said that a Flemish gunner had suffered an injustice at the hands of a Spanish soldier and set fire to a couple of powder-barrels in revenge. If the story is true, the Flemish gunner certainly had his revenge in overflowing measure. The San Salvador exploded. The two upper decks of her high poop were blown into the air and her stern flung out into the sea. Howard with his leading ships pressed forward, but Medina-Sidonia went about in his flagship, fired a gun to his main battle to follow his example, and sent his big oared galleasses to the rescue. Howard did not press the attack. The galleasses reached the San Salvador indeed before any of the English could get near. She was brought up into the main battle, and the fire on board of her was extinguished.
But later on in the evening, as the Armada approached the Start, the second disaster befell her. Pedro de Valdes’ ship, Nuestra Señora del Rosario, fell foul of two of the ships from Biscay. The first broke his foreyard, and before he could lower it the second carried away his bowsprit. Don Pedro put up his tiller, but Our Lady of the Rosary, like many another lady, was stubborn to her steersman, and she had not yet come into the wind when her foremast broke clean off at the level of the deck and fell across her mainyard. Pedro sent off a pinnace immediately to the San Martin, praying his General to stand by him. The flagship was near enough for a hawser to be carried to Nuestra Señora del Rosario, but when the strain came upon it, it parted. Pedro de Valdes then fired four pieces of ordnance to emphasize his distress; and at this point Diego Flores de Valdes, a kinsman of Don Pedro and the naval adviser of Medina-Sidonia, interfered. The Spanish fleet was already in some confusion. The proper position of the San Martin was nowhere near Nuestra Señora del Rosario. Diego urged upon his Chief that unless he resumed the lead, half of his ships would be missing in the morning. Medina-Sidonia listened to this advice, as he was bound to do. He ordered two galleons, the San Cristobal and the San Francisco, with a pinnace to escort the damaged vessel and a galleasse to take her in tow. He himself sailed on. Don Pedro made a great tale to King Philip afterwards about his Chief’s inhumanity and cowardice, but it is a little difficult to understand what more the Duke should have done. His place was at the head of the Armada. If fault is to be found, it is with the Captains of the ships left behind to succour the Señora del Rosario. Their story is that they were unable to approach her. The wind and the sea were rising, and if Don Pedro’s ship had drifted into the troubled waters off Start Point, for their own safety they would have been forced to hold aloof. But they stayed by her until nine o’clock, when the night was fall
ing and the columns of smoke upon the headlands were changing into pyramids of fire. Then a small converted merchant ship belonging to the Levant Company of London, the Margaret and John, of two hundred and ten tons, appeared upon the scene; and the protecting craft, no doubt taking her for one of the vanguard of the English fleet, left Our Lady of the Rosary to the orchard of the sea.
The English fleet, in fact, was hove-to between Salcombe and Prawle Point, six miles to the west, whilst a council of war was held. Plymouth was safe; so too were Ireland and Scotland. What now was the intention of the Armada? Amongst the experienced sailors who took part in this council there was, and could be, but one verdict, the Isle of Wight. With the Isle of Wight in his possession, the Spaniard would be master of the safe waters of the Solent for his ships, a base easily defended for his supplies from France and Spain, and an excellent starting-point for his army of invasion. It was agreed, therefore, to bring the Armada to battle before it reached the Needles. The council separated; Howard and Drake sent their letters ashore. Was it then that Howard added his passionate appeal?— “Sir, for the love of God and our country, let us have with some speed some great shot sent us of all bigness; for this service will continue long; and some powder with it.” It was a prayer repeated day after day until the danger of invasion ceased. Equipment, please! For God’s mercy, equipment!
Complete Works of a E W Mason Page 893