VI.

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA. A. D. 1588.

Armada signifies, in Spanish, a Sea Army; and Philip the Second named the great fleet which he sent forth in 1588 “invincible,” because he thought that it must prevail against the forces of the heretic Hollanders and English, who excited his disgust and anger much more than the Moslem enemies with whom we have seen him last engaged.

Philip II, son of Charles V, was born at Valladolid, in 1527, and, by the abdication of his father, became King of Spain in 1556. His first wife was Maria, of Portugal, and his second was Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII.

Philip was the most powerful prince of his time. Spain, Naples, Sicily, the Milanais, Franche Comté, the Low Countries, Tunis, Oran, the Cape Verdes, Canaries, and a great part of the Americas owned his sway.

Always a fanatic, as he advanced in years the extermination of heretics became his one passion. He sent the pitiless Duke of Alva to the Low Countries, where, however, all his cruelties and persecutions could not prevent the spread of the Reformed religion. Fortunately for England, as we shall see, the Low Countries secured their independence in 1581.

In Spain, Philip was employing the Inquisition against Moors and heretics; and executions were depopulating the Peninsula and ruining the country. It was only by serious insurrections that the Milanese resisted the establishment of the Inquisition there; but to make up for that, and for his loss of the Low Countries, Philip had made the conquest of Portugal, and had extended to that country the practices of Spain.

Elizabeth of England had not only established heretical practices in her realm, but had executed Mary Stuart, and also added to her offences, in his eyes, by sending sympathy and assistance to the persecuted Flemings.

Brooding over these things, in his secret, silent way, Philip determined to invade England, reëstablish Catholicism, and avenge the Queen of Scots.

To this end he devoted some years to the assembling of the most tremendous fleet which the world, up to that time, had seen.

The Spanish nobility were encouraged to join in this new crusade, and responded to the invitation in crowds. The ships, collectively, were to carry more than three thousand guns. A Vicar-General of the Inquisition was to accompany the fleet, and establish the Inquisition in England; and it has been affirmed that complete sets of instruments of torture were also taken.

The Duke of Parma, with a large army, was to join the Armada from Belgium, and insure the conquest. This, we shall see, was prevented by the noble and faithful conduct of Holland, which, in spite of legitimate cause of complaint against England, in the recent design of the Earl of Leicester, came nobly to the rescue, and blockaded Parma, so that he and his troops were rendered unavailable. But for this, and some mistakes of the naval commanders, in all probability English history would have been very different. Many reports of the expedition had reached England, but just about the time it was ready Elizabeth’s fears had been lulled by the prospect of successful negotiations, and many of her advisers thought the threatened expedition would never approach English shores.

Elizabeth, fortunately for England, had revived the navy, as well as the merchant service, which had been so greatly neglected between the death of her father and her own accession.

The wealthier nobles and citizens, encouraged by the queen, built many men-of-war, and the Royal navy was soon able to take the sea with 20,000 fighting men.

The prudence and foresight of the queen in these measures was rewarded by the success of her seamen in disposing of a force such as had hardly ever been arrayed against any country, by sea. Philip, “who from his closet in Madrid aspired to govern the world,” and who hated Protestantism with so great a hatred that he declared “if his own son was a heretic he would carry wood to burn him,” had good and devoted soldiers to carry out his views. The Duke of Alva was inconceivably cold-blooded and cruel, yet he was a man of great ability. No more perfect chevalier and enlightened soldier existed than the young Don John, whose career was so short; and the famous Duke of Parma, the greatest general of the day, was to command the army of invasion; while the Duke of Medina Sidonia, one of the highest grandees of Spain, was a most gallant soldier. He was no seaman, and was surrounded by a staff of soldiers, or else there might have been a different story to tell of Philip’s Armada. But that does not detract from the Duke’s personal devotion and gallantry; and the expedition was accompanied by hundreds of officers of like personal character.

In regard to the Armada and its destination, Philip at first preserved the secrecy which was so consonant with his nature; but at last, when publicity could no longer be avoided, he had every dock-yard and arsenal in his dominions resounding with the hum and noise of a busy multitude, working day and night, to provide the means necessary to accomplish his purpose. New ships were built, and old ones repaired; while immense quantities of military stores were forwarded to the Netherlands, a convenient base of supplies for the invaders.

The New World was then pouring its treasures into Philip’s coffers, the product of the enslavement of whole nations, and this immense wealth Philip poured out in turn, lavishly, to accomplish his darling ambition, which was the subjection of all that remained free in the Old World.

“Rendezvous for the shipment of seamen were opened in every seaport town; while throughout Philip’s vast dominions there was not a hamlet so insignificant, or a cottage so lowly, but that the recruiting sergeant made his way to it, in his eagerness to raise troops for the grand army, which, blessed by the Pope, and led by the famous Duke of Parma, was destined, it was confidently believed, to march in triumph through the streets of London, and, by one sweeping _auto-da-fé_, extirpate heresy from that accursed land which every Spanish Catholic was taught to regard as the stronghold of the devil.”

“Volunteers of every degree, and from every corner of Europe, hastened to enlist under the banner of Castile. Of these, many were religious bigots, impelled to the crusade against English heretics by fanatic zeal; a few, men of exalted character, not unknown to fame; but by far the greater number, needy adventurers, seeking for spoil. At length, in April, 1588, after nearly three years of preparation, the army of invasion, 60,000 strong, was concentrated at Dunkirk and Nieuport, where large, flat-bottomed transports were built, ready for its reception.

“But still the Armada, that was to convoy the transports, and cover the landing of the troops on their arrival in England, loitered in Lisbon, waiting for a favorable wind. Toward the end of May it moved out of the Tagus by detachments, and passing the dangerous shoals called the Cachopos in safety, took its departure from Cape Roca, the westernmost point of Portugal, and of the continent of Europe, on June 1st, sailing due north, with a light southwesterly breeze. The fleet consisted in all of one hundred and thirty-two vessels, carrying 3165 guns, 21,639 soldiers, 8745 seamen, and 2088 galley slaves; and its aggregate burden was not less than 65,000 tons.”

The San Martin, a vessel of fifty guns, belonging to the contingent furnished by Portugal, carried the flag of the commander-in-chief, the Duke de Medina Sidonia, already mentioned.

This great Armada was very unwieldy, and contained many dull sailers, so that, making its way at the average rate of only about thirteen miles a day, it passed the Berlingas, crept by Figuera, Oporto and Vigo, and finally lay becalmed off Cape Finisterre. Up to this time the winds, if baffling, had been moderate, the weather pleasant, and the sea smooth as glass. But now the Spanish fleet was assailed by a tempest, which might be called fearful, even in the stormy Bay of Biscay.

Blowing at first fitfully, and in heavy squalls, it by nightfall settled into a steady gale from west-northwest, driving before it a tremendous sea, the surges of which broke with a roar distinctly heard above the fierce howling of the wind. Yet, though the sea ran high, it was not irregular, and the Armada, under snug canvas, was making good weather of it, when, a little after midnight, the wind shifted very suddenly to northeast, blowing with the violence of a tornado, and taking every ship under square sail flat aback. Some of the vessels, gathering sternboard, lost their rudders, which were in that day very insecure; some, thrown on their beam-ends, were forced to cut away their masts and throw overboard their guns; while all lost sails and top-hamper, and not a few the upper deck cabins, at that time so lofty.

When day broke the spectacle was presented of a whole fleet helplessly adrift upon the ocean. Many of the largest and finest vessels were lying in the trough of the sea, which every now and then made a clean breach over them, each time carrying off some of the crews. Among the fleet was a huge Portuguese galley, the Diana, which had been knocked down by the shift of wind, lost her masts and oars, and was lying on her side, gradually filling with water, and fast settling by the stern. The rest of the vessels were powerless to assist her, and she soon sank before their eyes, carrying down every soul belonging to her, including, of course, the poor galley slaves chained to her oars.

Then, to add to the horrors of storm and shipwreck, a mutiny broke out among the rowers of the galley Vasana (a motley crew of Turkish and Moorish prisoners and Christian felons), who had been long watching for an opportunity to secure their freedom; and now, seeing their galley to windward of all the vessels of the Armada, with the exception of the Capitana galley, which was a mile away from them, they judged the occasion favorable for the accomplishment of their purpose. Led by a Welshman, named David Gwynne, the mutinous galley-slaves attacked the sailors and soldiers of the Vasana, and as they exceeded them in number, and the free men had no time to seize their arms, while the slaves were armed with stilettoes made of all kinds of metal, and carefully concealed for such an occasion, they quite easily prevailed. The captain of the Capitana, seeing that something was wrong on board the Vasana, ran down as close to her as the heavy sea would permit, and, finding her already in possession of the Welshman and his fellow galley-slaves, poured a broadside into her, which cut her up terribly, and filled her decks with more killed and wounded men. At this critical moment, while engaged with an enemy without, the crew of the Capitana found themselves threatened with a greater danger from within. Their own slaves now rose, broke their chains, and took

## part in the engagement. It is not known whether they had any previous

knowledge of an attempt on board the Vasana, or whether it was the effect of example. At any rate, they rushed upon their late masters and oppressors with such weapons as they had concealed, or could seize at the moment, and attacked them with desperate and irresistible fury and resolution. The struggle, in the midst of the gale, for the possession of the Capitana, was furious but brief. It ended in the triumph of the galley-slaves, who, like their fellows on board the Vasana, spared no rank nor age. The massacre was soon over, and the bodies thrown into the water; and the gale soon after abating, the galleys were run into Bayonne, where, Motley says, Gwynne was graciously received by Henry of Navarre. The crippled Armada, having lost three of its finest galleys, managed to creep into the different ports on the northern shore of Spain.

Once more they all made rendezvous at Corunna, and after a month spent in repairs, sailed again, on July 22d, for Calais Roads.

With fair winds and fine weather, the Spanish fleet struck soundings in the English channel on July 28th, and the following day, in the afternoon, were in sight of the Lizard, whence they were seen and recognized, and soon, by bonfires, and other preconcerted signals, all England knew that the long threatened danger was close at hand; and, without faltering, one and all prepared to meet it.

The most of the English fleet was in Plymouth at the time. Many of the principal officers were on shore, playing at bowls, and otherwise amusing themselves, and the wind was blowing directly into the harbor, preventing the fleet from pulling to sea. But the commander-in-chief, Lord Howard of Effingham, was equal to the emergency; summoning all to instant exertion; and before daylight the following morning sixty-seven of his best ships had been, with extreme labor and difficulty, towed and kedged into deep water, and, commanded by such men as Drake, Frobisher, and Hawkins, were off the Eddystone, keeping a sharp lookout for the Spaniards. Every hour additional vessels were joining the English fleet.

During the whole forenoon the wind was very light, and the weather thick; but towards evening a fine south-west wind set in, and the mist rising, the two fleets discovered each other.

The Armada, in a half-moon, and in complete battle array, was so compactly drawn up that its flanking vessels were distributed but seven miles from each other; and all were bearing steadily up channel. The Spanish guns were so numerous, and so much heavier in calibre than anything the English carried, that the Lord High Admiral saw at once that the force at his command could not successfully confront the enemy. He therefore permitted them to pass without firing a shot; but hung closely upon their rear, in hopes of cutting off any vessels which might chance to fall astern of the others. It was not until the next day, Sunday, July 31st, that an opportunity offered for attacking to advantage. Then, “sending a pinnace, called the Defiance, before him, to denounce war against the enemy, by the discharge of all her guns,” Howard at once opened fire from his own ship, the Royal Oak, upon a large galleon, commanded by Don Alphonso de Leyva, which he took to be the flag-ship of the Spanish commander-in-chief.

In the meantime, the combined squadrons of Drake, Frobisher and Hawkins opened furiously upon the fleet of Biscay, or of northern Spain, which, consisting of fourteen vessels, and carrying 302 guns, was commanded by Vice-admiral Recalde, an officer of great experience. This squadron had been formed into a rear guard, in expectation of just such an attack.

Recalde maintained the unequal fight for some hours, and with great obstinacy; all the while endeavoring to get within small-arm range of the English, which he knew would be fatal to them, as he had a large force of arquebusiers embarked in his division.

But his wary antagonists, whose vessels, “light, weatherly and nimble, sailed six feet to the Spaniards’ two, and tacked twice to their once,” evaded every effort to close, and keeping at long range, inflicted much damage upon their enemy without receiving any themselves.

At length, seeing how matters stood, the Duke Medina Sidonia signaled to Recalde to join the main body of the fleet; and, hoisting the Royal standard of Spain at his main, drew out his whole force in order of battle, and endeavored to bring on a general engagement. This Howard prudently avoided, and so the Spaniards had to keep on their course again, up channel, and “maintain a running fight of it;” the English now, as before, hanging on their rear, and receiving constant reinforcements from their seaport towns, in full view of which, as the Armada hugged the English shore, Howard, with his gallant ships and men, was passing.

In these days London alone sent forth fifty armed ships.

The night which followed was one fraught with disaster to the Spaniards. The gunner of the Santa Anna, a Fleming by birth, who had been reprimanded by his captain for some neglect of duty, in revenge laid a train to the magazine, and blew up all the after part of the vessel, with more than half her officers and crew.

The vessel nearest the Santa Anna hurried to her assistance, and was engaged in rescuing the survivors, when, in the darkness and confusion, two galleys fell foul of the flagship of the Andalusian squadron, and carried away her foremast close to the deck, so that she dropped astern of the Armada, and, the night being very dark, was soon lost sight of by her friends, and assailed by her vigilant foes.

Being well manned, and carrying fifty guns, she maintained her defence until daylight, when, finding the English hemming her in on all sides, Don Pedro de Valdez, the Admiral, struck his flag to Drake, in the Revenge, much to the chagrin of Frobisher and Hawkins, who had hoped to make prize of her themselves.

Don Pedro, who was courteously received by Drake, remained on board the Revenge until the 10th of August; so that he was an eye witness of all the subsequent events, and of the final discomfiture of his countrymen.

Drake sent the captain of the Santa Anna, “a prisoner, to Dartmouth, and left the money on board the prize, to be plundered by his men.”

All the following day was spent by the Duke in rearranging his fleet; and after the vessels were in the stations assigned them, each captain had written orders not to leave that station, under penalty of death.

In this new order the rear guard was increased to forty-three vessels, and placed under the command of Don Alphonso de Leyva, who had orders to avoid skirmishing as much as possible, but to lose no opportunity of bringing on a general engagement, or decisive battle.

On the 2d of August, at daylight, the wind shifted to the northeast, whereupon the Spanish, being to windward, bore down upon the English under full sail. But the latter also squared away, and having the advantage of greater speed, refused, as before, to allow their enemy to close with them; so the engagement was without result, there being little loss on the part of the Spaniards, while the only Englishman killed was a Mr. Cock, who was bravely fighting the enemy in a small vessel of his own.

Towards evening the wind backed to the west again, and the Armada once more continued its course toward Calais.

On the 3d of August there was a suspension of hostilities, and the Lord High Admiral received a supply of powder and ball, and a reinforcement of ships, and intended to attack the enemy in the middle of the night, but was prevented by a calm.

On the 4th, however, a straggler from the Spanish fleet was made prize of by the English.

This brought on a sharp engagement between the Spanish rear guard and the English advance, under Frobisher, which would have resulted in Frobisher’s capture had not Howard himself gone to the rescue, in the “Ark-Royal, followed by the Lion, the Bear, the Bull, the Elizabeth, and a great number of smaller vessels.” The fighting was for some time severe, but as soon as Frobisher was relieved, Howard, observing that the Duke was approaching, with the main body of the Spanish fleet, prudently gave the order to retire. It was, indeed, high time, for the Ark-Royal was so badly crippled that she had to be towed out of action.

The Lord High Admiral afterwards knighted Lord Thomas Howard, Lord Sheffield, Townsend, Hawkins and Frobisher, for their gallantry on this occasion; but a convincing proof that the English had the worst of it in the encounter is the determination of a council of war “not to make any further attempt upon the enemy until they should be arrived in the Straits of Dover, where the Lord Henry Seymour and Sir William Winter were lying in wait for them.”

So the Armada kept on its way, unmolested, and with a fair wind, past Hastings and Dungeness, until it got to the north of the Varne, an extensive shoal in the Channel.

Then it left the English coast, and hauled up for Calais Road, where it anchored on the afternoon of Saturday, August 6th, close in to shore, with the Castle bearing from the centre of the fleet due east.

The English followed, and anchored two miles outside. Strengthened by the accession of Seymour’s and Winter’s squadron, they now numbered one hundred and forty sail--many of them large ships, but the majority small.

Every day since he had been in the Channel the Spanish commander-in-chief had despatched a messenger to the French coast, to proceed by land, and warn the Duke of Parma of the approach of the Armada, and to impress upon him the necessity of his being ready to make his descent upon England the moment the fleet reached Calais; and especially he desired Parma to send him, at once, pilots for the French and Flemish coasts, which those in the fleet had no knowledge of. To his bitter disappointment, on reaching Calais he found no preparation of any kind, and none of his requests complied with. All that night, and all day of August 7th, the vast Armada lay idly at anchor, vainly watching for the coming of Parma’s army, and not knowing that its egress from Nieuport and Dunkirk was a simple impossibility, since the fleets of Holland and Zealand were in full possession of all the narrow channels between Nieuport and Hils Banks and the Flemish shore; and Parma had not a single vessel of war to oppose to them.

On the evening of the 7th the appearance of the weather caused great anxiety to the seamen of the Armada, the sun setting in a dense bank of clouds, and they realized, much more fully than the soldiers on board, the insecurity of their anchorage; as a northwest gale, likely to rise at any moment, would drive them upon the treacherous quicksands of the French coast.

While this apprehension was troubling the seamen of the Armada, the English were fearful least Parma’s transports, eluding the vigilance of the Dutch cruisers, should suddenly heave in sight. But, as the evening drew on, and they observed the threatening sky, and heard the increasing surf upon the shore, both of which boded a storm, they became reassured. A little before midnight of the 7th, the weather being very thick, and a strong current setting towards the Spanish fleet, the English prepared to send in among them eight fire-ships, which they had prepared as soon as they found the enemy anchored close together. The English captains Young and Prowse towed them in, directing their course, and firing them with great coolness and judgment. A great panic resulted among the Spaniards, for they knew that the English had in their service an Italian, who, three years before, had created great havoc and destruction at Antwerp, by ingenious floating torpedoes or mines, and they no sooner saw the fire-ships, “all alight with flame, from their keelsons to their mast-heads,” and bearing down upon them, than they imagined Giannibelli and his infernal machines in their midst. Shouts of “we are lost!” passed through the fleet, but in the midst of the panic the Duke de Medina Sidonia (who had been warned by Philip to be on his guard lest the dreaded Drake should burn his vessels) maintained his composure. He at once made the signal agreed upon, to cut cables and stand clear of the danger; and the Armada was soon under sail, and out of harm’s way from fire. But the fright and confusion had been so great that, next morning, when the Duke wished to rally his fleet and return to his anchorage, many ships were out of signal distance, some far at sea, and others among the shoals of the coast of Flanders.

The 8th of August dawned with squally, southwest weather, and the English observed some of the Spanish vessels to be crippled, and drifting to leeward, while the San Lorenzo, flag-ship of the squadron of galleasses (the class of large vessels which had contributed so much to the victory of Lepanto), was endeavoring to get into the harbor of Calais. Her rudder was gone, and, although her rowers were endeavoring to keep her in the narrow channel leading to the town, she yawed widely across it, and finally grounded on a sand bank near the town. In this position she was attacked by the boats of the English fleet, and after a stubborn resistance, in which many fell on both sides, was boarded and carried. The Govenor of Calais claimed her as of right pertaining to him, and the English, just then not caring to quarrel with the French, gave her up to him, but not before they had plundered her.

The boat expedition no sooner returned, than Howard bore up for the Armada, the bulk of which was then off Gravelines, sailing in double Echelon, with flanks protected “by the three remaining galleasses, and the great galleons of Portugal.” The Duke Medina Sidonia at once hauled by the wind, with signal flying for close action, and the Royal standard at his fore. But the English had speed, handiness, and the weather gauge in their favor, and were enabled, as before, to choose their own distance, and after a desultory fight of six hours, the Duke (finding he was losing men, and had three of his best ships sunk, as many more put hors-de-combat, and having exhausted his shot, without a chance of bringing Howard within boarding distance, or of Parma’s coming out to join him) telegraphed to the fleet “to make its way to Spain, north about the British Isles,” and then himself kept away for the North Sea.

The sands of Zealand threatened him on one hand, and the hardy English seamen on the other; and with these odds against him, the proud Spaniard had no resource left but to retreat.

That night it blew a strong breeze from the north, and the next day some of the Spanish vessels were in great danger from the Dutch shoals, but a shift of wind saved them.

The English kept close after them until August 12th, when, being themselves short of provisions and ammunition, they came by the wind, and stood back for their own shores, where, of course, the intelligence they brought caused great joy, after the narrow escape from invasion.

An intelligent officer, Commodore Foxhall A. Parker, United States Navy, commenting upon these actions, says, “it has been asserted that Medina Sidonia so dreaded the passage around the grim Hebrides that he was upon the point of surrender to Howard, when he last approached him, but was dissuaded from doing so by the Ecclesiastics on board his vessel; but this story, as well as one told by the Spanish soldiers who were taken prisoners in the fight of August 8th, and who wished to curry favor with their captors, that this fight ‘far exceeded the battle of Lepanto,’ may be safely classed with the marvelous relations of the ‘intelligent contraband,’ and the ‘reliable gentleman just from Richmond,’ so often brought to the front during the great civil war in America. Why, indeed, should the Duke have surrendered to a force unable to fire a shot at him, and which, had it ventured within boarding distance of the Armada, must have inevitably fallen into his hands? Was not the Saint Matthew, when assailed in a sorely crippled condition by a whole squadron, defended for two long hours? And did not several Spanish vessels, refusing to strike when they were in a sinking condition, go down with their colors flying? Was, then, the Commander-in-chief less courageous than his subordinates? Let the truth be told. Medina Sidonia, from his want of experience at sea, was utterly disqualified to command the great fleet entrusted to his care; but Spain possessed no braver man than he.”

The history of the Armada, after Howard left it, is one of shipwreck and disaster. Many of its vessels foundered at sea, and many more were lost on the rocky coasts of Scotland and Ireland; and the crews of some, who managed to reach the land, were massacred by the savage inhabitants of the west of Ireland.

Few of the leaders lived to return to their native land, and there was hardly a family in Spain that was not in mourning.

Upon learning of the disaster Philip affected great calmness, and merely remarked, “I did not send my fleet to combat the tempest, and I thank God, who has made me able to repair this loss.”

But, in spite of that, his disappointment was terrible, and in his fierce and savage resentment at the depression of his people he cut short all mourning by proclamation. A merchant of Lisbon, who imprudently allowed himself to express some joy at the defeat of the conqueror of his nation, was hanged by order of Philip--so that, as Motley says, “men were reminded that one could neither laugh nor cry in Spanish dominions.”

In other parts of Europe great joy was felt, for both England and the Continent were delivered from the nightmare of universal empire and the Inquisition. Well might England rejoice, and proceed to build up a more powerful navy.

The Spanish marine was irretrievably wrecked, and never again rose to its former position; and the loss of the preponderance of Spain in European affairs began at this time.

The commander first selected for the Armada, Alvaro de Bazan, a fine seaman, died just before it left Lisbon. He would, no doubt, have handled it better than Medina Sidonia; and he certainly would have attacked the wind-bound English fleet in Plymouth, in spite of orders, and if he had done so would probably have destroyed it.

Philip had disregarded the advice of Parma and Santa Cruz, experienced soldiers, to secure a point in Flanders, before attacking England; and he erred in binding down Medina Sidonia not to take the initiative and attack the English fleet until he had been joined by Parma’s transports.

We may add a few words concerning Philip II. He survived the loss of his Armada ten years; having succeeded in making his memory thoroughly odious. Philip was gifted with high capacity, but was sombre, inflexible and bloody minded. He was at the same time vindictive, pusillanimous and cruel; full of joy at an _auto-da-fè_, while he trembled during a battle. To sanguinary fanaticism he added violence of temper almost bestial in its exhibition. He was close and deceptive in politics--always covering himself and his designs with the mask of religion. He seemed, indeed, not to have a human heart in his breast; and yet he had a taste for the fine arts--loving painting, but even better, architecture, in which latter he was learned. He finished the Escorial and beautified Madrid, which he made the capital of Spain.

Besides the foregoing his sole pleasure was the chase; while, unlike his father, he was generous to those who served him, and very sober in living and simple in dress.

[Illustration: A SPANISH GALLEASS OF THE 16TH CENTURY.]

[Illustration: EVENTS SUCCEEDING THE ARMADA.--SIR FRANCIS DRAKE IN CENTRAL AMERICA.]