The Spanish Armadas by Winston Graham
In the first stages of the battle the English did not divide into squadrons. Howard was aboard his flagship, the Ark – sometimes called the Ark Ralegh because she had been designed for Ralegh and sold by him to the Queen – a vessel of eight hundred tons with a crew of four hundred, and Drake sailed in the Revenge, of five hundred tons with a crew of two hundred and fifty. As against a Spanish total of one hundred and thirty-seven ships of all sizes, the English had, in the neighbourhood of Plymouth at the beginning of the fight, about sixty-four. (Another fleet of forty-odd vessels under Lord Henry Seymour was guarding the Thames and Dover against a surprise landing there.) But, in order to have such ships as he brought out of Plymouth fully manned, Howard had to strip some of his ships bare and leave them to be provisioned and crewed later, so that only a proportion of the sixty-four were at first in the battle. If, however, the total fleets of England and Spain confronted each other, as they did in the battle of Gravelines, the Spanish still had a big advantage in fire power. The average Spanish ship had a broadside twice as heavy as the English, and while the English had many more smaller long-range pieces, the Spanish carried three times as many heavy cannon as the English and nearly eight times as many perrier types. So that at close quarters they had every chance of crippling the English ships and boarding them. Nor is there much to be said for the theory that the Spanish guns were inferior to the English. The Armada, as has been seen, carried a considerable proportion of English-made guns, and the rest came from the finest foundries in Europe. The Spanish personnel outnumbered the English by two to one, though the superiority lay in soldiers, who in the event were never used.
These comparisons are of the two fleets when both fully engaged. So it is clear that the Spanish superiority at the outset, when engaged by about half the English fleet, was overwhelming.
Not only were they superior but they had the English at the worst possible disadvantage, catching them in harbour while still re-provisioning after their own voyage, and embayed by wind and tide. It will be remembered what Drake did in a not altogether dissimilar situation outside Cadiz. Vice-Admiral Borough’s concern as to the hazards of going straight in, and a plea that they should at least wait until dark, were blown away by the wind as Elizabeth Bonaventure cast off her captains one by one to return to their own ships and follow as best they could.
Medina Sidonia, when only ten miles off Plymouth, hove-to to allow his straggling fleet to close up. It was thirty-four years to the day since Philip had landed at Southampton to marry Mary. After prayers ‘when all our people kneeled down, beseeching Our Lord to give us victory against the enemies of His holy faith’, and while they could see the clouds of smoke blowing across the land as the beacons flared to give warning of their coming, the Duke called a council-of-war. It was an act of which Vice-Admiral Borough would have approved.
There are varying reports of what happened at that council, but the best founded is that de Leyva, the handsome young Lieutenant-General of the Fleet, supported by Recalde and Oquendo, the two most aggressive admirals, urged an instant attack on Plymouth. They were not absolutely certain that Drake was there, but their wide sweeping of the seas on their way from Spain had made no contact with English forces, so that it was a reasonable inference that he was in the port. If not he, certainly a substantial part of the English fleet. An attack pressed home now with fire-ships and a favourable wind might very well destroy that fleet and so provide a first resounding victory for Spain. Medina Sidonia – like Borough – saw danger in entering a fortified harbour which would only allow entry of three vessels abreast and an impossibility of retreat – with the present wind – if the attack did not prosper. Other admirals – including Pedro de Valdes – were against the venture; but the debate ended when the Duke told them of his personal instructions from the King. These instructions were to defeat the enemy if or when he attacked or attempted to impede the progress of the fleet, but not to seek him out – the overriding objective of the Armada being to arrive off Margate intact and to make juncture with the Duke of Parma to cover the landing of his troops.
As evening drew on and the Spanish council-of-war broke up, the English fleet, in the eye of the damp wind, began to warp laboriously out of Catwater. By dusk most of the big vessels were out and struggling close-hauled to beat out of and down the Sound towards the comparative safety of Rame Head. The decision not to attack Plymouth having been taken, the Armada proceeded on its way, thus assisting the English in their efforts to claw to windward of them. Dark fell and all the headlands were aflame with their warning bonfires, spreading the alarm throughout England faster than an express train. The Spanish were here at last. About one in the morning a Spanish pinnace returned with captured fishermen who told that Howard and Drake were now at sea, and the Duke decided to come to anchor until morning, in the meantime dispatching orders to his great fleet to close up into battle formation.
By dawn the wind had veered to west-north-west and the two fleets sighted each other for the first time. The English fleet was now to windward, having performed a feat of which the Spanish ships however handled would have been quite incapable. This English fleet was still hastily assembling, being joined from time to time by some of its larger ships which were only now able to get free of the land. It was a straggling formation stretching from north to south in a line of about nine miles, with some of the largest warships nearest the land, a group of vessels of all types in the centre, and a wide screen of smaller ships, armed merchantmen, pinnaces and the like, sweeping south far beyond the enemy.
The Armada had already adopted its famous crescent formation, and, besides being so much more numerous and formidable to look at, was more closely concentrated, the bulge facing away from the English ships, and the tips of the crescent like the pincers of a crab about six miles apart and arching to close. Duro says that all the contemporary writers, especially the foreign ones, agree in describing the consternation of the English when they saw the mass of ships. He then goes on to quote the Italian, Bentivollo: ‘You could hardly see the sea. The Spanish fleet was stretched out in the form of a half moon with an immense distance between its extremities. The masts and rigging, the towering sterns and prows which in height and number were so great that they dominated the whole naval concourse, caused horror mixed with wonder and gave rise to doubt whether that campaign was at sea or on land and whether one or the other element was the more splendid. It came on with a steady and deliberate movement, yet when it drew near in full sail it seemed almost that the waves groaned under its weight and the winds were made to obey it.’
This was a confrontation such as had never happened before in the history of the world. No such forces had ever faced each other; no rules or principles of attack or defence existed. Communication between one ship and another was by flag or by hailing trumpet; no opportunity existed for working out new tactics to counter the manoeuvres of one’s foe or the accidents of war or weather; discipline in ships was good but between ships depended on the personality and impulses of the varying captains. Understanding on this score was better on the English side because it was a homogeneous fleet; the Spanish included various nationalities sailing with varying degrees of communication and conviction.
Yet at this stage the Spanish formation was the stronger and much the better controlled. It was slow moving but tightly knit, like a battle square on land; and equally hard to attack. In the most exposed positions at each end were some of its largest and best-gunned galleons; while no lighter fleet – or part of a fleet – would willingly attack the centre, for it could immediately be surrounded. The left end of the crescent – that is the one nearest the land – was defended by Recalde with his Biscayan squadron, with Pedro de Valdes in support. At the right end was Bertendona, with Oquendo in support, both officially under de Leyva in the Rata Encoronada.
The English without hesitation decided to attack both ends of the crescent, since these could be more easily isolated than the rest and because the wind would make them hard
Sailing in line ahead, the English ships swept past the Spanish, but they did not attempt to close the distance, and even their own guns, lighter but of longer range, fell short, so that although the exchange was fierce no damage was done on either side. When the attack was made on the other wing, however, Recalde himself in the San Juan de Portugal came about to meet the English fire as the first wing had done, but only the Gran Grin, his vice-flagship, followed suit; the rest of his squadron sailed on leaving the two big galleons isolated and to be quickly surrounded. Various reasons have been given for this event; (a) that the rest of the captains panicked at the heavy firing of the English fleet, (b) that Recalde in the emergency of the moment failed to make the proper signal to his squadron. The first seems improbable, since the Biscayan squadron was one of the best in the fleet; the second quite impossible for a sailor of Recalde’s eminence.
It has also been suggested that Recalde deliberately disobeyed the Duke’s orders so as to create a mêlée. It is true that Recalde, of all the officers, had the least faith in the idea of joining up with the Duke of Parma; and yesterday he had been cheated of his chance of catching Howard and Drake embayed in Plymouth. With such a massive fleet it was probably intolerable for him to retreat slowly up Channel while the English dogs barked at his heels. And all the captains knew – even Philip II knew and had so written in his orders to Medina Sidonia – that the English would try to keep their distance, attacking from long range, refusing the invitation to board the enemy, doing what damage they could without being damaged themselves. Well, here was a chance to break the deadlock before the deadlock had begun to grip.
If this is a fair interpretation of Recalde’s actions, it is worse than Nelson’s blind eye, for by going contrary to the whole of the Armada strategy Recalde played directly into the hands of the English. But his was a bluff which might have succeeded. Two of the biggest galleons were an enormous prize: the sort of prize that Drake or Frobisher would be unable to resist. Let them but come within range and the fight would be on. Even if the galleons were heavily pounded, the English guns were not likely to be able to finish them off. To capture them they would have to be boarded, and the San Juan and the Gran Grin carried between them nearly six hundred trained soldiers. In the meantime other units of each fleet would be drawn in, and once locked in combat …
Whether this was his reasoning or not, or whether the rest of his captains did panic at a cannonade such as they had never heard at sea before, no doubt the isolation of the two galleons did present a terrible temptation to Drake and Frobisher. But it was a temptation they resisted. They closed only to a range of about four hundred yards, where their fire could be effective and the Spanish fire would fall short. So for nearly two hours the San Juan and the Gran Grin were bombarded, and both were damaged, though this damage was largely to personnel and superstructure, for the English shot was not heavy enough to hole the enemy between wind and water. As soon as Medina Sidonia saw his rearguard in trouble he came about in his galleon the San Martin and, followed by his squadron, sailed to the rescue. But since he was well in the van of the whole Armada, it meant not merely beating back into the wind, a difficult enough operation in itself, but skirting the whole crescent front of the fleet in order to get to the southernmost tip.
When eventually about midday the San Martin, the San Marcos, the San Felipe and the San Mateo reached the battle area the English ships fought them for another two hours, but always giving sea room when they had to, never closing the range, ignoring the Spanish invitations to grapple and board, avoiding the rushes of the Spanish squadrons and snapping at their heels. But as more and more of the galleons arrived on the scene Howard gave orders to break off the engagement and to retire to a safe distance. Still needing reinforcements and still sounding out the strength of his opponent, Howard hesitated to commit himself further, and so the first clash came to an end. Recalde was gathered into the fold of the Armada, and the great fleet began slowly to re-form and move up channel again. But while the regrouping took place in a rising wind and sea, Pedro de Valdes in the Rosario, the flagship of the Andalusian squadron, making towards Recalde with the intention apparently of helping him, collided with another Biscayan ship and then, swinging round, fouled a galleon of his own squadron, the Santa Catalina of eight hundred and eighty-two tons, and lost his bowsprit and brought down the stay of his foremast.
For a while all was confusion; and almost before it could be sorted out there was a tremendous explosion aboard the San Salvador, which tore out her stern castle, splintered her masts and killed two hundred of her crew.
Many romantic stories have been told of the cause of this explosion, the most picturesque being Ubaldino’s of a Flemish gunnery officer who took exception to an army captain making free with his wife, ‘who was with him, as is the custom of the country’. The army captain ordered the Fleming to be beaten, whereupon, when he was released, the gunner plunged a lighted taper into a barrel of gunpowder and wrecked the ship. However, a more mundane explanation is far more likely, namely that the ship had been in action and a gunner’s carelessness resulted in a spark reaching the gunpowder in the rear hold. Whatever the cause, the San Salvador, a vessel of nine hundred and fifty-eight tons with a crew of three hundred and ninety-six, belonging to Oquendo’s squadron, became almost a total wreck, and in the confusion caused by the explosion and the flames, Howard saw another opportunity to attack, and led a dozen of his best ships back into action.
Once again the Duke and his squadron came to the rescue, driving away the English ships to a respectable distance and with the help of two galleasses, which could make greater headway into the wind, came up with the San Salvador and got a line aboard her and was able to salvage the bullion and put out the flames. In the growing sea the Rosario was in further trouble, for her foremast gave way at the hatches and fell on the main yard. The San Martin herself got a line aboard the Rosario and took her in tow. But the line parted; and now Diego Flores, appointed by Philip as Medina Sidonia’s chief adviser, was at the Duke’s side angrily reminding him that it was his duty to command the fleet, not to succour all its lame dogs, and that anyway the bulk of the Armada was now so far in advance of him that if he did not follow soon the fleet would be split in two, and that with dusk falling any attempt to recall the van of the Armada would fail.
The Duke, who had eaten nothing all day – the first of many such days to come – would not at first accept the advice of his chief of staff; but as the ships pitched ever more dangerously around the damaged Rosario, with an increasing risk of further collision, he sent word to Pedro de Valdes asking him to leave his ship and come aboard the San Martin. De Valdes vehemently rejected the invitation. At length, having appointed six smaller ships to attend the Rosario, the Duke gave the orders to follow the slow progress of the rest of the Armada eastward.
The first day’s fighting had brought losses to the Spanish, but not from enemy action. It had brought some depression to the English. They could outsail the Armada but not outgun it, and the discipline of the Spaniards was impressive. Howard wrote to Walsingham: ‘We durst not adventure to put in among them, their fleet being so strong. But there shall be nothing neglected or unhazarded that may work their overthrow.’ Drake wrote to Admiral Lord Hen
At least the danger to Plymouth was past, and the present course of the Armada did show that their objective was not to be Ireland or any of the extreme western ports. It might still be Torbay or the Isle of Wight or some other harbour along the south coast. By refusing battle on the advice of his more experienced captains, Howard had delayed the final clash at the expense of leaving the initiative with Spain. The English still retained the ‘weather gage’ – that is, they remained to windward of the enemy, and were therefore at a great advantage, being able to choose their time and place of attack – but this also meant that they could not prevent the Armada from assailing any English port or harbour it might choose. The question was, would the Spaniards dare to do this with the undefeated English fleet still at their heels? It was a possibility which had to be faced. Therefore above all things contact with the Armada must not be lost. There would be about six hours of darkness. After a council-of-war in the gathering windy dusk, with a short choppy north-westerly sea, and clouds obscuring the stars, each captain returned to his own ship with precise and absolute instructions as to his station and course. Drake had been appointed to lead the way, showing his big poop lantern to the ships astern for their guidance.