Armada (48 page)

The
Santa Clara
had managed to stay in contact with a small flotilla and led by the
San Martín
they had finally reached the Bay of Biscay a week before. Crossing the bay, they had sighted other small groups of sail on the far horizons. The sight had given Evardo some comfort. They were not alone. Many others had been spared and would soon reach home.

With a splash that brought a handful of hollow cheers the
Santa Clara
anchored in the lee of the port. A host of fishing boats began to stream out from behind the rough hewn seawall that protected the inner harbour. Evardo looked up at Santander church high atop the steep promontory at the edge of the town. The bell had ceased to ring. With disdain, Evardo turned his back. God had not brought him home, the
Santa Clara
had. Evardo reached out to touch the mizzen mast once more, running his hand down the smooth weathered spar.

She had carried him through war and storm and they had endured much together since sailing from Lisbon months before. Because of her, because of her crew and men like Mendez, Evardo had regained his name and his honour. He had found peace with Abrahan and earned the respect of all who sailed in the Armada.

During the long desperate weeks in the north Atlantic Evardo had found strength in his determination to carry the war ever onwards against the English. They had not defeated the Armada, not decisively. Their cannon had battered and subjugated many of its ships, but it was the elements that truly sealed the Armada’s fate – the winds and tides of the Channel that had robbed the Spanish of the opportunity to employ their own tactics in battle.

The war was not over. It had taken the Spanish centuries to re-conquer their peninsula from the Moors, but against overwhelming odds they had eventually triumphed, and from out of that victory the greatest empire of the age had been forged. Over the previous hundred years the Spanish had swept all before them. The English were no fiercer a foe, no more determined than any other. Like so many enemies before them they too would be defeated in time.

Soon a new Armada would set sail from the shores of Spain, and Evardo would be one its
comandante
s. As the locals began to board the
Santa Clara
he straightened his shoulders and adjusted his torn and salt-stained clothes. The gesture reminded him of another moment over a year before. From the depths of an English prison he had risen to command a galleon of the Armada and regained all that he had lost. He could make that journey again. His body and spirit may be weak but his will remained strong and suddenly he was filled with an eagerness to begin anew, to take the fight back to the English, for God, his King and Spain.

Robert dismounted and began to climb the slope of the motte. The sun was on his back and he paused at the rim as he had done many times in the past, looking back at the ancient church of Saint Michael’s. He was breathing hard but for the first time in weeks he felt strong. He held his face up to the late summer sun, drinking in its warmth as he inhaled the scents of the English countryside.

For days after Gravelines the English fleet had shadowed the Armada as it sailed towards Scotland. Seymour had taken his squadron back to the Flemish coast, fearing an opportunistic attempt by Parma to cross the Channel, but the other four had continued on, finally abandoning their pursuit when the Spaniards cleared the Firth of Forth.

Still uncertain, they had returned to the Channel. No one knew the enemy’s intentions. If conditions changed in their favour, there was every chance the Armada would return southwards to try to link up with Parma again, or they might refit and restock in a Scandinavian or Scottish port. Their fate and course was unknown. Howard had been forced to keep the fleet on alert in the waters off Dover.

The first cases of pestilence surfaced within days. Crowded together, with shortened rations, the flux had spread rapidly throughout the fleet. On the
Retribution
alone nearly half the crew were struck down by the terrible disease. Few had survived. As one of the more heavily engaged ships in the battles against the Armada, the
Retribution
had suffered twelve killed in combat. The flux took more than six times that number, nearly a third of the crew. Little or nothing had been done to relieve their plight and every entreaty from the fleet commanders to the Privy Council had been all but ignored.

After four weeks the fleet was finally given leave to stand down, but by then it was too late for many. Through eyes closed against the sun Robert pictured the faces of those who had died – his old comrade and master’s mate Miller, the boatswain Shaw, the master gunner Larkin, and dozens more who would remain with him forever.

He turned and began to pick his way through the ruins, looking for signs of where the ground had been disturbed. He thought of Thomas Seeley and their parting earlier that morning.

‘Home to recuperate,’ Seeley had answered when asked by Robert what he would do next.

They had been standing on the main deck of the
Retribution
, at the head of the gangplank onto Plymouth docks.

‘And what then, Thomas? We sail in two weeks to Dover for refit, and the
Retribution
needs a Master.’

Seeley had nodded, looking past Robert to the range over the galleon. He had turned to leave but Robert had stopped him, offering his hand.

‘Thank you, Thomas. For everything. I hope I’ll see you again.’

For a heartbeat Seeley had hesitated, a shadow passing over his face. He had taken Robert’s hand, but only briefly. ‘You will, Captain.’

Seeley had then taken a small cloth parcel from his pocket and handed it to Robert before walking down the gangplank and away along the docks without a backward glance.

Robert stopped as he spotted a mound in the centre of a small clearing in the ruins. It was covered by dense undergrowth, a sign that the earth had been recently turned over and richer soil had been uncovered. He walked over to it and looked down at the grave, his thoughts returning to the night Father Blackthorne had died, and of his father and how they had fought, sword against sword in the darkness.

Robert knelt down. He reached into his pocket and took out the cloth parcel Seeley had given him, opened it and took out the silver crucifix and marble statuette of the Blessed Virgin Mary. They felt light in his hand. They were all that remained of his father. His body had been cast into the sea, along with the other Englishmen who had died in battle.

He pulled out a clump of weeds from the mound and dug a small hole in the loose soil, placing the crucifix within it. He closed his eyes and prayed, for Father Blackthorne and for Nathaniel Young. He buried the icon, hoping that its presence would sanctify the ground that held the body of his confessor. He stood up and examined the statuette in his hand. He looked at its base, his finger tracing the inscription,
Young
. It was the only physical link that remained to his real name and he slipped the statuette into his pocket.

Robert returned to where his horse was tethered. He mounted and looked up one last time at the summit of the motte, wondering if another Catholic priest would one day take responsibility for Father Blackthorne’s flock and recite mass amidst the ruins. Robert would never know. Although his faith remained strong, he would never again return to the motte. That part of his life was behind him, not forgotten but gone forever. He kicked his horse into a canter. He was Sir Robert Varian, knight of the realm, a loyal recusant and captain of the
Retribution
. As he passed Saint Michael’s, he turned his mount towards Brixham, and home.

A
s the Armada sailed north from the Banks of Flanders on the 9th August 1588 few considered the battle to be over. The Spanish fleet had reformed into their defensive formation and in a council of war held on board the
San Martín
the senior commanders voted unanimously to turn around, if conditions allowed, and make a second attempt to link up with Parma. But in many ways it was a hollow resolution. They had been badly mauled. Many ships were struggling to keep up with the fleet and few believed they could force their way through an enemy fleet that had already defeated them in pitched battle.

What they did not know however was that the English pursuing them to windward were no longer capable of continuing the fight. They were sailing in good order. Their warships had sustained only minimal damage and they now knew that the key to victory was to close to within arquebus shot before discharging their heavy guns. But at that moment such knowledge was worthless for their shot lockers were empty and they were desperately short of victuals.

The English commanders were equally concerned as to what the enemy might attempt next. They had sunk one Spanish warship and driven two more onto the shoals but against such a large fleet these were mere scratches and the Armada as a whole remained intact. The enemy seemed far from beaten. Ahead of them lay Scottish and Scandinavian ports where they could regroup before returning south to renew their campaign. To the rear of the English fleet Parma was continuing to embark his invasion army.

In the end, however, Gravelines proved to be the last encounter of the campaign. On the 10th August Medina Sidonia ordered the fleet to return to Spain via a route around Scotland and Ireland and into the north Atlantic. The English fleet, as Howard described, ‘put on a brag countenance and gave chase,’ shadowing the Armada until the Firth of Forth while Seymour returned to the Channel with his squadron to guard against a crossing by Parma. Over a week later the Privy Council deemed it safe enough for Elizabeth to travel to her army massed at Tilbury where she delivered her famous speech.

From the moment of its conception, few in Spain doubted the enormity of the challenges facing any attempt to invade the shores of England. Many strategies were advanced by senior advisors and commanders but ultimately King Philip chose a plan that would require two forces, a naval Armada and the Duke of Parma’s Army of Flanders, to link up and bridge the English Channel. From the beginning Philip was deeply involved with every aspect of the campaign and communication between Santa Cruz in Lisbon and Parma in Holland was channelled through the King’s office, ensuring that Philip was privy to every decision.

The seafarers of the Spanish Empire were masters of their craft but the more experienced naval officers of the Armada knew the English navy would be difficult to defeat. The speed and nimbleness of the English ships was already renowned, as was their superior prowess in gunnery, and Spanish concerns were reinforced by the panic and delays caused by Drake’s attack on Cadiz in 1587.

Despite these reservations King Philip contended that the English would either have to engage in ship-to-ship combat or flee before the Armada. For a time it seemed his words were prophetic. Spanish military discipline was second to none and apart from one incident on the first day of battle, when ships of de Recalde’s wing retreated, the Armada remained in strict formation while under English guns, allowing it to sail the entire length of the English Channel without the loss of a single ship to enemy fire.

Faith also played a large part in the planning of the Armada enterprise and its power should not be underestimated. Philip was a devout Catholic and any shortcomings that were recognized were confidently excused in the knowledge that God would assist their every endeavour. This depth of faith was prevalent on both sides and is evident in much of the correspondence between commanders and their superiors.

Don Alonso Pérez de Guzmán (‘el Bueno’), Duke of Medina Sidonia, was one of the most senior nobles in Spain and his administrative skills made him an ideal choice to replace Santa Cruz who, though a highly experienced military commander, had few. Medina Sidonia was faced with a mammoth task when he arrived in Lisbon to take charge in February 1588. His reluctance to accept the post is well documented but his subsequent actions bear witness to his determination once his position was confirmed and he swiftly brought order to anarchy in Lisbon.

Many historians have directed a large portion of the blame for the Armada’s ultimate failure at Medina Sidonia, citing his limited naval combat experience and his lack of initiative. The duke however knew his limits and he continually sought and followed the guidance of his highly competent military advisors. The Armada might have fared better if Medina Sidonia had showed greater resourcefulness but it must be realized that at all times his options were limited by Philip’s inflexible orders. His courage was beyond doubt and the
San Martín
was at the heart of nearly every action in the campaign.

What proved to be one of the greatest weaknesses in the Spanish plan was the inability of Medina Sidonia and Parma to communicate effectively. At every stage in his advance Medina Sidonia dispatched updates to Parma to inform him of his progress. He never once received a reply or even an acknowledgement that his letters had been delivered. Crucially Medina Sidonia seemed to believe that Parma would sally out to meet him and they would rendezvous at sea, while Parma was firmly of the mind that any such sortie would result in annihilation of his transport fleet by the Dutch flyboats and so the Armada would have to come to him. The King’s command was simply that they ‘join hands’. No precise instructions had been given for how this would be achieved and with no deep water port in Spanish possession, the main purpose of the Armada remained shrouded in confusion until it reached Calais.

At the time of the Armada Lord High Admiral Charles Howard, Earl of Nottingham, was at the pinnacle of his long career. He was fifty-two years old and came from a distinguished line of naval officers. But despite his naval background he, like Medina Sidonia, had never experienced war at sea and relied heavily on his subordinates. Chief amongst those was Sir Francis Drake. A daring privateer, Drake’s raid on Cadiz in 1587 delayed the sailing of the Armada. He successfully predicted that the Spanish plan would involve a link up between Parma and the Armada and therefore advocated stationing the bulk of the English fleet at Plymouth, as far to windward of the narrow seas around Dover as possible. He contended that, ‘the advantage of time and place in all martial actions is half a victory,’ and his plan successfully ensured that the English fleet had the weather gauge when the Armada entered the Channel.