The Spanish Armada (23 page)

The polished courtly phrases of the captain-general’s formal dispatch gave no hint of the impassioned debate that had taken place during the council of war. Some commanders –
Recalde, Alonso de Leyva and Oquendo among them – had urged the captain-general to immediately attack or blockade Plymouth by deploying fireships, particularly if English ships were caught
inside the harbour.
⁷

Medina Sidonia, ever mindful of his royal master’s instructions to protect Parma’s amphibious landing, was still fretting about the lack of a safe haven for the Armada, particularly
after the latest bout of
storm damage to his fleet. But, like Borough before Drake’s attack on Cadiz the previous year, the captain-general judged his admirals’
plan to be too perilous. The entrance to Plymouth harbour was believed to be narrow and hazardous, only permitting entry by three ships sailing abreast. Moreover he feared the firepower of the
defending shore batteries and was anxious to avoid further damage or loss of his ships before achieving his primary objective of safely escorting the Flanders army across the Dover Straits. His
view was supported by Pedro de Valdés, commander of the Andalusian squadron.

Therefore, with the wind in the south-west, orders were issued to press on up the English Channel in a tight half-crescent formation, with Bertendona’s Levantine ships in the vanguard,
followed by the main force under Medina Sidonia, with the Guipúzcoan and Andalusian squadrons stationed on either wing. The slower transport hulks were protected in the centre of this
lunula
and the Biscayan ships formed a rearguard. A number of ships were also designated to form a
socorro
, a tactical battle group designed to be deployed to reinforce the
formation wherever danger loomed.

Howard already knew of the Armada’s arrival. Thomas Fleming, on board the barque
Golden Hinde
, was part of the screen of English ships positioned in the south-west approaches to
provide early warning of the Spanish onslaught. Around three o’clock that Saturday afternoon, Fleming sailed into Plymouth with news of the enemy fleet off the Lizard.

His may have been the impudent and audacious English ship that had darted daringly between the warships in the Spanish vanguard before heading eastwards, defiantly pooping off one round from a
cannon and ignoring the more powerful shots fired in reply by the Levanter
Rata Santa María Encoronada.
Worried by this incident, Medina Sidonia sent the English-speaking Ensign
Juan Gil in his flagship’s oared tender to gather intelligence on the whereabouts of the English fleet, which he confidently expected to be 250 miles (402.34 km) away, concentrated in the
Dover Straits, ready to prey upon Parma’s invasion barges. He also believed that the much-feared
El Draque
commanded only a small squadron off the Devon coast.

Legend has Howard and Drake enjoying a quiet game of bowls on Plymouth Hoe when the information they had been anxiously awaiting finally arrived via Captain Fleming.
⁸
This immortal incident was
first recorded more than forty years later and the naval hero’s calm, almost throwaway response – ‘We
have time to finish the game and beat the Spaniards too’ – first appeared in print two centuries after the event.
⁹

The story may be apocryphal, but there are facets of that afternoon’s events that suggest it has some veracity. News of the Armada had been spread by Cornwall’s beacon system and the
warning pealing of church bells, calling the local militia to arms. The shore defences were alerted and such few batteries of guns as existed were manned and loaded. Faced with adverse winds and a
flood tide running into Plymouth harbour, the English fleet were prevented from leaving their moorings until the tide began to ebb early that evening. Moreover, the enemy ships were too distant to
take advantage of the flood to attack Plymouth, so the English mariners found themselves with a few precious hours in which to complete provisioning and arming their ships, or, with true English
sang froid,
to finish that game of bowls.

Howard and Drake spent the afternoon and evening gainfully by slowly and laboriously warping
¹⁰
their ships out of harbour and collecting them in
the shelter of Rame Head, ready for battle at first light. They now mustered a powerful force: with the arrival of reinforcements, the English fleet numbered more than one hundred vessels.

Just after midnight, Ensign Gil returned to the Armada with a captured Falmouth fishing smack and its crew of four. Under interrogation, the Cornish prisoners disclosed the unwelcome news that
not only had Howard and Drake joined forces, but their ships had departed Plymouth and were readying for action. Diego Flores Valdés, the fleet’s naval adviser, cautioned Medina
Sidonia that, given the Armada’s current speed and course, he was liable to run on ahead of the enemy and risked being attacked from behind, as well as surrendering the tactical advantage of
the weather gauge.
¹¹
Accordingly, the Spanish ships spent the remainder of the night anchored in the lee of the 400-foot (120 metre) headland of
Dodman Point, notched with its Iron Age earthen ramparts, near Mevagissey in Cornwall. It was to be a busy night for Captain Uceda, the officer charged with rowing out to each ship in the fleet to
deliver detailed orders for battle on the morrow.

Dawn broke on Sunday 31 July with the sea shrouded in mist, soon dispersed by a west-north-westerly wind that freshened, bringing thick drizzly rain. Medina Sidonia was
astounded, if not mortified, to see at least eighty-five English ships windward of him, five miles (8 km) west of the Eddystone Rock, his enemy having gained the weather gauge. More worrying still,
a fifteen-strong enemy squadron was tacking close inshore between the Armada and the Cornish fishing village of Looe, with the clear intention of luring some Spaniards out of line, that they might
easily be picked off. The captain-general fired a signal gun, ordering his fleet to take up battle stations, then he hoisted the royal standard to his maintop as a signal to engage the enemy.

The Spanish fleet smoothly fell into the
lunula
fighting formation, each vessel hoisting the personal colours of its captain or squadron commander to strident trumpet calls and the
beating of drums. Guns were run out and nets stretched across the upper decks to prevent the enemy scrambling aboard. Leyva’s squadron formed the vanguard or northerly horn of the crescent
and Recalde’s Biscayans the southerly, with Medina Sidonia’s galleons stationed in the centre to guard the transport ships. From horn to horn, the width of the Armada
lunula
probably stretched about six miles (9.6 km).

With its garish multicoloured sails, ensigns and streamers, the
lunula
presented a daunting, if not deadly sight. To many, the slow-moving crescent resembled a dense infantry formation,
the forest of masts like a mass of soldiers’ pikes. The speed and precision of the manoeuvre and the sheer magnitude of the Armada in full battle array amazed and overawed all those on the
decks of the closing English ships. Henry White, captain of the 200-ton armed merchantman
Barque Talbot
, commented: ‘The majesty of the enemy’s fleet, the good order they held
and the private consideration of our own wants did cause, in my opinion, our first onset to be more coldly done than became the value of our nation and the credit of the English navy.’
Another seaman described his astonishment more candidly: ‘We never thought that they could ever have found, gathered and joined so great a force of puissant ships together and so well
appointed them with their cannon, culverin and other great pieces of ordnance.’
¹²
An Italian eye-witness called Bentivollo was more graphic:
‘You could hardly see the sea . . . The masts and rigging, the
towering sterns and prows which in height and number were so great that they dominated the whole naval
concourse [and] caused horror, mixed with wonder.’
¹³

In the twenty-first century, such diplomatic niceties as a formal declaration of war before hostilities commence appear to have fallen out of fashion.
¹⁴
At best, an enemy country might expect an ultimatum or a menacing United Nations’ resolution before the shooting starts or the bombs begin to fall. Even the word
‘war’ is now shunned, hidden behind such bland euphemisms as ‘conflict’ – doubtless because somewhere down the line, lawyers and expensive litigation may become
involved.

This is a far cry from the sixteenth century when war was more gentlemanly – but just as bloody. Howard felt compelled to observe the chivalrous etiquette then expected on such famous
occasions as the meeting of two enemy fleets at sea, each one prepared to give battle. He therefore dispatched his own 80-ton barque
Disdain
to issue a formal challenge or
‘defiance’, as it was called, to the Spaniards. The little ship bravely sailed to within hailing distance of the tightly packed Spanish ships in the bulging centre of the
lunula
and fired a single, symbolic shot at de Leyva’s
Rata Santa María Encoronada
, before beating a hasty retreat back to the safety of the English fleet.

This civility properly fulfilled, Howard gave the order to attack at around 9 a.m. Wary of the potentially deadly trap between the crab-like pincher claws of the flanking horns of the Armada,
his preferred tactic was to harry the rear of the enemy centre while Drake’s and John Hawkins’ squadrons launched assaults on the more vulnerable tips of the crescent. As a precursor,
Howard, in
Ark Royal
, led an attack on the Spanish southerly wing with the aim of engaging Medina Sidonia’s flagship – in line with the gentlemanly code that dictated
commanders should always fight someone of equal rank.

His ships swept across the Armada’s rear, initially trading shots with Leyva’s vanguard, and Howard opened fire on the
Rata Santa María Encoronada
at a range of four
hundred yards (437 metres) in the mistaken belief that she was
San Martin,
the Armada flagship. After a flurry of cannonades, he then engaged Recalde’s rearguard on the northern side
of the crescent, in support of the attack by Drake’s forty-strong squadron.

Pedro de Calderón, the chief purser of the Armada, witnessed this artillery duel from the 650-ton transport ship
San Salvador
, vice-flagship of the hulks
squadron. He described how
Rata
tried to close on Drake’s
Revenge
, ‘which . . . allowed herself to fall off towards [her] but they could not exchange cannon shots,
because the enemy’s ship, fearing that the
San Mateo
would bring her to close quarters, left the
Rata
and bombarded the
San Mateo’.
¹⁵

Naval battles carry their own brand of particular terror, especially for the inexperienced sailor. The jarring, deafening crashes of repeated cannonades. The sickening, heart-stopping thumps of
enemy roundshot smashing into the timber hull of your ship amid the heat, smoke and confusion. The terrible wounds caused by wooden splinters flying through the air like deadly arrows. The piercing
screams of the wounded, their limbs torn off by iron or stone cannonballs. The all-pervasive stench of copiously spilt blood, spent gunpowder and naked fear. The disorientation of sudden and
unexpected changes in course as ships manoeuvre to press home an attack or avoid a devastating enemy salvo. Dominating all was the horror of fire breaking out – perhaps triggering the
explosion of a magazine that would blow your ship out of the water, raining down debris and body parts into the waves. All these sights, sounds and smells constantly assailed every one of the
senses. For those on board, driven almost out of their wits by the madness and pandemonium around them, there was nowhere to run to. In a ship fighting a close-quarter battle, there were no hiding
places.

No surprise then that the ferocity of Drake’s assault, which included the mighty
Triumph
and
Victory
, unnerved the Biscayan ships. Panic set in, causing some to break
station and seek shelter within Medina Sidonia’s centre. These were probably the vessels Calderón had in mind when he described ships ‘basely’ taking to flight ‘until
they were peremptorily ordered by the flagship to luff
¹⁶
and face the enemy’.

At around 10.30, Recalde, in the Armada’s 1,050-ton vice-flagship
San Juan de Portugal
, shortened sail and turned his ship to bring all guns to bear on the attackers, receiving in
turn concentrated fire from eight English ships that had closed to a range of 300 yards (274 metres). Recalde was clearly hoping to board one of his enemies, but the English, wary of his cannon and
the well-armed soldiers on
board, were content to stand off at a distance and pound his ship for about an hour.

Isolated from the remainder of the Spanish fleet and suffering continual damage, Recalde later estimated that in excess of three hundred rounds were fired at him ‘damaging key parts of the
rigging, including the mainmast stay’. One shot smashed through his foremast ‘from one side to the other’.
¹⁷
But he had not yet
sustained many casualties: only ‘Captain Pedro de Ycaina and others were wounded’, according to Calderón. These were patently gentlemen; the purser did not bother to mention the
fifteen crew members who had been killed.

Realising the danger in Recalde’s position, Medina Sidonia struck his flagship’s foresail, slackened her sheets and put his helm hard over to steer for the threatening
mêlée on his northern flank. Some of the Andalusian and Guipúzcoan ships in the
socorro
followed his lead, together with the Biscayan
El Gran Grin
and the four
Neapolitan galleasses,
San Lorenzo, Napolitana, Zúñiga
and
Girona. San Martin
came under immediate attack by two of the English galleons.

The action continued furiously for another ninety minutes until shortly before one o’clock, when the English broke away, possibly because they were running low on ammunition and powder.
Despite Medina Sidonia lowering his topsails as an invitation to continue the battle, the first day’s action was now over. The former spy Nicholas Ousley, now aboard
Revenge,
acknowledged that the Spanish ‘keep such excellent good order in their fight [and] if God do not miraculously work, we shall have to employ ourselves for some days’.
¹⁸
Medina Sidonia was surprised at the English tactics and the agility of their ships, noting in his diary how they fired cannon salvoes ‘without
attempting to grapple’.
¹⁹