The King's Armada

by Doug Walker

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Then came the day before departure. García sent word to Doña María Botella, who came aboard La Anunciada in the early afternoon followed by a serving man with a small amount of luggage.

  She was directed to García’s quarters where she found him and the two cadets busy with paperwork and orders involving the almost frantic process of getting the troops on board and insuring bedding and rations.

  “Cadet Don Diego de Beauvais reporting,” she announced, snapping to smart attention. García noted that she had made herself a Don, no small trick. Of course he had done the same. Francisco and Jose were puzzled by this tall, imposing figure who seemed to have amazing self confidence.

  García rose and greeted her, or him, now accustomed to such masquerades. The two other cadets said nothing while Don Diego’s luggage was placed near theirs. Earlier they had seen that an additional cot was folded and leaning in a corner.

  When the serving man had departed, García introduced the cadets and was about to explain Don Diego’s gender, when she raised her hand and said she would prefer to talk to them alone. “Both of us, I hope,” Francisco said, fearing another mauling and smooching session.

  With the door shut, Don Diego directed the two to sit on a cot and then began to speak. “I am a woman you know, Doña María Botella. I am joining the masquerade because I want to be in on the invasion of England. Men will rule, but as you know we rule the men.

  “Now I know we are cramped here for sleeping quarters and I don’t know what either of you have done in an intimate manner in regard to Don Pedro. But let me inform you that he is mine. So I will nominally have a bunk here, but usually I will share his bed. Now that we understand things, tell me, how do you like my outfit?”

  “You make a handsome cadet,” Jose said, slightly stunned by this new cadet’s over-the-top manner. But she couldn’t help but admire such confidence.

  “Yes, the uniform fits to perfection,” Francisco agreed, relieved that she would not be pawed. “It must have cost a fortune.” The younger woman was even more impressed by Don Diego’s chiseled features, striking personal appearance and take-charge style.

  Don Diego shrugged. “Money is nothing. I do not like to bind my breasts though. I suppose you two do the same.”

  Jose laughed. “It’s not a big problem for me, but Francisco is a bit uncomfortable.”

  “Jose, I notice that you speak better these days. You have somehow overcome your speech impediment?”

  “Yes, with time in the new environment. It was shyness. I come from the northern mountains and was much alone as a child.”

  “I understand,” Don Diego said. “Both you and Don Pedro must have been much alone. As far as I can tell neither of you left a trace in those mountains. It’s amazing, but your accent is more pronounced than his.”

  “The mountains are vast and rugged. A person can get lost. There are strange things that happen, and they say even strange creatures walk about those mountains.” Jose took the initiative and said, “I think the three of us are going to get along fine.”

  “I agree,” Don Diego said, and one could see the excitement rise in her eyes. “This will be one of the greatest adventures ever undertaken. And to think the three of us are a part of it, thrown together for one reason or another, women masquerading as Spanish soldiers.” She took their hands in hers. ”I was born for this day.”

  Later, Jesus brought food and the three cadets, García and Poncho shared the meat, bread and wine in the dark cabin illuminated by candles. The scene was intimate and casual and talk flowed easily. García said the cadets should arm themselves with short boarding pikes. Regular officers carried ceremonial halberds, their shafts cased in studded velvet as marks of rank.

  “Perhaps we should have firearms,” Don Diego put in.

  “No,” García said. “The only such weapons suitable for you would be the light harquebus, but even they are cumbersome and totally unfaithful in wet conditions. Of course you should have daggers, and the boarding pikes are decent defensive weapons.”

  “My dagger is sharp,” Francisco said, “and it is at hand in my boot. Rather than fall into the hands of the English I would use its point to pierce my heart. What about you, Don Diego?”

  “I would prefer to use my dagger to pierce the heart of the English.”

  “If confronted by the English in a seemingly hopeless situation,” Jose said, “I think negotiations might be in order.”

  “And what might you negotiate with?”

  “Logic, reason. I would attempt to convince the English that violence never prevails in the long run. That peaceful talk can carry the day and make all parties winners.”

  “But they speak a foreign tongue, the Devil’s tongue,” Francisco tossed in.

  “I’m sure there are ways to get around that,” Jose said coolly, sorry she had entered into this conversation.

  “You have an interesting viewpoint, one that calls out for further exploration. But it seems the time for peace talks is over for the moment. We have an offensive band of soldiers,” Don Diego said.

  García smiled. “Offensive to the English, perhaps. But if we are attacked we must defend ourselves. There is time to plot strategy ahead. The duty of the cadet, if the question arises, is to inform the men that we are all expected to fight to the death. There are many things that you do not know, Don Diego. Pardon me for calling you that, but we must watch our tongues to guard against slips. A great adventure does lie ahead, but there will be surprises.”

  “Perhaps you could inform us now of what might lay in wait.”

  “The time is not right. We are busy with the Armada and the business of Spain. Later we might be busy in protecting our own lives. So please handle the short pikes, learn to use them. Jesus will be your teacher.”

  “I have not seen Doria,” Francisco said. “Does she sail with us?”

  “Yes, your sister is aboard,” García replied. “She and Jesus share the same cabin as before. But now the door is guarded. If you wish to see Doria, I can arrange visits.”

  “She is a prisoner?” Francisco was not surprised, just curious. Very little surprised her anymore.

  “No. Not in the greater sense. She is simply constrained from practicing her trade.” He knew Doria’s profession was known by Francisco. “She can leave the cabin accompanied by the guard and Jesus. A lone woman prowling around a troopship is, uh, inappropriate.”

  “So tomorrow we sail,” Don Diego said, raising her glass, “Let us drink to that and our future.”

  The four of them drank a bottoms-up toast. “And tomorrow, if time permits, I will present you to our captain, Joao Alvares. The three of you will have to take your turn on the quarterdeck and learn the ways of the ship. This time it will be different because we cannot just sail directly for a destination. We are part of an armada, or a flotilla, and we must keep our place in that flotilla. And remember, La Anunciada is a converted merchantman from Ragusa. It is not one of your dashing fighting vessels that will protect the Armada from the English pirates, who will surely be upon us once we enter their waters.”

  “But we will defeat the English heretics,” Don Diego said.

  “If luck is with us,” García said. “Consider this, we are a lumbering Armada filled to the brim with soldiers. If we can close with the English ships and board, then victory is ours. But they are swift and expert mariners. They can strike and they can run.”

  “You give them much credit,” Francisco said, for she was a veteran of one long voyage on La Anunciada and she knew its well-disciplined crew and the soldiers and she loved the vessel. She was infected with the feeling that the Armada was invincible.

  And so the talk went back and forth late into the night. And Poncho was attentive. He had studied the charts, maps and accounts at García’s side, and his memory was superior to García’s. But as to their personal fate, he was full of wonder.

  The following day, during the inevitable wait to get such a large force underway, García
was able to introduce Don Diego to the ship’s captain, Joao Alvares.

  “I have never seen three more handsome and well turned out cadets,” the aptain remarked. “And from my experience with the first two, they are exceedingly quick-witted and eager to help. I congratulate you, Don Pedro.”

  “I am a lucky man, but the credit goes to them. You may have noticed Captain Alvares, that I have crammed every nook on this ship with provisions, both food and water.”

  “And not to neglect wine,” Alvares added. “There is not a ship in the Armada with more provisions per man. I have been told more than once that you seem over cautious. We should soon be on English soil feasting on English fare.”

  “That is the plan,” García conceded. “But there is no certainty. We are all aware of the drastic weather conditions that plague the English coast. I am placing my men on strict rations from this moment. We will conserve what food we have, and caution will be our guide.”

  Alvares shrugged. “With all this food and wine aboard I thought your men might feast their way to London. But have it your way.”

  “I’m doubling the guard on the supplies. If any man is caught filching, he will be severely punished. I hope you will do the same with your seamen.”

  “Of course. I tolerate no thieving. And your prudence is commendable. Have you made any other observations that might be of interest to me?”

  “There is one. The English have been known to use fire ships in battles at sea. I would say beware of fire ships.”

  “Yes, they could be a great danger to close formations. I cannot influence the overall formation of the Armada, but there are drills and precautions I can take to preserve La Anunciada. And I will do just that. You are a thoughtful man, Don Pedro. And once again, I am happy to see Poncho aboard.” He tousled the little dog’s head as it lay in his master’s arms, then gave a slight nod to Don Diego who had taken in the conversation.

  When they were once again alone, Don Diego said, “You expect trouble, Don Pedro. What gives you cause for such precautions?”

  “In the fullness of time, Don Diego, all will be revealed. Never forget that I command the troops on board and you are but a cadet. My thoughts are my own.”

  Don Diego considered these remarks and decided to remain silent. In bed they were equals. Otherwise Don Pedro was clearly the leader, and thus far he had done nothing to make her doubt his ability. And now, for England.

  The full strength of the Armada sailed from Lisbon on May 28, 29, and 30, 1588. And what a sight it was to see the great vessels, particularly the galleons and galleasses, some 600 tonners with three square-rigged masts and 28 rowing banks on each side. Four convicts, or prisoners, each chained to the benches, manned each oar. One small compensation for such a degrading job was the best food. The officers knew they must stay strong.

  The Armada was a clash between King Felipe of Spain and Elizabeth Tudor of England. Felipe was born to lead and had been carefully groomed during his lifetime. By 1580 his empire dwarfed that of the Roman Empire at its height. His power was absolute, yet in contrast to his nobles’ gaudy attire, he always dressed in plain black and he normally assumed an attitude of humility.

  This was in sharp contrast to Queen Elizabeth with her pomp and ostentation. She was reared in the household of Henry VIII; four of his wives entered and exited after Elizabeth’s mother had been executed. And she, early on, had been proclaimed a bastard and spent part of her half sister’s reign under house arrest.