On 5 April, Parma sent a somewhat barbed valedictory message about the start of naval operations to the king: ‘Since God has been pleased to defer for so long the sailing of the Armada . . . we are bound to conclude that it is for His greater glory and the more perfect success of the business, since the object is so exclusively for the promotion of His holy cause.’ Then the duke returned to his fears that his plans were compromised: ‘The enemy have been . . . forewarned and acquainted with our plans and have made preparations for their defence. It is manifest that the enterprise, which at one time was so easy and safe, can only now be carried out with infinitely greater difficulty and at a much larger expenditure of blood and trouble.’ Parma refused to be a hostage to fortune, as his next comment indicated:
I am sure that your majesty will have adopted all necessary measures for the carrying out of the task of protecting my passage across, so that not the smallest hitch shall occur in a matter of such importance. Failing this, and the due cooperation of the duke with me, both before and during the actual landing . . . I can hardly succeed as I desire in your majesty’s service.73
On St Mark’s Day (25 April) Medina Sidonia went piously to Lisbon Cathedral to receive the blessed standard of the Armada, which was laid up on the high altar. The banner was decorated with the arms of Spain, flanked by Christ crucified and the Blessed Virgin Mary and a scroll proclaiming: Exurge, domine et vindica causam tuam – ‘Arise O Lord and give judgment on thy cause’. It was carried solemnly between lines of kneeling soldiers and sailors down to the harbour where the admiral boarded his flagship. Her mainsail bore another image of the Virgin Mary.
Pope Sixtus declared a special indulgence to all who sailed with the Armada and to those who prayed for its victory. In Spain, there were constant prayers for the success of the invasion of England, with processions on holy days and Sundays ‘so that more people might attend’. In the Escorial Palace, the royal family shared their nation’s supplications, organised in three-hour relays.74 ‘The king himself is on his knees two or three hours every day before the Sacrament,’ reported Lippomano. ‘Those in waiting on his majesty declare that he rises in the night to pray to God to grant him a happy issue out of this struggle.’ The Venetian envoy was philosophical, if not stoic: ‘Everyone hopes that the greater the difficulties, humanly speaking, the greater will be the favour of God.’75
Not everyone was so optimistic. The experienced admiral Martin de Bertendona, commander of the Levant squadron, warned a papal emissary in May that the English had ‘faster and handier ships than ours and many more long-range guns’. They would avoid, at all costs, battling it out hull-to-hull with the Armada, but ‘stand aloof and knock us to pieces with their culverins, without our being able to do them any serious hurt’. He added with more than a touch of sarcasm: ‘We are sailing against England in the confident hope of a miracle.’76
In fighting such a holy war, the Armada was going to be a godly fleet. Medina Sidonia, in his sailing orders, emphasised that as the principal purpose of the mission was to ‘serve God and to return to his church a great many of contrite souls that are oppressed by the heretics, enemies of our holy Catholic church’, every soldier and sailor should be shriven and receive the Holy Sacrament before they departed. Furthermore, none should ‘blaspheme or rage against God or Our Lady or any of the saints upon pain that he shall therefore sharply be corrected and very well chastened’. Each morning ‘at the break of day’ each ship’s company ‘shall give the good morrow to the mainmast’.77 At nightfall, the ship’s boys would sing the Ave Maria; some days the Salve Regina was added to the religious repertoire, along with the litany of Our Lady on Saturdays. Even the nominated passwords for each day of the week had sacred derivations. ‘Jesus’ was the chosen word for Sunday; ‘Holy Ghost’ on Monday; ‘Holy Trinity’ for Tuesday; ‘Saint James’ for Wednesday; ‘The Angels’ for Thursday; ‘All Saints’ for Friday; and ‘Our Lady’ for Saturday.
‘Common women’ – including prostitutes – were forbidden to sail with the Armada and the crews were warned that uttering oaths of ‘less quality’ would incur withdrawal of their wine allowance. What’s more, gambling would be forbidden. Any ‘quarrels, angers, defiances, and injuries that are and have been before this day, of all persons’ were to be ‘suppressed and suspended’; those who transgressed ‘directly or indirectly, upon pain of disobedience’ would be deemed guilty of treason ‘and die therefore’. Soldiers and sailors should live together in the ships in ‘confirmed friendship’. To ensure ‘amity’, Medina Sidonia prohibited the carrying of daggers as personal weapons.
Then the admiral turned to operational matters. His flagship San Martin would signal departure by firing a cannon, at which point the fleet ‘shall follow without losing time’, sounding their trumpets. Upon leaving Corunna, the Armada would set course for south of the Scilly Islands, off Cornwall; any stragglers should rejoin the fleet after rendezvousing in Mount’s Bay, between Land’s End and the Lizard peninsula. If Medina Sidonia wanted to summon his captains for a conference, he would fly a flag at the flagship’s mizzen mast near its great lantern and fire a signal gun.
Each ship was to take particular care to douse its charcoal cooking fires ‘before the sun goes down’. In the event that a vessel caught ablaze, its immediate neighbour would send its boats and skiffs to help in fire-fighting or to rescue the crew. The army colonels and captains were charged with ensuring that their soldiers ‘always have their armour clean, ready and in order for time of necessity’ and the equipment was to be cleaned twice a week.
The ships’ gunners were to ensure that they had barrels of water mixed with vinegar standing by to extinguish any incendiary devices fired at their vessels. Every warship was to carry two boat-loads of stones for use as missiles to hurl from the mast tops at the enemy whilst boarding. No ship was to sail ahead of the flagship or astern of the vice-admiral at the rear, and every vessel should take care to trim its sails as it was important ‘that all our navy do go as close as possible as they may and in this the captains, masters and pilots must have such great care’.
No one could plead ignorance of the admiral’s instructions: his orders were to be read out loud by the pursers before departure and then, during the voyage to the English Channel, three times a week.78
In England, a remarkably accurate intelligence report of 7 May, quoting a captain ‘of an Italian ship serving in the Spanish fleet’, estimated its order of battle at between 125–130 ships, including 73 ‘great ships’ which were ready to sail. Embarked on this Italian vessel was Don Alonso de Leyva, commander-in-chief of the cavalry of Milan, together with seven hundred infantry and five siege guns.79
It was to be expected that the king would issue some last-minute instructions to Medina Sidonia, emphasising the importance of maintaining close contact with Parma so that Spanish naval and land operations could be synchronised. Philip pointed out that the English fleet’s aim would be to ‘fight at long range, in consequence of his advantage in artillery’, but the Armada should try to bring the enemy ships ‘to close quarters and grapple with [them]’. Another document described how the queen’s ships use their guns ‘in order to deliver [their] fire low and sink [their] opponent’s ships and you will take such precautions as you consider necessary in this respect’. After Parma had established a bridgehead in England, the Armada should station itself in the Thames estuary, with some squadrons guarding the passage between Kent and Flanders.
In this, the king failed to appreciate the importance of his navy having a safe harbour on or near the invasion beach, or the difficulties of capturing a convenient port. His only nod in this direction was contained in a separate set of secret instructions. These ordered Medina Sidonia to seize the Isle of Wight if Parma’s invasion failed:
[The island] is apparently not so strong as to be able to resist and may be defended if we gain it. This would provide . . . you with a safe port for shelter and will enable you to carry out such operations as may be rende
red possible . . . If you adopt this course, you will take notice that you should enter from the east side, which is wider than the west.
Finally the admiral received a sealed document which he was charged with delivering to Parma after the landing in England. This repeated the three objectives in any peace negotiations following the invasion in their order of importance: freedom to worship in the Catholic faith; return of the towns and cities captured by the English in the Low Countries; and financial compensation ‘for the injury they have done to me, my dominions and my subjects. This would amount to an exceedingly large sum.’80 Philip also appointed the cavalry commander, Don Alonso de Leyva, ‘as a man of courage, quality and experience’ as Armada captain-general in the event of Medina Sidonia being killed in action.81
On 21 May, Medina Sidonia wrote to Philip informing him that bad weather still detained the Armada at its moorings in Lisbon. Nine days later, when three leagues (nine nautical miles or 16.65 km) off the Portuguese coast, he reported the Armada was on its way to achieve the ‘Enterprise of England’.
The king, always anxious to tie up any loose threads, wrote to Mendoza in Paris. He was worried that bad weather might force some of his vulnerable galleys and galleasses into French ports where they should ‘enjoy the privileges accorded by the treaties of alliance between the Christian King [Henri III ] and myself’. There was no mention, naturally, of Philip’s financial and diplomatic assistance to the Duke of Guise and the Catholic League in France. Indeed, the ambassador was instructed to lie to the French king about the Armada’s mission by explaining that ‘the boldness of the English corsairs has forced me to endeavour to clear the seas of them this summer and I have consequently fitted out a fleet for that purpose and care will be taken that no damage or injury shall be done to his subjects’. The Spanish king wanted his French counterpart to understand this so that his ships should be ‘treated in a manner corresponding with the peace and kindness that exist between us. You should thus banish any suspicion on his own behalf and ingratiate him with the object in view.’82
Mendoza called a meeting of the English exiles in Paris and promised the Earl of Westmorland that his attainted estates would be fully restored to him. They all toasted the prospects of returning home to a Catholic England at a celebration at Lord Charles Paget’s house. Paget and his brother, who had purchased new uniforms from their tailor, then set off to join Parma’s army for the invasion. They boasted that Philip would hear Mass in St Paul’s Cathedral before October, but Stafford, the English ambassador, on hearing of this sneered that ‘if Philip came there himself, he shall be hanged at Tyburn before that time’. Amid all this excitement, Westmorland began to feel some qualms about a Spanish invasion, telling Stafford ‘his stomach is against a stranger setting foot in his country’.83
A rallying call to arms, written by the Jesuit Pedro de Ribadeneira in Lisbon, was issued to the Armada’s officers and gentlemen adventurers to boost their morale. Ribadeneira urged them to sail forth ‘to our glorious, honourable, necessary, profitable and not difficult undertaking’. God ‘in Whose sacred cause we go, will lead us. With such a Captain we need not fear. The saints of heaven will go in our company and particularly the holy patrons of Spain and those of England itself who are persecuted by the heretics and cry aloud to God for vengeance.’ English martyrs such as John Fisher, Cardinal-Bishop of Rochester and Sir Thomas More and ‘innumerable holy Carthusians, Franciscans and other holy men, whose blood was cruelly shed by King Henry [VIII ]’ call out to God ‘to avenge them from the land in which they died’. Those seminary priests ‘whom Elizabeth has torn to pieces with atrocious cruelty and exquisite torments’ would also help the new crusaders.
With us too, will be the blessed and innocent Mary, Queen of Scotland, who, still fresh from her sacrifice, bears copious and abounding witness to the cruelty and impiety of this Elizabeth and directs her shafts against her.
There also will await us the groans of countless imprisoned Catholics, the tears of widows who lost their husbands for the faith, the sobs of maidens who were forced to sacrifice their lives rather than destroy their souls, the tender children who suckled upon the poison of heresy, are doomed for perdition unless deliverance reaches them . . . and finally, myriads of workers, citizens, knights, nobles and clergymen and all ranks of Catholics, who are oppressed and downtrodden by the heretics and who are anxiously looking to us for their liberation . . .
Courage! Steadfastness! Spanish bravery! With these, the victory is ours and we have nought to fear.84
Antonio Aquereis, one of the army captains, feared it would be no contest because the English would not fight ‘as the force of the King is so great’. His cocksure confidence was reflected amongst his colleagues as the ‘best gentlemen in Spain’ cast lots over ‘who shall have England’.85
– 5 –
FIRST SIGHTING
When land was first sighted from this galleon, I had hoisted to the maintop a standard with a crucifix and the Virgin and [Mary] Magdalene on either side of it. I also ordered three guns to be fired and that we should all offer up prayer in thanks for God’s mercy in bringing us thus far.
Medina Sidonia to Philip II of Spain, San Martin off the Lizard peninsula, 30 July 1588.1,
The Armada made heavy weather sailing north along the coasts of Portugal and Spain in the teeth of adverse winds. The speed of any convoy is determined by that of its slowest ship and Medina Sidonia’s elderly transport hulks and the Mediterranean grain ships of Admiral Bertendona’s Levant squadron made ponderous headway through the rolling Atlantic swell. Their slow progress exacerbated the fact that the Armada’s soldiers and sailors were consuming food at an alarming rate. As some provisions had rotted and had to be thrown overboard, the Armada commander reduced meat rations and cut the issue of biscuit to one pound (454 grams) per man, per day.2
Eleven days into the mission, the hulk David Chico, loaded with biscuit, beans and peas, was dismasted and limped into Vivero in Galicia for repair3 as the winds veered to the north-west. With these more favourable conditions, Medina Sidonia dispatched Captain Francisco Moresin in a zabra, or pinnace, to deliver his report to the Duke of Parma in Flanders. Given that the Armada had been managing only four knots or four nautical miles (7.4 km) per hour, he was more than a little optimistic in urging Parma to bring his invasion force out to sea to meet his ships as soon as Moresin arrived.
The captain-general also announced his intention, after rendezvousing with Parma, to seek out an English port capable of sheltering ‘so great a fleet as this’. He had consulted his ‘pilots and practical seamen’ who had unanimously selected the east coast harbours of Ipswich and Harwich (as well as Dover), as suitable havens. The prospect of having to besiege and capture them did not seem to figure in his thinking. Rejoicing that his men remained ‘in good health and spirits, ready for the fight if the enemy face us’, Medina Sidonia told Parma: ‘I am equally anxious to have the joy of saluting your excellency soon because our junction must precede the execution of his majesty’s plans.’4 This confidence proved premature.
On 13 June, off Cape Finisterre on the tip of north-west Spain, the beds and partitions on the upper decks were swept away as the Spanish fleet rehearsed their battle drills at sea for the first time. Henceforth, most would be sleeping under the stars with no protection from the elements – so the prayers for fair weather assumed even more fervency.
With headwinds continuing to impede progress, Medina Sidonia began to fret about his supplies of food and potable water, which had become dangerously low. Dysentery, contracted from the green, fetid water held in the unseasoned casks, was also approaching endemic proportions. The full impact of Drake’s destruction of seasoned barrel staves the previous year was becoming evident. Four light galleys sent out from Corunna with fresh provisions for the Armada encountered two English reconnaissance ships heading south. After a brief struggle off Bayonne, the English vessels were captured and several Spaniards, acting as pilots, were discovered h
iding on board. They were summarily executed and the English prisoners enslaved to man the galleys’ oars.5 However, the galleys with their supplies failed to make contact with the Armada.
The captain-general considered putting into Corunna or Ferrol, but feared this would trigger mass desertion by the Armada’s soldiers and sailors, adding glumly, ‘as usual’. Eventually the growing provisions crisis forced him to steer for Corunna and by late evening on 19 June his flagship San Martin and thirty-five other warships were moored safely in its harbour. The remainder of the Armada, mainly the slower, more cumbersome vessels, anchored off the headland north of the port, below its second-century Roman lighthouse, La Torre de Hercules, planning to enter Corunna after dawn the next morning.
That night south-westerly gales battered the fleet, scattering the squadrons outside the harbour. Mountainous waves tossed the ships around like corks: La Concepción de Zubelzu, of the Biscayan squadron, lost her mainmast and the rudder of one of the four Portuguese galleys was swept away. Some vessels sought shelter in ports in Biscay, Asturias and Galicia, such as de Leyva’s badly damaged Rata Santa María Encoronada and Santa Ana, the flagship of the Guipúzcoan squadron, the latter minus its mainmast, yardarms and sails. A handful were driven northwards as far as the Scilly Isles. Medina Sidonia told the king on 21 June: ‘The people of the country say that so violent a sea and wind, accompanied by fog and tempest, have never been seen. It is very fortunate that not all the Armada was caught outside, particularly the galleys which would certainly have been wrecked and the whole Armada endangered.’6
The Spanish Armada Page 14
