As the storm continued to rage over the next few days, the captain-general dispatched zabras to hunt for the lost ships and ensure they mustered at Corunna. At least fourteen galleons and galleasses had been seriously damaged and thirty-five ships were missing, together with his entire siege artillery train and 6,567 soldiers and 1,882 sailors. Ensign Esquivel, whose zabra arrived off St Michael’s Bay and ‘Cape Longnose’ (the Lizard peninsula) in Cornwall four days after leaving Corunna, described the vessel’s terrifying battle against the elements, ‘with heavy squalls of rain and such a violent gale that during the night we had winds from every quarter of the compass’. The zabra shipped water at every wave and at four o’clock in the afternoon ‘after we have already received several heavy seas, a wave passed clean over us and nearly swamped’ the boat.
We were flush with the water and almost lost but by a great effort of all hands, the water was bailed out and everything thrown overboard.
We had previously thrown over a pipe of wine and two butts of water.
The next day they sighted six sails, three to the north and the remainder to the south-east: ‘We ran between them . . . and two . . . gave us chase.’ After some hours, the ships – probably English scouts – gave up their pursuit and later the Spanish came across an Armada strag- gler, ‘lying to and repairing with only her lower sails set’.7
The San Salvador, vice-flagship of the squadron of hulks, together with twelve sister ships, had been blown near the Scillies and encountered six enemy ships sent ‘to reconnoitre us’ while ‘signal lights were shown on land’. Three enemy vessels closed on the San Pedro Menor at the rear of the Spanish line and fired on her before heading back to the shore. Three days later, at dawn, the squadron sighted two ships near Lands End and the hulk El Gato attacked one of them, capturing it before it sank. Paloma Blanca opened fire on the other ship, damaging her main yardarm. ‘The admiral [Don Juan Gómez de Medina] went on board the prize to make her fit for sailing but the sea was terribly rough and the admiral was only saved by a miracle, for he broke two of his ribs whilst leaving the prize.’ It later sank in ‘immensely high’ seas.8
The weather was acknowledged to be astonishingly bad for June. Despondent, his faith in miracles thoroughly shaken, Medina Sidonia’s original grave doubts about the wisdom of the expedition were reawakened. On 24 June he told Philip that he had reluctantly taken on the mission as:
I recognised that we were attacking a kingdom so powerful and so warmly aided by its neighbours that we should need a much larger force than your majesty had collected at Lisbon. This was my reason for at first declining the command, seeing that the enterprise was being represented to our majesty as easier than it was known to be by those whose only aim was your majesty’s service . . .
We have now arrived at this port scattered and maltreated in such a way that we are much inferior in strength to the enemy . . . Many of our largest ships are still missing as well as two of the galleasses, whilst on the ships here there are many sick, whose number will increase in consequence of the bad provisions.
Because so much food had become putrid, there was only enough left for two months; ‘by this your majesty may judge whether we can proceed on the voyage upon the success of which so much depends’. To make matters worse, many of those engaged in this ‘Enterprise of England’ were inexperienced:
I am bound to confess that I see very few, or hardly any, of those on the Armada with any knowledge or ability to perform the duties entrusted to them.
I have tested and watched this point very carefully and your majesty may believe me when I assure you that we are very weak.
Do not, your majesty, allow yourself to be deceived by anyone who may wish to persuade you otherwise . . .
A moment of truth had arrived. The captain-general asked bluntly: ‘Well, Sire, how do you think we can attack so great a country as England with such a force as ours is now?’ While the Armada (or what was left of it), was being repaired in Corunna, would this not be the ideal opportunity to agree ‘some honourable terms with the enemy’?9
Not surprisingly, this gloomy letter alarmed and depressed Philip, who spent all ‘day and night in prayer, though suffering from the gout in his hand’, according to the Venetian envoy, Lippomano. He had celebrated his sixty-second birthday on 21 May, and his anxieties over the Armada were taking a toll. Although reportedly in ‘sound health’, the king was known to be ‘worn and tired’ by the huge volume of paperwork crossing his desk. Outside the Escorial Palace, Spain was still staging innumerable religious processions and ‘austerities, fasting and devotion’ for the success of the Armada.
More disquieting news arrived from Flanders. On 22 June, Parma wrote to the king, worried that the captain-general had
persuaded himself that I may be able to go out and meet him with these boats. These things cannot be and in the interests of your majesty’s service, I should be anxious if I thought [Medina Sidonia] were depending upon them . . . He will plainly see that with these little flat boats, built for rivers not for the sea, I cannot diverge from the short direct passage which has been agreed upon . . . If we came across any armed English or [Dutch] rebel ships, they could destroy us with the greatest ease.
An apprehensive Philip noted in the margin alongside this passage: ‘God grant that no embarrassment may come from this.’10
Parma was also still short of cash with which to buy provisions and pay his troops. Don Juan de Idiáquez, one of Philip’s secretaries, noted in a memorandum that invasion preparations in Flanders were proceeding well: ‘Everything seems to be satisfactory except the question of money. I hope to God that the duke’s tact and the prompt arrival of the Armada will have averted the threatened disorders on account of the lack of money,’ he added.11
Parma had arranged for copies of a proclamation to be printed in Antwerp, ready for distribution once the Spanish landed in England. The broadsheet, signed by Cardinal Allen and almost certainly written by him, made clear that the Armada was merely executing Pope Sixtus’s bull excommunicating Elizabeth, rather than being an act of naked aggression against England. It released her subjects from any obedience to her and called upon them to ‘unite themselves to the Catholic army’. English Catholics were to be protected from pillage and looting by marauding Spanish soldiers and large rewards were offered for the capture of ‘the said usurper or any of her accomplices’. Generous plenary indulgences would also be available to those penitents who helped capture and punish Elizabeth and her ungodly ministers. English heretics would face what today we would recognise as ‘religious re-education’; they would not be punished ‘until by conference with learned men and better consideration they may be informed of the truth’.12 The dark shadow of the Spanish Inquisition had fallen over England.
In Rome, Philip’s ambassador Olivares was filled with apprehension about the ominous silence from Madrid about the fleet’s progress. ‘As it is now thirty-nine days since the Armada sailed, I am extremely anxious that I have no news of it. If I recollect aright it was about this date that your majesty landed at Southampton,’ he wrote to the king.13 Sixtus V meanwhile remained ‘firm in his determination not to disburse one crown until the news [of the landing] arrives and he is unyielding to the pressure I put upon him for money when he received the news that the Armada had sailed’. The parsimonious Pope was busy collecting money ‘from all quarters so as not to be obliged to trench upon the sum in the Castel di Sant’ Angelo. He is furiously angry with your majesty and with me.’14
Meanwhile in Corunna, despite five more vessels struggling back over three days, Medina Sidonia’s doubts were as pressing as ever. Without waiting for his royal master’s reply, he called a council of war of his commanders on 27 June on board the San Martin. He sought their views on whether the Armada should continue their advance up the English Channel without the twenty-eight ships still missing from its order of battle. Only the firebrand Admiral Don Pedro de Valdés, who commanded the Andalusian ships, voted for going o
n immediately. However, he had examined his own squadron’s stores and found ‘biscuit sufficient for three months’ partly in bad condition, while ‘the bacon, cheese, fish, sardines and vegetables were all rotten’. The Armada’s inspector general, Don Jorge Manrique, confirmed that, with the exception of the bread and wine, ‘everything was spoilt and rotten as it had been on board for so long’. Accordingly the commanders agreed that the provisions were ‘insufficient for so large a force’ and that this should be reported immediately to Philip.15
Unsurprisingly, Medina Sidonia received a barrage of letters from the Escorial Palace and officials in Madrid. The king, writing on 1 July, began in a forthright, if not acerbic, manner:
From what I know of you, I believe that your bringing all these matters to my attention arises solely from your zeal to serve me and a desire to succeed in your command.
The certainty that this is so prompts me to be franker with you than I should be with another.
God was still firmly on the side of Spain: ‘If this was an unjust war, one could indeed take this storm as a sign from Our Lord to cease offending him. But being as just as it is, one cannot believe that He will disband it but will rather grant it more favour than we could hope.’ He reminded Medina Sidonia that, were the Armada to remain in Corunna, there was a danger the English – although possessing inferior naval forces to those of Spain – could impose a blockade and trap it inside the harbour, while simultaneously attacking and looting Spain’s treasure convoys or her coastal cities, in a repeat of Drake’s shaming and damaging raid on Cadiz.
We all know that every great enterprise is beset with difficulties and that the merit lies in overcoming them.
Nor is the enemy’s power so great that it could serve as a pretext for us to cease in our pursuit of him . . .
Of the enemy’s ships, some are old, others small and inferior to ours in strength and general excellence; if even the numerical superiority of our crews were overlooked and the advantage of long experience enjoyed by many of them.
When the tiros in the Armada are mingled with the practised hands, all may be considered as experienced.
The enemy’s crews, on the other hand, consist of novices, drawn from the common people – a tumultuous crowd, lacking military discipline.
These were brave words, bordering on the foolhardy. Was Philip guilty of the grave error of underestimating his enemy? Was his judgement skewed by his own propaganda? Or was he merely trying to bolster the morale of a dispirited commander? More likely, his unyielding faith in God’s favour for his personal and holy enterprise overrode any of Medina Sidonia’s objections.
There was no place for misgivings in Philip’s heart or mind. Neither would he accept any further argument: ‘I have dedicated this enterprise to God . . . Pull yourself together then and do your part!’ he told Medina Sidonia imperiously. Equally peremptory statements were expressed by the royal advisers Don Cristobal de Moura (‘Put on some weight and get some sleep’) and Idiáquez, who repeated his monarch’s heartfelt plea: ‘Pull yourself together!’16
A second letter from Philip, dated four days later, was less mordant:
My intention is . . . that when the forces are collected the voyage may be resumed. I hope that Our Lord will change these difficulties at the commencement [of the] triumph of His cause. Success largely depends upon fine weather and the season is now so advanced that not an hour should be lost. You must therefore exert every effort to make ready with all promptitude.
He brushed aside every one of the Armada’s logistical problems. Food supplies were ‘very considerable, besides what you may take on board at Corunna and the supplies that will be sent after you and provided for you in Flanders’. The king stressed: ‘You must take great care that the stores are really preserved and not allow yourself to be deceived as you were before.’ Medina Sidonia should be careful to ‘keep all the officers well up to their duties’ when loading adequate water supplies. As to the captain-general’s complaints about the slow speed of the Levant ships: ‘the expedition must not be abandoned on account of this difficulty which is not such a very great one after all’.17
Strangely, rather than increasing his forebodings of a mission impossible, these critical and pointed letters encouraged Medina Sidonia and stiffened his resolve. Perhaps he finally understood that he could not escape from his responsibilities. Thanking the king for his ‘consolation’, he pointed out, almost lyrically, that ‘those that go down to the sea in ships are exposed to these vicissitudes and I am consoled in the idea that He who has this expedition in His hand designs to take this course with it in order to infuse even more zeal in your majesty and more care in your officers’. As if to prove this divine support, God ‘has been pleased to send into this port today all the missing ships except two of the Levanters, the San Juan de Sicilia and the Santa María el Visón and two hulks, one of which is now in sight to leeward, the other being the Casa de Paz Grande which separated from the rest off Biscay as she was making a great deal of water’.
He promised Philip: ‘The refitting of all these ships shall be taken in hand at once. It shall have my personal attention for I am more anxious than anyone to expedite matters and get away from here. Your majesty may rest assured that no efforts of mine shall be spared and when the ships are refitted I shall not fail to take advantage of the first fair wind to sail.’18 Just to make sure of Medina Sidonia’s resolve, the king appointed as principal naval adviser Don Diego Flores de Valdés, commander of the Castilian squadron, to serve on the flagship at the captain-general’s elbow at all times.
While the Armada was being repaired and refitted, fresh food and water was loaded into its hulls and stores and munitions redistributed among the ships. A reinvigorated Medina Sidonia was not afraid of undertaking hard work himself to set an example in urging his men onward. On 10 July, he spent six hours in the dark and dirty depths of the Santa María de la Rosa hold, helping with the stepping of a replacement mainmast. He told Philip cheerfully: ‘When it was finished, I thought we had not done badly.’19
The captain-general also established a hospital to look after the five hundred men still suffering from fever. These were ‘progressing favourably under care and I hope, by God’s help, that every man will embark on the Armada’. However, others had voted with their feet. Despite Medina Sidonia’s precautions – he stationed a local infantry company on the quayside to picket the ships – and his pledges that he would ‘not lose a single man’, the Armada’s military contingent continued to slowly seep away through desertion.20
The commander of the Biscayan squadron, Admiral Juan Martinez de Recalde, who was recovering from an attack of sciatica, knew that for all his commander’s public display of energy and enthusiasm, the captain-general remained ‘much vexed at having to hurry the departure’. Recalde, too, had misgivings about the king’s naval strategy and believed it was imperative to locate a safe harbour to shelter the Armada after Parma had landed. He told Philip: ‘If it were found possible to obtain anchorage . . . in the river [Thames] itself, supported by the army, no other reinforcements will be needed, or at least those from Flanders will suffice.’ Failing that, a West Country port such as Falmouth, Plymouth or Dartmouth, would prove convenient:
especially as the highly necessary reinforcements of men and stores will have to be sent from Spain and isolated vessels will be exposed to much danger from the enemy higher up the [English] Channel . . .
In the case of our encountering and defeating the enemy, I feel sure that he will not suffer so much damage . . . [and] at all events [have enough ships to] impede the passage of our reinforcements high up the Channel.
But it will be difficult for him to do this if our Armada be stationed in [these] ports.
If it were possible for the reinforcement to be sent in sufficient strength to attack these ports whilst the conquest is being effected higher up [in the English Channel], that will be the best course.
After the army of Flanders has been taken acro
ss and strengthened, the Armada might return towards Ushant and meet the reinforcements with which it might enter one of the ports and then either push a force inland towards the Bristol Channel or form a junction with the other army.
Recalde was also worried about the problems of transporting Parma’s army across the Straits of Dover: ‘This will take some little time, as in the case of there being a cavalry force (as I understand there will be), it cannot be carried over in one passage and we shall be fortunate if it can be done in two.’21
On 13 July, the Armada finally mustered at Corunna, totalling one hundred and twenty-nine ships, with 7,700 sailors and 18,000 soldiers embarked, augmented by two companies from the city’s garrison. Many replacement troops were raw and untried and Medina Sidonia ordered that selected veterans should be transferred into some units ‘so that every vessel will have a proportion of old and new men’ to stiffen their esprit de corps.
Other recruits appeared even less martial. Recalde despaired of the ‘young fellows’ who had been appointed captains simply because they were gentlemen. ‘Very few of them are soldiers or know what to do,’ he complained. The medical officer of the Andalusian flagship Nuestra Señora del Rosario reported that some of these adventurers, having landed in Corunna, ‘would not go forward’.22
There was worse to come. Four hundred Galician soldiers sent by the Count of Lemos and some of the levies from Monterey were ‘so useless that they are no good, even as pioneers’, Medina Sidonia observed. A number of the troops were starving and appeared more dead than alive. None knew what a harquebus or musket was. ‘They are nearly all married and have large families and are absolutely unserviceable old men. Their wives have been coming in with their troubles and lamentations to such an extent that it goes against my conscience to ship the men. I have thought it best to send them all away and they have gone to their homes.’23
The Spanish Armada Page 15
