FROM THE ARMADA TO THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN
AUTHORITIES.--In addition to the books quoted at the head of the last
chapters, Sir William Monson's _Naval Tracts_, to be found in vol.
iii. of Churchill's _Voyages_, are of great value for the later part
of the great queen's reign. Sir Richard Hawkins's account of his own
voyage to the South Seas contains much most valuable information as
to the naval life of the time. It has been published by the Hakluyt
Society. Linschoten, printed in English by the same Society, is
valuable for the loss of the =Revenge=, and for the picture it gives
of the Spanish and Portuguese methods of conducting trade, and of
their disasters. The accessible evidence for the voyages of the Earl
of Cumberland is in Purchas. Southey took the cream off the narratives
of Elizabethan sea adventure in the _Lives of the Admirals_, written
for the Cabinet Cyclopædia.
Being now delivered from all fear of an attack by Spain, and at the
same time persuaded that there was no hope of peace with Philip till he
was thoroughly broken, Elizabeth's Government retaliated for the Armada
by a vigorous raid on the coast of Spain. In theory, the expedition
was intended to do much more than merely harass the King of Spain's
coasts. There was an avowed intention to help the Prior of Ocrato,
who claimed the throne of Portugal, to recover the kingdom out of the
hands of King Philip. But the forces provided were quite insufficient
for such a serious undertaking as the reconquest of Portugal, although
they were very large in proportion to the resources of England and her
Dutch allies. The Dutch, in fact, who were threatened by a serious
attack at home, were compelled to withhold a great part of the forces
which they had promised to contribute. Still, the expedition contained
11,000 troops and 1500 seamen. The command at sea was given to Sir
Francis Drake, and the command of the troops to the officer who had
then the greatest military reputation in England, Sir John Norris.
It did not, on the whole, prove successful. The withholding of the
old English troops in the Low Countries made it necessary to rely
wholly on new levies. They, as usual, proved untrustworthy. Upwards of
one-third of the men are said to have deserted before the expedition
sailed at all. Finding that if they delayed much longer they would
probably be weakened to a much more dangerous extent, Drake and Norris
put to sea on the 15th of April, and five days later landed in the
neighbourhood of Corunna, with the intention of taking the town. They
had no difficulty in burning the suburbs, and in scattering a body of
country militia brought down by the king's governor to attack them.
But the upper town beat off all their attacks; and in the meantime the
soldiers had broken into the stores of wine collected for export, and
had drunk so freely that illness began to infest the squadron. Corunna
having beaten it off, the fleet now went on to the coast of Portugal.
Her partners' desire for booty had once more hampered the execution
of the queen's political purposes. Every day wasted on the road to
Portugal gave King Philip more time to prepare for defending his
conquest, but the adventurers had need of the plunder of the town in
order to cover their expenses, and therefore time was wasted in futile
attempts to take a strongly fortified place without a battering-train.
After the failure at Corunna, Drake and Norris anchored at Peniche,
and there landed the troops who were still in a condition to render
service. According to the plan, they were to march overland to Lisbon,
while Drake promised to enter the Tagus and meet them at the town.
But the scheme broke down entirely. Norris did indeed march to the
gates of Lisbon, but he found it far too strongly held to be attacked
by him. The profuse promises made by Dom Antonio, the pretender, were
completely falsified by experience. The crowds of partisans on whom he
relied for help did not appear. Drake found it impossible even to enter
the Tagus, a river with a very swift current, heavily fortified at
the mouth. At last, Norris, finding that he was in danger of attack by
the troops collecting in the interior of the country, re-embarked his
men, and the expedition returned home. It hung about on the coast for a
time in the hope of picking up a few prizes, and it had a brush or two
with the King of Spain's galleys at the mouth of the Tagus. In one of
these, the galleys, aided by a dead calm, succeeded in cutting off and
setting on fire one English vessel which carried a company of soldiers.
But the Spanish trade had been so completely frightened that it had no
longer any ships at sea. The provisions began to run out. Disease had
made so much progress in the squadron that barely two thousand men were
left fit for service. It finally returned home in the midst of very
bad weather, having failed of its main purposes, but having also shown
how entirely the destruction of the Armada had prostrated the naval
strength of the King of Spain.
An equally convincing proof of Spanish weakness was given in the
following year. A squadron of ten ships, all belonging to the
queen, were sent out to the "Isles," that is to say, to the Azores
and Canaries, under the command of Sir John Hawkins and Sir Martin
Frobisher. This was a regular military expedition designed to interrupt
the trade of Spain with America, and if possible to cripple King
Philip by capturing his treasure-ships on their way home. So far
as interrupting Spanish trade was concerned, Hawkins and Frobisher
were completely successful. So feeble was the great King of Spain at
sea, that he forbade his _flota_ to return home this year lest it
should fall into the hands of the English cruisers. The loss to him
was immense, as also to his subjects, but to us the stoppage of the
Spanish treasure-ships was a disappointment. It was not enough for
Elizabeth, who had great expenses to meet, to prevent the King of
Spain from receiving his silver. She had cherished the hope that at
least some portion of it would fall into the hands of her officers.
When, therefore, they cruised for seven long months without taking a
single prize, great or small, the queen was in a very bad temper. It
was on this occasion that Sir John Hawkins, when giving an account of
his ill success, attempted to justify himself by use of his favourite
biblical language. "Paul," said the old sea-rover, "planteth and
Apollos watereth, but it is God who giveth the increase." This attempt
to console her for the loss of her money, in the style of the Puritans,
whom she loathed with a peculiar detestation, was more than enough to
provoke an explosion from the great queen. It is said that she broke
out with "God's death! this fool went out a soldier, and is come home a
divine."
Although Queen Elizabeth consoled herself for her disappointment by
snubbing the unctuous piety of Hawkins, she did not cease sending out
these expeditions to the "Isles." They were indeed the main course of
the naval war of the rest of her reign. The object was to reduce Philip
to impotence by cutting off his supplies of treasure. As the ships
which carried out the trade from Spain and returned with the cargoes
and bullion from the New World were under the necessity of stopping at
the "Isles" to water and refit, it was good policy to wait for them
where they might be expected to be met with tolerable certainty. In
order to make doubly sure, it was much the practice for the English
ships to divide, some of them taking their station off Cadiz, and
others cruising near the Azores. Thus, if the Spaniards missed the
ships at the "Isles," they might fall into the hands of the others at
the mouth of the Straits. The squadrons employed on this work did not
consist wholly of the queen's ships. A large part of them belonged to
private adventurers--either men of business who fitted out vessels as
a commercial speculation, or gallant gentlemen of the stamp of the
Earl of Cumberland, whose voyages are among the most brilliant made in
the great queen's reign. None of these voyages to the "Isles" proved
as fully successful as the queen could have wished, but they did do
enormous damage to the King of Spain, and indirectly they had important
permanent consequences for England.
The voyage of 1591 was rendered extremely memorable by the famous last
fight of the =Revenge=. In this year the queen sent out her squadron
under the command of Lord Thomas Howard. It consisted of six ships,
and it took up the cruising ground occupied to so little purpose by
Hawkins and Frobisher in the previous year. By this time it had become
impossible for the King of Spain to delay his _flota_ again. Orders
had therefore been sent to come on at all hazards. Foreseeing that his
vessels would be in danger from the English at the Azores, King Philip
had prepared another armament which was to sail from Cadiz to meet the
_flota_ in mid-voyage and escort it home. While Howard was cruising
at the Azores, the Earl of Cumberland was on a private venture on the
coast of Spain. He sighted the Spanish fleet on its way out from Cadiz,
and despatched a quick-sailing pinnace called the =Moonshine= with a
warning to Howard. The =Moonshine= found the English admiral at anchor
in Flores Bay, with a great part of his men on shore watering, and some
sick with the scurvy. The warning had barely been delivered to Howard
before the Spanish fleet under the command of Alonso de Bazan, the
brother of Don Álvaro, was almost upon him. The roadstead of Flores
opens to the N.W., and the Spanish fleet came round the western side
of the island, tacking against the westerly wind. It would have been
extremely rash in Lord Thomas Howard to allow himself to be caught with
his little handful of ships by so superior a force of the enemy in a
position where he could not avoid attack. He therefore very properly
prepared to stand out to sea without delay.
It was of course impossible to desert the men on shore. They were
provided for by leaving the =Revenge=, the flagship of Sir Richard
Grenville, the second in command, which was esteemed the best sailer of
the queen's ships, to pick them up and then to join the flag outside.
Before the men were collected, the Spanish fleet was opposite the
roadstead. Apparently Lord Thomas Howard had stood out to sea, so that
the fleet of Don Alonso de Bazan was between him and the =Revenge=.
When Sir Richard Grenville stood out from the anchorage, he had an easy
means of rejoining his admiral. All he had to do was to put before the
wind, to run to leeward of the Spaniards, and join Lord Thomas on the
other side. As a matter of fact, this course was actually followed
by a small transport, or victualler, left behind with the =Revenge=.
But although this was the safe and sensible course, it had about it
an air of flight. Flight in the circumstances would not have appeared
discreditable to an ordinary officer, but Sir Richard Grenville was
not an ordinary officer. He was a man of a passionate nature, with
a large share of what we may with all due reverence describe as the
swaggering courage of the Elizabethans. We must not judge him as a man
of to-day, but as a gentleman of Devon, with a mediæval spirit on the
point of honour and a superb valour, who had probably been fed upon
tales of chivalry, and was very capable of acting after the manner of
a knight-errant. It was, in fact, exactly as a knight-errant that he
behaved. His sailing-master advised him to put before the wind and
trust to the speed of his ship, but Grenville refused. To understand
what exactly was the point of honour upon which he fought, it is
necessary to remember that at sea the windward position is the place
of honour. He who makes way for another, and passes to leeward of him,
acknowledges the superiority of the ship for which he makes way. If,
then, Grenville had put before the wind, and had run to leeward of
the Spaniards, he would in his own opinion have confessed that they
were his betters. Now this he would not do, and he therefore decided
that at whatever hazard to himself, his ship, and his crew, "he would
pass through the two squadrons in spite of them, and enforce that of
Seville to give him way." This, it seems, if the English version of the
story is to be believed, "he performed upon divers of the foremost who
sprang and fell under the lee of the =Revenge="; that is to say, in
the modern phrase, they bore up and made way for the =Revenge=. It is
probable that these were small vessels, perhaps _urcas_, for a large
proportion of the fifty-three ships under the command of Don Alonso de
Bazan were certainly transports employed to carry soldiers, and not
provided with a battery of guns. However that may be, the _St. Philip_,
the first of the great Spanish galleons in a position to bar his way,
did not bear up for Grenville. On the contrary, she ran into him to
windward, and, being much the bigger and higher ship of the two, took
the wind out of his sails and immediately stopped his way. From that
moment the fate of the =Revenge= was settled. Other vessels joined
the _St. Philip_, and the =Revenge= was shut in. In that position she
maintained a defence so long and so desperate, that it is only to be
accounted for by the very bad gunnery of the Spaniards, and by the fact
that the action began shortly before dark, and was prolonged through
the night. The want of light had unquestionably a great deal to do with
preventing the Spaniards from overpowering the crew of the =Revenge=
by mere numbers. Lord Thomas Howard did not desert his fiery second in
command. He did, on the contrary, all that was possible for him with a
handful of undermanned ships. He attacked the Spaniards from windward
as closely as he could without allowing himself to be entangled in the
midst of their superior numbers. More he could not have done without
manifest folly; and it is even said that when he did show a disposition
to sail into the midst of the Spaniards, his master threatened to throw
himself overboard rather than have any share in the destruction of the
queen's ships. It was probably during the night that Lord Thomas Howard
left his knightly colleague to his fate, and sailed away. At daybreak
the =Revenge= was completely battered to pieces, forty of her men were
killed and a number wounded. Grenville himself was mortally hurt. If
he could still have had his way, he would rather have blown his ship
up than allow her to fall into the hands of the enemy, but his crew
were not disposed to be sacrificed any further. They insisted on being
allowed to surrender, and the Spaniards gave them quarter. Grenville
himself was carried still living onto the flagship of Don Alonso de
Bazan. He declared in his last breath, in Spanish, if Linschoten is to
be believed: "Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful heart and
a quiet mind, for that I have ended my life as a good soldier ought
to do, who has fought for his country, queen, religion, and honour.
Wherefore my soul joyfully departeth out of this body, and shall always
leave behind it an everlasting fame of a true soldier, who hath done
his duty as he was bound to do. But the others of my company have done
as traitors and dogs, for which they shall be reproached all their
lives, and leave a shameful name for ever."
Linschoten was at that time a resident in the Islands, and may very
well have had at least the substance of this speech from the Spaniards
who actually heard it. It is too consistent not only with the character
of the man, but of that of the type to which he belonged, to be wholly
false. There was in the action as well as in the literature of the
Elizabethan time a strain of rodomontade. The death of Sir Richard
Grenville was emphatically what the sixteenth century described as a
rodomontade in act. The capture of the =Revenge= was much boasted of by
the Spaniards, and is still remembered by them with some complacence.
Even, however, if we allow for a large element of exaggeration in our
own accounts of the battle, it was not a feat which redounded much to
their glory. Nor was the end of this effort to protect the return home
of the trade from America fortunate. Lord Thomas Howard was indeed
driven off, and two days after the action the galleons on their way
home from America joined Don Alonso. They represented only the remains
of the convoys which had sailed from the ports of New Spain. The ships
stopped by Philip's orders in the preceding year had suffered much from
the _teredo_ or boring worm, and numbers went down before reaching the
Islands. Of the remainder few ever lived to see Spain. Shortly after
they had joined Don Alonso, a violent gale, which lasted for seven days
and blew in succession from different quarters, burst on the hundred
and forty ships now collected under the command of the Spanish admiral.
More than a hundred went down or were wrecked on the Islands. The loss
was greater than that of the Armada, and the blow sustained by the
naval power of Spain even more irreparable.
The next two years saw a repetition of these voyages to the Isles,
distinguished by the usual features of active enterprise and seamanship
on the part of the English, and of helpless adherence to routine on
the part of the Spaniards. In 1594, however, the queen's policy was
changed. Although these voyages to the Islands were sound in policy,
and had done immense mischief to the Spaniards, they had not proved
profitable to the queen. In 1594 she listened to the advice of Sir
Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, and decided to revert to an
older method of striking at the wealth of the King of Spain. "These
two generals," says Sir William Monson, "presuming much upon their
own experience and knowledge, used many persuasions to the queen to
undertake a voyage to the West Indies, giving much assurance to perform
great services, and promising to engage themselves very deeply therein
with the adventure of both substance and life." The plan was, in fact,
a repetition of the scheme partially executed in 1585. It was to
sail to the West Indies and there seize the King of Spain's treasure
at its port of departure. The plunder of the Islands and of Spanish
ships would, it was calculated, at any rate cover the expenses of the
expedition. It was late in sailing, owing to fear of an invasion by the
Spaniards from the Low Countries.
The Cardinal Archduke Albert, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands since
Parma's death in 1592, had made himself master of the great part of
Brittany, and one small expedition did actually come out of the little
port of Blavet and burn the town of Penzance. So soon, however, as it
was known that the invasion would be limited to this trumpery raid,
Drake and Hawkins were allowed to sail. As was usual in the case, the
squadron consisted only in part of ships belonging to the queen. Of
these there were six--the =Defiance=, in which Sir Francis Drake had
his flag, and the =Garland=, the flagship of Sir John Hawkins, the
=Hope=, the =Bonaventure=, the =Foresight=, and the =Adventurer=. There
were, besides these, twenty vessels belonging to private adventurers.
Two thousand six hundred soldiers were embarked to serve on shore in
the proposed capture of Panama. They were under the command of Sir
Thomas Baskerville, a gentleman of Devon.
The old kinsmen and fellow-adventurers, who had begun the brilliant
epoch of Elizabethan naval achievement, sailed, on what was destined
to be their last voyage, from Hawkins's native town of Plymouth on the
28th of August 1594. They began by following the usual route to the
West Indies by the Grand Canary. Here, according to precedent, they
spent time in attempting to plunder. Hawkins is said to have been in
favour of pushing on at once to the West Indies in obedience to the
queen's orders. Information had been received in England to the effect
that a Spanish treasure-ship had put into Puerto Rico disabled. It
was obvious that the sooner the English squadron appeared before the
port, the better would be its chance of finding the treasure-ship
still there, and of taking the town unprepared. But although Hawkins's
advice was unquestionably sound, it was overruled by Drake and
Baskerville, who had the support of public opinion in the squadron.
The sailors, under pretence of seeking provisions, were in fact eager
for plunder. It was therefore decided to land and pillage, but the
fleet had overshot its mark. The town of Gran Canaria could not be
attacked before the Spaniards had time to put it into a defensible
position. Finding La Gran Canaria too strong to be taken, the English
commanders were constrained to be satisfied with landing a few men
at an out-of-the-way place for fresh water. Even this did not in the
end succeed with them. Some stragglers from the watering parties were
attacked by the native herdsmen, who killed most of them, and took
the others prisoners. From one of the men taken the Spanish governor
learned the destination of the fleet, and immediately despatched a
quick-sailing vessel to put the towns of the West Indies upon their
guard. They had, however, been already warned by the King of Spain, who
was well supplied with information from England. Finding that there
was nothing to be done at the Canaries, Drake and Hawkins stood on to
the Leeward Islands, and stopped to water at Dominica and Guadaloupe.
On entering the West Indies they were scattered by a storm. While they
were rejoining one another and trading with the natives of the islands
for food and water, the Spaniards were actively at work to defeat the
purpose of the expedition. King Philip had not been careless of the
safety of his treasure-ship. He had despatched from Spain a squadron
of eight _zabras_, under the command of Don Pedro Tello, with orders
to bring the bullion home. By a piece of extraordinary bad fortune for
us, five of the vessels under Tello's command captured a little bark
of thirty-five tons belonging to Hawkins's squadron. This misfortune
happened in the sight of a larger English ship, which escaped and
brought the bad news to Hawkins, who is reported to have sickened at
once as foreseeing the inevitable consequences. Don Pedro Tello did
what any English commander of the time would have done without scruple.
He put his prisoners to the torture, and compelled them to tell him
where the expedition was bound. Then he hurried on to Puerto Rico.
The English commanders delayed for some days longer at Guadaloupe,
and then continued their route in what seems to have been a very
leisurely fashion. Dissensions are said to have broken out between
Drake and Hawkins, and there is certainly in the whole history of their
proceedings a want of the promptitude and resolution they had shown
when younger men. Before they reached Puerto Rico, Hawkins died, and
was buried at sea.
Though released from a colleague with whom he had not worked happily
hitherto, Sir Francis Drake was not more successful when left to
himself. He attacked Puerto Rico in vain. The Spaniards had had time
to land the treasure and to put the port into a state of defence. The
English lost upwards of a hundred men in the repulse. This experience
seems to have convinced the surviving leaders that it was hopeless to
waste more time at Puerto Rico. They therefore proceeded to carry out
the remainder of their instructions. But for once we were doomed to
failure and to find fortune everywhere against us. As is so often the
case, bad fortune meant mistaken calculation. Drake and Hawkins had
not realised that a great change had come over the West Indies within
the last ten years. The smaller Spanish posts had been harried out of
existence, and the larger had been fortified by the King of Spain's
engineers. Thus there was no such opportunity for plunder as had been
presented a few years before to forces incapable of undertaking a
regular siege. After one or two unsuccessful attempts to extort ransom
from towns along the coast, which were deserted at their approach,
Drake and Baskerville decided to make the long-delayed attack on
Panama. Drake himself remained with the ships at Nombre de Dios, while
Baskerville with seven hundred and fifty men attempted that overland
march which in after times was triumphantly executed by the buccaneers
of Sir Henry Morgan. But in 1594 the Spanish Government was far
stronger than it was in the later seventeenth century. Baskerville met
with very serious resistance. He was harassed while marching through
the bush, and repulsed with heavy loss in attacking a stockade erected
by the Spaniards across the road. Finding his enterprise hopeless, even
if he and his comrades were prepared to "cloy the jaws of death," he
returned to Nombre de Dios. The Indians, who had been friendly when
Drake was formerly on the coast, were now hostile, perhaps because of
the excesses of the meaner adventurers who had followed Sir Francis. A
detachment of English were cut off by them in an ambuscade. It began
to be borne in upon the mind of Sir Francis Drake that his life of
daring and success was to end in failure. "Sir Francis Drake, who
was wont to rule fortune, now finding his error, and the difference
between the present state of the Indies and what it was when he first
knew it, grew melancholy upon this disappointment, and suddenly, and I
hope naturally, died at Porto Bello, not far from the place where he
got his first reputation." So says Sir William Monson; but there is no
reason to suppose that the death of Drake was due to any other cause
than the action of disappointment and the evil climate of the coast on
a constitution tried by long and hard service. After the deaths of the
two seamen leaders, Sir Thomas Baskerville brought home whatever fever
and the sword had spared in the most unsuccessful of all the fleets of
Elizabeth's reign. He returned by the Straits of Florida, fighting an
indecisive action with the squadron of the King of Spain's ships at
the west end of Cuba on his way.
Neither of the voyages to the "Isles" nor this attempt to revert to the
attacks on the West Indies had answered the expectations of Elizabeth
and her Council. In spite of his many failures and disasters, Philip
was indefatigable in refitting his fleet and in organising constant
renewed attempts to invade England. By land, the excellence of his
troops, and the capacity of his military officers in Flanders, gave
him some compensation for his disasters at sea. The Spaniards had
established themselves on the coast of Brittany, and even succeeded
in capturing Calais. In 1596, then, the queen seemed in almost as
much danger as she had been in 1588. This time, however, Elizabeth
took the course which had then been pressed upon her by her captains.
She decided to make a formidable attack on the King of Spain at
home. Acting on the earnest advice of Lord Howard, and of the Earl
of Essex, who was now at the height of his favour, she took part in
a great combined expedition to Cadiz. A fleet of 150 sail was got
together. The queen contributed 17 ships of the Royal Navy, a very
large proportion of the whole at that time, and the sum of no less
than £50,000, which was about one-eighth of her regular revenue; her
Dutch allies contributed 18 ships of war and 6 storeships; the others
were vessels either levied in the seaports by the Crown, or belonging
to adventurers. This fleet carried 1000 gentlemen volunteers, 6368
troops, and 6772 seamen, exclusive of the Dutch. It was most carefully
organised, and sailed with precise instructions to do the utmost
possible amount of damage to the King of Spain's men-of-war in his
havens, to his magazines of victuals and munitions for arming his navy,
without hazarding men or ships on merely foolish or rash undertakings.
In sharp contrast to the campaign of 1594, this was extraordinarily
successful. The fleet sailed on the 1st of June, and swept down to
Cadiz in twenty days, capturing everything it met on the way. So
thoroughly was this work done that not a single one of the caravels
which the Spaniards had at sea for the purpose of scouting was able
to escape into harbour with information of the approach of the allied
fleet. Its appearance before Cadiz on the 20th of June was a complete
surprise to the enemy.
The town rises out of the sea from a mass of rock joined to the
mainland by a long narrow spit and a bridge. This isthmus, natural and
artificial, runs from S.E. to N.W. Between it and the land to the east
lies the harbour of Cadiz, which is divided into outer and inner by a
tongue of land thrust out from the island of Cadiz itself, towards the
mainland, called Puntal, or the Point. It has a fort at the extremity.
The inner harbour stretches eastward into the mainland of Spain. Puerto
Real and the great arsenal called the Carraca lie respectively on the
northern and southern sides of the eastern end of this harbour.
When the allied fleet was seen outside, the outer harbour of Cadiz
contained a number of richly-laden galleons and a squadron of the
King of Spain's galleys. The galleons were drawn up across the mouth
of the harbour, while the galleys were stationed on either side, with
their prows turned inwards for the purpose of flanking any attack. The
appearance of resolution which this disposition of their forces was
calculated to give was not borne out by the steadiness of the Spaniards
under attack. The allied fleet had no difficulty in forcing its way
into the inner harbour, and then the galleons, except two which were
taken, and two burned by the Spaniards, fled up to Puerto Real, while
the galleys escaped to sea, through an opening in the spit connecting
the town of Cadiz with the mainland. It was the belief of some of the
officers present, that if the allies had contented themselves with
merely cutting Cadiz off from the mainland by occupying some point on
the connecting road, they might have followed the galleons and merchant
ships which took refuge at Puerto Real with the certainty of securing
an enormous booty, and with every probability that the town of Cadiz
would fall whenever they returned to attack it. This judicious plan was
rendered impossible of application by the headlong zeal of the Earl of
Essex. Having attacked, and silenced, the fort at the end of Puntal,
he landed and marched on to storm the town itself. His example aroused
the emulation of Lord Howard, of Lord Thomas Howard, and of Sir Walter
Raleigh. They hastened to land and join in the assault upon the town.
Cadiz, being destitute of a regular garrison and ill-fortified, fell
without much difficulty before the attack of the allies, though not
without sharp fighting in the streets and marketplace, in which one
distinguished English officer, Sir John Winkfield, was shot dead. Cadiz
remained in the possession of the allies for a fortnight. To the honour
of their commanders be it said, they behaved with a moderation very
seldom shown at that time after the storm of a city. Strict order was
maintained, and the allies were content to levy a moderate ransom on
the city, though they might easily have sacked it as brutally as the
Spanish armies of the time had sacked the cities of the Low Countries.
On the Spanish side nothing more effectual was performed than the
burning of the ships which had taken refuge at Puerto Real. This
was done by the orders of the same Duke of Medina Sidonia who had
commanded the Armada. He was still Captain-General of Andalusia, by the
undeserved favour of his king, and he once more had an opportunity of
covering himself with ridicule. After retaining possession of Cadiz for
as long as they pleased, the allies set it on fire, and retreated with
less booty than they had hoped to obtain, but certainly with immense
honour, and after dealing the heaviest blow to the dignity of the
King of Spain it had as yet had to endure. On the way home the fleet
plundered the little Portuguese town of Faro in Algarve, when they
carried off the library of Bishop Osorio, "which library," says Monson,
"was brought into England by us and many of the books bestowed upon the
newly erected library at Oxford." It was counted the most remarkable
proof of the good fortune and good management of this armament that it
returned in health.
Successful though the expedition had been, it had not satisfied the
queen. Honour had been gained in abundance, but the material results
were not what Her Majesty and her Council had been led to expect. No
sooner had the Lord Admiral and his colleague, the Earl of Essex,
reached home than they were importuning the queen for money to pay the
wages of their men. Now this was not what the queen had looked for.
She had been induced to advance so great a sum of money as £50,000 by
the eager assurances of Howard and Essex that an attack on the King of
Spain's harbours, made with sufficient force, must needs be extremely
lucrative. It was commonly reported that many of those who took part in
the "Cadiz Voyage" had returned with a comfortable sum of plunder. Yet
there was nothing due to Her Majesty capable of covering the expenses
of the campaign, still less of leaving her a margin of profit on her
£50,000. Therefore the generals were subjected to very searching
inquiries why they had nothing more to produce, and were compelled to
justify themselves as well as they could. The real explanation was
that they had been in such a hurry to seize the town that they had
neglected to take possession of the ships before the Spaniards had time
to burn them. For this postponement of the more profitable to the less
there were two reasons. Of these, one is to be found in the difference
between the meaning of the words "prize" and "plunder." Prize meant
whatever had to be thrown into a common stock and divided _pro rata_.
It included an enemy's ships, with their cargoes and ordnance, and
the ransom of towns, or whatever was paid for the release of goods
afloat from capture. In this the common sailor and soldier only took
his share when the whole was divided on the return home. Plunder
meant whatever the men were entitled to take possession of at once.
It included small arms, cabin furniture, the personal ransom paid for
prisoners, whatever loose cash they had in their pockets when they were
taken, their clothes and jewellery. A civilised enemy was accustomed
to exercise a certain decency in the exercise of this right of war. It
was thought more becoming not to strip the prisoners actually naked,
and, in some cases at least, it was made a rule that the women were
not to be deprived of their earrings. At Cadiz the chiefs protected
"the better sort of merchants' wives." They were allowed to go off
unmolested to the number of two hundred or so, under an escort provided
by the Earl of Essex. They availed themselves of his courtesy to put
on all their best dresses at once, together with all their rings and
necklaces. But although Essex and Howard kept the pillage of Cadiz
within exceptionally close limits, it is certain that the town must
have afforded a great deal of miscellaneous plunder. The women who did
not have the good fortune to be included among "the better sort of
merchants' wives" were probably left with little enough of whatever
finery they may have possessed. As for the men, nobody would stand on
much ceremony with them. Such portable property as plate, or the goods
in the shops, would be taken as a matter of course, every man seizing
for himself whatever came in his way.
On the ships there was much less of this promiscuous plunder than in
the town, and the men, whether soldiers or sailors, were perfectly
well aware of the fact. Essex excused himself for not seeing that the
ships were taken possession of, by saying that he had instructed the
sailors to follow up the galleons to Puerto Real, while the soldiers
of the expedition were engaged in occupying the town. But the sailors
were extremely unlikely to accept a division of labour which would
have thrown a good deal of work, with a prospect of remote reward, on
them, while it left the soldiers the exclusive enjoyment of the plunder
of Cadiz. They were the less likely to do so, because experience had
shown them that when the final division of the prize came to be made in
England, Her Majesty would take very good care that the lion's share
of it should fall to the Crown. Therefore, when once the example of
attacking Cadiz was set by the Earl of Essex, the whole combined force,
military and naval, hastened to the place where lay the largest and the
most immediate share of profit.
Another explanation of the failure to make a thoroughly successful
commercial speculation of the capture of Cadiz, is to be found in the
rivalry between the chiefs. To this there was a chivalrous side. The
eagerness with which Howard and Essex, Raleigh and Lord Thomas Howard,
strove to outstrip one another for the foremost place in driving back
the King of Spain's galleons, and storming his city, makes a very
gallant story. They behaved much after the manner to be expected of
spirited sixth-form boys. In that there was nothing dangerous to the
interests of the service. But this emulation had another side, which is
only to be accurately described by the less honourable name of rivalry.
Essex and Raleigh were both courtiers who were endeavouring to excel
one another in the favour of the queen by outdoing one another in the
flatteries Elizabeth loved. They had come to open hostility already,
and having been reconciled, they of course hated one another mortally.
At Cadiz the evil consequences of their hostility were hardly apparent.
But there was enough of it to prevent the campaign of 1596 from being
as fully successful as it might have been. There was in the greater
Elizabethan enterprises unity of sentiment and a vigour of energy which
produced success in the main, but there was hardly what in the full
sense of the word is called discipline. In addition to the rivalry
between the leaders, there was a rivalry between the different types
of men. The sailor and the sailor officer were opposed to the soldier.
The latter grew impatient when the former endeavoured to overbear him
by appeals to seamanship, and the conditions of war at sea which the
military man only vaguely understood, while the sailor was apt to think
himself sacrificed to the soldier.
Each of these forms of rivalry had a share in producing the failure of
the next considerable naval effort of Elizabeth's reign. In 1597 Philip
was still threatening England with attack, this time from the Basque
Ports. After the loss of so much money in the previous year, Elizabeth
was by no means disposed to renew the voyage to Cadiz. Indeed it is
doubtful whether she could have repeated that attack without straining
her popularity to a dangerous extent. Not she only, but London and the
smaller ports, had been put to heavy expenses for small profit. If the
queen had attempted to press ships from London and the out-ports,
there would certainly have been a considerable outcry, and it was never
her policy to give her subjects any excuse for being discontented, when
it was in her power to avoid it. She therefore fitted out a moderate
squadron of fifteen ships. It was put under the command of the Earl
of Essex, and despatched to sea, with orders to look into the King of
Spain's harbours. It was driven back by bad weather, but discovered
enough to show that Philip's threats were not serious. Although the
year was far advanced, it was decided to make another attempt to get
possession of the Spanish plate-ships by one of the usual voyages to
the "Isles." The greater part of the soldiers, recruited earlier in
the year, were disbanded. A thousand seasoned men belonging to the
old Low Country regiments were retained, and the squadron sailed a
second time. It touched the Spanish coast near Ferrol, in the hope
of drawing out the King of Spain's ships to action. But they did not
stir. Essex then continued his voyage to the Azores, but the whole
campaign was a failure. The ships separated; they either did not sight
the Spaniards at all, or if they did, were unable to catch them. Ill
luck was as usual pleaded as an excuse, but the true explanation of
the failure of the expedition is to be sought elsewhere. Sir Walter
Raleigh accompanied the expedition. He had taken to adventure at sea
ever since he had deeply offended the queen's vanity, which expected
all her courtiers to fall in love with herself alone, and had more
reasonably offended her dignity by seducing her maid of honour, Miss
Throgmorton. But he did not renounce the hope of regaining her favour,
and was bitterly angered at finding himself supplanted in the queen's
good graces by the Earl of Essex. Essex, for his part, had no love for
Raleigh, and had already accused him of spoiling the full success of
the Cadiz voyage for his own ends. Consciously or unconsciously, the
two men were engaged in counteracting one another throughout the whole
cruise. In such circumstances nothing effectual was likely to be done.
The squadron finally returned without prizes. During its absence, a
Spanish squadron had sailed against England, but had been driven back
by storms from the neighbourhood of the Scilly Isles.
After 1597 the war began to die down. In 1598 the Royal Navy was idle,
and in 1599 it did little beyond show how rapidly a squadron could be
fitted for sea by the Navy Office when the queen called upon it to
exert itself. A squadron of twenty vessels was "rigged, victualled,
and furnished to sea in twelve days." Sir William Monson records
that the feat excited the surprise and admiration of foreigners. In
1600, again, nothing was done. Spain and England were, in fact, both
becoming exhausted. War had put a stop to what was then our most
lucrative branch of commerce, and it had been found by experience that
privateering did not compensate for the want of peaceful industry.
Negotiations for peace were begun, and continued throughout the years
1599 and 1600. In the latter year three ships were sent to the Isles
under the command of Sir Richard Levison, but the King of Spain took
care to provide the _flota_ with a powerful escort, and Sir Richard
returned home without so much as a single prize. The negotiations for
peace ended for the time in failure, but the naval war did not revive
with any energy. In 1601 a Spanish squadron landed three thousand five
hundred soldiers in Ireland for the purpose of co-operating with the
Earl of Tyrone, who was then in full rebellion against Queen Elizabeth.
This invasion of her dominions roused the queen to fresh exertions.
She despatched a squadron under the command of Sir Richard Levison
to the coast of Ireland, to prevent the Spaniards from reinforcing
the detachment they had already landed. He had with him only five
ships, but they proved sufficient for the work. The Spanish fleet had
returned home after disembarking Don Juan del Aguila with his three
thousand five hundred men, but a squadron which had followed with a
reinforcement of seven hundred men was attacked in Kinsale harbour with
success; and although the failure of the Spanish invasion was mainly
due to the want of co-operation on the part of Tyrone, and the energy
of the Lord Deputy Mountjoy, the navy rendered material assistance by
cutting the communications with Spain.
The exhaustion of both parties now began to be shown by the small
scale of the armaments on either side. The three thousand five hundred
soldiers of Don Juan del Aguila, and the fleet that carried them to
Ireland, were a great fall from the standard of the Spanish expeditions
of earlier years. The squadron Queen Elizabeth sent in revenge to the
coast of Spain was trifling. It consisted only of nine vessels under
the command of Sir Richard Levison as admiral, with Sir William Monson
as his second in command. Sir William in his _Naval Tracts_, which are
the best authority for the history of the navy in Elizabeth's reign,
has given a very prominent place to the cruise of this year, and in
particular to his own very remarkable display of courage, energy,
and sagacity. Sir William was no doubt an excellent officer, and the
capture or destruction of the Portuguese carracks in the roadstead of
Zizembre was a creditable bit of service, but it is hardly entitled to
be told at length in a general history of the navy. In the following
year the same two officers commanded the squadron in the Narrow Seas,
but the war was over. Queen Elizabeth herself died in this year, and
was succeeded by the peace-loving James I. Philip II. had been dead for
four years, and his successor was a feeble prince, under whom the power
of Spain went rapidly to decay. In France, Henry IV. had established
his right to the throne at the point of the sword. Everywhere, except
in Holland, which would not make peace unless its independence was
secured, and except in the minds of the men of the stamp of Sir Walter
Raleigh, to whom war was a source of income, there was a longing for
the end of hostilities. The great Elizabethan epoch was over, and when
England was next to be engaged in serious warfare at sea, it was with a
very different enemy, and in quite another cause.
In telling the naval history of the great queen's reign from the Armada
year forward, I have thought it better to leave aside the action of
the adventurers except where they are found combined with those of the
Royal Navy. But from 1588 to the end of the century these champions
of our power on the sea were numerous, and in some cases brilliantly
successful. There were, indeed, far more of them than are recorded.
In the general suspension of trade, privateering voyages became a
very important resource of merchants and seafaring men. Commerce with
Spain did not indeed altogether come to an end. Although we did not,
like the Dutch, keep up an open trade with the enemy, English merchant
ships were not infrequently to be found in Spanish ports both in
Europe and in the islands of the Atlantic. The West Indian harbours
were indeed jealously closed to foreigners. But English merchant ships
which adopted the simple precaution of flying the Scotch flag seem to
have found little difficulty in trading with the Spaniards. Yet this
resource had its dangers, and the temptations to seek a profit by
pillaging the Spaniard were very great. Thus there were always swarms
of now forgotten English privateers at sea. Sir William Monson assures
us that the great majority of these adventures proved disastrous, or at
least barren, and we can well believe it. Small privateers, measuring
often no more than forty or fifty tons, were incapable of attacking not
only the large and well-protected Spanish _flotas_, but even of dealing
with a single fairly-armed galleon. They had not only their want of
material strength against them, but also their want of discipline,
and the fact that they were frequently fitted out by owners who were
too poor to equip them properly. Their crews were largely composed
of men who fled to them to escape the stricter discipline, and more
limited opportunities of plunder afforded by the queen's ships. Such
vessels, so equipped and so manned, would, in the ordinary course,
come frequently to grief, and it is not likely that Sir William Monson
was exaggerating when he said that a large proportion of them either
perished unheard of at sea, or returned without so much as seeing a
Spaniard.
Among these obscure men there were, however, a few whose achievements
are memorable. Of these, by far the most brilliant was George
Clifford, third Earl of Cumberland. He has not in modern times had
that measure of reputation which is his due. In truth, no man more
fully illustrated what was most brilliant in the adventures of the
Elizabethan epoch. Of some of the others--Drake, Hawkins, or Raleigh,
for instance--we may doubt whether the hope of gain was not their main
inducement. But the earl was a great noble, who did not indeed deny
that he hoped to take prizes from the Spaniards, and make his profit
by them, but who certainly was mainly influenced by a chivalrous love
of adventure, and the feeling that it became a man of his rank to set
an example. Certainly, his ten voyages undertaken between 1586 and
1597 will compare with the deeds of any of the seamen of his time.
It is true that he did not sail in all the expeditions fitted out
at his expense, but he did in many of them. Three are particularly
interesting. In 1592 the earl's ships were at the taking of the great
carrack _Madre de Dios_, which fell into the hands of a squadron
of English privateers belonging, some to Cumberland, some to the
Hawkins family, and some to Sir Walter Raleigh. It was a misfortune
of the adventurers that one of the queen's ships was present at the
capture. It was a very small vessel, and had very little share in the
merits of the enterprise. In fact, but for the strenuous exertions
of the privateers, she would have been carried off by the carrack.
Her captain, Sir Robert Cross, ran the big Portuguese on board, who
thereupon "lashed his ship fast by the shrouds and sailed away with
her by her side." Hereupon Captain Norton, Cumberland's commander,
boarded the carrack to save the queen's ship, and, being well supported
by the others, carried her after a prolonged struggle. The _Madre de
Dios_ was brought to England, and her capture proved a fruitful event.
She had come from the Portuguese possessions in the East Indies, and
carried a cargo of "spices, drugs, silks, calicoes, quilts, carpets,
and colours." The sight of it is said to have stimulated strongly the
desire of the merchants of London to share in the trade of the East,
and to have had a direct influence in the formation of the East India
Company. The earl's profit was not in proportion to his hopes; for the
queen, taking advantage of the fact that one of the least of her ships
had had the smallest possible share in the capture, contrived, by a
very characteristic mixture of force and fraud, to secure the lion's
share for herself. She indeed was robbed by her own agents, but she
forced Cumberland to put up with £36,000 as a free gift from her, in
place of the greater sum he had expected to receive. The eighth voyage,
which took place in 1594, was marked by two actions of extraordinary
ferocity with Portuguese carracks. One, the _Cinco Chagas_, was burnt
in action, after a scene of great horror. Another beat off the attack
of the privateers. But the most memorable of the earl's enterprises,
and indeed the most brilliant achievement of any subject in the queen's
reign, was the earl's voyage to the West Indies in 1597, the year in
which Essex and Raleigh were wrangling and failing at the Azores. His
experience in 1592 had shown Cumberland the disadvantage of sailing
with the queen's ships. Elizabeth was known to be very tender of her
vessels, so that whoever sailed with them had to be in continual
anxiety lest they should come to grief, while the queen was most apt
to take advantage of their presence to deprive her partners of a fair
share of the booty. The unsuccessful attack on the carracks in 1594
had also shown Cumberland the need for large vessels of considerable
strength. He therefore built one for himself at Deptford. She was of
800 tons, at that time the burden of a ship of the first rank, and was
named by the queen, who christened her at the launching the =Scourge
of Malice=. In 1597 the earl raised a force of eighteen sail, and took
the command in person. He sailed on the 6th of March, intending, if
possible, to capture the Portuguese East India ships on their way out,
but, failing that, to proceed to the West Indies, and there capture
some island or town "that would yield him wealth and riches, being the
chief end of his undertaking." The first part of his plan failed. After
cruising for a time on the coast of Portugal to very little purpose, he
sailed to the Canaries. Here, also, no booty was to be found, and the
earl then told his men that he intended to go on to the West Indies,
hoping to make profit, "by first the sacking of Margarita, which they
knew was rich, then Puerto Rico, after that, San Domingo, then in July
the outward-bound fleet would be in the Acoa, where we could not miss
them, and if these gave us not content, in the end of July or August we
should meet the fleet at Cape St. Antonio."
The earl did not seriously intend to attempt the execution of all
parts of this extensive plan. In the fragment of a history of the
voyage written by himself he confesses very candidly that he spoke
"more to carry the men with good liking thither, than for any thought
he had of them himself." But at that time it was never necessary to
spend much pains in persuading Englishmen to sail to the West Indies.
Cumberland's crews entered with "greedy desire and hopeful expectation"
into his schemes. He therefore stretched over from Lanzarote, one of
the Canaries, to Dominica in the Leeward Isles, where he cast anchor
on the 23rd of May. A week was spent in recruiting the health of
his men. The English traded with the Caribs, and bathed in the hot
springs. They found the Caribs friendly, and the tropical luxuriance
of the vegetation filled at least the more educated of them with
delight. Cumberland would have wished to make use of the time for
the purpose of drilling his men, who were still very raw. But the
hillsides of Dominica are so steep, and the tropical forests were
then so dense, that no convenient drill ground could be discovered.
After a week's rest they went on, refreshed by food and hot baths, and
reached the Virgin Islands in the course of three days of sailing to
the north-west. Here at last Cumberland was able to set about turning
the men he had collected into something approaching soldiers. A large
proportion of them had no doubt served before, but as yet there were
many who had no practice, and the whole body was still undivided into
companies. What little could be done in the course of a few days was
done, and the earl took occasion to make his men a speech. The burden
of it was that the play was over, and the work going to begin. Hitherto
he had borne with the many "gross faults committed among you, suffering
every man to do what he would, and urging no man further than he
listed." For this leniency the earl had several reasons, but now all
were to understand that discipline must be maintained, and that no
man should be allowed to infringe it. Having delivered this harangue
"standing under a great cliff of a rock, his prospect to the seaward,
stepped upon one of the greater stones, which, added to his natural
stature, gave him a pretty height above the other company," Cumberland
sent his men back to their ships, and prepared to carry out his attack
on Puerto Rico. His social rank and his power to pay wages out of his
ample revenue combined to give him a "pretty height above the other
company," and he was able to introduce a degree of good order among
his followers, which few plebeian adventurers could have attained.
Therefore his capture of San Juan de Puerto Rico was a fine orderly
operation of war, conducted with no less humanity than gallantry.
The island of Puerto Rico lies directly to the west of the Virgin
Islands. The town of San Juan is on the northern side, about thirty
miles to the west of the headland of San Juan, which is the easterly
limit of the land. The coast runs almost due east and west. The town
stands upon a little island of some two and a half miles long by a
quarter wide, which itself lies parallel to the coast. At the eastern
extremity of this little island it is connected with the mainland of
Puerto Rico by a spit on which a bridge has now been built. At the
south-east corner, the space between the lesser and the greater island
is very trifling, and at this point there is a ferry. The town of San
Juan de Puerto Rico lies at the western end of the little island, some
slight distance away from the spit and the ferry. The small island is
very rocky, particularly towards the sea front. The place is naturally
strong, and only three years before had beaten off an attack by Drake.
But at that time it was occupied by a strong detachment of soldiers
sent to protect the treasure. At the time of the Earl of Cumberland's
attack, it was left to its own resources, which, however, were not
contemptible.
Standing over from the Virgin Islands, the earl sailed past the
precipitous northern coast of Puerto Rico, till he came to the
place where the hills turn inland, and the coast begins to afford
landing-places. Here he sent forward two pinnaces under the command
of one Captain Knotsford, an old seaman trained in Hawkins's service,
with orders to choose a landing-place. Knotsford, being apparently
in fear lest he should be carried to leeward of San Juan, lay-to too
soon, and waited for the earl, who joined him by night. The choice of
a landing-place was thus thrown upon Cumberland himself. He pitched on
one, which seamen who had been there with Sir Francis Drake declared
to be unmanageable, because the surf was at all times beating on the
beach. They had probably judged too hastily from a single experience.
The earl found the sea calm, and landed his men without the least
difficulty. They were in number "not so few as a thousand." A day's
march "through most unpassable rocks and cliffs" brought them to
within sight of the island of San Juan at the east end. Their march
had been observed by a handful of Spanish horsemen, who did not offer
any effectual resistance, and who disappeared into the forest as the
English approached the end of St. Juan.
When they saw the place they had come to attack in front of them, the
earl and his companions learned for the first time that they could not
get across without boats, and, as the Spaniards had a fort at that
point, there would have been great danger in attempting the use of that
method. It seemed then, as the earl's chaplain puts it, that "we were
at a flat bay; even at our wits' end." Cumberland, however, was not
so soon at the end of his wits as the chaplain. He argued very justly
that the Spanish horsemen whom they had just seen ride off into the
woods must have some means of getting into the island, and he fairly
concluded that where the Spaniards could cross, so could the English.
The difficulty was to find the passage. On their march, Cumberland's
soldiers had captured a negro, by whom they had been guided so far. The
man spoke little Spanish, or, as we can well believe, English either,
and was moreover in extreme terror between the probability that the
English would kill him if he refused to guide them, and the prospect
that the Spaniards would hang him for acting as guide. At last he was
made to understand that the English were in search of some ford at
which they could walk into the island. He led them to a point where
there was a causeway, probably that where the bridge now stands. It was
now late, and the whole force was very tired, so Cumberland gave his
men a few hours' rest before making an attack. They all slept in their
armour on the bare ground, the earl among them with his target for a
pillow. Two hours before daybreak they were called quietly under arms,
and prepared to rush the causeway. The earl would have led himself,
but was persuaded to leave the command of the van to his lieutenant,
Sir John Berkeley. The attempted surprise was a failure, though well
planned and gallantly executed. The Spaniards had a stockade at the end
of the causeway, and, being on the look-out, they opened a hot fire at
the English as they came on. Cumberland, though he had left the leading
of the storm to Berkeley, would not keep out of the fight, and his zeal
led him into danger in a fashion which, to us, is not without a certain
absurdity. As he was cheering his men on along the causeway in the
dark, his shield-bearer stumbled and fell against him. Cumberland was
thrown off his feet and pushed into the water, falling on his back, so
that, being encumbered by the weight of his armour, he could not get
up, and would infallibly have been drowned if two of his followers had
not fished him out after several unsuccessful dives. When rescued, it
was found that he had swallowed so much salt water as to be very sick.
He spent the rest of the action sitting in complete prostration by the
side of the causeway. When the first signs of daylight were visible,
the English were called off, and retired with the loss of some fifty
men.
It was obvious that there was no getting into the island by that entry,
and therefore the earl went back to the point at which he had first
touched St. Juan; and, bringing round one of his ships, battered down
the fort at the landing. His vessel was stranded and became a wreck,
but an entry was made into the island. A march of a mile through wood
and rocky ground brought the invaders to the town, which is described,
probably with great exaggeration, as being of the same circuit as
Oxford. It had been deserted by all except the women, children, and old
men. The men capable of bearing arms had shut themselves up in the fort
called the Morra, which it was necessary to reduce by a regular siege.
As very frequently happened in the ventures of that time, there was
more honour than material profit made at San Juan de Puerto Rico; but
in this case the leader aimed chiefly at honour, or at least something
altogether beyond the mere ransom. It was Cumberland's intention to
retain possession of San Juan de Puerto Rico for the Crown of England,
and he actually remained there far longer than was wise, if he had
considered only his immediate interests. His intention to antedate
the establishment of the English in the West Indies by more than half
a century was altogether premature. His force, already weakened by
sickness and inaction, was not strong enough for the undertaking. After
losing nearly four hundred men by fevers, the earl took to his ships
and returned to England.
I have told the history of the Earl of Cumberland's capture of San
Juan de Puerto Rico at what may appear undue length if it is judged
by the intrinsic importance of the feat; but it stands here as the
representative of a score of others which could not be told without
swelling this book to irrational proportions. The naval war of
Elizabeth's reign was, above all, a war of adventurers. Cumberland was
only the richest, the best born, and, it is not unjust to add, the most
high-minded, of a large class which included Cavendish, Grenville,
Preston, Sommers, Dudley, Shirley, Lancaster, and a score of others
whose names meet us here and there as commanding ships in fights and
captures, but who came out of and returned to obscurity. The regular
naval war did not differ materially from the enterprises of these
sea-rovers. The capture of Cadiz was only the taking of San Juan de
Puerto Rico on a great scale, and the cruises to the Isles were very
much like the earl's cruises to the Canaries. It is this adventurous
quality, the touch of romance and knight-errantry, which gives its
peculiar charm to the Elizabethan time. There is a youthfulness about
the epoch which is lost by the next generation. England was "mewing
her mighty youth," springing from a small power to a great, and from
a little trading nation to one whose sails were on every sea. When
Elizabeth ascended the throne, the English flag had only once or
twice gone farther than to Archangel in the north and Scanderoon in
the Levant. Before her death, ships bearing her flag and manned by
her subjects had "prowled with hostile keel" in all the seas of the
world; and her merchants were preparing to open a permanent trade with
the East Indies, while English colonists had established a footing on
the continent of North America. In this great work the Royal Navy was
not the only instrument. It is seldom that we find it acting alone,
and never when a great display of power was required. Yet the Royal
Navy was the steel of the lance, the model of discipline and warlike
efficiency. The city of London, or so great a subject as the Earl of
Cumberland, might show a few ships not inferior to the queen's, but
that was quite the exception. The Royal Navy was already as distinctly
marked from the other shipping of the country as it was in later
generations.