CHAPTER XV.

THE HISTORY OF SHIPS AND SHIPPING INTERESTS.

The First Attempts to Float—Hollowed Logs and Rafts—The Ark and

its Dimensions—Skin Floats and Basket-boats—Maritime Commerce of

Antiquity—Phœnician Enterprise—Did they Round the Cape?—The Ships

of Tyre—Carthage—Hanno’s Voyage to the West Coast of

Africa—Egyptian Galleys—The Great Ships of the Ptolemies—Hiero’s

Floating Palace—The Romans—Their Repugnance to Seafaring

Pursuits—Sea Battles with the Carthaginians—Cicero’s Opinions on

Commerce—Constantinople and its Commerce—Venice—Britain—The First

Invasion under Julius Cæsar—Benefits Accruing—The Danish

Pirates—The London of the Period—The Father of the British

Navy—Alfred and his Victories—Canute’s Fleet—The Norman

Invasion—The Crusades—Richard Cœur de Lion’s Fleet—The Cinque

Ports and their Privileges—Foundation of a Maritime Code—Letters

of Marque—Opening of the Coal Trade—Chaucer’s Description of the

Sailors of his Time—A Glorious Period—The Victories at

Harfleur—Henry V.’s Fleet of 1,500 Vessels—The Channel

Marauders—The King-Maker Pirate—Sir Andrew Wood’s Victory—Action

with Scotch Pirates—The _Great Michael_ and the _Great

Harry_—Queen Elizabeth’s Astuteness—The Nation never so well

Provided—“The Most Fortunate and Invincible Armada”—Its Size and

Strength—Elizabeth’s Appeal to the Country—A Noble

Response—Effingham’s Appointment—The Armada’s First

Disaster—Refitted, and Resails from Corunna—Chased in the Rear—A

Series of _Contretemps_—English Volunteer Ships in Numbers—The

Fire-ships at Calais—The Final Action—Flight of the Armada—Fate of

Shipwrecked Spanish in Ireland—Total Loss to Spain—Rejoicings and

Thanksgivings in England.

It will not now be out of place to take a rapid survey of the progress of

naval architecture, from log and coracle to wooden walls and ironclads,

noting rapidly the progressive steps which led to the present epoch.

It is only from the Scriptures, and from fragmentary allusions in the

writings of profane historians and poets, that we can derive any knowledge

of the vessels employed by the ancients. Doubtless our first parents

noticed branches of trees or fragments of wood floating upon the surface

of that “river” which “went out of Eden to water the garden;” and from

this to the use of logs singly, or combined in rafts, or hollowed into

canoes, would be an easy transition. The first boat was probably a mere

toy model; and, likely enough, great was the surprise when it was

discovered that its sides, though thin, would support a considerable

weight in the water. The first specimen of naval architecture of which we

have any description is unquestionably the ark, built by Noah. If the

cubit be taken as eighteen inches, she was 450 feet long, 75 in breadth,

and 45 in depth, whilst her tonnage, according to the present system of

admeasurement, would be about 15,000 tons. It is more than probable that

this huge vessel was, after all, little more than a raft, or barge, with a

stupenduous house reared over it, for it was constructed merely for the

purpose of floating, and needed no means of propulsion. She may have been,

comparatively speaking, slightly built in her lofty upper works, her

carrying capacity being thereby largely increased. Soon after the Flood,

if not, indeed, before it, other means of flotation must have suggested

themselves, such as the inflated skins of animals; these may be seen on

the ancient monuments of Assyria, discovered by Layard, where there are

many representations of people crossing rivers by this means. Next came

wicker-work baskets of rushes or reeds, smeared with mud or pitch, similar

to the ark in which Moses was found. Mr. Layard found such boats in use on

the Tigris; they were constructed of twisted reeds made water-tight by

bitumen, and were often large enough for four or five persons. Pliny says,

in his time, “_Even now_ in British waters, vessels of vine-twigs sewn

round with leather are used.” The words in italics might be used were

Pliny writing to-day. Basket-work coracles, covered with leather or

prepared flannel, are still found in a few parts of Wales, where they are

used for fording streams, or for fishing. Wooden canoes or boats, whether

hollowed from one log or constructed of many parts, came next. The

paintings and sculptures of Upper and Lower Egypt show regularly formed

boats, made of sawn planks of timber, carrying a number of rowers, and

having sails. The Egyptians were averse to seafaring pursuits, having

extensive overland commerce with their neighbours.

The Phœnicians were, past all cavil, the most distinguished navigators of

the ancient world, their capital, Tyre, being for centuries the centre of

commerce, the “mart of nations.” Strange to say, this country, whose

inhabitants were the rulers of the sea in those times, was a mere strip of

land, whose average breadth never exceeded twelve miles, while its length

was only 225 miles from Aradus in the north to Joppa in the south. Forced

by the unproductiveness of the territory, and blessed with one or two

excellent harbours, and an abundant supply of wood from the mountains of

Lebanon, the Phœnicians soon possessed a numerous fleet, which not only

monopolised the trade of the Mediterranean, but navigated Solomon’s fleets

to the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean, establishing colonies wherever they

went. Herodotus states that a Phœnician fleet, which was fitted out by

Necho, King of Egypt, even circumnavigated Africa, and gives details which

seem to place it within the category of the very greatest voyages.

Starting from the Red Sea, they are stated to have passed Ophir, generally

supposed to mean part of the east coast of Africa, to have rounded the

continent, and, entering the Mediterranean by the Pillars of Hercules, our

old friends the Rocks of Gibraltar and Ceuta, to have reached Egypt in the

third year of their voyage. Solomon, too, dispatched a fleet of ships from

the Red Sea to fetch gold from Ophir. Diodorus gives at great length an

account of the fleet said to be built by this people for the great Queen

Semiramis, with which she invaded India. Semiramis was long believed by

many to be a mythical personage; but Sir Henry Rawlinson’s interpretations

of the Assyrian inscriptions have placed the existence of this queen

beyond all doubt. In the Assyrian hall of the British Museum are two

statues of the god Nebo, each of which bears a cuneiform inscription

saying that they were made for Queen Semiramis by a sculptor of Nineveh.

The commerce of Phœnicia must have been at its height when Nebuchadnezzar

made his attack on Tyre. Ezekiel gives a description of her power about

the year B.C. 588, when ruin was hovering around her. “Tyre,” says the

prophet, “was a merchant of the people for many isles.” He states that her

ship-boards were made of fir-trees of Senir; her masts of cedars from

Lebanon; her oars of the oaks of Bashan; and the benches of her galleys of

ivory, brought out of the isles of Chittim.

To the Tyrians also is due the colonisation of other countries, which,

following the example of the mother-country, soon rivalled her in wealth

and enterprise. The principal of these was Carthage, which in its turn

founded colonies of her own, one of the first of which was Gades (Cadiz).

From that port Hanno made his celebrated voyage to the west coast of

Africa, starting with sixty ships or galleys, of fifty oars each. He is

said to have founded six trading-posts or colonies. About the same time

Hamilco went on a voyage of discovery to the north-western shores of

Europe, where, according to a poem of Festus Avienus,(128) he formed

settlements in Britain and Ireland, and found tin and lead, and people who

used boats of skin or leather. Aristotle tells us that the Carthaginians

were the first to increase the size of their galleys from three to four

banks of oars.

Under the dynasty of the Ptolemies the maritime commerce of Egypt rapidly

improved. The first of these kings caused the erection of the celebrated

Pharos or lighthouse at Alexandria, in the upper storey of which were

windows looking seaward, and inside which fires were lighted by night to

guide mariners to the harbour. Upon its front was inscribed, “King Ptolemy

to God the Saviour, for the benefit of sailors.” His successor, Ptolemy

Philadelphus, attempted to cut a canal a hundred cubits in width between

Arsinoe, on the Red Sea, not far from Suez, to the eastern branch of the

Nile. Enormous vessels were constructed at this time and during the

succeeding reigns. Ptolemy, the son of Lagos, is said to have owned five

hundred galleys and two thousand smaller vessels. Lucian speaks of a

vessel that he saw in Egypt that was one hundred and twenty cubits long.

Another, constructed by Ptolemy Philopator, is described by Calixenus, an

Alexandrian historian, as two hundred and eighty cubits, say 420 feet, in

length. She is said to have had four rudders, two heads, and two sterns,

and to have been manned by 4,000 sailors (meaning principally oarsmen) and

3,000 fighting-men. Calixenus also describes another built during the

dynasty of the Ptolemies, called the _Thalamegus_, or “carrier of the

bed-chamber.” This leviathan was 300 feet in length, and fitted up with

every conceivable kind of luxury and magnificence—with colonnades, marble

staircases, and gardens; from all which it is easy to infer that she was

not intended for sea-going purposes, but was probably an immense barge,

forming a kind of summer palace, moored on the Nile. Plutarch in speaking

of her says that she was a mere matter of curiosity, for she differed very

little from an immovable building, and was calculated mainly for show, as

she could not be put in motion without great difficulty and danger.

But the most prodigious vessel on the records of the ancients was built by

order of Hiero, the second Tyrant of Syracuse, under the superintendence

of Archimedes, about 230 years before Christ, the description of which

would fill a small volume. Athenæus has left a description of this vast

floating fabric. There was, he states, as much timber employed in her as

would have served for the construction of fifty galleys. It had all the

varieties of apartments and conveniences necessary to a palace—such as

banqueting-rooms, baths, a library, a temple of Venus, gardens,

fish-ponds, mills, and a spacious gymnasium. The inlaying of the floors of

the middle apartment represented in various colours the stories of Homer’s

“Iliad;” there were everywhere the most beautiful paintings, and every

embellishment and ornament that art could furnish were bestowed on the

ceilings, windows, and every part. The inside of the temple was inlaid

with cypress-wood, the statues were of ivory, and the floor was studded

with precious stones. This vessel had twenty benches of oars, and was

encompassed by an iron rampart or battery; it had also eight towers with

walls and bulwarks, which were furnished with machines of war, one of

which was capable of throwing a stone of 300 pounds weight, or a dart of

twelve cubits long, to the distance of half a mile. To launch her,

Archimedes invented a screw of great power. She had four wooden and eight

iron anchors; her mainmast, composed of a single tree, was procured after

much trouble from distant inland mountains. Hiero finding that he had no

harbours in Sicily capable of containing her, and learning that there was

famine in Egypt, sent her loaded with corn to Alexandria. She bore an

inscription of which the following is part:—“Hiero, the son of Hierocles,

the Dorian, who wields the sceptre of Sicily, sends this vessel bearing in

her the fruits of the earth. Do thou, O Neptune, preserve in safety this

ship over the blue waves.”

[Illustration: FLEET OF ROMAN GALLEYS.]

Among the Grecian states Corinth stood high in naval matters. Her people

were expert ship-builders, and claimed the invention of the trireme, or

galley with three tiers of oars. Athens, with its three ports, also

carried on for a long period a large trade with Egypt, Palestine, and the

countries bordering the Black Sea. The Romans had little inclination at

first for seamanship, but were forced into it by their rivals of Carthage.

It was as late as B.C. 261 before they determined to build a war-fleet,

and had not a Carthaginian galley, grounded on the coast of Italy, been

seized by them, they would not have understood the proper construction of

one. Previously they had nothing much above large boats rudely built of

planks. The noble Romans affected to despise commerce at this period, and

trusted to the Greek and other traders to supply their wants. Quintus

Claudius introduced a law, which passed, that no senator or father of one

should own a vessel of a greater capacity than just sufficient to carry

the produce of their own lands to market. Hear the enlightened Cicero on

the subject of commerce. He observes that, “_Trade is mean if it has only

a small profit for its object_; but it is otherwise if it has large

dealings, bringing many sorts of merchandise from foreign parts, and

distributing them to the public without deceit; and if after a reasonable

profit such merchants are contented with the riches they have acquired,

and purchasing land with them retire into the country, and apply

themselves to agriculture, I cannot perceive wherein is the dishonour of

that function.” Mariners were not esteemed by the Romans until after the

great battle of Actium, which threw the monopoly of the lucrative Indian

trade into their hands. Claudius, A.D. 41, deepened the Tiber, and built

the port of Ostia; and about fifty years later Trajan constructed the

ports of Civita Vecchia and Ancona, where commerce flourished. The Roman

fleets were often a source of trouble to them. Carausius, who was really a

Dutch soldier of fortune, about the year 280, seized upon the fleet he

commanded, and crossed from Gessoriacum (Boulogne) to Britain, where he

proclaimed himself emperor. He held the reins of government for seven

years, and was at length murdered by his lieutenant. He was really the

first to create a British manned fleet. In the reign of Diocletian, the

Veneti, on the coast of Gaul, threw off the Roman yoke, and claimed

tribute from all who appeared in their seas. The same emperor founded

Constantinople, erected later, under Constantine, into the seat of

government. This city seemed to be destined by nature as a great

commercial centre; caravans placed it in direct communication with the

East, and it was really the entrepôt of the world till its capture by the

Venetians, in 1204. That independent republic had been then in a

flourishing condition for over two hundred years, and for more than as

many after, its people were the greatest traders of the world. It was at

Venice in 1202 that some of the leading pilgrims assembled to negotiate

for a fleet to be used in the fourth crusade. The crusaders agreed to pay

the Venetians before sailing eighty-four thousand marks of silver, and to

share with them all the booty taken by land or sea. The republic undertook

to supply flat-bottomed vessels enough to convey four thousand five

hundred knights, and twenty thousand soldiers, provisions for nine months,

and a fleet of galleys.

“Surrounded by the silver streak,” our hardy forefathers often crossed to

Ireland and France, prior to the first invasion of Britain by Julius

Cæsar, B.C. 55, when he sailed from Boulogne with eighty vessels and 8,000

men, and with eighteen transports to carry 800 horses for the cavalry. In

the second invasion he employed a fleet of 600 boats and twenty-five

war-galleys, having with him five legions of infantry and 2,000 cavalry, a

formidable army for the poor islanders to contend against. But their

intercourse with the Romans speedily brought about commercial relations of

importance. The pearl fisheries were then most profitable, while the

“native” oyster was greatly esteemed by the Roman epicures, of whom

Juvenal speaks in his fourth satire. He says they

“Could at one bite the oyster’s taste decide,

And say if at Circean rocks, or in

The Lucrine Lake, or on the coast of Richborough,

In Britain they were bred.”

British oysters were exported to Rome, as American oysters are now-a-days

to England. Martial also mentions another trade in one of his epigrams,

that of basket-making—

“Work of barbaric art, a basket, I

From painted Britain came; but the Roman city

Now calls the painted Briton’s art their own.”

The smaller description of boats, other than galleys, employed by the

Romans for transporting their troops and supplies, were the _kiulæ_,

called by the Saxons _ceol_ or _ciol_, which name has come down to us in

the form of _keel_, and is still applied to a description of barge used in

the north of England. Thus

“Weel may the keel row,”

says the song, and on the “coaly Tyne,” a small barge carrying twenty-one

tons four hundredweight is said to carry a “keel” of coals. The Romans

must also have possessed large transport vessels, for within seventy or

eighty years after they had gained a secure footing in this country, they

received a reinforcement of 5,000 men in seventeen ships, or about 300

men, besides stores, to each vessel.

Bede places the final departure of the Romans from Britain in A.D. 409, or

just before the siege of Rome by Attila. Our ancestors were now rather

worse off than before, for they were left a prey to the Vikings—those

bold, hardy, unscrupulous Scandinavian seamen of the north, who began to

make piratical visits for the sake of plunder to the coasts of Scotland

and England. They found their way to the Mediterranean, and were known and

feared in every port from Iceland to Constantinople. Their galleys were

propelled mainly by means of oars, but they had also small square sails to

get help from a stern wind, and as they often sailed straight across the

stormy northern seas, it is probable that they had made considerable

progress in the rigging and handling of their ships. A plank-built boat

was discovered a few years since in Denmark, which the antiquaries assign

to the fifth century. It is a row-boat, measuring seventy-seven feet from

stem to stern, and proportionately broad in the middle. The construction

shows that there was an abundance of material and skilled labour. It is

alike at bow and stern, and the thirty rowlocks are reversible, so as to

permit the boat to be navigated with either end forward. The vessel is

built of heavy planks overlapping each other from the gunwale to the keel,

and cut thick at the point of juncture, so that they may be mortised into

the cross-beams and gunwale, instead of being merely nailed. Very similar

boats, light, swift, and strong, are still used in the Shetlands and

Norway.

Little is known of the state of England from the departure of the Romans

to the eighth century. The doubtful and traditionary landing of Hengist

and Horsa with 1,500 men, “in three long ships,” is hardly worth

discussing here. The Venerable Bede, who wrote about A.D. 750, speaks of

London as “the mart of many nations, resorting to it by sea and land;” and

he continues that “King Ethelbert built the church of St. Paul in the city

of London, where he and his successors should have their episcopal see.”

But the history of this period generally is in a hopeless fog. Still we

know that London was now a thriving port. Cæsar, in his “Commentaries”

distinctly states that his reason for attempting the conquest of England

was on account of the vast supplies which his Gaulish enemies received

from us, in the way of trade. The exports were principally cattle, hides,

corn, dogs, and _slaves_, the latter an important item. Strabo observes

that “our internal parts at that time were on a level with the African

slave coasts.” “Britons never shall be slaves” could not therefore have

been said in those days. London, long prior to the invasion of England by

the Romans, was an existing city, and vessels paid dues at Billingsgate

long before the establishment of any custom-house. Pennant tells us, in

his famous work on London, “As early as 979, all the reign of Ethelred, a

small vessel was to pay _ad Bilynggesgate_ one halfpenny as a toll; a

greater, bearing sails, one penny; a keel or hulk (_ceol vel hulcus_),

fourpence; a ship laden with wood, one piece for toll; and a boat with

fish, one halfpenny; or a larger, one penny. We had even now trade with

France for its wines, for mention is made of ships from Rouen, who came

here and landed them, and freed them from toll—_i.e._, paid their duties.

What they amounted to I cannot learn.”

The Danes, having once a foot-hold, were never thoroughly expelled till

the Norman conquest, and as a maritime race excelled all the nations of

the north of Europe. They had two principal classes of vessels, the

_Drakers_ and _Holkers_, the former named from carrying a dragon on the

bows, and bearing the Danish flag of the raven. The holker was at first a

small boat, hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, but the word “hulk,”

evidently derived from it, was used afterwards for vessels of larger

dimensions. They had also another vessel called a _Snekkar_ (serpent),

strangely so named, for it was rather a short, stumpy kind of boat, not

unlike the Dutch galliots of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

Their piratical expeditions soon increased, and Wales and the island of

Anglesey were frequently pillaged by them, while in Ireland they possessed

the ports of Dublin, Waterford, and Cork, a Danish king reigning in the

two first cities. But a king was to arise who would change all this—Alfred

the Great and Good, the “Father of the British Navy.”

On the accession of Alfred the Great to the throne, he found England so

over-run by the Danes, that he had, as every school-boy knows, to conceal

himself with a few faithful followers in the forests. In his retirement he

busied himself in devising schemes for ridding his country of the pirate

marauders; and without much deliberation he saw that he must first have a

maritime force of his own, and meet the enemies of England on the sea,

which they considered their own especial element. He set himself busily to

study the models of the Danish ships, and, aided by his hardy followers,

stirred up a spirit of maritime ambition, which had not existed to any

great extent before. At the end of four years of unremitting labour in the

prosecution of his schemes, he possessed the nucleus of a fleet in six

galleys, which were double the length of any possessed by his adversaries,

and which carried sixty oars, and possessed ample space for the fighting

men on board. With this fleet he put to sea, taking the command in person,

and routed a marauding expedition of the Danes, then about to make a

descent on the coast. The force was larger than his own; but he succeeded

in capturing one and in driving off the rest. In the course of the next

year or two he captured or sunk eighteen of the enemy’s galleys, and they

found at last that they could not have it all their own way on the sea.

About this time the cares of government occupied necessarily much of his

time: his astute policy was to win over a number of the more friendly

Danes to his cause, by giving them grants of land, and obliging them in

return to assist in driving off aggressors. He was nearly the first native

of England who made any efforts to extend the study of geography.

According to the Saxon chronicler, Florence of Worcester, A.D. 897, he

consulted Ohther, a learned Norwegian, and other authorities, from whom he

obtained much information respecting the northern seas. Ohther had not

only coasted along the shores of Norway, but had rounded the North Cape—it

was a feat in those days, gentle reader, but now Cook’s tourists do it—and

had reached the bay in which Archangel is situated. The ancient geographer

gave Alfred vivid descriptions of the gigantic whales, and of the

innumerable seals he had observed, not forgetting the terrible mäelstrom,

the dangers of which he did not under-rate, and which it was generally

believed in those days was caused by a horribly vicious old sea-dragon,

who sucked the vessels under. He compared the natives to the Scythians of

old, and was rather severe on them, as they brewed no ale, the poor

drinking honey-mead in its stead, and the rich a liquor distilled from

goats’ milk. Alfred not merely sent vessels to the north on voyages of

discovery, but opened communication with the Mediterranean, his galleys

penetrating to the extreme east of the Levant, whereby he was enabled to

carry on a direct trade with India. William of Malmesbury mentions the

silks, shawls, incense, spices, and aromatic gums which Alfred received

from the Malabar coast in return for presents sent to the Nestorian

Christians. Alfred constantly and steadily encouraged the science of

navigation, and certainly earned the right of the proud title he has borne

since of “Father of the British Navy.”

[Illustration: APPROACH OF THE DANISH FLEET.]

Time passes and we come to Canute. On his accession to the throne as the

son of a Danish conqueror, he practically put an end to the incursions and

attacks of the northern pirates. The influence of his name was so great

that he found it unnecessary to maintain more than forty ships at sea, and

the number was subsequently reduced. So far from entertaining any fear of

revolt from the English, or of any raid on his shores, he made frequent

voyages to the Continent as well as to the north. He once proceeded as far

as Rome, where he met the Emperor Conrad. II., from whom he obtained for

all his subjects, whether merchants or pilgrims, complete exemption from

the heavy tolls usually exacted on their former visits to that city.

Canute was a cosmopolitan. By his conquest of Norway, not merely did he

represent the English whom he had subjugated, and who had become attached

to him, but the Danes, their constant and inveterate foes and rivals. He

thus united under one sovereignty the principal maritime nations of the

north.

And still the writer exerts the privilege conceded to all who wield the

pen, of passing quickly over the pages of history. “The stories,” says a

writer(129) who made maritime subjects a peculiar study, “as to the number

of vessels under the order of the Conqueror on his memorable expedition

are very conflicting. Some writers have asserted that the total number

amounted to no less than 3,000, of which six or seven hundred were of a

superior order, the remainder consisting of boats temporarily built, and

of the most fragile description. Others place the whole fleet at not more

than 800 vessels of all sizes, and this number is more likely to be

nearest the truth. There are now no means of ascertaining their size, but

their form may be conjectured from the representation of these vessels on

the rolls of the famous Bayeux tapestry. It is said that when William

meditated his descent on England he ordered ‘large ships’ to be

constructed for that purpose at his seaports, collecting, wherever these

could be found, smaller vessels or boats, to accompany them. But even the

largest must have been of little value, as the whole fleet were by his

orders burned and destroyed, as soon as he landed with his army, so as to

cut off all retreat, and to save the expense of their maintenance.” This

would indicate that the sailors had to fight ashore, and may possibly have

been intended to spur on his army to victory. Freeman states, in his

“History of the Norman Conquest,” that he finds the largest number of

ships in the Conqueror’s expedition, as compiled from the most reliable

authorities, was 3,000, but some accounts put it as low as 693. Most of

the ships were presents from the prelates or great barons. William

FitzOsborn gave 60, the Count de Mortaine, 120; the Bishop of Bayeux, 100;

and the finest of all, that in which William himself embarked, was

presented to him by his own duchess, Matilda, and named the _Mora_. Norman

writers of the time state that the vessels were not much to boast of, as

they were all collected between the beginning of January and the end of

August, 1066. Lindsay, who thoroughly investigated the subject, says that

“The Norman merchant vessels or transports were in length about three

times their breadth, and were sometimes propelled by oars, but generally

by sails; their galleys appear to have been of two sorts—the larger,

occasionally called galleons, carrying in some instances sixty men, well

armed with iron armour, besides their oars. The smaller galleys, which are

not specially described, doubtless resembled ships’ launches in size, but

of a form enabling them to be propelled at a considerable rate of speed.”

Boats covered with leather were even employed on the perilous Channel

voyage.

[Illustration: SHIPS OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. (_From the Bayeux

Tapestry._)]

The Conqueror soon added to the security of the country by the

establishment of the Cinque Ports, which, as their title denotes, were at

first five, but were afterwards increased in number so as to include the

following seaports:—Dover, Sandwich, Hythe, and Romsey, in Kent; and Rye,

Winchelsea, Hastings, and Seaford, in Sussex. On their first establishment

they were to provide fifty-two ships, with twenty-four men on each, for

fifteen days each year, in case of emergency. In return they had many

privileges, a part of which are enjoyed by them to-day. Their freemen were

styled barons; each of the ports returned two members of Parliament. An

officer was appointed over them, who was “Lord Warden of the Cinque

Ports,” and also Constable of Dover Castle.

“For more than a hundred years after the Conquest,” says the writer just

quoted, “England’s ships had rarely ventured beyond the Bay of Biscay on

the one hand, and the entrance to the Baltic on the other; and there is no

special record of long voyages by English ships until the time of the

Crusades; which, whatever they might have done for the cause of the Cross,

undoubtedly gave the first impetus to the shipping of the country. The

number of rich and powerful princes and nobles who embarked their fortunes

in these extraordinary expeditions offered the chance of lucrative

employment to any nation which could supply the requisite amount of

tonnage, and English shipowners very naturally made great exertions to

reap a share of the gains.” One of the first English noblemen who fitted

out an expedition to the Holy Land was the Earl of Essex; and twelve years

afterwards, Richard Cœur de Lion, on ascending the throne, made vast

levies on the people for the same object, joining Philip II. and other

princes for the purpose of raising the Cross above the Crescent. Towards

the close of 1189 two fleets had been collected, one at Dover, to convey

Richard and his followers (among whom were the Archbishop of Canterbury,

the Bishop of Salisbury, and the Lord Chief Justice of England) across the

Channel, and a second and still larger fleet at Dartmouth, composed of

numbers of vessels from Aquitaine, Brittany, Normandy, and Poitou, for the

conveyance of the great bulk of the Crusaders, to join Richard at

Marseilles, whither he had gone overland with the French king and his

other allies. The Dartmouth fleet, under the command of Richard de

Camville and Robert de Sabloil, set sail about the end of April, 1190. It

had a disastrous voyage, but at length reached Lisbon, where the Crusaders

behaved so badly, and committed so many outrages, that 700 were locked up.

After some delay, they sailed up the Mediterranean, reaching Marseilles,

where they had to stop some time to repair their unseaworthy ships, and

then followed the king to the Straits of Messina, where the fleets

combined. It was not till seven months later that the fleet got under

weigh for the Holy Land. It numbered 100 ships of larger kind, and

fourteen smaller vessels called “busses.” Each of the former carried,

besides her crew of fifteen sailors, forty soldiers, forty horses, and

provisions for a twelvemonth. Vinisauf, who makes the fleet much larger,

mentions that it proceeded in the following order:—three large ships

formed the van; the second line consisted of thirteen vessels, the lines

expanding to the seventh, which consisted of sixty vessels, and

immediately preceded the king and his ships. On their way they fell in

with a very large ship belonging to the Saracens, manned by 1,500 men, and

after a desperate engagement took her. Richard ordered that all but 200 of

those not killed in the action should be thrown overboard, and thus 1,300

infidels were sacrificed at one blow. Off Etna, Sicily, they experienced a

terrific gale, and the crew got “sea-sick and frightened;” and off the

island of Cyprus they were assailed by another storm, in which three ships

were lost, and the Vice-Chancellor of England was drowned, his body being

washed ashore with the Great Seal of England hanging round his neck.

Richard did not return to England till after the capture of Acre, and the

truce with Saladin; he landed at Sandwich, as nearly as may be, four years

from the date of his start. As this is neither a history of England, nor

of the Crusades, excepting only as either are connected with the sea, we

must pass on to a subject of some importance, which was the direct result

of experience gained at this period.

[Illustration: CRUSADERS AND SARACENS.]

The foundation of a maritime code, by an ordinance of Richard Cœur de

Lion, a most important step in the history of merchant shipping, was due

to the knowledge acquired by English pilgrims, traders, and seamen at the

time of the Crusades. The first code was founded on a similar set of rules

then existing in France, known as the _Rôles d’Oleron_, and some of the

articles show how loose had been the conditions of the sailor’s life

previously. The first article gave a master power to pledge the tackle of

a ship, if in want of provisions for the crew, but forbad the sale of the

hull without the owner’s permission. The captain’s position, as lord

paramount on board, was defined; no one, not even part-owners or

super-cargoes, must interfere; he was expected to understand thoroughly

the art of navigation. The second article declared that if a vessel was

held in port through failure of wind or stress of weather, the ship’s

company should be guided as to the best course to adopt by the opinion of

the majority. Two succeeding articles related to wrecks and salvage. The

fifth article provided that no sailor in port should leave the vessel

without the master’s consent; if he did so, and any harm resulted to the

ship or cargo, he should be punished with a year’s imprisonment, on bread

and water. He might also be flogged. If he deserted altogether and was

retaken, he might be branded on the face with a red-hot iron, although

allowance was made for such as ran away from their ships through

ill-usage. Sailors could also be compensated for unjust discharge without

cause. Succeeding clauses refer to the moral conduct of the sailor,

forbidding drunkenness, fighting, &c. Article 12 provided that if any

mariner should give the lie to another at a table where there was wine and

bread, he should be fined four _deniers_; and the master himself offending

in the same way should be liable to a double fine. If any sailor should

impudently contradict the mate, he might be fined eight _deniers_; and if

the master struck him with his fist or open hand he was required to bear

the stroke, but if struck more than once he was entitled to defend

himself. If the sailor committed the first assault he was to be fined 100

_sous_, or else his hand was to be chopped off. The master was required by

another rule not to give his crew cause for mutiny, nor call them names,

nor wrong them, nor “keep anything from them that is theirs, but to use

them well, and pay them honestly what is their due.” Another clause

provided that the sailor might always have the option of going on shares

or wages, and the master was to put the matter fairly before them. The

17th clause related to food. The hardy sailors of Brittany were to have

only one meal a day from the kitchen, while the lucky ones of Normandy

were to have two. When the ship arrived at a wine country the master was

bound to provide the crew with wine. Sailors were elsewhere forbidden to

take “royal” fish, such as the sturgeon, salmon, turbot, and sea-barbel,

or to take on their own account fish which yield oil. These are a part

only of the clauses; many others referring to matters connected with

rigging, masts, anchorages, pilotage, and other technical points. In bad

pilotage the navigator who brought mishap on the ship was liable to lose

his head. The general tenor of the first code is excellent, and the rules

were laid down with an evident spirit of fairness alike to the owner and

sailor.

The subject of “Letters of Marque” might occupy an entire volume, and will

recur again in these pages; They were in reality nothing more than

privileges granted for purposes of retaliation-legalised piracy. They were

first issued by Edward I., and the very first related to an outrage

committed by Portuguese on an English subject. A merchant of Bayonne, at

the time a port belonging to England, in Gascony, had shipped a cargo of

fruit from Malaga, which, on its voyage along the coast of Portugal, was

seized and carried into Lisbon by an armed cruiser belonging to that

country, then at peace with England. The King of Portugal, who had

received one-tenth part of the cargo, declined to restore the ship or

lading, whereupon the owner and his heirs received a licence, to remain in

force five years, to seize the property of the Portuguese, and especially

that of the inhabitants of Lisbon, to the extent of the loss sustained,

the expenses of recovery being allowed. How far the merchant of Bayonne

recouped himself, history sayeth not.

A little later a most important mercantile trade came into existence—that

in coal. From archæological remains and discoveries it is certain that the

Romans excavated coal during their reign on this island; but it was not

till the reign of Edward III. that the first opening of the great

Newcastle coal-fields took place, although as early as 1253 there was a

lane at the back of Newgate called “Sea-coal Lane.” As in many other

instances, even in our own days, the value of the discovery seems to have

been more appreciated by foreigners than by the people of this country,

and for a considerable time after it had been found, the combustion of

coal was considered to be so unhealthy that a royal edict forbad its use

in the city of London, while the queen resided there, in case it might

prove “pernicious to her health.” At the same time, while England laid her

veto on the use of that very article which has since made her, or helped

to make her, the most famous commercial nation of the world, France sent

her ships laden with corn to Newcastle, carrying back coal in return, her

merchants being the first to supply this new great article of commerce to

foreign countries. In the reign of Henry V. the trade had become of such

importance that a special Act was passed providing for the admeasurement

of ships and barges employed in the coal trade.

King John stoutly claimed for England the sovereignty of the sea—he was

not always so firm and decided—and decreed that all foreign ships, the

masters of which should refuse to strike their colours to the British

flag, should be seized and deemed good and lawful prizes. This monarch is

stated to have fitted out no less than 500 ships, under the Earl of

Salisbury, in the year 1213, against a fleet of ships three times that

number, organised by Philip of France, for the invasion of England. After

a stubborn battle, the English were successful, taking 300 sail, and

driving more than 100 ashore, Philip being under the necessity of

destroying the remainder to prevent them falling into the hands of their

enemies. Some notion may be gained of the kinds of ships of which these

fleets were composed, by the account that is narrated of an action fought

in the following reign with the French, who, with eighty “stout ships,”

threatened the coast of Kent. This fleet being discovered by Hubert de

Burgh, governor of Dover Castle, he put to sea with half the number of

English vessels, and having got to the windward of the enemy, and run down

many of the smaller ships, he closed with the rest, and threw on board

them a quantity of quick-lime—a novel expedient in warfare—which so

blinded the crews that their vessels were either captured or sunk. The

dominion of the sea was bravely maintained by our Edwards and Henrys in

many glorious sea-fights. The temper of the times is strongly exemplified

by the following circumstance. In the reign of Edward I. an English sailor

was killed in a Norman port, in consequence of which war was declared by

England against France, and the two nations agreed to decide the dispute

on a certain day, with the whole of their respective naval forces. The

spot of battle was to be the middle of the Channel, marked out by

anchoring there an empty ship. This strange duel of nations actually took

place, for the two fleets met on April 14th, 1293, when the English

obtained the victory, and carried off in triumph 250 vessels from the

enemy. In an action off the harbour of Sluys with the French fleet, Edward

III. is said to have slain 30,000 of the enemy, and to have taken 200

large ships, “in one of which only, there were 400 dead bodies.” The same

monarch, at the siege of Calais, is stated to have blockaded that port

with 730 sail, having on board 14,956 mariners. The size of the vessels

employed must have been rapidly enlarging.

[Illustration: DUEL BETWEEN FRENCH AND ENGLISH SHIPS.]

Chaucer gives us a graphic description of the British sailor of the

fourteenth century in his Prologue to the “Canterbury Tales,” It runs as

follows:—

“A schipman was ther, wonyng fer by Weste:

For ought I woot, he was of Dertemouthe,

He rood upon a rouncy, as he couthe,

In a goun of faldying to the kne.

A dagger hangyng on a laas hadde he

Aboute his nekke under his arm adoun.

The hoote somer had maad his hew al broun;

And certainly he was a good felawe.

Ful many a draught of wyn had he drawe

From Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep.

Of nyce conscience took he no keep.

If that he foughte, and hadde the heigher hand,

By water he sent hem hoom to every land.

But of his craft to rikne wel the tydes,

His stremes and his dangers him bisides,

His herbergh and his mane his lode menage,

Ther was non such from Hulle to Cartage.

Hardy he was, and wys to undertake;

With many a tempest hadde his berd ben schake.

He knew well alle the havens, as thei were,

From Scotland to the Cape of Fynestere,

And every cryk in Bretayne and in Spayne,

His barge y-cleped was the _Magdelayne_.”

In the reign of Henry V., the most glorious period up to that time of the

British Navy, the French lost nearly all their navy to us at various

times; among other victories, Henry Page, Admiral of the Cinque Ports,

captured 120 merchantmen forming the Rochelle fleet, and all richly laden.

Towards the close of this reign, about the year 1416, England formally

claimed the dominion of the sea, and a Parliamentary document recorded the

fact. “It was never absolute,” says Sir Walter Raleigh, “until the time of

Henry VIII.” That great voyager and statesman adds that, “Whoever commands

the sea, commands the trade of the world; whosoever commands the trade,

commands the riches of the world, and consequently the world itself.”

A curious poem is included in the first volume of Hakluyt’s famous

collection of voyages, bearing reference to the navy of Henry. It is

entitled, “The English Policie, exhorting all England to keep the Sea,”

&c. It was written apparently about the year 1435. It is a long poem, and

the following is an extract merely:—

“And if I should conclude all by the King,

Henrie the Fift, what was his purposing,

Whan at Hampton he made the great _dromons_,

Which passed other great ships of the Commons;

The _Trinitie_, the _Grace de Dieu_, the _Holy Ghost_,

And other moe, which as nowe be lost.

What hope ye was the king’s great intente

Of thoo shippes, and what in mind be meant:

It is not ellis, but that _he cast to bee_

Lord round about environ of the see.

And if he had to this time lived here,

He had been Prince named withouten pere:

His great ships should have been put in preefes,

Unto the ende that he ment of in chiefes.

For doubt it not but that he would have bee

Lord and Master about the rand see:

And kept it sure, to stoppe our ennemies hence,

And wonne us good, and wisely brought it thence,

That our passage should be without danger,

And his license on see to move and sterre.”

When the king had determined, in 1415, to land an army in France, he hired

ships from Holland, Zeeland, and Friesland, his own naval means not being

sufficient for the transport; among his other preparations, “requisite for

so high an enterprise,” boats covered with leather, for the passage of

rivers, are mentioned. His fleet consisted of 1,000 sail, and it left

Southampton on Sunday, the 11th of August, of the above-mentioned year.

When the ships had passed the Isle of Wight, “swans were seen swimming in

the midst of the fleet, which was hailed as a happy auspice.” Henry

anchored on the following Tuesday at the mouth of the Seine, about three

miles from Harfleur. A council of the captains was summoned, and an order

issued that no one, under pain of death, should land before the king, but

that all should be in readiness to go ashore the next morning. This was

done, and the bulk of the army, stated to have comprised 24,000 archers,

and 6,000 men of arms, was landed in small vessels, boats, and skiffs,

taking up a position on the hill nearest to Harfleur. The moment Henry

landed he fell on his knees and implored the Divine aid and protection to

lead him on to victory, then conferring knighthood on many of his

followers. At the entrance of the port a chain had been stretched between

two large, well-armed towers, while it was farther protected by stakes and

trunks of trees to prevent the vessels from approaching. During the siege,

which lasted thirty-six days, the fleet blockaded the port, and at its

conclusion Henry, flushed with a victory, which is said to have cost the

English only 1,600 and the enemy 10,000 lives, determined to march his

army through France to Calais. It was on this march that he won the

glorious battle of Agincourt. On the 16th of November he embarked for

Dover, reaching that port the same day. Here a magnificent ovation awaited

him. The burgesses rushed into the sea and bore him ashore on their

shoulders; the whole population was intoxicated with delight. One

chronicler states that the passage across had been extremely boisterous,

and that the French noblemen suffered so much from sea-sickness that they

considered the trip worse than the very battles themselves in which they

had been taken prisoners! When Henry arrived near London, a great

concourse of people met him at Blackheath, and he, “as one remembering

from whom all victories are sent,” would not allow his helmet to be

carried before him, whereon the people might have seen the blows and dents

that he had received; “neither would he suffer any ditties to be made and

sung by minstrels of his glorious victory, for that he would have the

praise and thanks altogether given to God.”

[Illustration: REVERSE OF THE SEAL OF SANDWICH.]

Next year the French attempted to retake Harfleur. Henry sent a fleet of

400 sail to the rescue, under his brother John, Duke of Bedford, the

upshot being that almost the whole French fleet, to the number of 500

ships, hulks, carracks, and small vessels were taken or sunk. The English

vessels remained becalmed in the roadstead for three weeks afterwards.

Southey, who has collated all the best authorities in his admirable naval

work,(130) says:—“The bodies which had been thrown overboard in the

action, or sunk in the enemies’ ships, rose and floated about them in

great numbers; and the English may have deemed it a relief from the

contemplation of that ghastly sight, to be kept upon the alert by some

galleys, which taking advantage of the calm, ventured as near them as they

dare by day and night, and endeavoured to burn the ships with wildfire.”

He adds that the first mention of wildfire he had found is by Hardyng, one

of the earliest of our poets, in the following passage referring to this

event:—

“With oars many about us did they wind,

With wildfire oft assayled us day and night,

To brenne our ships in that they could or might.”

Next year we read of Henry preparing to again attack France. The enemy had

increased their naval force by hiring a number of Genoese and other

Italian vessels. The king sent a preliminary force against them under his

kinsman, the Earl of Huntingdon, who, near the mouth of the Seine,

succeeded in sinking three and capturing three of the great Genoese

carracks, taking the Admiral Jacques, the Bastard of Bourbon, “and as much

money as would have been half a year’s pay for the whole fleet.” These

prizes were brought to Southampton, “from whence the king shortly set

forth with a fleet of 1,500 ships, the sails of his own vessel being of

purple silk, richly embroidered with gold.” The remainder of Henry’s brief

reign—for he died the same year—is but the history of a series of

successes over his enemies.

It must never be forgotten that the navies of our early history were not

permanently organised, but drawn from all sources. A noble, a city or

port, voluntarily or otherwise, contributed according to the exigencies of

the occasion. As we shall see, it is to Henry VIII. that we owe the

establishment of a Royal Navy as a permanent institution. In 1546 King

Henry’s vessels are classified according to their “quality,” thus:

“ships,” “galleases,” “pynaces,” “roe-barges.” A list bearing date in 1612

exhibits the classes as follows:—“Shipps royal,” measuring downwards from

1,200 to 800 tons; “middling shipps,” from 800 to 600 tons; “small

shipps,” 350 tons; and pinnaces, from 200 to 80 tons. According to the old

definition, a ship was defined to be a “large hollow building, made to

pass over the seas with sails,” without reference to size or quality.

Before the days of the _Great Harry_, few, if any, English ships had more

than one mast or one sail; that ship had three masts, and the _Henri Grace

de Dieu_, which supplanted her, four. The galleas was probably a long,

low, and sharp-built vessel, propelled by oars as well as by sails; the

latter probably not fixed to the mast or any standing yard, but hoisted

from the deck when required to be used, as in the lugger or felucca of

modern days. The pinnace was a smaller description of galleas, while the

row-barge is sufficiently explained by its title.

The history of the period following the reign of Henry V. has much to do

with shipping interests of all kinds. The constant wars and turbulent

times gave great opportunity for piracy in the Channel and on the high

seas. Thus we read of Hannequin Leeuw, an outlaw from Ghent, who had so

prospered in piratical enterprises that he got together a squadron of

eight or ten vessels, well armed and stored. He not only infested the

coast of Flanders, and Holland, and the English Channel, but scoured the

coasts of Spain as far as Gibraltar, making impartial war on any or all

nations, and styling himself the “Friend of God, and the enemy of all

mankind.” This pirate escaped the vengeance of man, but at length was

punished by the elements: the greater part of his people perished in a

storm, and Hannequin Leeuw disappeared from the scene. Shortly afterwards

we find the Hollanders and Zeelanders uniting their forces against the

Easterling pirates, then infesting the seas, and taking twenty of their

ships. “This action,” says Southey, “was more important in its

consequences than in itself; it made the two provinces sensible, for the

first time, of their maritime strength, and gave a new impulse to that

spirit of maritime adventure which they had recently begun to manifest.”

Previously a voyage to Spain had been regarded as so perilous, that

“whoever undertook it settled his worldly and his spiritual affairs as if

preparing for death, before he set forth,” while now they opened up a

brisk trade with that country and Portugal. Till now they had been

compelled to bear the insults and injuries of the Easterlings without

combined attempt at defence; now they retaliated, captured one of their

admirals on the coast of Norway, and hoisted a besom at the mast-head in

token that they had swept the seas clean from their pirate enemies.

And now, in turn, some of them became pirates themselves, more

particularly Hendrick van Borselen, Lord of Veere, who assembled all the

outlaws he could gather, and committed such depredations, that he was

enabled to add greatly to his possessions in Walcheren, by the purchase of

confiscated estates. He received others as grants from his own duke, who

feared him, and thought it prudent at any cost to retain, at least in

nominal obedience, one who might render himself so obnoxious an enemy.

“This did not prevent the admiral—for he held that rank under the

duke—from infesting the coast of Flanders, carrying off cattle from

Cadsant, and selling them publicly in Zeeland. His excuse was that the

terrible character of his men compelled him to act as he did; and the duke

admitted the exculpation, being fain to overlook outrages which he could

neither prevent nor punish.” A statute of the reign of Henry VI. sets

forth the robberies committed upon the poor merchants of this realm, not

merely on the sea, but even in the rivers and ports of Britain, and how

not merely they lost their goods, but their persons also were taken and

imprisoned. Nor was this all, for “the king’s poor subjects dwelling nigh

the sea-coasts were taken out of their own houses, with their chattels and

children, and carried by the enemies where it pleased them.” In

consequence, the Commons begged that an armament might be provided and

maintained on the sea, which was conceded, and for a time piracy on

English subjects was partially quashed.

Meantime, we had pirates of our own. Warwick, the king-maker, was

unscrupulous in all points, and cared nothing for the lawfulness of the

captures which he could make on the high seas. For example, when he left

England for the purpose of securing Calais (then belonging to England) and

the fleet for the House of York, he having fourteen well-appointed

vessels, fell in with a fleet of Spaniards and Genoese. “There was a very

sore and long continued battle fought betwixt them,” lasting almost two

days. The English lost a hundred men; one account speaks of the Spanish

and Genoese loss at 1,000 men killed, and another of six-and-twenty

vessels sunk or put to flight. It is certain that three of the largest

vessels were taken into Calais, laden with wine, oil, iron, wax, cloth of

gold, and other riches, in all amounting in value to no less than £10,000.

The earl was a favourite with the sailors, probably for the license he

gave them; when the Duke of Somerset was appointed by the king’s party to

the command of Calais, from which he was effectually shut out by Warwick,

they carried off some of his ships and deserted with them to the latter.

Not long after, when reinforcements were lying at Sandwich waiting to

cross the Channel to Somerset’s aid, March and Warwick borrowed £18,000

from merchants, and dispatched John Dynham on a piratical expedition. He

landed at Sandwich, surprised the town, took Lord Rivers and his son in

their beds, robbed houses, took the principal ships of the king’s navy,

and carried them off, well furnished as they were with ordnance and

artillery. For a time Warwick carried all before him, but not a few of his

actions were most unmitigated specimens of piracy, on nations little

concerned with the Houses of York and Lancaster, their quarrels or wars.

But as this is not intended to be even a sketch of the history of England,

let us pass to the commencement of the reign of Henry VII., when the

“great minishment and decay of the navy, and the idleness of the

mariners,” were represented to his first Parliament, and led to certain

enactments in regard to the use of foreign bottoms. The wines of Southern

France were forbidden to be imported hither in any but English, Irish, or

Welsh ships, manned by English, Irish, or Welsh sailors. This Act was

repeated in the fourth year of Henry’s reign, and made to include other

articles, while it was then forbidden to freight an alien ship from or to

England with “any manner of merchandise,” if sufficient freight were to be

had in English vessels, on pain of forfeiture, one-half to the king, the

other to the seizers. “Henry,” says Lord Bacon, “being a king that loved

wealth, and treasure, he could not endure to have trade sick, nor any

obstruction to continue in the gate-vein which disperseth that blood.” How

well he loved riches is proved by the fact that when a speedy and not

altogether creditable peace was established between England and France,

and the indemnity had been paid by the latter, the money went into the

king’s private coffers; those who had impoverished themselves in his

service, or had contributed to the general outfit by the forced

“benevolence,” were left out in the cold. From Calais Henry wrote letters

to the Lord Mayor and aldermen (“which was a courtesy,” says Lord Bacon,

“that he sometimes used), half bragging what great sums he had obtained

for the peace, as knowing well that it was ever good news in London that

the king’s coffers were full; better news it would have been if their

benevolence had been but a loan.”

[Illustration: SIR ANDREW WOOD’S VICTORY.]

Scotch historians tell us that Sir Andrew Wood, of Largo, Scotland, had

with his two vessels, the _Flower_ and _Yellow Carvel_, captured five

chosen vessels of the royal navy, which had infested the Firth of Forth,

and had taken many prizes from the Scotch previously, during this reign.

Henry VII. was greatly mortified by this defeat, and offered to put any

means at the disposal of the officer who would undertake this service, and

great rewards if Wood were brought to him alive or dead. All hesitated,

such was the renown of Wood, and his strength in men and artillery, and

maritime and military skill. At length, Sir Stephen Bull, a man of

distinguished prowess, offered himself, and three ships were placed under

his command, with which he sailed for the Forth, and anchored behind the

Isle of May, waiting Wood’s return from a foreign voyage. Some fishermen

were captured and detained, in order that they should point out Sir

Andrew’s ships when they arrived. “It was early in the morning when the

action began; the Scots, by their skilful manœuvring, obtained the

weather-gage, and the battle continued in sight of innumerable spectators

who thronged the coast, till darkness suspended it. It was renewed at

day-break; the ships grappled; and both parties were so intent upon the

struggle, that the tide carried them into the mouth of the Tay, into such

shoal water that the English, seeing no means of extricating themselves,

surrendered. Sir Andrew brought his prizes to Dundee; the wounded were

carefully attended there; and James, with royal magnanimity is said to

have sent both prisoners and ships to Henry, praising the courage which

they had displayed, and saying that the contest was for honour, not for

booty.”

Few naval incidents occurred under the reign of Henry VII., but it

belongs, nevertheless, to the most important age of maritime discovery.

Henry had really assented to the propositions of Columbus after Portugal

had refused them; had not the latter’s brother, Bartholomew, been captured

by pirates on his way to England, and detained as a slave at the oar, the

Spaniards would not have had the honour of discovering the New World.

This, and the grand discoveries of Cabot (directly encouraged by Henry),

who reached Newfoundland and Florida; the various expeditions down the

African coast instituted by Dom John; the discovery of the Cape and new

route to India by Diaz and Vasco de Gama; the discovery of the Pacific by

Balboa, and Cape Horn and the Straits by Magellan, will be detailed in

another section of this work. They belong to this and immediately

succeeding reigns, and mark the grandest epoch in the history of

geographical discovery.

“The use of fire-arms,” says Southey, “without which the conquests of the

Spaniards in the New World must have been impossible, changed the

character of naval war sooner than it did the system of naval tactics,

though they were employed earlier by land than by sea.” It is doubtful

when cannon was first employed at sea; one authority(131) says that it was

by the Venetians against the Genoese, before 1330. Their use necessitated

very material alterations in the structure of war-ships. The first

port-holes are believed to have been contrived by a ship-builder at Brest,

named Descharges, and their introduction took place in 1499. They were

“circular holes, cut through the sides of the vessel, and so small as

scarcely to admit of the guns being traversed in the smallest degree, or

fired otherwise than straightforward.” Hitherto there had been no

distinctions between the vessels used in commerce and in the king’s

service; the former being constantly employed for the latter; but now we

find the addition of another tier, and a general enlargement of the

war-vessels. Still, when any emergency required, merchant vessels, not

merely English, but Genoese, Venetian, and from the Hanse Towns, were

constantly hired for warfare. So during peace the king’s ships were

sometimes employed in trade, or freighted to merchants. Henry was very

desirous of increasing and maintaining commercial relations with other

countries. In the commission to one of his ambassadors, he says, “The

earth being the common mother of all mankind, what can be more pleasant or

more humane than to communicate a portion of all her productions to all

her children by commerce?” Many special commercial treaties were made by

him, and one concluded with the Archduke Philip after a dispute with him,

which had put a stop to the trade with the Low Countries, was called the

great commercial treaty (_intercursus magnus_). “It was framed with the

greatest care to render the intercourse between the two countries

permanent, and profitable to both.”

The first incident in the naval history of the next reign, that of Henry

VIII., grew out of an event which had occurred long before. A Portuguese

squadron had, in the year 1476, seized a Scottish ship, laden with a rich

cargo, and commanded by John Barton. Letters of marque were granted him,

which he had not, apparently, used to any great advantage, for they were

renewed to his three sons thirty years afterwards. The Bartons were not

content with repaying themselves for their loss, but found the Portuguese

captures so profitable that they became confirmed pirates, “and when they

felt their own strength, they seem, with little scruple, to have

considered ships of any nation as their fair prize.” Complaints were

lodged before Henry, but were almost ignored, “till the Earl of Surrey,

then Treasurer and Marshal of England, declared at the council board, that

while he had an estate that could furnish out a ship, or a son that was

capable of commanding one, the narrow seas should not be so infested.” Two

ships, commanded by his two sons, Sir Thomas and Sir Edward Howard, were

made ready, with the king’s knowledge and consent. The two brothers put to

sea, but were separated by stress of weather; the same happened to the two

pirate ships—the _Lion_, under Sir Andrew Barton’s own command, and the

_Jenny Perwin_, or _Bark of Scotland_. The strength of one of them is thus

described in an old ballad, by a merchant, one of Sir Andrew’s victims,

who is supposed to relate his tale to Sir Thomas Howard:—

“He is brass within, and steel without,

With beams on his top-castle strong;

And thirty pieces of ordnance

He carries on each side along;

And he hath a pinnace dearly dight,

St. Andrew’s Cross it is his guide;

His pinnace beareth nine score men,

And fifteen cannons on each side.

* * * * *

Were ye twenty ships, and he but one,

I swear by Kirk, and bower and hall,

He would overcome them every one

If once his beams they do down fall.”

But it was not so to be. Sir Thomas Howard, as he lay in the Downs,

descried the former making for Scotland, and immediately gave chase, “and

there was a sore battle. The Englishmen were fierce, and the Scots

defended themselves manfully, and ever Andrew blew his whistle to

encourage his men. Yet, for all that, Lord Howard and his men, by clean

force, entered the main deck. There the English entered on all sides, and

the Scots fought sore on the hatches; but, in conclusion, Andrew was

taken, being so sore wounded that he died there, and then the remnant of

the Scots were taken, with their ship.” Meantime Sir Edward Howard had

encountered the other piratical ship, and though the Scots defended

themselves like “hardy and well-stomached men,” succeeded in boarding it.

The prizes were taken to Blackwall, and the prisoners, 150 in number,

being all left alive, “so bloody had the action been,” were tried at

Whitehall, before the Bishop of Winchester and a council. The bishop

reminded them that “though there was peace between England and Scotland,

they, contrary to that, as thieves and pirates, had robbed the king’s

subjects within his streams, wherefore they had deserved to die by the

law, and to be hanged at the low-water mark. Then, said the Scots, ‘We

acknowledge our offence, and ask mercy, and not the law,’ and a priest,

who was also a prisoner, said, ‘My lord, we appeal from the king’s justice

to his mercy.’ Then the bishop asked if he were authorised by them to say

thus, and they all cried, ‘Yea, yea!’ ‘Well, then,’ said the bishop, ‘you

shall find the king’s mercy above his justice; for, where you were dead by

the law, yet by his mercy he will revive you. You shall depart out of this

realm within twenty days, on pain of death if ye be found after the

twentieth day; and pray for the king.’” James subsequently required

restitution from Henry, who answered “with brotherly salutation” that “it

became not a prince to charge his confederate with breach of peace for

doing justice upon a pirate and thief.” But there is no doubt that it was

regarded as a national affair in Scotland, and helped to precipitate the

war which speedily ensued.

[Illustration: THE DEFEAT OF SIR ANDREW BARTON.]

Some of the edicts of the period seem strange enough to modern ears. The

Scotch Parliament had passed an Act forbidding any ship freighted with

staple goods to put to sea during the three winter months, under a penalty

of five pounds. In 1493, a generation after the Act was passed, another

provided that _all_ burghs and towns should provide ships and busses, the

least to be of twenty tons, fitted according to the means of the said

places, provided with mariners, nets, and all necessary gear for taking

“great fish and small.” The officers in every burgh were to make all the

“stark idle men” within their bounds go on board these vessels, and serve

them there for their wages, or, in case of refusal, banish them from their

burgh. This was done with the idea of training a maritime force, but seems

to have produced little effect. James IV. built a ship, however, which

was, according to Scottish writers, larger and more powerfully armed than

any then built in England or France. She was called the _Great Michael_,

and “was of so great stature that she wasted all the oak forests of Fife,

Falkland only excepted.” Southey reminds us that the Scots, like the Irish

of the time, were constantly in feud with each other, and consequently

destroyed their forests, to prevent the danger of ambuscades, and also to

cut off the means of escape. Timber for this ship was brought from Norway,

and though all the shipwrights in Scotland and many others from foreign

countries were busily employed upon her, she took a year and a day to

complete. The vessel is described as twelve score feet in length, and

thirty-six in breadth of beam, within the walls, which were ten feet each

thick, so that no cannon-ball could go through them. She had 300 mariners

on board, six score gunners, and 1,000 men-of-war, including officers,

“captains, skippers, and quarter-masters.” Sir Andrew Wood and Robert

Barton were two of the chief officers. “This great ship cumbered Scotland

to get her to sea. From the time that she was afloat, and her masts and

sails complete, with anchors offering thereto, she was counted to the king

to be thirty thousand pounds expense, by her artillery, which was very

costly.” The _Great Michael_ never did enough to have a single exploit

recorded, nor was she unfortunate enough to meet a tragic ending.

In 1511 war was declared against France, and Henry caused many new ships

to be made, repairing and rigging the old. After an action on the coast of

Brittany, where both claimed the advantage, and where two of the largest

vessels—the _Cordelier_, with 900 Frenchmen, and the _Regent_, with 700

Englishmen, were burned—nearly all on board perishing, Henry advised “a

great ship to be made, such as was never before seen in England,” and

which was named the _Henri Grace de Dieu_, or popularly the _Great

Harry_.(132) There are many ancient representations of this vessel, which

is said to have cost £11,000, and to have taken 400 men four whole days to

work from Erith, where she was built, to Barking Creek. “The masts,” says

a well-known authority, “were five in number,” but he goes on clearly to

show that the fifth was simply the bowsprit; they were in one piece, as

had been the usual mode in all previous times, although soon to be altered

by the introduction of several joints or top-masts, which could be lowered

in time of need. The rigging was simple to the last degree, but there was

a considerable amount of ornamentation on the hull, and small flags were

disposed almost at random on different parts of the deck and gunwale, and

one at the head of each mast. The standard of England was hoisted on the

principal mast; enormous pendants, or streamers, were added, though

ornaments which must have been often inconvenient. The _Great Harry_ was

of 1,000 tons, and in—so far as the writer can discover—the only skirmish

she was concerned in the Channel, for it could not be dignified by the

name of an engagement, carried 700 men. She was burned at Woolwich, at the

opening of Mary’s reign, through the carelessness of the sailors.

[Illustration: OLD DEPTFORD DOCKYARD.]

In the reign of Henry VIII. a navy office was first formed, and regular

arsenals were established at Portsmouth, Woolwich, and Deptford. The

change in maritime warfare consequent on the use of gunpowder rendered

ships of a new construction necessary, and more was done for the

improvement of the navy in this reign than in any former one. Italian

shipwrights, then the most expert, were engaged, and at the conclusion of

Henry’s reign the Royal Navy consisted of seventy-one vessels, thirty of

which were ships of respectable burden, aggregating 10,550 tons. Five

years later, it had dwindled to less than one-half. Six years after

Henry’s death, England lost Calais, a fort and town which had cost Edward

III., in the height of his power, an obstinate siege of eleven months. But

on Elizabeth’s accession to the throne, the star of England was once more

in the ascendant.

Elizabeth commenced her reign by providing in all points for war, that she

“might the more quietly enjoy peace.” Arms and weapons were imported from

Germany, at considerable cost, but in such quantities that the land had

never before been so amply stored with “all kinds of convenient armour and

weapons.” And she, also, was the first to cause the manufacture of

gunpowder in England, that she “might not both pray and pay for it too to

her neighbours.” She allowed the free exportation of herrings and all

other sea-fish in English bottoms, and a partial exemption from

impressment was granted to all fishermen; while to encourage their work,

Wednesday and Saturday were made “fish-days;” this, it was stated, “was

meant politicly, not for any superstition to be maintained in the choice

of meats.” The navy became her great care, so much that “foreigners named

her the restorer of the glory of shipping, and the Queen of the North

Sea.” She raised the pay of sailors. “The wealthier inhabitants of the

sea-coast,” says Camden, “in imitation of their princess, built ships of

war, striving who should exceed, insomuch that the Queen’s Navy, joined

with her subjects’ shipping, was, in short time, so puissant that it was

able to bring forth 20,000 fighting men for sea service.”

The greatest and most glorious event of her reign was, without cavil, the

defeat of the Spanish Armada, at one time deemed and called “The

Invincible.” With the political complications which preceded the invasion,

we have nought to do: it was largely a religious war, inasmuch as Popish

machinations were at the bottom of all. When the contest became

inevitable, the Spanish Government threw off dissimulation, and showed “a

disdainful disregard of secrecy as to its intentions, or rather a proud

manifestation of them, which,” says Southey, “if they had been successful,

might have been called magnanimous.” Philip had determined on putting

forth his might, and accounts which were ostentatiously published in

advance termed it “The most fortunate and invincible Armada.” The fleet

consisted of 130 ships and twenty caravels, having on board nearly 20,000

soldiers, 8,450 marines, 2,088 galley-slaves, with 2,630 great pieces of

brass artillery. The names of all the saints appeared in the nomenclature

of the ships, “while,” says Southey, “holier appellations, which ought

never to be thus applied, were strangely associated with the Great Griffin

and the Sea Dog, the Cat and the White Falcon.” Every noble house in Spain

was represented, and there were 180 friars and Jesuits, with Cardinal

Allen at their head, a prelate who had not long before published at

Antwerp a gross libel on Elizabeth, calling her “heretic, rebel, and

usurper, an incestuous bastard, the bane of Christendom, and firebrand of

all mischief.” These priests were to bring England back to the true Church

the moment they landed. The galleons being above sixty in number were,

“exceeding great, fair, and strong, and built high above the water, like

castles, easy to be fought withal, but not so easy to board as the English

and the Netherland ships; their upper decks were musket-proof, and beneath

they were four or five feet thick, so that no bullet could pass them.

Their masts were bound about with oakum, or pieces of fazeled ropes, and

armed against all shot. The galleases were goodly great vessels, furnished

with chambers, chapels, towers, pulpits, and such-like; they rowed like

galleys, with exceeding great oars, each having 300 slaves, and were able

to do much harm with their great ordnance.” Most severe discipline was to

be preserved; blasphemy and oaths were to be punished rigidly; gaming, as

provocative of these, and quarrelling, were forbidden; no one might wear a

dagger; religious exercises, including the use of a special litany, in

which all archangels, angels, and saints, were invoked to assist with

their prayers against the English heretics and enemies of the faith, were

enjoined. “No man,” says Southey, “ever set forth upon a bad cause with

better will, nor under a stronger delusion of perverted faith.” The

gunners were instructed to have half butts filled with water and vinegar,

wet clothes, old sails, &c., ready to extinguish fire, and what seems

strange now-a-days, in addition to the regular artillery, every ship was

to carry two boats’-loads of large stones, to throw on the enemy’s decks,

forecastles, &c., during an encounter.

Meantime Elizabeth and her ministers were fully aware of the danger, and

the appeals made to the Lords, and through the lord-lieutenants of

counties were answered nobly. The first to present himself before the

queen was a Roman Catholic peer, the Viscount Montague, who brought 200

horsemen led by his own sons, and professed the resolution that “though he

was very sickly, and in age, to live and die in defence of the queen and

of his country, against all invaders, whether it were Pope, king, or

potentate whatsoever.” The city of London, when 5,000 men and fifteen

ships were required, prayed the queen to accept twice the number. “In a

very short time all her whole realm, and every corner, were furnished with

armed men, on horseback and on foot; and those continually trained,

exercised, and put into bands in warlike manner, as in no age ever was

before in this realm. There was no sparing of money to provide horse,

armour, weapons, powder, and all necessaries.” Thousands volunteered their

services personally without wages; others money for armour and weapons,

and wages for soldiers. The country was never in better condition for

defence.

Some urged the queen to place no reliance on maritime defence, but to

receive the enemy only on shore. Elizabeth thought otherwise, and

determined that the enemy should reap no more advantage on the sea than on

land. She gave the command of the whole fleet to Charles Lord Howard of

Effingham; Drake being vice-admiral, and Hawkins and Frobisher—all grand

names in naval history—being in the western division. Lord Henry Seymour

was to lie off the coast of Flanders with forty ships, Dutch and English,

and prevent the Prince of Parma from forming a junction with the Armada.

The whole number of ships collected for the defence of the country was

191, and the number of seamen 17,472. There was one ship in the fleet (the

_Triumph_) of 1,100 tons, one of 1,000, one of 900, and two of 800 tons

each, but the larger part of the vessels were very small, and the

aggregate tonnage amounted to only about half that of the Armada. For the

land defence over 100,000 men were called out, regimented, and armed, but

only half of them were trained. This was exclusive of the Border and

Yorkshire forces.

The Armada left the Tagus in the latter end of May, 1588, for Corunna,

there to embark the remainder of the forces and stores. On the 30th of the

same month, the Lord Admiral and Sir Francis Drake sailed from Plymouth. A

serious storm was encountered, which dismasted some and dispersed others

of the enemy’s fleet, and occasioned the loss of four Portuguese galleys.

One David Gwynne, a Welshman, who had been a galley-slave for eleven

years, took the opportunity this storm afforded, and regained his liberty.

He made himself master of one galley, captured a second, and was joined by

a third, in which the wretched slaves were encouraged to rise by his

example, and successfully carried the three into a French port. After this

disastrous commencement, the Armada put back to Corunna, and was pursued

thither by Effingham; but as he approached the coast of Spain, the wind

changed, and as he was afraid the enemy might effect the passage to the

Channel unperceived, he returned to its entrance, whence the ships were

withdrawn, some to the coast of Ireland, and the larger part to Plymouth,

where the men were allowed to come ashore, and the officers made merry

with revels, dancing, and bowling. The enemy was so long in making an

appearance, that even Elizabeth was persuaded the invasion would not occur

that year; and with this idea, Secretary Walsingham wrote to the admiral

to send back four of his largest ships. “Happily for England, and most

honourably for himself, the Lord Effingham, though he had relaxed his

vigilance, saw how perilous it was to act as if all were safe. He humbly

entreated that nothing might be lightly credited in so weighty a matter,

and that he might retain these ships, though it should be at his own cost.

This was no empty show of disinterested zeal; for if the services of those

ships had not been called for, there can be little doubt, that in the

rigid parsimony of Elizabeth’s government, he would have been called upon

to pay the costs.”

[Illustration: THE FIRST SHOT AGAINST THE ARMADA.]

The Armada, now completely refitted, sailed from Corunna on July 12th, and

when off the Lizard were sighted by a pirate, one Thomas Fleming, who

hastened to Plymouth with the news, and not merely obtained pardon for his

offences, but was awarded a pension for life. At that time the wind “blew

stiffly into the harbour,” but all hands were got on board, and the ships

were warped out, the Lord Admiral encouraging the men, and hauling at the

ropes himself. By the following day thirty of the smaller vessels were

out, and next day the Armada was descried “with lofty turrets like

castles, in front like a half-moon; the wings thereof speading out about

the length of seven miles, sailing very slowly though with full sails; the

wind,” says Camden, “being as it were weary with wafting them, and the

ocean groaning under their weight.” The Spaniards gave up the idea of

attacking Plymouth, and the English let them pass, that they might chase

them in the rear. Next day the Lord Admiral sent the _Defiance_ pinnace

forward, and opened the attack by discharging her ordnance, and later his

own ship, the _Ark Royal_, “thundered thick and furiously” into the

Spanish vice-admiral’s ship, and soon after, Drake, Hawkins, and

Frobisher, gave the Admiral Recalde a very thorough peppering. That

officer’s ship was rendered nearly unserviceable, and he was obliged to

crowd on sail to catch up with the others, who showed little disposition

for fighting. After a smart action in which he had injured the enemy much,

and suffered little hurt himself, Effingham gave over, because forty of

his ships had not yet come up from Plymouth. During the night the

Spaniards lost one of their ships, which was set on fire, it was believed,

by a Flemish gunner, whose wife and self had been ill-treated by the

officer of the troops on board. The fire was quenched, after all her upper

works had been consumed; but when the Spaniards left the hulk, they

abandoned fifty of their countrymen, “miserably hurt.” This night was

remarkable for a series of disasters and _contretemps_. A galleon, under

the command of one Valdez, ran foul of another ship, broke her foremast,

and was left behind. Effingham, supposing that the men had been taken out,

without tarrying to take possession of the prize, passed on with two other

vessels, that he might not lose sight of the enemy. “He thought that he

was following Drake’s ship, which ought to have carried the lanthorn that

night; it proved to be a Spanish light, and in the morning he found

himself in the midst of the enemy’s fleet;” but he managed to get away

unobserved, or at all events unpursued. Drake, meantime, was mistakably

following in the dark and stormy night a phantom enemy, in the shape of

five Easterling vessels. Meantime, the English fleet not seeing the

expected light on Drake’s ship, lay-to during the night. Drake, next

morning, had the good fortune to fall in with Valdez, who, after a brief

parley, surrendered, and the prize was sent into Plymouth. Drake and his

men divided 55,000 golden ducats among them, as part of the spoil on

board. The hulk of the galleon was taken to Weymouth, and although burned

almost to the water’s edge, the gunpowder in the hold remained intact and

had not taken fire. The next day there was considerable manœuvring and

skirmishing, but with no very memorable loss on either side. A great

Venetian ship and some smaller ones were taken from the enemy, while on

our side Captain Cook died with honour in the midst of the Spanish ships,

in a little vessel of his own. Both sides were wary; Effingham did not

think good to grapple with them, because they had an army in the fleet,

while he had none; our army awaited their landing. The Spaniards meant as

much as possible to avoid fighting, and hold on till they could effect a

junction with the Prince of Parma. Next morning there was little wind, and

only the four great galleases were engaged, these having the advantage on

account of their oars, while the English were becalmed; the latter,

however, did considerable execution with chain-shot, cutting asunder their

tacklings and cordage. But they were now constrained to send ashore for

gunpowder, with which they were either badly supplied, or had expended too

freely. Off the Isle of Wight, the English battered the Spanish admiral

with their great ordnance, and shot away his mainmast; but other ships

came to his assistance, beat them off, and set upon the English admiral,

who only escaped by favour of a breeze which sprung up at the right

moment. Camden relates how the English shot away the lantern from one of

the Spanish ships, and the beak-head from a second, and that Frobisher

escaped by the skin of his teeth from a situation of great danger. Still

this was little more than skirmishing. “The Spaniards say that from that

time they gave over what they call the pursuit of their enemy; and they

dispatched a fresh messenger to the Prince of Parma, urging him to effect

his junction with them as soon as possible, and withal to send them some

great shot, for they had expended theirs with more prodigality than

effect.” On the other hand the English determined to wait till they could

attack the enemy in the Straits of Dover, where they expected to be joined

by the squadrons under Lord Seymour and Sir William Winter. Meantime

Effingham’s forces were being considerably increased by volunteers; “For

the gentlemen of England hired ships from all parts at their own charge,

and with one accord came flocking thither as to a set field.” Among the

volunteers were Sir Walter Raleigh, the Earls of Oxford, Northumberland,

and Cumberland. On the evening of the 27th the Spaniards came to anchor

off Calais, and the English ships, now 140 in number, “all of them ships

fit for fight, good sailors, nimble and tight for tacking about which way

they would, anchored within cannon-shot.” A squadron of about thirty ships

belonging to the States, acting in conjunction with the Admiral of Zeeland

and his squadron, effectually blockaded Dunkirk, and the poor Prince of

Parma, with his pressed men constantly deserting, his flat-bottomed boats

leaky, and his provisions not ready, could do nothing.

The Spanish ships were almost invulnerable to the shot and ordnance of the

day, and “their height was such that our bravest seamen were against any

attempt at boarding them.” These facts were well understood by Elizabeth’s

ministers, and the Lord Admiral was instructed to convert eight of his

worst vessels into fire-ships. The orders arrived so _à propos_ of the

occasion, and were so swiftly executed, that within thirty hours after the

enemy had cast anchor off Calais, the ships were unloaded and dismantled,

filled with combustibles and all their ordnance charged, and their sides

being smeared with pitch, rosin, and wildfire, were sent, in the dead of

the night, with wind and tide, against the Spanish fleet. When the

Spaniards saw the whole sea glittering and shining with the reflection of

the flames, the guns exploding as the fire reached them, and a heavy

canopy of dense smoke overhead obscuring the heavens, they remembered

those terrible fire-ships which had been used so effectively in the

Scheldt, and the cry resounded through the fleet, “The fire of Antwerp!”

Some of the Spanish captains let their hawsers slip, some cut their

cables, and in terror and confusion put to sea; “happiest they who could

first be gone, though few or none could tell which course to take.” In the

midst of all this fearful excitement one of the largest of the galleases,

commanded by D. Hugo de Moncada, ran foul of another ship, lost her

rudder, floated about at the mercy of the tide, and at length ran upon

Calais sands. Here she was assailed by the English small craft, who

battered her with their guns, but dared not attempt boarding till the

admiral sent a hundred men in his boats, under Sir Amias Preston. The

Spaniards fought bravely, but at length Moncada was shot through the head,

and the galleas was carried by boarding. Most of the Spanish soldiers, 400

in number, jumped overboard and were drowned; the 300 galley-slaves were

freed from their fetters. The vessel had 50,000 ducats on board, “a

booty,” says Speed, “well fitting the English soldiers’ affections.” The

English were about to set the galleas on fire, but the governor of Calais

prevented this by firing upon the captors, and the ship became his prize.

[Illustration: THE FIRE-SHIPS ATTACKING THE ARMADA.]

The Duke of Medina Sidonia, admiral of the Spanish Armada, had ordered the

whole fleet to weigh anchor and stand out to sea when he perceived the

approaching fire-ships; his vessels were to return to their former

stations when the danger should be over. When he fired a signal for the

others to follow his example, few of them heard it, “because they were

scattered all about, and driven by fear, some of them in the wide sea, and

driven among the shoals of Flanders.” When they had once more congregated,

they ranged themselves in order off Gravelines, where the final action was

fought. Drake and Fenner were the first to assail them, followed by many

brave captains, and lastly the admiral came up with Lord Thomas Howard and

Lord Sheffield. There were scarcely two or three and twenty among their

ships which matched ninety of the Spanish vessels in size, but the smaller

vessels were more easily handled and manœuvred. “Wherefore,” says Hakluyt,

“using their prerogative of nimble steerage, whereby they could turn and

wield themselves with the wind which way they listed, they came oftentimes

very near upon the Spaniards, and charged them so sore, that now and then

they were but a pike’s length asunder; and so continually giving them one

broadside after another, they discharged all their shot, both great and

small, upon them, spending a whole day, from morning till night, in that

violent kind of conflict.” During this action many of the Spanish vessels

were pierced through and through between wind and water; one was sunk, and

it was learnt that one of her officers, having proposed to strike, was put

to death by another; the brother of the slain man instantly avenged his

death, and then the ship went down. Others are believed to have sunk, and

many were terribly shattered. One, which leaked so fast that fifty men

were employed at the pumps, tried to run aground on the Flemish coast,

where her captain had to strike to a Dutch commander. Our ships at last

desisted from the contest, from sheer want of ammunition; and the Armada

made an effort to reach the Straits. Here a great engagement was expected,

but the fighting was over, and that which the hand of man barely commenced

the hand of God completed. The Spaniards “were now experimentally

convinced that the English excelled them in naval strength. Several of

their largest ships had been lost, others were greatly damaged; there was

no port to which they could repair; and to force their way through the

victorious English fleet, then in sight, and amounting to 140 sail, was

plainly and confessedly impossible.” They resolved upon returning to Spain

by a northern route, and “having gotten more sea room for their

huge-bodied bulks, spread their mainsails, and made away as fast as wind

and water would give them leave.” Effingham, leaving Seymour to blockade

the Prince of Parma’s force, followed what our chroniclers now termed the

Vincible Armada, and pursued them to Scotland, where they did not attempt

to land, but made for Norway, “where the English,” says Drake, “thought it

best to leave them to those boisterous and uncouth northern seas.”

Meantime, it was still expected ashore that the Prince of Parma might

effect a landing, and it was at this time that Elizabeth, who declared her

intention to be present wherever the battle might be fought, rode through

the soldiers’ ranks at Tilbury, and made her now historical speech.

“Incredible it is,” says Camden, “how much she encouraged the hearts of

her captains and soldiers by her presence and her words.” When a false

report was brought that the prince had landed, the news was immediately

published throughout the camp, “and assuredly,” says Southey, “if the

enemy had set foot upon our shores they would have sped no better than

they had done at sea, such was the spirit of the nation.” Some time

elapsed before the fate of the Armada was known. It was affirmed on the

Continent that the greater part of the English fleet had been taken, and a

large proportion sunk, the poor remainder having been driven into the

Thames “all rent and torn.” It was believed at Rome that Elizabeth was

taken and England conquered! Meantime, the wretched Armada was being blown

hither and thither by contending winds. The mules and horses had to be

thrown overboard lest the water should fail. When they had reached a

northern latitude, some 200 miles from the Scottish isles, the duke

ordered them each to take the best course they could for Spain, and he

himself with some five-and-twenty of his best provided ships reached it in

safety. The others made for Cape Clear, hoping to water there, but a

terrible storm arose, in which it is believed more than thirty of the

vessels perished off the coast of Ireland. About 200 of the poor Spaniards

were driven from their hiding-places and beheaded, through the inhumanity

of Sir William Fitzwilliam. “Terrified at this, the other Spaniards, sick

and starved as they were, committed themselves to the sea in their

shattered vessels, and very many of them were swallowed up by the waves.”

Two of their ships were wrecked on the coasts of Norway. Some few got into

the English seas; two were taken by cruisers off Rochelle. About 700 men

were cast ashore in Scotland, were humanely treated, and subsequently

sent, by request of the Prince of Parma, to the Netherlands. Of the whole

Armada only fifty-three vessels returned to Spain; eighty-one were lost.

The enormous number of 14,000 men, of whom only 2,000 were prisoners, were

missing. By far the larger proportion were lost by shipwreck.

[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH ON HER WAY TO ST. PAUL’S.]

“Philip’s behaviour,” says Southey, “when the whole of this great calamity

was known, should always be recorded to his honour. He received it as a

dispensation of Providence, and gave, and commanded to be given,

throughout Spain, thanks to God and the saints that it was no greater.” In

England, a solemn thanksgiving was celebrated at St. Paul’s, where the

Spanish ensigns which had been taken were displayed, and the same flags

were shown on London Bridge the following day, it being Southwark Fair.

Many of the arms and instruments of torture taken are still to be seen in

the Tower. Another great thanksgiving-day was celebrated on the

anniversary of the queen’s accession, and one of great solemnity, two days

later, throughout the realm. On the Sunday following, the queen went “as

in public, but Christian triumph,” to St. Paul’s, in a chariot “made in

the form of a throne with four pillars,” and drawn by four white horses;

alighting from which at the west door, she knelt and “audibly praised God,

acknowledging Him her only Defender, who had thus delivered the land from

the rage of the enemy.” Her Privy Council, the nobility, the French

ambassador, the judges, and the heralds, accompanied her. The streets were

hung with blue cloth and flags, “the several companies, in their liveries,

being drawn up both sides of the way, with their banners in becoming and

gallant order.” Thus ended this most serious attempt at the invasion of

England.