A SPLENDID DISOBEDIENCE.
Gilbert came down upon the beach at the spot where the men of the
_Defiance_ and the _Bonaventure_ were encamped. Sir Robert Cross and Sir
Richard Grenville had come ashore, and their voices sounded loud and
re-echoed among the rocks as they issued orders to the men to carry the
invalids down to the boats and hasten on board. All was bustle, noise,
and confusion. Here a stalwart man of Devon had shouldered one of his
sick shipmates and was carrying him over the shingle, here others were
rolling down water-breakers that had been left from the early morning,
and others again carrying bedding and tent-poles, with their wrappings
of ropes and sail-cloth.
The first person whom Gilbert recognised in the crowd was Timothy
Trollope.
"What means all this commotion, Tim?" he inquired. "Is't the
treasure-ships in sight?"
"No such good luck," answered Tim, looking up from his work of lifting
one of the admiral's men upon his shoulder. "Here, I pray you, lend me a
hand, Master Gilbert, and I'll tell you as we carry this poor fellow to
his boat."
Gilbert took the man's legs in his arms while Timothy laid hold of him
by his body, and as they bore him downward over the rough beach Tim
said:
"Didst thou not see the coming of the ship, then?"
"I indeed saw a little ship approach," returned Gilbert, "but I know not
whence she came nor--"
"'Tis Captain Middleton's ship," interrupted Timothy. "Captain
Middleton's ship come hence from Spain to give the alarm that full half
a hundred of King Philip's warships are even now bearing down upon us
with intent to do battle!"
"I have seen them. I saw them from the heights," declared Gilbert. And
then questioning Timothy further he learned that Captain Middleton had
been one of the Earl of Cumberland's fleet, that he had had a race with
the galleons and had outstripped them by only a few hours' sail. He had
counted three-and-fifty galleons--the best that Spain possessed, and it
seemed that the King of Spain, knowing of Lord Thomas Howard's presence
and intention at the Azores, had sent out this formidable fleet to
frustrate his foes and protect his treasure-ships against the English.
The news had come upon Lord Thomas Howard like a thunder-clap, when he
was all unprepared for the emergency. As we have seen, more than half
the crew in every ship were away on shore, lying sick, while a large
part of the remainder were busy collecting ballast and getting water. On
board most of the ships only a few officers and ship-keepers were left.
Yet taken by surprise as they were, the captains were now meeting the
perilous situation with a prompt alacrity worthy of the navy of which
they were proud to form a part. Sir Richard Grenville as vice-admiral
had hastened ashore, knowing that it was his duty to remain behind with
his ship until the last man was on board. He now gave his orders calmly
and with no show of hurry, and when he had seen the men of the flag-ship
well in the way of getting on board, he passed on along the beach to
where those of the _Bonaventure_ were preparing to quit their temporary
dwelling-place. In like manner he saw to the men of Captain Fenner's
_Lion_, Captain Vavasour's _Foresight_, Captain Duffield's _Crane_, and
to those of the _Bark Raleigh_, the _Pilgrim_, the _George Noble_, and
the other smaller ships. Lastly, he came to his own men of the
_Revenge_, and when these had been sent on board he again made his way
along the beach to pick up all the possible stragglers. This work
occupied him little more than half an hour, for all knew what was at
stake, and each man had taken his own duty in hand with ready
promptitude.
The first alarm-gun had been fired at one o'clock. By two o'clock five
of the six men-of-war and all the victuallers, flyboats, and pinnaces
had slipped their cables or weighed their anchors, had shaken out their
sails and were beginning to work out seaward for an offing.
While Sir Richard Grenville was on shore the admiral himself had not
been idle. It was too late now to think of ballasting his ships, which
were all too light by reason of having been emptied of all the old and
infected ballast that they had brought in them from England; but he
knew that more than half his forces were sick and useless for the work
of battle, that on the _Bonaventure_, his largest ship, there were not
so many men in health as could handle her mainsail, so he ordered that a
score of the best should be transferred to her from the ship that Sir
George Cary had sent out with the expedition, while Sir George Cary's
ship was at the last moment scuttled and left to go to the bottom.
Lord Thomas Howard signalled his orders to his little fleet, and his own
ship, the _Defiance_, led the way out into the offing, for the Spanish
galleons were already approaching the nearest headland of the island and
he deemed it wise to escape as speedily as he could. He saw that the
_Revenge_ had not yet weighed anchor, and he signalled to her yet again,
intending that Grenville should loiter no longer, but that, whatever her
condition or the condition of the few men still remaining ashore, she
should at once slip her cable and follow in her appointed place at the
rear.
Sir Richard Grenville saw the signal, but thinking only of the sick men
in his charge he would not start until he had collected and shipped the
last of his crew, who, if he had left them on shore, must have been
lost.
"We cannot leave the poor fellows here to die," said he to Timothy
Trollope, who had been with him during this time helping the men into
the boats. "It were surely cowardly to abandon them. Heave yourself up
on my back, lad," he added, speaking to Red Bob, who was now the last
remaining man. "There is yet time if we are but quick." And with
Timothy's help he carried Bob down to the boat, and then they were rowed
out to the _Revenge_.
Then with every man safe on board he at last weighed. At the same
instant as the dripping anchor came to the bows, the tall masts with
their bellying sails and the towering hulls of the two vanguard
squadrons of the Spanish fleet appeared under the headland. On the
galleons swept to the windward of the _Revenge_, with their ports triced
up and the gun muzzles showing, and the brass patereros glittering in
the afternoon sun.
Sir Richard, standing, as it seemed, quite unconcerned upon his
quarter-deck, took in the position in which he was placed. To the
windward of him were the fifty-three great galleons of Spain. On his
lee, now drawing wind and sailing quickly into safety, were the ships of
Lord Thomas Howard. Grenville was not a trained seaman, and he knew but
few of the mariner's tricks and tactics, but he understood his present
case well enough to know that his best and only chance of safety was to
'bout ship and run for it in the endeavour to weather the leaders of the
Spaniards.
He cast a moment's glance at his sailing-master and in turn at Captain
Robinson, who stood near him.
"It seemeth to me," remarked the master, "that we have lingered over
long."
"Ay," added Captain Robinson. "The delay hath cost Her Majesty her
goodliest ship and us our lives and our long-cherished honour."
"How so?" questioned Grenville, in the blunt direct tone which signified
his inward excitement.
Captain Robinson raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, and his fingers
played with the point of his well-trimmed black beard.
"Why," answered he in a seemingly careless tone, "methinks we are caught
in a very pretty trap, that is all." And then a new and earnest light
flashing in his beautiful blue eyes, he added: "Look you, Sir Richard,
we have but one way only. Let out your mainsail, sir, and cast about,
and trust to the sailing of the ship. She is ill-conditioned, 'tis true;
but 'twill go ill if we cannot even yet escape and join our squadron."
Sir Richard Grenville regarded him with a stern determined glance.
"What!" he cried. And then he laughed, and in a softer voice added: "No,
no. I never yet turned tail on devil or Don, nor will I do so now.
Rather would I die this day than dishonour myself, my country, or Her
Majesty's ship!" He strode slowly across the deck and as slowly
returned. Then he looked out over the rail at the approaching galleons.
They now appeared in two well-ordered squadrons on his weather-bow,
sailing down upon him between the two neighbour islands of Flores and
Corvo. "Truly they are a brave sight," he went on, "as gallant a sight
as mine eyes have rested upon these three years agone. But, mark you,
Master Robinson, I mean not to fly from them, not I. 'Tis one against
fifty-three, but, by thunder, I mean to adventure it! In despite of
their so great strength I intend to pass in betwixt those two squadrons
and force them to give me way!"
"Nay, 'tis impossible; 'twere rank madness to make the attempt," cried
the master. "Sure 'tis no dishonour to fly before such overwhelming
numbers. Cast about, sir, while yet there is time. Believe me, 'tis the
better course."
But Sir Richard Grenville would not be persuaded, and the word was
passed aft to the steersman to take the ship in between the two lines of
galleons.
It was at this moment that Gilbert Oglander showed himself before his
chief. He was about to ask some question, but Sir Richard cut him short.
"Bring me my casque, boy, and my breastplates and tassets, also my best
sword!" Then to the master he added: "Let beat the men to their fighting
quarters. Run out the guns, and let every one be manned by a brave son
of Devon that will stick to his post while there be powder to shoot and
ships to be shot."
None on board had expected this order. All were appalled by Sir
Richard's boldness. But when once the word had gone forth that there was
fighting to be done, there was not a man or a boy whose bodily health
permitted him who did not fly to his particular post with joy at the
thought of having it out with the hated Spaniards.
Already the _Revenge_ was drifting onward to meet her foes. With her
hundred eager fighting-men on her decks, and her ninety sick lying
unserviceable on the ballast, she slowly made her way into the narrow
channel between the oncoming galleons. The first four of them, either
awed by her boldness or else not quite prepared, permitted her to pass,
but immediately "sprang their luff" and fell under her lee, where they
contented themselves with firing a few shots into one of the English
victualling ships, the _George Noble_, of London, that with greater
spirit than might have been expected of so small a craft, had detached
herself from Her Majesty's ships and fallen behind to offer aid to the
hard-pressed _Revenge_. Her captain, scorning the few shots that had
rattled through his shrouds, now brought her under the _Revenge's_
counter and called out to Sir Richard Grenville, asking him for
commands.
"Nay, seek no commands of me," cried Grenville in reply. "But save
yourself, in God's name, while there be time. As for me, why, prithee,
leave me to my fortune. I can look after myself if any man can."
At this moment occurred the catastrophe which Captain Robinson and the
sailing-master had clearly foreseen. The great galleon, _San Philip_,
being to the windward of the _Revenge_, and coming speedily towards her,
becalmed her sails, which flapped loose, flattened against her masts,
hung down, and ceased to draw. The _Revenge_ lost the way that was upon
her, and she could neither move onward nor obey her helm. The _San
Philip_ was a huge and high-charged ship of fifteen hundred tons--three
times the burden of the _Revenge_,--carrying three tiers of ordnance on
a side, and eleven pieces in every tier. She had eight great guns
peeping out of her chase-ports, and from these she belched forth a
volley of cross-bar shot that crashed into Grenville's gallant little
ship, making her tremble in every plank, yet doing but slight mischief.
And at the same time the three galleons that were to his leeward luffed
up, and fired their forward guns into his rigging. These ships were all
high in the hull, and their guns were so trained that the shots passed
over the _Revenge's_ upper bulwarks, only severing a few ropes or
clipping some splinters of timber from off her masts and yards. One of
the nearest galleons was the admiral, or flag-ship, of the Biscayan
squadron, a very mighty and powerful vessel, commanded by the great
Spanish warrior Britandona.
Gilbert Oglander, as he strode towards the companion stairs after having
helped Sir Richard Grenville to don his body armour, glanced round at
the vast fleet of the enemy. Each galleon's decks and fighting-tops were
crowded with soldiers, whose morions and breastplates glistened in the
afternoon sun. On the _San Philip's_ decks there were, as he afterwards
estimated, no fewer than six or seven hundred soldiers, apart from her
seamen, and the others of the Spanish ships must certainly have been
equally well manned; while on the _Revenge_ there were no fighting-men
beside the mariners, excepting only the servants of her officers and
some few gentlemen volunteers like himself.
Already the dread sounds of battle greeted Gilbert's unaccustomed ears.
The loud rumbling roar of the cannons coming from the lumbering hulls
below was mingled with the sharp crackling of musketry from above, where
the Spaniards posted in the tops were firing in the hope of picking off
some of the English officers. The air was even at this early time
charged with a faint smell of burnt gunpowder. Gilbert did not pause to
watch the opening of the battle, but hastened down to the main-deck,
where, for the present, he was to occupy himself in helping the gunners
and carrying out the powder from the magazines.
Here, down below, he found Edward Webbe with his lighted lintlock coolly
glancing outward along the barrel of a great brass gun. There was no
need to take careful aim, for wheresoever the cannon might be fired its
contents of heavy shot were certain to strike into the oaken hull of one
of the galleons. Webbe applied his fuse, and the cannon flung forth its
spurt of fire with a thunderous boom that made the very deck shake and
the strained lashings creak. Along the whole space of the 'tween decks
and at both sides the gunners applied themselves to their work with
quiet and unruffled movements, and presently Edward Webbe gave up his
gun to another man and undertook the task of directing his shipmates in
the work, only peering out now and again through one of the portholes
to watch the movements of the enemy, as galleon after galleon came
within close range.
"Steady, my lads!" he cried, "and take good aim. Waste not a shot, but
mark well where it must find its home. Lower your gun's muzzle, Matthew
Giles," he said to one who was training his piece to fire against the
walls of one of the nearer galleons. "Take her below the water-line, and
sink her."
It was the great _San Philip_ that was alongside now. Having blocked out
the breeze from the _Revenge's_ sails by her own vast stretch of canvas,
she had forced herself full into the path of the English man-of-war, and
swung herself round broadside to broadside, with her grapplings ready to
hold her intended victim fast and so overpower her by superior strength,
and riddle her with shot until she should sink. This was just at three
o'clock in the afternoon, and forthwith the terrible and memorable
combat was begun in desperate earnest.
At the same time four other of the most formidable of the Spanish
galleons--the smallest of them double the size of the _Revenge_--drew
out to support the _San Philip_, and took up positions round Sir Richard
Grenville's ship, two on her larboard side, one astern of her, and the
fourth under her bows. And all five assailed her with a storm of iron
shot and heavy stone balls and langrage and cross-bar shot. The noise of
the discharge of so many guns was deafening to hear. But it was seen
that the greater number of the shots passed over her, so low in the hull
was she compared with the towering height of her enemies. Nevertheless
many a shot buried itself in her stout sides, many crashed through her
bulwarks, cut great pieces out of her masts, and tore her sails and
rigging. But her gallant flag of St George waved gloriously on high; her
men stuck to their work with ever-ripening courage, and small though she
was in the midst of her huge foes, she dealt them as much as they gave:
nay, even more than that, for she had British guns on board of her and
British men to fire them, and never a shot did they fire that did not
tell.
After the interchange of many volleys of great ordnance and small-shot,
the Spaniards, finding that the _Revenge_ still held her ground and
defended herself with so great determination, made an attempt to board
her, hoping to force her by the sheer multitude of their armed soldiers
and musketeers. The great _San Philip_ drew to close quarters. Her
bulging sides crunched against those of the _Revenge_, and a host of her
men clambered over her rails, pike and sword in hand, climbed into the
_Revenge's_ lower shrouds, and swarmed like so many infuriated bees
along her stout bulwarks at every point. But Ambrose Pennington, who had
control of the murderer-gun on the starboard side of Sir Richard's
quarter-deck, was ready at the moment with his fuse. He fired the gun,
and its scattering charge of small-shot played fearful havoc among the
would-be boarders, while those who escaped the destructive fire fell
either back between the ships or forward upon the deck of the _Revenge_,
where they were speedily overpowered.
Nor were the gunners below decks unmindful of their opportunity. At the
moment when the Spaniards were in the act of boarding, Edward Webbe had
every gun on his starboard side ready loaded with cross-bar shot and
primed. He gave the order, and his men applied their lintlocks, and the
full broadside was discharged straight into the _San Philip's_ hull.
After this she sheered off with all diligence from her too close
position, "utterly misliking her first entertainment". It was said
afterwards that the galleon foundered, but Sir Walter Raleigh in his
written account of the fight cast doubt upon the point. Howbeit, no
sooner had the _San Philip_ been cleared away than her position was
taken up by yet another galleon, only to be beaten off in like manner.
One after another they closed and boarded, one after another they were
flung back beaten and in confusion, their boarders being repulsed again
and again, taking refuge in their own ships or else falling into the
seas.
To tell every incident of this terrible battle would make a long story,
albeit the valour displayed by our English seamen on that great occasion
has no more glorious example in all the annals of our navy's history.
Hour after hour went by and still the _Revenge_ fought on with undaunted
courage. Many of her men were slain and many were hurt, and her surgeons
and their assistants were busy in the hold. Yet the Spaniards suffered
more. Early in the fight Don Louis Cutino, one of the admirals of
Seville, brought his galleon alongside in all her bravery, but he had
not fought for more than a quarter of an hour ere a broadside from the
_Revenge_ was fired point blank into his vessel's hull, sinking her with
all on board. And the same fate befell the powerful galleon, the
_Ascension_, of Seville, commanded by the Marquis of Arumburch. One
other galleon, sorely beaten, had yet strength to recover the roadstead
of the island of St. Michaels, where she quickly followed her anchor to
the bottom. A fourth, to save her men, was run aground on Flores.
All through that hot August afternoon the _Revenge_ fought on, and as
each galleon was driven off another pushed in to relieve her beaten
consort and to renew the attack upon the stubborn little English
man-of-war, who withstood it all with her hundred men on board,
resisting all comers. With never fewer than two mighty galleons by her
side, she fought to the death, single-handed.
The Spaniards had an unlimited reserve. They could not all hope to empty
their guns into their heroic little foe, but they crowded round, ever
near, to supply the attacking ships when needed with fresh soldiers,
all manner of arms, and with powder and shot in plenty. To the _Revenge_
there remained no such comfort, no supply of either ships or men or
weapons, and, alas! no hope.