A Dutch fleet under Heemskerk sent to the coast of Spain and
Portugal--Encounter with the Spanish war fleet under D'Avila--Death
of both commanders-in-chief--Victory of the Netherlanders--Massacre
of the Spaniards.
The States-General had not been inclined to be tranquil under the check
which Admiral Haultain had received upon the coast of Spain in the autumn
of 1606. The deed of terrible self-devotion by which Klaaszoon and his
comrades had in that crisis saved the reputation of the republic, had
proved that her fleets needed only skilful handling and determined
leaders to conquer their enemy in the Western seas as certainly as they
had done in the archipelagos of the East. And there was one pre-eminent
naval commander, still in the very prime of life, but seasoned by an
experience at the poles and in the tropics such as few mariners in that
early but expanding maritime epoch could boast. Jacob van Heemskerk,
unlike many of the navigators and ocean warriors who had made and were
destined to make the Orange flag of the United Provinces illustrious over
the world, was not of humble parentage. Sprung of an ancient, knightly
race, which had frequently distinguished itself in his native province of
Holland, he had followed the seas almost from his cradle. By turns a
commercial voyager, an explorer, a privateer's-man, or an admiral of
war-fleets, in days when sharp distinctions between the merchant service
and the public service, corsairs' work and cruisers' work, did not exist,
he had ever proved himself equal to any emergency--a man incapable of
fatigue, of perplexity, or of fear. We have followed his career during
that awful winter in Nova Zembla, where, with such unflinching cheerful
heroism, he sustained the courage of his comrades--the first band of
scientific martyrs that had ever braved the dangers and demanded the
secrets of those arctic regions. His glorious name--as those of so many
of his comrades and countrymen--has been rudely torn from cape,
promontory, island, and continent, once illustrated by courage and
suffering, but the noble record will ever remain.
Subsequently he had much navigated the Indian ocean; his latest
achievement having been, with two hundred men, in a couple of yachts, to
capture an immense Portuguese carrack, mounting thirty guns, and manned
with eight hundred sailors, and to bring back a prodigious booty for the
exchequer of the republic. A man with delicate features, large brown
eyes, a thin high nose, fair hair and beard, and a soft, gentle
expression, he concealed, under a quiet exterior, and on ordinary
occasions a very plain and pacific costume, a most daring nature, and an
indomitable ambition for military and naval distinction.
He was the man of all others in the commonwealth to lead any new
enterprise that audacity could conceive against the hereditary enemy.
The public and the States-General were anxious to retrace the track of
Haultain, and to efface the memory of his inglorious return from the
Spanish coast. The sailors of Holland and Zeeland were indignant that the
richly freighted fleets of the two Indies had been allowed to slip so
easily through their fingers. The great East India Corporation was
importunate with Government that such blunders should not be repeated,
and that the armaments known to be preparing in the Portuguese ports, the
homeward-bound fleets that might be looked for at any moment off the
peninsular coast, and the Spanish cruisers which were again preparing to
molest the merchant fleets of the Company, should be dealt with
effectively and in season.
Twenty-six vessels of small size but of good sailing qualities, according
to the idea of the epoch, were provided, together with four tenders. Of
this fleet the command was offered to Jacob van Heemskerk. He accepted
with alacrity, expressing with his usual quiet self-confidence the hope
that, living or dead, his fatherland would have cause to thank him.
Inspired only by the love of glory, he asked for no remuneration for his
services save thirteen per cent. of the booty, after half a million
florins should have been paid into the public treasury. It was hardly
probable that this would prove a large share of prize money, while
considerable victories alone could entitle him to receive a stiver.
The expedition sailed in the early days of April for the coast of Spain
and Portugal, the admiral having full discretion to do anything that
might in his judgment redound to the advantage of the republic. Next in
command was the vice-admiral of Zeeland, Laurenz Alteras. Another famous
seaman in the fleet was Captain Henry Janszoon of Amsterdam, commonly
called Long Harry, while the weather-beaten and well-beloved Admiral
Lambert, familiarly styled by his countrymen "Pretty Lambert," some of
whose achievements have already been recorded in these pages, was the
comrade of all others upon whom Heemskerk most depended. After the 10th
April the admiral, lying off and on near the mouth of the Tagus, sent a
lugger in trading disguise to reconnoitre that river. He ascertained by
his spies, sent in this and subsequently in other directions, as well as
by occasional merchantmen spoken with at sea, that the Portuguese fleet
for India would not be ready to sail for many weeks; that no valuable
argosies were yet to be looked for from America, but that a great
war-fleet, comprising many galleons of the largest size, was at that very
moment cruising in the Straits of Gibraltar. Such of the Netherland
traders as were returning from the Levant, as well as those designing to
enter the Mediterranean, were likely to fall prizes to this formidable
enemy. The heart of Jacob Heemskerk danced for joy. He had come forth for
glory, not for booty, and here was what he had scarcely dared to hope
for--a powerful antagonist instead of peaceful, scarcely resisting, but
richly-laden merchantmen. The accounts received were so accurate as to
assure him that the Gibraltar fleet was far superior to his own in size
of vessels, weight of metal, and number of combatants. The circumstances
only increased his eagerness. The more he was over-matched, the greater
would be the honour of victory, and he steered for the straits, tacking
to and fro in the teeth of a strong head-wind.
On the morning of the 25th April he was in the narrowest part of the
mountain-channel, and learned that the whole Spanish fleet was in the Bay
of Gibraltar.
The marble pillar of Hercules rose before him. Heemskerk was of a poetic
temperament, and his imagination was inflamed by the spectacle which met
his eyes. Geographical position, splendour of natural scenery, immortal
fable, and romantic history, had combined to throw a spell over that
region. It seemed marked out for perpetual illustration by human valour.
The deeds by which, many generations later, those localities were to
become identified with the fame of a splendid empire--then only the most
energetic rival of the young republic, but destined under infinitely
better geographical conditions to follow on her track of empire, and with
far more prodigious results--were still in the womb of futurity. But St.
Vincent, Trafalgar, Gibraltar--words which were one day to stir the
English heart, and to conjure heroic English shapes from the depths so
long as history endures--were capes and promontories already familiar to
legend and romance.
Those Netherlanders had come forth from their slender little fatherland
to offer battle at last within his own harbours and under his own
fortresses to the despot who aspired to universal monarchy, and who
claimed the lordship of the seas. The Hollanders and Zeelanders had
gained victories on the German Ocean, in the Channel, throughout the
Indies, but now they were to measure strength with the ancient enemy in
this most conspicuous theatre, and before the eyes of Christendom. It was
on this famous spot that the ancient demigod had torn asunder by main
strength the continents of Europe and Africa. There stood the opposite
fragments of the riven mountain-chain, Calpe and Abyla, gazing at each
other, in eternal separation, across the gulf, emblems of those two
antagonistic races which the terrible hand of Destiny has so ominously
disjoined. Nine centuries before, the African king, Moses son of Nuzir,
and his lieutenant, Tarik son of Abdallah, had crossed that strait and
burned the ships which brought them. Black Africa had conquered a portion
of whiter Europe, and laid the foundation of the deadly mutual repugnance
which nine hundred years of bloodshed had heightened into insanity of
hatred. Tarik had taken the town and mountain, Carteia and Calpe, and
given to both his own name. Gib-al-Tarik, the cliff of Tarik, they are
called to this day.
Within the two horns of that beautiful bay, and protected by the fortress
on the precipitous rock, lay the Spanish fleet at anchor. There were ten
galleons of the largest size, besides lesser war-vessels and carracks, in
all twenty-one sail. The admiral commanding was Don Juan Alvarez d'Avila,
a veteran who had fought at Lepanto under Don John of Austria. His son
was captain of his flag-ship, the St. Augustine. The vice-admiral's
galleon was called 'Our Lady of La Vega,' the rear-admiral's was the
'Mother of God,' and all the other ships were baptized by the holy names
deemed most appropriate, in the Spanish service, to deeds of carnage.
On the other hand, the nomenclature of the Dutch ships suggested a
menagerie. There was the Tiger, the Sea Dog, the Griffin, the Red Lion,
the Golden Lion, the Black Bear, the White Bear; these, with the AEolus
and the Morning Star, were the leading vessels of the little fleet.
On first attaining a distant view of the enemy, Heemskerk summoned all
the captains on board his flag-ship, the AEolus, and addressed them in a
few stirring words.
"It is difficult," he said, "for Netherlanders not to conquer on salt
water. Our fathers have gained many a victory in distant seas, but it is
for us to tear from the enemy's list of titles his arrogant appellation
of Monarch of the Ocean. Here, on the verge of two continents, Europe is
watching our deeds, while the Moors of Africa are to learn for the first
time in what estimation they are to hold the Batavian republic. Remember
that you have no choice between triumph and destruction. I have led you
into a position whence escape is impossible--and I ask of none of you
more than I am prepared to do myself--whither I am sure that you will
follow. The enemy's ships are far superior to ours in bulk; but remember
that their excessive size makes them difficult to handle and easier to
hit, while our own vessels are entirely within control. Their decks are
swarming with men, and thus there will be more certainty that our shot
will take effect. Remember, too, that we are all sailors, accustomed from
our cradles to the ocean; while yonder Spaniards are mainly soldiers and
landsmen, qualmish at the smell of bilgewater, and sickening at the roll
of the waves. This day begins a long list of naval victories, which will
make our fatherland for ever illustrious, or lay the foundation of an
honourable peace, by placing, through our triumph, in the hands of the
States-General, the power of dictating its terms."
His comrades long remembered the enthusiasm which flashed from the man,
usually so gentle and composed in demeanour, so simple in attire. Clad in
complete armour, with the orange-plumes waving from his casque and the
orange-scarf across his breast, he stood there in front of the mainmast
of the AEolus, the very embodiment of an ancient Viking.
He then briefly announced his plan of attack. It was of antique
simplicity. He would lay his own ship alongside that of the Spanish
admiral. Pretty Lambert in the Tiger was to grapple with her on the other
side. Vice-admiral Alteras and Captain Bras were to attack the enemy's
vice-admiral in the same way. Thus, two by two, the little Netherland
ships were to come into closest quarters with each one of the great
galleons. Heemskerk would himself lead the way, and all were to follow,
as closely as possible, in his wake. The oath to stand by each other was
then solemnly renewed, and a parting health was drunk. The captains then
returned to their ships.
As the Lepanto warrior, Don Juan d'Avila, saw the little vessels slowly
moving towards him, he summoned a Hollander whom he had on board, one
Skipper Gevaerts of a captured Dutch trading bark, and asked him whether
those ships in the distance were Netherlanders.
"Not a doubt of it," replied the skipper.
The admiral then asked him what their purpose could possibly be, in
venturing so near Gibraltar.
"Either I am entirely mistaken in my countrymen," answered Gevaerta, "or
they are coming for the express purpose of offering you battle."
The Spaniard laughed loud and long. The idea that those puny vessels
could be bent on such a purpose seemed to him irresistibly comic, and he
promised his prisoner, with much condescension, that the St. Augustine
alone should sink the whole fleet.
Gevaerts, having his own ideas on the subject, but not being called upon
to express them, thanked the admiral for his urbanity, and respectfully
withdrew.
At least four thousand soldiers were in D'Avila's ships, besides seamen.
there were seven hundred in the St. Augustine, four hundred and fifty in
Our Lady of Vega, and so on in proportion. There were also one or two
hundred noble volunteers who came thronging on board, scenting the battle
from afar, and desirous of having a hand in the destruction of the
insolent Dutchmen.
It was about one in the afternoon. There was not much wind, but the
Hollanders, slowly drifting on the eternal river that pours from the
Atlantic into the Mediterranean, were now very near. All hands had been
piped on board every one of the ships, all had gone down on their knees
in humble prayer, and the loving cup had then been passed around.
Heemskerk, leading the way towards the Spanish admiral, ordered the
gunners of the bolus not to fire until the vessels struck each other.
"Wait till you hear it crack," he said, adding a promise of a hundred
florins to the man who should pull down the admiral's flag. Avila,
notwithstanding his previous merriment, thought it best, for the moment,
to avoid the coming collision. Leaving to other galleons, which he
interposed between himself and the enemy, the task of summarily sinking
the Dutch fleet, he cut the cable of the St. Augustine and drifted
farther into the bay. Heemskerk, not allowing himself to be foiled in his
purpose, steered past two or three galleons, and came crashing against
the admiral. Almost simultaneously, Pretty Lambert laid himself along her
quarter on the other side. The St. Augustine fired into the AEolus as she
approached, but without doing much damage. The Dutch admiral, as he was
coming in contact, discharged his forward guns, and poured an effective
volley of musketry into his antagonist.
The St. Augustine fired again, straight across the centre of the bolus,
at a few yards' distance. A cannon-ball took off the head of a sailor,
standing near Heemskerk, and carried away the admiral's leg, close to the
body. He fell on deck, and, knowing himself to be mortally wounded,
implored the next in command on board, Captain Verhoef, to fight his ship
to the last, and to conceal his death from the rest of the fleet. Then
prophesying a glorious victory for republic, and piously commending his
soul to his Maker, he soon breathed his last. A cloak was thrown over
him, and the battle raged. The few who were aware that the noble
Heemskerk was gone, burned to avenge his death, and to obey the dying
commands of their beloved chief. The rest of the Hollanders believed
themselves under his directing influence, and fought as if his eyes were
upon them. Thus the spirit of the departed hero still watched over and
guided the battle.
The AEolus now fired a broadside into her antagonist, making fearful
havoc, and killing Admiral D'Avila. The commanders-in-chief of both
contending fleets had thus fallen at the very beginning of the battle.
While the St. Augustine was engaged in deadly encounter, yardarm and
yardarm, with the AEolus and the Tiger, Vice-admiral Alteras had,
however, not carried out his part of the plan. Before he could succeed in
laying himself alongside of the Spanish vice-admiral, he had been
attacked by two galleons. Three other Dutch ships, however, attacked the
vice-admiral, and, after an obstinate combat, silenced all her batteries
and set her on fire. Her conquerors were then obliged to draw off rather
hastily, and to occupy themselves for a time in extinguishing their own
burning sails, which had taken fire from the close contact with their
enemy. Our Lady of Vega, all ablaze from top-gallant-mast to quarterdeck,
floated helplessly about, a spectre of flame, her guns going off wildly,
and her crew dashing themselves into the sea, in order to escape by
drowning from a fiery death. She was consumed to the water's edge.
Meantime, Vice-admiral Alteras had successively defeated both his
antagonists; drifting in with them until almost under the guns of the
fortress, but never leaving them until, by his superior gunnery and
seamanship, he had sunk one of them, and driven the other a helpless
wreck on shore.
Long Harry, while Alteras had been thus employed, had engaged another
great galleon, and set her on fire. She, too, was thoroughly burned to
her hulk; but Admiral Harry was killed.
By this time, although it was early of an April afternoon, and heavy
clouds of smoke, enveloping the combatants pent together in so small a
space, seemed to make an atmosphere of midnight, as the flames of the
burning galleons died away. There was a difficulty, too, in bringing all
the Netherland ships into action--several of the smaller ones having been
purposely stationed by Heemskerk on the edge of the bay to prevent the
possible escape of any of the Spaniards. While some of these distant
ships were crowding sail, in order to come to closer quarters, now that
the day seemed going against the Spaniards, a tremendous explosion
suddenly shook the air. One of the largest galleons, engaged in combat
with a couple of Dutch vessels, had received a hot shot full in her
powder magazine, and blew up with all on board. The blazing fragments
drifted about among the other ships, and two more were soon on fire,
their guns going off and their magazines exploding. The rock of Gibraltar
seemed to reel. To the murky darkness succeeded the intolerable glare of
a new and vast conflagration. The scene in that narrow roadstead was now
almost infernal. It seemed, said an eye-witness, as if heaven and earth
were passing away. A hopeless panic seized the Spaniards. The battle was
over. The St. Augustine still lay in the deadly embrace of her
antagonists, but all the other galleons were sunk or burned. Several of
the lesser war-ships had also been destroyed. It was nearly sunset. The
St. Augustine at last ran up a white flag, but it was not observed in the
fierceness of the last moments of combat; the men from the bolus and the
Tiger making a simultaneous rush on board the vanquished foe.
The fight was done, but the massacre was at its beginning. The trumpeter,
of Captain Kleinsorg clambered like a monkey up the mast of the St.
Augustine, hauled down the admiral's flag, the last which was still
waving, and gained the hundred florins. The ship was full of dead and
dying; but a brutal, infamous butchery now took place. Some Netherland
prisoners were found in the hold, who related that two messengers had
been successively despatched to take their lives, as they lay there in
chains, and that each had been shot, as he made his way towards the
execution of the orders.
This information did not chill the ardour of their victorious countrymen.
No quarter was given. Such of the victims as succeeded in throwing
themselves overboard, out of the St. Augustine, or any of the burning or
sinking ships, were pursued by the Netherlanders, who rowed about among
them in boats, shooting, stabbing, and drowning their victims by
hundreds. It was a sickening spectacle. The bay, said those who were
there, seemed sown with corpses. Probably two or three thousand were thus
put to death, or had met their fate before. Had the chivalrous Heemskerk
lived, it is possible that he might have stopped the massacre. But the
thought of the grief which would fill the commonwealth when the news
should arrive of his death--thus turning the joy of the great triumph
into lamentations--increased the animosity of his comrades. Moreover, in
ransacking the Spanish admiral's ship, all his papers had been found,
among them many secret instructions from Government signed "the King;"
ordering most inhuman persecutions, not only of the Netherlanders, but of
all who should in any way assist them, at sea or ashore. Recent examples
of the thorough manner in which the royal admirals could carry out these
bloody instructions had been furnished by the hangings, burnings, and
drownings of Fazardo. But the barbarous ferocity of the Dutch on this
occasion might have taught a lesson even to the comrades of Alva.
The fleet of Avila was entirely destroyed. The hulk of the St. Augustine
drifted ashore, having been abandoned by the victors, and was set on fire
by a few Spaniards who had concealed themselves on board, lest she might
fall again into the enemy's hands.
The battle had lasted from half-past three until sunset. The Dutch
vessels remained all the next day on the scene of their triumph. The
townspeople were discerned, packing up their goods, and speeding
panic-struck into the interior. Had Heemskerk survived he would doubtless
have taken Gibraltar--fortress and town--and perhaps Cadiz, such was the
consternation along the whole coast.
But his gallant spirit no longer directed the fleet. Bent rather upon
plunder than glory, the ships now dispersed in search of prizes towards
the Azores, the Canaries, or along the Portuguese coast; having first
made a brief visit to Tetuan, where they were rapturously received by the
Bey.
The Hollanders lost no ships, and but one hundred seamen were killed. Two
vessels were despatched homeward directly, one with sixty wounded
sailors, the other with the embalmed body of the fallen Heemskerk. The
hero was honoured with a magnificent funeral in Amsterdam at the public
expense--the first instance in the history of the republic--and his name
was enrolled on the most precious page of her records.
[The chief authorities for this remarkable battle are Meteren, 547,
548. Grotius, xvi. 731-738. Wagenaar, ix. 251-258.]