Armada

‘They would have,’ de Cordoba replied. ‘Had El Gran Grifon been a little further adrift of the main fleet.’

Nathaniel made to reply but Evardo silenced him with his hand, his brow creasing in thought. He turned on his heel and left the cabin without another word, making his way aloft. He called for the nearest zabra to be hailed and boarded her as she came alongside.

‘The San Martin, quick as you can.’

The zabra spun around and began to weave through the larger capital ships and transports while Evardo anxiously paced the deck, his head bowed in thought.

‘The San Martin, Comandante.’

Evardo called up for permission to board and went directly to Medina Sidonia’s cabin. The duke was inside with many of his senior officers, including de Recalde and de Leiva, standing around a large chart table.

‘Your grace,’ Evardo said. ‘I need to speak with you.’

Medina Sidonia looked up. He was a short, stocky man, and was one of the youngest in the room. He was heavily bearded and though his face was drawn with lines of fatigue his eyes were alert.

‘Comandante Morales,’ he said. ‘This is a closed meeting. Might I trust that what you have to say can wait until afterwards?’

‘What I have to suggest is of vital import, your grace.’

Medina Sidonia lightly fingered the insignia of the Golden Fleece that hung around his neck. ‘Very well, Comandante.’

Evardo stepped up to the table. ‘This morning, as you all know, El Gran Grifon was set upon by a pack of English warships because she was adrift of the fleet. Only the courageous actions of others saved her from capture. But what if the ships that extracted El Gran Grifon had not been able to reach her? What if she had been completely isolated?’

‘Then the English would have taken her as they did the San Salvador and the Rosario,’ de Recalde said.

‘But they could not because the fighting ships of the Armada were within reach,’ Evardo said.

‘So you believe if El Gran Grifon had been out of our reach she would have been boarded by the English?’ Medina Sidonia asked.

‘Or if the English had perceived she was out of our reach,’ Evardo said.

‘Bait,’ de Recalde said with a smile. ‘Comandante Morales is suggesting that we lure the English into a close quarter action with bait.’

‘But the King has said we must not delay our advance with a general engagement,’ de Moncada said to Medina Sidonia.

‘We only need to bloody their nose, your grace,’ de Recalde countered. ‘The English are sure to take the bait and try to board the straggler. If we swoop down and capture some of their capital ships they might become less daring in their attacks.’

‘Over sixty of my crew on El Gran Grifon were killed in this morning’s action,’ Juan Gomez de Medina cautioned. ‘Any ship adrift of the fleet for longer would pay a heavy coin for the prize of capturing some English warships.’

‘I believe it is a price worth paying,’ Evardo said. ‘I volunteer the Santa Clara as bait. She is a warship and therefore better suited to the task. Once grappled we could defend her upper decks until reinforcements arrived.’

The senior officers began to discuss the proposal in detail, with those for and against making their arguments to the duke.

After some minutes Medina Sidonia raised his hand for silence. His instructions were to avoid engaging with the English fleet if at all possible. However he had already contravened those instructions when he ordered the fleet to attack off Portland Bill. He had deemed that attack to be tactically necessary and could defend his decision. He considered Morale’s plan one last time. It could be argued that tactically an ambush would be to the Armada’s ultimate advantage.

‘I have heard enough,’ he began. ‘We rendezvous with Parma within days. That is our primary mission. But I agree that our chances of success will be greatly increased if we can first inflict some casualties on the English fleet and gain some sea-room to windward. Your plan is approved, Comandante Morales.’

‘Thank you, your grace.’

‘Might I make one amendment?’ de Leiva asked, forestalling Evardo’s departure. ‘A single ship might be too easily overwhelmed before reinforcements arrive.’

‘We will hold,’ Evardo replied.

‘I do not doubt your resolution or that of your crew, Comandante. But for the plan to succeed, no ship will be able to advance to your aid until after the English have clapped sides. I believe two ships together would stand a better chance.’

Medina Sidonia considered the proposal. With no experience of naval warfare to draw upon he quickly deferred to one of his most trusted advisors.

‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘I will call for a volunteer from my own squadron of Portugal to act as the second. Don de Leiva, you will be in charge of the reinforcements.’

‘Yes, your grace.’

‘Then it is settled. Comandante, a ship from my squadron will seek you out before dusk. After dark you will both lay to and fall off from the fleet. With luck and God’s favour tomorrow will see the Armada claim its first prizes.’

Evardo nodded. He glanced around the room, looking each senior commander in the eye for a moment before withdrawing from the cabin.

CHAPTER 17

5 a.m. 4th August 1588. The English Channel, off Dunnose Point.

‘Quarterdeck, ho! Enemy stragglers a mile off the larboard bow!’

‘All hands, battle stations,’ Robert shouted, running to the fo’c’sle where he was joined by Seeley. Off the larboard bow was the shadowy coastline of the Isle of Wight. The Armada was close to Dunnose Point, the most southerly point on the island and from there the coast swept inward to the eastern entrance to the Solent. The two Spanish galleons were in close support of each other but completely isolated from the Armada’s defensive formation. It was a perfect opportunity and Hawkins’s squadron was closest to the prize, however just before dawn the westerly breeze had died away.

‘Where is the cursed wind?’ Seeley spat.

‘Coxswain! Launch the longboat,’ Robert shouted over his shoulder. He turned to Seeley. ‘If we’ve no wind, Thomas, then we’ll just have to use brawn. Cast a line from the bow to the longboat and hail any oared coasters nearby. Tell them we need a tow.’

‘Aye, Captain,’ Seeley said with a wry smile and left the fo’c’sle.

Robert wondered how the isolated galleons could have got so far out of formation. One or both of them must have encountered some problem. Either way they were a prize worth pursuing. The commander of the Victory had come to the same conclusion and had already lowered his ship’s boat. The two Spanish galleons would soon be under English guns.

‘I count at least a dozen.’ Nathaniel was standing amidst the senior officers on the quarterdeck.

Evardo smiled. The English were as predictable as the rising of the sun. They had taken the bait regardless of the conditions. Fifty yards off the starboard beam the San Luis, an 830 ton galleon of the Portuguese squadron under Comandante Mexia, was readying for action.

In the distance the crescent formation that had carried the Armada thus far was no more. It was widely suspected that the English had a second squadron of warships further along the coast operating out of Dover and so the fleet was now arrayed in a new formation, one that had been devised to allow for a running defence should the Armada be attacked from the front or behind. It was more rounded, with a strong vanguard led by the flagship and a rearguard commanded by de Recalde and de Leiva. The transport and auxiliary ships were in the centre.

‘All hands to their posts, mis capitanes,’ Evardo said. ‘Prepare to repel