The Golden Galleon Part 26

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 s.h.i.+p were away on sh.o.r.e, lying sick, while a large part of the remainder were busy collecting ballast and getting water. On board most of the s.h.i.+ps only a few officers and s.h.i.+p-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 ash.o.r.e, knowing that it was his duty to remain behind with his s.h.i.+p 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-s.h.i.+p well in the way of getting on board, he pa.s.sed 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 n.o.ble_, and the other smaller s.h.i.+ps. 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 prompt.i.tude.

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 sh.o.r.e the admiral himself had not been idle. It was too late now to think of ballasting his s.h.i.+ps, 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p that Sir George Cary had sent out with the expedition, while Sir George Cary's s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 ash.o.r.e, 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 s.h.i.+pped the last of his crew, who, if he had left them on sh.o.r.e, 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 bra.s.s 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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 flas.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+p. 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 s.h.i.+p!" 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed aft to the steersman to take the s.h.i.+p 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 ta.s.sets, 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 pa.s.s, 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 s.h.i.+ps, the _George n.o.ble_, of London, that with greater spirit than might have been expected of so small a craft, had detached herself from Her Majesty's s.h.i.+ps 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 G.o.d'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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+ps were all high in the hull, and their guns were so trained that the shots pa.s.sed 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-s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 bra.s.s 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 las.h.i.+ngs creak. Along the whole s.p.a.ce 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 s.h.i.+pmates 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 s.h.i.+p, two on her larboard side, one astern of her, and the fourth under her bows. And all five a.s.sailed her with a storm of iron shot and heavy stone b.a.l.l.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 mult.i.tude 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 a.s.sistants 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps or men or weapons, and, alas! no hope.

CHAPTER XX.

THE LAST FIGHT OF THE "REVENGE".

Once, indeed, in the course of the fight, an English s.h.i.+p appeared, brave and willing to offer her small help.

Towards sunset, during a momentary lull in the storm of battle, while one of the broken and battered Spanish s.h.i.+ps was being cleared away from the ceaseless fury of the English guns, Jacob Hartop left the little bra.s.s falcon gun on the forecastle, at which he had stood for four terrible hours, and went down for a drink of water. A musket-shot had struck him in the thigh, and he was somewhat faint. He limped within the doorway of the seamen's quarters. A dozen men were in this shelter, some binding up their wounds, some resting and gathering breath before going out again upon the decks, others patiently waiting for their turn with the water-dipper.

Jacob's eyes surveyed them, pa.s.sing slowly from one face to another. He nodded to one, gave a cheering smile to another, and helped a third to tie a knot in the kerchief which he was binding over his arm.

"What say you, my masters?" said he. "This be life, eh? This be tasting glory!"

"Ah--h!" breathed Jeff Dimsdale, the man who was taking the dipper from young Robin Redfern. "'Tis such glory as might fill many of our friends at home with envy. May I taste more on't ere I be like Tom Wilson that's down below on the ballast with a bullet in his honest heart!" He raised the water to his pale lips. "Tom would ha' given a deal for this drop o'

water, I reckon," he said. Then, still hesitating to drink, he added: "Here's to Queen Bess, G.o.d bless her!"

Drinking the water at one long draught, he silently handed the dipper back to Robin and pa.s.sed out into the open.