Armada

If the English wished to defeat the Spanish Armada they would have to close and board, thus putting themselves within reach and Evardo smiled involuntarily as he thought of that moment, that brief second after the broadside was fired into an enemy ship, when his entire crew would be poised to follow his command to board. Nearly a third of the soldiers on board were armed with muskets while the remainder carried arquebuses. From the towering castles of the Santa Clara they would bring down a rain of hellfire upon the English while others fired the two swivel-mounted falconetes and twelve wrought iron breech loading falcon pedreros. Ceramic pots filled with gunpowder, spirits and resin, would be set with lighted fuses and cast into any knots of resistance while the dreaded bombas, wooden tubes filled with gunpowder and grapeshot, would scatter the enemy and clear them from the gunwales.

Only then would Evardo give the order. The enemy ship would be secured with grappling hooks, sealing the fate of the English crew, and with a war-cry that Evardo could almost hear, the crew of the Santa Clara would storm over the gunwales, cutting down any who stood in their way, cleansing the ship of its heretic crew.

Again Evardo smiled, only now it was a cold sneer that did not reach his eyes. In his mind he was leading his men onto the Retribution and before him stood the man who had come to symbolize his fight against the English, Robert Varian. He would be the first to fall. But he would not be the last. The battle would not end until the English fleet had been swept from the Channel, until the Army of Flanders had made their crossing and the Armada was sailing up the Thames estuary. Only then would victory be assured, for God and Spain.

‘Patache approaching off the starboard beam,’ Evardo heard and he went aloft to see the approaching ship. It was small boat, lightly armed with only fifty men on board. It was one of a squadron of such craft that carried dispatches and supplies between the larger vessels. The patache came alongside and Evardo’s commander, de Valdés, came on board followed by four men, one of them a priest.

‘Comandante Morales,’ de Valdés said, moving aside to allow the others to step forward. ‘I would like to introduce you to some guests of his majesty’s Armada who will be sailing with you on the Santa Clara.’

Evardo nodded genially and looked to the four men. He had expected this arrival for he had learned from other comandantes that such guests were sailing on nearly every ship of the fleet.

‘This is Padre Ignacio Garza,’ de Valdés began, indicating the priest. ‘He will conduct mass for the ship’s company once a week and tend to the spiritual needs of your crew.’

‘You are most welcome, Padre Garza,’ Evardo said sincerely and bowed his head to receive a simple blessing from the priest. He took strength from the Latin words of the benediction and recited in his mind the exhortation, written by a Jesuit in Lisbon, that had been circulated throughout the fleet; ‘We are not going on a difficult enterprise, because God our Lord, whose cause and most holy faith we defend, will go ahead, and with such a Captain we have nothing to fear.’

God supported the Armada’s mission to restore Catholic rule to England. King Philip and Medina Sidonia had declared this fact in every communiqué and Pope Sixtus V had issued a special indulgence to all who sailed in the Spanish fleet.

‘These two gentlemen,’ de Valdés continued, ‘are Irish nobles, Maurice Fitzgibbon and Diarmuid McCarthy. They were forced to flee their native land after the defeat of the Earl of Desmond’s glorious rebellion.’

Evardo nodded to both men and welcomed them to the Santa Clara. They replied in deplorable Spanish and seemed ill at ease on board ship but Evardo could see they possessed the wariness of hardened fighters. They would not be a burden in the battle ahead.

‘And finally,’ de Valdés said, indicating the last man, ‘I would like to introduce his grace, the Duke of Greyfarne, Nathaniel Young.’

Evardo nodded courteously.

‘Welcome on board, your grace.’

The duke replied in near flawless Spanish but his accent jarred and Evardo hid his innate dislike for the Englishman behind a genial smile.

‘The Duke will act as one of the interpreters and guides for the invasion army,’ de Valdés explained, ‘and will also assist you in the interrogation of any prisoners you take in battle.’