The Pirate Queen (45 page)

S
ince the autumn of 1583, Philip had been plotting and planning the “Enterprise of England” that had been urged for so long by his admiral, the Marquis of Santa Cruz, and other mariners. But it was only in the spring of 1585 that most of the pieces on the chessboard had been moved into place. Parma’s merciless war of attrition against the Dutch rebels was entering its endgame. Antwerp would buckle. The powerful Guise faction in France was in the King of Spain’s pay, and had mounted another failed attempt on Elizabeth’s life in 1583, increasing the pressure on the heretic queen by stoking the fires of Catholic discontent at home with her harsh retaliatory measures. The year 1584 progressed Santa Cruz’s scheme through the assassination of William of Orange, along with the rout and death of Anjou. Still, Philip was nervous. There had been little, if any, news of Drake. What was he up to? What was the she-devil Elizabeth planning? Since the expulsion of Mendoza in 1582, he had to admit that the quality of his intelligence had suffered dramatically.

Mountains of official papers littered his desk, among them Santa Cruz’s plan for the Armada. Though well advanced in age, nothing happened anywhere in Spain’s empire without Philip reviewing it on his gigantic desk. Into the small hours of the morning, the King of Spain pored over his papers, looking for alternative strategic plans. As he rustled through them with his arthritic hands, he hoped fruitlessly to discover a panacea for the Queen of England’s dragon, Drake, hidden somewhere in their texts. All he needed to do was to
give the order. And yet he waited. Santa Cruz must be ready. Or was he? How could he allow Santa Cruz to sail from Lisbon with the Armada without backup from Parma in Holland? Surely it would be useful to make a two-pronged attack to include the Duke of Parma? But Parma was slow in subduing the Dutch, and Antwerp had not as yet fallen. What would the Queen of England do about her Dutch Protestant brethren? Philip worried these issues whether strolling in his gardenia fragranced gardens at the Escorial, or by candlelight among his masses of dispatches. Still, a clear and divine reply would not answer his myriad questions.

But he needn’t have worried long. Word soon reached Philip that Elizabeth had suspended trade with the Spanish Netherlands. It was a small sign, but a sign nonetheless of her intentions. It is easy to imagine the wily king smiling to himself at her poor timing. A plea for help had gone out to provide food for his people who had had yet another year of failed harvests followed by a harsh winter. The French, English, and many countries that had Baltic ports had responded generously with grain shipments. But with the number of English ships in Spanish-held harbors, Philip could take much of Elizabeth’s merchant shipping, and weaken any response she might make to him back home. Philip believed the time was ripe to flex his muscles, and he gave the order to seize all foreign shipping.

But he hadn’t reckoned on the escape of the
Primrose
in May, or her master’s seizure of two of his henchmen in Galicia. They were, of course, interrogated by Walsingham’s finest men and sang like canaries. Not only did they sing, but they also held a copy of the king’s orders. When these were shown to Elizabeth, endorsed personally by the King of Spain, her rage must have been felt throughout the court. She had dithered about war since, in Machiavelli’s words, “it was a gamble,” but she could no longer shy away from its inevitability.

The Privy Council discussed little else over the coming weeks, and when the Dutch envoys appeared at court begging for the queen and her men to send relief hurriedly to Antwerp, she agreed. She also invited Philip’s “thorn,” Dom Antonio, to return to England in June. Drake had suggested—not for the first time—that they take the battle to Spain and invade first, and the thought no doubt titillated the queen and many of her adventurers.
¹
But her courtiers knew that
Drake’s entreaties wouldn’t be heard. The Queen of England almost never acted rashly or decisively, and yet, at least this time, she had acted. While she negotiated suitable terms to support the Dutch, she unleashed Drake along the Galician coast to try to recover as many Englishmen and ships as he possibly could. Her royal commission was signed on July 1, 1585, granting him and any merchants who had experienced losses in the latest treachery the “right of reprisal.” It was a royal warrant to plunder—not only along the northern coast of Spain—but anywhere, anytime, and against anyone on Spanish territory.

Meanwhile, Philip had perhaps realized his error in acting so hastily. By August, the Treaty of Nonsuch was signed for the English to relieve the beleaguered Dutch, but by then it was too late for Antwerp. Parma had razed the once great city to the ground in what became known quickly as the Spanish Fury. Virtually every nobleman in the realm put together their own forces under the queen’s banner in the month that followed, and over three hundred noble gentlemen adventurers led thousands of their troops into the Low Countries and war by the end of the year.

Drake, for his part, had devised a calculated, ambitious plan that—if successful—could rip apart the Spanish Empire. He planned to attack the Galician coast of Spain, then head into the West Indies, and capture Santo Domingo, Cartagena, Nombre de Díos, Río de la Hacha, and Santa Marta before heading north to Raleigh’s new colony of Virginia to ensure that the “western planters” wanted for nothing. Not only would he bring well over twenty-three hundred men with him, but he also planned to free around five thousand Cimaroons from their Spanish overlords to fight alongside his own men.
²

Drake’s first task was to raise money for the joint stock company that would fund his exploit, and ensure that the stockholders would understand that the mission had more than the purpose of plunder at its heart. The queen needed money to finance the Netherlands war, and Drake had undertaken to provide it with his adventure. In doing so, he would also deprive Philip of his American treasure. Leicester thought it was a splendid plan, and he told Burghley “that
is the string that toucheth him [Philip] indeed, for whiles his riches of the Indies continue, he thinketh he will be able with them to weary out all other princes. And I know by good means that he more feareth this action of Sir Francis than he ever did anything that hath been attempted against him.”
³

Drake’s fleet would be the largest England had ever sent to foreign waters. Its ships were evidently on a fully sanctioned royal mission, comprising:

In all, some twenty-five ships and eight pinnaces made up the fleet. Sir Francis’s lieutenant general, Sir Christopher Carleill (Walsingham’s stepson), was a professional soldier and had fought valiantly in Ireland. While the military contingent aboard was unseasoned, Drake was glad to leave their training in Carleill’s capable hands. Though Frobisher had had more “experience” at sea, and remained as cantankerous as ever, he bowed graciously to Carleill’s superior position, unlike Leicester’s upstart brother-in-law Knollys. Drake had no time for prima donnas aboard ship, and demanded that his gentlemen make themselves useful in the same everyday chores as his lowest mariners.

On September 14, 1585, the same day that Drake managed to rid himself of Sidney and his entourage, he hastily set sail, though the ships hadn’t been fully victualed, and one of his captains had to be hustled aboard to avoid missing the sailing. Drake knew his queen well enough to know that Sidney might have blighted the entire mission, and that Elizabeth, in a fit of pique, might recall the fleet at any moment. This, of course, was an unacceptable risk for Sir Francis, but they still needed the food they had been compelled to leave behind. As he sailed away, Drake also knew in his heart that it would be unsafe to finish his victualing at any English port.

Incredibly, Drake’s phenomenal good luck held, and within the week he came upon a Biscayan ship laden with fish. Three vessels from the English fleet pursued her and, with their weatherly design, had no trouble in snaring her. It was Carleill who won the game, and he snatched the prize for the fleet. Once brought aboard there was
now enough food for the fleet to run to Spain and take shelter at the mouth of the Vigo River and replenish their stocks with clean water.

Once safely ensconced at anchor, Sir Francis sent word to the local governor at Bayona asking if Spain was at war with England, and why the King of Spain had impounded the English merchant fleet. Don Pedro Bermudez, Bayona’s hapless governor, could not have mistaken the intent of the Englishmen, and was undoubtedly overawed. He took a thousand Spanish horse with him to personally confront
El Draco
. Meeting face-to-face midriver in a tiny rowboat, Bermudez told Drake that they were not at war with each other; that Philip had recently released the impounded vessels; and that if Drake left Bayona and Vigo alone, he would give them all the water and food they needed. And so it was agreed.

By mid-October, the English left Spain, having had an unusually friendly and hospitable exchange with the Spanish. Meanwhile, Philip fulminated at the Escorial. But things could have been much worse for the King of Spain. Drake had narrowly missed capturing the
flota
as it returned from the West Indies. It had passed within twelve hours of Drake while the fleet was sailing off the Portuguese coast, just out of sight over the line of the horizon.
⁵

After plundering the Cape Verde Islands, most likely in retaliation for an old complaint by William Hawkins as well as resupplying the fleet, the English headed west across the Atlantic, only to be stricken with a virulent disease (possibly typhus) on their voyage. Somewhere between two and three hundred men died within days, and hundreds of others were left weak and debilitated. When landfall was made at St. Kitts (then uninhabited), the mariners who could went ashore so that the sick could recover, and the fetid ships be cleaned and fumigated. Where Drake had so successfully kept his men healthy in his voyage of circumnavigation by keeping the numbers down, on a military adventure like this, it simply was not possible. After a few weeks ashore recovering, the fleet plowed through the green-fringed Caribbean waters to Santo Domingo, the oldest city in the New World.
⁶

Its elegant whitewashed buildings spoke of its ancient pride, though a closer glimpse revealed that it was merely faded glory. Santo Domingo was no longer on the bullion route, and, while rich
in sugar and cattle, it had by and large become an administrative center for the Audiencia, or high court of the region.

While closing in on the town, Drake and his men took three frigates also heading for its port. Drake’s luck was almost uncanny, since one of these carried the letters from King Philip warning the Audiencia that
El Draco
was heading in their direction to destroy them. Naturally, the town was metaphorically caught sleeping, despite a lone fisherman describing an impressive fleet in the waters off the island. The English attacked on New Year’s Eve. Santo Domingo was theirs on New Year’s Day 1586, but not before a cannonball crashed through the side of the
Elizabeth Bonaventure
, and another fell on deck and rolled between Drake’s legs while he paced back and forth with Carleill and Frobisher.
⁷

The English overran the once great city, plundering and pillaging at will. Still, Drake’s estimates of vast mountains of plunder and gold were hopelessly optimistic: all the fleet had to show for their capture was sixteen thousand hides, victuals, wine, vinegar, and oil. The cash they found was so insignificant that it was not even specified. Their only alternative was to “ransom” the city itself.