Arma'da

Arma'da, a Spanish word signifying simply an armed force, but applied specially to the great Spanish fleet fitted out against England in 1588. The king of Spain, Philip II., had resolved to strike a decisive blow at Protestantism by conquering England, which Pope Sixtus V. had formally made over to him. The ports of Spain, Portugal, and other maritime dominions belonging to him, had long resounded with the noise of his preparations, and the most eminent Catholic soldiers from all parts of Europe flocked to take a share in the expedition. The Marquis of Santa-Cruz, an admiral of reputation and experience, received the command of the fleet, and the famous Duke of Parma of the land-forces. The latter had already gathered 30,000 men in Flanders, and merely waited the arrival of the armada to protect his crossing. As no doubt was entertained of success, the fleet was ostentatiously styled the Invincible Armada. When ready for sea, it consisted of 129 vessels, 65 of which were over 700 tons, and was manned by 8000 sailors, while it carried 19,000 Castilian and Portuguese soldiers, over 2000 cannon, and provisions sufficient to feed 40,000 men for six months. A squadron of 80 ships, only 30 of which were ships of the line, was all that Elizabeth had to oppose it by sea; but although the English fleet was much inferior in number and size of shipping to that of the enemy, it was much more manageable, while it was manned by 9000 of the hardest seamen in Europe. Lord Howard of Effingham (q.v., usually but doubtfully said to have been a Catholic) took upon him as lord high admiral the command of the fleet; Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher served under him; while a few ships, under Lord Seymour, lay off Dunkirk, to watch the Duke of Parma. Such was the preparation made by the English; while all the Protestants of Europe regarded this enterprise as the critical event which was to decide for ever the fate of their religion. Drake's daring attack on the store-ships in the harbour of Cadiz had already delayed the expedition, and it was further delayed at the moment of sailing by the death of the admiral Santa-Cruz. Scarcely had it actually sailed under command of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, a seaman of but little experience, when a gale in the Bay of Biscay drove it for shelter into Ferrol. Some time was lost in refitting, and it was not till the end of July that the sails of the fleet were seen from Lizard Point, and the English beacons had flared their alarm all along the coast. The armada was disposed in the form of a half-moon, stretching seven miles from the one horn to the other. The Spanish admiral, instead of going to the coast of Flanders to take in the troops stationed there, resolved to sail directly to Plymouth, and destroy the shipping in the harbour. But Howard slipped out of Plymouth Sound, and hung with the wind upon his rear. He refused to come to close quarters, but attacked the Spaniards at a distance, pouring in his broadsides with admirable dexterity, and escaping at will in his swift and easily handled vessels out of the range of the Spanish shot. Galleon after galloon was sunk, boarded, or driven on shore, and 'the feathers of the Spaniard were plucked one by one.' As the armada advanced up the Channel, the English still followed and harassed its rear, and the running fire continued throughout the week, until the Spaniards took shelter in the port of Calais. At midnight Howard sent eight of his smaller vessels, filled like fireships with combustible materials, and ablaze, into the midst of the enemy. The Spaniards in panic cut their cables and stood out to sea, while the English ships pursued closely, and came up with them at dawn off Gravelines. Broadside after broadside the English poured into the towering ships of the armada, which in their turn were unable to do any great damage to them. At the close of six hours' furious fighting they found their best ships shattered to pieces and drifting with a north-west wind upon the sandbanks of Holland. More than 4000 men had fallen, while on the English side not a hundred men had been killed, and not a ship had been taken. The Spanish admiral in despair called a hasty council of war, in which it was resolved that, as their ammunition had begun to fail, as their fleet had received great damage, and as the Duke of Parma had refused to venture his army under their protection, they should return to Spain by sailing round the Orkneys, the winds being contrary to their passage directly back. The English ships were soon compelled to fall back from want of ammunition, with which they had been but stingily supplied through the ill-timed cheese-paring policy of the queen; but the storms of the northern seas broke upon the armada, and finished the work of destruction. When Howard fell back from the pursuit, on the 13th of August, there were still 100 vessels in the Spanish fleet; fifty-four only, and these in miserable condition, their crews dying of sickness and exhaustion, ever reached the ports of Spain. The rocks of the Hebrides and the western coast of Ireland were not more fatal to the ships than the hungry Islemen and Irish to their hapless crews. The seamen, as well as the soldiers who survived, were so overcome with hardships and fatigue, and so dispirited by their discomfiture, that they filled all Spain with accounts of the desperate valour of the English, and of the tempestuous violence of that ocean by which they were surrounded. The English queen struck a medal bearing the inscription, Deus flavit, et dissipati sunt, 'God blew, and they were scattered.' The story has been told by Froude in his History, and in The Spanish Story of the Armada (1892), and by Kingsley in Westward Ho! Macaulay's spirited ballad is well known.