Armada

On the quarterdeck Robert looked to the heavens. He felt numb. So much had happened in the past twelve hours. He had been so sure of who his father was; a traitor, a Judas who had turned against his own countrymen. But then, in the final moments of his life, Nathaniel Young had taken up the sword for England, shattering all of Robert’s conceptions. It was a transformation that brought him little comfort, he would never have a chance to know the man who had saved his life.

In the darkest hours before dawn, as the crew of the Retribution readied the ship for action, Robert had bathed his father’s body, cleaning away the blood from his terrible wounds before binding him in a simple cloth shroud. For the second time in his life he had felt completely lost and alone. He had blown out the solitary candle in the cabin and in his mind’s eye he had pictured his father as he had remembered him when he was a boy, a tall solemn man who had disappeared so suddenly one night from his life.

In the darkness Robert had sat down to wait. When they had returned to the Retribution Seeley had walked away from him without a word. Robert had not seen him again and as the hours passed he had surmised that Seeley had gone to the commander’s flagship to report what he had discovered. Robert had the patience of a career sailor, built over a lifetime of long hours on watch, but every minute spent waiting for the authorities to storm into his cabin had felt like an eternity. He had been consumed by hopelessness. If he could not convince Thomas of his loyalty, a man whom he had fought with side by side, then he had no hope of persuading others. At dawn one of the crew had knocked on the cabin door.

‘Message from the sailing master, Captain. Enemy in sight.’

Robert had been stunned by the message and had gone aloft to find Seeley on the quarterdeck. As before not a word was exchanged and Robert had taken up his duties as if nothing had happened.

From the corner of his eye Seeley surreptitiously watched the captain. He didn’t know how he should feel about him. Seeley’s admiration for Robert had grown over the year since the captain had come on board. Now he felt like a fool. The captain’s deception had left him with a deep sense of betrayal, and yet the respect he had had for the captain was based on what he himself had witnessed, the bravery and determination Robert had shown in every encounter with the Spanish.

He was plagued with doubts, uncertain as to whether he had made the right decision in deferring the captain’s arrest. The Armada’s defensive formation had been broken. The enemy were vulnerable. If the English navy struck with sufficient speed and depth then the battle could finally be won. There could be no half measures and Seeley feared that at a crucial moment the captain might show mercy to his fellow Roman Catholics. Seeley resolved to watch him closely. He would ensure that the captain was taking the fight to the Spanish at every turn. Then, after victory had been secured, he would fulfil his duty and hand the captain over to the authorities.

The call of a yeoman caught Seeley’s attention and he shouted the order to bring the Retribution full about with the wind abaft. Despite the conditions a small group of Spanish warships had gathered in a loose formation to leeward. The Spanish flagship and her escorts, the ships that had taken the initial brunt of the English attack, had already weighed anchor and were sailing west to join the centre of a reforming Armada.

Robert cursed their fortune. Two hours before, at dawn, the English fleet had swooped down on the small group of Spanish warships that had somehow managed to regain their anchor points. They had quickly engaged them from three sides, punishing the Spaniards for their tenacity, but before any real damage could be inflicted Howard had suddenly broken off the engagement, leading his ships in pursuit of another prize, a galleass that had run aground off Calais. That the prize was significant was not in doubt, nor was the danger of leaving such a powerful ship to their rear, but Howard’s diversion had given the Spanish flagship and the rest of the scattered Armada a respite, one they were now taking advantage of.

The Retribution and a dozen other warships had stayed on station, keeping the flagship under sporadic fire, but the shape of the battle was rapidly changing. A running battle was about to begin along the coast off Gravelines. Robert called for the Retribution to bear away as the English fleet began to gather anew to windward. The weather was changing. Squalls of rain swept across the distant seascape, obscuring the far reaches to the horizon. Seeley called for shortened sails, straightening the trim of the hull as the fleet began to pursue the enemy.