Armada

De Córdoba nodded appreciatively. He looked beyond Evardo to the shroud-covered bodies and the dying soldier under the padre’s care.

‘López,’ he said quietly. ‘He and the other two were manning a falcon pedrero on the fo’c’sle when it was hit.’

Evardo nodded and looked back to the young soldier. ‘What were the names of the others?’

‘De Arroyo and Garrido.’

Evardo memorized the names. It was common for comandantes to issue false casualty lists to the paymaster in order to draw ‘dead men’s pay’ but Evardo would record them faithfully. The men deserved nothing less.

‘Your company fought well today Capitán de Córdoba.’

‘Thank you, Comandante. They would have fought all the better if the English had closed and we were afforded the chance to board.’

Evardo nodded. He couldn’t fathom what the English hoped to achieve with their artillery attack runs. Despite the incredible rate of fire the enemy had maintained in the morning’s action the Santa Clara had suffered only minimal damage and even this was confined to the superstructure, sails and rigging. The hull, although it had taken over a dozen direct hits from round shot, was still sound. The Santa Clara had weathered her first fire storm under Evardo’s command. He reached out to touch the hull, his fingertips feeling the tiny vibrations in the timbers caused by the pounding of the waves and the pull of the wind.

‘I suspect the English were probing for weaknesses this morning, perhaps to ascertain where the fighting ships lie in our formation.’

‘If they plan on stopping our advance they will have to engage in a proper battle,’ de Córdoba said. ‘They will have to board and fight as we do in the Mediterranean, ship to ship, man to man.’

‘I pray to God it will be so.’

Suddenly Evardo felt the deck shudder and the air was filled with a massive explosion, a noise that spoke of some terrible inferno. Evardo started running, keeping his head down in the low-ceiling deck. Aloft the crew were lining the starboard bulwark. He pushed through them. A quarter of a mile away, one of the Armada’s bigger ships was engulfed in thick black smoke. An order to bring the men to battle stations rose to Evardo’s lips but he stopped himself short. This was no attack. It was something far worse.

‘It’s the San Salvador of the Guipúzcoan squadron,’ a crewman shouted. His call was met with a chorus of agreement.

The boom of a single cannon caused Evardo to turn and he saw a puff of white smoke issue from the larboard side of the San Martín. It was the signal for the Armada to stop. Evardo shouted the order as he went to the quarterdeck. For a moment he was tempted to come about and go to the aid of the San Salvador but he knew he could not. After the morning’s action and the retreat of the warships of the rearguard wing, sargentos mayors had been dispatched in pataches to every ship in the fleet with a message from Medina Sidonia. Henceforth, no comandante, on pain of death by hanging, was to retreat from his designated position in the fleet. For men of honour it was a stinging rebuke and although Evardo knew such an order was not meant for him directly, as a comandante he was tainted by association.

A call went out from the masthead, alerting Evardo to the approach of a felucca off the starboard beam. She carried orders for half a dozen ships, the Santa Clara amongst them, to break formation and assist the San Salvador. Evardo called for the course change and ordered extra lookouts to the fighting tops and bowsprit, wary of the English fleet not four miles away. The Santa Clara turned neatly through the chop, her deck heeling over under the press of the wind.

Evardo’s concern mounted as they neared the stricken galleon. Cries of alarm and command mixed on the wind with screams of agony and despair. The aft decks and stern castle of the San Salvador had been completely annihilated. Her steering and mizzen masts were gone and already the wind and tide were beginning to turn her broadside to the weather. Feluccas and pataches were milling around her towering hull, picking men out of the churning sea, while others took secured tow lines to the attending galleons nearby. The Santa Clara sailed past the San Martín and Evardo answered the hail of the flagship to bring his galleon astride the stern of the San Salvador and hold station there.