It was an expensive resort for the northern allies, for they had to pay their galley ‘slaves’. Spinola ran through hundreds a year from combat or disease, but he always succeeded in getting more from Spain.
Archduke Albert, now married to the Infanta and recently created independent sovereign of the loyal provinces of the Netherlands, opened peace negotiations with England and the rebel states on behalf of the young King of Spain; but these progressed no further than what we should now call discussions for the agenda before they broke down. Yet for the time being active combat between the two sides died away. Great epidemics were decimating the Spanish sea towns and dockyards. The Dutch, using their new-found strength, were taking care of the Narrow Seas and trying to contain Spinola and the Dunkirk pirates. England was preoccupied with the Irish problem.
Kings are notoriously bad at picking favourites: history is littered with the debris of their extravagances and their mistakes. But Elizabeth, even with her favourites, had a pretty shrewd eye for a man’s worth under his gallant manner and handsome face. Essex was her worst error, yet even he, before he developed delusions of semi-kingship, was a tireless and fearless soldier with a splendid gift for leadership. As for the others: Leicester, Ralegh, Hatton, Mountjoy and the rest, they were all men of parts.
Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy, came of an old but impoverished family, and had intended to study law; but an appearance at court and a marked talent in the tilt-yard brought him into prominence and an entirely unmerited command over his elders and betters in the Azores expedition of 1597. Since then, and before then, being refused permission to leave the court and get himself killed ‘ like that inconsiderate fellow Sidney’, he had spent most of his spare time studying the art of war. When he reached Ireland after his friend’s disastrous failure he proceeded to put his book learning into practice.
By the judicious combination of sea and land power, and with Sir George Carew as his experienced right-hand man, he so overcame the Irish that by the beginning of 1601 Desmond was a fugitive, McCarty was trying to change sides, and many of Tyrone’s followers were giving up the struggle.
Now, too late by a couple of years for the most favourable circumstances, Spain chose to intervene. It was known all through the spring and early summer that yet another Armada was assembling in Lisbon in spite of lack of money, discouragement and rampant disease. Don Diego Brochero and Pedro de Zubiaur were to command it, and, though by early standards it was small, it still consisted of about twenty galleons and twenty other ships, carrying four thousand five hundred of Spain’s best soldiers, a quantity of siege equipment and a mass of military stores.
As always (except in 1597) the English were well alerted to its approach, but as always, being on the defensive, they had no certainty as to the objective in mind. Ireland was certainly considered, but an attack on the West Country could not be ruled out. Nor, in spite of a lack now of Channel ports, could there be ruled out a possible attempt to link up with the Archduke Albert, who was at present laying siege to Ostend. The English commissioned a new squadron under Sir Henry Palmer to meet the threat, but in September news reached Plymouth that the whole Spanish fleet of some forty or fifty ships had been seen on a northerly course clearly bound for Ireland.
The Spanish fleet carried with it as commander of the military the sturdy Don Juan de Aguila who had been landed in Brittany in 1590, had remained there in spite of all Anglo-French efforts to drive him out, and had only been compelled to relinquish his position there under the terms of the peace treaty of Vervins. Now it was the Spanish intention to inject him and his tercios into Ireland, where they could, if successful, join up with Tyrone and the other Irish rebels and take the whole island or, if unsuccessful, remain like an unassimilable foreign body in possession of a part of the coast where they could be most nuisance to the English. It was not the intention of the Spanish to keep a fleet in being off Ireland; their aim was to land troops and from time to time furnish it with supplies and more troops, just as Zubiaur had so successfully done for so many years in Brittany.
Inevitably the weather intervened in these plans. A storm struck the Armada and it was split into three parts. Zubiaur to his fury was driven back into Coruña. With him were nine ships, eight hundred of the soldiers and most of the stores. A large transport in considerable distress was captured by an English privateer. Three ships under the command of Don Alonso del Campo reached and seized Baltimore on the southern coast of Ireland. The main fleet under Brochero arrived off the mouth of Cork harbour and were about to attempt to take the town when the wind changed, making their entry up the river impossible. They therefore sailed west and took Kinsale instead – another fine harbour but a less important base. Here they encountered no resistance; the people opened the gates of the little walled town and welcomed them in as friends and deliverers. Brochero, not wanting to stay in harbour a moment longer than he need – for if the wind changed he might find himself pinned there until an English fleet arrived – disembarked his three thousand army veterans, their equipment and supplies, and put out to sea again.
Aguila knew that most of the Irish rebels were far in the north, so he set about making the place as defensible as possible to await their arrival. He put a garrison in Castle Park on the Bandon River and another on the opposite bank in Rincurren. There were, however, no horses to be found in the vicinity of Kinsale, and this greatly reduced the Spanish mobility.
With the troops was Mathew de Oviedo, the Spanish-appointed Archbishop of Dublin, and he issued a proclamation stating that Queen Elizabeth had been dethroned by the Pope and therefore Irishmen were relieved of their allegiance, and to fight for Spain was to fight for the Pope and the only true religion. The proclamation fell flat, for there was an unexpected English army just arrived near Cork, and the ordinary folk of the district did not yet feel like committing themselves.
As soon as the news reached him that the Spaniards were coming to Ireland, Carew had been convinced that they would try to take Cork; he had moved quickly south and there he had been joined by Mountjoy, who had ridden down from Dublin with only one hundred men as escort. The presence of the Lord Deputy in their midst had a steadying effect in Munster, but neither English nor Spanish were yet in sufficient force to risk a major encounter. Mountjoy had sent urgent messages to England for reinforcements and awaited them and the rest of his troops from Dublin. Aguila waited the arrival of Tyrone and O’Donnell.
Weather and problems of organization caused delays on all fronts, but by the end of October Mountjoy had built up a force of about six thousand infantry and six hundred horse, and with these he moved in to invest Kinsale. On the 1st November, after a bitter struggle during which Aguila tried repeatedly to relieve them, the hundred and fifty Spaniards in Rincurren surrendered.
In the wild north-west the Irish earls were also, though more slowly, on the move. O’Donnell, Lord of Tirconnel, gathered together an army of three thousand men in Sligo, ferried them across the upper reaches of the Shannon and then stayed three weeks in Tipperary waiting for Tyrone. While waiting he ravaged and plundered the countryside for miles around, even though the victims were Irish Catholics like himself – presumably on the excuse that those who were not for him were against him. On hearing of his approach, Mountjoy decided to take the risk of splitting his own army, and sent Carew north with twelve hundred foot soldiers and two hundred and fifty cavalry to intercept O’Donnell before he could join forces or coordinate with the Spanish.
As Tyrone had still not arrived, O’Donnell eventually moved on again and came upon Carew’s army straddling the only road south. It was an impasse. O’Donnell did not want a trial of strength against regulars who had the choice of position. Carew did not want to attack an army which could melt at will into the bogs and the forests. Then occurred that extreme rarity in Ireland, a sharp November frost. Immediately and successfully O’Donnell led his army across the temporarily frozen quagmire of the Slievefelim Mountains and so gave Carew the slip. By dawn Car
ew knew what had happened and turned about and led his troops back by forced marches, hoping to rejoin Mountjoy in Kinsale in time.
He succeeded, for O’Donnell, having come to within thirty miles of Kinsale, once again sat down and waited for Tyrone. In the meantime Aguila inside Kinsale had not been idle, and Mountjoy with his depleted force had had several bloody encounters with the Spanish. At this stage the army investing Kinsale was fewer in number than the army defending it.
But now the forces began to build up on both sides for a final trial of strength. Zubiaur, back in Coruña, had forced repairs through at a great rate and soon sailed again with ten ships, nine hundred soldiers and quantities of provisions and powder and shot. With him sailed the secretary to the Adelantado, Pedro Lopez de Soto – two fire-eaters together – and although the usual storm split the squadron, they arrived in Castlehaven – near Roaring Water Bay and thirty miles west of Kinsale – with seven of their ships intact and proceeded to land men and stores there.
News of their arrival was a welcome fillip to the spirits of the Spaniards beleaguered in Kinsale, and this, together with the rumoured approach of Tyrone, gave rise to the first dangerous signs in Munster of Irish support for the invaders. The castle at Castlehaven and two overlooking the entrance to Baltimore were handed over without a shot being fired, as a few days later was the important castle of Dunboy, which has a valuable small harbour overlooking Bantry Bay. All these strategic points were quickly garrisoned by Spaniards, and soon they joined forces with O’Donnell and with the Spanish in Baltimore. It was an explosive situation.
In the meantime the Earl of Thomond arrived in Kinsale Harbour with English reinforcements of sixteen hundred men and one hundred horse, and three days later Sir Richard Leveson put in at last with his strong fleet of Warspite, Garland, Defiance, Swiftsure, Crane and Refusal, together with seven supporting ships and two thousand very raw, very seasick troops, whom he proceeded to land. The stage was all set and waiting only for Tyrone.
Leveson, on landing his men, learned of the arrival of Zubiaur in Castlehaven, and at once split his force and warped his part of it laboriously out of the harbour in the teeth of the wind to try to attack Zubiaur before he could establish himself. He took with him Warspite, Defiance, Swiftsure, Crane and three supporting ships and by the following morning was off Castlehaven.
Zubiaur however had already firmly established himself, not only in the castle but in entrenchments along the beach, now manned by musketeers, and eight guns were just being hauled up to cover the narrow entrance of the harbour. Leveson did not pause for a council-of-war but, like Drake at Cadiz fourteen years before, burst straight in. Zubiaur had two galleons of about five hundred tons each, as against the heavily armed Warspite of six hundred and fifty tons and the lesser English warships (the other Spanish ships were transports); but with the guns and soldiers ashore the prospects for an attack could hardly have been less favourable. But in a battle lasting five hours Leveson sank Zubiaur’s flagship and three other ships and left a fifth burning.
In spite of this signal victory he could not hope to dislodge the Spanish soldiers from the shore and now, again like Drake at Cadiz, he found himself unable to retreat, for the wind was adverse. He stayed there two more days waiting a change that would let him out, and in the meantime was the target of Spanish gunnery. It is said that the Warspite was hit three hundred times by shot. When he was finally able to leave, he was soon followed out of the harbour by Zubiaur, who took the remnants of his battered fleet back to Spain. Pedro Lopez de Soto remained behind to command the Spanish infantry.
Now at last the slow-moving Tyrone was almost on the scene – not without his own record of burning and pillaging on the way; but at the sound of his name all Munster, which had hardly lifted a finger for the Spaniards, was ready to rise. He made contact with the Spaniards at Castlehaven, and a contingent of two hundred of them joined him. Then he linked up with O’Donnell and advanced on Kinsale. Between them the Irish alone had about seven thousand men.
It was a nasty position for the English. Mountjoy with all his reinforcements from England had at one time commanded twelve thousand troops; but, thanks to the problems of bringing raw recruits from England, some of whom even died on the way, the enormous number of desertions which followed (hundreds at a time), and the long siege of Kinsale with its routine casualties from disease and warfare, his active force was now down to about six thousand. All were on short rations, the horses were starving and he had none too much powder and shot. Furthermore, although he was officially investing Kinsale, he was now in fact between two armies whose total force was fifty per cent greater than his own. The Spanish were veterans. And Tyrone had shown what he could do to the English on the Blackwater.
It was a suitable moment to lift the siege and evacuate his army as best he could – by ship to Cork, since he was cut off by land. Instead he remained obstinately where he was and continued to bombard Kinsale in the hope that it would provoke an attack. The Spaniards within the walls were in none too good a state either, being reduced to eating rice and stale biscuits, and Aguila wrote in some irritation to Tyrone proposing an immediate joint assault upon the English from front and rear. Tyrone, whose policy of masterly inactivity had been producing desirable results, was reluctantly persuaded by O’Donnell to agree, and the time of the attack was fixed for dawn on Christmas Eve.
Betrayals through the centuries have taken many peculiar shapes, but few perhaps have been quite so bizarre as that of Brian MacHugh Oge MacMahon on the 23rd December 1601. One of the chiefs close to Tyrone, he found himself short of whiskey. There was none in the camp, nor was any to be obtained in the villages round. It was an acute crisis; so, very thirsty, and friendly as you please, he sent off a boy to the English camp to ask Sir George Carew if he could possibly be letting him have a bottle for the old times’ sake. (MacMahon’s son had once been a page to Carew.) The Englishman, not to be outdone in the courtesies, at once sent him a bottle. MacMahon could well have sent the boy back with a note of thanks. Instead he sent, along with his love, a warning to Carew to be on his guard against a surprise attack on the following day at dawn, with details of the dispositions.
People betray for money, for power, for religion, for vengeance. Surely only an Irishman could betray out of sheer goodness of heart.
The battle began in a thunderstorm just before daybreak and lasted for three hours. Warned in advance, the English, though outnumbered, could concentrate their best troops in the most threatened places. The Irish advanced in three main armies: Tyrone and his men from Tyrone and Londonderry, O’Donnell leading the regiments of Tyrconnell and Connaught; while the third army consisted of some of the best troops in Ireland under Tyrrell, a mixture of Munster volunteers and the small Spanish contingent under Alonso del Campo himself. These last were on the Irish right and their task was to establish contact with the beleaguered Spanish in Kinsale.
But no sooner did they probe forward than they met strongly posted English forces barring the way. As day broke del Campo, seeing the thin lines of the English slowly advancing to meet the Irish main armies, pressed Tyrone to attack them at once; but instead Tyrone, fresh from a quarrel with O’Donnell over precedence, ordered a retreat. His aim was to immobilize the English cavalry by retreating behind a bog; but the partly untrained Irish did not know how to retreat in good order and Mountjoy, seizing the moment while it was there, ordered a general attack. Sir Edward Wingfield with two hundred and fifty cavalry charged a force of eighteen hundred pikemen, who stood firm and repulsed him. But then, reinforced by regiments under Sir Henry Danvers, he swung off to the right and attacked the Irish cavalry. These were no match for the English and scattered widely; and the Irish pikemen, seeing their own people fleeing towards them, parted ranks to let them through and could not reassemble in time to keep out the English cavalry.
So a rout began. Brian MacHugh Oge MacMahon, fighting valiantly be it noted, was severely wounded in the fight. In a short time the onl
y Irish standing firm were Tyrrell’s vanguard, which resisted for a while and then also fled, leaving del Campo and his Spanish contingent standing alone. Though now hopelessly outnumbered the Spaniards fought on, giving no ground, until of the original two hundred only del Campo, two other officers and forty-seven soldiers were left alive. Then they surrendered. The Irish loss in the battle was perhaps twelve hundred, though on their return northwards many hundreds more were set upon and killed by the other Irish they had despoiled on the way south. A favourite way of killing them was throwing them into a bog and then treading them down.
Having never received the prearranged signal from del Campo, Aguila and the Kinsale garrison did not make a sally until the fighting was virtually over, and then they were sharply rebuffed.
Through the next week they continued to make sorties but to no avail. It was a stalemate, for an English attempt to take the fortress would have been a desperate and bloody business. Then on the 31st December Aguila offered to parley. Mountjoy gratefully accepted the invitation and sent his Cornish friend Sir William Godolphin to open negotiations. The bargaining was hard on both sides, but, since Mountjoy only had six days food left for his troops and most of his guns were out of action, he felt justified in agreeing generous terms.