Ireland under the Tudors. Volume 3 (of 3)

In Ulster Tirlogh Luineach was getting old, while Hugh O’Neill, representing the bastard Dungannon branch, grew daily stronger. Hugh was now Earl of Tyrone, with a title to all he held in his country or district, reserving 240 acres to the Crown for the fort at Blackwater, and with a grant of markets and fairs. The new Earl covenanted to let Tirlogh enjoy the chiefry during his life, to abide by the decision of a royal commission as to boundaries, rents, and services, and not to make estates to any of the smaller chiefs called urraughts, without consent of the State. Tirlogh was thus placed in possession of that part of Tyrone which lies north and west of the Mullaghcarne mountains, while receiving 1,000 marks from the Earl for the remainder. But Tyrone grasped at all which Con Bacagh or Shane had enjoyed, and Perrott saw that he was restrained by fear only. His wife was O’Donnell’s daughter, and with that chief’s help he hoped to crush Tirlogh. But Hugh, the son of Calvagh, claimed the succession in Tyrconnell, and joining his force to that of Tirlogh he attacked Tyrone’s camp at night. The latter’s force was much superior, but he was surprised, defeated, and obliged to fly to Dungannon. Hugh was afterwards murdered by order of Ineen Duive, who wished to clear the succession for her own son. When Fitzwilliam reached Dublin, he found the Earl and Tirlogh there, lodging complaints against each other. Tyrone’s defeat gave great delight to many, and David Power, who had some personal experience of his dealings, said publicly at Dundalk that he would climb so high as to break his neck, while Perrott thought ‘nothing had done so much good in the North these nine years.’ But the troubles in Ulster were only beginning.[162 - Morrin’s Patent Rolls, May 10, 29 Eliz., and May 13; Tyrone’s answer, April 1587 (No. 58); Andrew Trollope to Burghley, Oct. 26, 1587; Tyrone to Perrott, Jan. 4, 1588; Perrott to Walsingham, May 12; Bingham to Burghley, May 15; Wallop to Walsingham, June 21.]

CHAPTER XLII.

THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA

The Armada expected

On the death of Jacques Wingfield, Perrott had granted the Mastership of the Ordnance to his son, Sir Thomas. It appeared, however, that there had been a grant in reversion passed to Sir William Stanley, which was voidable, but not void, by that officer’s treason. On the place becoming legally vacant it was conferred upon Sir George Carew, the late Master’s nephew. He reported that almost everything in the Dublin store was rusty and rotten, and that the small remainder would soon be as bad, since no allowance was made for maintaining it in a serviceable state. The gunners and armourers were no better than the stores; while Cork, Limerick, and other places were as ill-provided as the capital. Yet the Spaniards were daily expected, and the whole population, exhausted by their late sufferings, stood at gaze, waiting in fear and trembling for the great event.[163 - Carew to Burghley, July 18 and Aug. 2, 1588; to Walsingham, July 18, Aug. 4 and Sept. 18; to Heneage, July 18 and Aug. 4, all in Carew.]

The Spanish ships appear

Admiral Recalde

On the 2nd of August Drake made up his mind that the enemy could not land in any part of Great Britain, and left the Armada to contend with the elements only. The rumours of English defeat which reached Spain were industriously propagated in Ireland also, but on the 26th the discomfiture of the invaders was known as far west as Athlone, though no letter had yet arrived. In the first days of September the flying ships began to tell their own story. From the Giant’s Causeway to the outermost point of Kerry the wild Atlantic seaboard presented its inhospitable face, and the Spaniards who landed met with a reception to match. At first they were the objects of great anxiety, and if the fleet had kept together, the crews, sick and hungry as they were, might have made some dangerous combination with the natives. But the Duke of Medina Sidonia, with fifty-two ships, managed to weather the Irish coast. This was owing to the advice of Calderon, who was the only officer with him that knew our shores, and who had a proper horror of the terrible west coast of Ireland. Admiral Recalde, a distinguished sailor, but with less local knowledge, parted company with the Duke off the Shetlands. When the storm moderated he had twenty-seven sail with him, but by the time he reached Kerry these were reduced to three. There were twenty-five pipes of wine on board, but no water except what had come from Spain, ‘which stinketh marvellously.’ There was very little bread, and the thirsty wretches could not eat their salt beef. Recalde anchored between the Blaskets and the main land, and sent for water. But Smerwick was close by, and no Kerry Catholic cared to run the risk of comforting the Queen’s enemies. Recalde’s ship, ‘The Don John of Oporto,’ was one of the largest in the whole Armada, containing 500 men, but of these 100 were ill; some died daily, and the strongest were scarcely able to stand. The masts were injured by the English shot and would not bear a press of canvas, yet there was nothing for it but to trust once more to those crazy spars. When Slea Head was passed, the immediate danger was over, and Recalde ultimately reached Corunna, but only to die of exhaustion four days after. He seems to have had some presentiment of disaster. When Medina Sidonia was appointed to command the expedition, his Duchess wished him to decline the perilous honour. If he succeeded, she philosophically remarked, he could be no more than Duke of Medina Sidonia; whereas he would lose his reputation if he failed. ‘Yes,’ said Recalde significantly, ‘if he returns.’[164 - Examination of Emanuel Fremoso and Emanuel Francisco, Sept. 12, 1588; James Trant, sovereign of Dingle, to Sir Edward Denny, Sept. 11; Bingham to Burghley, Aug. 26; Ormonde to Mr. Comerford, Sept. 18. Recalde’s ship was burned by Drake at Corunna in April 1589; she had then sixty-eight pieces of brass cannon. See Duro’s Armada Invencible, ii. 446. ‘Cuando torne’ were Recalde’s words.]

Misery of the Spaniards

Wreck off Kerry

Spaniards hanged at Tralee

The noble landsman to whom Philip, with extraordinary folly, entrusted the greatest fleet which the world had yet seen, had probably no choice but to make his way homewards as best he might. Unable to cope with the English or to co-operate with Parma, a great seaman might perhaps have been equally unsuccessful in attaining the objects of the expedition. But a chief of even ordinary capacity might have managed to ship some fresh water on the Faroes or the Shetlands. Neither on those islands nor on the Norwegian coast could any serious resistance have been offered; but the chance was lost and the consequences of this neglect were frightful. Wine was but a poor substitute, and some of the victuals were as unwholesome as the foul water. Among other things lime had been mixed with the biscuit, and for this many bakers in Spain were afterwards hanged. The ships were so much damaged, and the men so weak, that it was often impossible to keep clear of the coast. One unfortunate vessel, named ‘Our Lady of the Rose,’ foundered in the Sound of Blasket, in sight of the open water which Recalde had reached. The Genoese pilot had probably no local knowledge, and steered her on to a sunken rock, where she went down with 500 men on board; but not before an officer had killed the poor Italian for supposed treason. The pilot’s son alone escaped, by swimming, to tell the tale. Among the doomed was the young prince of Ascoli, said to be a son of Philip’s, who had originally sailed with Medina Sidonia and had taken a boat at Calais, had failed to regain the admiral’s ship, and had sought refuge upon that which had now gone to the bottom. A small vessel, which seems to have had no boat, was driven into Tralee Bay. Three men swam ashore and offered to surrender, saying they had friends at Waterford who would ransom them; but the names of those friends they refused to disclose. Lady Denny hanged the whole crew, consisting of twenty-four Spaniards, on the ground that there was no way of keeping them safely. Norris afterwards regretted that this had been done, but he also at first dreaded a landing in force.[165 - Examination of Juan Antonio of Genoa, Sept. 15; Vice-President Norris to Walsingham, Sept. 8 and 9; William Herbert to Fitzwilliam, Feb. 1589; Peter Grant’s news under Feb. 28.]

Wrecks off Clare

Seven ships were driven into the Shannon, and lay for a short time off Carrigaholt. The Spaniards burned one which was too leaky to go to sea again. Another was wrecked in Dunbeg Bay, on the other side of Loop Head, and between 200 and 300 men were drowned. Another was lost at Trumree, a few miles farther north, and the names of Spanish Point and Mal Bay are believed to commemorate the impression which these disasters left upon the native mind. 300 men who landed were slain by the sheriff, in obedience to Bingham’s orders. Another ship lay for a time at Liscannor, where there is little or no shelter, but the crew were unable to land; one of her two boats was washed ashore, and a large oil-jar found in her showed that water was the Spaniards’ great want. Other ships were seen off the Arran Islands, and one of 200 tons came within a mile of Galway. It is not recorded that any of these were lost; but neither does it appear that any were relieved. They drifted away in misery, the men dying daily, and the survivors having to work, though themselves in a condition very little better than that of the fabulous Ancient Mariner.[166 - Nicholas Kahane to the Mayor of Limerick, Sept. 12; George Woodloke to the Mayor of Waterford, Sept. 10; Boetius Clancy, sheriff of Clare, to Bingham, Sept. 6. Mr. James Frost, of Limerick, writes as follows: – ‘One ship was driven upon the rocks at a place called Spanish Point (Rinn na Spainig) near Miltown Malbay… The tradition is that the other ship was driven ashore at a place called Ballagh-a-line, not far from Lisdoonvarna. Boetius Clancy of Knockfime, a place one mile distant from the scene, was sheriff of Clare in that year. He ordered such of the crew as came alive on the shore to be hanged, and they were buried in one pit near the church of Killilagh. The place of execution has been long since called Knockacroghery (the hangman’s hill) and the tumulus of earth heaped over the dead Spaniards is called Tuaim na Spainig. In a few years afterwards, peace being restored between England and Spain, a request was made to the English Government for permission to exhume the body of the son of one of the first grandees of Spain, who had been on board the lost ship, in order to its removal home for burial. Consent was given, but the body having been placed with the rest in one grave, could not be found. Clancy was greatly blamed by all parties for his inhumanity.’]

Wreck in Clew Bay

Spaniards slaughtered by the Irish

The ocean waves which roll into Clew Bay are partly broken by the island of Clare, which belonged in the sixteenth century to the O’Malleys – a clan famous as sea-rovers and fishermen. The western half of the island consists of a heathery mountain, which is said to harbour grouse, though other grouse are so far away. The eastern half is cultivated; but as late as 1870 there were no roads in the island, no wheeled vehicles, and only a single saddle, reserved for the annual visit of the agent. A native leaning on his spade, and lamenting the badness of the potatoes, asked a stray visitor if there were any news of the world. Upon these lonely rocks a large ship, commanded by Don Pedro de Mendoza, foundered with 700 men. Less than 100 had landed two days before, and these were all slaughtered by Dowdary Roe O’Malley, for the sake of the gold which they had brought with them. Mendoza tried to escape with some fishing-boats, but he shared the fate of his men, much to Bingham’s regret. One poor Spaniard and an Irishman of Wexford were spared out of 800. At Ormonde’s village of Burrishoole farther up the bay a ship of 1,000 tons and fifty-four guns was driven ashore. Most of those on board were lost, but sixteen landed with gold chains and surrendered to the Earl’s tenant. It was reported in London that the Duke of Medina Sidonia was among them, and Ormonde sent over a special messenger with orders to seize all that was valuable, to let the Duke ride his own horse, and not to put him in irons, but to treat him as the greatest prince in Spain. But Ormonde was not fortunate enough to capture this rich prize, nor is it likely that any of the plunder was reserved for him.[167 - Edwarde Whyte to Walsingham, Sept. 30; Ormonde to Comerford, Sept. 18.]

Wrecks in Connemara

Spaniards executed

In the western part of Galway two vessels were wrecked, one of them being the ‘White Falcon’ with Don Luis de Cordova and his company. The O’Flaherties were at first disposed to shelter and befriend the strangers, but Bingham made proclamation that anyone who harboured Spaniards for more than four hours would be reputed as traitors. Many were brought to Galway accordingly, where 300 were straightway executed by the Provost Marshal, who was then sent to exercise his office in O’Flaherty’s country and to do what he could towards saving ordnance and munitions; and other officers were sent into Mayo with similar instructions. Of the prisoners at Galway forty picked men were reserved for Bingham’s decision, of whom thirty were afterwards executed. Don Luis and nine others were spared, as likely to be worth ransom, or to be able to give useful information.[168 - Edwarde Whyte to Walsingham, with discourse enclosed, Sept. 30; examination of Don Luis de Cordova, Oct. 1.]

Alonso de Leyva

The most famous Spaniard in the Armada was Alonso de Leyva, who was in command of the troops, and who would have acted as general had the invaders effected a landing in force. Even at sea he was the second in command, and had a commission to take supreme direction in case anything should happen to the Duke of Medina Sidonia. De Leyva had been suspected of intriguing for the command during the life of Santa Cruz, and even of thwarting that great seaman’s preparations. He had served under Don John in Flanders, where he raised a famous battalion consisting entirely of half-pay officers, and afterwards in Sicily and Italy; and had resigned command of the cavalry at Milan on purpose to take part in the expedition against England. When the Armada actually sailed he had charge of the vanguard, and had pressed the Duke hard to attack the English in Plymouth Sound, where their superior seamanship would avail them little. The guns of the fort, he said, would be silent, for their fire would do as much harm to one side as to the other. This bold advice was probably wise, but Medina Sidonia was not the man to take it. At a later period De Leyva is said to have directly accused the Duke of cowardice, and to have been threatened by him with the penalty of death – his only answer to every criticism.

His ship and followers

He himself sailed on board the ‘Rata,’ a ship of 820 tons, 35 guns, and 419 men, of whom only 84 were seamen. Among the landsmen were many noble adventurers, who were desirous of seeing war under so famous a captain. When the fleet parted company the ‘Rata’ remained with Recalde, and went as far as 62° north latitude; the object being to reach Ireland and to refit there. The increasing cold frustrated this plan, and the half-sinking ships staggered southward again in the direction of Spain.[169 - Duro, i. 34, 44, 200, ii. 374, 440, ib. 66-70 for the names of the noble volunteers, among whom is ‘Manuel Paleologo,’ with two followers. —Froude, xii. 503.]

Alonso de Leyva wrecked in Mayo, and again in Donegal

The ‘Rata’ was driven, much disabled, into Blacksod Bay, and anchored off Ballycroy. The sailing-master was Giovanni Avancini, an Italian, who, with fourteen of his countrymen, being ill-treated by the Spaniards, stole the ship’s only boat and wandered off into the country, where they were robbed and imprisoned by the ‘Devil’s Hook’s son’ and others of the Burkes. De Leyva then sent men ashore on casks, who recovered the boat, and the whole ship’s company were brought safe to land. They then entrenched themselves strongly in an old castle near the sea. Two days later, the ‘Rata’ was driven on to the beach. A boat full of treasure, besides such unaccustomed wares as velvet and cloth of gold, fell into the hands of the natives, and the ill-fated ship was fired where she lay. Meanwhile the transport ‘Duquesa Santa Ana,’ of 900 tons, drifted to the same remote haven. She had 300 or 400 men on board, who had been specially levied in honour of the Duchess of Medina Sidonia, but room was somehow made for all De Leyva’s people, and the transport set sail for Spain. The overladen craft had no chance against a head wind, and was driven into Loughros Bay, in Donegal. The shelter was bad, the cables parted, and the ‘Santa Ana’ went on the rocks; but here, again, no lives were lost. The shipwrecked men encamped for several days, and heard that the ‘Gerona,’ one of the four great Neapolitan galleasses which the luckless Hugo de Moncada had commanded, was lying in Killybegs Harbour. De Leyva had been hurt in the leg by the capstan during the confusion on board the ‘Santa Ana,’ and could neither walk nor ride. He was carried nineteen miles across the mountains between four men, and encamped at Killybegs for a fortnight, while the galeass was undergoing repairs. He despaired of reaching Spain in such a crazy bark, and determined, if possible, to land in Scotland. The Spaniards were, in the meantime, dependent on MacSwiney Banagh for food, and that chief was afraid of bringing famine on his country. At first, the unbidden guests had beef and mutton, but afterwards they were obliged to buy horseflesh.[170 - The most circumstantial account of De Leyva’s adventures, so far, is the deposition, taken on Dec. 29, of James Machary, a Tipperary man who was on board the ‘Santa Ana.’ Other particulars are in the ‘discourse’ sent by E. Whyte to Walsingham on Sept. 30. See also Fitzwilliam to Burghley, Oct. 27, with the enclosures; Duro, i. 171 Gerald Comerford to Bingham, Sept. 13.]

Alonso de Leyva sails a third time,

Some of the Irish pressed De Leyva to stay and to be their general against the English heretics, but he pleaded that he had no commission to do any such thing. He does, however, seem to have had some idea of wintering in Ulster, which he abandoned either on account of the difficulty of getting provisions, or because he saw no chance of defeating Fitzwilliam, whose arrival in Ulster was constantly expected. And he may have thought that the MacSwineys were not altogether to be trusted. The ‘Gerona’ had been made seaworthy with MacSwiney’s help, and by using the materials of another wreck, but she would not hold anything like the whole of his people. The bulk of them were willing to take their chance of a passage to Scotland, and, in the meanwhile, to make friends with the natives, and to join their fortunes to those of their shipwrecked countrymen. The galeass originally carried 300 galley-slaves, who could not be dispensed with, and less than that number of soldiers and sailors combined. It may be therefore assumed that she put off from Killybegs with not far short of 600 men on board. Her pilots were three Irishmen and a Scot.

but is finally lost off Antrim

The noble volunteers all shared the fortunes of their chief. The ‘Gerona’ was a floating castle rather than a ship, built for the Mediterranean, and for fine weather, and utterly unsuited for the work required. Nevertheless she weathered Malin Head, and may even have sighted the Scotch coast. The wind came ahead, or the leaks gained upon the pumps – no one will ever know exactly what happened. For some time the fate of Don Alonso was doubtful; but about the beginning of December it became certainly known that the galeass had gone to pieces on the rock of Bunboys, close to Dunluce. But five persons, of no consequence, escaped, nor were any of the bodies identified. Hidalgos and galley-slaves shared the same watery grave.[171 - Bingham to the Queen, Dec. 3; Fitzwilliam, &c., to the Privy Council, Dec. 31; Duro, ii. 65; advertisement by Henry Duke, Oct. 26.]

Importance of De Leyva

Alonso de Leyva is described as ‘long-bearded, tall, and slender, of a whitely complexion, of a flaxen and smooth hair, of behaviour mild and temperate, of speech good and deliberate, greatly reverenced not only of his own men, but generally of all the whole company;’ and Philip said that he mourned his loss more than that of the Armada. It was well for England that the sovereign who rated Don Alonso so highly had not given him the supreme command, for the ‘brag countenance,’ which stood Lord Howard in such good stead would not then have been allowed to pass unchallenged. The loss of the ‘Gerona’ brought mourning into many of the noblest houses in Spain and Italy. ‘The gentlemen were so many,’ says a Spanish castaway, who visited the fatal spot, ‘that a list of their names would fill a quire of paper.’ Among them were the Count of Paredes, and his brother Don Francisco Manrique, and Don Thomas de Granvela, the Cardinal’s nephew.[172 - Machary’s examination, Dec. 29, and that of George Venerey, a Cretan. Duro, ii. 66-70, 364. The gentleman-adventurers who sailed both on the ‘Rata’ and ‘Santa Ana’ were doubtless collected on board the ‘Gerona.’ Captain Merriman, writing to Fitzwilliam on Oct. 26, says 260 bodies were washed ashore, as well as certain wine, which was appropriated by Sorley Boy MacDonnell. A small cove close to the Giant’s Causeway is still called Port-na-Spania. There is a local tradition that the fallen pillars of basalt on the height were knocked down by the Spanish gunners, who mistook them for Dunluce Castle; but they were not thinking of bombarding castles just then.]

Wrecks in Sligo

Great loss of life

Three large ships were wrecked on the seaboard immediately to the north of Sligo Bay. A survivor recorded their failure to double the ‘Cabo di Clara,’ owing to a head wind. Erris Head was probably the actual promontory, and the Spaniards must have thought it was Cape Clear. Their ignorance of the coast is evident, and it seems certain that they mistook the north-west corner of Connaught for the south-west corner of Munster. Cape Clear was well known by name, and they would have been in no danger after doubling it. As it was, the west coast was a trap into which they drifted helplessly. Even of those who succeeded in rounding the Mullet we have seen that few escaped. Of the three who were lost near Sligo, one was the ‘San Juan de Sicilia,’ carrying Don Diego Enriquez, son of the Viceroy of New Spain and an officer of high rank. They anchored half a league from shore. For four days the weather was thick, and on the fifth a stiff nor’-wester drove them all aground. The best anchors lay off Calais, and there was no chance of working her off shore, for sails and rigging were injured by the English shot. The beach was of fine sand, but there were rocks outside, and in one hour the three ships, badly fastened in the best of times, and kept afloat only by frequent caulking, had completely broken up. Don Diego, foreseeing this, got into a decked boat with the Count of Villafranca’s son, two Portuguese gentlemen, and more than 16,000 ducats in money and jewels, and ordered the hatches to be battened down. With a proper crew she might have reached land safely, but more than seventy despairing wretches flung themselves into her, and the first great wave swept them all into the sea. The imprisoned hidalgos had no control over the boat, which was driven on to the beach bottom upwards. More than thirty-six hours later the natives came to rifle her, and dragged out the bodies. Three were dead, and Don Diego expired immediately after his release. According to the Spanish account more than 1,000 were drowned altogether, and less than 300 escaped, and this agrees pretty well with what we learn from English sources. ‘At my late being at Sligo,’ says Fenton, ‘I numbered in one strand of less than five miles in length above 1,100 dead corpses of men which the sea had driven upon the shore, and, as the country people told me, the like was in other places, though not of like number.’[173 - Cuellar’s narrative in Duro, ii. 342; Sir Geoffrey Fenton to Burghley, Oct. 28. The following is from Col. Wood Martin’s History of Sligo, 1882: ‘The largest of the galleons struck on a reef (from that circumstance called Carrig-na-Spania, or the Spaniard’s Rock) situated off the little island of Derninsh, parish of Ahamlish. On the map of the Sligo coast (A.D. 1609) is placed opposite to this island the following observation: – “Three Spanish ships here cast away in A.D. 1588.”’ The bodies lay on Streedagh strand, and cannon-balls and bones have been cast up there within the last few years.]

The survivors are stripped and robbed by the Irish, who rejoice over their prey

But some are more humane

The smallest of the three ships was that which carried Don Martin de Aranda, who acted as judge-advocate-general or provost-marshal to the Armada, and who had been ordered by the Duke of Medina Sidonia to hang Don Cristobal de Avila and Captain Francisco de Cuellar for leaving their places in the line. The first was actually hanged, and carried round the fleet at the yard-arm of a despatch boat to encourage the rest. Cuellar was spared at the provost-marshal’s earnest request, and with him he remained until the loss of the ship. He stood on the poop to the last, whence he saw hundreds perish and a few reach the shore astride on barrels and beams, to be murdered in many cases, and stripped in all, by ‘200 savages and other enemies,’ who skipped and danced with joy at the disaster which brought them plunder. Don Martin de Aranda came to Cuellar in tears, both sewed coin into their clothes and after some struggles found themselves together upon the floating cover of a hatchway. Covered with blood and injured in both legs, Cuellar was washed ashore, but Don Martin was drowned. ‘May God pardon him,’ says the survivor, and perhaps he needed pardon, for it was he who had signed the order to kill all the French prisoners after the fight at Terceiras. Unobserved by the wreckers, Cuellar crawled away, stumbling over many stark naked Spanish corpses. Shivering with cold and in great pain he lay down in some rushes, where he was joined by ‘a cavalier, a very gentle boy,’ who was afterwards discovered to be a person of consequence, stripped to the skin, and in such terror that he could not even say who he was. He himself was a mere sponge full of blood and water, half-dead with pain and hunger; and in this state he had to pass the night. Two armed natives who chanced to pass took pity on them, covered them with rushes and grass which they cut for the purpose, and then went off to take their part in the wrecking. Green as the covering was, it probably saved Cuellar’s life, but at daybreak he found, to his great sorrow, that the poor, gentle lad was dead.[174 - Duro, i. 123, ii. 343-347.]

Adventures of Francisco de Cuellar

A devout damsel

Slowly and painfully Cuellar made his way to what he calls a monastery, probably the round tower and church of Drumcliff, which is about five miles from the scene of the shipwreck. He found no living friends in this ancient foundation of St. Columba, but only the bodies of twelve Spaniards, hanged ‘by the Lutheran English’ to the window gratings inside the church. An old woman, who was driving her cows away for fear of the soldiers, advised him to go back to the sea, where he was joined by two naked Spaniards. Miserable as they were, they picked out the corpse of Don Diego from among more than 400, and buried him in a hole dug in the sand, ‘with another much-honoured captain, a great friend of mine.’ Two hundred savages came to see what they were doing, and they explained by signs that they were saving their brethren from the wolves and crows, which had already begun their ghastly work. As they were looking for any chance biscuits which the sea might have cast up four natives proposed to strip Cuellar, who alone had some clothes, but another of higher rank protected him. While on his way to this friendly partisan’s village, he met two armed young men, an Englishman and a Frenchman, and a ‘most extremely beautiful’ girl of twenty, who prevented the Englishman from killing, but not from stripping, the wretched Spaniard. A gold chain worth 1,000 reals was found round his neck, and forty-five ducats sewn up in his doublet, being two months’ pay received before leaving Corunna. He protested that he was only a poor soldier, but it was nevertheless proposed to detain him as worth ransom. Cuellar records, with some complacency, that the girl pitied him much, and begged them to return his clothes and to do him no more harm. His doublet was restored, but not his shirt, nor a relic of great repute which he had brought from Lisbon, and which ‘the savage damsel hung round her neck, saying, by signs, that she meant to keep it, and that she was a Christian, being as much like one as Mahomet was.’ A boy was ordered to take him to a hut, to put a plaster of herbs on his wound, and to give him milk, butter, and oatmeal cake.[175 - Duro, ii. 347-350.]

A visit to O’Rourke

Cuellar is enslaved by a smith;

but escapes to MacClancy

Cuellar was directed towards the territory of O’Rourke, narrowly escaped a band of English soldiers, was beaten and stripped naked by forty ‘Lutheran savages’ not easily identified, mistook two naked Spaniards for devils in the dark, joined them, and at last, after enduring almost incredible hardships, reached the friendly chief’s house, partly wrapped in straw and fern. O’Rourke had many houses. This one may have been Dromahaire, near to the eastern extremity of Lough Gill. It was a castle, and Cuellar calls it a hut, the probability being that thatched outhouses were generally occupied, and that the stone keep was little used except for defence. Everyone pitied the stranger, and one man gave him a ragged old blanket full of lice. Twenty other Spaniards came to the same place, reporting a large ship not far off. Cuellar was unable to keep up with them, and thus failed to embark on a vessel which was soon afterwards wrecked. All that escaped the sea were killed by the soldiers. Cuellar then fell in with a priest, who was dressed in secular habit for fear of the English, and who spoke in Latin. Following his directions the Spaniard sought the castle of MacClancy, a chief under O’Rourke who held the country south and west of Lough Melvin, and who was a great enemy of Queen Elizabeth. A savage whom he met enticed him to his cabin in a lonely glen. The man turned out to be a smith, who set his prisoner to blow the bellows. This lasted for eight days, and as the old man of the sea refused to let Sindbad go, so did this old man of the mountains declare that Cuellar should stay all his life with him. The Spaniard worked steadily for fear of being thrown into the fire by this ‘wicked, savage smith and his accursed hag of a wife.’ The friendly priest then appeared, and owing to his exertions, four natives and one Spaniard were sent by MacClancy to release Cuellar. He found ten of his shipwrecked countrymen with MacClancy, and everyone pitied him, especially the women, for he had no covering but straw. ‘They fitted me out,’ he says, ‘as well as they could with one of their country mantles, and during my stay of three months I became as great a savage as they were.’ Cuellar seems to have been susceptible to female influences, for he remarks that his host’s wife was extremely beautiful and very kind to him, and he spent a good deal of time in telling her fortune and those of her fair relatives and friends. This was amusing at first, but when men and less interesting women began to consult him he was forced to apply to his host for protection. MacClancy would not let him go, but gave general orders that no one should annoy him.[176 - Duro, ii. 350-358. The chief who sheltered Cuellar is called by him Manglana, and in the State Papers MacGlannagh or MacGlannahie. ‘The barony of Rossclogher in Leitrim,’ says O’Donovan, ‘was the territory of the family of Mag-Flannchadha, now anglicised MacClancy.’ —Irish Topographical Poems, xxxvii. 268.]

A wild Irish household

An account of an Irish household by a foreigner who had lived among the people for months, and whose sight was not coloured by English prejudice, is so rare a thing that Cuellar’s may well be given in full.

The men

The women

The Irish rob the Spaniards, but save their lives