Grace O'Malley. Machray Robert

For the galleon’s defence against the rovers of of the sea, who were to be found in great numbers off the French and English coasts, she showed her teeth in the guise of the black muzzles of twelve cannon, all formidable ordnance, and, armed with this equipment, as compared with that of The Cross of Blood, looked as if she might devour us at her leisure and with the utmost ease.

But it was not my purpose that these guns should ever be pointed at us, and so high were they out of the water – far above us, in fact – that there was no such terrible danger to be apprehended on this score. Besides, we were now too near her, and she was, in any case, unprepared.

When we had approached within four hundred yards of the Capitana, I gave orders that the sail of The Cross of Blood should be lowered to the deck quickly, and yet as quietly as might be, and that the rowers should get them to their oars, and speed us with all their might towards the Spanish ship.

So well was this effected that we were but, as it seemed, a stone’s throw from her, and the beak of the galley, as she rose to the swell, pointed straight for the breach made by the storm in the waist of the galleon, when the watch on board of her had their suspicions all too tardily aroused. If they had heard the noise made by the running of the tackle when the sail was got down, they had not grasped its meaning; but they could hardly fail to guess readily enough what our appearance indicated as we dashed towards them, our deck showing an array of arquebusiers and spearmen, standing to their weapons.

The men of the Capitana began to rush to and fro, and suddenly the clear notes of a trumpet blared forth from her poop – the all-too-late summons to arms. Her helmsmen, now alert to the danger which menaced them, endeavoured to swing her round on her heel into the wind, so as to keep us off.

We had stopped rowing, and our men were resting with their hands on the heads and handles of their oars, waiting for the order to ship them, when, as the Spaniard went about, her side caught the oars on the right side of the galley, and I heard the sharp cracking and splintering of the wood of which they were made as they were broken in pieces, and the piercing cries, most lamentable to the ear, of the rowers as they were knocked from their benches and jammed together, a huddled, mangled mass of shrieking and cursing, of wounded and dying men.

Amid the din and outcry which attended this disaster to us, there arose the voice of Calvagh O’Halloran, the master of the rowers, encouraging, directing, and calming the others. What had befallen us was a serious matter, as it deprived us of any hope of getting away from the Capitana if our attack should prove unsuccessful.

I ran along the deck, telling our people to be of good heart, as all would yet be well; and, as nothing so inspired them as the war-cry of their tribe and the lust of fighting, I shouted loud and clear —

“O’Malley! O’Malley! O’Malley!”

The swinging of the Spaniard fended the galley off from her, so that there was a clear space for the breadth of a couple of oars, or a little more. As Calvagh got the rowers at work again, and The Cross of Blood went forward, the sides of the two ships grated together with a shock. They ground apart once again, and the water swished and swirled between them, foaming white and flecked with red as the blood of the rowers who had been injured dripped from the galley.

“On board, on board!” I cried. “A ring of gold to him who first boards her!” and I threw my battle-axe among her sailors. “Follow that!” I said.

The Irish were howling about me like hungry wolves, and The Cross of Blood shivered and trembled like a living thing as the rowers, Calvagh at their head, rushed from the benches, eager to revenge themselves for the death of their comrades of the oar, yelling hoarsely —

“O’Malley! O’Malley! O’Malley!” – the words stinging the ear like blows.

Now the sides of the vessels strained and groaned as again they smote together. The grappling-irons were fastened as they touched each other, and, regardless of the thrusts made at us, we together clambered up the Capitana’s side, entering by the breach over which the sailcloth had been stretched, and were immediately engaged in a hot and bloody fight, the issue of which stood in no kind of doubt from its commencement, as we far outnumbered the sailors in this part of the Spaniard.

One burly fellow came at me with a pike, but so uncertainly that I caught it from him with my left hand, and ran him through with the sword in my right. He dropped without a sound at my feet.

But while this contest was going on, and we were sweeping all before us, we soon were made to feel that, while so far successful, we were yet in a position of the greatest peril; for we were now assailed by shots from arquebuses fired down upon us both from the castle at the bows and that at the poop as well, and the air hummed with the arrows of our foes.

As there was no cover or protection of any kind where we stood, divers of our men fell sorely wounded, and some were slain outright. What the event was to bring forth then seemed nothing but our destruction, for we were caught, as it were, in a trap, and that one of our own making.

The doors leading into the castles were both shut, and, I conjectured, barricaded by this time against us. However, to remain where we were was to be slaughtered like cattle, and the attempt had to be made to force these entrances. The principal array of the enemy was in the poop castle, and I instantly decided that it must be stormed, else we should all perish miserably, and to break in the door was the readiest way.

Calling on the Irish to follow me, I strode across the slippery deck, a bullet narrowly missing me, to the arched doorway through which lay the way to the castle on the poop.

Whether it was that our assault had been so little looked for, or that what had already taken place had occupied so brief a breath, as one may say – for who can take count of time in the heat of battle? – I know not; but this entrance had not been strongly secured, for hurling myself impetuously with all my force against the barrier I burst the door open, and that so violently and quickly that I had much ado to keep myself from stumbling, and so being trampled upon and killed by my own men. Recovering myself with an effort, I found myself in a wide chamber, in which there were tables and chests and other furniture, but not a single soul was to be seen.

At one end of it was a flight of steps leading up to the deck of the castle. Stopping my men, I bade them wait in this sheltered room while I ascended the steps, and reached another large cabin, also deserted as far as I could see, while above me I heard the trampling of many feet. Summoning my followers, I dashed up a second flight of steps, the Irish, who gave tongue like bloodhounds tracking deer, pushing in and swarming up behind me.

I was like enough to have paid for my rashness with my life, for as I emerged upon the deck of the poop, the point of a sword flashed off my body-armour, and I received so shrewd a buffet upon my shoulder from a mace or battle-axe of some kind, that I nearly lost my footing, and, as it was, would have done so but for the press of men behind me.

As I appeared a crowd of Spaniards rushed upon me from all sides, praying to Our Lady and all the saints for their aid, and above all naming “Santiago.”

Now sweeping my sword in a great shining circle round my head, now stabbing and hacking and cleaving, while my strength seemed to grow with my necessity, I held them at bay, albeit in what way I escaped the deadly thrusts of spears and pikes, and the bullets aimed at me at such close quarters, I cannot tell.

Two or three slight wounds did I receive, and the sight of my own blood drove me into a perfect fury of killing, and rendered me regardless of myself; but as for the wounds themselves I heeded them not, and indeed in the fiery heat of that encounter scarce felt them at all. Soon, however, would I have been overborne and destroyed, if I had not been joined by Calvagh and the others, who charged upon the enemy with inconceivable fury.

Nothing could have stood before the tremendous outpouring of such incredible rage.

The gallant men of Spain fought on, and met us bravely, brave with something more than the courage which is born of dark despair. For, to say the truth, never yet saw I any of that nation – even of its commonalty – that might be called a coward.

It is my belief, and good reason have I for it, that no more doughty men ever wielded sword or pike than those of Spain, nor were there any better sailors in those days in all the world. There be many, who, having regard to what she was – this great power of Spain – and considering what has happened to her, and how she is now shorn in no small degree of her glory, can account for it in no other way than by saying that she lieth under the Wrath of God. Howbeit, this is too high a matter for me. Only know I full well that the crew of the Capitana, whether fighting men or sailors, made such a stern and grim battle against us that grey morning in the Bay of Galway, as the most valiant knights could not have bettered.

Near the centre of the poop there rose up a mast, and around this our enemies gathered in a cluster, among them being some half-armed men whom I took to be the adventurers whose ensigns floated beside the standard of the galleon, and who carried themselves with an air.

They had had no time to have their armour put upon them and fastened with proper care, but as they proved themselves to be accomplished swordsmen they made a determined resistance to us. If they had come at me when I appeared at the top of the steps, I should never have reached the deck of the poop alive; they had, however, tarried too long in the attempt to be clothed with their harness.

They were surrounded, and, though I offered them their lives, declaring that they would be held for ransom and would be well treated by Grace O’Malley, they would not listen to me, preferring rather to die, fighting, so long as the breath was in them, like the valiant men of Spain they were.

One only, who appeared to be the captain of the ship, I commanded to be taken alive – a business which was done with difficulty, so madly did he struggle, notwithstanding that the blood flowed in streams from several of his wounds.

“Yield yourself,” said I, “Señor Captain, for the ship is ours, and further fighting is useless. Give me your parole.”

But he refused, snarling and showing his teeth like a mad dog. Then I ordered him to be bound, and laid on the deck for the present.

The greater part of the galleon was now in our hands, but there still remained a band of Spaniards in the forecastle, who galled us with the fire from their pieces and the arrows of their bows. When they saw how their comrades had been overcome on the poop castle, they cut down the spar which had been lashed to the broken foremast, and using it and the sailcloth about it as a kind of barricade went on firing at us from behind this shelter.

Telling Calvagh, who had come out of the fight without a scratch, to take what men he thought needful, I directed him to attack the forecastle, and at the same time protected his assault of it by a discharge from the poop of a small cannon I found there loaded. This position of the Spaniards, however, was one of such strength that they inflicted heavy loss upon us before they were all put to the sword.

We were now masters of the entire vessel, but its capture had cost us dear. Fifteen of the Irish were killed, and as many more wounded, several of them seriously; and when the sun rose across the dim outline of the hills away beyond Galway its rays fell upon decks that ran dark with blood, and upon a wearied band of men, whose gasping breath came and went in sobs of pain, now that the excitement was past, and who threw themselves down in sheer exhaustion. I myself was sore spent, but the day was only begun, and the rest of the wine fleet might come into view at any moment. Therefore I bade my men rise up as soon as they had rested somewhat, and then endeavoured to put the Capitana into sailing trim.

While this was being done I shaped our course for Inisheer, remaining on the Capitana myself with some of my crew, and sending Calvagh to take charge of The Cross of Blood. I also had the captain of the galleon brought before me, to see if I could get any information from him about the other ships of the fleet.

“Señor Captain,” said I, “the chance of war has delivered you and your ship to me. Ye fought well, and I am grieved that so many valiant souls no longer see the light; yet would I have spared them, as many as I could, but they would not. You are in no danger of your life, if you will but answer the questions I ask of you.”

I spoke in English, my knowledge of Spanish being slight, but I judged that the captain of a ship trading to Ireland, and particularly to the English city of Galway, would be certain to understand the English tongue. At first it appeared, however, as if he did not comprehend my words.

“Kill me, kill me!” he exclaimed in Spanish, while his face was distorted with impotent rage.

Replying to him mildly that I had no intention of putting him to death, I informed him that I had no sufficient acquaintance with his own language, and therefore I was unable to converse with him in it.

“You surely understand English,” said I.

One of the Irish who was on guard over him thrust a dagger into him for an inch or more before I knew what he would be about, whereupon the Spaniard cursed him and us and himself and his ship and the day he was born in as good English as ever I heard.

“I shall tell you nothing,” said he. “No, by St. Jago, nothing, nothing, nothing!”

I felt a pity for the man, and told one of those standing near me to fetch him some wine, and that as speedily as might be, and again asked him if he were resolved to die; but he merely glared at me like a wild animal, and I left him alone, reserving him to be questioned by Grace O’Malley.

When the wine was brought he drank it thirstily, saying, “If it is poisoned, so much the better.”

And now we drew near again to Inisheer. Rounding the Point of Trawkeera, we dropped anchor beside the two other galleys, and my mistress came on board of our prize. When I told her of the great fight the Spaniards had made, and what it had cost us to take the ship, she sighed and became pensive.

“We can ill afford so many men,” she said, “but the other ships of the wine fleet may be captured or destroyed more easily. Bring the captain of the galleon to me, and let me see if I can learn anything from him of his companions.”

“He will say nothing,” I exclaimed.

Grace O’Malley’s face grew dark, but she merely repeated her command. When the Spanish captain was fetched in, he was struck with amazement when he beheld a woman, young, handsome, and, as some thought, beautiful, who appeared to be the chief and leader of us all. At first he gazed at her as one who sees an apparition or a phantom.

“Madre de Dios! Madre de Dios!” he said aloud in his astonishment, and for some time acted as one might who suspected that his sense of sight was playing him a trick. He was faint and pale from loss of blood, and presented a piteous appearance.

“Free him from his bonds,” said Grace O’Malley, and I cut away the thongs that held him.

“Señor Captain,” continued she when this had been done, “I have a quarrel with the Governor of Connaught and the people of Galway, who have treated me despitefully, – therefore has your galleon been taken.”

“You, Señorita!” he said.

“I was beguiled with fair words and promises,” said she, “and then they made me a prisoner, but I escaped from them. War have I declared against them, and a great revenge shall I take. You, I hear, are a brave man, and I have need of such in this contest with the English. Will you join me?”

“That will I not,” said he; and I heard him muttering to himself, “She is a devil.”

“Better consider before you speak,” said I, seizing his arm roughly.

“Let me be, let me be,” said he, “for I am a dying man!” And he swooned upon the deck. Reviving in a few minutes, he staggered to his feet, whereupon I put my arm round him for his support.

“Where are the other ships of the fleet, tell me,” said Grace O’Malley, “and how many are there?”

“You can kill me,” said he, “and I shall thank you for it, but that which I know I shall never tell you.”

And again I heard him muttering, “Devil, devil!” and calling upon “Santiago” to protect him from her spells.

Grace O’Malley gazed at him, and of a sudden there was in her eyes – what I never looked to see in them on such an occasion – a dew of tears springing from an unsuspected fount of pity. After all, she was a woman, as I have said.

“You are a brave man and a true,” said she, “and I will not plague you more. Let him die in peace,” cried she to me, “if die he must.”

As I was about to place him with his back against a mast so as to ease him, he made a snatch at the dagger which was in my belt; his fingers closed over it, but even as he grasped it his lips parted and his spirit fled.

“God rest thee, thou gallant mariner of Spain!” said Grace O’Malley, when she saw that the captain of the galleon was dead.

“Amen,” cried I, for the firmness of the man had seemed to me a very noble thing.