Early one morning in November of 1588 the villagers of Anstruther on the East coast of Scotland awoke to find a ship in their harbour with over 250 starving Spanish Armada sailors and soldiers on board. We know this because the local minister of the time, James Melville, wrote about it in the extensive diaries he kept.
I discovered Melville's diaries as I came to the end of writing my first book in series,
The Castilians, about the 1546 siege of St Andrews Castle, sixteen miles away. Fascinated by the story of the Armada that came to the East Neuk I determined to write about it next – until fellow author Margaret Skea pointed out the length of time which separated the two events. 'A lot can happen to your characters in forty years,' she said.
And so I wrote,
The Seton Chronicles, a five book series which spans the remarkable changes as the reformation took hold in Europe and has my characters fleeing for their lives through Geneva, Antwerp, Venice, Frankfurt and Constantinople. But now, in the final book in series,
The Pittenweemers, I finally returned to Scotland, delving into James Melville diaries once more to explore the remarkable story of the Armada in Anstruther.
James VI of Scotland was a ten month old baby when he last saw his mother Mary Queen of Scots, who had been held prisoner by the queen of England for nineteen years. Nevertheless he corresponds regularly with Elizabeth and pleads with her to spare Mary, even suggesting that someone whose father had executed his own bedfellow should not follow suit.
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| Queen Elizabeth I - Armada portrait |
His pleas were disregarded and Mary, Queen of Scots was beheaded by her cousin Elizabeth of England in 1587. That a queen appointed by God should behead another queen, also appointed by God, sent shock waves around Europe. Philip of Spain, already made furious by Sir Francis Drake's piracy on Spanish ships and attack on Cadiz began to gather the largest fleet ever seen, often by 'acquiring' merchant ships within his domain. His purpose was nothing less than to conquer England.
Scotland had been Protestant for 28 years and tales of the coming of the Spanish Armada along with rising fears about the year 1588, which had long been prophesied as catastrophic had people fearful – actually terrified would be more accurate. Here's my character Will, minister of Pittenweem, thoughts on the matter …
It was an unusually stormy summer with a resulting poor
harvest and an inevitable rise in food prices, and that,
combined with the increasing rumours of various
sightings of the Spanish Armada off Scotland, caused
grave anxiety amid Will’s flock. Given the disquietude,
Will considered it most unfortunate that there continued
to be an outpouring of predictions about the significance
of the year. Sitting at a board strewn with papers one
morning in early August, he leaved through a discourse
written by an Englishman.
This Richard Harvey was
claiming they should all expect either a dissolution or
a wonderfull horrible alteration of the worlde in this year of
our Lord fifteen hundred and eighty-eight. Harvey wrote
in tortured tones, Will could almost hear his voice and a
certain relish in his doomsaying, that the disorder would
swell until it culminated in a thunderous crescendo, after
which irrevocable changes would be embedded – or
‘poof’, Will flicked his fingers – the world would be
consumed by a fiery cataclysm. But then, judging by
what the astrologers were discovering, that was not so
improbable. Comets did shoot across the sky, and what
was to prevent those blazing implements of Satan from
crashing into the world? And the movement of stars
could and did cause an imbalance in the body’s humours – and all this was yet another way in which God
punished sinners.
Will sat staring at his desk unseeing for a long time.
Eventually he stood up, went out into the rain-soaked
garden and gazed up at the ominous dark clouds forming
and reforming above. These astronomers and astrologers were
like a den of dragons blasting out burning air imputing
all failings of nature, accidents of misfortune, oversights
and errors to the skies and revelling in their prophecies of
perdition.
Nevertheless, his heart did quail when he thought on
the most recent prophecy, which claimed that it was in
this year the impact of the perilous conjunction of the
planets five years ago was to be realised. Yet if the world
was to be blessed by the second coming of Christ, as some
prophesied, then that could only be a matter of joy – after
the cataclysm.
And James Melville writes of attending the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland in Edinburgh and how terrible was the fear,
piercing was the preaching, earnest and fervent the
prayers amid the abounding sighs and sobs, for if Philip took England he would likely then take Protestant Scotland.
August of 1588 and the 130 odd ships that make up the Armada are defeated by the smaller and more manoeuvrable ships under the direction of Sir Francis Drake – and the terrible storms. Around sixty ships are blown up the East coast of Scotland many foundering off Orkney, Shetland, Fair Isle, Ireland and one on Norway. Every attempt to return to Spain was thwarted and the sailors, soldiers, priests and interpreters of the Armada not unnaturally assumed that God had turned against them.
El Gran Grifón ran aground off Fair Isle with over 300 hundred men on board. The captain, Gómez de Medina (not to be confused with the overall Armada commander, the Duke de Medina Sidonia) had rescued men from other ships which sunk, in direct contravention of King Philip's orders. The few households on Fair Isle were unable to provide food for starving men and fifty died. It is of note that there's no reports of them taking from the islanders by force and the captain, known to his men as El Buen – The Good – lived up to his epithet.
Armada Chest, complete with complex locking system, at Traquair House
The Spanish may not have had any provisions left but they had gold. Gómez de Medina found his way to Orkney, rescued his men and acquired a ship. It was November by now and the storms had not much abated. Their ship foundered off Anstruther and Medina came ashore to seek help. Here's the scene again from the perspective of my character Will …
Medina continued as though the interpreter hadn’t
spoken. ‘His glorious grace King Philip brought together
a mighty fleet and army to avenge the intolerable wrongs and grievous injustices inflicted upon the peoples of the
Spanish Empire by the treacherous nation of England.
But for our sins, God has turned against us, driving us
past the coast of England and subjecting us to storms sent
by divine providence over the past several months. Many
of our ships have sunk in merciless seas or been dashed
against inhospitable shores. Those few of us whom God
has chosen to survive have endured bitter cold and
suffered great hunger. We come here to kiss the hand of
the king of the Scots ...’ Medina paused here and bowed
low once more ‘... and beg of you to render us assistance.’
Will watched James Melville and sent up a prayer that he
would show a true spirit of kindness, as Jesus Christ
would have done.
Melville began to speak. ‘Our friendship cannot be
great, seeing your king and you are friends to the greatest
enemy of Christ – the Pope of Rome. Our king and we
defy that son of Satan and his cause against our
neighbours and special friends of England.’ Melville
paused to let the translator catch up. ‘And yet we, as
Christians of a better religion, are moved by compassion.
A compassion that is not manifest to our merchants
residing among you with peaceable intent pursuing their
lawful affairs who have been violently taken and cast in
prison, their goods and gear confiscated and their bodies
committed to the cruel flaming fire in the cause of
religion. But among us you will find nothing but Christian
pity and mercy, leaving God to work in your hearts
concerning religion as it so pleases Him – for we will give
you assistance.’
And so Melville permitted two hundred and fifty men to come ashore. The people of the village were so horrified at the sight of these starving mostly young and beardless men that they ran into their houses and brought them food.
Rumour has it that James Melville was rewarded for his largesse with some of the Spanish gold – and he did build a rather large manse soon after.
Those who came ashore in Scotland and Ireland – many of whom were slaughtered as they staggered up the beaches for their clothes and 'gold' – made their way to Edinburgh, perhaps expecting a sympathetic welcome since James VI was the son of the poor beheaded Mary, even if he was a Protestant. The Catholic leaning nobles wined and dined the captains however the men, somewhere in the region of a thousand of them including priests, were starving vagrants on the streets. Eventually ships were sent and they were re-patriated to Spain.
Gómez de Medina's ancestors were Jews and his grandfather was burned at the stake – a point of significance within my overall story of The Setons, since some of my characters are Conversos (Jews who were forced to convert to Catholicism). King Philip had demanded that all his captains be 'pure' but those tasked with checking this ran out of time to inquire of the Inquisitor of Seville about Medina's family background.
Truth is so often much stranger than fiction – and this is what I love about writing historical fiction!
V.E.H. Masters is the award winning author of the best selling series
The Seton Chronicles. Her first novel The Castilians is set in her home town and tells the story of the siege of St Andrews Castle. You can find out more at
https://vehmasters.com/ where three free short stories telling more of The Setons are available to download.
References:
Armada by Colin Martin and Geoffrey Parker
The Diaries of James Melville – National Library of Scotland
