A foundering cog, almost losing both the King and Prince of Wales, the attempted abduction of the royal household and all happening within sight of Winchelsea. What exciting times our forebears in this part of East Sussex lived through in the middle ages. Particularly so on 29 August 1350.
On that date, a sea battle occurred in the channel, one of many engagements during the misnamed 100 Years War (it lasted 116 years,) fought with France and her allies, because of the French decision to take control of the Duchy of Aquitaine, one of the English king’s French possessions. The war saw the destruction of many English coastal towns, among them, of course, Hastings, Rye and Winchelsea.
In the winter of 1349, the French king, Philip VI, commissioned Charles de la Cerda, a member of a cadet branch of the royal House of Castile in northern Spain, to lead a fleet against England. His own fleet had been wrecked by the English at the Battle of Sluys in 1340, whilst his land forces had suffered many losses. He was therefore greatly in need of hired mercenaries. He attacked several wine carrying English ships on their way from Bordeaux and, in the then usual manner, killed the crews by throwing them into the sea. On a further voyage, again taken at the behest of King Philip, he led a fleet of 47 ships laden with Spanish wool, from Corunna to Sluys. He again attacked English ships, dealing with their crews in the same, cruel way. On arrival in Sluys the flotilla moored to sit out the winter.
At the beginning of 1350, a truce between England and France was arranged by two emissaries of the pope. In fact, neither side was considering honouring it and were planning an escalation of hostilities. Part of the French plan was once more hiring Castilian ships to blockade the English ports on the Channel. The cost was 20,000 florins. Again, a truce was negotiated, specifically mentioning the Castilian ships. From June of that year King Philip was no longer paying them.
From that time the Castilians became pirates. They added what were called castles to the bow and stern of their trading ships, these fighting platforms turning them into warships. The Castilians were joined by several hundred men from Flanders, who were looking for adventure and taking what they could. Their attacks on English shipping were described by a contemporary chronicler as ‘bringing panic’ and ‘ferocious.’
The English king, Edward III, declared his intention to deal with the Castilian pirates when he was at Rotherhithe on August 10. His information about their movements and numbers was accurate and he ordered his fleet to assemble off the coast at Sandwich in Kent. The king, queen and princes travelled to Winchelsea. The fleet of 50 ships set sail from Sandwich on August 28. On board were the king, the Prince of Wales and his younger brother and a large number of the most senior peers of the realm. Most of the vessels in the royal fleet were smaller than the Castilians, but with it were a large number of fighting men including England’s feared longbowmen. Lord Morley, admiral of the Northern Fleet, was nominally in command, but the king was determined to be commander in chief. Two vessels were allocated to him, to serve as his hall, in which he would sail, and one for his wardrobe, temporary home for the royal household.
By afternoon of the 29th the royal fleet was at anchor off Dungeness. On board King Edward and his companions were relaxing, sitting in the sun on deck, listening to music and singing. All that was to change when, at about 4pm, the Castilian fleet was sighted, sailing towards them, driven by a wind from the east. The king and his compatriots toasted each other, then prepared to do battle. Seaborne artillery was then in its infancy, and was limited to small guns, intended to kill enemy crews, rather than sink ships. If small artillery was used, it would be the first time it was used in a sea battle. Instead, grappling irons and ropes were used, with boarding parties then trying to take over the ship. The English fleet reduced its sails, and the Castilians overtook them.
Cog Thomas was the king’s flagship. Coming in to grapple a Castilian ship, it struck the enemy hard, bringing down its mainmast, but causing its own timbers to spring out of place. The second attempt was successful, with bowmen preventing the Castilians dropping rocks on Cog Thomas, from their towering castles. Such was the difference in the size of the English and Castilian ships that one contemporary chronicler described it as ‘like castles to cottages.’ However, English courage ensured that the Castilian was taken, and King Edward raised his standard on her; an essential move as it was obvious that Cog Thomas could no longer stay afloat. The same had happened to the ship carrying Edward, the Prince of Wales. He and his men took over the ship that they had rammed and, in time-honoured fashion, promptly threw its crew overboard.
The crossbows of the Castilians, fired off from their castles, killed many of the English. Iron bars were thrown onto the English ships, causing injuries and severe damage to the frail wooden ships. The king’s household were onboard La Salle du Roi, which was itself caught by an enemy ship, which started to tow it away. They were saved by a valet of the La Salle du Roi’s commander named Hannekin, who bravely boarded the Castilian and cut the ropes holding the mainsail, which allowed English ships to catch up and rescue it.
By the end of the battle, it is said that between 14 and 26 Castilian ships had been taken by the English. There seems to be no clear, accurate record. In addition to King Edward, the Prince of Wales narrowly avoided a watery grave when his ship was sunk under him. We don’t know how many English ships were lost, but the fleet clearly suffered heavily. It is unlikely that any prisoners were taken, in line with the accepted practice of the day, that the losers, alive and wounded, were simply tossed overboard. After the battle, the remains of the English fleet anchored in Rye Bay, whilst the king went six miles inland, to join the queen at an abbey. King Edward was given the names Avenger of the Merchants and King of the Sea, and caused a gold coin to be struck to commemorate his victory.
The battle was clearly visible from English channel shores, and we are told that the cliffs around Winchelsea were thickly populated with people, watching the terrible drama unfold at sea.
Image Credits: Nick Forman .
Heraldic days ! Before generation bellyache took the helm . The allegedly bullied of
Whitehall wouldn’t have made it as far as the coast, still less out to sea.
Very many thanks, Michael Montagu for this evocative tale of derring do – and to Nick Forman also for the fine image too .
Great article. Thanks for revealing a hidden saga!
(PS: What on earth does this fascinating story have to do with Dominic Raab? It’s about the Hundred Years War, not the tedious Culture War…)
Quite right A Bacon – no place for lily-livers in those days! What a wonderfully evocative and informative account of medieval naval warfare and the gruesome price of failure! I thoroughly enjoyed it – many thanks Michael Montagu for this – a real “Boy’s Own” account of derring do!
As today is St George’s Day , the point raised was not about the DPM ( albeit , his anti-hunt views might flag him up as ‘lily-livered’ to some – thanks, D Lawson ) , but to compare the devotion of our swashbuckling forbears to the Crown ( and indeed today’s heroic armed forces ) and country with that of generation bellyache , for some of whom it would appear service can be a relative term . Caveat emptor .