l went ill with him. His troops
were defeated, his brother Louis was killed. He was still struggling,
helped by Elizabeth's money. But the odds were terrible, and the only
hope lay in the discontent of Alva's soldiers, who had not been paid
their wages, and would not fight without them. Philip's finances were
not flourishing, but he had borrowed half a million ducats from a house
at Genoa for Alva's use. The money was to be delivered in bullion at
Antwerp. The Channel privateers heard that it was coming and were on the
look-out for it. The vessel in which it was sent took refuge in
Plymouth, but found she had run into the enemy's nest. Nineteen or
twenty Huguenot and English cruisers lay round her with commissions from
Conde to take every Catholic ship they met with. Elizabeth's special
friends thought and said freely that so rich a prize ought to fall to no
one but her Majesty. Elizabeth thought the same, but for a more
honourable reason. It was of the highest consequence that the money
should not reach the Duke of Alva at that moment. Even Cecil said so,
and sent the Prince of Orange word that it would be stopped in some way.
But how could it decently be done? Bishop Jewel relieved the Queen's
mind (if it was ever disturbed) on the moral side of the question. The
bishop held that it would be meritorious in a high degree to intercept a
treasure which was to be used in the murder of Protestant Christians.
But the how was the problem. To let the privateers take it openly in
Plymouth harbour would, it was felt, be a scandal. Sir Arthur
Champernowne, the Vice-admiral of the West, saw the difficulty and
offered his services. He had three vessels of his own in Conde's
privateer fleet, under his son Henry. As vice-admiral he was first in
command at Plymouth. He placed a guard on board the treasure ship,
telling the captain it would be a discredit to the Queen's Government if
harm befell her in English waters. He then wrote to Cecil.
'If,' he said, 'it shall seem good to your honour that I with others
shall give the attempt for her Majesty's use which cannot be without
blood, I will not only take it in hand, but also receive the blame
thereof unto myself, to the end so great a commodity should redound to
her Grace, hoping that, after bitter storms of her displeasure, showed
at the first to colour the fact, I shall find the calm of her favour in
such sort as I am most willing to hazard myself to serve her Majesty.
Great pity
|