One of Britain’s Greatest Naval Disasters: The Cadiz Expedition of 1625:
In 1625, Britain suffered one of its greatest naval blunders against Spain when a massive force of 100 ships and 15.000 men attempted to raid Cádiz and seize the Spanish treasure fleet. The campaign required a huge financial investment but ultimately yielded almost nothing in return. The failed expedition caused significant political backlash for King Charles I and his close advisor, the Duke of Buckingham. This episode arguably marked the beginning of the decline for the ill-fated Stuart king, whose popularity plummeted after the disastrous venture to Cádiz.
It all began before Charles ascended the throne, while his father, James I—the first king of the House of Stuart—was still in power. After a history marked by strained relations, bloodshed, and political intrigue, England sought to improve its relationship with the dominant superpower of the time: Spain. Religion played a significant role in the ongoing tension between the two kingdoms. Since England's break with Rome, the staunchly Catholic Spaniards had viewed the island nation with disdain.
Although King James I was baptized Catholic, he was raised Protestant and understood that the monarchy's strength relied on a strong Anglican Church, and consequently the persecution of Catholics continued. Nevertheless, James I hoped to secure an alliance with Spain by arranging a marriage between his son Charles and the Infanta Maria Anna. The whole marriage deal collapsed, however, and the disillusioned Prince Charles, along with the Duke of Buckingham, now pursued a different course in dealing with Spain: war!
Charles and Buckingham convinced King James to summon a new Parliament in 1624, which strongly advocated for war with Spain. However, there was a lot of mutual distrust between James and Parliament: James feared they wouldn’t fund the war, while Parliament feared he wouldn’t go through with the plan after the funds had been given. After James died, Charles took over, assuming that Parliament would provide funds if he pursued their war policy, but this assumption proved overly optimistic.
Eventually Parliament was convinced by the new king and war was declared on Spain. Buckingham, as Lord High Admiral, began preparing the expedition with two main objectives: to capture Spanish treasure ships from the Americas and to attack Spanish towns to disrupt their economy.
Success was crucial, as this would encourage Parliament to fund other future campaigns of Charles and Buckingham. By October 1625, around 100 ships and 15,000 soldiers and sailors were assembled for the Cádiz expedition, supported by 15 Dutch warships.
Some of the Dutch ships remained in the Channel to protect the waters from enemy attack, while others joined the English raid. Sir Edward Cecil, an experienced soldier but inexperienced at sea, was appointed commander—a choice that would later be seen as poor judgment.
The fleet set sail from Plymouth on October 6, 1625, but encountered severe storms. Although no ships from the Allied fleet sank, some were forced to turn back. The harsh weather delayed the mission and prevented them from intercepting the Spanish treasure fleet in time.
When they finally reached Cádiz, Cecil managed to capture the fort guarding the harbor, but the city itself was more heavily fortified than he had anticipated. Furthermore, miscommunication and hesitation among the English allowed the Spanish ships in Cádiz to escape. It was at this point that the English began to realize how poorly they had prepared for the expedition, lacking sufficient food and water for the troops. Nevertheless, Cecil and his forces pressed on.
The English commander then ordered the capture of Puntal tower, an unnecessary move as the fortification provided no strategic advantage for further efforts against Cádiz. Afterward, the men began looting the surrounding houses and discovered a warehouse full of wine. Most of Cecil’s troops became so drunk that he could no longer control them.
To make matters worse, Spanish troops arrived and attacked the intoxicated English soldiers, who stood no chance against their sober opponents. It is said that the English were so drunk they didn't bother using their guns, defending themselves with swords instead. Around 1,000 Englishmen were slaughtered, and the remaining troops fled back to the ships.
Facing significant losses, low morale, and no real gains, Cecil made the drastic decision to abandon the siege of Cádiz. He pinned his last hopes on capturing some Spanish treasure ships, but his attempt to intercept the returning galleons from the New World also failed, as the Spanish had been warned of the English presence and took an alternate route.
With disease spreading and supplies running low, Cecil called off the mission and returned to England in December 1625. The expedition was a costly failure, yielding little and with the total costs estimated at £250,000.
However, the House of Commons was far less forgiving. In the Parliament of 1626, they initiated impeachment proceedings against Buckingham. To avoid a successful impeachment, Charles dissolved Parliament. The king's popularity waned and would continue to decline during a reign marked by poor decisions, ultimately leading to his downfall and execution.
Olivier Goossens
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On this day in 1940, Swordfish torpedo bombers from HMS Illustrious launched a successful surprise attack against the Italian fleet at anchor at Taranto, disabling three battleships and damaging one heavy cruiser and two destroyers.
"Mussolini has become boastful; he has got into the habit of referring to the Mediterranean as ‘Mare Nostrum’, which means ‘our sea’. We are going to change all that ... we are going to change it to ‘Cunningham’s Pond’. I tell you that with no uncertain voice..."
On the night of November 11-12, 1940, 21 British biplanes, Fairey Swordfish torpedo bombers, took off from HMS Illustrious with one daring target in mind: the Italian fleet in Taranto. These “Stringbags,” often mocked for their outdated design, were about to make history
Italy had declared war on Britain just months before, in June 1940, opening a new and dangerous front in the Mediterranean. Mussolini’s navy, unlike Germany’s, had the power to disrupt British control, threatening key routes like the Suez Canal.
On this day in 1914, the Royal Navy suffered its greatest loss in over a century: the infamous Battle of Coronel.
🌊 (1/8) The Battle of Coronel, off central Chile's coast on November 1, 1914, was a devastating loss for the Royal Navy. Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock's squadron was annihilated by German Admiral Maximilian von Spee, prompting a swift response from the British Admiralty.
(2/8) ⛴️ Prior to Coronel, the Royal Navy had been scouring the Pacific for months, seeking Spee’s German East Asia Squadron with the help of the Japanese. Britain aimed to neutralize Spee’s commerce raiders, which had relocated from the Far East to South America after Japan joined the war on Britain’s side.
(3/8) 📡 In October 1914, British intelligence intercepted a German radio message revealing Spee’s plan to target shipping along South America's western coast. Cradock’s West Indies Squadron was deployed, featuring older ships that were no match for Spee’s modern cruisers.
Fighting Napoleon’s Continental System: The Second Battle of Copenhagen (1807)
The city of Copenhagen was a familiar sight for some of the British sailors. In 1801, Nelson achieved one of his lesser-known victories here. At the time, Denmark had joined the League of Armed Neutrality, jeopardizing Britain’s vital imports of hemp, tar, and timber from Scandinavia—supplies critical for the Royal Navy.
The year is 1807. Nelson has been dead for two years, but his legacy endures. The French lack the resolve and resources to challenge the British in another major open-sea engagement. The threat of invasion had faded.
Napoleon, having abandoned the idea of invading Britain, decided to bring his archenemy to its knees through economic warfare. In 1806, he issued the Berlin Decree, which forbade any European port from receiving British shipping.
The Birth of a Legend: The Construction of HMS Victory
The year is 1758, and the Seven Years' War has been raging around the world for nearly two years with no clear victor in sight. The Royal Navy was working tirelessly to deliver a decisive victory for king and country. On 14 July, Prime Minister William Pitt the Elder ordered the construction of 12 additional ships of the line to bolster the fleet, including one first-rater. A few days later, at Chatham Dockyard, construction began on a leviathan destined to change the course of history.
When the keel of the Victory was laid down, no one could have predicted the name she would eventually bear—a name once marred by tragedy. The previous Victory, launched in 1737, was also a first-rate ship of the line. Unlike her successor, however, this Victory had a brief and ill-fated career. On the night of October 4–5, 1744, the massive battleship foundered during a violent storm in the English Channel.
Initially, it was deemed inappropriate to revive such an unlucky name. However, at the insistence of William Pitt the Elder, the name was given new life after Britain celebrated one of the most successful military years in its history: 1759. During this annus mirabilis, the Royal Navy decisively defeated both the French Mediterranean and Atlantic fleets, leaving French forces in Canada completely isolated. Following the fall of Quebec, the fate of North America was effectively sealed. To commemorate this extraordinary series of victories, Pitt insisted that the next first-rate ship bear the name Victory. The name was officially bestowed in October 1760.
Who was the boatswain in Nelson's time?
(1/8) The warrant officer with perhaps the most notorious reputation was the boatswain. The boatswain is perhaps one of the oldest attested ranks in the Royal Navy, with its history dating back to the days of the Anglo-Saxon ruler Edward the Confessor (r. 1042–1066 CE). The word derives from the Old English compound batswegen, consisting of the elements bat (‘boat’) and swain (‘apprentice, follower, servant, young man’).
(2/8) Just like other warrant officers, the boatswain was appointed by a paper warrant from the Navy Board, instead of a commission on parchment issued by the Board of Admiralty and reserved for higher-ranking officers. In the time of Nelson, the boatswain was in charge of the boats, sails, colours, anchors, cables, and cordage. Having risen from the ranks of seamen, he was usually a man of respectable age, sourcing his vast knowledge on these matters from years of experience. Before receiving the warrant of boatswain, however, a one-year trial with the captain as a petty officer was obligatory. Another requirement was that he be literate, as per Admiralty Regulations, a rule obligatory for all warrant officers.
(3/8) If a man was finally appointed boatswain, he immediately sprang into action, checking on a daily basis the ship’s rigging, chains for repairing the rigging, and the sails. He had the ropemaker under his command, as well as the sailmaker, making sure he stored the sails in the locker correctly to keep them dry. He was responsible for general order upon deck. He made sure the sailors did not hang their clothes to dry in the rigging or use the ship’s fresh water supply to wash them. When in port, he was entrusted to keep the yards square and prevent ropes from trailing overboard. If weather permitted, he would haul down one of his boats and row around the ship to make sure the outward trim was in good order. During battle, the boatswain took command of the forecastle.
At her conception, Collingwood was not intended as the prototype of a new class but rather as a one-off response by Sir Nathaniel Barnaby, Director of Naval Construction, to the French Amiral Baudin and Terrible-class ironclads. His final design echoed Devastation with fore-and-aft main armament in barbettes, set higher above the waterline, but the Admiralty altered it by lengthening the hull, adding horsepower for a 15-knot speed, and substituting smaller guns. These changes, along with lines taken from Colossus, increased displacement by 2,500 tons.
Barnaby’s design drew sharp criticism, particularly from Sir Edward Reed, for concentrating the armour belt amidships and leaving the ends unprotected. Barnaby countered this by narrowing the hull ends, adding a protective deck below the waterline, heavy subdivision, and coal bunkers to absorb shell fragments. In 1884 flooding trials showed the ship lost little speed but suffered poor buoyancy at the bow, shipping spray, and heavy rolling—traits that earned her a reputation as a bad seaboat. Nevertheless, her basic configuration set the pattern for later British ironclads and predreadnoughts until Dreadnought (1905).