Shipwreck at Streedagh Sept 21st 1588

On the deck of the Lavia Francisco De Cuellar stood helpless amidst the chaos as the ship was blown towards land. ‘a huge gale hit us broadside on with waves reaching the sky that the cables couldn’t hold and the sails were no use, so that we found ourselves hurtling ashore onto a beach of very fine sand, hemmed in at either end by tremendous rocks. The likes of this had never been seen for, within the hour, our three ships broke up completely, with less than three hundred men surviving. Over a thousand drowned, among them many important people, captains, gentlemen and regular officers.’

Some 400yds from Streedagh strand the ships ran aground, keeled sideways on the sandy bottom, and took a heavy battering from the incoming waves. Men began to die. Onboard The Lavia De Cuellar and De Aranda held on for dear life. De Cuellar, recalling the scene at Streedagh a year later, described what happened. ‘I placed myself on top of the poop of my ship after commending myself to God and Our Lady, and from there began to observe the whole appallingly sad scene: many men drowned inside the ships, while others jumped into the water never to come up again; others were on rafts and barrels, or astride planks; others were shrieking in the ships, calling on God for help; the captains throwing their gold chains and gold coins into the sea; others were swept away by the waves which scooped them from right inside the ships……… when any of our men reached the shore, two hundred savages and other enemies went up to him and took everything he was wearing until he was left stark naked. In fact, survivors were pitilessly beaten up and wounded; and all of this could be plainly seen from the broken-up ships, and I didn’t at all like what was happening in either place.

The ship was being battered to pieces by the waves and was disintegrating rapidly. Very few were left onboard as most of the officers and men had either jumped or were washed overboard. Those still onboard had only a few minutes left in order to try to save themselves. As De Aranda had saved De Cuellar’s life so Francisco now attempted to save the life of his friend. Neither man could swim so, looking around, Francisco decided ‘to place myself on a piece of the ship that hadn’t broken off, and the Judge Advocate followed me, weighed down with gold coins sewn into his doublet and hose. But there was no way of getting this timber to detach itself completely from the side of the ship because it was fastened by great iron chains, and was being battered by waves and looses timbers which were causing us, too, terrible injuries. So I tried to find another solution, which was to take a hatch-cover the size of a decent table which, by the grace of God, happened to be to hand and, when I tried to lie on it, I was plunged six fathoms under the water and swallowed so much of it I was almost drowned. When I surfaced again, I shouted to the Judge Advocate to get him on to the board with me but, as we were moving away from the ship, there came on top of us such an enormous wave that crashed down on us with such force that the Judge Advocate couldn’t hold on and was swept away by the wave and drowned. He kept shouting as he was drowning, calling on God. But there was nothing I could do to help him because, as the board was weighed down on one side only, it began to spin around with me on top, and at that moment a piece of timber smashed into my legs. Plucking up all my courage, I positioned myself well on my board and, after invoking Our Lady of Hontanar, was swept ashore-without knowing how and unable to swim-by a succession of four waves and emerged, unable to stand, covered in blood and in a very wretched state.’

De Cuellar had been flung headlong from one storm into the middle of another maelstrom on the beach. Half-drowned he struggled to get out of the water. While the storm continued to rage Streedagh strand was a frenzy of activity. Crowds of people had been drawn to the beach while the ships broke up and as survivors and the bodies of those drowned in the water began to wash up on the sand the looters set to work robbing the living, stripping the dead, carrying away everything else that washed ashore from the ships. Within the hour the ships had disintegrated. Anybody who hadn’t made it to the shore was now doomed. De Cuellar staggered away from the water while on all sides people were busy stripping those who managed to swim ashore. Spaniards wandered around the strand in shock, naked and shivering in the cold. Francisco, with his clothes, hands and legs covered in blood was left alone. His injuries were severe. He could only limp very slowly as his legs had been crushed by wreckage in the water.

Bit by bit De Cuellar moved away from the chaos on the beach. Streedagh strand is lined by a series of high dunes behind which a lagoon separates the strand from the mainland. Somewhere in the vicinity of these dunes De Cuellar hid in the long grass and remained here until dusk fell. The sun sets around Streedagh at about 7.30pm in the evening during late September. As it got dark the storm had almost blown over. The winds started to drop and the sea was beginning to calm. De Cuellar was joined by another Spaniard, a young man who had been stripped naked. He was in a state of shock. He didn’t reply when Francisco asked him his name. Unable to speak he simply lay down beside De Cuellar. It was a harrowing time for the two hungry, shivering survivors. One man was badly injured, the other in severe shock. Neither had any idea where they were other than that it was the west coast of Ireland. Both men were exhausted, cold and wet, without any food or shelter. The people on the beach had been hostile. De Cuellar had seen survivors being beaten up and robbed as they emerge from the surf. If their hiding place was discovered now they would be in no condition to defend themselves.

They were discovered by two armed men, one had an axe, the other a musket. The men approached as De Cuellar and his comrade lay quiet and still. They didn’t attack, instead, seeing the terrible state of the Spaniards ‘they felt sorry for us; so without saying a word to us, they cut plenty of rushes and hay and covered us up very well. Then they went to the strand to ransack and break open chests and whatever they found there.’ While large crowds ransacked the booty being washed ashore the two exhausted Spaniards, now completely hidden from view fell asleep. Sometime during the night De Cuellar awoke to the sound of a large group of horsemen arriving on the beach. He called to his companion to see if he was awake but there was no reply. The young man had died adding one more corpse to the hundreds which now littered the vicinity of Streedagh. In the darkness as De Cuellar lay grieving the death of his unnamed companion he must have wondered how in the name of the Lord the greatest fleet that ever sailed could have been so forsaken by their God and brought to this pitiful condition on such a windswept desolate coastline.