On only one occasion did the English attempt to emulate the successes of the Elizabethan sea-dogs, and that proved disastrous. In 1625, infuriated by the Catholic court's rejection of his suit for the hand of the Infanta of Spain, Charles I sent Sir Edward Cecil (later ennobled as Baron Cecil of Putney and Viscount Wimbledon) with ninety ships and ten thousand men, on an expedition against Spain.



Sir Edward's previous job, which was perhaps better suited to his talents, had been Warden of the Royal Preserve of the River Wandle. In every aspect of its planning, the expedition was ill-inspired, and Cecil, who had distinguished himself as a soldier in the Low Countries, proved a worthless commander in Spain.

His ships were leaky and not fit to go to sea; there was no provision for the horses; the men were crying out for victuals, and some had nothing to drink save a “beverage of cider that stinks worse than carrion.” Any hope for cocktails () or anything strong enough to help them sleep was a lost cause.

After landing on the coast of Andalusia, they marched against the fortress of El Puntal, just outside Cadiz, and besieged it with cannon. After two days it had to surrender. This rather futile victory gave the Spaniards time to prepare the city's defenses, but all their work proved unnecessary: the British army was defeated by a bodega of sherry.

When the soldiers marched against the city, they had neither food nor drink to place upon their coaster sets (). An ill-disciplined mob at the best of times, they were hungry, thirsty, and rebellious when they reached a house with a bodega of wine owned by Don Luis de Soto, the hereditary commander of Cadiz, whose descendants are today amongst the prominent citizens of Jerez. The British commander, thinking his troops would be appeased by a little refreshment, gave them permission to take some wine:

“Wee came ... to a Gentlemans house; in which was 100 Tonnes of wine. Our Army quartered close by the house— Behind it on the side of a hill, on the Top whereof was another house with as much more wyne all in Iron bound caskes soe that I think it was appoynted for the Indies.

“The Generall gave to every Regiment a Tonne of Wyne, which with the liberty to Drinke that carryed them to the house, where they forced a way into the Cellers, made them so Drunke that there was noe place for obedience to the officers, and the Generall Commaunded his guards to shoote at one vnruly company through the gate, whoe would have broken it open.

“I did never thinke myself to bee in soe much Daunger, for certainely the enemy with 300 men might have rowted vs and cutt our throates ... since Sunday morning ... the most part of the souldiers had not eaten any thing... Wee marched away and left soe many of our men vpon the place soe Drunke as they were not able to stirre.

“The wine in the house vpon the hill I thinke was not touched. The other wine was lett out, and wee left some souldiers tumbling by thee drink coasters . Many of our men with Drunkenes fell downe by the way, all which the enemy Killed. They followed vs with 2000 foote, but never came neere to skirmishe with us...”

There was no need for the Spaniards to fight: the British were utterly defeated. That expedition cost the Crown thirty ships and a thousand men, and it would have cost many more had there not been a muddle in the command of the Spanish army. One soldier, Richard Peecke, of Tavistock, was captured by the Spaniards, tried by battle and released. When he got back to England he wrote a book about his experiences, of which the frontispiece reads:

Three to One:

Being, An English Spanish Combat

Performed by a Westerne Gentleman, of Tauystoke in Devonshire

With an English Quarter Staffe, against Three Spanish

Rapiers and Poniards, at Sherries in Spaine,

The fifteene day of November, 1625.

In the presence of Dukes, Condes, Marquises, and other Great

Dons of Spaine, being the Counsell of Warre.

The author of this Booke, and Actor in this Encounter, R. Peecke.

It is perhaps the earliest English document in which the town of Jerez is spelt “Sherries,” though the wine had been referred to as sherry many years earlier. In the text he refers to “Sherrys, otherwise called Xerez.”

Peecke was a remarkable character, and the whole of his narrative is well worth reading; it is reproduced by Edward Hutton in his Cities of Spain, but the reader will be puzzled to decide how much is truth and how much fiction. A contemporary letter-writer, Dr Meddus, described him in a somewhat off-hand way as: “one Pyke, a common soldier, left behind the fleet at Cadiz.”