And then began a fierce fight which was waged with varying success. For, while in one place the English valiantly rescued the ships of London which were hemmed in by the Spaniards, in another Recaldo, being in danger, was disengaged with no less resolution by the Spaniards. Never before was such lightning and thunder of artillery heard, most of which, notwithstanding, went vainly from the Spanish, flying clear over the English ships. Only Cock, an Englishman, died gloriously in the midst of his enemies upon his own small bark.
The English ships being of lesser build than the Spanish invaded the Spaniards with great dexterity and having discharged their ordnance withdrew into the open sea and leveled all their shot with a certain and successful aim at the ponderous Spanish vessels.
And still the English admiral thought it not best to grapple and risk the fortune of a hand-to-hand fight. For the enemy had a 310 strong and well appointed army aboard which he lacked, and, their ships standing higher than his own vessels, threatened nothing less than certain destruction to those fighting them from below. This was the most fierce and bloody skirmish of all, though it only resulted in the capture of one huge galleon and a few small craft by the English. There was a mutual cessation of hostilities for all the next day for the wind fell dead and each fleet was compelled to drift idly with the tide.
The calm was still unbroken when the next day dawned, the twenty-fifth day of the month sacred to St. James, the patron saint of Spain. A small galleon of Portugal called the Saint Anne being unable to keep pace with the rest of the fleet was set upon by a number of small English craft, seeing which three of the great galleasses rowed furiously to her aid. Lord Howard’s Ark Royal, the Golden Lion of his brother, Lord Sheffield’s Bear, and others towed by fisher boats met them with such salvos of shot that, had not the Spanish fleet come up to rescue them, they would have shared the fate of Valdez. After this time the galleasses would not fight again. The 311 wind sprang up by noon and the fight became general. All afternoon it raged, and then, terribly battered, the Armada would fight no more; but, “gathering into a roundel” set all sail for Calais, where Medina hoped to find a force from the French to help him and then to Dunkirk to join with Parma and the great flotilla of the Netherlands.
And so with a full southwest wind the Spanish fleet went on, the English fleet following them. It was determined not to attack them until they reached the straits of Calais, where Lord Seymour and William Winter would join the navy.
Meantime Lord Howard conferred Knighthood upon John Hawkins, Martin Frobisher, Thomas Howard, Lord Sheffield and Roger Townsend for valor and fortitude. And now from every bay and harbor of England there put forth numbers of small craft hired by the youth of England, who hastened to join themselves to the fleet, for the Spanish fleet, though battered and dispirited, was not yet broken, and should it be joined by the forces which Medina expected all would indeed go ill with England. 312
The Armada anchored in Calais Roads and within cannon shot of it lay the English fleet. The next day being the Sabbath both fleets observed the day with appropriate services, the loud chants of the Spaniard mingling strangely with the hymns of the English.
Francis Stafford, wearied and fatigued, retired to the cabin and, finding it deserted, swung a hammock in one corner and clambering into it was soon fast asleep.
“I tell thee, Drake,” ’twas the voice of Lord Howard that awakened her, “the queen must have been inspired to invent so ingenious a device. If it succeeds——”
“It will succeed, my lord,” interrupted Drake positively, “That is if there can be found men who will adventure it. But it will take cool heads and stout hearts and an absolute fearlessness of danger. I think I know two men who will go but there must be others.”