CHAPTER XXX
PARDON AND HAPPINESS
The final blow which sent the Armada flying northward had been given. With not a single ship taken and but one, the small bark of Cock, lost, and not more than sixty men killed, the English fleet sent up a pæan of joy, and drew up for conference before following further the fleeing enemy.
“Ye two,” said the lord admiral to Francis and Devereaux, “seeing that ye lie under Her Most Sovereign Majesty’s displeasure, shall bear to her the tidings of our victory. None deserve it more, and, please God, by so doing ye shall win pardon from her. As for me I shall on after the Spaniard as long as provisions and ammunition will permit.”
And so it came about that Francis and Devereaux proceeded to the camp at Tilbury, where the queen was at this time. She was dining in the tent of Lord Leicester, the lieutenant general of the land forces, herself being 322 the generalissimo, when they arrived. There were present, beside the queen and the earl, Sir Francis Walsingham, who had come down from London for conference with the queen; Hatton, the vice chamberlain, the young Earl of Essex who, despite his inexperience, had been made the captain-general of the cavalry, and Lord Shrope, who had hastened to return to England upon hearing of his country’s peril. Francis flashed a glance of joyful recognition at him, but was deterred from other greeting by the presence of the queen.
Elizabeth had risen at their approach, and when the girl beheld her high pale forehead furrowed by lines of care, the lofty features sharpened by anxiety, she felt her heart glow toward her sovereign and the last feeling of animosity which had lain so long in her heart faded away never to return. It was therefore with a sincere feeling of reverence that she knelt before Elizabeth, who had shown herself at this time to be a true daughter of the lion-hearted Plantagenets.
“Ye bear messages from the lord admiral,” cried the queen somewhat anxiously. “Rise, 323 Edward Devereaux, and deliver thyself of them.”
“Most gracious madam,” said Edward, rising gracefully, “the strength of the enemy is broken. Dispirited and distraught they fly before the lord admiral. Madam, the Armada is no more. Here are letters writ by Lord Howard, in which he gives the victory in detail.”
“Now God be praised,” ejaculated the queen, “but this is news indeed. My Lord of Essex, do you spread the tidings throughout the camp that my loving people may rejoice with me. Thy indulgence, Master Devereaux, while I peruse my Lord Howard’s dispatches. Retain thy place that I may confer with thee later.”
Rapidly she glanced over the epistles, and then turned to the assembled lords.