For a while, not a little of my pleasure in seeing her Majesty’s ships on the right side of the wind was lost by this untoward accident. And since the wind freshened increasingly during the day, and the Channel in those Straits is wickedly rough, I was soon too ill and out of humour to think of anything at all. I had more than one mind to venture an escape, and perhaps swim to the French coast. Yet, so long as Ludar was on the ship, I could not do it; and he in his grandee’s quarters was as close a prisoner from me as if he had still been in the Tower.
I was growing tired of the Invincible Armada, and thought with longing of the snug parlour in the printing house without Temple Bar, where I had sat of old, listening to the music of a certain sweet voice which now seemed all but lost to me in the howling of winds and booming of guns and grinding of Spanish teeth.
Where now was she, and that fair maiden whom Ludar loved? What hope were there of our ever meeting or hearing of one another’s fate?
The night passed, and as Sunday dawned, I could see the English ships still hovering not far to rearward; while across, toward the English coasts, shone many white sails, as of the greater Queen’s ships returning to join the fleet.
The wind slackened, so that the anchorage of the Armada, which had been sore strained in the night, held good; and with the French town so close on their flank, I thought, despite their loss of the wind, they rode safely enough where they were, and would have leisure to say mass and celebrate their popish rites without fear of disturbance that Sunday.
So it fell out. All day long bells sounded instead of cannons, and instead of powder the smoke of incense rose to where I perched. Moreover, I could guess, by the merry laughter which now and then came the same way, that their Don-ships were in better heart than yesterday. Perchance the Duke of Parma was already on his way.
As for the English, they lay quietly in their moorings, sparing powder and shot too, and, as it seemed, ready to wait on the Spaniard for the next move.
Towards nightfall, I seemed to detect a stir in their quarters; and presently some seven or eight moderate sized craft fell out of the line, and, with sails set, bore down our way. I marvelled very much that if an attack was to be made, it should be left to ill-armed craft like these to make it, while the greater ships hung idle at a distance. But I supposed it was but a device to take off the Spaniard’s notice from something else, and waited curiously to see the result.
They came leisurely towards us, those eight ugly craft, about a cable length apart, steering towards the very centre of our line. As they approached night fell rapidly. But still they held on. I could see their lights hoisted one by one, and strained my ears to catch the first sound of a shot.
Strange to say, they saved their powder. The last I saw of them, as night closed in, they were bearing down full in the wind, each with his cock-boat in tow, within a gunshot’s distance of the centre of our line. One of the Spaniards there gave them a disdainful shot, by way of challenge; but they gave never an answer.