There was some idea in the King’s mind that he would be able to do this without a battle, but Parma and every seasoned Spanish sailor knew that the English fleet would have to be totally defeated before the transports could venture out of port.  Such a battle was indeed inevitable, and the English dispositions secured that the Spaniards would have to fight it under every disadvantage which was inherent in the plan of dual lines of operation.  The English would secure certain contact at such a distance from the line of passage as would permit prolonged harassing attacks in waters unfamiliar to the enemy and close to their own sources of support and supply.  No battle to the death would be necessary until the Spaniards were herded into the confined and narrow waters which the army’s passage demanded, and where both sections of the British fleet would be massed for the final struggle.  They must arrive there dispirited with indecisive actions and with the terrors of unknown and difficult seas at the highest point.  All this was no matter of chance.  It was inherent in the strategical and geographical conditions.  The English dispositions had taken every advantage of them, and the result was that not only was the Spanish army unable even to move, but the English advantages in the final battle were so great, that it was only a lucky shift of wind that saved the Armada from being driven to total destruction upon the Dutch banks.

In this case, of course, there had been ample time to make the necessary dispositions.  It will be well to follow it with an example in which surprise came as near to being complete as it is possible to conceive, and where the arrangements for defence had to be improvised on the spur of the moment.

A case in point was the French attempt of 1744.  In that year everything was in favour of the invader.  England was undermined with Jacobite sedition; Scotland was restless and threatening; the navy had sunk to what is universally regarded as its worst for spirit, organisation, and command; and the government was in the hands of the notorious “Drunken Administration.”  For three years we had been making unsuccessful war with Spain, and had been supporting Maria Theresa on the Continent against France, with the result that our home defence was reduced to its lowest ebb.  The navy then numbered 183 sail—­about equal to that of France and Spain combined—­but owing to the strain of the war in the Mediterranean and Transatlantic stations only forty-three, including eighteen of the line, were available for home waters.  Even counting all cruising ships “within call,” as the phrase then was, the Government had barely one-fourth of the fleet at hand to meet the crisis.  With the land forces it was little better.  Considerably more than half the home army was abroad with the King, who was assisting the Empress-Queen as Elector of Hanover.  Between France and England, however, there was no war.  In the summer the King won the battle of