Five years had passed since the gathering at Sandwich.  It was now the summer of 1544.  The records say that the French collected at Havre near 300 vessels, fighting ships, galleys, and transports.  Doubtless the numbers are far exaggerated, but at any rate it was the largest force ever yet got together to invade England, capable, if well handled, of bringing Henry to his knees.  The plan was to seize and occupy the Isle of Wight, destroy the English fleet, then take Portsmouth and Southampton, and so advance on London.

Henry’s attention to his navy had not slackened.  He had built ship on ship.  The Great Harry was a thousand tons, carried 700 men, and was the wonder of the day.  There were a dozen others scarcely less imposing.  The King called again on the nation, and again the nation answered.  In England altogether there were 150,000 men in arms in field or garrison.  In the King’s fleet at Portsmouth there were 12,000 seamen, and the privateers of the West crowded up eagerly as before.  It is strange, with the notions which we have allowed ourselves to form of Henry, to observe the enthusiasm with which the whole country, as yet undivided by doctrinal quarrels, rallied a second time to defend him.

In this Portsmouth fleet lay undeveloped the genius of the future naval greatness of England.  A small fact connected with it is worth recording.  The watchword on board was, ‘God save the King’; the answer was, ’Long to reign over us’:  the earliest germ discoverable of the English National Anthem.

The King had come himself to Portsmouth to witness the expected attack.  The fleet was commanded by Lord Lisle, afterwards Duke of Northumberland.  It was the middle of July.  The French crossed from Havre unfought with, and anchored in St. Helens Roads off Brading Harbour.  The English, being greatly inferior in numbers, lay waiting for them inside the Spit.  The morning after the French came in was still and sultry.  The English could not move for want of wind.  The galleys crossed over and engaged them for two or three hours with some advantage.  The breeze rose at noon; a few fast sloops got under way and easily drove them back.  But the same breeze which enabled the English to move brought a serious calamity with it.  The Mary Rose, one of Lisle’s finest vessels, had been under the fire of the galleys.  Her ports had been left open, and when the wind sprang up, she heeled over, filled, and went down, carrying two hundred men along with her.  The French saw her sink, and thought their own guns had done it.  They hoped to follow up their success.  At night they sent over boats to take soundings, and discover the way into the harbour.  The boats reported that the sandbanks made the approach impossible.  The French had no clear plan of action.  They tried a landing in the island, but the force was too small, and failed.  They weighed anchor and brought up again behind Selsea Bill, where Lisle proposed to run them down in the