For a general the Queen had chosen the Earl of Leicester, who might have the merit of fidelity to herself, but otherwise was the worst fitted that she could have found in her whole dominions; and the Prince of Parma was coming, if he came at all, at the head of the best-provided and best-disciplined troops in Europe.  The hope of England at that moment was in her patient suffering sailors at Plymouth.  Each morning they looked out passionately for the Spanish sails.  Time was a worse enemy than the galleons.  The six weeks would be soon gone, and the Queen’s ships must then leave the seas if the crews were not to starve.  Drake had certain news that the Armada had sailed.  Where was it?  Once he dashed out as far as Ushant, but turned back, lest it should pass him in the night and find Plymouth undefended; and smaller grew the messes and leaner and paler the seamen’s faces.  Still not a man murmured or gave in.  They had no leisure to be sick.

The last week of July had now come.  There were half-rations for one week more, and powder for two days’ fighting.  That was all.  On so light a thread such mighty issues were now depending.  On Friday, the 23rd, the Armada had started for the second time, the numbers undiminished; religious fervour burning again, and heart and hope high as ever.  Saturday, Sunday, and Monday they sailed on with a smooth sea and soft south winds, and on Monday night the Duke found himself at the Channel mouth with all his flock about him.  Tuesday morning the wind shifted to the north, then backed to the west, and blew hard.  The sea got up, broke into the stern galleries of the galleons, and sent the galleys looking for shelter in French harbours.  The fleet hove to for a couple of days, till the weather mended.  On Friday afternoon they sighted the Lizard and formed into fighting order; the Duke in the centre, Alonzo de Leyva leading in a vessel of his own called the Rata Coronada, Don Martin de Recalde covering the rear.  The entire line stretched to about seven miles.

The sacred banner was run up to the masthead of the San Martin.  Each ship saluted with all her guns, and every man—­officer, noble, seaman, or slave—­knelt on the decks at a given signal to commend themselves to Mary and her Son.  We shall miss the meaning of this high epic story if we do not realise that both sides had the most profound conviction that they were fighting the battle of the Almighty.  Two principles, freedom and authority, were contending for the guidance of mankind.  In the evening the Duke sent off two fast fly-boats to Parma to announce his arrival in the Channel, with another reporting progress to Philip, and saying that till he heard from the Prince he meant to stop at the Isle of Wight.  It is commonly said that his officers advised him to go in and take Plymouth.  There is no evidence for this.  The island would have been a far more useful position for them.