“They are safe! safe for us!  Who will go and beg us powder?  A cartridge here and a cartridge there?—­anything to set to work again!”

Cary volunteered, and returned in a couple of hours with some quantity:  but he was on board again only just in time, for the south-wester had recovered the mastery of the skies, and Spaniards and English were moving away; but this time northward.  Whither now?  To Scotland?  Amyas knew not, and cared not, provided he was in the company of Don Guzman de Soto.

The Armada was defeated, and England saved.  But such great undertakings seldom end in one grand melodramatic explosion of fireworks, through which the devil arises in full roar to drag Dr. Faustus forever into the flaming pit.  On the contrary, the devil stands by his servants to the last, and tries to bring off his shattered forces with drums beating and colors flying; and, if possible, to lull his enemies into supposing that the fight is ended, long before it really is half over.  All which the good Lord Howard of Effingham knew well, and knew, too, that Medina had one last card to play, and that was the filial affection of that dutiful and chivalrous son, James of Scotland.  True, he had promised faith to Elizabeth:  but that was no reason why he should keep it.  He had been hankering and dabbling after Spain for years past, for its absolution was dear to his inmost soul; and Queen Elizabeth had had to warn him, scold him, call him a liar, for so doing; so the Armada might still find shelter and provision in the Firth of Forth.  But whether Lord Howard knew or not, Medina did not know, that Elizabeth had played her card cunningly, in the shape of one of those appeals to the purse, which, to James’s dying day, overweighed all others save appeals to his vanity.  “The title of a dukedom in England, a yearly pension of 5000 pounds, a guard at the queen’s charge, and other matters” (probably more hounds and deer), had steeled the heart of the King of Scots, and sealed the Firth of Forth.  Nevertheless, as I say, Lord Howard, like the rest of Elizabeth’s heroes, trusted James just as much as James trusted others; and therefore thought good to escort the Armada until it was safely past the domains of that most chivalrous and truthful Solomon.  But on the 4th of August, his fears, such as they were, were laid to rest.  The Spaniards left the Scottish coast and sailed away for Norway; and the game was played out, and the end was come, as the end of such matters generally comes, by gradual decay, petty disaster, and mistake; till the snow-mountain, instead of being blown tragically and heroically to atoms, melts helplessly and pitiably away.

CHAPTER XXXII

HOW AMYAS THREW HIS SWORD INTO THE SEA

“Full fathom deep thy father lies;
Of his bones are corals made;
Those are pearls which were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange;
Fairies hourly ring his knell,
Hark!  I hear them.  Ding dong bell.”