Coming again upon deck, David Gwynn descried the fourth galley of the squadron, called the Royal, commanded by Commodore Medrado in person, bearing down upon them, before the wind.  It was obvious that the Vasana was already an object of suspicion.

“Comrades,” said Gwynn, “God has given us liberty, and by our courage we must prove ourselves worthy of the boon.”

As he spoke there came a broadside from the galley Royal which killed nine of his crew.  David, nothing daunted; laid his ship close alongside of the Royal, with such a shock that the timbers quivered again.  Then at the head of his liberated slaves, now thoroughly armed, he dashed on board the galley, and, after a furious conflict, in which he was assisted by the slaves of the Royal, succeeded in mastering the vessel, and putting all the Spanish soldiers to death.  This done, the combined rowers, welcoming Gwynn as their deliverer from an abject slavery which seemed their lot for life, willingly accepted his orders.  The gale had meantime abated, and the two galleys, well conducted by the experienced and intrepid Welshman, made their way to the coast of France, and landed at Bayonne on the 31st, dividing among them the property found on board the two galleys.  Thence, by land, the fugitives, four hundred and sixty-six in number—­Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, Turks, and Moors, made their way to Rochelle.  Gwynn had an interview with Henry of Navarre, and received from that chivalrous king a handsome present.  Afterwards he found his way to England, and was well commended by the Queen.  The rest of the liberated slaves dispersed in various directions.

This was the first adventure of the invincible Armada.  Of the squadron of galleys, one was already sunk in the sea, and two of the others had been conquered by their own slaves.  The fourth rode out the gale with difficulty, and joined the rest of the fleet, which ultimately re-assembled at Coruna; the ships having, in distress, put in at first at Vivera, Ribadeo, Gijon, and other northern ports of Spain.  At the Groyne—­as the English of that day were accustomed to call Coruna—­they remained a month, repairing damages and recruiting; and on the 22nd of July 3 (N.S.) the Armada set sail:  Six days later, the Spaniards took soundings, thirty leagues from the Scilly Islands, and on—­Friday, the 29th of July, off the Lizard, they had the first glimpse of the land of promise presented them by Sixtus V., of which they had at last come to take possession.

[The dates in the narrative will be always given according to the New Style, then already adopted by Spain, Holland, and France, although not by England.  The dates thus given are, of course, ten days later than they appear in contemporary English records.]

On the same day and night the blaze and smoke of ten thousand beacon-fires from the Land’s End to Margate, and from the Isle of Wight to Cumberland, gave warning to every Englishman that the enemy was at last upon them.  Almost at that very instant intelligence had been brought from the court to the Lord-Admiral at Plymouth, that the Armada, dispersed and shattered by the gales of June, was not likely to make its appearance that year; and orders had consequently been given to disarm the four largest ships, and send them into dock.  Even Walsingham, as already stated, had participated in this strange delusion.