All the ships of the fleet—­galeasses, galleys, galleons, and hulks—­were so encumbered with top-hamper, so overweighted in proportion to their draught of water, that they could bear but little canvas, even with smooth seas and light and favourable winds.  In violent tempests, therefore, they seemed likely to suffer.  To the eyes of the 16th century these vessels seemed enormous.  A ship of 1300 tons was then a monster rarely seen, and a fleet, numbering from 130 to 150 sail, with an aggregate tonnage of 60,000, seemed sufficient to conquer the world, and to justify the arrogant title, by which it had baptized itself, of the Invincible.

Such was the machinery which Philip had at last set afloat, for the purpose of dethroning Elizabeth and establishing the inquisition in England.  One hundred and forty ships, eleven thousand Spanish veterans, as many more recruits, partly Spanish, partly Portuguese, 2000 grandees, as many galley-slaves, and three hundred barefooted friars and inquisitors.

The plan was simple.  Medina Sidonia was to proceed straight from Lisbon to Calais roads:  there he was to wait:  for the Duke of Parma, who was to come forth from Newport, Sluys, and Dunkerk, bringing with him his 17,000 veterans, and to assume the chief command of the whole expedition.  They were then to cross the channel to Dover, land the army of Parma, reinforced with 6000 Spaniards from the fleet, and with these 23,000 men Alexander was to march at once upon London.  Medina Sidonia was to seize and fortify the Isle of Wight, guard the entrance of the harbours against any interference from the Dutch and English fleets, and—­so soon as the conquest of England had been effected—­he was to proceed to Ireland.  It had been the wish of Sir William Stanley that Ireland should be subjugated first, as a basis of operations against England; but this had been overruled.  The intrigues of Mendoza and Farnese, too, with the Catholic nobles of Scotland, had proved, after all, unsuccessful.  King James had yielded to superior offers of money and advancement held out to him by Elizabeth, and was now, in Alexander’s words, a confirmed heretic.

There was no course left, therefore, but to conquer England at once.  A strange omission had however been made in the plan from first to last.  The commander of the whole expedition was the Duke of Parma:  on his head was the whole responsibility.  Not a gun was to be fired—­if it could be avoided—­until he had come forth with his veterans to make his junction with the Invincible Armada off Calais.  Yet there was no arrangement whatever to enable him to come forth—­not the slightest provision to effect that junction.  It would almost seem that the letter-writer of the Escorial had been quite ignorant of the existence of the Dutch fleets off Dunkerk, Newport, and Flushing, although he had certainly received information enough of this formidable obstacle to his plan.