Before Howard had time to act upon this ill-timed suggestion—­even had he been disposed to do so—­he received authentic intelligence that the great fleet was off the Lizard.  Neither he nor Francis Drake were the men to lose time in such an emergency, and before that Friday, night was spent, sixty of the best English ships had been warped out of Plymouth harbour.

On Saturday, 30th July, the wind was very light at southwest, with a mist and drizzling rain, but by three in the afternoon the two fleets could descry and count each other through the haze.

By nine o’clock, 31st July, about two miles from Looe, on the Cornish coast, the fleets had their first meeting.  There were 136 sail of the Spaniards, of which ninety were large ships, and sixty-seven of the English.  It was a solemn moment.  The long-expected Armada presented a pompous, almost a theatrical appearance.  The ships seemed arranged for a pageant, in honour of a victory already won.  Disposed in form of a crescent, the horns of which were seven miles asunder, those gilded, towered, floating castles, with their gaudy standards and their martial music, moved slowly along the channel, with an air of indolent pomp.  Their captain-general, the golden Duke, stood in his private shot-proof fortress, on the—­deck of his great galleon the Saint Martin, surrounded by generals of infantry, and colonels of cavalry, who knew as little as he did himself of naval matters.  The English vessels, on the other hand—­with a few exceptions, light, swift, and easily handled—­could sail round and round those unwieldy galleons, hulks, and galleys rowed by fettered slave-gangs.  The superior seamanship of free Englishmen, commanded by such experienced captains as Drake, Frobisher, and Hawkins—­from infancy at home on blue water—­was manifest in the very, first encounter.  They obtained the weather-gage at once, and cannonaded the enemy at intervals with considerable effect, easily escaping at will out of range of the sluggish Armada, which was incapable of bearing sail in pursuit, although provided with an armament which could sink all its enemies at close quarters.  “We had some small fight with them that Sunday afternoon,” said Hawkins.

Medina Sidonia hoisted the royal standard at the fore, and the whole fleet did its utmost, which was little, to offer general battle.  It was in vain.  The English, following at the heels of the enemy, refused all such invitations, and attacked only the rear-guard of the Armada, where Recalde commanded.  That admiral, steadily maintaining his post, faced his nimble antagonists, who continued to teaze, to maltreat, and to elude him, while the rest of the fleet proceeded slowly up the Channel closely, followed by the enemy.  And thus the running fight continued along the coast, in full view of Plymouth, whence boats with reinforcements and volunteers were perpetually arriving to the English ships, until the battle had drifted quite out of reach of the town.