A train was fired, and the fierce south-west wind bore the fire-ships into the crescent of the Spaniards. The blaze, the explosions, the cannon-shot, struck a panic into the Armada. "The fire of Antwerp!" they cried. "Cut cable, up anchor!" In a few minutes they were all colliding together in their hurry to get away from the flames, and all that night they sped away past Dunkirk and Parma even to the mouth of the Scheldt. "God hath given us so good a day in forcing the enemy so far to leeward," wrote Drake, "as I hope in God, the Prince of Parma and the Duke of Sidonia will not shake hands these few days.... I assure your honour, this day's service hath much appalled the enemy." Then on the Monday Hawkins in the Victory, Drake in the _Revenge_, and Frobisher in the _Triumph_, led the English to the attack upon a fleet disorganised and cowed, fearing alike the sands, the storm, and the foe. Every ship in the Spanish fleet had received damage, some had been taken and others sunk, while a score or so went on shore and were lost. --------------------------------------------------------------------- [Illustration: FIRE-SHIPS] The Spanish fleet lay safely moored in Calais Harbour, huge impregnable castles of timber, but Howard's fire-ships caused them to scurry away before the wind like frightened fowls. --------------------------------------------------------------------- "We pluck their feathers by little and little," wrote Lord Howard, and if Burghley had only given them powder enough, the victory would have been complete. The English had no more ammunition left, but still, as the Spaniards forged ahead to the north, they grimly followed: "We set on a brag countenance and gave them chase."