62. "By this time the news that the Armada was in the Channel had
circulated throughout the length and breadth of England, and from
every creek and port and harbor came accession of goodly ships,
equipped at the cost of leading squires and nobles, and manned by her
'best blood.' From Lyme and Weymouth and Poole and the Isle of Wight,
young lords and gentlemen came streaming out in every smack or sloop
they could lay hold of, to snatch their share of danger and glory at
Howard's side. The strength which they were able to add was little or
nothing, but they brought enthusiasm; they brought to the half-starved
crews the sense that the heart of all England was with them, and this
assurance transformed every seaman into a hero.
63. "On Tuesday evening, after the fight, Medina Sidonia counted a
hundred sail behind him, and he observed, with some uneasiness, that
the numbers were continually increasing. On Wednesday, July 24th, the
weather was calm, and the English lay idle at a short distance from
the Armada waiting for powder.
64. "Thursday, July 25th, was the feast-day of Spain's patron saint,
St. Jago; of him who, mounted on a milk-white steed, had ridden in
fore-front of battle in one of the Spanish encounters with the Moors,
and had led them to victory. Should nothing on this holy day be done
in his honor by those whom he had so greatly favored? It was decided
to make an attack. The galleys led the way, and in their van rode
three of the four great galliasses, thrashing the sea to foam with
three hundred oars apiece. The English met them with such tremendous
discharges of chain-shot that, had not the wind risen about noon,
enabling the Spanish ships to come up to their assistance, the galleys
would surely have been taken. When the lord admiral withdrew his
ships, the Spaniards were so cowed that they made no attempt to pursue
them."
65. "Thus," says Canon Kingsley, "the fight had thundered on the
live-long afternoon, beneath the virgin cliffs of Freshwater, on the
Isle of Wight, while myriad sea fowl rose screaming from every ledge,
and with their black wings spotted the snow-white walls of chalk; and
the lone shepherd hurried down the slopes above to peer over the dizzy
ledge, and forgot the wheat-ear fluttering in his snare, while,
trembling, he gazes upon glimpses of tall masts and gorgeous flags,
piercing at times the league-broad veil of sulphur-smoke which
weltered far below."
BRIEF RESPITE FROM BATTLE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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