Suddenly the ships broke into a blaze from water-line to truck, and lighted up the scene like noonday. The Spaniards lost their heads, and in their panic they slipped their cables and put to sea, uncertain which way to steer. Drake and Hawkins now bore down upon them, pouring in cataracts of round shot. The decks of the Spanish ships were like slaughter-houses. The Spanish shot flew high over the low hulls of the enemy, while every English broadside found its billet. Not until his magazines were empty and his last cartridge was fired did Drake draw off. Then a gale sprang up and the Dons were forced to steer up the North Sea. The English closely followed them, and “the Lord sent His wind and scattered them.” Of the proud fleet which left Spain for the conquest of the heretic isle only fifty-three shattered vessels returned to Spain. Thousands of Spanish corpses strewed the shores of the Orkneys, the Western Isles, and the Atlantic coast of Ireland. Scarcely a noble family in Spain but mourned a relative slain or drowned. Thus England and English liberty were saved. All honour to you, noble sea-dogs! May Britain never lack sons of your breed! To you we owe freedom, literature, commerce, and empire, and above all the mastery of that “KINGDOM none can take, The realm of the circling sea.” [Illustration: =The Armada in Sight.= (_From the Picture by Seymour Lucas, R.A. By permission of Mr. Arthur Lucas._)] [Illustration: =QUEEN ELIZABETH AT TILBURY FORT.= (_From the picture by Daniel Maclise, R.A. By permission of the Council of the Art Union of London._)] [Illustration] SIR WALTER RALEIGH. “_For ’tis the sunrise now of zeal,_ _And faith and hope are in their prime_ _In great Eliza’s golden time._” Once more Queen Elizabeth figures in our pageant. She is passing to her barge amidst a crowd of courtiers, who buzz round her like bees seeking the honey of her smile. Amongst the spectators of her progress you observe a young man, comely of person, handsome of face, and gallant of bearing. Suddenly her Majesty pauses; the ground is miry, and she hesitates to soil her dainty shoes. In a moment the young man has pulled off his rich plush cloak and has thrown it upon the ground for the queen to walk upon. She is flattered by the attention; she smiles graciously on the young man and says, “You have this day spoiled a gay mantle in our behalf. We thank you for your service, though the manner of offering it was unusual and something bold.” “In a sovereign’s need,” he replies, “it is each liegeman’s duty to be bold.” “That is well said,” the queen remarks, and at a bound the young man springs into her royal favour. It was afterwards said that the spoiling of his cloak gained him a good many _suits_.