the Eboli. Thus, in the
absence of Alexander, all was suspense and suspicion. It seemed possible
that disaster instead of triumph was in store for them through the
treachery of the commander-in-chief. Four and twenty hours and more, they
had been lying in that dangerous roadstead, and although the weather had
been calm and the sea tranquil, there seemed something brooding in the
atmosphere.

As the twilight deepened, the moon became totally obscured, dark
cloud-masses spread over the heavens, the sea grew black, distant thunder
rolled, and the sob of an approaching tempest became distinctly audible.
Such indications of a westerly gale, were not encouraging to those
cumbrous vessels, with the treacherous quicksands of Flanders under their
lee.

At an hour past midnight, it was so dark that it was difficult for the
most practiced eye to pierce far into the gloom. But a faint drip of oars
now struck the ears of the Spaniards as they watched from the decks. A
few moments afterwards the sea became, suddenly luminous, and six flaming
vessels appeared at a slight distance, bearing steadily down upon them
before the wind and tide.

There were men in the Armada who had been at the siege of Antwerp only
three years before. They remembered with horror the devil-ships of
Gianibelli, those floating volcanoes, which had seemed to rend earth and
ocean, whose explosion had laid so many thousands of soldiers dead at a
blow, and which had shattered the bridge and floating forts of Farnese,
as though they had been toys of glass. They knew, too, that the famous
engineer was at that moment in England.

In a moment one of those horrible panics, which spread with such
contagious rapidity among large bodies of men, seized upon the Spaniards.
There was a yell throughout the fleet--"the fire-ships of Antwerp, the
fire-ships of Antwerp!" and in an instant every cable was cut, and
frantic attempts were made by each galleon and galeasse to escape what
seemed imminent destruction. The confusion was beyond description. Four
or five of the largest ships became entangled with each other. Two others
were set on fire by the flaming--vessels, and were consumed. Medina
Sidonia, who had been warned, even, before his departure from Spain, that
some such artifice would probably be attempted, and who had even, early
that morning, sent out a party of sailors in a pinnace to search for
indications of the scheme, was not surprised or dismayed. He gave
orders