our, and those who drank it
sickened. The officers, on their own responsibility, ordered wine and
arrowroot for the sick out of Plymouth, to be called to a sharp account
when all was over. Again the rations were reduced. Four weeks' allowance
was stretched to serve for six, and still the Spaniards did not come. So
England's forlorn hope was treated at the crisis of her destiny. The
preparations on land were scarcely better. The militia had been called
out. A hundred thousand men had given their names, and the stations had
been arranged where they were to assemble if the enemy attempted a
landing. But there were no reserves, no magazines of arms, no stores or
tents, no requisites for an army save the men themselves and what local
resources could furnish. For a general the Queen had chosen the Earl of
Leicester, who might have the merit of fidelity to herself, but
otherwise was the worst fitted that she could have found in her whole
dominions; and the Prince of Parma was coming, if he came at all, at
the head of the best-provided and best-disciplined troops in Europe. The
hope of England at that moment was in her patient suffering sailors at
Plymouth. Each morning they looked out passionately for the Spanish
sails. Time was a worse enemy than the galleons. The six weeks would be
soon gone, and the Queen's ships must then leave the seas if the crews
were not to starve. Drake had certain news that the Armada had sailed.
Where was it? Once he dashed out as far as Ushant, but turned back, lest
it should pass him in the night and find Plymouth undefended; and
smaller grew the messes and leaner and paler the seamen's faces. Still
not a man murmured or gave in. They had no leisure to be sick.

The last week of July had now come. There were half-rations for one week
more, and powder for two days' fighting. That was all. On so light a
thread such mighty issues were now depending. On Friday, the 23rd, the
Armada had started for the second time, the numbers undiminished;
religious fervour burning again, and heart and hope high as ever.
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday they sailed on with a smooth sea and soft
south winds, and on Monday night the Duke found himself at the Channel
mouth with all his flock about him. Tuesday morning the wind shifted to
the north, then backed to the west, and blew hard. The sea got up, broke
into the stern galleries of the galleons, and sent the galleys looking
for shelter in French harbours. The fleet hove