d the succession of fights
throughout the following day, had completely disorganized his followers.
Crippled, riddled, shorn, but still numerous, and by no means entirely
vanquished, the Armada was flying with a gentle breeze before an enemy
who, to save his existence; could not have fired a broadside.

"Though our powder and shot was well nigh spent," said the Lord-Admiral,
"we put on a brag countenance and gave them chase, as though we had
wanted nothing." And the brag countenance was successful, for that "one
day's service had much appalled the enemy" as Drake observed; and still
the Spaniards fled with a freshening gale all through the Monday night.
"A thing greatly to be regarded," said Fenner, of the Nonpariel, "is that
that the Almighty had stricken them with a wonderful fear. I have hardly,
seen any of their companies succoured of the extremities which befell
them after their fights, but they have been left, at utter ruin, while
they bear as much sail as ever they possibly can."

On Tuesday morning, 9th August, the English ships were off the isle of
Walcheren, at a safe distance from the shore. "The wind is hanging
westerly," said Richard Tomson, of the Margaret and Joan, "and we drive
our enemies apace, much marvelling in what port they will direct
themselves. Those that are left alive are so weak and heartless that they
could be well content to lose all charges and to be at home, both rich
and poor."

"In my, conscience," said Sir William Winter, "I think the Duke would
give his dukedom to be in Spain again."

The English ships, one-hundred and four in number, being that morning
half-a-league to windward, the Duke gave orders for the whole Armada to
lay to and, await their approach. But the English had no disposition to
engage, for at, that moment the instantaneous destruction of their
enemies seemed inevitable. Ill-managed, panic-struck, staggering before
their foes, the Spanish fleet was now close upon the fatal sands of
Zeeland. Already there were but six and a-half fathoms of water, rapidly
shoaling under their keels, and the pilots told Medina that all were
irretrievably lost, for the freshening north-welter was driving them
steadily upon the banks. The English, easily escaping the danger, hauled
their wind, and paused to see the ruin of the proud Armada accomplished
before their eyes. Nothing but a change of wind at the instant could save
them from perdition. There was a breathless shudder of suspense