ld not move, and Drake
learned at last how deep was the wound he had inflicted.

Philip's organization was now completely dislocated. The fleet at Lisbon
was unmanned. Its crews had been shattered in Cadiz harbor, and the
troops that were intended for it had been thrown into the defenceless
city under the Duke of Medina-Sidonia, with orders that while Drake was
on the coast not a man was to be moved. All thought of an attack on
England was given up. It was even doubted whether by straining every
nerve it would be possible to save the homeward-bound fleets from the
Indies. The Italian squadrons were ordered to land their troops at
Cartagena, and Philip hoped that by forced marches across the peninsula
they might possibly arrive in time for Santa Cruz to sail before it was
too late. Every one else looked on the convoys as doomed. For Drake,
having assured himself that Santa Cruz could not stir, and that England
was safe for a year at least, resolved to make for the Azores and wait
for the prey that had so narrowly escaped him the year before.

On the third day of his stay off the Tagus he took advantage of a
northerly gale to run for the anchorage at St. Vincent, which he had
made his own, and where he intended to water and refresh for the voyage.
There, huddled under the lee of the cape, was found a fresh crowd of
store-ships, which he seized. For nine days he lay there, rummaging the
ships, taking in water, and sending the men ashore in batches to shake
off the sickness with which, as usual, the fleet was attacked. Every day
new prizes fell into his hands, and ere he sailed he had taken and
destroyed forty more vessels and a hundred small craft. On May 22d he
put to sea, and, as the news spread, a panic seized every commercial
centre in the Spanish dominions. Half the merchants in Philip's empire
saw ruin before them: the whole year's produce both of the East and West
Indian trade was at Drake's mercy; and no one knew how Spain, with its
resources already strained to the utmost, would survive the shock.

Whatever might have been the result had these fears been realized,
destiny seemed to have decided that in the Channel should be played the
last great scene. Drake had not been two days out when a storm struck
his fleet and scattered it over the face of the sea. For three days it
raged with extraordinary fury. Drake's own flag-ship was in dire peril,
and, when the heavens cleared, only three of the battle-ships and half