nnel was
hindered by the wind, which blew strongly from the south. Nor was it a
wise movement in the face of the English fleet. The admiral, therefore,
determined to sail northward and make the circuit of the British islands.

Unfortunately for Lord Howard, he was in no condition to pursue. By the
neglect of the authorities he had been ill-supplied with gunpowder, and
was forced to return to England for a fresh supply. But for this
deficiency he possibly might, in the distressed condition of the Spanish
fleet, have forced a surrender of the entire Armada. As it was, his return
proved fortunate, for the fleets had not far separated when a frightful
tempest began, which did considerable harm to the English ships, but fell
with all its rage on the exposed Armada.

The ships, drawn up in close ranks, were hurled fiercely together, many
being sunk. Driven helplessly before the wind, some were dashed to pieces
on the rocks of Norway, others on the Scottish coast or the shores of the
western islands. Some went down in the open sea. A subsequent storm, which
came from the west, drove more than thirty of them on the Irish coast. Of
these, some got off in a shattered state, others were utterly wrecked and
their crews murdered on reaching the shore. The admiral's ship, which had
kept in the open sea, reached the Spanish coast about the close of
September.

Even after reaching harbor in Spain troubles pursued them, two of the
galleons taking fire and burning to ashes. Of the delicately reared noble
volunteers, great numbers had died from the hardships of the voyage, and
many more died from diseases contracted at sea. The total loss is not
known; some say that thirty-two, some that more than eighty, ships were
lost, while the loss of life is estimated at from ten thousand to fifteen
thousand. Spain felt the calamity severely. There was hardly a family of
rank that had not some one of its members to mourn, and so universal was
the grief that Philip, to whose ambition the disaster was due, felt
obliged to issue an edict to abridge the time of public mourning.

In England and Holland, on the contrary, the event was hailed with
universal joy. Days of solemn thanksgiving were appointed, and Elizabeth,
seated in a triumphal chariot and surrounded by her ministers and nobles,
went for this purpose to St. Paul's Cathedral, the concourse bearing a
great number of flags that had been taken from the enemy.

The joy at the destruction of th