he second,
Hawkins the third, and Frobisher the fourth. The wind was now north.

The Armada went slowly forward; and except for the capture of one large
Venetian ship, nothing was done until the 25th. Then came a calm,
favourable to the Spaniards, who were rowing, while the English trusted
to their sails. When the Armada came opposite the Isle of Wight, Lord
Howard again gave battle.

This time the "Revenge" was engaged, and in the van. While the battle
went on, none knew who might be falling: but when the fleet was at last
called to anchor--after a terrible encounter--Basset and Tremayne met
and clasped hands in congratulation.

"Where is Enville?" asked the former.

Arthur had seen nothing of him. Had he fallen?

The day passed on--account was taken of the officers and crew--but
nothing was to be heard of Jack Enville.

About half an hour later, Arthur, who had considerably distinguished
himself in the engagement, was resting on deck, looking rather sadly out
to sea, and thinking of Jack, when Basset came up to him, evidently
struggling to suppress laughter.

"Prithee, Tremayne, come below with me one minute."

Arthur complied, and Basset led him to the little cabin which the three
young officers occupied together.

"Behold!" said Basset grandiloquently, with a flourish of his hand
towards the berths. "Behold, I beseech you, him that hath alone routed
the Spaniard, swept the seas, saved England, and covered him with glory!
He it is whose name shall live in the chronicles of the time! He shall
have a statue--of gingerbread--in the court of Her Majesty's Palace of
Westminster, and his name shall be set up--wrought in white goose
feathers--on the forefront of Paul's! Hail to the valiant and
unconquerable Jack Enville, the deliverer of England from Pope and
Spaniard!"

To the great astonishment of Arthur, there lay the valiant Jack, rolled
in a blanket, apparently very much at his ease: but when Basset's
peroration was drawing to a close, he unrolled himself, looking rather
red in the face, and returned to ordinary life by standing on the floor
in full uniform.

"Hold thy blatant tongue for an ass as thou art!" was his civil reply to
Basset's lyric on his valour. "If I did meet a wound in the first flush
of the fray, and came down hither to tend the same, what blame lieth
therein?"

"Wert thou wounded, Jack?" asked Arthur.

"Too modest belike to show it," observed Basset. "Where is it, trow?
Is