"

I was sorely tempted to retort then--so put about was I--that there was
less chance of my countrymen seeing me if I swung at his bowsprit than
if I swung at his stern. But I prudently forebore.

"Sire," said I, "permit me first--"

He turned on me with such a look that I ventured no more parley; and sad
at heart, wondering what Ludar would think of me for not coming to him,
and wishing this cursed sea-fight was at an end, I went to the hold for
biscuits and a bottle of water, and, with no better armour than this,
crawled miserably aloft.

Little I guessed what a revenge I was to have on the Dons before my
three days were over!

For a while, not a little of my pleasure in seeing her Majesty's ships
on the right side of the wind was lost by this untoward accident. And
since the wind freshened increasingly during the day, and the Channel in
those Straits is wickedly rough, I was soon too ill and out of humour to
think of anything at all. I had more than one mind to venture an
escape, and perhaps swim to the French coast. Yet, so long as Ludar was
on the ship, I could not do it; and he in his grandee's quarters was as
close a prisoner from me as if he had still been in the Tower.

I was growing tired of the Invincible Armada, and thought with longing
of the snug parlour in the printing house without Temple Bar, where I
had sat of old, listening to the music of a certain sweet voice which
now seemed all but lost to me in the howling of winds and booming of
guns and grinding of Spanish teeth.

Where now was she, and that fair maiden whom Ludar loved? What hope
were there of our ever meeting or hearing of one another's fate?

The night passed, and as Sunday dawned, I could see the English ships
still hovering not far to rearward; while across, toward the English
coasts, shone many white sails, as of the greater Queen's ships
returning to join the fleet.

The wind slackened, so that the anchorage of the Armada, which had been
sore strained in the night, held good; and with the French town so close
on their flank, I thought, despite their loss of the wind, they rode
safely enough where they were, and would have leisure to say mass and
celebrate their popish rites without fear of disturbance that Sunday.

So it fell out. All day long bells sounded instead of cannons, and
instead of powder the smoke of incense rose to where I perched.
Moreover, I could guess, by the merry laughter which now and then came
the s