re such
a delusion persisted in.

Every possible precaution therefore but one had been taken. The King of
France--almost at the same instant in which Guise had been receiving his
latest instructions from the Escorial for dethroning and destroying that
monarch--had been assured by Philip of his inalienable affection; had
been informed of the object of this great naval expedition--which was not
by any means, as Mendoza had stated to Henry, an enterprise against
France or England, but only a determined attempt to clear the sea, once
for all, of these English pirates who had done so much damage for years
past on the high seas--and had been requested, in case any Spanish ship
should be driven by stress of weather into French ports, to afford them
that comfort and protection to which the vessels of so close and friendly
an ally were entitled.

Thus there was bread, beef, and powder enough--there were monks and
priests enough--standards, galley-slaves, and inquisitors enough; but
there were no light vessels in the Armada, and no heavy vessels in
Parma's fleet. Medina could not go to Farnese, nor could Farnese come to
Medina. The junction was likely to be difficult, and yet it had never
once entered the heads of Philip or his counsellors to provide for that
difficulty. The King never seemed to imagine that Farnese, with 40,000 or
50,000 soldiers in the Netherlands, a fleet of 300 transports, and power
to dispose of very large funds for one great purpose, could be kept in
prison by a fleet of Dutch skippers and corsairs.

With as much sluggishness as might have been expected from their clumsy
architecture, the ships of the Armada consumed nearly three weeks in
sailing from Lisbon to the neighbourhood of Cape Finisterre. Here they
were overtaken by a tempest, and were scattered hither and thither,
almost at the mercy of the winds and waves; for those unwieldy hulks were
ill adapted to a tempest in the Bay of Biscay. There were those in the
Armada, however, to whom the storm was a blessing. David Gwynn, a Welsh
mariner, had sat in the Spanish hulks a wretched galley-slave--as
prisoner of war for more than eleven years, hoping, year after year, for
a chance of escape from bondage. He sat now among the rowers of the great
galley, the Trasana, one of the humblest instruments by which the
subjugation of his native land to Spain and Rome was to be effected.

Very naturally, among the ships which suffered most in the gale were the
f