a herd of frightened deer, past the Orkneys and Shetlands,
catching up a few hapless fishermen as guides; past the coast
of Norway, there, too, refused water and food by the brave
descendants of the Vikings; and on northward ever towards
the lonely Faroes, and the everlasting dawn which heralds
round the Pole the midnight sun.

Their water is failing; the cattle must go overboard; and
the wild northern sea echoes to the shrieks of drowning horses.
They must homeward at least, somehow, each as best he can.
Let them meet again at Cape Finisterre, if indeed they ever
meet. Medina Sidonia, with some five-and-twenty of the
soundest and best victualled ships, will lead the way, and leave
the rest to their fate. He is soon out of sight; and forty
more, the only remnant of that mighty host, come wandering
wearily behind, hoping to make the south-west coast of Ireland,
and have help, or, at least, fresh water there, from their fellow
Romanists. Alas for them!--

"Make Thou their way dark and slippery,
And follow them up ever with Thy storm."

For now comes up from the Atlantic, gale on gale; and few of
that hapless remnant reached the shores of Spain.

And where are Amyas and the Vengeance all this while?

At the fifty-seventh degree of latitude, the English fleet,
finding themselves growing short of provision, and having been
long since out of powder and ball, turn southward toward
home, "thinking it best to leave the Spaniard to those uncouth
and boisterous northern seas." A few pinnaces are still sent
onward to watch their course: and the English fleet, caught in
the same storms which scattered the Spaniards, "with great
danger and industry reached Harwich port, and there provide
themselves of victuals and ammunition," in case the Spaniards
should return; but there is no need for that caution. Parma,
indeed, who cannot believe that the idol at Halle, after all his
compliments to it, will play him so scurvy a trick, will watch for
weeks on Dunkirk dunes, hoping against hope for the Armada's
return, casting anchors, and spinning rigging to repair their losses.

"But lang lang may his ladies sit,
With their fans intill their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the land."

The Armada is away on the other side of Scotland, and
Amyas is following in its wake.

For when the Lord High Admiral determined to return,

-570-