There was no insubordination, however, and Seymour’s squadron; at twilight of Tuesday evening, August 9th—­according to orders, so that the enemy might not see their departure—­bore away for Margate.  But although Winter and Seymour were much disappointed at their enforced return, there was less enthusiasm among the sailors of the fleet.  Pursuing the Spaniards without powder or fire, and without beef and bread to eat, was not thought amusing by the English crews.  Howard had not three days’ supply of food in his lockers, and Seymour and his squadron had not food for one day.  Accordingly, when Seymour and Winter took their departure, “they had much ado,” so Winter said; “with the staying of many ships that would have returned with them, besides their own company.”  Had the Spaniards; instead of being panic-struck, but turned on their pursuers, what might have been the result of a conflict with starving and unarmed men?

Howard, Drake, and Frobisher, with the rest of the fleet, followed the Armada through the North Sea from Tuesday night (9th August) till Friday (the 12th), and still, the strong southwester swept the Spaniards before them, uncertain whether to seek refuge, food, water, and room to repair damages, in the realms of the treacherous King of Scots, or on the iron-bound coasts of Norway.  Medina Sidonia had however quite abandoned his intention of returning to England, and was only anxious for a safe return:  to Spain.  So much did he dread that northern passage; unpiloted, around the grim Hebrides, that he would probably have surrendered, had the English overtaken him and once more offered battle.  He was on the point of hanging out a white flag as they approached him for the last time—­but yielded to the expostulations of the ecclesiastics on board the Saint Martin, who thought, no doubt, that they had more to fear from England than from the sea, should they be carried captive to that country, and who persuaded him that it would be a sin and a disgrace to surrender before they had been once more attacked.

On the other hand, the Devonshire skipper, Vice-Admiral Drake, now thoroughly in his element, could not restrain his hilarity, as he saw the Invincible Armada of the man whose beard he had so often singed, rolling through the German Ocean, in full flight from the country which was to have been made, that week, a Spanish province.  Unprovided as were his ships, he was for risking another battle, and it is quite possible that the brag countenance might have proved even more successful than Howard thought.

“We have the army of Spain before us,” wrote Drake, from the Revenge, “and hope with the grace of God to wrestle a pull with him.  There never was any thing pleased me better than seeing the enemy flying with a southerly wind to the northward.  God grant you have a good eye to the Duke of Parma, for with the grace of God, if we live, I doubt not so to handle the matter with the Duke of Sidonia as he shall wish himself at St. Mary’s Port among his orange trees.”