might have received information, and in which many believed, that Medina Sidonia was the bearer of secret orders to throw Farnese into bondage, so soon as he should appear, to send him a disgraced captive back to Spain for punishment, and to place the baton of command in the hand of the Duke of Pastrana, Philip’s bastard by the Eboli.  Thus, in the absence of Alexander, all was suspense and suspicion.  It seemed possible that disaster instead of triumph was in store for them through the treachery of the commander-in-chief.  Four and twenty hours and more, they had been lying in that dangerous roadstead, and although the weather had been calm and the sea tranquil, there seemed something brooding in the atmosphere.

As the twilight deepened, the moon became totally obscured, dark cloud-masses spread over the heavens, the sea grew black, distant thunder rolled, and the sob of an approaching tempest became distinctly audible.  Such indications of a westerly gale, were not encouraging to those cumbrous vessels, with the treacherous quicksands of Flanders under their lee.

At an hour past midnight, it was so dark that it was difficult for the most practiced eye to pierce far into the gloom.  But a faint drip of oars now struck the ears of the Spaniards as they watched from the decks.  A few moments afterwards the sea became, suddenly luminous, and six flaming vessels appeared at a slight distance, bearing steadily down upon them before the wind and tide.

There were men in the Armada who had been at the siege of Antwerp only three years before.  They remembered with horror the devil-ships of Gianibelli, those floating volcanoes, which had seemed to rend earth and ocean, whose explosion had laid so many thousands of soldiers dead at a blow, and which had shattered the bridge and floating forts of Farnese, as though they had been toys of glass.  They knew, too, that the famous engineer was at that moment in England.

In a moment one of those horrible panics, which spread with such contagious rapidity among large bodies of men, seized upon the Spaniards.  There was a yell throughout the fleet—­“the fire-ships of Antwerp, the fire-ships of Antwerp!” and in an instant every cable was cut, and frantic attempts were made by each galleon and galeasse to escape what seemed imminent destruction.  The confusion was beyond description.  Four or five of the largest ships became entangled with each other.  Two others were set on fire by the flaming—­vessels, and were consumed.  Medina Sidonia, who had been warned, even, before his departure from Spain, that some such artifice would probably be attempted, and who had even, early that morning, sent out a party of sailors in a pinnace to search for indications of the scheme, was not surprised or dismayed.  He gave orders—­as well as might be that every ship, after the danger should be passed, was to return to its post, and, await his further orders.  But it was useless, in that moment of unreasonable panic to issue commands.  The despised Mantuan, who had met with so many rebuffs at Philip’s court, and who—­owing to official incredulity had been but partially successful in his magnificent enterprise at Antwerp, had now; by the mere terror of his name, inflicted more damage on Philip’s Armada than had hitherto been accomplished by Howard and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher, combined.