But fair as was the view of their lost friends, and wondrous the
appearance of the Spanish ships, it was not on those that the eyes
of the men of the Basilisk were chiefly bent. A greater sight lay
before them--a sight which brought them clustering to the
forecastle with eager eyes and pointing fingers. The English
fleet was coming forth from the Winchelsea Coast. Already before
the fog lifted a fast galleass had brought the news down Channel
that the Spanish were on the sea, and the King's fleet was under
way. Now their long array of sails, gay with the coats and colors
of the towns which had furnished them, lay bright against the
Kentish coast from Dungeness Point to Rye. Nine and twenty ships
were there from Southampton, Shoreham, Winchelsea, Hastings, Rye,
Hythe, Romney, Folkestone, Deal, Dover and Sandwich. With their
great sails slued round to catch the wind they ran out, whilst the
Spanish, like the gallant foes that they have ever been, turned
their heads landward to meet them. With flaunting banners and
painted sails, blaring trumpets and clashing cymbals, the two
glittering fleets, dipping and rising on the long Channel swell,
drew slowly together.
King Edward had been lying all day in his great ship the Philippa,
a mile out from the Camber Sands, waiting for the coming of the
Spaniards. Above the huge sail which bore the royal arms flew the
red cross of England.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315