[A] This stratagem was suggested by the Queen.
A terrible and deadly conflict hereupon ensued. The superior calibre of the Spanish guns, though so much higher from the water, threatened to blow the little squadron of Drake to atoms, but that gallant mariner met them undaunted. Wherever the danger was greatest, his puny figure was seen, like a shadow, flitting before his men, and animating them to renewed efforts by his example. But he did not continue long to fight with mere cannon. After a time, his division advanced, under cover of dense masses of smoke, to meet the enemy at closer quarters, and orders were issued for each ship to prepare to board. Loud cheers emanated from the little squadron as this injunction was carried into force. In despite of a tremendous fire, they quickly ranged alongside the enemy; and with the hardihood of English seamen, which laughs at danger, and defies death, proceeded to board them at the cannon’s mouth.
While these operations were in progress, the division of Lord Effingham, as was before stated, had attacked the enemy’s outer line. But, though an experienced mariner, the noble Admiral did not, in the outset, proceed so successfully as his assistant, the able and renowned Drake. In one respect, indeed, circumstances were not so favourable to his progress; for the line here was more compact, and not so easily entered. The consequence was, that, in trying to force a passage, his division was scattered, and each individual ship was left to itself. In this melancholy juncture, he became entangled, by a sudden gust of wind, between two of the enemy, each of which was sufficiently strong at once to overwhelm him. Still the intrepid patrician maintained the conflict, and determined, whatever should be the issue, to stand to the last. The overpowering force opposed to him did not suffer what would be the result to remain long doubtful. After a brief interval, it became evident that, despairing of sinking his vessel, they were preparing to board him. Just at this moment, however, another English ship, almost as large as his own, bore down to his rescue, and a thundering cry of “Raleigh! Raleigh!” rang through the air. His leeward enemy, being nearest to his ally, was hereupon obliged to defend her own self, but the foe to windward still prepared to board him. In a few minutes, her boarders, embracing a greater force than his original crew, of which not half were now effective, poured down her sides, and pushed on for his deck. The Lord Admiral received them hand to hand. On his side, all distinctions of rank, not excepting his own, were thrown aside, and every man fought under his own unaided direction. But, struggle as he might, no degree of heroism could withstand the imposing and constantly-increasing superiority of the Spaniards. Step by step, he was driven to the centre of the deck, and hardly enough of the ship remained to him, notwithstanding the inroads on his ranks, on which to maintain a stand. In this position, he was considering whether, as all hope was now lost, it would not be better to blow the ship up, when the whole vessel sustained a violent shock, and started to her very centre. The dense smoke prevented him from discerning what had occasioned the agitation, but he supposed, and truly, that some other ship, not seeing her in the smoke, had run into her bows, and so come in collision with her. The next moment, his conjecture was established; and a tremendous cry of “Clifford to the rescue!” with the rush of a host of feet, assured him of coming succour.