The purpose that was in them broke
into a wild war-music, as the wind harp swells and screams under the
breath of the storm. I found in the Record Office an unsigned letter of
some inspired old sea-dog, written in a bold round hand and addressed to
Elizabeth. The ships' companies which in summer served in Philip's
men-of-war went in winter in thousands to catch cod on the Banks of
Newfoundland. 'Give me five vessels,' the writer said, 'and I will go
out and sink them all, and the galleons shall rot in Cadiz Harbour for
want of hands to sail them. But decide, Madam, and decide quickly. Time
flies, and will not return. _The wings of man's life are plumed with the
feathers of death._'
The Queen did not decide. The five ships were not sent, and the poor
Castilian sailors caught their cod in peace. But in spite of herself
Elizabeth was driven forward by the tendencies of things. The death of
the Prince of Orange left the States without a Government. The Prince of
Parma was pressing them hard. Without a leader they were lost. They
offered themselves to Elizabeth, to be incorporated in the English
Empire. They said that if she refused they must either submit to Spain
or become provinces of France.
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