The moment was his own, and he
used it. He was but just in time. Before his sails were under the
horizon a courier galloped into Plymouth with orders that under no
condition was he to enter port or haven of the King of Spain, or injure
Spanish subjects. What else was he going out for? He had guessed how it
would be. Comedy or earnest he could not tell. If earnest, some such
order would be sent after him, and he had not an instant to lose.
He sailed on the morning of the 12th of April. Off Ushant he fell in
with a north-west gale, and he flew on, spreading every stitch of
canvas which his spars would bear. In five days he was at Cape St.
Vincent. On the 18th he had the white houses of Cadiz right in front of
him, and could see for himself the forests of masts from the ships and
transports with which the harbour was choked. Here was a chance for a
piece of service if there was courage for the venture. He signalled for
his officers to come on board the _Buonaventura_. There before their
eyes was, if not the Armada itself, the materials which were to fit the
Armada for the seas. Did they dare to go in with him and destroy them?
There were batteries at the harbour mouth, but Drake's mariners had
faced Spanish batteries at St.
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