The _Rata_ had dropped to the rear of the Armada, which spread eastward in a long irregular line, very different from the grand curve with which she had swept on Plymouth.
Behind us, some three miles away, cruised the Englishmen, looking at us; while, betwixt us and the far distant Portland headland, I could see the vast hull of one of our own galleons (the same which had blown up in the night), surrounded by a swarm of little craft that picked her bones, like crows on a carcase.

Nearer still lay a great disabled Spaniard, with bowsprit and top-masts gone, and flag struck, being towed by her capturers into port.

As for the _Rata_ herself, 'twas sad to see how dingy the gay gilding had become in one day, and how sails were riddled, tackle flying, and scutcheons toppled over.
Yet, I had but a passing glance for all these.

Where was Ludar?
Was he returned?
Or was he in the Englishmen's hands?
Or was the little cock- boat, perchance, floating somewhere bottom uppermost, and he beneath it?
I scanned the waters till my eyes ached.

Far ahead, miles away, I fancied I could see, towering among the other galleons, the Duke's royal standard.