How, thereupon, that glorious fleet trailed in a long draggled line northward, never looking behind them, even when the Englishmen one by one drew off and abandoned the chase.

How, after a while, when they looked out one morning they found the _Rata_ staggering through the stormy northern seas alone.
"'Twas a sad sight," said Ludar.

"You would not have known the queenly vessel we had met scarce a month before off Ushant.

Her main-mast clean gone, her tackle dishevelled as a wood-nymph's hair; with flags and sails and pennons blown away, guns rusted in their ports, and the very helm refusing to turn.

The bells, all save the dismal storm bell in the prows, were silent; the priests had crawled miserably to their holes.
No one read aloud the King's proclamation; and even the gallants of Spain sat limp and listless, looking seaward, never saying a word but to salute and cheer their beloved Don, or talk in whispers of the sunny hills of Spain.
"Captain Desmond, the one man on board who, after you, was my friend, had died in the fight off Gravelines.