Elizabeth I by Margaret George Read Free Book Online

flasks. The ships are painted red and gold and have flags flying from every possible mast and yard. It must look like laundry day at a housewife’s cottage.”
    I could not help laughing. “More like a cathedral, I would think, with all the saints and Wounds of Christ and Virgin Mary banners flapping.”
    He knelt, suddenly, and took my hands. “I assure you, upon my life, we are prepared. Have no fear.”
    I raised him up, drawing him back to his feet and looking into his eyes. “I have never been afraid of any man, woman, or foreign foe. My heart does not know what fear is. I am Queen of a brave people. Should I be less brave than they?”
    He smiled. “You must be—and are—bravest of all.”

    June turned into July, and intelligence about the Armada—so large that it took an entire day to pass any point on land—revealed that although it had left Lisbon the first week of May, severe storms had crippled it so it had taken shelter at Corunna, a port on the north shore of Spain. Drake and his fleet of a hundred armed ships aimed to strike at it there as it lay wounded and vulnerable at anchor in harbor. But when they were within sixty miles of Corunna, they were betrayed by the wind, which turned on them and blew northwest, toward England—perfect for the Spanish to resume their deadly journey. Afraid that the Spanish would slip right past them and get to England before they could, they had no choice but to turn and head for home. It turned out to be the same day the Spanish left Corunna, so they arrived back at Plymouth just in time. The winds that had so severely hurt the Spanish had done little damage to our ships—a good omen.
    I had packed away my finery, ordered the jewels locked in the guarded Tower of London, retreated to Richmond, farther up the Thames. And waited.
    From my palace window I could see the river, its ripples showing the ebbing tide current. The waxing moon played on its surface, making bright patches that broke and rearranged themselves as the water rolled past. On the opposite bank the reeds and willows were painted silver by the moonlight, the swans resting among them standing out as stark white. A night for lovers.
    And then, a red glare through the silver moonlight. A beacon, twinkling from miles away. Then another. The Armada had been sighted. The local militia was called to assemble.
    “Light! Light!” I called for candles. There would be no sleep tonight. I heard the commotion in the palace as messengers arrived, and then one was brought before me. He knelt, trembling.
    “Well?” I said. “Tell me all.” I motioned him up.
    He was only a lad, perhaps fifteen. “I tended the beacon on Upshaw Hill. I lighted it when I saw the one on Adcock Ridge. It would have taken twenty-four or thirty-six hours since the first one was lit to the west.”
    “I see.” I had my guard pay him. “You have done well.”
    But in truth I knew no more than I had just by seeing the beacon myself. Only when knowledgeable witnesses arrived would the truth be revealed. “Prepare yourselves,” I told my guard. Raleigh, the head of them, was away in the west counties. He must have seen the Armada. How far along the coast had it gotten?

    It was three full days before the details could reach us in London. The Armada had first been sighted on July 29 by the captain of the Golden Hind , guarding and scouting the entrance to the Channel. He spotted some fifty Spanish sails near the Scilly Isles and made straightway to Plymouth a hundred miles away to warn Drake.
    The next day, July 30, the Armada had entered the Channel.
    It was now August 1. “Tell me exactly what has happened,” I said to the messenger. My tone was cool, though my heart raced.
    “I do not know. I think the Spanish caught our western squadron in harbor at Plymouth, bottled up by the wind so they could not get out. They made an easy target for the Spanish to attack, if they sighted them.”
    “And then?”
    “I was dispatched before we