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The hours stole on, and twilight passed into dark. The night was without a moon. The Duke paced his deck late with uneasy sense of danger. He observed lights moving up and down the English lines, and imagining that the endemoniada gente the infernal devils might be up to mischief ordered a sharp look-out.
As he dropped anchor in the dusk outside Calais on Saturday evening he saw, to his disgust, that the endemoniada gente the infernal devils as he called them, had brought up at the same moment with himself, half a league astern of him. His one trust was in the Prince of Parma, and Parma at any rate was now within touch.
They buoyed their cables, expecting to return for them at daylight, and with only a single accident, to be mentioned directly, they executed successfully a really difficult manoeuvre. The Duke was delighted with himself. The fire-ships burnt harmlessly out. He had baffled the inventions of the endemoniada gente.
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