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It is dawn on July the 19th, 1588. Up in the crow's nest of a lone patrol ship of the

coast of Cornwall, a sailor peers through the swirling morning mist. He's trying to

make something out in the distance towards the silly aisles. Within a few minutes, what

begins as just a dot spreads out, until it becomes a collection of recognizable shapes. It

is a fleet of ships, dozens of them. Their pointed wooden prowess sit high on the water,

and their masks are topped with long red and yellow banners. Within minutes, the captain

is on the deck. He confirms the sighting, and knowing there is no time to lose, he orders

every man to action. A few miles north on Cornwall's lizard point, the most southerly location

of mainland England, is a small, beehive shaped hut fashioned from local stone. In the doorway

of this primitive structure, a watchman stares out across the wild sea. Around him, rabbits

bound through the long grass, while gals swoop and cry overhead. The watchman studies the

English ship near the horizon with some concern. There has been much naval activity in these

waters lately, but this particular ship is acting oddly. It is racing at full pelt eastwards,

coming closer to shore than is usual. Then, the boom of the ship's cannon tells the

watchman everything he needs to know. The ship is not attacking. The volley doesn't

even contain any shot. It's a signal, one that cannot fail to be detected as the ship

...