So here I am, about 5,000 miles and four and a half centuries from the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, thinking about how size can be a detriment. I’m thinking about flies. There have only been a few of them, but they’re big. So they’re kind of slow, especially compared to the tiny flies I’ve encountered elsewhere that buzz back and forth, around and around, in my face and ears, rarely landing where I can swat them. Those flies are like the English navy, and the big ones I have now are like the Spanish: slow and easy to hit. I’m seven for seven so far today.