Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth

by Charles Kingsley

  CHAPTER XXX

  HOW THE ADMIRAL JOHN HAWKINS TESTIFIED AGAINST CROAKERS

  "Oh, where be these gay Spaniards, Which make so great a boast O? Oh, they shall eat the gray-goose feather, And we shall eat the roast O!"

  Cornish Song.

  What if the spectators who last summer gazed with just pride upon thenoble port of Plymouth, its vast breakwater spanning the Sound, itsarsenals and docks, its two estuaries filled with gallant ships, andwatched the great screw-liners turning within their own length by forceinvisible, or threading the crowded fleets with the ease of the tiniestboat,--what if, by some magic turn, the nineteenth century, and all themagnificence of its wealth and science, had vanished--as it may vanishhereafter--and they had found themselves thrown back three hundred yearsinto the pleasant summer days of 1588?

  Mount Edgecombe is still there, beautiful as ever: but where are thedocks, and where is Devonport? No vast dry-dock roofs rise at thewater's edge. Drake's island carries but a paltry battery, just raisedby the man whose name it bears; Mount Wise is a lone gentleman's houseamong fields; the citadel is a pop-gun fort, which a third-class steamerwould shell into rubble for an afternoon's amusement. And the shipping,where are they? The floating castles of the Hamoaze have dwindled toa few crawling lime-hoys; and the Catwater is packed, not as now, withmerchant craft, but with the ships who will to-morrow begin the greatestsea-fight which the world has ever seen.

  There they lie, a paltry squadron enough in modern eyes; the largest ofthem not equal in size to a six-and-thirty-gun frigate, carrying lessweight of metal than one of our new gun-boats, and able to employ eventhat at not more than a quarter of our modern range. Would our modernspectators, just come down by rail for a few hours, to see the cavalryembark, and return tomorrow in time for dinner, have looked down uponthat petty port, and petty fleet, with a contemptuous smile, and begunsome flippant speech about the progress of intellect, and the triumphsof science, and our benighted ancestors? They would have done so, doubtit not, if they belonged to the many who gaze on those very triumphsas on a raree-show to feed their silly wonder, or use and enjoy themwithout thankfulness or understanding, as the ox eats the clover thrustinto his rack, without knowing or caring how it grew. But if any of themwere of the class by whom those very triumphs have been achieved; thethinkers and the workers, who, instead of entering lazily into othermen's labors, as the mob does, labor themselves; who know by hardexperience the struggles, the self-restraints, the disappointments, theslow and staggering steps, by which the discoverer reaches to his prize;then the smile of those men would not have been one of pity, but ratherof filial love. For they would have seen in those outwardly paltryarmaments the potential germ of that mightier one which now loads theBlack Sea waves; they would have been aware, that to produce it, withsuch materials and knowledge as then existed, demanded an intellect, anenergy, a spirit of progress and invention, equal, if not superior, tothose of which we now so loudly boast.

  But if, again, he had been a student of men rather than of machinery,he would have found few nobler companies on whom to exercise hisdiscernment, than he might have seen in the little terrace bowling-greenbehind the Pelican Inn, on the afternoon of the nineteenth of July.Chatting in groups, or lounging over the low wall which commanded aview of the Sound and the shipping far below, were gathered almostevery notable man of the Plymouth fleet, the whole posse comitatusof "England's forgotten worthies." The Armada has been scattered by astorm. Lord Howard has been out to look for it, as far as the Spanishcoast; but the wind has shifted to the south, and fearing lest the Donsshould pass him, he has returned to Plymouth, uncertain whether theArmada will come after all or not. Slip on for a while, like Prince Hal,the drawer's apron; come in through the rose-clad door which opensfrom the tavern, with a tray of long-necked Dutch glasses, and a silvertankard of wine, and look round you at the gallant captains, who arewaiting for the Spanish Armada, as lions in their lair might wait forthe passing herd of deer.

  See those five talking earnestly, in the centre of a ring, which longsto overhear, and yet is too respectful to approach close. Those softlong eyes and pointed chin you recognize already; they are WalterRaleigh's. The fair young man in the flame-colored doublet, whose armis round Raleigh's neck, is Lord Sheffield; opposite them stands, bythe side of Sir Richard Grenville, a man as stately even as he, LordSheffield's uncle, the Lord Charles Howard of Effingham, lord highadmiral of England; next to him is his son-in-law, Sir Robert Southwell,captain of the Elizabeth Jonas: but who is that short, sturdy, plainlydressed man, who stands with legs a little apart, and hands behind hisback, looking up, with keen gray eyes, into the face of each speaker?His cap is in his hands, so you can see the bullet head of crisp brownhair and the wrinkled forehead, as well as the high cheek bones, theshort square face, the broad temples, the thick lips, which are yet firmas granite. A coarse plebeian stamp of man: yet the whole figure andattitude are that of boundless determination, self-possession, energy;and when at last he speaks a few blunt words, all eyes are turnedrespectfully upon him;--for his name is Francis Drake.

  A burly, grizzled elder, in greasy sea-stained garments, contrastingoddly with the huge gold chain about his neck, waddles up, as if he hadbeen born, and had lived ever since, in a gale of wind at sea. The upperhalf of his sharp dogged visage seems of brick-red leather, the lower ofbadger's fur; and as he claps Drake on the back, and, with a broad Devontwang, shouts, "be you a coming to drink your wine, Francis Drake, orbe you not?--saving your presence, my lord;" the lord high admiral onlylaughs, and bids Drake go and drink his wine; for John Hawkins, admiralof the port, is the patriarch of Plymouth seamen, if Drake be theirhero, and says and does pretty much what he likes in any company onearth; not to mention that to-day's prospect of an Armageddon fight hasshaken him altogether out of his usual crabbed reserve, and made himoverflow with loquacious good-humor, even to his rival Drake.

  So they push through the crowd, wherein is many another man whom onewould gladly have spoken with face to face on earth. Martin Frobisherand John Davis are sitting on that bench, smoking tobacco from longsilver pipes; and by them are Fenton and Withrington, who have bothtried to follow Drake's path round the world, and failed, though by nofault of their own. The man who pledges them better luck next time,is George Fenner, known to "the seven Portugals," Leicester's pet, andcaptain of the galleon which Elizabeth bought of him. That short primman in the huge yellow ruff, with sharp chin, minute imperial, andself-satisfied smile, is Richard Hawkins, the Complete Seaman, AdmiralJohn's hereafter famous and hapless son. The elder who is talking withhim is his good uncle William, whose monument still stands, or shouldstand, in Deptford Church; for Admiral John set it up there but one yearafter this time; and on it record how he was, "A worshipper of the truereligion, an especial benefactor of poor sailors, a most just arbiterin most difficult causes, and of a singular faith, piety, and prudence."That, and the fact that he got creditably through some sharp work atPorto Rico, is all I know of William Hawkins: but if you or I, reader,can have as much or half as much said of us when we have to follow him,we shall have no reason to complain.

  There is John Drake, Sir Francis' brother, ancestor of the present stockof Drakes; and there is George, his nephew, a man not overwise, who hasbeen round the world with Amyas; and there is Amyas himself, talkingto one who answers him with fierce curt sentences, Captain Barker ofBristol, brother of the hapless Andrew Barker who found John Oxenham'sguns, and, owing to a mutiny among his men, perished by the Spaniards inHonduras, twelve years ago. Barker is now captain of the Victory, one ofthe queen's best ships; and he has his accounts to settle with the Dons,as Amyas has; so they are both growling together in a corner, while allthe rest are as merry as the flies upon the vine above their heads.

  But who is the aged man who sits upon a bench, against the sunny southwall of the tavern, his long white beard flowing almost to his waist,his hands upon his knees, his palsied head moving slowly from side
toside, to catch the scraps of discourse of the passing captains? Hisgreat-grandchild, a little maid of six, has laid her curly head upon hisknees, and his grand-daughter, a buxom black-eyed dame of thirty, standsby him and tends him, half as nurse, and half, too, as showman, for heseems an object of curiosity to all the captains, and his fair nurse hasto entreat again and again, "Bless you, sir, please now, don't give himno liquor, poor old soul, the doctor says." It is old Martin Cockrem,father of the ancient host, aged himself beyond the years of man, whocan recollect the bells of Plymouth ringing for the coronation of Henrythe Eighth, and who was the first Englishman, perhaps, who ever set footon the soil of the New World. There he sits, like an old Druid Tor ofprimeval granite amid the tall wheat and rich clover crops of a modernfarm. He has seen the death of old Europe and the birth-throes of thenew. Go to him, and question him; for his senses are quick as ever;and just now the old man seems uneasy. He is peering with rheumy eyesthrough the groups, and seems listening for a well-known voice.

  "There 'a be again! Why don't 'a come, then?"

  "Quiet, gramfer, and don't trouble his worship."

  "Here an hour, and never speak to poor old Martin! I say, sir"--and theold man feebly plucks Amyas's cloak as he passes. "I say, captain, do 'etell young master old Martin's looking for him."

  "Marcy, gramfer, where's your manners? Don't be vexed, sir, he'm a'mosta babe, and tejous at times, mortal."

  "Young master who?" says Amyas, bending down to the old man, and smilingto the dame to let him have his way.

  "Master Hawkins; he'm never been a-near me all day."

  Off goes Amyas; and, of course, lays hold of the sleeve of young RichardHawkins; but as he is in act to speak, the dame lays hold of his,laughing and blushing.

  "No, sir, not Mr. Richard, sir; Admiral John, sir, his father; he alwayscalls him young master, poor old soul!" and she points to the grizzledbeard and the face scarred and tanned with fifty years of fight andstorm.

  Amyas goes to the Admiral, and gives his message.

  "Mercy on me! Where be my wits? Iss, I'm a-coming," says the old hero inhis broadest Devon, waddles off to the old man, and begins lugging ata pocket. "Here, Martin, I've got mun, I've got mun, man alive; but hisLordship keept me so. Lookee here, then! Why, I do get so lusty of late,Martin, I can't get to my pockets!"

  And out struggle a piece of tarred string, a bundle of papers, athimble, a piece of pudding-tobacco, and last of all, a little paper ofMuscovado sugar--then as great a delicacy as any French bonbons would benow--which he thrusts into the old man's eager and trembling hand.

  Old Martin begins dipping his finger into it, and rubbing it on histoothless gums, smiling and nodding thanks to his young master; whilethe little maid at his knee, unrebuked, takes her share also.

  "There, Admiral Leigh; both ends meet--gramfers and babies! You and Ishall be like to that one day, young Samson!"

  "We shall have slain a good many Philistines first, I hope."

  "Amen! so be it; but look to mun! so fine a sailor as ever drank liquor;and now greedy after a hit of sweet trade! 'tis piteous like; but Ibring mun a hit whenever I come, and he looks for it. He's one of my ownflesh like, is old Martin. He sailed with my father Captain Will, whenthey was both two little cracks aboard of a trawler; and my fatherwent up, and here I am--he didn't, and there he is. We'm up now, weHawkinses. We may be down again some day."

  "Never, I trust," said Amyas.

  "'Tain't no use trusting, young man: you go and do. I do hear too muchof that there from my lad. Let they ministers preach till they'm blackin the face, works is the trade!" with a nudge in Amyas's ribs. "Faithcan't save, nor charity nether. There, you tell with him, while I goplay bowls with Drake. He'll tell you a sight of stories. You ask himabout good King Hal, now, just--"

  And off waddled the Port Admiral.

  "You have seen good King Henry, then, father?" said Amyas, interested.

  The old man's eyes lighted at once, and he stopped mumbling his sugar.

  "Seed mun? Iss, I reckon. I was with Captain Will when he went to meetthe Frenchman there to Calais--at the Field, the Field--"

  "The Field of the Cloth of Gold, gramfer," suggested the dame.

  "That's it. Seed mun? Iss, fegs. Oh, he was a king! The face o' mun likea rising sun, and the back o' mun so broad as that there" (and he heldout his palsied arms), "and the voice of mun! Oh, to hear mun swear ifhe was merry, oh, 'tas royal!--Seed mun? Iss, fegs! And I've seed mun dowhat few has; I've seed mun christle like any child."

  "What--cry?" said Amyas. "I shouldn't have thought there was much cry inhim."

  "You think what you like--"

  "Gramfer, gramfer, don't you be rude, now--

  "Let him go on," said Amyas.

  "I seed mun christle; and, oh dear, how he did put hands on mun's face;and 'Oh, my gentlemen,' says he, 'my gentlemen! Oh, my gallant men!'Them was his very words."

  "But when?"

  "Why, Captain Will had just come to the Hard--that's to Portsmouth--tospeak with mun, and the barge Royal lay again the Hard--so; and our bootalongside--so; and the king he standth as it might be there, above myhead, on the quay edge, and she come in near abreast of us, looking mostroyal to behold, poor dear! and went to cast about. And Captain Will,saith he, 'Them lower ports is cruel near the water;' for she had notmore than a sixteen inches to spare in the nether overloop, as I heardafter. And saith he, 'That won't do for going to windward in a say,Martin.' And as the words came out of mun's mouth, your worship, therewas a bit of a flaw from the westward, sharp like, and overboard goethmy cap, and hitth against the wall, and as I stooped to pick it up, Iheard a cry, and it was all over!"

  "He is telling of the Mary Rose, sir."

  "I guessed so."

  "All over: and the cry of mun, and the screech of mun! Oh, sir, up tothe very heavens! And the king he screeched right out like any maid, 'Ohmy gentlemen, oh my gallant men!' and as she lay on her beam-ends, sir,and just a-settling, the very last souls I seen was that man's father,and that man's. I knowed mun by their armor."

  And he pointed to Sir George Carew and Sir Richard Grenville.

  "Iss! Iss! Drowned like rattens. Drowned like rattens!"

  "Now; you mustn't trouble his worship any more."

  "Trouble? Let him tell till midnight, I shall be well pleased," saidAmyas, sitting down on the bench by him. "Drawer! ale--and a parcel oftobacco."

  And Amyas settled himself to listen, while the old man purred tohimself--

  "Iss. They likes to hear old Martin. All the captains look upon oldMartin."

  "Hillo, Amyas!" said Cary, "who's your friend? Here's a man been tellingme wonders about the River Plate. We should go thither for luck therenext time."

  "River Plate?" said old Martin. "It's I knows about the River Plate;none so well. Who'd ever been there, nor heard of it nether, beforeCaptain Will and me went, and I lived among the savages a whole year;and audacious civil I found 'em if they 'd had but shirts to theirbacks; and so was the prince o' mun, that Captain Will brought home toKing Henry; leastwise he died on the voyage; but the wild folk took itcruel well, for you see, we was always as civil with them as Christians,and if we hadn't been, I should not have been here now."

  "What year was that?"

  "In the fifteen thirty: but I was there afore, and learnt the speecho' mun; and that's why Captain Will left me to a hostage, when he tukedtheir prince."

  "Before that?" said Cary; "why, the country was hardly known beforethat."

  The old man's eyes flashed up in triumph.

  "Knowed? Iss, and you may well say that! Look ye here! Look to mun!" andhe waved his hand round--"There's captains! and I'm the father of 'emall now, now poor Captain Will's in gloory; I, Martin Cockrem! . . .Iss, I've seen a change. I mind when Tavistock Abbey was so fullo' friars, and goolden idols, and sich noxious trade, as ever was awheat-rick of rats. I mind the fight off Brest in the French wars--Oh,that was a fight, surely!--when the Regent and the French Carack wereburnt side by si
de, being fast grappled, you see, because of Sir ThomasKnivet; and Captain Will gave him warning as he ran a-past us, saying,says he--"

  "But," said Amyas, seeing that the old man was wandering away, "what doyou mind about America?"

  "America? I should think so! But I was a-going to tell you of theRegent--and seven hundred Englishmen burnt and drowned in her, and ninehundred French in the Brest ship, besides what we picked up. Oh dear!But about America."

  "Yes, about America. How are you the father of all the captains?"

  "How? you ask my young master! Why, before the fifteen thirty, I was upthe Plate with Cabot (and a cruel fractious ontrustful fellow he was,like all they Portingals), and bid there a year and more, and up theParaguaio with him, diskivering no end; whereby, gentles, I was thefirst Englishman, I hold, that ever sot a foot on the New World, I was!"

  "Then here's your health, and long life, sir!" said Amyas and Cary.

  "Long life? Iss, fegs, I reckon, long enough a'ready! Why, I mind thebeginning of it all, I do. I mind when there wasn't a master marinerto Plymouth, that thought there was aught west of the Land's End exceptherrings. Why, they held them, pure wratches, that if you sailed rightwest away far enough, you'd surely come to the edge, and fall overcleve. Iss--'Twas dark parts round here, till Captain Will arose; andthe first of it I mind was inside the bar of San Lucar, and he and Iwere boys about a ten year old, aboord of a Dartmouth ship, and wentfor wine, and there come in over the bar he that was the beginning of itall."

  "Columbus?"

  "Iss, fegs, he did, not a pistol-shot from us; and I saw mun stand onthe poop, so plain as I see you; no great shakes of a man to lookto nether; there's a sight better here, to plase me, and we wasdisappointed, we lads, for we surely expected to see mun with a gooldencrown on, and a sceptre to a's hand, we did, and the ship o' mun allover like Solomon's temple for gloory. And I mind that same year, too,seeing Vasco da Gama, as was going out over the bar, when he foundthe Bona Speranza, and sailed round it to the Indies. Ah, that was themaking of they rascally Portingals, it was! . . . And our crew told whatthey seen and heerd: but nobody minded sich things. 'Twas dark parts,and Popish, then; and nobody knowed nothing, nor got no schooling, norcared for nothing, but scrattling up and down alongshore like to prawnsin a pule. Iss, sitting in darkness, we was, and the shadow of death,till the day-spring from on high arose, and shined upon us poorout-o'-the-way folk--The Lord be praised! And now, look to mun!" and hewaved his hand all round--"Look to mun! Look to the works of the Lord!Look to the captains! Oh blessed sight! And one's been to the Brazils,and one to the Indies, and the Spanish Main, and the North-West, and theRooshias, and the Chinas, and up the Straits, and round the Cape,and round the world of God, too, bless His holy name; and I seed thebeginning of it; and I'll see the end of it too, I will! I was born intothe old times: but I'll see the wondrous works of the new, yet, I will!I'll see they bloody Spaniards swept off the seas before I die, if myold eyes can reach so far as outside the Sound. I shall, I knows it. Isays my prayers for it every night; don't I, Mary? You'll bate mun, sureas Judgment, you'll bate mun! The Lord'll fight for ye. Nothing'll standagainst ye. I've seed it all along--ever since I was with young masterto the Honduras. They can't bide the push of us! You'll bate mun offthe face of the seas, and be masters of the round world, and all thattherein is. And then, I'll just turn my old face to the wall, and departin peace, according to his word.

  "Deary me, now, while I've been telling with you, here've this littlemaid been and ate up all my sugar!"

  "I'll bring you some more," said Amyas; whom the childish bathos of thelast sentence moved rather to sighs than laughter.

  "Will ye, then? There's a good soul, and come and tell with old Martin.He likes to see the brave young gentlemen, a-going to and fro in theirships, like Leviathan, and taking of their pastime therein. We hadno such ships to our days. Ah, 'tis grand times, beautiful timessurely--and you'll bring me a bit sugar?"

  "You were up the Plate with Cabot?" said Cary, after a pause. "Do youmind the fair lady Miranda, Sebastian de Hurtado's wife?"

  "What! her that was burnt by the Indians? Mind her? Do you mind the sunin heaven? Oh, the beauty! Oh, the ways of her! Oh, the speech of her!Never was, nor never will be! And she to die by they villains; and allfor the goodness of her! Mind her? I minded naught else when she was ondeck."

  "Who was she?" asked Amyas of Cary.

  "A Spanish angel, Amyas."

  "Humph!" said Amyas. "So much the worse for her, to be born into anation of devils."

  "They'em not all so bad as that, yer honor. Her husband was a propergallant gentleman, and kind as a maid, too, and couldn't abide that DeSolis's murderous doings."

  "His wife must have taught it him, then," said Amyas, rising. "Where didyou hear of these black swans, Cary?"

  "I have heard of them, and that's enough," answered he, unwilling tostir sad recollections.

  "And little enough," said Amyas. "Will, don't talk to me. The devil isnot grown white because he has trod in a lime-heap."

  "Or an angel black because she came down a chimney," said Cary; and sothe talk ended, or rather was cut short; for the talk of all the groupswas interrupted by an explosion from old John Hawkins.

  "Fail? Fail? What a murrain do you here, to talk of failing? Who madeyou a prophet, you scurvy, hang-in-the-wind, croaking, white-livered sonof a corby-crow?"

  "Heaven help us, Admiral Hawkins, who has put fire to your culverins inthis fashion?" said Lord Howard.

  "Who? my lord! Croakers! my lord! Here's a fellow calls himself thecaptain of a ship, and her majesty's servant, and talks about failing,as if he were a Barbican loose-kirtle trying to keep her apple-squireashore! Blurt for him, sneak-up! say I."

  "Admiral John Hawkins," quoth the offender, "you shall answer thislanguage with your sword."

  "I'll answer it with my foot; and buy me a pair of horn-tips to myshoes, like a wraxling man. Fight a croaker? Fight a frog, an owl! Ifight those that dare fight, sir!"

  "Sir, sir, moderate yourself. I am sure this gentleman will show himselfas brave as any, when it comes to blows: but who can blame mortal manfor trembling before so fearful a chance as this?"

  "Let mortal man keep his tremblings to himself, then, my lord, and notbe like Solomon's madmen, casting abroad fire and death, and saying, itis only in sport. There is more than one of his kidney, your lordship,who have not been ashamed to play Mother Shipton before their ownsailors, and damp the poor fellows' hearts with crying before they'rehurt, and this is one of them. I've heard him at it afore, and I'llpresent him, with a vengeance, though I'm no church-warden."

  "If this is really so, Admiral Hawkins--"

  "It is so, my lord! I heard only last night, down in a tavern below,such unbelieving talk as made me mad, my lord; and if it had not beenafter supper, and my hand was not oversteady, I would have let out apottle of Alicant from some of their hoopings, and sent them to DickSurgeon, to wrap them in swaddling-clouts, like whining babies asthey are. Marry come up, what says Scripture? 'He that is fearful andfaint-hearted among you, let him go and'--what? son Dick there? Thou'rtpious, and read'st thy Bible. What's that text? A mortal fine one it is,too."

  "'He that is fearful and faint-hearted among you, let him go back,'"quoth the Complete Seaman. "Captain Merryweather, as my father'scommand, as well as his years, forbid his answering your challenge, Ishall repute it an honor to entertain his quarrel myself--place, time,and weapons being at your choice."

  "Well spoken, son Dick!--and like a true courtier, too! Ah! thou hastthe palabras, and the knee, and the cap, and the quip, and the innuendo,and the true town fashion of it all--no old tarry-breeks of a sea-dog,like thy dad! My lord, you'll let them fight?"

  "The Spaniard, sir; but no one else. But, captains and gentlemen,consider well my friend the Port Admiral's advice; and if any man'sheart misgives him, let him, for the sake of his country and his queen,have so much government of his tongue to hide his fears in his ownbosom, and leave open compla
ining to ribalds and women. For if thesailor be not cheered by his commander's cheerfulness, how will theignorant man find comfort in himself? And without faith and hope, howcan he fight worthily?"

  "There is no croaking aboard of us, we will warrant," said twentyvoices, "and shall be none, as long as we command on board our ownships."

  Hawkins, having blown off his steam, went back to Drake and the bowls.

  "Fill my pipe, Drawer--that croaking fellow's made me let it out, ofcourse! Spoil-sports! The father of all manner of troubles on earth,be they noxious trade of croakers! 'Better to meet a bear robbed of herwhelps,' Francis Drake, as Solomon saith, than a fule who can't keep hismouth shut. What brought Mr. Andrew Barker to his death but croakers?What stopped Fenton's China voyage in the '82, and lost your nephewJohn, and my brother Will, glory and hard cash too, but croakers? Whatsent back my Lord Cumberland's armada in the '86, and that after they'dproved their strength, too, sixty o' mun against six hundred Portugalsand Indians; and yet wern't ashamed to turn round and come homeempty-handed, after all my lord's expenses that he had been at? Whatbut these same beggarly croakers, that be only fit to be turned intoyellow-hammers up to Dartymoor, and sit on a tor all day, and cry 'Verylittle bit of bread, and no chee-e-ese!' Marry, sneak-up! say I again."

  "And what," said Drake, "would have kept me, if I'd let 'em, from eversailing round the world, but these same croakers? I hanged my bestfriend for croaking, John Hawkins, may God forgive me if I was wrong,and I threatened a week after to hang thirty more; and I'd have done it,too, if they hadn't clapped tompions into their muzzles pretty fast."

  "You'm right, Frank. My old father always told me--and old King Hal(bless his memory!) would take his counsel among a thousand;--'And, myson,' says he to me, 'whatever you do, never you stand no croaking; buthang mun, son Jack, hang mun up for an ensign. There's Scripture forit,' says he (he was a mighty man to his Bible, after bloody Mary'sdays, leastwise), 'and 'tis written,' says he, 'It's expedient that oneman die for the crew, and that the whole crew perish not; so show youno mercy, son Jack, or you'll find none, least-wise in they manner ofcattle; for if you fail, they stamps on you, and if you succeeds, theytakes the credit of it to themselves, and goes to heaven in your shoes.'Those were his words, and I've found mun true.--Who com'th here now?"

  "Captain Fleming, as I'm a sinner."

  "Fleming? Is he tired of life, that he com'th here to look for a halter?I've a warrant out against mun, for robbing of two Flushingers on thehigh seas, now this very last year. Is the fellow mazed or drunk, then?or has he seen a ghost? Look to mun!"

  "I think so, truly," said Drake. "His eyes are near out of his head."

  The man was a rough-bearded old sea-dog, who had just burst in from thetavern through the low hatch, upsetting a drawer with all his glasses,and now came panting and blowing straight up to the high admiral,--

  "My lord, my lord! They'm coming! I saw them off the Lizard last night!"

  "Who? my good sir, who seem to have left your manners behind you."

  "The Armada, your worship--the Spaniard; but as for my manners, 'tis nofault of mine, for I never had none to leave behind me."

  "If he has not left his manners behind," quoth Hawkins, "look out foryour purses, gentlemen all! He's manners enough, and very bad ones theybe, when he com'th across a quiet Flushinger."

  "If I stole Flushingers' wines, I never stole negurs' souls, JackHawkins; so there's your answer. My lord, hang me if you will; life'sshort and death's easy 'specially to seamen; but if I didn't see theSpanish fleet last sun-down, coming along half-moon wise, and full sevenmile from wing to wing, within a four mile of me, I'm a sinner."

  "Sirrah," said Lord Howard, "is this no fetch, to cheat us out of yourpardon for these piracies of yours?"

  "You'll find out for yourself before nightfall, my lord high admiral.All Jack Fleming says is, that this is a poor sort of an answer to a manwho has put his own neck into the halter for the sake of his country."

  "Perhaps it is," said Lord Howard. "And after all, gentlemen, what canthis man gain by a lie, which must be discovered ere a day is over,except a more certain hanging?"

  "Very true, your lordship," said Hawkins, mollified. "Come here, JackFleming--what wilt drain, man? Hippocras or Alicant, Sack or JohnBarleycorn, and a pledge to thy repentance and amendment of life."

  "Admiral Hawkins, Admiral Hawkins, this is no time for drinking."

  "Why not, then, my lord? Good news should be welcomed with good wine.Frank, send down to the sexton, and set the bells a-ringing to cheer upall honest hearts. Why, my lord, if it were not for the gravity of myoffice, I could dance a galliard for joy!"

  "Well, you may dance, port admiral: but I must go and plan, but God giveto all captains such a heart as yours this day!"

  "And God give all generals such a head as yours! Come, Frank Drake,we'll play the game out before we move. It will be two good days beforewe shall be fit to tackle them, so an odd half-hour don't matter."

  "I must command the help of your counsel, vice-admiral," said LordCharles, turning to Drake.

  "And it's this, my good lord," said Drake, looking up, as he aimed hisbowl. "They'll come soon enough for us to show them sport, and yet slowenough for us to be ready; so let no man hurry himself. And as exampleis better than precept, here goes."

  Lord Howard shrugged his shoulders, and departed, knowing two things:first, that to move Drake was to move mountains; and next, that when theself-taught hero did bestir himself, he would do more work in an hourthan any one else in a day. So he departed, followed hastily by most ofthe captains; and Drake said in a low voice to Hawkins:

  "Does he think we are going to knock about on a lee-shore all theafternoon and run our noses at night--and dead up-wind, too--into theDons' mouths? No, Jack, my friend. Let Orlando-Furioso-punctilio-fire-eaters go and get their knuckles rapped. The following game is the game,and not the meeting one. The dog goes after the sheep, and not aforethem, lad. Let them go by, and go by, and stick to them well towindward, and pick up stragglers, and pickings, too, Jack--the prizes,Jack!"

  "Trust my old eyes for not being over-quick at seeing signals, if I behanging in the skirts of a fat-looking Don. We'm the eagles, Drake; andwhere the carcase is, is our place, eh?"

  And so the two old sea-dogs chatted on, while their companions droppedoff one by one, and only Amyas remained.

  "Eh, Captain Leigh, where's my boy Dick?"

  "Gone off with his lordship, Sir John."

  "On his punctilios too, I suppose, the young slashed-breeks. He's halfa Don, that fellow, with his fine scholarship, and his fine manners,and his fine clothes. He'll get a taking down before he dies, unless hemends. Why ain't you gone too, sir?"

  "I follow my leader," said Amyas, filling his pipe.

  "Well said, my big man," quoth Drake. "If I could lead you round theworld, I can lead you up Channel, can't I?--Eh? my little bantam-cock ofthe Orinoco? Drink, lad! You're over-sad to-day."

  "Not a whit," said Amyas. "Only I can't help wondering whether I shallfind him after all."

  "Whom? That Don? We'll find him for you, if he's in the fleet. We'llsqueeze it out of our prisoners somehow. Eh, Hawkins? I thought all thecaptains had promised to send you news if they heard of him."

  "Ay, but it's ill looking for a needle in a haystack. But I shall findhim. I am a coward to doubt it," said Amyas, setting his teeth.

  "There, vice-admiral, you're beaten, and that's the rubber. Pay upthree dollars, old high-flyer, and go and earn more, like an honestadventurer."

  "Well," said Drake, as he pulled out his purse, "we'll walk down now,and see about these young hot-heads. As I live, they are setting to towthe ships out already! Breaking the men's backs over-night, to make themfight the lustier in the morning! Well, well, they haven't sailed roundthe world, Jack Hawkins."

  "Or had to run home from San Juan d'Ulloa with half a crew.

  "Well, if we haven't to run out with half crews. I saw a sight of ourlads drunk about this morni
ng."

  "The more reason for waiting till they be sober. Besides, if everybody'scaranting about to once each after his own men, nobody'll find nothingin such a scrimmage as that. Bye, bye, Uncle Martin. We'm going to blowthe Dons up now in earnest."