HO! FOR THE SPANISH MAIN.
With a brisk nor'easterly breeze behind her, the _Golden Boar_ slipped
through the sunlit waters of Plymouth Sound as gracefully as a fair
swan might cleave the bosom of a lake. Somewhat narrow in build,
moderately low in the waist, with bow and poop not too high-pitched,
masts tall and sails ample, she was built with an eye to speed. And
with carved posts and rails for her bulwarks, many-windowed cabins in
the after part, tapering, artistic prow with the gilded boar rampant,
her designer had had an eye to beauty also. Hull and decks were of
seasoned English oak, and masts of straight Scots pine. The Knight of
Sherborne had found her building in Plymouth dockyard, and had tempted
her would-be owner to part with her for a price he could not resist.
Captain John Drake had tested her in the Channel from the Goodwins
round to Lundy in fair weather and in foul, and had found no fault in
her. The critical crowd that stood on the Hoe and watched her as she
dipped below the horizon were of opinion that no better-found ship had
left the harbour to brave the perils of the Spanish Main. She was of a
hundred and fifty tons burthen--a goodly tonnage in those venturesome
days--and she carried a captain and crew of twenty men, an equal number
of skilled archers, six gunners, and some dozen and a half of gentlemen
adventurers, who for the most part could handle rope, sail, sword, bow,
pike, or gun as well as any captain might wish. As far as the voyage
was concerned, the expedition was under the absolute command of the
admiral's brother; on land he was bound to take council with the
gentlemen adventurers, all of whom had put some money into the
undertaking. Raleigh himself risked the greatest stake, and in order
after him came Morgan, Captain Dawe (who did not participate in the
voyage itself), the admiral, his brother the skipper, a certain Sir
John Trelawny, and Master Timothy Jeffreys, who had secretly speculated
his own savings and some of those of Mistress Stowe of Wood Street off
Chepe. There was no lack of money in the venture, and the ship was
well-found, well-manned, well-armed, and generously provisioned. Dan
Pengelly's papers were in the cabin; Dan himself was taking first spell
at the helm. Hope was high in every heart, and many a lusty voice
joined in the chorus of the helmsman's song:--
"Then ho! for the Spanish Main,
And ha! for the Spanish gold;
King Philip's ships are riding deep
With the weight of wealth untold.
They're prey for the saucy lads
Who dance on the Plymouth Hoe;
They'll all sail home thro' the fleecy foam,
With a rich galleon in tow-tow-tow,
With a rich galleon in tow!"
Johnnie Morgan was leaning against the stern bulwarks, watching the
heave and fall of the vessel and listening to the sailor's song.
"Hardly to the text, Dan, is it? We are to capture a city and spoil
its treasure houses, and have no idea of hitching a line of galleons
behind us."
"Sir," replied Dan, "as chief helmsman I know we shall go south to the
Azores and follow the Spanish track across the ocean. Ships of King
Philip's we must meet, and maybe, at first, we shall bid them a
good-morrow and kiss our hands to them. But Dons are Dons, and we are
what our forefathers have made us. Ale and beef must fight salt fish
and thin Canary. I have cut ox meat, drunk October, and ploughed the
deep. I know the effect of all on a man's heart and head. I can drink
with a Dutchman and dance with a Frenchman, but, St. George, his sword!
steel springs from scabbard at the sight of a Spanish face. 'Tis the
breed of us, and nature will out."
"And I am the last man to quarrel with my breeding. Well, we are set
forth, and no man can say what may hap ere we see yonder line of cliffs
again."
"True," mused Dan; "but if we break not faith with God and our captain,
nought will happen for which a true man may grieve."
"Amen to that!" said Johnnie, and he fell to watching the sea once more.
Nothing could have been more propitious than the first part of the
voyage. The course was south-west, and for days the wind blew steadily
from the east or north-east. A low, misty line to larboard--the line
of the French coast--was the last sight of Europe the adventurers had.
For fifteen days after this the heaving sea met the whole circle of the
gray-blue horizon. The days grew warmer and the winds softer as they
voyaged south; the good ship was bearing them into the arms of summer.
For some few days there was plenty of bustle aboard. Captain and crew
overhauled the stores and stowed them more securely and handily; they
critically studied the behaviour of their trim little craft as good
seamen should; and the gentlemen adventurers became better acquainted
with one another, and got their sea-legs and sea-stomachs. When the
time came that heads and eyes were no longer turned backwards for a
glimpse of familiar landmarks, but were strained forward towards the
land of their hopes, then those aboard the _Golden Boar_ had settled
down, each in his own place, to form a happy brotherly community,
linked by common hopes, aims, and interests. Sailors, soldiers, and
men of gentle breeding fraternized freely together, each prepared to
stand by the other in the last extremity of danger, or to share loyally
in the fruits of good fortune. Harmony was complete, yet discipline
was perfect; for the skipper was worthy of his name, and that name was
the glorious one of "Drake."
It was an easy matter in those brave old times to get together an
excellent ship's company. Men of all ranks and stations were wild for
adventure, and bold sailors literally trod upon one another in their
eagerness to be berthed aboard a ship chartered for a voyage to the
magic New World. Captain Drake had picked and chosen at his leisure,
and a man needed to be many-sided in his accomplishments to get his
name inscribed on the ship's books. Take Dan Pengelly. He was an
excellent sailor, as bold as a lion, and had sailed the western ocean
before. But a hundred men in Plymouth could claim so much as that.
Dan's precious packet and his skill as a singer were the deciding
points in his favour. A capable band of musicians could be mustered
from amongst the crew and the archers. Life aboard the _Golden Boar_
was jolly enough, and no man in the whole company wished to be
otherwhere. Glorious days! heroic hearts! and happy, happy, land that
bred them!
The Azores were readied without accident, almost without incident, and
Captain Drake sailed boldly into the harbour of Flores and sent ashore
for fresh fruits and water. There were two Spanish vessels in the
harbour, one a heavily-armed galleon of about six hundred tons. Like
the English ship, she was going westwards, her destination being Vera
Cruz, from which port she was to escort a treasure-ship filled with the
produce of the Mexican mines. When the English captain heard this he
resolved, other things failing him, to bear King Philip's treasure to
Europe himself. His company was eager to be away, so a night and a day
completed his stay at Flores.
And now for a full month, with varying winds and under changing skies,
through storm and shine, the _Golden Boar_ ploughed her ocean furrow in
the path of the sun; and on the twenty-fourth of May she cast anchor in
the bay of San Joseph, Trinidad. West and north of her lay the
multitudinous islands of the fertile Indies. Southwards stretched the
continuation of the great American continent, the land of so many
dreams and hopes and desires. Johnnie Morgan stood with Master
Jeffreys and gazed at the long-sought land--at its waving palms, its
gleaming sands, the native huts, and the white houses of the Spaniards.
A native boat shot out from the shore. Two dusky, pleasant-faced
fellows stepped aboard. Johnnie went forward. He put out his hand and
touched them with trembling fingers. Wonderful, new creatures!