When Drake left for Nombre de Dios in the spring of 1572, Spain and
England were both ready to fly at each other's throats. When he Came
back in the summer of 1573, they were all for making
friends—hypocritically so, but friends. Drake's plunder stank in the
nostrils of the haughty Dons. It was a very inconvenient factor in the
diplomatic problem for Elizabeth. Therefore Drake disappeared and his
plunder too. He went to Ireland on service in the navy. His plunder was
divided up in secrecy among all the high and low contracting parties.
In 1574 the Anglo-Spanish scene had changed again. The Spaniards had
been so harassed by the English sea-dogs between the Netherlands and
Spain that Philip listened to his great admiral, Menendez, who,
despairing of direct attack on England, proposed to seize the Scilly
Isles and from that naval base clear out a way through all the pirates
of the English Channel. War seemed certain. But a terrible epidemic
broke out in the Spanish fleet. Menendez died. And Philip changed his
policy again.
This same year John Oxenham, Drake's old second-in-command, sailed over
to his death. The Spaniards caught him on the Isthmus of Darien and
hanged him as a pirate at Lima in Peru.
In the autumn of 1575 Drake returned to England with a new friend,
Thomas Doughty, a soldier-scholar of the Renaissance, clever and good
company, but one of those 'Italianate' Englishmen who gave rise to the
Italian proverb: _Inglese italianato è diavolo incarnato—_'an
Italianized Englishman is the very Devil.' Doughty was patronized by
the Earl of Essex, who had great influence at court.
The next year, 1576, is noted for the 'Spanish Fury.' Philip's sea
power was so hampered by the Dutch and English privateers, and he was
so impotent against the English navy, that he could get no ready money,
either by loan or from America, to pay his troops in Antwerp. These
men, reinforced by others, therefore mutinied and sacked the whole of
Antwerp, killing all who opposed them and practically ruining the city
from which Charles V used to draw such splendid subsidies. The result
was a strengthening of Dutch resistance everywhere.
Elizabeth had been unusually tortuous in her policy about this time.
But in 1577 she was ready for another shot at Spain, provided always
that it entailed no open war. Don John of Austria, natural son of
Charles V, had all the shining qualities that his legitimate
half-brother Philip lacked. He was the hero of Lepanto and had offered
to conquer the Moors in Tunis if Philip would let him rule as king.
Philip, crafty, cold, and jealous, of course refused and sent him to
the Netherlands instead. Here Don John formed the still more aspiring
plan of pacifying the Dutch, marrying Mary Queen of Scots, deposing
Elizabeth, and reigning over all the British Isles. The Pope had
blessed both schemes. But the Dutch insisted on the immediate
withdrawal of the Spanish troops. This demolished Don John's plan. But
it pleased Philip, who could now ruin his brilliant brother by letting
him wear himself out by trying to govern the Netherlands without an
army. Then the Duke of Anjou, brother to the King of France, came into
the fast-thickening plot at the head of the French rescuers of the
Netherlands from Spain. But a victorious French army in the Netherlands
was worse for England than even Spanish rule there. So Elizabeth tried
to support the Dutch enough to annoy Philip and at the same time keep
them independent of the French.
In her desire to support them against Philip indirectly she found it
convenient to call Drake into consultation. Drake then presented to Sir
Francis Walsingham his letter of commendation from the Earl of Essex,
under whom he had served in Ireland; whereupon 'Secretary Walsingham
[the first civilian who ever grasped the principle of modern sea power]
declared that Her Majesty had received divers injuries of the King of
Spain, for which she desired revenge. He showed me a plot [map] willing
me to note down where he might be most annoyed. But I refused to set my
hand to anything, affirming that Her Majesty was mortal, and that if it
should please God to take Her Majesty away that some prince might reign
that might be in league with the King of Spain, and then would my own
hand be a witness against myself.' Elizabeth was forty-four. Mary Queen
of Scots was watching for the throne. Plots and counter-plots were
everywhere.
Shortly after this interview Drake was told late at night that he
should have audience of Her Majesty next day. On seeing him, Elizabeth
went straight to the point. 'Drake, I would gladly be revenged on the
King of Spain for divers injuries that I have received.' 'And withal,'
says Drake, 'craved my advice therein; who told Her Majesty the only
way was to annoy him by the Indies.' On that he disclosed his whole
daring scheme for raiding the Pacific. Elizabeth, who, like her father,
'loved a man' who was a man, fell in with this at once. Secrecy was of
course essential. 'Her Majesty did swear by her Crown that if any
within her realm did give the King of Spain to understand hereof they
should lose their heads therefor.' At a subsequent audience 'Her
Majesty gave me special commandment that of all men my Lord Treasurer
should not know of it.' The cautious Lord Treasurer Burleigh was
against what he considered dangerous forms of privateering and was for
keeping on good terms with Spanish arms and trade as long as possible.
Mendoza, lynx-eyed ambassador of Spain, was hoodwinked. But Doughty,
the viper in Drake's bosom, was meditating mischief: not exactly
treason with Spain, but at least a breach of confidence by telling
Burleigh.
De Guaras, chief Spanish spy in England, was sorely puzzled. Drake's
ostensible destination was Egypt, and his men were openly enlisted for
Alexandria. The Spaniards, however, saw far enough through this to
suppose that he was really going back to Nombre de Dios. It did not
seem likely, though quite possible, that he was going in search of the
Northwest Passage, for Martin Frobisher had gone out on that quest the
year before and had returned with a lump of black stone from the arctic
desolation of Baffin Island. No one seems to have divined the truth.
Cape Horn was unknown. The Strait of Magellan was supposed to be the
only opening between South America and a huge antarctic continent, and
its reputation for disasters had grown so terrible, and rightly
terrible, that it had been given up as the way into the Pacific. The
Spanish way, as we have seen, was overland from Nombre de Dios to
Panama, more or less along the line of the modern Panama Canal.
In the end Drake got away quietly enough, on the 15th of November,
1577. The court and country were in great excitement over the
conspiracy between the Spaniards and Mary Queen of Scots, now a
prisoner of nine years' standing.
'THE FAMOUS VOYAGE OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE _into the South Sea, and
therehence about the whole Globe of the Earth, begun in the year of our
Lord 1577_' well deserves its great renown. Drake's flotilla seems
absurdly small. But, for its own time, it was far from insignificant;
and it was exceedingly well found. The _Pelican_, afterwards called the
_Golden Hind_, though his flagship, was of only a hundred tons. The
_Elizabeth_, the _Swan_, the _Marigold_, and the _Benedict_ were of
eighty, fifty, thirty, and fifteen. There were altogether less than
three hundred tons and two hundred men. The crews numbered a hundred
and fifty. The rest were gentlemen-adventurers, special artificers, two
trained surveyors, musicians, boys, and Drake's own page, Jack Drake.
There was great store of wild-fire, chain-shot, harquebusses, pistols,
corslets, bows and other like weapons in great abundance. Neither had
he omitted to make provision for ornament and delight, carrying with
him expert musicians, rich furniture (all the vessels for his table,
yea, many belonging even to the cook-room, being of pure silver), and
divers shows of all sorts of curious workmanship whereby the civility
and magnificence of his native country might amongst all nations
withersoever he should come, be the more admired.'[3]
[3: The little handbook issued by Pette and Jackman in 1580, for those
whom we should now call commercial travellers, is full of 'tips' about
'Thinges to be carried with you, whereof more or lesse is to be carried
for a shewe of our commodities to bee made.' For instance:—'Kersies of
all orient couleurs, specially of stamel (fine worsted), brode cloth of
orient couleurs also. Taffeta hats. Deepe cappes for mariners. Quilted
Cappes of Levant Taffeta of divers coulours, for the night. Garters of
Silke. Girdels of Buffe and all leathers, with gilt and ungilt Buckles,
specially wast girdels. Wast girdels of velvet. Gloves of all sortes,
knit and of leather. Gloves perfumed. Shooes of Spanish leather, of
divers colours. Looking glasses for Women, great and fayre. Comes of
Ivorie. Handkerchewes, with silk of divers colours, wrought. Glasen
eyes to ride with against dust [so motor goggles are not so new, after
all!]. Boxes with weightes of golde, and every kind of coyne of golde,
to shewe that the people here use weight and measure, which is a
certayne shewe of wisedome, and of a certayne government settled here.'
There are also elaborate directions about what to take 'For
banketing on shipborde of persons of credite' [and prospective
customers]. 'First, the sweetest perfumes to set under hatches to
make the place smell sweete against their coming aborde. Marmelade.
Sucket [candies]. Figges barrelled. Raisins of the Sun. Comfets
that shall not dissolve. Prunes damaske. Dried peres. Walnuttes.
Almondes. Olives, to make them taste their wine. The Apple John
that dureth two yeares, to make showe of our fruites. Hullocke [a
sweet wine]. Sacke. Vials of good sweet waters, and casting-bottels
of glass, to besprinckel the gests withal, after their coming
aborde. The sweet oyle of Xante and excellent French vinegar and a
fine kind of Bisket steeped in the same do make a banketting dishe.
and a little Sugar cast in it cooleth and comforteth, and
refresheth the spirittes of man. Synomomme Water and Imperiall
Water is to be had with you to comfort your sicke in the voyage.'
No feature is neglected. 'Take with you the large mappe of London
and let the river be drawn full of shippes to make the more showe
of your great trade. The booke of the Attyre of All Nations carried
with you and bestowed in gift would be much esteemed. Tinder boxes,
with steel, flint, and matches. A painted Bellowes, for perhaps
they have not the use of them. All manner of edge tools. Note
specially what dyeing they use.' After many more items the authors
end up with two bits of good advice. 'Take with you those things
that bee in the Perfection of Goodnesse to make your commodities in
credit in time to come.' 'Learn what the Country hath before you
offer your commodities for sale; for if you bring thither what you
yourself desire to lade yourself home with, you must not sell yours
deare lest hereafter you purchase theirs not so cheape as you
would.']
Sou'sou'west went Drake's flotilla and made its landfall 'towards the
Pole Antartick' off the 'Land of Devils' in 31° 40' south, northeast of
Montevideo. Frightful storms had buffeted the little ships about for
weary weeks together, and all hands thought they were the victims of
some magician on board, perhaps the 'Italianate' Doughty, or else of
native witchcraft from the shore. The experienced old pilot, who was a
Portuguese, explained that the natives had sold themselves to Devils,
who were kinder masters than the Spaniards, and that 'now when they see
ships they cast sand into the air, whereof ariseth a most gross thick
fogg and palpable darkness, and withal horrible, fearful, and
intolerable winds, rains, and storms.'
But witchcraft was not Thomas Doughty's real offence. Even before
leaving England, and after betraying Elizabeth and Drake to Burleigh,
who wished to curry favor with the Spanish traders rather than provoke
the Spanish power, Doughty was busy tampering with the men. A
storekeeper had to be sent back for peculation designed to curtail
Drake's range of action. Then Doughty tempted officers and men: talked
up the terrors of Magellan's Strait, ran down his friend's authority,
and finally tried to encourage downright desertion by underhand means.
This was too much for Drake. Doughty was arrested, tied to the mast,
and threatened with dire punishment if he did not mend his ways. But he
would not mend his ways. He had a brother on board and a friend, a
'very craftie lawyer'; so stern measures were soon required. Drake held
a sort of court-martial which condemned Doughty to death. Then Doughty,
having played his last card and lost, determined to die 'like an
officer and gentleman.'
Drake solemnly 'pronounced him the child of Death and persuaded him
that he would by these means make him the servant of God.' Doughty fell
in with the idea and the former friends took the Sacrament together,
'for which Master Doughty gave him hearty thanks, never otherwise
terming him than "My good Captaine."' Chaplain Fletcher having ended
with the absolution, Drake and Doughty sat down together 'as cheerfully
as ever in their lives, each cheering up the other and taking their
leave by drinking to each other, as if some journey had been in hand.'
Then Drake and Doughty went aside for a private conversation of which
no record has remained. After this Doughty walked to the place of
execution, where, like King Charles I,
He nothing common did or mean
Upon that memorable scene.
'And so bidding the whole company farewell he laid his head on the
block.' 'Lo! this is the end of traitors!' said Drake as the
executioner raised the head aloft.
Drake, like Magellan, decided to winter where he was, in Port St.
Julian on the east coast of Patagonia. His troubles with the men were
not yet over; for the soldiers resented being put on an equality with
the sailors, and the 'very craftie lawyer' and Doughty's brother were
anything but pleased with the turn events had taken. Then, again, the
faint-hearts murmured in their storm-beaten tents against the horrors
of the awful Straits. So Drake resolved to make things clear for good
and all. Unfolding a document he began: 'My Masters, I am a very bad
orator, for my bringing up hath not been in learning, but what I shall
speak here let every man take good notice of and let him write it down;
for I will speak nothing but I will answer it in England, yea, and
before Her Majesty, and I have it here already set down.' Then, after
reminding them of the great adventure before them and saying that
mutiny and dissension must stop at once, he went on: 'For by the life
of God it doth even take my wits from me to think of it. Here is such
controversy between the gentlemen and sailors that it doth make me mad
to hear it. I must have the gentleman to haul with the mariner and the
mariner with the gentleman. I would know him that would refuse to set
his hand to a rope! But I know there is not any such here.' To those
whose hearts failed them he offered the _Marigold_. 'But let them go
homeward; for if I find them in my way, I will surely sink them.' Not a
man stepped forward. Then, turning to the officers, he discharged every
one of them for re-appointment at his pleasure. Next, he made the worst
offenders, the 'craftie lawyer' included, step to the front for
reprimand. Finally, producing the Queen's commission, he ended by a
ringing appeal to their united patriotism. 'We have set by the ears
three mighty Princes [the sovereigns of England, Spain, and Portugal];
and if this voyage should not have success we should not only be a
scorning unto our enemies but a blot on our country for ever. What
triumph would it not be for Spain and Portugal! The like of this would
never more be tried.' Then he gave back every man his rank again,
explaining that he and they were all servants of Her Majesty together.
With this the men marched off, loyal and obedient, to their tents.
Next week Drake sailed for the much dreaded Straits, before entering
which he changed the _Pelican's_ name to the _Golden Hind_, which was
the crest of Sir Christopher Hatton, one of the chief promoters of the
enterprise and also one of Doughty's patrons. Then every vessel struck
her topsail to the bunt in honor of the Queen as well as to show that
all discoveries and captures were to be made in her sole name.
Seventeen days of appalling dangers saw them through the Straits, where
icy squalls came rushing down from every quarter of the baffling
channels. But the Pacific was still worse. For no less than fifty-two
consecutive days a furious gale kept driving them about like so many
bits of driftwood. 'The like of it no traveller hath felt, neither hath
there ever been such a tempest since Noah's flood.' The little English
vessels fought for their very lives in that devouring hell of waters,
the loneliest and most stupendous in the world. The _Marigold_ went
down with all hands, and Parson Fletcher, who heard their dying call,
thought it was a judgment. At last the gale abated near Cape Horn,
where Drake landed with a compass, while Parson Fletcher set up a stone
engraved with the Queen's name and the date of the discovery.
Deceived by the false trend of the coast shown on the Spanish charts
Drake went a long way northwest from Cape Horn. Then he struck in
northeast and picked up the Chilean Islands. It was December, 1578; but
not a word of warning had reached the Spanish Pacific when Drake stood
in to Valparaiso. Seeing a sail, the crew of the _Grand Captain of the
South_ got up a cask of wine and beat a welcome on their drums. In the
twinkling of an eye gigantic Tom Moone was over the side at the head of
a party of boarders who laid about them with a will and soon drove the
Spaniards below. Half a million dollars' worth of gold and jewels was
taken with this prize.
Drake then found a place in Salado Bay where he could clean the _Golden
Hind_ while the pinnace ranged south to look for the other ships that
had parted company during the two months' storm. These were never
found, the _Elizabeth_ and the _Swan_ having gone home after parting
company in the storm that sank the _Marigold_. After a prolonged search
the _Golden Hind_ stood north again. Meanwhile the astounding news of
her arrival was spreading dismay all over the coast, where the old
Spanish governor's plans were totally upset. The Indians had just been
defeated when this strange ship came sailing in from nowhere, to the
utter confusion of their enemies. The governor died of vexation, and
all the Spanish authorities were nearly worried to death. They had
never dreamt of such an invasion. Their crews were small, their
lumbering vessels very lightly armed, their towns unfortified.
But Drake went faster by sea than their news by land. Every vessel was
overhauled, taken, searched, emptied of its treasure, and then sent
back with its crew and passengers at liberty. One day a watering party
chanced upon a Spaniard from Potosi fast asleep with thirteen bars of
silver by him. The bars were lifted quietly and the Spaniard left
sleeping peacefully. Another Spaniard suddenly came round a corner with
half a ton of silver on eight llamas. The Indians came off to trade;
and Drake, as usual, made friends with them at once. He had already
been attacked by other Indians on both coasts. But this was because the
unknown English had been mistaken for the hated Spaniards.
As he neared Lima, Drake quickened his pace lest the great annual
treasure ship of 1579 should get wind of what was wrong. A minor
treasure ship was found to have been cleared of all her silver just in
time to balk him. So he set every stitch of canvas she possessed and
left her driving out to sea with two other empty prizes. Then he stole
into Lima after dark and came to anchor surrounded by Spanish vessels
not one of which had set a watch. They were found nearly empty. But a
ship from Panama looked promising; so the pinnace started after her,
but was fired on and an Englishman was killed. Drake then followed her,
after cutting every cable in the harbor, which soon became a
pandemonium of vessels gone adrift. The Panama ship had nothing of
great value except her news, which was that the great treasure ship
_Nuestra Señora de la Concepcion_, 'the chiefest glory of the whole
South Sea,' was on her way to Panama.
She had a very long start; and, as ill luck would have it, Drake got
becalmed outside Callao, where the bells rang out in wild alarm. The
news had spread inland and the Viceroy of Peru came hurrying down with
all the troops that he could muster. Finding from some arrows that the
strangers were Englishmen, he put four hundred soldiers into the only
two vessels that had escaped the general wreck produced by Drake's
cutting of the cables. When Drake saw the two pursuing craft, he took
back his prize crew from the Panama vessel, into which he put his
prisoners. Meanwhile a breeze sprang up and he soon drew far ahead. The
Spanish soldiers overhauled the Panama prize and gladly gave up the
pursuit. They had no guns of any size with which to fight the _Golden
Hind_; and most of them were so sea-sick from the heaving ground-swell
that they couldn't have boarded her in any case.
Three more prizes were then taken by the swift _Golden Hind_. Each one
had news which showed that Drake was closing on the chase. Another week
passed with every stitch of canvas set. A fourth prize, taken off Cape
San Francisco, said that the treasure ship was only one day ahead. But
she was getting near to Panama; so every nerve was strained anew.
Presently Jack Drake, the Captain's page, yelled out _Sail-ho!_ and
scrambled down the mainmast to get the golden chain that Drake had
promised to the first lookout who saw the chase. It was ticklish work,
so near to Panama; and local winds might ruin all. So Drake, in order
not to frighten her, trailed a dozen big empty wine jars over the stern
to moderate his pace. At eight o'clock the jars were cut adrift and the
_Golden Hind_ sprang forward with the evening breeze, her crew at
battle quarters and her decks all cleared for action The chase was
called the 'Spitfire' by the Spaniards because she was much better
armed than any other vessel there. But, all the same, her armament was
nothing for her tonnage. The Spaniards trusted to their remoteness for
protection; and that was their undoing.
To every Englishman's amazement the chase was seen to go about and
calmly come to hail the _Golden Hind_, which she mistook for a despatch
vessel sent after her with some message from the Viceroy! Drake, asking
nothing better, ran up alongside as Anton her captain hailed him with a
_Who are you? A ship of Chili!_ answered Drake. Anton looked down on
the stranger's deck to see it full of armed men from whom a roar of
triumph came. _English! strike sail!_ Then Drake's whistle blew sharply
and instant silence followed; on which he hailed Don Anton:—_Strike
sail! Señor Juan de Anton, or I must send you to the bottom!—Come
aboard and do it yourself!_ bravely answered Anton. Drake's whistle
blew one shrill long blast, which loosed a withering volley at less
than point-blank range. Anton tried to bear away and shake off his
assailant. But in vain. The English guns now opened on his masts and
rigging. Down came the mizzen, while a hail of English shot and arrows
prevented every attempt to clear away the wreckage. The dumbfounded
Spanish crew ran below, Don Anton looked overside to port; and there
was the English pinnace, from which forty English boarders were nimbly
climbing up his own ship's side. Resistance was hopeless; so Anton
struck and was taken aboard the _Golden Hind_. There he met Drake, who
was already taking off his armor. 'Accept with patience the usage of
war,' said Drake, laying his hand on Anton's shoulder.
For all that night, next day, and the next night following Drake sailed
west with his fabulous prize so as to get well clear of the trade route
along the coast. What the whole treasure was has never been revealed.
But it certainly amounted to the equivalent of many millions at the
present day. Among the official items were: 13 chests of pieces of
eight, 80 lbs. of pure gold, jewels and plate, 26 ton weight of silver,
and sundries unspecified. As the Spanish pilot's son looked over the
rail at this astounding sight, the Englishmen called out to say that
his father was no longer the pilot of the old Spit-_fire_ but of the
new Spit-_silver_.
The prisoners were no less gratified than surprised by Drake's kind
treatment. He entertained Don Anton at a banquet, took him all over the
_Golden Hind_, and entrusted him with a message to Don Martin, the
traitor of San Juan de Ulua. This was to say that if Don Martin hanged
any more Englishmen, as he had just hanged Oxenham, he should soon be
given a present of two thousand Spanish heads. Then Drake gave every
Spanish officer and man a personal gift proportioned to his rank, put
all his accumulated prisoners aboard the emptied treasure ship, wished
them a prosperous voyage and better luck next time, furnished the brave
Don Anton with a letter of protection in case he should fall in with an
English vessel, and, after many expressions of goodwill on both sides,
sailed north, the voyage 'made'; while the poor 'spit-silver' treasure
ship turned sadly east and steered for Panama.
Lima, Panama, and Nombre de Dios were in wild commotion at the news;
and every sailor and soldier that the Spaniards had was going to and
fro, uncertain whether to attack or to defend, and still more
distracted as to the most elusive English whereabouts. One good Spanish
captain, Don Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa, was all for going north, his
instinct telling him that Drake would not come back among the angry
bees after stealing all the honey. But, by the time the Captain-General
of New Spain had made up his mind to take one of the many wrong
directions he had been thinking of, Drake was already far on his way
north to found New Albion.
Drake's triumph over all difficulties had won the hearts of his men
more than ever before, while the capture of the treasure ship had done
nothing to loosen the bonds of discipline. Don Francisco de Zarate
wrote a very intimate account of his experience as a prisoner on board
the _Golden Hind._ 'The English captain is one of the greatest mariners
at sea, alike from his skill and his powers of command. His ship is a
very fast sailer and her men are all skilled hands of warlike age and
so well trained that they might be old soldiers of the Italian
tertias,' the crack corps of the age in Spanish eyes. 'He is served
with much plate and has all possible kinds of delicacies and scents,
many of which he says the Queen of England gave him. None of the
gentlemen sit or cover in his presence without first being ordered to
do so. They dine and sup to the music of violins. His galleon carries
about thirty guns and a great deal of ammunition.' This was in marked
contrast to the common Spanish practice, even on the Atlantic side. The
greedy exploiters of New Spain grudged every ton of armament and every
well-trained fighting sailor, both on account of the expense and
because this form of protection took up room they wished to fill with
merchandise. The result was, of course, that they lost more by capture
than they gained by evading the regulation about the proper armament.
'His ship is not only of the very latest type but sheathed.' Before
copper sheathing was invented some generations later, the Teredo worm
used to honeycomb unprotected hulls in the most dangerous way. John
Hawkins invented the sheathing used by Drake: a good thick tar-and-hair
sheeting clamped on with elm.
Northwest to Coronado, then to Aguatulco, then fifteen hundred miles
due west, brought Drake about that distance west-by-south of the modern
San Francisco. Here he turned east-north-east and, giving the land a
wide berth, went on to perhaps the latitude of Vancouver Island, always
looking for the reverse way through America by the fabled Northwest
Passage. Either there was the most extraordinary June ever known in
California and Oregon, or else the narratives of those on board have
all been hopelessly confused, for freezing rain is said to have fallen
on the night of June the 3d in the latitude of 42°. In 48° 'there
followed most vile, thick, and stinking fogs' with still more numbing
cold. The meat froze when taken off the fire. The wet rigging turned to
icicles. Six men could hardly do the work of three. Fresh from the
tropics, the crews were unfit for going any farther. A tremendous
nor'wester settled the question, anyway; and Drake ran south to 38°
30', where, in what is now Drake's Bay, he came to anchor just north of
San Francisco.
Not more than once, if ever at all, and that a generation earlier, had
Europeans been in northern California. The Indians took the Englishmen
for gods whom they knew not whether to love or fear. Drake with the
essential kindliness of most, and the magnetic power of all, great born
commanders, soon won the natives' confidence. But their admiration 'as
men ravished in their minds' was rather overpowering; for, after 'a
kind of most lamentable weeping and crying out,' they came forward with
various offerings for the new-found gods, prostrating themselves in
humble adoration and tearing their breasts and faces in a wild desire
to show the spirit of self-sacrifice. Drake and his men, all
Protestants, were horrified at being made what they considered idols.
So kneeling down, they prayed aloud, raising hands and eyes to Heaven,
hoping thereby to show the heathen where the true God lived. Drake then
read the Bible and all the Englishmen sang Psalms, the Indians,
'observing the end of every pause, with one voice still cried _Oh!_
greatly rejoicing in our exercises.' As this impromptu service ended
the Indians gave back all the presents Drake had given them and retired
in attitudes of adoration.
In three days more they returned, headed by a Medicine-man, whom the
English called the 'mace-bearer.' With the slow and stately measure of
a mystic dance this great high priest of heathen rites advanced
chanting a sort of litany. Both litany and dance were gradually taken
up by tens, by hundreds, and finally by all the thousands of the
devotees, who addressed Drake with shouts of _Hyoh!_ and invested him
with a headdress of rare plumage and a necklace of quaint beads. It
was, in fact, a native coronation without a soul to doubt the divine
right of their new king. Drake's Protestant scruples were quieted by
thinking 'to what good end God had brought this to pass, and what
honour and profit it might bring to our country in time to come. So, in
the name and to the use of her most excellent Majesty, he took the
sceptre, crown, and dignity' and proclaimed an English protectorate
over the land he called New Albion. He then set up a brass plate
commemorating this proclamation, and put an English coin in the middle
so that the Indians might see Elizabeth's portrait and armorial device.
The exaltation of the ecstatic devotees continued till the day he left.
They crowded in to be cured by the touch of his hand—those were the
times in which the sovereign was expected to cure the King's Evil by a
touch. They also expected to be cured by inhaling the divine breath of
any one among the English gods. The chief narrator adds that the gods
who pleased the Indians most, braves and squaws included, 'were
commonly the youngest of us,' which shows that the human was not quite
forgotten in the all-divine. When the time for sailing came, the
devotees were inconsolable. 'They not only in a sudden did lose all
mirth, joy, glad countenance, pleasant speeches, agility of body, and
all pleasure, but, with sighs and sorrowings, they poured out woefull
complayntes and moans with bitter tears, and wringing of their hands,
and tormenting of themselves.' The last the English saw of them was the
whole devoted tribe assembled on the hill around a sacrificial fire,
whence they implored their gods to bring their heaven back to earth.
From California Drake sailed to the Philippines; and then to the
Moluccas, where the Portuguese had, if such a thing were possible,
outdone even the Spaniards in their fiendish dealings with the natives.
Lopez de Mosquito—viler than his pestilential name—had murdered the
Sultan, who was then his guest, chopped up the body, and thrown it into
the sea. Baber, the Sultan's son, had driven out the Portuguese from
the island of Ternate and was preparing to do likewise from the island
of Tidore, when Drake arrived. Baber then offered Drake, for Queen
Elizabeth, the complete monopoly of the trade in spices if only Drake
would use the _Golden Hind_ as the flagship against the Portuguese.
Drake's reception was full of Oriental state; and Sultan Baber was so
entranced by Drake's musicians that he sat all afternoon among them in
a boat towed by the _Golden Hind_. But it was too great a risk to take
a hand in this new war with only fifty-six men left. So Drake traded
for all the spices he could stow away and concluded a sort of
understanding which formed the sheet anchor of English diplomacy in
Eastern seas for another century to come. Elizabeth was so delighted
with this result that she gave Drake a cup (still at the family seat of
Nutwell Court in Devonshire) engraved with a picture of his reception
by the Sultan Baber of Ternate.
Leaving Ternate, the _Golden Hind_ beat to and fro among the tortuous
and only half-known channels of the Archipelago till the 9th of
January, 1580, when she bore away before a roaring trade wind with all
sail set and, so far as Drake could tell, a good clear course for home.
But suddenly, without a moment's warning, there was a most terrific
shock. The gallant ship reared like a stricken charger, plunged
forward, grinding her trembling hull against the rocks, and then lay
pounding out her life upon a reef. Drake and his men at once took in
half the straining sails; then knelt in prayer; then rose to see what
could be done by earthly means. To their dismay there was no holding
ground on which to get an anchor fast and warp the vessel off. The lead
could find no bottom anywhere aft. All night long the _Golden Hind_
remained fast caught in this insidious death-trap. At dawn Parson
Fletcher preached a sermon and administered the Blessed Sacrament. Then
Drake ordered ten tons overboard—cannon, cloves, and provisions. The
tide was now low and she sewed seven feet, her draught being thirteen
and the depth of water only six. Still she kept an even keel as the
reef was to leeward and she had just sail enough to hold her up. But at
high tide in the afternoon there was a lull and she began to heel over
towards the unfathomable depths. Just then, however, a quiver ran
through her from stem to stern; an extra sail that Drake had ordered up
caught what little wind there was; and, with the last throb of the
rising tide, she shook herself free and took the water as quietly as if
her hull was being launched. There were perils enough to follow:
dangers of navigation, the arrival of a Portuguese fleet that was only
just eluded, and all the ordinary risks of travel in times when what
might be called the official guide to voyagers opened with the ominous
advice, _First make thy Will_. But the greatest had now been safely
passed.
Meanwhile all sorts of rumors were rife in Spain, New Spain, and
England. Drake had been hanged. That rumor came from the hanging of
John Oxenham at Lima. The _Golden Hind_ had foundered. That tale was
what Winter, captain of the _Elizabeth_, was not altogether unwilling
should be thought after his own failure to face another great antarctic
storm. He had returned in 1578. News from Peru and Mexico came home in
1579; but no Drake. So, as 1580 wore on, his friends began to despair,
the Spaniards and Portuguese rejoiced, while Burleigh, with all who
found Drake an inconvenience in their diplomatic way, began to hope
that perhaps the sea had smoothed things over. In August the London
merchants were thrown into consternation by the report of Drake's
incredible captures; for their own merchant fleet was just then off for
Spain. They waited on the Council, who soothed them with the assurance
that Drake's voyage was a purely private venture so far as prizes were
concerned. With this diplomatic quibble they were forced to be content.
But worse was soon to follow. The king of Portugal died. Philip's army
marched on Lisbon immediately, and all the Portuguese possessions were
added to the already overgrown empire of Spain. Worse still, this
annexation gave Philip what he wanted in the way of ships; for Portugal
had more than Spain. The Great Armada was now expected to be formed
against England, unless Elizabeth's miraculous diplomacy could once
more get her clear of the fast-entangling coils. To add to the general
confusion, this was also the year in which the Pope sent his picked
Jesuits to England, and in which Elizabeth was carrying on her last
great international flirtation with ugly, dissipated Francis of Anjou,
brother to the king of France.
Into this imbroglio sailed the _Golden Hind_ with ballast of silver and
cargo of gold. 'Is Her Majesty alive and well?' said Drake to the first
sail outside of Plymouth Sound. 'Ay, ay, she is, my Master,' answered
the skipper of a fishing smack, 'but there's a deal o' sickness here in
Plymouth'; on which Drake, ready for any excuse to stay afloat, came to
anchor in the harbor. His wife, pretty Mary Newman from the banks of
Tavy, took boat to see him, as did the Mayor, whose business was to
warn him to keep quiet till his course was clear. So Drake wrote off to
the Queen and all the Councillors who were on his side. The answer from
the Councillors was not encouraging; so he warped out quietly and
anchored again behind Drake's Island in the Sound. But presently the
Queen's own message came, commanding him to an audience at which, she
said, she would be pleased to view some of the curiosities he had
brought from foreign parts. Straight on that hint he started up to town
with spices, diamonds, pearls, and gold enough to win any woman's
pardon and consent.
The audience lasted six hours. Meanwhile the Council sat without any of
Drake's supporters and ordered all the treasure to be impounded in the
Tower. But Leicester, Walsingham, and Hatton, all members of Drake's
syndicate, refused to sign; while Elizabeth herself, the managing
director, suspended the order till her further pleasure should be
known. The Spanish ambassador 'did burn with passion against Drake.'
The Council was distractingly divided. The London merchants trembled
for their fleet. But Elizabeth was determined that the blow to Philip
should hurt him as much as it could without producing an immediate war;
while down among Drake's own West-Countrymen 'the case was clear in sea
divinitie,' as similar cases had often been before. Tremayne, a
Devonshire magistrate and friend of the syndicate, could hardly find
words to express his contentment with Drake, whom he called 'a man of
great government, and that by the rules of God and His Book.'
Elizabeth decided to stand by Drake. She claimed, what was true, that
he had injured no actual place or person of the King of Spain's,
nothing but property afloat, appropriate for reprisals. All England
knew the story of Ulua and approved of reprisals in accordance with the
spirit of the age. And the Queen had a special grievance about Ireland,
where the Spaniards were entrenched in Smerwick, thus adding to the
confusion of a rebellion that never quite died down at any time. Philip
explained that the Smerwick Spaniards were there as private volunteers.
Elizabeth answered that Drake was just the same. The English tide, at
all events, was turning in his favor. The indefatigable Stowe,
chronicler of London, records that 'the people generally applauded his
wonderful long adventures and rich prizes. His name and fame became
admirable in all places, the people swarming daily in the streets to
behold him, vowing hatred to all that misliked him.'
The _Golden Hind_ had been brought round to London, where she was the
greatest attraction of the day. Finally, on the 4th of April, 1581,
Elizabeth went on board in state, to a banquet 'finer than has ever
been seen in England since King Henry VIII,' said the furious Spanish
ambassador in his report to Philip. But this was not her chief offence
in Spanish eyes. For here, surrounded by her court, and in the presence
of an enormous multitude of her enthusiastic subjects, she openly
defied the King of Spain. 'He hath demanded Drake's head of me,' she
laughed aloud, 'and here I have a gilded sword to strike it off.' With
that she bade Drake kneel. Then, handing the sword to Marchaumont, the
special envoy of her French suitor, Francis of Anjou, she ordered him
to give the accolade. This done, she pronounced the formula of
immemorial fame: _I bid thee rise, Sir Francis Drake!_