streets with a wild cheer ringing in the silent air. Drake's
brother--with a certain John Oxenham and sixteen others--hurried
around behind the King's treasure-house, and entered the eastern side
of the market-place; while Drake, himself, marched up the main street
with bugles blowing, drums rolling, and balls of lighted tow blazing
from the end of long pikes carried by his stout retainers. The
townsfolk were terrified with the din and blaze of fire. "An army is
upon us," cried many. "We must flee for our lives."
In spite of this, a goodly number rallied at the market-place, where
there was a sharp fight. But nothing could withstand the onset of the
men from the fog-swept island, and soon the Spaniards fled, leaving
two behind who had been captured and held.
"You must show us the Governor's house," cried Drake. "All the
treasure is there."
The two captives obeyed unwillingly, and great was the disappointment
of the English when they found only bars of silver in the spacious
mansion.
"On! To the King's treasure-house!" again shouted the bold mariner.
"There, at least, must be gold and jewels."
In fact the English were furious with disappointment, for, as they
reached the Governor's mansion (strongly built of lime and stone for
the safe keeping of treasure) the eager pillagers rushed through the
wide-open doorway. A candle stood lighted upon the top of the stairs.
Before the threshold a horse stood champing his bit, as if recently
saddled for the Governor, himself, while, by the flickering gleam of
the taper, a huge glittering mass of silver bars was seen piled from
floor to ceiling. That was all,--no caskets of gold or precious stones
were to be seen.
"Stand to your weapons, men!" cried Drake. "The town is full of
people. Move carefully to the King's treasure-house which is near the
waterside. There are more gold and jewels in that spot than all our
pinnaces can carry."
As the soldiers hurried where he led, a negro called Diego, rushed
panting from the direction of the shore.
"Marse Drake! Marse Drake!" he wailed. "De boats am surrounded by de
Spanish. Dey will sholy be captured if you do not hurry back. Fo' de
Lohd's sake, Massa, come down to de sho'."
"My brother and John Oxenham will hasten to the shore," cried Drake.
"Meanwhile, my Hearties, come batter down the doorway to this noble
mansion. You are at the mouth of the greatest treasure-chest in the
world."
As the valiant captain spoke these words, he stepped forward to deal a
blow, himself, at the stout door which shut him from the glittering
riches. But suddenly he reeled and almost fell. Blood flowed in great
quantities upon the sand, from a wound in his leg which he had
received in the furious struggle within the market-place.
"Come, Captain," cried one of his retainers, seizing him in his arms.
"You must hasten to our pinnaces. What brooks this treasure to us when
we lose you, for, if you live we can secure gold and silver enough at
any time, but if you die we can find no more."
"I fear me that I am grievously hurt," sadly spake the Captain. "Give
me but a drink and then I think that I can reach our boats."
A soldier stooped and bound his scarf about the wounded leg of the now
weakened leader, and, bearing him aloft, the little band of
adventurers turned toward the ocean side. They soon embarked, with
many wounded besides the Captain, though none were slain save one
trumpeter.
Although the surgeons were kept busy in providing remedies and salves
for the hurts of the soldiers, their main care was for the bold
Francis Drake,--leader of this desperate expedition in quest of
treasure.
"If we lose you," cried a sailor, "we can scarce get home again. But
while we enjoy your presence and have you in command of us, we can
recover enough of wealth."
"Before we left the harbor we took, with little trouble, a ship of
wine for the greater comfort of our company," writes one of the stout
soldiers in this brave affair. "And though they shot at us from the
town we carried our prize to the Isle of Victuals. Here we cured our
wounded men and refreshed ourselves in the goodly gardens which we
found there abounding with great store of dainty roots and fruit.
There were also great plenty of poultry and other fowls, no less
strange and delicate."
Although unsuccessful--as you see--the brave mariners were not
daunted, and, after the wounded had recovered, a new expedition was
determined upon, with the purpose of capturing one of the trains of
mules which carried gold from Vera Cruz to Panama. Drake had been
joined by numerous Maroons--negroes who had escaped from the Spaniards
and had turned bandits--and these were quite willing and ready to aid
him in the pursuit of treasure. But before the English marauders moved
towards the interior, they attempted to attack Cartagena, the capital
of the Spanish Main.
Sailing into the harbor in front of this prosperous town, one evening,
they found that the townsfolk had been well warned of their coming;
they rang their bells and fired their cannon, while all of the
soldiers ranged themselves before the ramparts.
"Egad," cried Drake, with strange cheerfulness, in spite of his
disappointment. "They're far too ready to receive us. We've got to
withdraw."
So they prowled around the mouth of the harbor, captured two ships,
outward bound, and roared with laughter as they read a letter, written
to warn all nearby citizens of "that terrible marauder, pirate, and
butcher, Captain Drake."
"The Spaniards carry no treasure by land during the rainy months,"
said one of the natives. "You must wait for five full moons, if you
wish to catch a mule train."
"All right," said Captain Drake. "We'll fortify a place of
refuge--explore--and await the propitious moment when we can hope for
success."
Thus they tarried patiently until they heard from the Maroons (who
ranged the country up and down) that a large fleet had arrived from
Spain at Nombre de Dios. This was glad news. Drake smiled as he heard
it, and prepared immediately to make a land journey to Panama with
forty-eight followers, carrying provisions, arms, and many pairs of
shoes, because they were to cross several rivers of stone and gravel.
The way lay between great palm trees and through cool and pleasant
woods where the sturdy Englishmen were much encouraged when they heard
that there stood a great tree, not far from where they were, from
which one could see both the North Sea (Atlantic) from which they were
journeying, and the South Sea (Pacific) towards which they were going.
Finally--upon the fourth day--they came to a very steep hill, lying
east and west like a ridge, and, at this point, Pedro--chief of the
Maroons--took Drake by the hand, saying,
"Follow me, O Captain, and I will show you two seas at once, for you
are in the very centre of this country. Behold you stand in the heart
of this fertile land."
Looking before him, the lion-hearted adventurer saw a high tree in
which had been cut many steps, so that one could climb to the top.
Here was a convenient bower large enough for ten or twelve men to seat
themselves. Then--without further ado--he and the chief Maroon
clambered into the spreading branches and gazed across the nodding
palm tops into the dim distance. It was a fair day, and, as the
Maroons had felled certain trees so that the prospect might be more
clear, upon the delighted vision of the Englishman burst the vista of
the blue Atlantic and shimmering Pacific.
"I pray Almighty God in all his goodness," cried out the adventurous
Drake in loud tones of appreciation, "that I may have life and leave
to sail but once an English ship in this mighty ocean of the West!"
Then he called up the rest of the voyagers, and told them of his
prayer and purpose.
"I will follow you by God's grace!" cried John Oxenham, "unless you do
not wish my company."
Drake smiled good-humoredly, and, with a wave of his arm in the
direction of the glistening waters, descended to the ground.
"On, my hearties!" cried he, "and we'll soon bag a mule train with its
panniers filled with gold."
The men started forward, singing an old English ballad. As they walked
through the high pampas grass, they began to get glimpses of Panama
and the low-lying ships in the harbor. They kept silence and at length
hid themselves in a grove near the high road from Panama to Nombre de
Dios, while a negro was sent into the city as a spy.
In the afternoon the faithful henchman returned.
"A certain great man intends to go to Spain by the first ship," he
said. "He is travelling towards Nombre de Dios this very night with
his daughter and his family. He has fourteen mules, eight of which are
laden with gold and one with jewelry. Two other trains of fifty mules
each--burdened with food and little silver--will also come up this
night."
The English smiled, and, without more ado, marched to within two miles
of Vera Cruz, where half of them lay down upon one side of the road,
and half upon the other. They were screened by the tall grass; so
well, indeed, that no eye could see them, and in an hour's time, to
their eager ears came the sound of mule trains passing to and fro near
Vera Cruz, where trade was lively because of the presence of the
Spanish fleet. All was propitious for a successful attack.
But misfortune seemed always to follow the bold and adventurous
Drake. As mischance would have it, one of his men called Robert Pike,
who had "drunk too much brandy without water," was lying close to the
roadway by the side of a grinning Maroon, and, when a well-mounted
cavalier from Vera Cruz rode by--with his page running at his
stirrup--he rose up to peer at him, even though his companion pulled
him down in the endeavor to hide his burly form.
"Sacre Nom de Dieu," cried the traveller. "It is a white man! An
Englishman!" and, putting spurs to his horse, he rode away at a
furious gallop in order to warn others of the highwayman's position.
The ground was hard and the night was still. As Captain Drake heard
the gentleman's trot change into a gallop, he uttered a round British
oath.
"Discovered," he muttered, "but by whose fault I know not. We'll await
the other trains and mayhap we'll have some booty yet."
The gentleman, in fact, warned the Treasurer, who, fearing that
Captain Drake had wandered to this hidden thicket, turned his train of
mules aside and let the others--who were behind him--pass on. Thus, by
recklessness of one of the company, a rich booty was lost, but--as an
Englishman has well said, "We thought that God would not let it be
taken, for likely it was well gotten by that Treasurer."
There was no use repining, for soon a tinkling of bells and tread of
hoofs came to the eager ears of the adventurers, and, through the long
pampas grass ambled the other two mule trains--their drivers snapping
the whips with little thought of the lurking danger. In a moment they
were between the English and hidden Maroons, who--with a wild
cheer--dashed upon them, surrounded them, and easily held them in
their power. Two horse loads of silver was the prize for all this
trouble and hard travel.
"I never grieve over things past," cried Drake. "We must now march
home by the shortest route. It is certainly provoking that we lost the
mule train of gold, particularly as we were betrayed by one of our own
men. Come, soldiers, turn about and retreat to our good ships."
Half satisfied but cheerful, the soldiers and Maroons turned towards
the coast, and, as they neared Vera Cruz, the infantrymen of the town
swarmed outside to attack the hated men of Merrie England, with cries
of, "Surrender! Surrender!"
Drake looked at them scornfully, replying,
"An Englishman never surrenders!"
At this a volley rang out and one of the intrepid adventurers was "so
powdered with hail-shot that he could not recover his life, although
he continued all that day with Drake's men." But stout Francis blew
his whistle--the signal for attack--and, with a wild cry, the Maroons
and English rushed for the black-haired and sallow-skinned defenders
of the town. "Yo Peho! Yo Peho!" wailed the half-crazed natives as
they leaped high in the air, and encouraged by the presence of the
English, they broke through the thickets at the town's end and forced
the enemy to fly, while the now terrified Spanish scurried pell mell
down the coast. Several of Drake's followers were wounded, and one
Maroon was run through with a pike, but his courage was so great that
he revenged his own death ere he died, by slaying a Spaniard who
opposed him.
At sunrise the land pirates continued their journey, carrying some
plunder from Vera Cruz. Some of the men fainted with weakness, but two
Maroons would carry them along until they could again walk, and
thus--struggling, cursing and singing--the party of weary and
disappointed marauders neared the place where they had left their
ship. A messenger was sent forward with a golden toothpick to those
left behind upon the vessel and a request that the ship be brought
into the narrow channel of a certain river. It was done, and when at
last the weary plunderers reached the shore, they gave a mighty cheer
as they saw the white, bellying sails of their staunch, English
vessel. Their journey for pelf and jewels had been a failure.
This did not discourage the lion-hearted Drake, who declared, with a
smile, "We'll yet catch a mule train, boys, and one in which the
panniers are filled with sufficient gold to sink our good ship. Keep
your hearts bright and I'll gain you enough of treasure to house you
in peace and comfort in your old age. Remember--'Fortune favors the
brave!'" He had spoken with truth.
Not long afterwards a French captain appeared, whose men were only too
eager for a little journey ashore after golden mule trains and battle.
So a party was made up of twenty Frenchmen, fifteen Englishmen, and
some Maroons, who sailed with a frigate and two pinnaces, towards a
river called Rio Francisco--to the west of Nombre de Dios. They
landed, struck inland, and were soon near the high road from Panama to
Nombre de Dios, where mule trains passed daily--some with food and
merchandise--a few with golden ingots and bars of silver.
In silence they marched along and spent the night about a mile from
the road, where they could plainly hear the carpenters working on
their ships--which they did at night because of the fierce, torrid sun
during the day. Next morning--the first of April, but not an April
Fool's day by any means--they heard such a number of bells that the
Maroons began to chuckle and say, "You will have much gold. Yo Peho!
Yo Peho! This time we will all be rich!"
Suddenly three mule trains came to view, one of fifty long-eared
beasts of burden; two of seventy each, with every animal carrying
three hundred pounds weight of silver, amounting to nearly thirty
tons. The sight seemed almost too good to be true. With a wild shout
the ambuscaders leaped from their hiding places to rush frantically
upon the startled drivers. In a few moments the train was in
possession of Drake and his French and half-negro associates, who
chuckled and grunted like peccaries.
The leading mules were taken by the heads and all the rest lay down,
as they always do when stopped. The fifteen soldiers who guarded each
train were routed, but not before they had wounded the French captain
most severely and had slain one of the Maroons. Silver bars and gold
ingots were there aplenty. They were seized and carried off, while,
what was not transported, was buried in the earthen burrows made by
the great land crabs under fallen trees, and in the sand and gravel of
a shallow river.
"And now for home," cried a valorous sea farer, after a party had
returned with a portion of the buried treasure, which was divided
equally between the French and the English. Much of that left in the
sand crab holes had been discovered by the Spaniards--but not all.
Thirteen bars of silver and a few quoits of gold had rewarded the
search of the expectant voyageurs.
"Yes," cried all. "Sails aloft for Merrie England!" So, spreading
canvas, the bold adventurers were soon headed for the foggy and misty
isle from which they had come. On Sunday, August ninth, 1573--just
about sermon time--they dropped anchor in the peaceful harbor of
Plymouth.
"And the news of the Captain's return brought unto his people, did so
speedily pass over all the church, and fill the minds of the
congregation with delight and desire to see him, that very few, or
none, remained with the preacher. All hastened to see the evidence of
God's love and blessing towards the gracious Queen and country, by the
fruit of the gallant mariner's labor and success."
"To God alone," spake an humble citizen of Plymouth, "be the Glory."
[Illustration: DRAKE'S GREATEST VICTORY ON THE SPANISH MAIN.
(The surrender of Don Anton to Sir Francis Drake, March 1, 1579.)]
And all echoed these pious sentiments, in spite of the fact that
Drake was a robber, a pirate, and a buccaneer. But was he not their
own countryman?
* * * * *
The scene now changes. It is a gray day at Plymouth and anxious faces
peer into the street from the windows of the low, tiled houses. A
crowd has collected upon the jutting cliffs and all gaze with eager
eyes towards the ocean. Men speak in hushed and subdued voices, for
there is trouble in the air.
Among the knots of keen-eyed English there is one small party which
seems to be as joyous as a lot of school-boys. Five men are playing at
bowls, and one of them is stout, and well knit, and swarthy visaged
with long exposure to the elements. He is laughing uproariously, when
a lean fellow comes running from the very edge of those beetling
cliffs which jut far out into the gray, green Atlantic.
"Hark'ee, Captain Drake!" he cries. "Ships are in the offing, and many
of them too! It must be the fleet of Philip of Spain come to ravage
our beauteous country!"
"Ah, indeed," answers the staunch-figured captain, without looking up.
"Then let me have one last shot, I pray thee, before I go to meet
them."
And so saying, he calmly tosses another ball upon the greensward,
knocks aside the wooden pins, then smiling, turns and strides towards
the waterside.
Thus Drake--the lion-hearted--goes out to battle with the great Armada
of Philip of Spain, with a smile upon his lips, and full confidence in
his ability to defeat the Spaniards at home as well as on the Spanish
Main. Let us see how he fared?
Smarting with keen anger at Drake and his successful attacks upon his
western possessions, Philip--the powerful monarch of Spain--determined
to gather a great fleet together and to invade England with a mighty
army.
"That rascally pirate has beaten me at Cadiz, at Cartagena, and at
Lisbon," the irate king had roared, with no show of composure. "Now I
will sail against him and crush this buccaneer, so that he and his
kind can never rise again."
A mighty fleet of heavy ships--the Armada--was not ready to sail until
July, 1588, and the months before this had been well spent by the
English in preparation for defense, for they knew of the full
intention of their southern enemy. Shipwrights worked day and night.
The clamoring dockyards hummed with excitement, while Good Queen Bess
and her Ministers of State wrote defiant letters to the missives from
the Spanish crown. The cold blood of the English--always quite
lukewarm in their misty, moisty isle--had begun to boil with vigor.
The Britons would fight valiantly.
As the lumbering galleons neared the English coast, a heavy mist which
hid them, blew away, and the men of England saw the glimmering water
fairly black with the wooden vultures of old Spain. The Spaniards had
come ready to fight in the way in which they had won many a brilliant
victory; with a horde of towering hulks, of double-deckers and
store-ships manned by slaves and yellow-skinned retainers, who
despised big guns and loved a close encounter with hand thrusts and
push of pike. Like a huge, wooden octopus this arrogant fleet of
Arragon moved its tentacles around the saucy, new-made pinnaces of the
tight little isle.
"The boats of the English were very nimble and of good steerage,"
writes a Spaniard, "so that the English did with them as they desired.
And our ships being very heavy compared with the lightness of those of
the enemy, it was impossible to come to hand-stroke with them."
This tells the whole story. With a light wind astern--the war ships of
the English bore down easily upon the heavy-bottomed Spanish galleons
and fired their guns at the hulls of the enemy.
"Don't waste your balls upon the rigging," cried Drake through a
trumpet. "Sight low and sink 'em if you can. But keep away from the
grappling hooks so's not to let 'em get hold of you. If they once
do--you're lost!"
Now was the sound of splitting of boards, as the solid shot pumped
great holes in the sides of the high rocking galleons. Dense clouds of
vapor hung over the struggling combatants--partly from a sea fog which
the July sun had not thoroughly burned away, and partly from the
spitting mouths of the cannon. Fire burst from the decks, the roar of
the guns was intermingled with the shrill wails of the slaves, the
guttural cries of the seamen, the screams of the wounded and the
derisive howls of those maddened by battle. The decks were crimson
with blood; sails split and tore as the chain-shot hummed through the
rigging, and the sharp twang of the arquebusques was mingled with the
crash of long-barrelled muskets.
No men can fight like those who are defending their own homes. At
Gettysburg, the Army of the Potomac--twice beaten in an attack upon
the South in the enemy's country--struggled as it had never done
before,--and won. It had nowhere battled as when the foe was pushing
it back upon its own soil and cities.
So here--no fighters ever bled as did the English when the greedy
hands of Spain were clutching at their shores. The light ships hung
near the Spaniards at a distance and did not board until spars were
down and the great rakish hulls were part helpless. Then--with a wild
cheer--the little galleons--often two at a time--would grapple with
the enemy and board--cutlasses swinging, pistols spitting, and
hand-spikes hewing a way through the struggling, yellow-faced ruffians
of Philip of Arragon.
While the awful battle raged, fire ships were prepared on shore and
sent down upon the Spanish fleet, burning fiercely and painting the
skyline with red. Some of the large vessels had anchored, and, as
these terrors approached, they slipped their cables in order to
escape. Confusion beset the ranks of the boastful foe and cheered on
the British bull-dogs to renewed exertions.
At six in the evening a mighty cry welled from the British boats.
"They fly! They fly!" sounded above the ruck and roar of battle.
Yes--it was the truth. Beaten and dismayed, the Spanish fleet bore
away to the North, while the English--in spite of the fact that their
powder was wet, and nearly all spent--"gave them chase as if they
lacked nothing, until they had cleared their own coast and some part
of Scotland of them." The Armada--split, part helpless--drifted away
from Plymouth, and wild cheers of joy came from the deck of the vessel
which carried bold Sir Francis Drake. The great battle had been won.
So crippled were many of the Spanish hulks that they were wrecked in
stormy weather, off the coast of Scotland and Ireland. Not half of
those who put to sea ever reached Spain again. Many sailors were
drowned, or perished miserably by the hands of the natives of the
coast, and some who escaped were put to death by the Queen's orders.
Fever and sickness broke out in the English ships and the followers of
bold Drake died by hundreds, "sickening one day and perishing the
next."
The English vessels, themselves, were in a bad way--they had to be
disinfected and the men put ashore--where the report of the many
wrecks and the massacre of Spanish soldiers, eased the anxiety of the
once terrified inhabitants of the tight little isle, and made it
certain that the Armada would never return. Drake and his bold seamen
had saved the people of Merrie England. Again hats off to this pirate
of the Spanish Main!