hero of the defense of England--one would think that Drake would have
remained peacefully at home to die "with his boots on." But not so.
The spirit of adventure called to him with irresistible force, and
again he set out for the Spanish Main. He had sailed around the world
before his grapple with the Armada; he had harassed the Spaniard in an
expedition to Lisbon; he was the idol of the English. He had done
enough--you say. Yes, he had done enough--but--like all men who love
the game of life he wished to have just one more expedition in search
of gold and adventure, for--by nature he was a gambler, and he was
throwing the dice with Fate.
So a goodly crew sailed with him again, hoping for another raid upon
mule trains and cities of treasure. But alas! There was to be a
different story from the others. All the towns and hamlets of the
Spanish Main had been warned to "be careful and look well to
themselves, for that Drake and Hawkins were making ready in England to
come upon them." And when the English arrived they found stout defense
and valiant men, nor was a sail seen "worth giving chase unto."
Hawkins died, many grew ill of fever, and finally Drake, himself,
succumbed to the malarial atmosphere of Panama. He was to remain where
gold and adventure had first lured him.
On January the twenty-eighth, 1596, the great captain yielded up his
spirit "like a Christian, quietly in his cabin." And a league from the
shore of Porto Rico, the mighty rover of the seas was placed in a
weighted hammock and tossed into the sobbing ocean. The spume frothed
above the eddying current, sucked downward by the emaciated form of
the famous mariner, and a solitary gull shrieked cruelly above the
bubbles, below which--upon beads of coral and clean sand--rested the
body of Sir Francis Drake, rover, rogue, and rattling sea ranger. It
was his last journey.
"Weep for this soul, who, in fathoms of azure,
Lies where the wild tarpon breaks through the foam,
Where the sea otter mews to its brood in the ripples,
As the pelican wings near the palm-forest gloom.
Ghosts of the buccaneers flit through the branches,
Dusky and dim in the shadows of eve,
While shrill screams the parrot,--the lord of Potanches,
'Drake, Captain Drake, you've had your last leave.'"
SEA IRONY
One day I saw a ship upon the sands
Careened upon beam ends, her tilted deck
Swept clear of rubbish of her long-past wreck;
Her colors struck, but not by human hands;
Her masts the driftwood of what distant strands!
Her frowning ports, where, at the Admiral's beck,
Grim-visaged cannon held the foe in check,
Gaped for the frolic of the minnow bands.
The seaweed banners in her fo'ks'le waved,
A turtle basked upon her capstan head;
Her cabin's pomp the clownish sculpin braved,
And, on her prow, where the lost figure-head
Once turned the brine, a name forgot was graved,
It was "The Irresistible" I read.
--HEATON.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH
PERSECUTOR OF THE SPANIARDS
(1552-1618)
"All great men have lived by hope."--JAMES FREEMAN
CLARKE.
[Illustration: YOUNG RALEIGH AND A COMPANION LISTENING TO TALES OF
THE SPANISH MAIN.]
SIR WALTER RALEIGH
PERSECUTOR OF THE SPANIARDS
(1552-1618)
"When the sobbing sea is squally,
Then,--look out for Walter Raleigh!
He's the fellow whom Queen Bess is said to love.
He's a reckless, handsome sailor,
With a 'Vandyke' like a tailor,
He can coo fond words of loving like a dove.
Faith! I like this gallant rover,
Who has ploughed the wild seas over,
Who has passed the grim and wild equator's ring.
And I cheer, whene'er I view him,
For--my Boy--off Spain I knew him
When he trimmed the Spanish cruisers, like a King."
--_Chant of the Plymouth Dock-Hand._
Boys! You have all heard about the _Square Deal_. Well--Here is the
story of a man who didn't get one.
Walter Raleigh was a brave man; he was an able seafarer; his younger
manhood was spent in the midst of the most brilliant Royal Court which
England has known. He proved his courage and military prowess in more
than one bitterly contested battle-field and naval conflict. His love
of his own land and his hatred of his enemies was ardent.
He was also a fellow of wit, and, as an author, took rank with the
great literary lights of the Elizabethan Age. He was an adventurer,
and, in middle life, as well as in old age, braved the great deep and
perils of savage lands in the magnificent attempt to make discoveries
and to settle English colonies in the New World. Chivalrous in actions
and feeling; of handsome person; graceful manners and courtly address;
it is no wonder that he had a host of enemies: those fellows who
couldn't do anything worth while themselves, and wanted to "pull the
other fellow down." There are plenty of them around, to-day, doing the
same thing in the same, old way.
As an Englishman he loved England to such an extent, that--upon the
return from one of his numerous voyages--he dropped upon one knee and
kissed the sand.
"My men," said he to his followers, "I love this land as nothing else
on earth!"
The hostility of his rivals subjected him to harsh ill treatment. It
did not dampen his love for England.
The silly caprices of Queen Elizabeth, who--like most women--was
swayed, not by her reason, but by her sentiments, made him suffer
imprisonment. Yet, it did not dampen his love for England.
The terrible and bitter dislike of King James--who succeeded the
Virgin Queen--finally led to his trial for treason; his execution; and
his death.
Yet, it did not dampen his love for England.
If England can produce men of such a mold, nowadays, she will continue
to be a mighty world power.
Do you think that _you_ could be as patriotic as Sir Walter Raleigh?
Particularly if _you_ were treated as _he_ was treated? Think it over!
* * * * *
One day, the ancient palace of Greenwich, which stood on the banks of
the Thames--a few miles below London--presented a lively and brilliant
scene. Courtiers, arrayed in gorgeous colors and glittering ornaments,
walked about, chattering gaily,--like a flock of sparrows. Fine, young
cavaliers were there, attired in rich velvets, sparkling with gems,
armed with gold-hilted swords. Grave statesmen wandered around,--with
beards as white as their ruffles. Stately dames, with heavy and gaily
trimmed trains, peered at the beautiful belles, and said:
"My, isn't she a fright!" or
"Goodness, what _dreadful_ manners the Duchess so-and-so has!"
Just as they do to-day. Times do not change.
Trumpets blared a fan-fa-rade and lines of soldiers gave forth
inspiriting sounds, with many musical instruments. There was a stir
and flutter in the crowd; and some one called out:
"She's coming! Hats off to the Queen!"
So all the men took off their hats,--for they were courtiers, and it
was their business to do so, whenever Her Royal Highness came around.
Many of them didn't like to do it but if they hadn't done so, some spy
would have cried out "Treason!" And they would have been hustled off
to the Tower. You _just bet_ they took off their hats!
Descending the broad flight of steps, with proud and majestic mien,
the tall and slender figure of Elizabeth--the maiden Queen of
England--was seen approaching.
She was then in the mature ripeness of middle age, but she still
preserved not a few remnants of the beauty of her youth. Her form was
straight and well proportioned. Her large, blue eyes were yet bright
and expressive; her complexion was still wonderfully fair and smooth.
Her well arranged hair was luxuriant and was of a light red. A large,
fan-like collar of richest lace rose from her slender neck, above her
head behind; and her tresses were combed high from her forehead.
Jewels blazed from her dress. Her attire was far more splendid than
that of any of the ladies of her court.
As it happened, a heavy shower had just passed over, and little
puddles of water stood all around upon the gravelled paths. Bursting
through the fast-vanishing clouds, the sun cast its rays upon the
trees still dripping with glittering drops; and upon the smiling
Queen, who--surrounded by a gay group of courtiers--set forth upon a
promenade through the park. She chatted affably with all. They tried
to make themselves as agreeable as possible, for he who was most
agreeable received the best plums from the Royal Tree. Politics
haven't changed any since that day.
The Queen walked on, playing with a beautiful, white greyhound, and,
pretty soon she came to a muddy spot in the path.
"Zounds!" said she (or it may have been something stronger, for
historians say that she could "swear valiantly"). "Zounds! Now I will
spoil my pretty shoes!"
"And also your pretty feet," interjected a courtier. He received a
smile for this compliment and the Queen mentally made a note of
it,--for future use in the distribution of Court Favors.
She hesitated, looked around aimlessly, and stood still.
At this instant a young noble--six feet tall and elegantly
attired--stepped forward; and, throwing aside his richly embroidered
cloak, spread it over the muddy pool.
"Prithee, pass onward!" said he, bowing low.
Elizabeth was delighted.
"Good Walter Raleigh," said she, smiling. "You are truly a gallant
knight!" And she tripped gaily across the embroidered mantlet. "I will
reward you right well for this!"
But the courtiers, the Ladies, and the Statesmen glanced with
undisguised envy at the young gallant who had so readily pleased their
Mistress; and they scowled at him as Elizabeth kept him at her side
during the rest of her promenade. "The Beggar's outdone us all!" said
one. "Down with him!"
But they could not down Sir Walter just then. After awhile they had
"their innings."
Rough, vain, whimsical Queen Bess was fond of handsome, and especially
of witty and eloquent young men. She grew more attached to Sir Walter
Raleigh every day. He rapidly rose in power and influence, and, as a
poet, became well known. His verses were read in the luxurious halls
of the palace with exclamations of delight, while the tales of his
military exploits were eagerly repeated from mouth to mouth; for
Raleigh had fought valiantly in France and had helped to suppress an
insurrection in Ireland.
And still the jealous courtiers murmured among themselves.
Raleigh was appointed "Warden of the Stanneries," or mines, in
Cornwall and Devonshire, from which he derived, each year, a large
income. He was made Captain of the Queen's Guard. He was created Lord
Lieutenant of Cornwall and Vice-Admiral of Devon. He received vast
estates in Ireland and many privileges and licenses, so that he was
fast becoming a rich man. He was splendid and extravagant in his
dress. He grew arrogant. He had, in fact, "too much Ego in his
Cosmos."
So, the jealous courtiers continued to murmur among themselves.
Elizabeth was fickle as well as sentimental. Her fancy passed lightly
from one gallant to another. For some time Leicester (who had once
been her sole favorite, and who desired to regain his position) had
been growing jealous of Raleigh's ascendency; and he had been
delighted to see that Queen Bess had taken a violent fancy to the
impetuous Earl of Essex. A quarrel took place between Raleigh and the
Ruler of England. He was affronted before the whole court and retired
to his chambers, overwhelmed with grief.
[Illustration: SIR WALTER RALEIGH.]
And all the jealous courtiers punched each other beneath the ribs,
and laughed "Ha! Ha! Ha! What did we tell you?"
It took the "Ego" out of Raleigh's "Cosmos."
But the gallant courtier had a half-brother--Sir Humphrey Gilbert--who
had just returned from a voyage around the world in the good ship
_Golden Hind_.
"Let's fit out a small fleet," said he to Raleigh, "and establish an
English colony in Newfoundland."
"I'm with you," cried Sir Walter. "We'll found another England in far
distant America! On with it!"
Thus, an expedition of five ships sailed from Plymouth, in the early
summer of 1583. Sir Humphrey boarded the _Squirrel_, and bade his
kinsman an affectionate adieu.
"You must remain behind," said he, "and regain our position at court!"
"That I will endeavor to do," answered Raleigh. "Good luck and God
speed."
The expedition was a failure from the start. Scarcely had the shallops
gone to sea, than one of them--the _Raleigh_--deserted its companions
and put back. The rest reached Newfoundland, but the men were lawless
and insubordinate.
"This is the Deuce of a cold place for a colony," they said. "Home to
Merrie England!"
Gilbert was forced to yield to their angry demands, and re-embarked.
"Don't sail in that rattle-trap of a _Squirrel_," said his officers to
him. "She'll founder!"
But Sir Humphrey had that obstinacy which characterized General
Braddock.
"No: I will not forsake the little company, going homeward," said he.
"I'll stick to my ship."
He stuck--and--when they hailed him one stormy night, he said:
"Be of good cheer, my friends: we are as near to Heaven by sea as by
land!"
That night the _Squirrel_ was sailing a little in advance of the other
ships, and, as those on board the _Golden Hind_ watched the frail
barque, they saw her lurch, heave, and then sink from view. Thus the
soul of brave Raleigh's kinsman found a watery grave. He had paid for
his obstinacy with his life.
Raleigh was overwhelmed with grief when he learned of the death of his
heroic half-brother.
"I'll yet found my Colony," said he. "And I'll go myself."
This pleased the jealous courtiers more than ever, for they would now
have him out of the way for all time.
With his ample wealth, the indefatigable adventurer found no
difficulty in fitting out an expedition, and, in the year after the
death of Sir Humphrey Gilbert, he sent forth two vessels to explore
the coast of the Carolinas.
"I'm going to stay at home and face my enemies!" said the gay blade.
"Again good luck and God Speed!"
They had a fortunate voyage, and, when they returned, the Captains
told of the beautiful harbors, fine rivers, magnificent forests and
abundance of game. The Queen was delighted, and at once named the
fair country for herself, with characteristic egotism. That men might
know that this fruitful land was explored in the time of the Virgin
Queen, it was called "Virginia." Raleigh was wild with delight.
And the jealous courtiers looked dejected and sad.
A fleet of seven vessels--with one hundred colonists--was now sent to
Virginia, under the command of one Grenville, who was eager to become
suddenly rich: a disease as common now as in those venturous days. No
sooner had the people landed, than they began to treat the savages
with such harshness and rapacity--that they had to gain their own
food, as the natives would have nothing to do with them. Dissensions
tore the little community into shreds. So they were only too glad to
return with the gallant old sea-dog, Sir Francis Drake, when he
happened that way, with a large amount of booty which he had just
taken from the Spaniards in the southern seas.
Another expedition was sent over by Raleigh; and yet another. They
were failures. But there was one, single thing which was not a
failure. This was the discovery of a herb called "Yppowoc," or
tobacco, the leaves of which--when dried--were smoked by the natives
in long pipes.
Curious Sir Walter had a jeweller in London make him a silver pipe,
after the fashion of those used by the native Virginians. In this he
began to smoke the tobacco, and soon grew to like it very much; so
much, indeed, that he was scarcely ever without this comforter, when
enjoying the quiet of his home.
One day he was sitting cosily by his fire with his Long Nine in his
mouth, and the smoke was curling gracefully over his head. Just as he
was puffing out a particularly thick cloud, one of his servants
happened to enter the room with a tankard of ale, for the luncheon
table.
"Ye Gods!" cried he. "My Master's on fire!"
_Swash!!_
Over Sir Walter's head went the ale, and the frightened lackey dashed
down the steps.
"H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p!" cried he. "My Master is burning up! H-e-l-p!"
But Sir Walter did not burn up this time. Instead he near split his
gallant sides with laughing.
Now, Boys, don't smile! 'Tis said that good old Queen Bess tried,
herself, to smoke a Long Nine. But--hush--"she became so dizzy and ill
from the effects that she never ventured upon the experiment again!"
(Keep this quiet! Very quiet! Will you!)
On one occasion she was watching Sir Walter blowing circles of smoke
over his head, and said to him--
"Zounds! (or something stronger) Sir Walter! You are a witty man; but
I will wager that you cannot tell me the weight of the smoke which
comes from your pipe!"
"I can, indeed," was the confident reply of the gallant courtier.
"Watch me closely!"
At once he took as much tobacco as would fill his pipe and exactly
weighed it. Having then smoked it up, he--in like manner--weighed the
ashes.
"Now, Your Majesty," said he, smiling. "The difference between these
two weights is the weight of the smoke."
And again Queen Bess remarked "Zounds!" (or Eftsoons!). At any rate,
she paid the wager, for--with all her frailties--she was a Good Loser.
Raleigh, in fact, shortly became reinstated in Royal favor, and, when
he aided Drake and Hawkins--soon afterwards--in dispersing the
Invincible Armada, he was again in the good graces of his sovereign.
There was, however, a pretty, young Maid-of-Honor at court, called
Elizabeth Throgmorton, and no sooner had the bright eyes of Sir Walter
fallen upon her, than he fell in love. In paying court to this amiable
lady he was compelled to use great caution and secrecy, for jealous
Queen Bess watched him narrowly, and with suspicion. In spite of her
preference for Essex, Elizabeth was quite unwilling that Raleigh--her
less favored lover--should transfer his affections to another. So, in
making love to Elizabeth Throgmorton, the gay courtier was compelled
to use the utmost care.
But Murder (or Love) will out!
It chanced one day, that the Queen discovered what was going on
between her Maid-of-Honor and the cavalier. Her rage knew no bounds.
She berated Raleigh before her ladies, and forbade him to come to
court. She fiercely commanded the Maid-of-Honor to remain a prisoner
in her room, and, on no account to see Raleigh again. So the venturous
Knight turned his attention once more to wild roving upon the sea.
Now the jealous courtiers fairly chuckled with glee. "Ha! Ha! Ha!"
laughed they. "Ho! Ho! Ho! He! He! He!"
But Sir Walter engaged very actively in fitting out some squadrons to
attack the Spanish ships.
"Egad! I hate a Spaniard!" he said. "They are my country's special
enemies and I intend to do them all the harm that I can!"
The Queen was glad enough to separate him from his lady love and not
only consented to his project, but promised to aid him in it. Ere long
fifteen vessels were anchored in the Thames--all ready to sail--but,
before he set out, the gallant commander made up his mind that he
would marry his beloved Maid-of-Honor. It was not difficult to find a
clergyman who would splice him tighter than he ever spliced a rope
aboard ship. The deed was done. He set sail. All was going
propitiously.
"I'll attack the Spanish ships in the harbor of Seville," said
Raleigh. "Then--off to the Spanish Main and sack the town of Panama."
He laughed,--but what was that?
Rapidly approaching from the coast of England came a swift pinnace. It
gained upon the squadron in spite of the fact that all sail was
hoisted, and, at last came near enough to give Raleigh a signal to
"Heave to." In a few moments her commander climbed aboard.
"The Queen has changed her mind about your expedition," said he. "She
has sent me--Sir Martin Frobisher--to tell you to come home."
Raleigh said things which made the air as blue as the sea, but he put
back--for he could not disobey the Royal command. He was soon at
court.
The Queen was furious with anger.
"You have disobeyed my commands," said she. "I find you have secretly
married my Maid-of-Honor. To the Tower with you! To the dungeons of
the Tower!"
And all the jealous courtiers were so happy that they danced a can-can
in the ante chamber.
What do you think of this? Thrown into prison because he loved a Maid
and married her! Nowadays "all the World loves a Lover." In those
times all the world _might_ have "loved a Lover" except Queen
Bess,--and a number of courtiers hanging around within easy call:
_They_ kicked a Lover. And then they all got together and said:
"Fine! Fine! Now we've got him where he ought to be. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho!
Ho! Ho!"
But women relent; that is one of their chief characteristics. Queen
Bess softened, grew lukewarm, finally became molten.
"Sir Walter Raleigh can go free," said she.
The gallant courtier returned to his country estate, where--with his
wife and children he enjoyed the luxuries and comforts of country
life. And the jealous courtiers began to look strangely sober.
Still the sea called. The sea sang its old song, and, fired with the
spirit of adventure, Sir Walter decided upon another expedition: this
time to the coast of Guiana, in South America, where, it was said,
"billets of gold lay about in heaps, as if they were logs of wood
marked out to burn." With a large fleet at his command he soon started
upon this expedition for plunder and for fame. This time no Sir Martin
Frobisher sailed after him to bring him back to a dungeon in the Tower
and he was able to reach his destination.
The expedition was a howling success. Whenever and wherever Sir Walter
could inflict injury on the Spaniards, whom he so bitterly detested,
he did so with eagerness. A Spanish ship was soon seen, chased,
and--after a brief, hot fight--surrendered and was boarded.
"Egad!" cried Raleigh. "Here's luck, for the cargo's of fire arms.
I'll stow them away in my own vessel and let the captive go!"
Proceeding on his voyage, he not long afterwards encountered and
captured another prize; a Flemish ship sailing homeward with a cargo
of fine wine. Twenty hogsheads were transferred to the hold of
Raleigh's ship and the captured craft was allowed to sail on,--empty.
Things continued to go well. The Island of Trinidad (off Venezuela)
was reached at last. The natives were friendly and told of vast
deposits of gold far up the river Orinoco. "But would Raleigh not
please besiege the Spanish town of St. Joseph?" said they, "and rescue
some of their chiefs whom the Spaniards held prisoners--in chains."
"I always strike a Spaniard when I can," said Raleigh. "On, men, we'll
sack this proud city!"
St. Joseph speedily fell into his hands. The chiefs were released.
They were so gratified, that they paddled him far up the river, where
they found glittering gold, which they tore out of rocks with their
daggers. The Englishmen were delighted, and, collecting a mass of
nuggets to show to those at home, they put back to the ships, set
sail, and were soon in England again.
The people were astonished at this exploit, but the jealous courtiers
did all they could to deprive Raleigh of the renown which was justly
his due.
"What this fellow has told is a lie," whispered they into the ears of
good Queen Bess. "There is no such place as Guiana. Raleigh has been
down upon the coast of Spain and hidden himself. He has not crossed
the Atlantic at all."
Which proves that no one can ever do anything adventurous without
stirring up the hammers of the Envious: the Little Men. Is it not so
to-day? Look around! You can hear the carping critic at any time that
you may wish! _Do_ something _big_, sometime. Then put your ear to the
ground and listen!
But the sea called for the fifth time. A vast English fleet was hurled
against the Spanish at Cadiz,--a great English fleet, accompanied by
an army. England was bound to get even with the Spaniards for daring
to launch the supposedly invincible Armada against them--and Sir
Walter eagerly sailed for the coast of Spain.
The harbor of Cadiz was seen to be fairly jammed full of stately
galleons and men-of-war. Arranged in compact rows, close to shore,
just below the towering and frowning castle of Cadiz; they were
protected, on either side, by fortresses, whence heavy guns peeped
forth to defend them. There were nearly sixty large vessels in all,
four of which were galleons, and twenty of which were galleys:
well-manned and well-armed with small cannon. There were many more
ships than in the attacking fleet.