and all of them his own.
“Very good, Father,” spoke the curly-haired youngster. “I’ll mind what you tell me. You’re wrong, though, when you say that I cannot swim, for I can, even to yonder shore. Do you want to see me do it?”
“Nay, nay,” chuckled the stout seaman. “You’re a boy of courage, Francis. That I can well see. But do not try the water. It is cold and you will have a cramp and go under. Stick to the quarter-deck.” And laughing softly to himself, he went below, where a strong smell of cooking showed that there was something upon the galley stove to feed his hungry crew of youthful Englishmen.
It was surely a strange house to bring up a troop of merry children in. The sound of wind and waves was familiar to them at night and they grew to be strong and fearless. But is not this the proper way to rear a sea-dog?
These little ducklings, descended from a Drake, must have early set their hearts upon adventure and a seafaring life. In fact, one of them, young Francis, was to be one of the best known seamen of the centuries and knighted for his services to the Crown. Reared in a ship, he, by nature, loved the sea as only a child of the ocean could have done. The brine ran in his blood.
Being the son of a poor man, he was apprenticed to a master of a small vessel which used to coast along the shore and carry merchandise to France and the Netherlands. He learned his business well. So well, indeed, that at the death of the master of the vessel it was bequeathed “to Francis Drake, because he was diligent and painstaking and pleased the old man, his master, by his industry.” But the gallant, young sea-dog grew weary of the tiny barque.
“It only creeps along the shore,” he said. “I want to get out upon the ocean and see the world. I will therefore enlist with my stout kinsmen, the Hawkins brothers, rich merchants both, who build and sail their own ships.”
This he did, and thus began the roving life of Francis Drake: dare-devil and scourge of the West Indian waters.
About fifty years before this lusty mariner had been born, America was discovered by Christopher Columbus—an Italian sailor in the service of Spain—and this powerful country had seized a great part of the new found land. There was no love lost between the Spaniards and the men from the cold, northern British Isles and thus Francis Drake spent his entire career battling with the black-haired, rapacious, and avaricious adventurers who flew the banner of King Philip of Arragon. Sometimes he was defeated, more often he was successful. Hark, then, to the tale of his many desperate encounters upon the wide waters of the surging Atlantic.
Drake had said, “I’m going to sea with the Hawkins and view the world,” and, as John Hawkins was just about to sail for the West Indies in six ships, the youthful and eager mariner was given an opportunity to command a vessel called the Judith. The fleet at first had good success. Slaves were captured upon the African coast and were sold in the West Indies, though with difficulty, because the Spaniards had been forbidden by their king to trade with the English. Laden with treasure and spices, the ships were about to start for home, when fearful storms beset them. Their beams were badly shattered.
“We must seek a haven,” cried Hawkins. “Ready about and steer for Vera Cruz, the port of the City of Mexico! There we can buy food and repair our fleet!”
“ ’Tis well,” cried his men, and, aiming for the sheltering harbor, they soon ploughed into the smooth water of the bay. But there was consternation among the Spaniards of the town.
“We have treasure here,” they whispered to each other. “See, those English dogs have come to rob us! We must fight, brothers, and fight hard to keep the cruel Islanders away.” And they oiled their pistols and sharpened their cutlasses upon their grindstones.
SIR FRANCIS DRAKE.
But luck was with the inhabitants of Vera Cruz. Next morning thirteen careening galleys swept into the quiet waters of the bay and joy shone in the black eyes of the Spaniards.
“It is a Mexican fleet,” cried they. “It returns with a new Viceroy or Governor, from good King Philip of Spain.” And they laughed derisively.
But in the breasts of Drake and Hawkins there was doubt and suspicion.
“They are sure to attack us,” said Hawkins, moving among his men. “Let every fellow be upon his guard.”
The Spanish were full of bowings and scrapings. They protested their deep friendship for the English and wished to be moored alongside.
“We are very glad to see you, English brothers,” said one. “We welcome you to the traffic and trade of the far East.” So they peacefully dropped anchor near the suspicious men of England, still smiling, singing, and cheerfully waving a welcome to the none-too-happy sailors.
“Avast,” cried Francis Drake, “and sleep on your arms, my Hearties, for to-morrow there’ll be trouble, or else my blood’s not British.” He was but a young man, yet he had guessed correctly.
As the first glimmer of day shone in the dim horizon, a shot awoke the stillness of the morn. Another and another followed in rapid succession. Then boom! a cannon roared, and a great iron ball buried itself in the decking of the Jesus; the flagship of gallant Hawkins.
“We’re attacked,” cried Drake. “Man the decks! Up sails and steer to sea! Fight as you never fought before! Strike and strike hard for dear old England!”
But his warning almost came too late, for two Spanish galleons ranged alongside and swung grappling irons into his rigging in order to close with the moving vessel. The Englishmen struck at them with oars and hand-spikes, knocking the tentacles of the on-coming octopus aside, and, with sails flying and shots rattling, the Judith bore towards the open sea.
The fight was now furious. Two of the English ships were sunk and the Jesus, Hawkins’ own boat, was so badly damaged that she lay apparently helpless in the trough of the surging ocean.
“Back, my Hearties,” cried Drake, “and we’ll see what we can do to save our gallant captain.”
So back they sailed, and, firing their little cannon with rapidity, soon held off the Spanish ship which threatened Hawkins himself with capture. Some of the English sailors jumped into their boats and rowed away, some gave in to the Spaniards, and some fought relentlessly. Thus raged the battle until the evening.
As night fell, Drake ordered the Judith to put to sea, Hawkins followed, and wandering about in these unknown parts, with little water and a scarcity of food, hunger forced the weary sailors to eat hides, cats, dogs, mice, rats, parrots and monkeys.
“It was the troublesome voyage,” wrote Hawkins, and such, indeed, it had proved to be. Some of the sailors asked to be placed on land rather than risk shipwreck and starvation in the overcrowded boat. Some of them reached England after years of suffering and weary journeying to and fro. Some were captured by the Spaniards and were put to death as heretics. A few were sent to the galleys as slaves. Others, more fortunate, were rowed ashore to serve in monasteries, where the monks made kind and gentle masters.
And what of the youthful and danger-loving Drake? Five days before the wind-swept Jesus struggled into Plymouth harbor with Hawkins and a famine-driven crew, Drake and his own adventurous Englishmen steered the little Judith to the rocky headland which hides this sheltering refuge from the fury of the sea.
“I am indeed right glad to reach Merrie England again,” said he, “for we have had a rough and dangerous voyage. The Spaniards are treacherous dogs. They betrayed us, and henceforth I, for one, shall show them no quarter.”
So saying he journeyed to London to see the good Queen Elizabeth.
“It is impossible for me to wage war upon Philip of Spain,” said the valiant Mistress of England’s destinies, when she heard his story of loss of kinsmen, friends and goods of great value. “I have a poor country. The navy of my fathers has been ruined. I have no proper