Act 3 — Scene I.—PLYMOUTH.

The Hoe—a high ground commanding a view of the Town, Harbour and Sound seaward. Ships sailing in and out. Privateers cruising by the Offing—a number of the same sort in the Harbour ready to make sail at a moment’s notice. William Hawkins, with a Telescope having taken a view.

Hawkins (melancholy and brooding). Not a speck! No hope! All gone! or worse, captured, and then the Inquisition, fire and faggot! Nothing too cruel for Spaniards to Englishmen. My poor Brother!

Enter Sir Henry Killigrew, who comes up to him unseen, one of the many nobles and gentry driven to the sea as daring Buccaniers, by the Marian persecution, now a most confidential agent of the Queen.

Sir Henry Killigrew (clapping him on the shoulder). Well! old friend, what does the Telescope say? For I can guess what you are on the look out for. I came down from London, to have a look myself, and to have a talk with you about these Spanish ships in port, with specie. I shall detain them until the result of this affair is ascertained. The Queen is in a towering rage. You know her temper when she feels not only that she is injured, but that her honour and power are slighted. She says this is a foul business; worse than open war.

Hawkins. My poor Brother, with all his gallant spirit and seamanship, when dealing with the enemy, was so confident in his crotchets of Law and Treaty!

Killigrew. Law and Treaty with the Spaniard; that means let him tie your hands until he cuts your throat and robs you! There is hardly a day without some demand of redress from Philip, whilst even an answer is refused to us for the gravest breaches of Law, human and divine. The state of affairs is ominous. The Council is divided. Men say the Nation is divided; a foul falsehood. This affair of the Queen of Scots with the Duke of Norfolk, the poor fool! an idle threat of rebellion aided by Spain and the Pope. The Queen hardly knows whom to trust. Her reliance is on the Privateers, but we had better retire to talk of these matters. Here comes a suspicious looking rascal (he looks at him) he walks lame! Yet, observe, it is only a limp now and then; and that patch over his eye—it is only put on for a blind; the fellow does not look before him, like a man with one eye; yet he has a bold bearing, and tall. But for the patch and the awkward limp, I should think I knew the rake of his top-mast.

Hawkins (after a view of the new-comer through his telescope—laughing) You know him well. It is bold Tom Cobham, that fought his way with Wyatt, to the very gates of the Tower. He is after some devil’s play, I’ll warrant—and I think I know his game; he wears a disguise in Plymouth; there are so many spies here; he is supposed to be dead, you know.

Killigrew. Of course; it was given out that he was sentenced to an extravagant death—unknown to our laws. It was a trick of the Queen’s. She laughs when she tells how she humbugged the Ambassador, who took it all in, and actually wrote it to his master. Elizabeth knew better than to execute one of Lord Cobham’s sons, who so nearly forfeited their lives in her cause. You know his offence?

Hawkins. Yes, Yes! the Spanish ship he captured, with eighty thousand ducats, in the Bay of Biscay, and which, after sewing up the Captain and all hands in their sails for winding sheets, he sent to the bottom! It was cleverly done, that affair; just like Cobham, who is not the man to do things by halves where Spaniards are concerned. I marvel how the thing got wind. When we scuttle a ship, we expect to hear no more of her: dead men usually tell no tales!

Killigrew. In this case the adage turned out to be untrue; the westerly swell in Biscay’s shallow waters washed eighteen bodies ashore, sewed up in the mainsail; they of course were recognized, and the chase through the chops of the channel was seen by another Spaniard, who knew Cobham’s Sea Eagle before, only too well! Here he comes; let us affect not to know him!

Cobham passes—Then walks round surveying them comically, using his hand as a telescope, held to his covered eye.

Cobham. I am just taking an observation before hailing—you are a pretty pair of land-lubbers, you are, not to recognize a brother tar and messmate, who has only to open his mouth to hang you both for piracy and murder on the high seas; and levying war on Her Majesty’s faithful ally the King of Spain, a hundred times.

They all burst into laughter, with a hearty recognition.

Killigrew. My dear Tom, I am heartily glad to see you; but we were carrying out your own joke, man; when you take your next observation, just remember not to put the glass to the blind eye.

Cobham (laughing). Good, good, I only show a little false bunting for the occasion, to pass unnoticed through the crowd. We have a little business on here, and don’t want to draw attention till it is over. (He takes off the patch). But I find O cannot do this trick well; Tom Cobham fits better his part in the rough work of battle.

Hawkins. Aye, aye, Tom; you may as well open the other port. We could recognize your bold sailing, whatever canvass you should hoist. What’s the game now? I have an idea, these Antwerp-bound Spaniards, eh! They are here, you know under the protection of the law. If they are attacked, Philip will demand redress, and what will the Queen say?

Cobham (indignantly). Say, Say! Let her say what she ought to say. That the banner of England has been trailed through the dirt, in the streets of Madrid, by Public officers in obedience to his own order, as if he had taken it in battle from the Turk. Her Majesty’s subjects, without having committed other offence than that of being free born Englishmen, have been tortured, burned, or famished in inquisition dungeons, and buried like dogs in dunghills; and all this by royal authority, and during peace. Peace! There can be no peace between Spain and England. Talk of protection, does he expect Her Majesty to became his water bailiff, or to erect an ocean police for him? As to our Acts, under what responsibility is she for them? They are our own private Acts. Our ship’s are private property, our crews are volunteers; we sail under our own flag, and are alone responsible for what we do. Let him take care of his own by his means, and seize us if he can. Then it will be scant mercy or justice we shall receive. As for me, I have never sought to cover myself with my country’s flag; I go forth from my Irish cove under my own free bunting, I have a mission of blood and vengeance against Spain and her inquisition, and with the help of God I will never cease a war of extermination until they are destroyed; and, Killigrew, there is a continual voice within me which whispers, “The end it near.”

Killigrew. The government thinks it belongs to them, to demand retribution for the nation, and I can speak for the Queen; she is resolved.

Cobham. Tush! tush! government will never do anything. No! the merchants and sailors must take care of themselves, by self-defence and just retaliation. It is a private war against robbers and murderers. Look at this late affair of the five Bristol briggs at the Azores. The English were getting under weigh as the Spanish Admiral entered the harbour. It was enough that they carried St. George’s Cross at their main. He fires upon them, carries their crews to Cadiz in irons, makes over their property to the Inquisition, confiscates the ships, and throws the men into prison to rot like thousands of their fellows, in hopeless dungeons! (He walks aside indignant).

Killigrew. Well, but it is under negociation.

Cobham (sarcastically). Negociation with the Inquisition, over whose holy house Philip says he has no control, (a bitter laugh.) No, no! the murderers must be put down as the people of St. Malo put them down. The Spanish Inquisition burned at the stake, sixty French sailors from St. Malo, notwithstanding Philip’s entreaty to the contrary. The French manned their pinnaces, looked out for Spaniards, captured one hundred and sent their heads into Spain, leaving one man in every vessel to steer her into port, and show inquisitors the fell retribution of their bloody work! (He walks exultingly). The Spanish Inquisition has meddled no more with French sailors.

Hawkins. All true, about our affair at the Azores. I know merchants in Plymouth, who were owners in the ships. Now about these Spanish ships in port, what? You see they have taken refuge from those sea-hawks outside and from some that are inside, or I’m mistaken. What is that low black, snake-like lugger, with her anchor just atrip, like a greyhound in the leash?

Cobham (with a malicious smile). She is a fishing-boat of mine, with fifty hands in her, ready to make sail the moment the Spaniards move. And those Clippers outside are the sea-hawks of the best blood in England, driven by persecution and tyranny, to the liberty of the ocean. There is ruffling Ned Horsey, Strangway, well known as the Red Rover of the Channel, Carew’s, Tremaine’s, Throgmorton’s—enow—and I think, gentlemen, you know something of two of those clippers yourselves (with a knowing look). Well, you see we have law for what we do. These Spaniards are carrying specie from Spain to support their bloody war against our friends in the low countries, who are gallantly fighting for civil and religious liberty. We have resolved the gold shall never reach its destination—we shall baulk Philip in that at least, and so far, help our brethren in the faith.

Killigrew (laughing as if at a good joke). Hold on! Hold on! every inch there, Tom; is that your only object? Suppose it were to be employed in some work of charity would the Rovers take the same interest in it.

Cobham. Well, Harry, you who have spent such a peaceful life—you who never sunk a Spaniard or overhauled a wine brig, and ran the contents on the sands of Lowestoft, you can do what you like with your share (They laugh at the sarcasm).

Hawkins. I say, Killigrew, that’s a broadside! Tom carries too many guns for you! Ha! ha! ha! (laughter in which all join).

Cobham. But you see I have spent my life fighting for religion and vengeance, and, with the help of God, will so continue to the end (with firm resolution) I can’t forgot the times of Wyatt!

Killigrew. Well, it helps the work, Tom, when there is good plunder as well as vengeance.—Somehow, I cannot help thinking that if they carried corn instead of gold and silver, they might have continued their voyage.

Cobham. That is as it may be. If they hailed from a Protestant country—England or Holland—or carried a neutral flag, Moor, Greek, or Turk.—But Spain and her Inquisition sets my blood a boiling, I would sink one of her ships with all hands; even if freighted with manure or sand. Do you think our blood is to cry to Heaven in vain for vengeance? Not while Thomas Cobham has one shot in the locker—a Rover’s deck, manned with fifty free, daring boys, that can fight five hundred or a thousand Spaniards wherever we meet them on the ocean. But with respect to these Spaniards I cannot see any good reason, why we should not spoil, as well as slay, the Philistines.

Enter Sir Edward Horsey from behind.

Horsey. Praise the Lord! England has still one of her saints left—spoken like a true son of a Puritan! You have chapter and verse for that—go-a-head, Tom,—slay and take possession, and when your hand is in the throat of the common foe, Edward Horsey is not the man to baulk you in your purpose.

They all shake hands with the new-comer, laughing.

Cobham. Ned! I am glad to see you. I beg your pardon! (bowing low). Sir Edward Horsey! Why man, I understand the Queen has knighted you and made you Governor of the Isle of Wight. She is coming to her senses, and recognizing her true friends at last—a Rover of the genuine stamp (laughing exultingly) Governor of the Isle of Wight! No Frenchman or Spaniard will land there I trow. She sees that the real defence of the coast, as well as the ultimate overthrow of Spain and the possession of the Trident, lies with the free flag, and must pass to England through her Freebooters.

Killigrew. Well she is beginning to see, that we are the men that she must rely on at last, and even Cecil is opening his eyes. This last affair of Sir John Hawkins, so base, cowardly, and cruel. Such an outrage upon truth and honour. Her pride has been seriously hurt, and you see she was a large partner in the venture, and the profits of enormous value, entirely lost. This has wounded our Queen in the tenderest part—her pocket. She has sent me down to ascertain if any direct tidings have come to hand—and to consult with William Hawkins and the rest of you, what can be done. She does not like open war, and fears Philip will declare it.

Cobham. How can he further declare it than by his acts? Has he not, as far as Edicts can, closed his Ports against us, and attempted to destroy our trade with the Flemings, who cannot do without us. Bah! has not Hawkins boldly and seamanly answered the challenge just before he sailed, by firing upon a Spanish Man of War, with prisoners, in Plymouth Harbour? What is peace and what war. Well! I fear Spanish justice has overtaken him at last with all his tricks and finesse, and all his gallantry and skill, what is the truth? Is there any intelligence at all, William? That is what I followed you up to hear.

Hawkins. Nothing direct, I fear the worst. That they are all gone down after the battle, or worse perhaps, taken, and handed over to the Inquisition. The dreaded name of Hawkins, would bring down on them, the full vials of Philip’s wrath. Whatever we know, is from Spanish sources—Killigrew can give it authentic, through the Government.

Killigrew. Alas! We expect information here. A terrible battle has been fought. The Queen’s ship the Jesus, with immense value has been captured by the Spaniards, and a vast number of English killed, or made prisoners. Some of the smaller vessels however got away. The Ambassador observes strict silence of Sir John, or Drake, we can learn nothing, the disaster has been terrific, we fear they are all gone. The Queen is in a rage, and says we may go at the treasure ships, that have taken refuge in our ports. I have taken measures to secure those at Southampton, before coming to give you the hint, and to seize these here. She is determined on redress.

Cobham. You see by what I have said, I did not wait for any hints. Don Francisco Diaz, lying there beside my lugger, carries as freight about half a million a Genoese loan to Philip, for which the Duke of Alva hangs fire, his army being in mutiny for their arrears of pay. The Duke promised Philip, that he could make the war self-supporting. He has failed entirely. The Flemings are too much for him in that, they carry off their valuables. He gains battles but there is no plunder! (He turns his eye to the Spanish ship and raising his finger addresses her). Don Francisco Diaz! Thou shalt not deliver thy precious freight at Antwerp! (Cheers in the offing).

Killigrew, (laying his hand on Cobham’s shoulder,) Hush! What’s all that? Something of importance. (They all look.)

Hawkins. What can be up? They are crowding to the beach, and the piers. The cruisers too, they are firing salutes in the offing and showing their bunting. What can it mean? Surely that was a cheer, rolling down upon the wind. Let us go and see, besides, there are queer rumours I should like you to hear whispered about the disaster of our friends, said to come from the Spaniards in the harbour. (A cheer in the offing).

Cobham. That is an undoubled cheer in the offing. There is something ill the wind, go a-head. (Exeunt).