Act 3 — Scene II.

The pier, crowd of sailors, and citizens running as if for some strange news, or standing in groups conjecturing.

Enter W. Hawkins, Sir H. Killigrew, and Sir E. Horsey.

Hawkins. Let us get among the sailors and hear what they think, their instinct for the real is marvellous, as their far-sightedness at sea. Here’s a group of the right sort for us! Pointing to some powerful men of haughty bearing and daring expression, dressed in a superior style, flaunting gold chains and massive jewellery, with Indian silk handkerchiefs carelessly worn, and other marks of wealth obstentiously displayed. They seem not only to stand aloof by themselves but to shoulder their way without considering much whether or not, they give offence. As Hawkins and his companions make their way into the group one of them salutes with an air of recognition.

Sailor. Good day, Captain! If there were Spaniards here, I would say to them “War hawks, make all sail!” (Looking with a knowing wink at his companions).

Hawkins. Why, Bill Carvell! Is it you? What’s all this stir and curiosity about? They are firing salutes, and cheering, in the offing. (Rounds of cheers, firing of salutes, and hoisting of flags by the cruizers echoes along the shore by the people.)

Carvell. It is only that poor cripple limping into the harbour, with broken legs. She is tattered, and torn, wounded and weak; and no mistake whether by storm or battle.

2nd Sailor. Not so overweak, that she cloud not take her own part, in case of need. She has a dammed rakish look about her, like some broken down gentle-woman, whose rank no poverty can conceal! I can see her pride and high spirit, though all her rags. See how she answers the helm, and takes the windward of that great Flemish bark!

3rd Sailor, (with a knowing emphasis and nod). She’s off a long voyage, and carries no freight; unless perhaps, it may be a dust or so of the precious metals. I’m mistaken if she’s not in fighting gear, as well as sailing trim.

4th Sailor. She has passed through a heavy gale, her rigging is sadly mawled.

3rd Sailor. Gale be damned! It has been a thunder storm with iron for hail! No wind or waves ever did that damage. Those bulwarks have shot holes in them, man. Some Spaniard has got the worst of it, with that Falcon.

Hawkins. What think you of her, Bill Carvell? Have you any guess?

Carvell. I am quite out of my reckoning, and yet I think she is no stranger. But you see her spars are so handled, and the main is only a jury mast.

Hawkins. I imagine somehow, I know the sheer of her gunwale, and the manner in which the foremost is stepped, (Aside to himself), can it be? (Shouts of “The Judith, The Judith.” Tremendous cheering). Yes it is! It is the Judith and Francis Drake, if he is alive.

The cheering and rushing about increases. Shouts of hurrah for the Judith. Hurrah for Drake. Hurrah for Hawkins! Down with the Spaniards.

Carvell (to Hawkins). Right, Captain, I thank God for one of them. See how the privateers gather round her. Hurrah my boys. Stand by to lend her a hand. (He runs about). Get a hausser to the shore and help her round the pier. (The hausser is handed up. He and others lay hold of it and run pulling). Hurrah, men, with a run.

The vessel is hauled alongside, Drake is handed up and presented to the people amidst tremendous cheers, congratulations and confusion. Shouts of Hurrah for Drake.

Crowd. Hurrah for Drake. (Drake after grasping a hand or two shakes them off).

Drake (with excitement). Bear with me, friends! Bear with me! (He prostrates himself on the earth, kisses it with devoted fondness, then rising on one knee addresses it with gesticulations of emotion). Land of my birth! Land of my love! Land of my duty! Blessed England. Once more I press thee. Sacred be thy soil, I love thy very dust. Thus, (kissing the ground), thus (again kissing it), I greet thee. Land of the brave, land of the free! Tyrants may have trampled thy fields. Fierce passions and civic strife, like the rage of fire, have scorched thy loveliness, devoured thy people. Red hast thou been with brothers’ blood, the blood of Patriots and Martyrs. Still thou wert ever glorious. Sanctuary of Liberty and Law, who would not die for thee? Sacred be thy soil, may I perish ere the foot of the invader shall degrade thee. (He is interrupted with excitement, friends press round him, raise him up and embrace him. He is much excited).

Crowd (with violence), Invade us? Never! Never shall that be.

Tom Cobham (fiercely). Accursed be the slave who could outlive the insult. Never shall they touch dry land. We’ll show them the road to the bottom of the channel. Let them invade that. (Shouts of indignation, and A Cobham! A Cobham.)

Sailor. Hurrah for Cobham! He knows how to bury a Spaniard.

Crowd, Hurrah! A Cobham! A Cobham.

Drake (turning to William Hawkins with emotion). Ah! Kinsman, all lost but honour. Foul play! Treachery! Robbery! Murder! Spain has outdone herself in perfidy and baseness. Poor Sir John!

Hawkins. What of him, and the rest?

Drake. Alas, I know not. I saw the Jesus and the Spanish Admiral both in flames. I fear they are all dead, or worse—prisoners. We fought our way through fire and slaughter, and we alone remain to tell of their glory and their fate.

Hawkins. Alas! Alas, (wringing his hands with great emotion and grief). This is a dreadful business; the fellest swoop Spain has yet made on us. What is to be done? Alas! Alas! (he walks about in distraction.)

Cobham (fiercely). Cover the ocean with our cruizers! Burn their towns! Sink their ships! Seize their treasure! War! War to the death.

Crowd. War! War to the death! A Cobham! A Cobham.

Sailor (stepping out and brandishing his axe). I’ll swear eternal war (walks about brandishing his axe). Death to every Spaniard I fall in with on sea or land.

Drake (much agitated). Come along, kinsman, I must be off at once to London and see the Queen, I must tell her all personally; her treaties broken, commerce invaded, her own ship burned, her seamen slaughtered, above a million gone; let me be off.

(Exeunt Drake, Hawkins, Cobham, and others, excited and followed by a raging crowd, gesticulating violently and shouting).

Crowd. We’ll pay them. War! Plunder! That’s the game! War! Revenge! Hurrah for Drake, and war! Plunder! Plunder! (Exeunt Omnes).

(Scene changes).