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 ma.s.s 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 sh.o.r.e, 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.

It was the evening of June the 20th, 1596. The British vessels rapidly sailed into the harbor, Raleigh leading, in the flagship, the _Water Sprite_; behind him the _Mary Rose_, commanded by his cousin, Sir George Carew; and the _Rainbow_ under Sir Francis Vere. All were eager for the fray, and it was not long before their approach was observed by the Spanish fleet. Instantly a huge galleon, the _Saint Philip_--the largest in the Spanish Navy--swung out of her position, followed by the _Saint Andrew_, second only to her in size.

"They're coming to meet me!" cried Raleigh--joyously.

Instead of that, the galleons sailed for a narrow strait in the harbor--followed by the rest of the Spanish fleet--and cast anchor just under the stout fortress of Puntal. They arranged themselves in close array and awaited the attack of the English.

The English fleet anch.o.r.ed, but at daybreak, the impetuous Raleigh bore down upon the formidable ma.s.s of hulking galleons. The sun rays streamed over the old, Spanish town, gilding the pinnaces and spires of the churches, shining brightly upon the flapping pennons of Britisher and Don. The white sails flapped, spars creaked and groaned, the sailors cheered, and--in a moment--the cannon began to bark, like wolf hounds. The fight had begun.

Raleigh was the incarnation of battle. Pa.s.sing rapidly from point to point upon the deck of his vessel, he encouraged and urged on his men, exposed himself as freely as the rest; and whenever a man faltered, there he appeared to urge the faint heart on with words of inspiration and hope.

_Roar! Roar! Roar! Zoom! Zoom! Crash!_

The arquebusses spittled and spat; cannon growled; and iron crashed into solid oak planking.

The orders were not to board until the fly-boats (long, flat-bottomed vessels with high sterns) came up, which were manned by Dutch allies.

For three hours the battle raged, but the fly-boats did not arrive.

The Earl of Ess.e.x--the commander of this expedition--now ordered his flagship to pa.s.s through the advance line of vessels, and make the way to the front. Raleigh was chafing with rage because the fly-boats did not come, yet, in spite of the danger of being shot, he jumped into a light skiff, and was rowed over to the galleon of Ess.e.x.

"I'll board the _Saint Philip_," cried he, "if the fly-boats do not soon arrive. Even though it be against the orders of the Admiral. For it is the same loss to burn, or to sink, and I must soon endure one or the other."

"Go ahead!" yelled Ess.e.x, over the bow. "I'll second you, upon my honor!"

Raleigh hastened with all speed to the deck of the _Water Sprite_, where his men were pounding away at the Spanish galleons with all their might and main. No sooner had he mounted the p.o.o.p, than he saw, with anger, that two vessels of his own squadron had forced themselves into a position in front of his own; for their commanders wanted to win first honors in this battle at sea.

Raleigh, himself, wished to have the honor, just like other sea captains in later battles. But,--that's another story.

So, the gallant seaman ran the _Water Sprite_ between the two other ships and took up his position as leader. Sir Francis Vere of the _Rainbow_ was resolved to keep in front as well as Raleigh.

As the _Water Sprite_ pa.s.sed him he slyly cast a rope to a sailor, who tied it to her stern, and his own vessel thus kept abreast of the lumbering galley of his chief. "But," writes Sir Walter, "some of my company advising me thereof, I caused the rope to be cast off, and so Vere fell back in his place, where I guarded him--all but his very prow--from the sight of the enemy. I was very sure that none would outstart me again for that day."

The guns of the fort appeared to be silent and the big galleons lay apparently helpless in the face of the valiant enemy. Raleigh moved on, but, as he was about to clutch his splendid prize, it escaped him, for the Spaniards--finding that they would be captured--made haste to run the _Saint Philip_, and several of her sister ships, aground on the sand.

"Blow them up!" came the order.

The Spanish sailors and soldiers came tumbling out of the ships into the sea in heaps--"as thick as if coals had been poured out of a sack into many pots at once." Then a terrific roar boomed forth. The air was filled with flying splinters, canvas, iron, and lead. The portions of the galleons were now floating upon the waves and the water was alive with the struggling bodies of the Spaniards as they desperately endeavored to save themselves.

The spectacle was lamentable. Many drowned themselves. Many, half burned, leaped into the water; while others hung by the ropes' ends; by the ships' sides; under the sea, even to their lips. "If any man had a desire to see h.e.l.l, itself," wrote Sir Walter, "it was there most lively figured!"

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

The English sailors were cheering, for victory was theirs, and of all the gallant warriors of that day, Raleigh had been the most persistently daring and heroic.

"The _Saint Andrew_'s still afloat, good Sire!" cried one of his sailors at this moment.

"Then we'll take her!" cried Raleigh.

She was boarded and captured with little difficulty, while yet another galleon--the _Saint Matthew_--fell into his hands. These were the only vessels of all that proud Spanish fleet which had escaped the flames.

Raleigh, himself, had been severely wounded in the leg, but he refused to release the command of his ship. He gave orders that all lives should be spared, and although these mandates were rigidly obeyed by the English soldiers, the Dutch cruelly slaughtered many of their hapless prisoners, for their hatred of the Spaniards was bitter and savage.