The upper half of his sharp, dogged visage seems of a brick-red
leather, the brow of badger's fur, and, as he claps Drake on the back,
with a broad Devon accent he shouts, 'Be you a-coming to drink your
wine, Francis Drake, or be you not? saving your presence my lord.'
The lord high admiral only laughs, and bids Drake go and drink his
wine, for John Hawkins, admiral of the fleet, is the patriarch of
Plymouth seamen, if Drake is the hero.
26. "So they push through the crowd, wherein is many another man whom
we would gladly have spoken with face to face on earth. Martin
Frobisher and John Davis are sitting on that bench, smoking tobacco
from long silver pipes; and by them are Fenton and Wishington, who
have both tried to follow Drake's path around the world, and failed,
though by no fault of their own. The short, prim man, in the huge
yellow ruff, is Richard Hawkins, the admiral's hereafter famous son.
27. "But hark! the boom of a single gun seaward directs the attention
of every one to a small armed vessel staggering up the sound under a
press of canvas. A boat puts off; its oars flash quickly in the sun;
the captain lands, and, inquiring for the lord high admiral, is
quickly brought into his presence. He has discovered the formidable
array of the Spaniards bearing down with the wind like so many
floating castles, the ocean seeming to groan under the weight of their
heavy burdens.
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