Drake, Nelson and Napoleon | Page 6

to commemorate the occasion of
his conversion by a further token of His Spanish Majesty's favour. It is
easy to picture the apparent indifference with which he suggested that
he did not ask for favours, but if he were to ask for anything, it would
be the release from the Inquisition galleys of a few poor sailor prisoners.
The apparently modest request was granted. Hawkins had risked his life
to accomplish this, and now he writes a letter to Cecil beginning "My
very good Lord." I do not give the whole of the letter. Suffice it to say
that he confirms the success of the plot so far as he is concerned, and in
a last paragraph he says, "I have sent your Lordship the copy of my
pardon from the King of Spain, in the order and manner I have it, with
my great titles and honours from the King, from which God deliver
me."
The process by which Hawkins succeeded in obtaining the object he
had in view was the conception of no ordinary man. We talk and write

of his wonderful accomplishments on sea and land, as a skilful, brave
sailor, but he was more than that. He was, in many respects, a genius,
and his courage and resolution were unfailingly magnificent.
I dare say the prank he played on Philip and his advisers would be
regarded as unworthy cunning, and an outrage on the rules of high
honour. Good Protestant Christians disapproved then, as now, the
wickedness of thus gambling with religion to attain any object
whatsoever, and especially of swearing by the Mother of God the
renunciation of the Protestant faith and the adoption of Roman
Catholicism. The Spaniards, who had a hand in this nefarious
proceeding, were quite convinced that, though Hawkins had been a
pirate and a sea robber and murderer, now that he had come over to
their faith the predisposition to his former evil habits would leave him.
These were the high moral grounds on which was based the resolve to
execute Elizabeth and a large number of her subjects, and take
possession of the throne and private property at their will. It was, of
course, the spirit of retaliation for the iniquities of the British rovers
which was condoned by their monarch. In justification of our part of
the game during this period of warfare for religious and material
ascendancy, we stand by the eternal platitude that in that age we were
compelled to act differently from what we should be justified in doing
now. Civilization, for instance, so the argument goes, was at a low ebb
then. I am not so sure that it did not stand higher than it does now. It is
so easy for nations to become uncivilized, and we, in common with
other nations, have a singular aptitude for it when we think we have a
grievance. Be that as it may, Hawkins, Drake, and the other fine sea
rovers had no petty scruples about relieving Spaniards of their treasure
when they came across it on land or on their ships at sea. Call them by
what epithet you like, they believed in the sanctity of their methods of
carrying on war, and the results for the most part confirmed the
accuracy of their judgment. At any rate, by their bold and resolute
deeds they established British freedom and her supremacy of the seas,
and handed down to us an abiding spirit that has reared the finest
seamen and established our incomparable merchant fleet, the largest
and finest in the world.
There is no shame in wishing the nation to become imbued with the
spirit of these old-time heroes, for the heritage they have bequeathed to

us is divine and lives on. We speak of the great deeds they were guided
to perform, but we rarely stop to think from whence the inspiration
came, until we are touched by a throbbing impulse that brings us into
the presence of the great mystery, at which who would dare to mock?
It is strange that Hawkins' and Drake's brilliant and tragic careers
should have been brought to an end by the same disease within a short
time of each other and not many miles apart, and that their mother, the
sea, should have claimed them at last in the vicinity of the scene of
their first victorious encounter with their lifelong enemies, the
Spaniards. The death of the two invincibles, who had long struck terror
into the hearts of their foes, was the signal for prolonged rejoicings in
the Spanish Main and the Indies, while the British squadron, battered
and disease-smitten, made its melancholy way homeward with the
news of the tragedy.
For a time the loss of these commanding figures dealt a blow at the
national spirit. There