and then proceeded, with becoming solemnity and in the names
of God and the Icy Queen, to plunder Spanish ports and
Spanish shipping. Drake believed he was by God's blessing
carrying out a divinely governed destiny, and so perhaps he
was; but it is difficult somewhat to reconcile his
covetousness with his piety. But what is to be said of his
Royal mistress whose crown and realm were saved to her by
free sacrifices of blood and life on the part of thousands
of single-minded men, whom the Royal Lady calmly allowed,
after they had secured her safety and that of England, to
starve in peace on Margate Sands? Times have changed. Were
such reward to be meted to the sailors of to-day after some
great period of storm, stress and national peril had been
passed through by virtue of their prowess, the wrath of the
nation might break forth and go near to sweep away such
high-placed callousness for good and all.

The modern austere critic of the condition of the seamen of
the mercantile marine is somewhat of an infliction. He slays
the present-day sailor with virulent denunciation, and
implores divine interposition to take us back to the good
old days of Hawkins, Drake, Howard, Blake and the intrepid
Nelson. He craves a resurrection of the combined heroism and
piety of the sixteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth
centuries. The seaman of those periods is, to his mind, a
lost ideal. And without doubt the men trained and
disciplined by Hawkins and Drake _were_ the glory of Britain
and the terror of other nationalities. Their seamanship and
heroism were matchless. They had desperate work to do, and
they did it with completeness and devotion. And the same