however, proved quite successful. A ship, commanded by
one Bermingham, was sent round to Donegal, under pretence
of being direct from Spain. She carried some casks of
Spanish wine, and had a crew of 50 armed men. This ship
dropped anchor off Rathmullen Castle on Lough Swilly, in
which neighbourhood the young O'Donnell--then barely
fifteen--was staying with his foster-father, McSweeny,
and several companions of his own age. The unsuspecting
youths were courteously invited on board the pretended
Spanish ship, where, while they were being entertained
in the cabin, the hatches were fastened down, the cable
slipped, the sails spread to the wind, and the vessel
put to sea. The threats and promises of the astonished
clansmen as they gathered to the shore were answered by
the mockery of the crew, who safely delivered their prize
in Dublin, to the great delight of the Lord Deputy and
his Council. Five weary years of fetters and privation
the young captives were doomed to pass in the dungeons
of the Castle before they breathed again the air of their
native North.

But now every ship that reached the English or Irish
ports brought tidings more and more positive of the
immense armada which King Philip was preparing to launch
from the Tagus against England. The piratical exploits
of Hawkins and Drake against the Spanish settlements in
America, the barbarous execution of Mary, Queen of Scots,
and the open alliance of Elizabeth with the Dutch
insurgents, all acted as stimulants to the habitual
slowness of the Spanish sovereign. Another event, though