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. The lord high admiral proposes to hold counsel with his
principal officers; but, says Drake, with a hearty laugh: 'Let us play
out our play; there will be plenty of time to win the game and beat
the Spaniards, too.'

28. "The game was played out steadily, and, the last cast having been
thrown, Drake and his comrades leaped into their boats and rowed
swiftly to their respective ships. With so much skill did Howard and
his lieutenants direct the movements of their squadrons that, before
morning, sixty of the best English ships had warped out of Plymouth
Harbor."