Afterwards I thought it strange that no one had urged Drake to let go the prize and run for it; but then all seemed to think that the course he had made up his mind to was the only one possible.
Nearer and nearer she drew, till the mist, which was very thick close down on the water and had till now hidden her hull, cleared a little, and we could see, I at least with sinking heart, the sunlight sparkle on the ordnance which protruded from her lofty forecastle, like the teeth of some savage hound.
'Culverins!' whispered Harry to me. 'They have point-blank range of five hundred paces, and we are within that of her already. There is no running now, whatever befalls. Heaven send she is a Queen's ship, and no Spaniard.'
'What matters which,' said I, 'if we are pirates? You know well what grievous complaints they say the Spanish ambassador has made, and what orders the Queen has given the navy.'
'Well, wait a little. See the trumpets on the poop; they are going to hail us.'
On she came, a glorious sight, with the sun glowing on her bulging sails and the perfect lines of her hull, that swept so gracefully from towering poop to lofty forecastle.
Suddenly, as she drew level with us, her trumpets blared forth a loud flourish that rolled merrily away over the misty sea. The boatswain's pipe chirped out, and we could see the sailors stand by to go about.
Again the trumpets brayed a fuller call, and then a mass of red and gold aloft unfolded itself with royal languor, till there flashed in the sunlight, plain to see, the beautiful banner of our island Queen.
A lusty cheer from all our crew greeted the welcome flag. As it died away we could hear the captain of the Queen's ship hailing us to know who we were, and what we did.
'The Gazehound of Chatham—Master Drake,' shouted Frank, springing on the poop,—and then, after a pause, 'aiding a Spanish caravel in distress.'