In the second place, Drake wished to attack and injure the Roman Catholic faith whenever and wherever he could. Churchmen had told him that this was a lawful aim. How earnestly he believed it we can see from the story, where he tried to persuade the Maroons to “leave their crosses,” which to him were the sign of the hated religion. The terrible tale of the massacre of the Protestants on St. Bartholomew’s Day told him by the French captain (who himself fell into the hands of the Spaniards, as we have seen), must have inflamed this feeling in his soul and in those of his men. It made them more eager than ever to fight the enemies of their own faith.
Then, too, the Spaniards founded their rights to own the New World upon a grant from one of the Popes; and the English, now no longer Catholics, denied his power to give it, and claimed the right for themselves to explore and conquer and keep what share they could get.
The King of Spain looked upon Drake as a pirate, but he could not find out how far he had been secretly encouraged by Elizabeth, and Drake was not punished, in spite of Philip’s urgent complaints. But he was prevented from sailing away again on a voyage of discovery, though his friends and brothers went, and among them John Oxenham, who was hanged as a pirate by the Spaniards because he had no commission or formal leave from the Queen or the Government to trade in the West Indies.
During this interval Drake took service in Ireland, under the Earl of Essex, furnishing his own ships, “and doing excellent service both by sea and land at the winning of divers strong forts.” The work he took a part in was as harsh and cruel as any that was ever done by fire and sword to make Ireland more desolate. Here he met Thomas Doughty, one of the household of the Earl of Essex, a scholar and a soldier, who became his friend, and sailed with him on his next voyage.
The story of this voyage is told under the name of “The World Encompassed,” and in it Drake is said “to have turned up a furrow about the whole world.” In 1520 Magellan had discovered the passage south of America from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, since called by his name. Many adventurers had tried to follow him, but all their efforts had ended in disaster, and the Straits had an uncanny name among sailors, and “were counted so terrible in those days that the very thoughts of attempting them were dreadful.”
Drake’s fleet was made up of five ships—the Pelican, which was his flagship, the Elizabeth, the Marigold, the Swan, and the Christopher. They took a hundred and sixty men and plentiful provisions and stores for the long and dangerous voyage. They also took pinnaces which could be set up when wanted. Nor did Drake forget to “make provision for ornament and delight, carrying to this purpose with him expert musicians, rich furniture (all the vessels for his table, yea, many belonging to the cook-room, being of pure silver).”
They started on November 15, 1577, but were forced by a gale to put back into Plymouth for repairs, and started out again on December 13. The sailors were not told the real aim of the voyage, which was to “sail upon those seas greatly longed for.” They were too full of fears and fancies. The unknown was haunted in their minds with devils and hurtful spirits, and in those days people still believed in magic.
They picked up several prizes on their way out, notably a large Portuguese ship, whose cargo of wine and food was valuable to the English ships. Drake sent the passengers and crew on shore, but kept the pilot, Numa da Silva, who gives one account of the voyage, and was most useful, as he knew the coasts so well. One of Drake’s main cares on this voyage, we are told, was to keep the fleet together as much as possible, to get fresh water, and to refresh the men, “wearied with long toils at sea,” as often as possible. He decided to lessen the number of the ships, for “fewer ships keep better company,” and he looked for a harbour to anchor in.
“Our General,” says the book, “especially in matters of moment, was never one to rely only on other men’s care, how trusty or skilful soever they might seem to be. But always scorning danger, and refusing no toil, he was wont himself to be one, whosoever was a second, at every turn, where courage, skill, or industry was to be employed. Neither would he at any time entrust the discovery of these dangers to another’s pains, but rather to his own experience in searching out and sounding of them.”
So in this case Drake himself went out in the boat and rowed into the bay. The Swan, the Christopher, and the prize were sacrificed, their stores being used for the other ships.