“Well, Master Stafford, prove thy mettle at this, England’s time of need, and it may be that England’s queen will overlook thy past transgressions. 299 I am Walter Mildemay, kinsman of Edward Devereaux, and a true subject of the queen’s majesty, save and except for abetting the rescue of Edward Devereaux. For that I hope to make my peace with the queen if we meet the Spaniards.”
“Hath their ships been sighted yet, Walter?” asked Edward.
“Nay; but they watch for them hourly as they have been doing for days. ’Twill surely not be much longer till they come.”
The summer’s sun was casting its lengthening shadows across the quiet harbor of Plymouth as the little vessel containing the three, Walter Mildemay, Edward Devereaux, and Francis Stafford, anchored not far from the town. A boat put off, bearing the three named to the place where they had been informed Admiral Lord Howard was.
It was the memorable evening of July 19, 1588, and an exciting game of bowls was being played upon the green back of the Pelican Inn known to every officer of Her Majesty’s navy. Standing round the bowling alley were a group of men watching the game with interest. Lord Howard of Effingham, the Lord 300 High Admiral of England; Sir Robert Southwell, his son-in-law, the captain of the Elizabeth Joncas; Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Richard Grenville; Martin Frobisher and John Davis; John Hawkins and his pupil, Sir Francis Drake, the vice admiral of the fleet.
The three paused as they entered this illustrious group. Sir Walter Raleigh was the first to spy them.
“Ha, my apt pupil of the sword!” he cried. “Why came you hither?”
“We are come to join the fleet,” answered Francis boldly.
“Lord Howard, here be three more volunteers,” cried Raleigh. “Verily it beseems that all of England’s sons have come forth for the fight.”
“And they have done well,” answered the deep voice of the noble admiral.