Hawkins (after a view of the new-comer through his telescope—laughing) You know him well. It is bold Tom Cobham, that fought his way with Wyatt, to the very gates of the Tower. He is after some devil’s play, I’ll warrant—and I think I know his game; he wears a disguise in Plymouth; there are so many spies here; he is supposed to be dead, you know.
Killigrew. Of course; it was given out that he was sentenced to an extravagant death—unknown to our laws. It was a trick of the Queen’s. She laughs when she tells how she humbugged the Ambassador, who took it all in, and actually wrote it to his master. Elizabeth knew better than to execute one of Lord Cobham’s sons, who so nearly forfeited their lives in her cause. You know his offence?
Hawkins. Yes, Yes! the Spanish ship he captured, with eighty thousand ducats, in the Bay of Biscay, and which, after sewing up the Captain and all hands in their sails for winding sheets, he sent to the bottom! It was cleverly done, that affair; just like Cobham, who is not the man to do things by halves where Spaniards are concerned. I marvel how the thing got wind. When we scuttle a ship, we expect to hear no more of her: dead men usually tell no tales!
Killigrew. In this case the adage turned out to be untrue; the westerly swell in Biscay’s shallow waters washed eighteen bodies ashore, sewed up in the mainsail; they of course were recognized, and the chase through the chops of the channel was seen by another Spaniard, who knew Cobham’s Sea Eagle before, only too well! Here he comes; let us affect not to know him!
Cobham passes—Then walks round surveying them comically, using his hand as a telescope, held to his covered eye.
Cobham. I am just taking an observation before hailing—you are a pretty pair of land-lubbers, you are, not to recognize a brother tar and messmate, who has only to open his mouth to hang you both for piracy and murder on the high seas; and levying war on Her Majesty’s faithful ally the King of Spain, a hundred times.
They all burst into laughter, with a hearty recognition.
Killigrew. My dear Tom, I am heartily glad to see you; but we were carrying out your own joke, man; when you take your next observation, just remember not to put the glass to the blind eye.
Cobham (laughing). Good, good, I only show a little false bunting for the occasion, to pass unnoticed through the crowd. We have a little business on here, and don’t want to draw attention till it is over. (He takes off the patch). But I find O cannot do this trick well; Tom Cobham fits better his part in the rough work of battle.
Hawkins. Aye, aye, Tom; you may as well open the other port. We could recognize your bold sailing, whatever canvass you should hoist. What’s the game now? I have an idea, these Antwerp-bound Spaniards, eh! They are here, you know under the protection of the law. If they are attacked, Philip will demand redress, and what will the Queen say?