Cobham (indignantly). Say, Say! Let her say what she ought to say. That the banner of England has been trailed through the dirt, in the streets of Madrid, by Public officers in obedience to his own order, as if he had taken it in battle from the Turk. Her Majesty’s subjects, without having committed other offence than that of being free born Englishmen, have been tortured, burned, or famished in inquisition dungeons, and buried like dogs in dunghills; and all this by royal authority, and during peace. Peace! There can be no peace between Spain and England. Talk of protection, does he expect Her Majesty to became his water bailiff, or to erect an ocean police for him? As to our Acts, under what responsibility is she for them? They are our own private Acts. Our ship’s are private property, our crews are volunteers; we sail under our own flag, and are alone responsible for what we do. Let him take care of his own by his means, and seize us if he can. Then it will be scant mercy or justice we shall receive. As for me, I have never sought to cover myself with my country’s flag; I go forth from my Irish cove under my own free bunting, I have a mission of blood and vengeance against Spain and her inquisition, and with the help of God I will never cease a war of extermination until they are destroyed; and, Killigrew, there is a continual voice within me which whispers, “The end it near.”
Killigrew. The government thinks it belongs to them, to demand retribution for the nation, and I can speak for the Queen; she is resolved.
Cobham. Tush! tush! government will never do anything. No! the merchants and sailors must take care of themselves, by self-defence and just retaliation. It is a private war against robbers and murderers. Look at this late affair of the five Bristol briggs at the Azores. The English were getting under weigh as the Spanish Admiral entered the harbour. It was enough that they carried St. George’s Cross at their main. He fires upon them, carries their crews to Cadiz in irons, makes over their property to the Inquisition, confiscates the ships, and throws the men into prison to rot like thousands of their fellows, in hopeless dungeons! (He walks aside indignant).
Killigrew. Well, but it is under negociation.
Cobham (sarcastically). Negociation with the Inquisition, over whose holy house Philip says he has no control, (a bitter laugh.) No, no! the murderers must be put down as the people of St. Malo put them down. The Spanish Inquisition burned at the stake, sixty French sailors from St. Malo, notwithstanding Philip’s entreaty to the contrary. The French manned their pinnaces, looked out for Spaniards, captured one hundred and sent their heads into Spain, leaving one man in every vessel to steer her into port, and show inquisitors the fell retribution of their bloody work! (He walks exultingly). The Spanish Inquisition has meddled no more with French sailors.
Hawkins. All true, about our affair at the Azores. I know merchants in Plymouth, who were owners in the ships. Now about these Spanish ships in port, what? You see they have taken refuge from those sea-hawks outside and from some that are inside, or I’m mistaken. What is that low black, snake-like lugger, with her anchor just atrip, like a greyhound in the leash?
Cobham (with a malicious smile). She is a fishing-boat of mine, with fifty hands in her, ready to make sail the moment the Spaniards move. And those Clippers outside are the sea-hawks of the best blood in England, driven by persecution and tyranny, to the liberty of the ocean. There is ruffling Ned Horsey, Strangway, well known as the Red Rover of the Channel, Carew’s, Tremaine’s, Throgmorton’s—enow—and I think, gentlemen, you know something of two of those clippers yourselves (with a knowing look). Well, you see we have law for what we do. These Spaniards are carrying specie from Spain to support their bloody war against our friends in the low countries, who are gallantly fighting for civil and religious liberty. We have resolved the gold shall never reach its destination—we shall baulk Philip in that at least, and so far, help our brethren in the faith.
Killigrew (laughing as if at a good joke). Hold on! Hold on! every inch there, Tom; is that your only object? Suppose it were to be employed in some work of charity would the Rovers take the same interest in it.
Cobham. Well, Harry, you who have spent such a peaceful life—you who never sunk a Spaniard or overhauled a wine brig, and ran the contents on the sands of Lowestoft, you can do what you like with your share (They laugh at the sarcasm).
Hawkins. I say, Killigrew, that’s a broadside! Tom carries too many guns for you! Ha! ha! ha! (laughter in which all join).