Carvell (to Hawkins). Right, Captain, I thank God for one of them. See how the privateers gather round her. Hurrah my boys. Stand by to lend her a hand. (He runs about). Get a hausser to the shore and help her round the pier. (The hausser is handed up. He and others lay hold of it and run pulling). Hurrah, men, with a run.
The vessel is hauled alongside, Drake is handed up and presented to the people amidst tremendous cheers, congratulations and confusion. Shouts of Hurrah for Drake.
Crowd. Hurrah for Drake. (Drake after grasping a hand or two shakes them off).
Drake (with excitement). Bear with me, friends! Bear with me! (He prostrates himself on the earth, kisses it with devoted fondness, then rising on one knee addresses it with gesticulations of emotion). Land of my birth! Land of my love! Land of my duty! Blessed England. Once more I press thee. Sacred be thy soil, I love thy very dust. Thus, (kissing the ground), thus (again kissing it), I greet thee. Land of the brave, land of the free! Tyrants may have trampled thy fields. Fierce passions and civic strife, like the rage of fire, have scorched thy loveliness, devoured thy people. Red hast thou been with brothers’ blood, the blood of Patriots and Martyrs. Still thou wert ever glorious. Sanctuary of Liberty and Law, who would not die for thee? Sacred be thy soil, may I perish ere the foot of the invader shall degrade thee. (He is interrupted with excitement, friends press round him, raise him up and embrace him. He is much excited).
Crowd (with violence), Invade us? Never! Never shall that be.
Tom Cobham (fiercely). Accursed be the slave who could outlive the insult. Never shall they touch dry land. We’ll show them the road to the bottom of the channel. Let them invade that. (Shouts of indignation, and A Cobham! A Cobham.)
Sailor. Hurrah for Cobham! He knows how to bury a Spaniard.
Crowd, Hurrah! A Cobham! A Cobham.
Drake (turning to William Hawkins with emotion). Ah! Kinsman, all lost but honour. Foul play! Treachery! Robbery! Murder! Spain has outdone herself in perfidy and baseness. Poor Sir John!
Hawkins. What of him, and the rest?