ho of another and far
distant day "appertaining to the galleons which came from America,"
that day on which the news of the catastrophe was received in the
palace of Madrid. Gabriel de Savoy, the child queen, then only
fourteen years old and wed to Philip V, heard the tidings of the battle
of Vigo Bay, "on the day and hour which was fixed upon for her to go in
public to give thanks to the Virgin of Atocha for the triumphs of the
king, and to place in that temple the banners captured from the enemy
in Italy. This wise lady lamented bitterly such fatal news, but not
wishing to discourage and afflict her people, she put on courage, and
resolving to go forth presented herself with so serene a countenance as
to impose upon all, who were astonished at her courage, and the
ceremony was performed as if nothing had happened."

Vigo to-day is a pretty and thriving town of 30,000 people, with a
large trade by sea, and fertile fields stretching between bay and
mountain. Round about are the ancient forts and castles which were
stormed and battered by the grenadiers of the Duke of Ormond and the
guns of the British and Dutch ships under Sir George Rooke. Vigo won a
melancholy renown on that terrific day so long ago, and its blue waters
have a haunting interest even now, recalling the glory of the age of
the galleons and the wild romance of their voyaging from the Spanish
Main. Perhaps the ingenious Don Jose Pino, with his modern machinery,
may find the greatest treasure ever lost, certain as he is that "in dim
green depths rot ingot-laden ships, with gold doubloons that from the
drowned hand fell." At any rate, there is treasure-trove in the very
story of that fight in Vigo Bay, in the contrast between the timid,
blundering, procrastinating Spanish, afraid to leave their gold and
silver in the galleons, yet afraid to unload it; and the instant
decision of the English admiral who cared not a rap for the odds. His
business it was to smash the French fleet and destroy the plate ships,
and he went about it like the ready, indomitable sea dog that he was.

Among the English state papers is the manuscript log-book of the
captain of the Torbay, flag ship of Vice Admiral Hopson who led the
attack. This is how a fighting seaman of the old school disposed of so
momentous and severe a naval action as that of Vigo Bay, as if it were
no more than a common-place item in the day's work:

"This 24 hours little wind, the latter part much ra