the pirate's head. A Spanish force landed that
very week in Ireland. Burleigh and the peace party were desperate. All
that Mendoza could get out of Elizabeth was an order to Edmund Tremayne
at Plymouth to register the cargo of the _Golden Hynde_ and send it up
to London that she might see how much the pirate had really taken. At
the same time Drake himself went down with her private letter to
Tremayne telling him to look another way while her captain got his share
of the bullion. Meanwhile she suggested that Philip call his Spaniards
out of Ireland. Philip snarled that they were private volunteers.
Elizabeth replied, so was Drake. An inquiry was held, and not a single
act of cruelty or destruction of property could be proved against any of
Drake's crews. The men were richly rewarded by their Admiral; the
_Golden Hynde_ came up to Deptford; a list of the plunder was returned
to Mendoza; and London waited, excited and curious.

Out of this diplomatic tangle Elizabeth took her own way, as she usually
did. On April 4, 1581, she suggested to Drake that she would be his
guest at a banquet on board the little, worm-eaten ship. All the court
was there, and a multitude of on-lookers besides, for those were the
days when royalty sometimes dined in public. After the banquet, the
like of which, as Mendoza wrote his master, had not been seen in England
since the time of her father, Elizabeth requested Drake to hand her the
sword she had given him before he left England. "The King of Spain
demands the head of Captain Drake," she said with a little laugh, "and
here am I to strike it off." As Drake knelt at her command she handed
the sword to Marchaumont, the envoy of her French suitor, asking that
since she was a woman and not trained to the use of weapons, he should
give the accolade. This open defiance of Philip thus involved in her
action the second Catholic power of Europe before all the world. Then,
as Marchaumont gave the three strokes appointed the Queen spoke out
clearly, while men thrilled with sudden presage of great days to come,--

"Rise up,--Sir Francis Drake!"

A WATCH-DOG OF ENGLAND

Where the Russian Bear stirs blindly in the leash of a mailed hand,
Bright in the frozen sunshine, the domes of Moscow stand,

Scarlet and blue and crimson, blazing across the snow
As they did in the Days of Terror, three hundred years ago.

Courtiers bending before him, envoys from near and far,
Sat i