is way back into Magellan's Straits. There he lay for
three weeks, lighting fires nightly to show Drake where he was, but no
Drake appeared. They had agreed, if separated, to meet on the coast in
the latitude of Valparaiso; but Winter was chicken-hearted, or else
traitorous like Doughty, and sore, we are told, 'against the mariners'
will,' when the three weeks were out, he sailed away for England, where
he reported that all the ships were lost but the _Pelican_, and that
the _Pelican_ was probably lost too.

Drake had believed better of Winter, and had not expected to be so
deserted. He had himself taken refuge among the islands which form the
Cape, waiting for the spring and milder weather. He used the time in
making surveys, and observing the habits of the native Patagonians, whom
he found a tough race, going naked amidst ice and snow. The days
lengthened, and the sea smoothed at last. He then sailed for Valparaiso,
hoping to meet Winter there, as he had arranged. At Valparaiso there was
no Winter, but there was in the port instead a great galleon just come
in from Peru. The galleon's crew took him for a Spaniard, hoisted their
colours, and beat their drums. The _Pelican_ shot alongside. The English
sailors in high spirits leapt on board. A Plymouth lad who could speak
Spanish knocked down the first man he met with an 'Abajo, perro!' 'Down,
you dog, down!' No life was taken; Drake never hurt man if he could help
it. The crew crossed themselves, jumped overboard, and swam ashore. The
prize was examined. Four hundred pounds' weight of gold was found in
her, besides other plunder.

The galleon being disposed of, Drake and his men pulled ashore to look
at the town. The people had all fled. In the church they found a
chalice, two cruets, and an altar-cloth, which were made over to the
chaplain to improve his Communion furniture. A few pipes of wine and a
Greek pilot who knew the way to Lima completed the booty.

'Shocking piracy,' you will perhaps say. But what Drake was doing would
have been all right and good service had war been declared, and the
essence of things does not alter with the form. In essence there _was_
war, deadly war, between Philip and Elizabeth. Even later, when the
Armada sailed, there had been no formal declaration. The reality is the
important part of the matter. It was but stroke for stroke, and the
English arm proved the stronger.

Still hoping to find Winter in advance of him, Drake went on nex