orecastle, where Drake, sitting on a
sea-chest with a pair of _pantoufles_ in his hand, excommunicated him,
pronounced him cut off from the Church of God, given over to the devil
for the chastising of his flesh, and left him chained by the leg to a
ring-bolt to repent of his cowardice.

In the general good-humour punishment could not be of long duration. The
next day the poor chaplain had his absolution, and returned to his berth
and his duty. The _Pelican_ met with no more adventures. Sweeping in
fine clear weather round the Cape of Good Hope, she touched once for
water at Sierra Leone, and finally sailed in triumph into Plymouth
Harbour, where she had been long given up for lost, having traced the
first furrow round the globe. Winter had come home eighteen months
before, but could report nothing. The news of the doings on the American
coast had reached England through Madrid. The Spanish ambassador had
been furious. It was known that Spanish squadrons had been sent in
search. Complications would arise if Drake brought his plunder home, and
timid politicians hoped that he was at the bottom of the sea. But here
he was, actually arrived with a monarch's ransom in his hold.

English sympathy with an extraordinary exploit is always irresistible.
Shouts of applause rang through the country, and Elizabeth, every bit of
her an Englishwoman, felt with her subjects. She sent for Drake to
London, made him tell his story over and over again, and was never weary
of listening to him. As to injury to Spain, Philip had lighted a fresh
insurrection in Ireland, which had cost her dearly in lives and money.
For Philip to demand compensation of England on the score of justice was
a thing to make the gods laugh.

So thought the Queen. So unfortunately did not think some members of her
Council, Lord Burghley among them. Mendoza was determined that Drake
should be punished and the spoils disgorged, or else that he would force
Elizabeth upon the world as the confessed protectress of piracy.
Burghley thought that, as things stood, some satisfaction (or the form
of it) would have to be made.

Elizabeth hated paying back as heartily as Falstaff, nor had she the
least intention of throwing to the wolves a gallant Englishman, with
whose achievements the world was ringing. She was obliged to allow the
treasure to be registered by a responsible official, and an account
rendered to Mendoza; but for all that she meant to keep her own share of
the