t statement, reported to James in his need, was enough to fire his
cupidity, and when Ralegh had further added that he would guarantee
to the Crown one-fifth of the treasure without asking any contribution
towards the adventure either in money or in ships, he was permitted to
come forth and prepare for the expedition.

His friends came to his assistance, and in March of 1617 he set sail for
El Dorado with a well-manned and well-equipped fleet of fourteen ships,
the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke standing sureties for his return.

From the outset the fates were unpropitious. Disaster closed the
adventure. Gondomar, the Ambassador of Spain at Whitehall, too
well-informed of what was afoot, had warned his master. Spanish ships
waited to frustrate Sir Walter, who was under pledge to avoid all
conflict with the forces of King Philip. But conflict there was, and
bloodshed in plenty, about the city of Manoa, which the Spaniards held
as the key to the country into which the English adventurers sought
to penetrate. Among the slain were the Governor of Manoa, who was
Gondomar's own brother, and Sir Walter's eldest son.

To Ralegh, waiting at the mouth of the Orinoco, came his beaten forces
in retreat, with the terrible news of a happening that meant his
ruin. Half-maddened, his anguish increased by the loss of his boy, he
upbraided them so fiercely that Keymis, who had been in charge of
the expedition, shut himself up in his cabin and shot himself with
a pocket-pistol. Mutiny followed, and Whitney--most trusted of Sir
Walter's captains--set sail for England, being followed by six other
ships of that fleet, which meanwhile had been reduced to twelve. With
the remaining five the stricken Sir Walter had followed more at leisure.
What need to hurry? Disgrace, and perhaps death, awaited him in England.
He knew the power of Spain with James, who was so set upon a Spanish
marriage for his heir, knew Spain's hatred of himself, and what
eloquence it would gather in the mouth of Gondomar, intent upon avenging
his brother's death.

He feared the worst, and so was glad upon landing to have by him a
kinsman upon whom he could lean for counsel and guidance in this the
darkest hour of all his life. Sitting late that night in the library of
Sir Christopher Hare's house, Sir Walter told his cousin in detail the
story of his misadventure, and confessed to his misgivings.

"My brains are broken," was his cry.

Stukeley combed his beard in th