d the next morning named for the British evacuation of
Christendom, needs must pass the usual courtesies between the then
stateliest people of Cartagena and the bluntest. Alonzo Brava, in all
honesty, invited to supper with him in his dismantled citadel Sir
Francis Drake, Sir John Nevil, and all officers and gentlemen within the
English forces. Drake as frankly accepted the courtesy for himself and
all who might be spared from the final labors of the night.

In the late evening, by a stormy light which, seen through the high,
wide, and open windows, seemed to pit itself against the approaching
darkness, Brava, motioning to right and left, seated himself with his
principal guests at the head of the table, while his chamberlains busied
themselves with serving the turn of lesser names. Captains and
officers, gentlemen and volunteers of wealth and birth, fell into place,
while the end of the table left was for needier adventurers, scapegrace
and out-at-elbow volunteers. Noiseless attendants went to and fro. Great
numbers of candles, large as torches, were lighted, but the prolonged
orange glare which entered the western windows seemed to have some
quality distinct from light, by virtue of which men's features were not
clearly seen. Distant thunder rolled, but when it passed one heard from
the gallery above the hall Spanish music. The feast marched on in
triumph, much as it might have done in any camp (where Famine was not
King) beneath any flag of truce. Here the viands were in quantity, and
there was wine to spill even after friend and foe had been loudly
pledged. Free men, sea-rovers, and soldiers of fortune, it was for them
no courtier's banquet. Only the presence at table of their leaders kept
the wassail down. Now and again the thunder shook the hall, making all
sounds beneath its own as the shrilling of a cicada; then, the long roll
past, the music took new heart, while below it went on the laughter and
the soldier wit, babble of sore wounds, of camp-fires, and high-decked
ships--tales wild and grim or broadly humorous. At the cross-table
opposite and a little below Sir John Nevil, who was seated at Brava's
left hand, was a vacant seat. It awaited (the Governor explained) the
envoy whom he had sent out to hardly gather the remainder of the ransom
of Cartagena. The length, the heat, and danger of the journey had
outwearied the envoy, who was a gentleman of as great a girth as spirit.
Later, despite his indisposition, he