a
dozen smaller craft were together. Not a single merchant-ship was to be
seen, and the Lion, Borough's flag-ship, on which he was still a
prisoner, was missing too. Before leaving St. Vincent Drake had told
Walsingham that he ought to have at least six more cruisers to do his
work properly, and now two-thirds of what he had before were gone. Still
he held on, hoping to find some of the missing ships at the rendezvous
in the Azores.

On the morning of June 8th St. Michael's was sighted, but not a sail had
rejoined the flag except the Spy, one of the Queen's gunboats, with the
captain and master of the Lion on board, and they reported that the crew
of Borough's ship had mutinied and carried him home. Then, in the depth
of his disappointment, Drake's fury blazed out anew. His fierce
self-reliance and fanatic patriotism had taught him to see a traitor in
every man that opposed him, and the bitter experience of his lifelong
struggle against the enemies of his country and his creed could bring
him but to one conclusion--Borough was the traitor who had ruined the
greatest chance of his career! A jury was impanelled, the deserter tried
for his life, found guilty, and condemned to death.

It was little good except to relieve the admiral's anger. The splendid
opportunity was gone; the fruit of his brilliant exploit was snatched
from his lips; for, even had the remnant of his fleet been less
shattered than it was, the great convoys were beyond its strength. The
only hope was to hurry back to England and beg for reenforcements to
fight Santa Cruz for the life-blood of Spain.

Yet ere he sailed there was a consolation at hand. As he lay waiting for
his shattered squadron to close up, fuming at traitors, and marvelling
at the inscrutable will of Heaven, the dawn of June 9th lit up the gray
sea and showed him a huge carack in the offing. On a smart breeze he
gave chase. The carack kept her course, but, as Drake drew near, began
displaying her colors nervously. Drake made not a sign in reply, but
held on till he was within range. Then on a sudden, with a blaze of her
ensigns and her broadside, the Elizabeth Bonaventura told the stranger
what she was. Two of Drake's squadron threw themselves resolutely
athwart-hawse of the enemy, and the rest, plying her hard with shot,
prepared to run aboard her towering hull. But, ere they closed, her flag
fluttered sadly down, and the famous San Filippe, the King of Spain's
own East-Indiaman, th