whose interest in the work appears to have died with him, presently began his preparations for another voyage. He had already attracted the notice of Burghley ; through Essex he had become acquainted with Sir Christopher Hatton [q. v.], and had been permitted to recount some of his experiences to the queen herself. It is probable enough that she received him graciously. His adventures, his daring, his success, were so many passports to her favour, and there is no reason to doubt that, in ambiguous and courtly phrases, she encouraged him to further enterprise; but it is in the highest degree unlikely that, before a stranger to her court, she laid aside her dissimulation and gave a formal commission for reprisals to a man whose repute was that of an unscrupulous adventurer. Such a commission could not have been kept secret, and would have been considered by Spain as tantamount to a declaration of war. Still less can we accept the story that, knowing, as she certainly did know, that he was proposing a voyage which must bring him into conflict with the Spaniards, she said to him, `I account that he who striketh thee, Drake, striketh me.' Any such speech, if possible—and it is not Elizabethan in its sound—could only have been uttered at a much later period, and most probably in reference to private rather than to public enemies (cf. Barrow, p. 78 ; Burney, Hist. of Discoveries in the South Sea, i. 304).
The squadron which Drake now got together consisted of his own ship, the Pelican of 100 tons, the Elizabeth of 80 tons, commanded by Captain John Wynter, and three smaller vessels—the Marigold, Swan, and Christopher. These were well stored and provisioned, and carried, as in the former voyage, some pinnaces in pieces, to be set up when occasion served. ` Neither had he omitted to make provision also for ornament and delight, carrying to this purpose with him expert musicians, rich furniture (all the vessels for his table, yea, many belonging even to the cook room, being of pure silver), and divers shows of all sorts of curious workmanship, whereby the civility and magnificence of his native country might, amongst all nations whithersoever he should come, be the more admired' (Vaux, p. 7). It was 13 Dec. 1577 when they finally sailed from Plymouth. The object of the voyage had been carefully concealed, in order that the Spaniards might not be forewarned. The Mediterranean had been spoken of, and his men seem to have fancied that that was their destination. The Spaniards believed rather that it was the West Indies, with an eye to Nombre de Dios and the Treasure of the World. It was not till they had passed the Cape Verd islands that the men learnt that they were bound to the coast of Brazil, and that their next rendezvous was the River Plate. Shortly after leaving St. Iago they fell in with and detained two Portuguese ships, one of which was released with all the prisoners except the pilot, Nuno de Silva, whom they carried off, and who, apparently nothing loth, rendered them good service on the voyage. The other Portuguese ship they took with them as a victualler, the command of her being given to one Thomas Doughty, whose name appears for the first time in this connection. He had till then no command in the squadron, was not a seafaring man, but had some interest in the adventure, and seems to have accompanied Drake as a volunteer, or, to some extent, a personal friend. Within a few days there were complaints of Doughty's conduct in the prize ; he was accused ot having appropriated objects of value ; and Drake, thinking apparently that the charge arose out of some private pique, sent Doughty for a time to the Pelican, appointing his own brother, Thomas, to the command of the prize, and himself staying with him. In the Pelican Doughty had no better fortune, and, on complaints of his having abused his authority, he was deposed and sent to the Swan, either in a private capacity or as a prisoner at large. The whole account is exceedingly obscure, but there is reason to believe that this deposition rankled in Doughty's mind, and suggested to him to attempt to stir up a mutiny, and either force Drake to return, or depose, maroon, or kill him, and seize on the command of the expedition. All that we know with certainty is that when the squadron, after touching in the Plate, arrived at St. Julian, Doughty was put under arrest, was tried, found guilty, condemned to death, and executed (ib. pp. 65, 235). The story is related by different witnesses, real or pretended, with the widest difference of details; some of them accusing Drake of virtually murdering Doughty, either as jealous of his superior abilities or at the behest of the Earl of Leicester (ib. p. 201 ; Camden, ii. 355). The account of Cooke, the most virulent of these accusers, is written throughout in a tone of venomous spite, and contains so many misstatements and contradictions that it is a matter of surprise Mr. Vaux should have attributed to it so much importance as he has; and for the rest, the mere fact that, though no secret was afterwards made of the case in England, and it was freely talked about (Barrow, p. 251). Drake's conduct was never formally called
