Sing a song of stout dubloons,
Of gold and jingling brass,
A song of Spanish galleons,
Foul-bottomed as they pass.
Of roaring blades and stumbling mules,
Of casks of malmsey wine,
Of red, rip-roaring ruffians,
In a thin, meandering line.

_They're with Drake, Drake, Drake,_
_He can make the sword hilt's shake,_
_He's a rattling, battling Captain of the Main._
_You can see the Spaniards shiver,_
_As he nears their shelt'ring river,_
_While his eyelids never quiver_
_At the slain._

So,--
Here's to Drake, Drake, Drake,
Come--make the welkin shake,
And raise your frothing glasses up on high.
If you love a man and devil,
Who can treat you on the level,
Then, clink your goblet's bevel,
To Captain Drake.

"Take care, boy, you will fall overboard. Take care and do not play
with your brother near the edge of our good ship, for the water here
is deep, and I know that you can swim but ill."

The man who spoke was a rough, grizzled sea-dog, clad in an old
jersey and tarpaulins. He stood upon the deck of an aged, dismantled
warship, which--anchored in the shallow water near Chatham,
England,--swung to and fro in the eddying currents. Around him, upon
the unwashed deck, scampered a swarm of little children, twelve in
all, and all of them his own.

"Very good, Father," spoke the curly-haired youngster. "I'll mind what
you tell me. You're wrong, though, when you say that I cannot swim,
for I can, even to yonder shore. Do you want to see me do it?"

"Nay, nay," chuckled the stout seaman. "You're a boy of courage,
Francis. That I can well see. But do not try the water. It is cold and
you will have a cramp and go under. Stick to the quarter-deck." And
laughing softly to himself, he went below, where a strong smell of
cooking showed that there was something upon the galley stove to feed
his hungry crew of youthful Englishmen.

It was surely a strange house to bring up a troop of merry children
in. The sound of wind and waves was familiar to them at night and they
grew to be strong and fearless. But is not this the proper way to rear
a sea-dog?

These little ducklings, descended from a Drake, must have early set
their hearts upon adventure and a seafaring life. In fact, one of
them, young Francis, was to be one of the best known seamen of the
centuries and knighted for his services to the Crown. Reare