array. As far as physique was
concerned the Dons were completely outclassed. Sallow and listless
from tropical fevers and loose living, they stood in sharp contrast to
the brawny, clear-skinned Englishmen. The difference was obvious even
to their own proud eyes, and they felt it.

No sooner were the Spaniards aboard than they fixed their gaze on the
group on the upper deck, and one thought prevailed in the minds of
all--"Which was the terrible Drake?"

Morgan stood out above his fellows by a good head, but surely he was
too young! The commandant had heard that Drake was no giant; he had
also heard--and half believed--that he had horns, hoof, and a tail.
The puzzle was solved. Captain Drake, short, burly, bearded,
black-haired, bull-throated, but blue-eyed, stood forward; his air was
unmistakably one of command. Master Jeffreys undertook the duties of
master of the ceremonies, and the commanders were introduced to each
other and gracefully bowed their acknowledgments of the honour.

The interview was short and formal. The Spaniard welcomed the
Englishmen, and hoped that the peace would not be broken. Captain
Drake echoed his hopes. The commandant offered presents of fruit,
wine, and fresh meat; the skipper accepted and requited the kindness in
suitable fashion. A few flagons of wine were drunk, and the interview
ended. The company aboard the _Golden Boar_ had no great opinion of
their visitors, but the visitors had a better one of them. They had
noted the spick and span order on shipboard, the bearing of the men,
and they did not forget the name of the captain--they only made the
mistake of confounding him with the great admiral, his brother.

Chapter XXXII.

A GLIMPSE OF THE FABLED CITY.

A week went by, and the _Golden Boar_ still lay in the bay of San
Joseph. Her captain and the Spanish commandant had exchanged many
civilities, and the latter was surprised that the fire-eating Drake had
committed no deed of violence. He suspected that some deep scheme lay
hidden behind all this appearance of friendliness and courtesy. His
suspicions were, in a measure, correct; he was wrong only in his idea
of the nature of the Englishman's plans. Double guards were set round
the fort each night, and the native chief was compelled to sleep within
its walls. Morning after morning the Spaniards awoke, surprised to
find that the hours of darkness had brought no sudden assault on the
fortress. The natives f