3rd SAILOR. Gale be damned! It has been a thunder storm with iron for hail! No wind or waves ever did that damage. Those bulwarks have shot holes in them, man. Some Spaniard has got the worst of it, with that Falcon. HAWKINS. What think you of her, Bill Carvell? Have you any guess? CARVELL. I am quite out of my reckoning, and yet I think she is no stranger. But you see her spars are so handled, and the main is only a jury mast. HAWKINS. I imagine somehow, I know the sheer of her gunwale, and the manner in which the foremost is stepped, (_Aside to himself_), can it be? (_Shouts of_ “_The Judith_, _The Judith_.” _Tremendous cheering_). Yes it is! It is the Judith and Francis Drake, if he is alive. _The cheering and rushing about increases_. _Shouts of hurrah for the Judith_. _Hurrah for_ DRAKE. _Hurrah for_ HAWKINS! _Down with the Spaniards_. CARVELL (_to_ HAWKINS). Right, Captain, I thank God for one of them. See how the privateers gather round her. Hurrah my boys. Stand by to lend her a hand. (_He runs about_). Get a hausser to the shore and help her round the pier. (_The hausser is handed up_. _He and others lay hold of it and run pulling_). Hurrah, men, with a run. _The vessel is hauled alongside_, DRAKE _is handed up and presented to the people amidst tremendous cheers_, _congratulations and confusion_. _Shouts of Hurrah for_ DRAKE. CROWD. Hurrah for Drake. (DRAKE _after grasping a hand or two shakes them off_). DRAKE (_with excitement_). Bear with me, friends! Bear with me! (_He prostrates himself on the earth_, _kisses it with devoted fondness_, _then rising on one knee addresses it with gesticulations of emotion_). Land of my birth! Land of my love! Land of my duty! Blessed England. Once more I press thee. Sacred be thy soil, I love thy very dust. Thus, (_kissing the ground_), thus (_again kissing it_), I greet thee. Land of the brave, land of the free! Tyrants may have trampled thy fields. Fierce passions and civic strife, like the rage of fire, have scorched thy loveliness, devoured thy people. Red hast thou been with brothers’ blood, the blood of Patriots and Martyrs. Still thou wert ever glorious. Sanctuary of Liberty and Law, who would not die for thee? Sacred be thy soil, may I perish ere the foot of the invader shall degrade thee. (_He is interrupted with excitement_, _friends press round him_, _raise him up and embrace him_. _He is much excited_). CROWD (_with violence_), Invade us? Never! Never shall that be. TOM COBHAM (_fiercely_). Accursed be the slave who could outlive the insult. Never shall they touch dry land. We’ll show them the road to the bottom of the channel. Let them invade that. (_Shouts of indignation_, _and_ A Cobham! A Cobham.) SAILOR. Hurrah for Cobham! He knows how to bury a Spaniard. CROWD, Hurrah! A Cobham! A Cobham.