But it was at Deptford, the principal depôt of the marine, that the greatest preparations against the expected invasion were in progress. Here were clearly at work the master-spirits of the age. Artificers, engineers, officers, mariners, and labourers were seen engaged in their various departments with the regularity of machines. The burring of furnaces, the ringing of anvils, the rattling of hammers, and the hilloing of sailors, as cannon were cast, balls moulded, and ships laid down or re-rigged, created so loud and confused a din, that sounds could hardly be distinguished, and the voice could only be heard when raised to its highest pitch. Pushing past various groups of officers and mariners, Sir Walter and Hildebrand proceeded straight to the office of the Lord Admiral, Lord Howard of Effingham, in the chief dock-yard. On sending that officer his name, Sir Walter was ordered to be admitted; and under the guidance of the porter, he repaired, together with Hildebrand, to the Admiral’s presence. There were two personages in the room to which they were conducted. One of them, who was no other than the Lord Admiral, was an elderly man, of rather tall stature, and a grave, but commanding presence. The other was little beyond the middle age; and but for his laced jerkin, which spoke him an officer, would hardly have been looked upon as a gentleman. Although, however, his stature was mean, and his manners far from graceful, there was a certain touch of daring in his face, especially in his eye, that quickly won him attention, and even gave him a look of authority. His features, moreover, were so familiar to Englishmen, from the respect which was paid to them by the sign-boards of taverns, and other places of resort, that they required no beauty to recommend them to notice, but commanded admiration by their very plainness. He was Sir Francis Drake. The two admirals rose as Sir Walter entered, and extended their hands to welcome him. “My Lord Admiral, how is it with you?” cried Sir Walter, taking his proffered hand. “Sir Francis,” he added, as he extended that personage his other hand, “give thee the fair time of day!” “Fair time enough, Sir Walter,” replied Drake. “’Tis but little past six bells.” “Sir Walter wishes thee a fair day,” said the Lord Admiral, in explanation of Sir Walter’s greeting. “Marry, come up, but methought he spoke to the clock!” cried Drake. “Howsomever, the day is a fair one, though it blows marvellous slack. I’ve seen windier days.” “Ay, ay, doubtless,” observed Sir Walter, laughing. “But, my Lord Admiral,” he continued, turning to that officer, “I have brought thee the captain of the ‘Eliza,’ who was so heartily preferred to thy favour by her Highness.”