And yet he was not to see it, for when there was but five fathoms of water between the Spanish keels and the Dutch mud the north-wester dropped to a calm, a fresh south-wester sprang up in its place, and for the fourth time in seven days the Armada was saved from utter destruction by those fickle winds to which a pious sentiment has ascribed its ruin. Down went the Spanish helms, and round came the dripping, labouring, Spanish prows, and ere long all that was left of King Philip’s fleet was staggering away to the northward to begin that awful voyage round the north of Scotland and past the wild Irish coast from which so few were to return. Meanwhile the Little Pirate hung on to the heels of the flying Armada for two days and nights, until at length a tempest came rolling up over the Dogger Bank, and he ran in for safety under the Scottish shore, cheerfully leaving the Dons to the winds of heaven, and the rocks that were waiting to finish what his own guns had begun. With the victory of Gravelines, Drake’s work as an Empire-maker comes to an end. The expedition to Portugal, for all its booty, was a failure and did nothing to enhance his fame. If his advice had been taken Spain might have been crushed and humbled for ever, but such was the hopeless weakness and vacillation at Court that, even after the Armada had shown her the true designs of Philip, Gloriana got into negotiations with him again. Over and over again her Little Pirate besought her to give him the means of striking the blow that should crush Spain and make England undisputed mistress of the seas, but it was not to be, and so at length, sick and sore at heart, he sailed away again to his beloved West, never to return. There is nothing in this last expedition of his that is noteworthy save its continued misfortunes. It seemed as though when the little _Revenge_ went down, as she did in the midst of the fifty-three Spanish ships which she had fought “for a day and a night,” she had taken her old commander’s good luck down with her. At last on the deadly island of Escudo de Veragua the two guardian demons of El Dorado, fever and dysentry, struck him down with many another of his men. He lived to get away, but not for long, and six days afterwards, when his fleet came to anchor off Puerto Bello, the heroic Little Pirate breathed his last and his gallant soul went to its account, passing away from earth on the very spot that had been the scene of his first sea-fight and his first victory. IV _OLIVER CROMWELL_ “_HEALER AND SETTLER_” IV OLIVER CROMWELL “He is perhaps the only example which history affords of one man having governed the most opposite events and proved sufficient for the most various destinies.”