But they sighted Ireland at last, and ran the old ship on shore near Berehaven on the 11th of June 1593. From Berehaven Captain Davis sailed in a fishing-boat to Padstow in Cornwall--thinking, no doubt, of wife and children, and the silver Dart, and the comforts of a happy home, ruined man though he was. As he drew near the familiar groves and fields, was it fancy? or did his neighbours shrink from his approach? Could they have heard the news of his ill success, and were they ashamed of him already? "Ah! there is Adrian, old friend and true! he will welcome me home!" "John--John Davis! how thou art changed, lad! Hast heard the heavy news?" "No--surely my dear wife be not taken by the pestilence?" "Better an she were, John. A scoundrel named Milburne has been here while you were on the seas, and has run away with her--robbed you of your beloved Faith." The shock was so great, the explorer could not speak for some minutes. Then, in a faltering voice: "The children, Adrian? be they in the old home?" "Yea, lad, under the care of a good soul. God help you, John!" The two friends grasped hands, and Davis said low to himself: "Robbed me of my Faith! Dear Lord in heaven, I have yet faith--faith in Thee; and that shall be my last anchor, blow what gales there may in a naughty night!" So the brave, God-fearing seaman tried to take comfort in his heavy hour, tried to laugh and be merry with his boys, and tried to make excuses for the woman who had deserted him for a handsome coiner of false money. But the neighbours shook their heads as they saw him pace along the river in the gloaming, with downcast eyes and slow stride. "I doubt Master John will never command another ship!"--that was the general opinion. Captain Davis was recovering health and good spirits at Sandridge when, one afternoon in March 1594, the postman came, blowing his horn, and delivered him a letter from his good friend, Sir Walter Raleigh, from Sherborne Castle. A letter in those days asked some careful reading, handwriting was so varied and spelling so abnormal. So John sat in an arbour from which he could look over the shining reaches of the Dart, and straightened out the paper. What was this strange news? "A warrant is out against thee, John, for some illegal practices which a man named Milburne has accused thee of. I would thou shouldst hasten up to London, calling here on thy way." Illegal practices! John Davis knew nought of any such; but he packed his travelling satchel, and ordered his man to bring round the bay gelding. In vain! he had hardly ridden a hundred yards when a pursuivant intercepted him and carried him in custody to Dartmouth.