"Which by Royal Decree I have the pleasure to announce to you for your knowledge and satisfaction. May God preserve you for many years." This long-winded proclamation seems faintly to echo of another and far distant day "appertaining to the galleons which came from America," that day on which the news of the catastrophe was received in the palace of Madrid. Gabriel de Savoy, the child queen, then only fourteen years old and wed to Philip V, heard the tidings of the battle of Vigo Bay, "on the day and hour which was fixed upon for her to go in public to give thanks to the Virgin of Atocha for the triumphs of the king, and to place in that temple the banners captured from the enemy in Italy. This wise lady lamented bitterly such fatal news, but not wishing to discourage and afflict her people, she put on courage, and resolving to go forth presented herself with so serene a countenance as to impose upon all, who were astonished at her courage, and the ceremony was performed as if nothing had happened." Vigo to-day is a pretty and thriving town of 30,000 people, with a large trade by sea, and fertile fields stretching between bay and mountain. Round about are the ancient forts and castles which were stormed and battered by the grenadiers of the Duke of Ormond and the guns of the British and Dutch ships under Sir George Rooke. Vigo won a melancholy renown on that terrific day so long ago, and its blue waters have a haunting interest even now, recalling the glory of the age of the galleons and the wild romance of their voyaging from the Spanish Main. Perhaps the ingenious Don Jose Pino, with his modern machinery, may find the greatest treasure ever lost, certain as he is that "in dim green depths rot ingot-laden ships, with gold doubloons that from the drowned hand fell." At any rate, there is treasure-trove in the very story of that fight in Vigo Bay, in the contrast between the timid, blundering, procrastinating Spanish, afraid to leave their gold and silver in the galleons, yet afraid to unload it; and the instant decision of the English admiral who cared not a rap for the odds. His business it was to smash the French fleet and destroy the plate ships, and he went about it like the ready, indomitable sea dog that he was. Among the English state papers is the manuscript log-book of the captain of the Torbay, flag ship of Vice Admiral Hopson who led the attack. This is how a fighting seaman of the old school disposed of so momentous and severe a naval action as that of Vigo Bay, as if it were no more than a common-place item in the day's work: