The most momentous of all his commissions, especially to his own country, was in 1587, when he destroyed a hundred ships in Cadiz Harbour.  It was a fine piece of work, this “singeing of the King of Spain’s beard” as he called it, and by far excelled anything he had previously done.  He captured the San Philip, the King of Spain’s ship, which was the largest afloat.  Her cargo was valued at over one million sterling, in addition to which papers were found on board revealing the wealth of the East India trade.  The knowledge of this soon found a company of capitalists, who formed the East India Company, out of which our great Indian Empire was established.  When the San Philip was towed into Dartmouth Harbour, and when it became known generally, the whole country was ablaze with excitement, and people travelled from far and near to see the leviathan.

Drake bore himself on this occasion with that sober modesty that characterized him always under any circumstances.  His reputation stood higher now than ever, and it was no detriment to him that Philip should shudder, and when he became virtuously agitated speak of him as “that fearful man Drake.”  Everywhere he was a formidable reality, strong, forbidding and terrible; his penetrating spirit saw through the plans of the enemies of his country and his vigorous counter-measures were invariably successful.  The exalted part he took in the defeat of the Armada has been briefly referred to in another part of this book.  He was then at the height of his imposing magnificence and fame, but owing to the caprice of his royal mistress, who had an insatiable habit of venting her Tudor temper indiscriminately, he fell under her displeasure, and for a time was in disgrace; but she soon discovered that his services, whatever his lack of success on apparently rash enterprises may have been, were indispensable at so critical a moment.  He was recalled, and soon after sent on his melancholy last voyage.  He had worn himself out in the service of his country.  Born at Tavistock in 1539, his eager spirit passed into the shadows off Puerto Bello on the 28th January, 1596, and, as previously stated, he was buried three miles out at sea, and two of his prizes were sunk and laid beside him.

The following beautiful lines of Sir Henry Newbolt not only describe his patriotic and heroic end, but breathe the very spirit of the man who was one of the most striking figures of the Elizabethan age:—­

Drake’s drum.

3rd Verse: 

    Drake, he’s in his hammock till the great Armadas come,
    (Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below?)
    Slung atween the round shot, listenin’ for the drum,
    An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. 
    Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
    Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;
    Where the old trade’s plyin’, and the old flag flyin’,
    They shall find him ware an’ wakin’,
    As they found him long ago!