Sir Arthur Champernowne was not called on to sacrifice himself in such peculiar fashion, and a better expedient was found to secure Alva’s money.  The bullion was landed and was brought to London by road on the plea that the seas were unsafe.  It was carried to the Tower, and when it was once inside the walls it was found to remain the property of the Genoese until it was delivered at Antwerp.  The Genoese agent in London was as willing to lend it to Elizabeth as to Philip, and indeed preferred the security.  Elizabeth calmly said that she had herself occasion for money, and would accept their offer.  Half of it was sent to the Prince of Orange; half was spent on the Queen’s navy.

Alva was of course violently angry.  He arrested every English ship in the Low Countries.  He arrested every Englishman that he could catch, and sequestered all English property.  Elizabeth retaliated in kind.  The Spanish and Flemish property taken in England proved to be worth double what had been secured by Alva.  Philip could not declare war.  The Netherlands insurrection was straining his resources, and with Elizabeth for an open enemy the whole weight of England would have been thrown on the side of the Prince of Orange.  Elizabeth herself should have declared war, people say, instead of condescending to such tricks.  Perhaps so; but also perhaps not.  These insults, steadily maintained and unresented, shook the faith of mankind, and especially of her own sailors, in the invincibility of the Spanish colossus.

I am now to turn to another side of the subject.  The stories which I have told you show the temper of the time, and the atmosphere which men were breathing, but it will be instructive to look more closely at individual persons, and I will take first John Hawkins (afterwards Sir John), a peculiarly characteristic figure.

The Hawkinses of Plymouth were a solid middle-class Devonshire family, who for two generations had taken a leading part in the business of the town.  They still survive in the county—­Achins we used to call them before school pronunciation came in, and so Philip wrote the name when the famous John began to trouble his dreams.  I have already spoken of old William Hawkins, John’s father, whom Henry VIII. was so fond of, and who brought over the Brazilian King.  Old William had now retired and had left his place and his work to his son.  John Hawkins may have been about thirty at Elizabeth’s accession.  He had witnessed the wild times of Edward VI. and Mary, but, though many of his friends had taken to the privateering business, Hawkins appears to have kept clear of it, and continued steadily at trade.  One of these friends, and his contemporary, and in fact his near relation, was Thomas Stukely, afterwards so notorious—­and a word may be said of Stukely’s career as a contrast to that of Hawkins.  He was a younger son of a leading county family, went to London to seek his fortune, and became a hanger-on of Sir Thomas Seymour.