He told no one where he was going.  He was no more communicative than necessary after his return, and the results, rather than the particulars, of his adventure are all that can be certainly known.  Discretion told him to keep his counsel, and he kept it.

The Drake family published an account of this voyage in the middle of the next century, but obviously mythical, in parts demonstrably false, and nowhere to be depended on.  It can be made out, however, that he did go to Nombre de Dios, that he found his way into the town, and saw stores of bullion there which he would have liked to carry off but could not.  A romantic story of a fight in the town I disbelieve, first because his numbers were so small that to try force would have been absurd, and next because if there had been really anything like a battle an alarm would have been raised in the neighbourhood, and it is evident that no alarm was given.  In the woods were parties of runaway slaves, who were called Cimarons.  It was to these that Drake addressed himself, and they volunteered to guide him where he could surprise the treasure convoy on the way from Panama.  His movements were silent and rapid.  One interesting incident is mentioned which is authentic.  The Cimarons took him through the forest to the watershed from which the streams flow to both oceans.  Nothing could be seen through the jungle of undergrowth; but Drake climbed a tall tree, saw from the top of it the Pacific glittering below him, and made a vow that one day he would himself sail a ship in those waters.

For the present he had immediate work on hand.  His guides kept their word.  They led him to the track from Panama, and he had not long to wait before the tinkling was heard of the mule bells as they were coming up the pass.  There was no suspicion of danger, not the faintest.  The mule train had but its ordinary guard, who fled at the first surprise.  The immense booty fell all into Drake’s hands—­gold, jewels, silver bars—­and got with much ease, as Prince Hal said at Gadshill.  The silver they buried, as too heavy for transport.  The gold, pearls, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds they carried down straight to their ship.  The voyage home went prosperously.  The spoils were shared among the adventurers, and they had no reason to complain.  They were wise enough to hold their tongues, and Drake was in a condition to look about him and prepare for bigger enterprises.

Rumours got abroad, spite of reticence.  Imagination was high in flight just then; rash amateurs thought they could make their fortunes in the same way, and tried it, to their sorrow.  A sort of inflation can be traced in English sailors’ minds as their work expanded.  Even Hawkins—­the clear, practical Hawkins—­was infected.  This was not in Drake’s line.  He kept to prose and fact.  He studied the globe.  He examined all the charts that he could get.  He became known to the Privy Council and the Queen, and prepared for an enterprise which would make his name and frighten Philip in earnest.