Spanish commander, the bishop, and most of the people fled, as at Vigo, into the mountains with their plate and money.  Carlile entered without opposition, and flew St. George’s Cross from the castle as a signal to the fleet.  Drake came in, landed the rest of his force, and took possession.  It happened to be the 17th of November—­the anniversary of the Queen’s accession—­and ships and batteries, dressed out with English flags, celebrated the occasion with salvoes of cannon.  Houses and magazines were then searched and plundered.  Wine was found in large quantities, rich merchandise for the Indian trade, and other valuables.  Of gold and silver nothing—­it had all been removed.  Drake waited for a fortnight, hoping that the Spaniards would treat for the ransom of the city.  When they made no sign, he marched twelve miles inland to a village where the Governor and the bishop were said to have taken refuge.  But the village was found deserted.  The Spaniards had gone to the mountains, where it was useless to follow them, and were too proud to bargain with a pirate chief.  Sant Iago was a beautifully built city, and Drake would perhaps have spared it; but a ship-boy who had strayed was found murdered and barbarously mutilated.  The order was given to burn.  Houses, magazines, churches, public buildings were turned to ashes, and the work being finished Drake went on, as Santa Cruz expected, for the Spanish West Indies.  The Spaniards were magnificent in all that they did and touched.  They built their cities in their new possessions on the most splendid models of the Old World.  St. Domingo and Carthagena had their castles and cathedrals, palaces, squares, and streets, grand and solid as those at Cadiz and Seville, and raised as enduring monuments of the power and greatness of the Castilian monarchs.  To these Drake meant to pay a visit.  Beyond them was the Isthmus, where he had made his first fame and fortune, with Panama behind, the depot of the Indian treasure.  So far all had gone well with him.  He had taken what he wanted out of Vigo; he had destroyed Sant Iago and had not lost a man.  Unfortunately he had now a worse enemy to deal with than Spanish galleons or Spanish garrisons.  He was in the heat of the tropics.  Yellow fever broke out and spread through the fleet.  Of those who caught the infection few recovered, or recovered only to be the wrecks of themselves.  It was swift in its work.  In a few days more than two hundred had died.  But the north-east trade blew merrily.  The fleet sped on before it.  In eighteen days they were in the roads at Dominica, the island of brooks and rivers and fruit.  Limes and lemons and oranges were not as yet.  But there were leaves and roots of the natural growth, known to the Caribs as antidotes to the fever, and the Caribs, when they learnt that the English were the Spaniards’ enemies, brought them this precious remedy and taught them the use of it.  The ships were washed and ventilated, and the water casks refilled.  The infection seemed to have gone as suddenly as it appeared, and again all was well.