In the cross-chop, the last laden shallow draft pinnace came up alongside the Pelican with a little more way on than needed and slammed roughly into the ships broad side before secure under the jury rigged gantry. Rubbing their hands together to take off the chill of the dawn winds, the hands on the quarter deck heaved in and swung the large burlap-wrapped flats from the pinnace up to the rail and over, steadying the gantry head with staying pressure on the steering ropes.

The gangboss called "Way, 'nuff, lads!!" and the tackle paid out depositing the large flat on the deck, where other hands heaved it to the hatches and storage deep below, neatly laid out centrally. As they lifted the flat from the decks their muscles bulged with effort. It was plain the packages contained something much denser than ship's stores or fine linens.

From the rail of the high poop, the Captain watch the final lighting with satisafaction.

"Strap 'em down well, laddies!", he called out. "With theblessings of God, if the Queen keeps her hold on the throne until we retrun to England, you'll be rich men when we clear Sheerness, buckos. Her heart may be one place, but our silver will whistle it up handsome!"

The crude laughter of men with their eyes on money floated up to him in rejoinder. As the last rough ingot was swung down into the hold, Francis Drake nodded happily, showing his teeth in grim satisfaction which thibnly disguised his inner elation.

One night on the hook, and a straight run for England before the alarms of the violated Dons to shoreward could bring heavy Spanish sail down on his flanks. Come dawn, they were bound for the Scillies....