John Hopkins

One sailor, a topman, whose job it is to handle the upper sails and rigging, jumps down to tie off a rope, securing it to the portside rail.

The wind is with them and the mainsail billows overhead, stretched taut, carrying them ever closer to the town.

As the harbor comes into view, so too do dozens of Spanish ships moored at anchor, many of them fat-bellied merchant vessels.

More importantly, they are likely poorly defended and stuffed with provisions for the Spanish invasion fleet.

But, squinting against the sun and spray, the sailor now spots two other vessels, sleek and fast, cutting effortlessly through the water.

They are Spanish war galleys, and they are rowing straight for them.

He shouts out what he has seen, and bellowed orders are quickly relayed from Sir Francis the Captain to the gun decks below.

The topman feels the familiar rumbling in the planks beneath his feet as the cannons are run out.

A quick glance over the rail shows a line of bronze barrels poking from the gun ports ranged along the ship's side.

Another instruction is called out, and the sailor responds instantly, scrambling to help adjust the sail as the great ship begins a lumbering turn, bringing her side on to the quickly approaching Spanish galleys.

A cry.

And then the cannons fire, the colossal release rocking the ship.

A great cheer goes up from those on deck.

One of the enemy galleys now bears a ragged, gaping hole in its side, and bodies drop into the water.

Within minutes, the Spanish are fleeing for the safety of the harbor.

Sir Francis Drake gives the order to pursue, and soon the Elizabeth Bonaventure is closing in on the merchant fleet.

From his position by the wheel, the captain calls a skeleton crew to remain on board.

Everyone else is instructed to form into boarding parties.

Small, fast rowing boats are lowered over the side of the ship, splashing into the sea.

With a dozen other men, the topman rows out to the nearest merchant ship.