colours flying even as she sank. There was some likelihood in this tale;

for another of that fleet lay sunk on the north side, twenty miles from

Grisapol. It was told, I thought, with more detail and gravity than its

companion stories, and there was one particularity which went far to

convince me of its truth: the name, that is, of the ship was still

remembered, and sounded, in my ears, Spanishly. The _Espirito Santo_

they called it, a great ship of many decks of guns, laden with treasure

and grandees of Spain, and fierce soldadoes, that now lay fathom deep to

all eternity, done with her wars and voyages, in Sandag bay, upon the

west of Aros. No more salvos of ordnance for that tall ship, the 'Holy

Spirit,' no more fair winds or happy ventures; only to rot there deep in

the sea-tangle and hear the shoutings of the Merry Men as the tide ran

high about the island. It was a strange thought to me first and last,

and only grew stranger as I learned the more of Spain, from which she had

set sail with so proud a company, and King Philip, the wealthy king, that

sent her on that voyage.

And now I must tell you, as I walked from Grisapol that day, the

_Espirito Santo_ was very much in my reflections. I had been favourably

remarked by our then Principal in Edinburgh College, that famous writer,

Dr. Robertson, and by him had been set to work on some papers of an

ancient date to rearrange and sift of what was worthless; and in one of

these, to my great wonder, I found a note of this very ship, the

_Espirito Santo_, with her captain's name, and how she carried a great

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>