15. Heroes and Villains of the Age of Exploration: The Journeys of Sir Francis Drake

My Name is Sir Francis Drake: English Sea Captain, Privateer, and Explorer

I was born around 1540 in Devon, England, the son of a farmer turned preacher. My family was poor, and from a young age I was bound to the sea. At thirteen, I became an apprentice aboard a small coastal trading ship. The salt air, the rolling waves, and the promise of adventure soon became my life. I learned quickly, rising from a boy to a seasoned sailor, and I knew that my destiny was not to till the land, but to command the waters.

Becoming a Privateer

In my early years, England and Spain were at odds, though not always openly at war. I took to privateering, raiding Spanish treasure ships with letters of marque from the Crown that gave me the cover of legitimacy. To the Spanish, I was a pirate. To my country, I was a weapon, striking blows against an empire that sought to control the seas. The thrill of boarding Spanish galleons and the sight of gold and silver filled me with both pride and ambition.

Voyages to the New World

I sailed many times across the Atlantic, exploring the coasts of the Caribbean and Spanish America. Each journey was perilous. The Spaniards guarded their possessions fiercely, and the seas were full of storms and danger. Yet I pressed on, raiding ports like Nombre de Dios and bringing treasure back to England. I began to earn fame not just as a privateer, but as a man who could outwit the most powerful empire of the age.

The Circumnavigation of the Globe

In 1577, I was chosen to lead a daring venture: to sail westward, attack Spanish holdings in the Pacific, and, if fortune favored us, circumnavigate the world. With five ships, I set out from Plymouth. Through storms, mutiny, and the loss of ships, we pressed onward. I entered the Pacific by way of the Strait of Magellan, raided Spanish ports along the coast of South America, and captured the treasure ship Nuestra Señora de la Concepción. Laden with riches, we crossed the Pacific, sailed past the Spice Islands, and finally returned to England in 1580 with only one ship, the Golden Hind, and a crew reduced by hardship. I had become the first Englishman to circle the globe.

Knight of the Realm

Upon my return, Queen Elizabeth I herself came aboard the Golden Hind and knighted me. To be honored by my sovereign was the highest reward for all my perils. The Spanish called me a devil, but in England I was a hero. My voyages had brought back not just treasure, but knowledge of the world, maps of new seas, and proof that England could rival Spain on the global stage.

The Spanish Armada

In 1588, Spain sought to crush England with its mighty Armada. I played my part in its defeat, leading daring raids at Cadiz that delayed the fleet and harrying the Armada once it reached the English Channel. Fire ships, clever maneuvers, and the hand of fortune scattered the Spaniards. The victory secured England’s future as a rising naval power, and I took pride in knowing I had helped defend my homeland from invasion.

My Final Days

Even after the Armada, I longed for the sea. I led new expeditions to the Caribbean, seeking to repeat my past glories. Yet age and fate caught up with me. In 1596, while raiding Spanish settlements once more, I fell ill with dysentery near Panama. I was buried at sea, armored and shrouded, with the waters closing over me as my final resting place.

My Legacy

Some call me a pirate, others a hero. I see myself as both—a man of my age, loyal to my Queen, and driven by the call of the sea. I struck fear into Spain, opened pathways for English exploration, and showed my countrymen that the oceans were theirs to claim. My life was written in salt and steel, in treasure and battle, and though I am gone, the name Francis Drake still rides upon the waves.

Slave Trade and Drake’s Early Involvement – Told by Diego, Freed African Sailor

Before Francis Drake became a name whispered with awe in England or cursed in Spain, he first walked the path of the slaver. Few wish to speak of it, yet it is truth. As a young man, he joined his cousin John Hawkins in voyages to Africa, not to explore or to trade honestly, but to steal men, women, and children from their homelands. They raided villages and bought captives from local chiefs, then crammed hundreds into the dark holds of their ships. The ocean became a prison, and the cries of the chained filled the night. I know this, for I lived that same bondage, stolen from Africa and cast into a world where men were treated as coin.

The Voyages Across the Atlantic

Drake and Hawkins carried their human cargo across the Atlantic, to the Spanish colonies where Africans were sold as laborers for mines and plantations. The voyage itself was death to many. Disease spread in the close air, water turned foul, and food was scarce. Shackled together, men suffocated, women wept, children perished. For every ship that made land, countless souls never reached it, their bodies claimed by the sea. Those who survived found no relief, for they were sold under the gaze of Spanish masters, their lives measured only in silver.

The Betrayal at San Juan de Ulúa

On one such voyage in 1568, Hawkins and Drake attempted to sell their captives in Mexico against the strict laws of Spain. They struck a bargain with colonial officials, but treachery followed. At San Juan de Ulúa, the Spanish attacked their fleet, sinking ships and scattering survivors. Drake narrowly escaped with his life. Many of the Africans they had carried were abandoned, left to a fate no man can tell. For Drake, this disaster marked an end to his slaving ventures. For those like me, it was just another reminder that our lives were pawns in the games of empires.

The Unspoken Legacy

In England, Drake is remembered for his daring raids and his circumnavigation of the globe. Yet few speak of how his fortune began in the trafficking of human lives. The gold and silver he later carried home was built upon the same foundation as the slave trade—violence, theft, and suffering. While some of his later voyages gave freedom to a handful like me, we cannot forget that he first learned his trade as a man who chained Africans for profit.

My Reflection on His Role

I do not tell this to condemn him alone, for he was but one among many. The Age of Exploration was also the age of slavery, and countless ships sailed the same cruel course. Yet if we speak of his glory, we must also speak of this darkness. I was one of the fortunate few who found freedom upon his deck, but I carried with me the memory of those who never escaped their chains. When I think of Francis Drake, I see both the captain who gave me a place and the young man who once trafficked my brothers and sisters. To remember only one side is to tell a half-truth. His story, like mine, is marked by both survival and sorrow.

Why I Turned Away from Slavery and the Part My Faith Played – Told by Drake

In my youth, I joined my cousin John Hawkins on voyages that carried Africans from their homelands into Spanish colonies. At the time, I did not see the full weight of what we were doing. I was young, ambitious, and eager to prove myself upon the seas. Hawkins was experienced, and I followed him as an apprentice of sorts, learning how to command ships and men. The trade in flesh seemed to many in England a way to profit from Spain’s vast dominions. Yet even then, I saw the suffering of those bound below decks, and I carried unease in my heart, though I hardened myself to silence it.

The Disaster at San Juan de Ulúa

It was in 1568, at San Juan de Ulúa, that my heart began to change. Hawkins and I had carried enslaved Africans across the sea to Mexico, hoping to force their sale upon the Spaniards. At first, we believed ourselves safe, but treachery followed. The Spanish attacked our fleet, and many of our men were killed, our ships sunk. I escaped, but I never forgot the chaos and betrayal of that harbor. I thought then of the Africans who had been abandoned in that place, left behind in confusion and despair. In that moment, the trade seemed less a path to glory and more a curse that brought ruin upon all it touched.

The Weight of Faith

I was a Protestant, and my faith guided me in times of doubt. England itself was a kingdom reborn in defiance of Rome, and I believed deeply in our struggle against Catholic Spain. Yet the Scriptures I knew also spoke of liberty and of the dignity of all souls before God. I could not reconcile the chains I had seen with the God I served. In time, I came to believe that striking at Spain’s empire was my true calling, not by carrying slaves to strengthen their colonies, but by breaking their power upon the seas. My faith taught me that I was an instrument of Providence, chosen to weaken Spain and defend my Queen. To traffic in slaves was to serve Spain’s wealth; to raid their galleons and ports was to serve England’s cause.

The Turning Point in My Life

After San Juan de Ulúa, I never again took part in a slaving voyage. Instead, I dedicated myself to privateering and exploration. I raided Nombre de Dios and crossed the Isthmus of Panama, where I gazed upon the Pacific for the first time and swore I would one day sail it. My purpose had shifted. I sought to fight Spain with cannon and cunning, not with the chains of Africans carried into bondage. Though I cannot claim I became a champion for the enslaved, I know there was a time when I chose to turn from that trade. From the late 1560s onward, I pursued a different path, one of plunder against Spain rather than profit from its cruel labor.

How Faith Shaped My Legacy

Faith remained my compass, even in the darkest storms. I believed that God favored England’s cause, that our victories were signs of His blessing, and that my own survival through storms and battles was proof of His hand. I saw Spain’s empire as corrupt, feeding upon the suffering of slaves and the wealth of lands stolen in God’s name. By turning against the slave trade, I turned against feeding that corruption. My faith did not make me a gentle man—far from it—but it gave me the conviction that my true service was to weaken Spain, not to strengthen it with the labor of enslaved souls.

The Early Life of a Privateer – Told by Sir Francis Drake

I was born around 1540 in Tavistock, Devon, into a family of modest means. My father, once a farmer, later turned preacher after we were forced to leave our land during troubled times. Though our station was humble, fate set me upon a path greater than I could have imagined. From the start, the sea called to me, promising both hardship and opportunity.

My Apprenticeship at Sea

As a boy, I was placed in service with the captain of a small trading vessel. There, I learned the craft of sailing, how to read the wind, and how to steer a ship through both calm and storm. The sea became my school, teaching me discipline, courage, and patience. Though I was but an apprentice, I showed such skill that the captain, upon his death, left me the vessel. It was a great trust, and it marked the beginning of my command.

The Turn to Privateering

England was not yet a great naval power, and Spain held much of the world’s riches in its grasp. Yet many in England, including myself, saw opportunity in striking at Spanish treasure. With the blessing of letters of marque, I joined ventures that blurred the line between sailor and pirate. We intercepted Spanish ships heavy with gold and silver, their holds filled with the spoils of the New World. To Spain, I was a thief; to England, I was a servant of the Crown, weakening an enemy’s grip and enriching my homeland.

My Rise in Reputation

Each successful voyage brought me greater renown. I learned to command not just a ship, but men hardened by sea and battle. I gained a reputation for daring and skill, for striking quickly and vanishing before the Spanish could respond. My name began to spread beyond Devon, carried on the waves to both England and Spain. It was in these early years, aboard swift ships and under the flag of privateering, that I carved out the beginnings of my legend.

My Name is Queen Elizabeth I: Queen of England and Ireland

A Dangerous Beginning

I was born in 1533 at Greenwich Palace, the daughter of King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. My birth was not greeted with the joy reserved for a son, and only three years later my mother was executed on charges of treason. Declared illegitimate, I grew up in a shadowed court where my very survival was never certain. I learned early that knowledge and caution were my shields.

Education and Preparation

Though my future seemed uncertain, I was given an education worthy of a prince. I studied languages, philosophy, history, and theology, becoming fluent in French, Italian, and Latin. My tutors taught me the power of words and the necessity of wit. I trained my mind so that I could navigate the treacherous politics of my time, knowing that one day I might be called to rule.

The Path to the ThroneMy sister Mary Tudor, a devout Catholic, came to power before me. During her reign, my life was once again in danger, for I was suspected of being a rallying figure for Protestants. Imprisoned in the Tower of London and later kept under watch, I lived in constant fear. Yet fortune turned, and in 1558, after Mary’s death, I was crowned Queen of England. I vowed to be a monarch who would not let fear govern her decisions.

The Elizabethan Settlement

Religion had torn my country apart, so I sought a middle way. I restored Protestantism but allowed enough tradition to ease the divisions. The Elizabethan Settlement was not perfect, but it gave England stability after years of turmoil. My people needed peace, and I was determined to give them a faith that could unite rather than destroy.

A Golden Age of Exploration

Under my reign, men such as Francis Drake, Walter Raleigh, and Humphrey Gilbert sailed to the farthest corners of the earth. I knew England could never rival Spain’s wealth by land, but on the seas we could carve our own destiny. Privateers, often branded pirates by our enemies, filled my coffers and humbled Spain. I encouraged them, knowing their victories would secure England’s place among the great nations.

The Spanish Armada

Perhaps the greatest trial of my reign came in 1588, when King Philip II of Spain sent his mighty Armada to conquer England. I stood before my troops at Tilbury and declared that though I had the body of a weak and feeble woman, I had the heart and stomach of a king. My words rallied the nation, and with courage, fire ships, and the winds of fortune, the Armada was scattered. England was saved, and I was forever tied to that moment of defiance.

The Glories of My CourtMy reign became known as a golden age. Writers like William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe gave voice to the spirit of England, and the theater thrived under my protection. My court was full of intrigue and pageantry, yet I never married. Suitors came and went, but I chose to remain the Virgin Queen, wedded only to my kingdom. By keeping my independence, I strengthened my authority and ensured no foreign prince or English noble could claim power through me.

My Final Years

The last years of my reign were heavy with sorrow. Many of those I had trusted and loved, such as Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, and my brilliant advisor William Cecil, passed away. New men rose, but the weight of time pressed on me. I ruled for forty-five years, longer than many had thought possible. In 1603, at the age of sixty-nine, I passed from this world, leaving no heir of my own blood.

My Legacy

I left behind an England stronger than I had found it. My reign secured the Protestant faith, defended the nation from invasion, and laid the foundations of empire. I am remembered as Gloriana, the Virgin Queen, and though I was but a woman in a world of kings, I showed that a woman’s rule could be wise, fierce, and unyielding. My life was forged in peril, but it became a beacon of triumph for my people.

The Crown and the Privateer: Why England Backed Exploration – Told by Queen Elizabeth I

When I ascended the throne in 1558, England was not the mighty power it would later become. My kingdom was small compared to the vast dominions of Spain, which stretched across the oceans and overflowed with the silver and gold of the New World. Our treasury was strained, our enemies were many, and our navy was modest. To secure my realm, I needed to find a way for England to grow without plunging my people into ruin.

The Use of Privateering

Thus I turned to privateers, men who sailed under my authority with letters of marque. These captains—bold, cunning, and hungry for fortune—were free to raid Spanish treasure fleets and colonies, so long as they shared their spoils with the Crown. To Spain, they were pirates; to me, they were instruments of policy. They filled my coffers, enriched my people, and tested the limits of Spanish power without forcing me to declare open war.

Balancing Diplomacy and Defiance

It was a delicate game. Spain was a Catholic empire of immense strength, and I could not risk direct confrontation too soon. At times, I turned a blind eye to the plunder my privateers brought home, allowing my ambassadors to soothe Spanish outrage with words of denial. At other times, I embraced their victories openly, as when I knighted Francis Drake aboard the Golden Hind after his circumnavigation. By shifting between secrecy and open celebration, I balanced diplomacy with Spain while slowly building England’s strength at sea.

Fueling England’s Ambitions

These ventures were not only for treasure. They taught my sailors the wide seas, opened new paths of trade, and gave England a taste of empire. Each raid against Spain was a lesson in courage, navigation, and power. Each treasure ship seized helped finance future endeavors. By supporting privateering, I sowed the seeds of an English empire that would one day rival and even surpass Spain’s. My decision was not merely born of greed, but of vision—for I knew that the destiny of England lay not only upon her shores, but upon the waves of the world.

My Name is Don Álvaro de Bazán: Admiral of the Spanish Navy

I was born in 1526 in Granada, into a family long tied to the sea. My father, Don Álvaro de Bazán the Elder, was himself a skilled naval commander, and from him I learned the art of war upon the waters. As a boy I was not raised in idle comfort; I was taught discipline, seamanship, and the strategies that would one day make Spain the master of the seas. By the time most men were just beginning their careers, I was already commanding ships in the Mediterranean.

Battles Against the Barbary Corsairs

My early years were filled with the struggle against the corsairs who plagued the Mediterranean. These pirates raided our coasts, stole our people into slavery, and threatened the very heart of Spain’s trade. I led expeditions to drive them back, and with each victory I gained both experience and renown. The Mediterranean was a harsh training ground, but it hardened me into a commander ready to face greater foes.

The Holy League and the Battle of Lepanto

In 1571, I played a crucial role in assembling the fleet of the Holy League, the great alliance of Christian powers formed to confront the Ottoman Turks. I organized supplies, ships, and strategy for the coalition that met the Ottomans at Lepanto. Though Don John of Austria commanded in battle, my work behind the scenes ensured that the fleet was prepared. The victory at Lepanto broke Ottoman dominance in the Mediterranean, and I took pride in knowing my efforts had helped secure Christendom.

Wars Against France and Portugal

As the power of Spain grew, so too did its enemies. I commanded fleets against the French, shattering their naval strength in multiple encounters. Later, I played a decisive role in the conquest of Portugal in 1580, when King Philip II claimed the Portuguese throne. I brought my fleet to bear at the Battle of Ponta Delgada in the Azores, defeating a French-Portuguese force and ensuring the Iberian Union. For this, I was made Marquis of Santa Cruz, a title I bore with honor.

The Rise of England as an Enemy

In my later years, the greatest challenge came not from the Ottomans or the French, but from the English. Men like Francis Drake raided our treasure fleets and struck boldly at our ports. To me, they were pirates, thieves clothed in the false legitimacy of letters from their queen. I devoted myself to planning an Armada that would bring England to heel, restore Catholicism, and end their piracy once and for all.

Plans for the Armada

I envisioned a vast fleet, well supplied, properly armed, and commanded with unity of purpose. I urged King Philip to prepare thoroughly, for I knew the seas were unforgiving and the English, though weaker, were cunning. My dream was to lead this Armada myself, to carry Spain’s power across the Channel and crush Elizabeth’s defiance.

My Final Days

But fate denied me that chance. In 1588, before the Armada set sail, illness struck me down. I died in Lisbon, unable to see the fleet depart. Without my leadership, others took command, but they lacked the preparation and foresight I had long urged upon the King. The Armada failed, scattered by English fire and storms, and my death became forever tied to that loss.

My Legacy

I am remembered as one of Spain’s greatest admirals, undefeated in battle during my life. Though the Armada failed after my passing, my victories at Lepanto, in the Mediterranean, and in Portugal secured Spain’s empire for decades. I was a servant of my king and a defender of my faith, a man who lived by the sea and died dreaming of conquest. My name, Don Álvaro de Bazán, still echoes in the halls of Spain as a symbol of discipline, skill, and loyalty.

Spanish View of Drake: Pirate or Enemy of God? – Told by Don Álvaro de Bazán

To us in Spain, Francis Drake was no noble captain nor servant of a queen, but a pirate of the lowest order. He preyed upon our treasure fleets, stole from our ports, and brought terror to the settlements of the New World. The English called him a privateer, but in our eyes there was no honor in his raids. He was a thief whose ambition was fueled by greed, and whose victories came at the expense of the faithful subjects of His Most Catholic Majesty, King Philip II.

The Raids in the New World

Drake’s attacks struck deep into the lifeblood of our empire. In the Caribbean he raided Nombre de Dios, Cartagena, and Santo Domingo. He burned towns, looted warehouses, and carried off the gold and silver meant for Spain’s treasury. His men were ruthless, and though they claimed the blessing of their queen, they left behind smoke, ashes, and ruined lives. Our colonists and officials called him El Draque, the Dragon, a name that spread fear wherever his sails appeared.

A Challenge to God’s Order

Spain believed itself chosen by God to carry the Catholic faith across the oceans. To strike at Spain, as Drake did, was to strike at God’s mission. Many among us called him an enemy of God, for he spread not faith but heresy and rebellion. His raids were not only against ships of silver, but against the Church itself, mocking the sacraments and emboldening the Protestants who opposed our holy work.

Our Attempts to Stop Him

We sent fleets to trap him, soldiers to defend our ports, and spies to watch for his movements. Yet Drake was cunning, always vanishing when we sought to corner him, always striking where we were least prepared. He slipped through the Strait of Magellan, harried our galleons in the Pacific, and returned to England as a celebrated hero, untouchable under the protection of Queen Elizabeth. To us, his survival was a bitter wound, proof that fortune favored him while Spain suffered the insult.

The Legacy of a Pirate

Though some in England call him a knight, we in Spain remember him as a pirate who bled our empire and mocked our faith. He may have filled English coffers with our silver, but his name to us is cursed. When I think of Francis Drake, I think not of glory, but of loss and dishonor brought upon Spain by a man who should have been hanged as a common criminal. To us, he was not merely a thief—he was a dragon unleashed upon Christendom, and for that, we named him our enemy forever.

My Name is Diego: An African Sailor Freed by Drake

I was born in Africa, though the memory of my homeland is blurred by time and grief. As a boy I was stolen by raiders, forced into the dark hold of a ship, and carried across the ocean to Spanish lands in the New World. There, I was sold into bondage. My life was not my own, my days filled with labor, punishment, and the weight of despair.

Encounter with Drake

It was during one of Sir Francis Drake’s raids on Spanish settlements that my life changed. His men attacked Nombre de Dios, and in the chaos I saw my chance. I fled to him, choosing the uncertain fate of a runaway over the certainty of slavery. Drake did not return me to the Spaniards. Instead, he gave me a place among his crew. For the first time, I felt the taste of freedom, though it came in the service of another master.

Life Aboard the Golden Hind

Life at sea was harsh, but it was freedom compared to the lash of slavery. I worked alongside Englishmen, hauling ropes, manning sails, and learning the rhythm of the ocean. We faced storms that threatened to swallow us whole, hunger when supplies ran low, and fear when enemy ships closed in. Yet I also saw wonders—the vast Pacific, islands of beauty, and lands filled with people whose lives were as strange to me as mine was to them.

The Circumnavigation

When Drake set out to circle the globe, I was with him. I witnessed the betrayal of men who mutinied, the harsh trials of the Strait of Magellan, and the capture of great Spanish treasure ships. I labored on deck as we carried gold and silver stolen from the very empire that had once enslaved me. It was dangerous, bloody work, but each day I lived as a free man, even if the English still looked upon me as different.

Between Two Worlds

I lived in a world not truly my own. To the Spaniards I was a traitor, a runaway who aided their enemy. To the English I was useful, but never fully equal. Yet I carved out my place among them with strength, loyalty, and skill. I was a bridge between two worlds—the land of my stolen birth and the seas that became my home.

My Final Journey

In time, sickness and wounds wore me down. My last voyage came not with treasure or glory but with weakness in my body. Near the coast of Panama, I fell ill and died, far from my homeland, far from the life I might have lived had I never been stolen. My body found its rest in foreign soil, but my spirit wandered the seas I had crossed as both captive and sailor.

My Legacy

My story is not written in books, for men of my station were seldom remembered. Yet I know there were many like me—Africans torn from home, who found unexpected paths in the age of exploration. Some remained in chains, others carved out scraps of freedom as sailors, interpreters, or fighters. I lived as both slave and free man, witness to empires in conflict, my fate bound to the currents of the ocean. I was Diego, and though history may forget me, the sea remembers.

Life Aboard Ship and Encounters with Indigenous Peoples – Told by Diego

Life aboard ship was never easy, no matter if you were free or bound by duty. The decks were crowded, the air thick with the smell of tar, sweat, and salt. We ate hardtack riddled with weevils, drank water that turned foul after weeks at sea, and lived in fear of storms that could tear a mast from its roots. Each day was filled with labor—hauling ropes, repairing sails, scrubbing decks, and standing watch through the night. There was no rest for a sailor, only the endless rhythm of the sea and the captain’s command.

The Discipline of Command

Discipline was harsh, for without it a ship would fall into chaos. Men who disobeyed orders were whipped, tied to the mast for all to see, or worse, cast adrift. Drake himself was a stern master. He rewarded loyalty, but he demanded obedience above all else. I learned quickly that survival meant not only strength but silence when needed. Still, I found my place, proving my worth through skill and endurance, earning the respect of some who had once looked at me only as different.

Encounters with New Peoples

When we came to new lands, I saw faces as unfamiliar to me as my own must have been to the English. In the Americas and across the Pacific, we met peoples who lived in ways far removed from our own—some welcomed us with food and trade, others resisted with spears and arrows. To me, these encounters were moments of reflection. I, too, had once been seen as foreign and strange, judged before I was known. I watched as exchanges turned at times to friendship, and at others to bloodshed.

Bridging the Divide

Because I spoke some Spanish and had learned bits of other tongues, I was often asked to stand between worlds. I helped interpret, to calm tempers or explain intentions. In those moments, I felt both the burden and the power of being a man caught between nations, races, and cultures. I could see in the eyes of the Indigenous people the same suspicion I had once felt toward strangers, but also a shared humanity that made me wonder what might have been if conquest had not driven men’s hearts.

The Memory of the Voyage

These encounters and the harshness of life at sea left deep marks upon me. The ocean tested our bodies, while the new lands tested our souls. I learned that to survive such voyages one needed more than muscle; one needed patience, resilience, and the ability to see beyond the narrow divisions that captains and kings created. Life aboard ship was hardship, but it was also a journey into the vastness of the world and the endless variety of its peoples. I was Diego, once enslaved, now a sailor, and I carry those memories with me as long as the sea carries the sound of the waves.

Drake’s Circumnavigation of the Globe (1577–1580) – Told by Sir Francis Drake

In 1577, I was chosen to command a daring voyage that would take me further than any Englishman had ever sailed. Queen Elizabeth herself entrusted me with secret orders to strike at Spanish possessions and, if possible, to find a passage to lands rich with treasure. With five ships under my command, we departed from Plymouth, setting out westward into seas few of my countrymen had seen. My heart was full of ambition, but I knew well that the journey ahead would test us beyond measure.

The Passage Through Magellan’s Strait

We sailed down the coast of South America, battered by storms and plagued by dissension. The Strait of Magellan was a place of cruel winds and twisting waters. There, we lost ships to tempest and mutiny alike, until only a handful of vessels remained. Yet we pushed onward, and when we emerged into the Pacific, I claimed its waters in the name of our Queen. The ocean seemed endless, but it also offered the chance to strike Spain where it thought itself secure.

Raids on the Spanish Main

Along the Pacific coast of South America, we fell upon Spanish ports and treasure ships. At Valparaíso, at Callao, and upon the sea itself, we captured silver, gold, jewels, and supplies. The greatest prize of all was the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción, a mighty galleon heavy with riches. The Spaniards were stunned, for they had not thought it possible for an English fleet to reach those waters. Each victory brought us both wealth and peril, for we were deep in enemy seas, far from home, and pursued by vengeance.

Alliances and Aid

Not all encounters were with enemies. Along the coasts and islands, we sometimes found allies among Indigenous peoples who resisted Spanish rule. They aided us with food, knowledge of the land, and safe harbor. In distant islands across the Pacific, we traded with those who welcomed us, learning their customs even as we struggled with unfamiliar tongues. These friendships were fragile, but they reminded me that the world was far wider and richer than most in Europe had ever dreamed.

Crossing the Great Oceans

From the Pacific, we sailed westward, crossing vast stretches of sea where hunger and thirst gnawed at us. We touched at the Spice Islands, bartered for cloves, and continued on through treacherous waters where reefs threatened to tear our hull apart. Disease struck, and death thinned our numbers, yet still we pressed on. One by one, ships were lost, until only my vessel, the Golden Hind, remained to complete the circle.

The Return to England

At last, after three years of peril and wonder, we returned to Plymouth in 1580. Of the five ships that had set out, only one remained, but it carried treasure beyond measure and tales beyond belief. I had become the first Englishman to circumnavigate the globe, though at great cost of lives and suffering. The Queen herself came aboard the Golden Hind and knighted me, and in that moment I knew that our voyage had changed England’s destiny.

The Meaning of the Journey

My circumnavigation was not merely a raid for gold, though gold we brought in abundance. It was proof that the world’s oceans could be mastered by English hands, that Spain was not invincible, and that the horizons stretched wide for those bold enough to chase them. I had faced storms, mutiny, hunger, and enemies across the seas, yet I had survived, carrying with me the knowledge that England’s future lay upon the waves.

The Role of Secrecy and Espionage in Exploration – Told by Queen Elizabeth I

When I sent my captains across the seas, I knew their voyages could not be spoken of openly. Spain watched us closely, and its spies lingered in every court of Europe. If Philip II learned the true scope of my ambitions, he would have moved swiftly to crush them before they began. Thus, secrecy became a weapon as vital as any ship or cannon. Orders were sealed, instructions were whispered, and even those who sailed did not always know the full measure of their mission.

Coded Communications

I relied upon codes and ciphers to carry my words across the seas and through the tangled web of courts. Messages to Drake and others were written in ways only trusted men could read, for I could not risk my intentions falling into Spanish hands. Even within my own council, I measured carefully what I revealed, for too many tongues were eager to sell secrets if the price was right. The success of a voyage often depended not just on courage at sea, but on the silence of those who stayed behind.

Intelligence Networks

I built a network of spies and informants that stretched across Europe. Sir Francis Walsingham, my spymaster, was tireless in uncovering plots and intercepting messages. He kept me informed of Spanish movements, their preparations, and their intentions. Through his efforts, I knew when Spain planned to strengthen its treasure fleets or when its ports lay unguarded. With such knowledge, I could guide men like Drake to strike with precision, wounding an empire far greater than ours.

The Shield of Denial

At times, secrecy allowed me to deny what all the world suspected. When Drake returned from plundering Spain’s riches, I could feign ignorance, claiming he acted on his own accord. This shield of denial gave me time to balance diplomacy, soothing Philip’s anger until England was ready to face him openly. It was a dangerous game, for too much honesty would have meant war before my kingdom was strong enough to fight it.

The Legacy of Shadows

Secrecy and espionage were as vital to my reign as the fleets that sailed under my banner. They allowed a small kingdom to outmaneuver a mighty empire, to strike when least expected, and to rise upon the stage of the world. Exploration was not merely a contest of ships upon the seas; it was a struggle of wits, words, and hidden hands. Without the shadows of secrecy, the light of England’s glory upon the oceans might never have shone.

The Spanish Armada and the “Protestant Wind” – Told by Don Álvaro de Bazán

In my final years, I devoted myself to the grand design of an Armada that would humble England and restore the Catholic faith to that rebellious island. King Philip II entrusted me with the planning, for I had never lost a battle at sea, and I knew the strengths and weaknesses of both our fleets and our enemies. The vision was immense: a fleet of galleons and transports carrying soldiers across the Channel, shielded by our navy, to join with the Duke of Parma’s forces in the Low Countries. From there, we would strike at the heart of Elizabeth’s kingdom.

Preparing for WarI knew that such a venture required careful preparation. Our ships needed supplies, coordination, and leadership. Spain’s empire stretched across oceans, but such vast dominions also strained our resources. I warned that haste and poor planning would bring disaster. The Armada needed unity of command and discipline in its ranks, for the English would surely fight with cunning and desperation. I laid down my plans, but fate denied me the chance to see them through, for death claimed me in 1588 before the fleet sailed.

The Threat of English PrivateersEven as we prepared, England’s privateers gnawed at our strength. Francis Drake raided Cadiz in 1587, striking boldly into our very harbor and burning ships and supplies meant for the Armada. His attack, which he called the “singeing of the King of Spain’s beard,” delayed our fleet for months. Men like Drake were not mere raiders; they were thorns that weakened us before the true battle began. They showed the world that Spain was not untouchable, and their daring emboldened England to stand against us.

The Armada Sets SailAfter my death, others took command, but they lacked the experience and foresight I had long urged upon the King. The Armada sailed in 1588 with more than a hundred ships, a mighty force by any measure, yet it carried within it the seeds of failure. The English, with lighter and swifter vessels, harried our formation and struck with fire ships at Calais, scattering us into disorder. Coordination with Parma’s forces faltered, and the very sea seemed to turn against us.

The “Protestant Wind”It was not English guns alone that defeated Spain, but the winds themselves. Storms drove our ships northward around Scotland and Ireland, smashing hulls upon rocks and scattering survivors. The English called it the “Protestant Wind,” claiming God’s favor for their cause. I cannot deny the hand of fortune in that storm, though I still believe poor planning and divided command were as fatal as any tempest.

The Legacy of DefeatThe Armada’s failure shook Spain, but it did not destroy her power. Yet it gave England a new confidence, and it marked the rise of their navy as a force to be reckoned with. Had I lived, perhaps my hand might have guided the Armada to a different fate. But history remembers the storm and the English defiance, not the years of preparation that came before. I, Don Álvaro de Bazán, left this world before the great clash, yet my name remains tied to the Armada, Spain’s greatest gamble upon the sea.

Trade, Plunder, and the Wealth of Empires – Told by Sir Francis Drake

From the moment I first set sail across the Atlantic, I knew that Spain’s empire was heavy with riches. Their galleons carried silver from Peru, gold from Mexico, spices from the Indies, and jewels from lands far beyond our reach. Every ship that left the Americas for Spain was a floating treasury, and every port they built was a storehouse of wealth. To strike at them was to strike at the heart of their empire, and it was there that I found both danger and reward.

Raids on Spanish PortsTime and again, my men and I attacked their strongholds in the Caribbean and along the Pacific coast. We stormed towns like Nombre de Dios and Cartagena, seizing gold bars, pearls, and silks before the Spaniards could rally. The raids were swift and fierce, for delay meant capture or death. Smoke and fire often followed in our wake, but so too did holds filled with treasure. These plunders not only enriched my crew but brought wealth directly into the coffers of England, a nation that had long been starved of such bounty.

Capturing the Treasure FleetsOn the open sea, the greatest prizes were the treasure galleons themselves. When we seized the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción, her hull groaned with silver and jewels, more wealth than most men could imagine. Victories such as this proved that even Spain’s mighty fleets could be taken, and that English daring could challenge the strongest empire on earth. Each captured ship was a blow against Spain and a triumph for England.

The Changing Fortune of EnglandThe wealth I carried home was not simply mine to spend. It changed England itself. Gold and silver flowed into London, financing new ships, new ventures, and new industries. It gave our nation the strength to expand her navy and stand proudly among the powers of Europe. The spoils of our raids fed the ambitions of merchants and nobles alike, and soon exploration was no longer seen as reckless adventure but as the path to empire.

The Meaning of PlunderSome call me a pirate, and perhaps in truth I was, for much of what I seized belonged to others. Yet I believe I served my Queen and country with every treasure brought home. The riches of Spain, wrested from their galleons and ports, gave England the means to rise. Trade and plunder together laid the foundation of an empire that would one day rival all others. I, Francis Drake, was but the hand that took what Spain had stolen first, and in doing so, I helped change the destiny of my nation.

Freedom, Slavery, and Opportunity in the Age of Exploration – Told by Diego, Freed African Sailor

I was not the only one torn from my homeland. Across Africa, men, women, and children were seized, shackled, and forced aboard ships bound for the Americas. The voyage itself was death to many, their bodies cast into the sea as though they were cargo instead of human souls. Those who survived faced chains, whips, and endless labor in fields and mines. For Africans and many Indigenous peoples, the Age of Exploration was not a time of discovery, but a time of suffering and loss.

The Rare Gift of FreedomYet in the midst of that cruelty, some few found paths to freedom. I myself escaped when Drake raided a Spanish port and took me aboard his ship. He did not return me to the Spaniards but allowed me to serve as a sailor. My freedom was not full equality, but it was a chance to live by my own will, not by the lash. Others like me were freed by circumstance, by flight, or by men who saw our value beyond the bonds of slavery.

Life Among the EnglishAboard an English ship, I labored as any sailor did. The work was hard, the discipline harsh, and the food poor, but I was no longer a possession. Some of the English treated me as a comrade, others with suspicion, yet I had a place among them that I never would have found under Spanish chains. For me, opportunity came not through land or wealth but through survival, skill, and loyalty at sea.

Encounters with Indigenous PeoplesOn our voyages, we met Indigenous peoples whose fates were tangled with ours. Some welcomed us as allies against Spanish cruelty, while others resisted us as intruders upon their land. I saw in them the same struggle I had known—caught between empires that claimed their homes and sought to rule their lives. Some forged fragile bonds with us, trading food and guidance, while others fell under the same yoke of slavery that had bound me.

The Narrow Path of OpportunityFor Africans and Indigenous peoples, opportunity in this age was rare and hard-won. Most remained in bondage, their lives consumed by toil. A few, like me, carved out space in the cracks of empire, finding freedom as sailors, interpreters, or fighters. These were not easy lives, but they were lives of our own making. My story is one of pain and struggle, but also of a freedom seized in the face of a world that sought to deny it. I was Diego, and though my name may fade, I speak for all who bore the weight of chains and yet found the strength to live beyond them.

Drake’s Legacy: Hero, Pirate, or Imperialist? – Told by Drake, Diego, Elizabeth I, and Don Álvaro de Bazán

Drake Speaks: The Hero of EnglandWhen I look upon my life, I see myself first and foremost as a servant of my Queen and country. I was born to the sea, and I carried England’s banner across oceans that had once been the domain of Spain alone. I brought back riches beyond imagination, charted waters unknown to my countrymen, and proved that English sailors could match and surpass the might of the greatest empire of the age. They call me a pirate, but I say I was no thief. I fought Spain as any soldier fights an enemy, striking where I could and bringing home victory. To my men, I was a leader who shared the dangers of storm and battle; to my nation, I was a shield against foreign threat. If England now stands tall, it is because men like me risked all upon the waters. Hero, yes, I claim that name, for I gave myself to a cause greater than gold—the rise of England.

Elizabeth I Speaks: The Builder of a NationWhen I think of Francis Drake, I see not only the man, but what his actions meant for England. My kingdom was small when I first wore the crown, overshadowed by Spain’s empire that stretched across the seas. Drake’s voyages brought more than treasure; they brought England confidence. His daring raids weakened Spain’s pride, filled my treasury, and gave my people a taste of what lay beyond our shores. I used his victories carefully, sometimes praising them, sometimes denying them, always balancing diplomacy with defiance. Drake was not perfect, but he was the right man for the age—a man who struck fear into our enemies and pride into our hearts. Without him, England might have remained a minor power, but with him, we took our first steps toward empire. He was not merely a pirate; he was one of the stones upon which I built the foundation of my nation’s greatness.

Don Álvaro de Bazán Speaks: The Enemy of SpainTo hear Drake speak of honor is to hear a wolf praise his teeth. In Spain, his name is cursed. He was no hero, but a thief who cloaked himself in the false dignity of royal favor. He attacked our ports, burned our towns, and robbed our ships of treasures that were the lifeblood of our empire. He mocked God’s chosen mission, spreading heresy where we sought to spread faith. His raids emboldened Protestants and stirred rebellion against rightful Catholic order. I planned an Armada to end men like him, to bring England back into the fold of Christendom, but death carried me before the chance was given. His so-called glory was built upon ruin, his heroism upon theft. Call him what you will in England, but to Spain, he was a pirate, an enemy of God, and a scourge upon the seas.

Diego Speaks: The Witness of Two WorldsI saw Drake not from the throne nor from the halls of Spain, but from the deck of his ship. To me, he was both savior and master. He freed me from Spanish bondage, and for that I will never forget him. Yet I also saw how he dealt with others, how the raids left smoke and ashes where people once lived. He sought wealth for his Queen, but in doing so he often brought suffering to those who had no quarrel with him. On his ship, I was freer than I had ever been, yet still never fully equal. I think of him as both hero and pirate, but above all, as a man of his time—a man who rose upon the suffering of others, yet also gave opportunities to those, like me, who had been forgotten by the world. His legacy is not one truth but many, and those of us who lived in his shadow know that greatness and cruelty often walked hand in hand.

The Roundtable ReflectionThus we sit, four voices bound by the memory of one man. Drake calls himself a hero, Elizabeth claims him as the builder of empire, Álvaro names him a pirate and enemy of God, and I, Diego, speak as one who lived both the gift of his freedom and the burden of his violence. His legacy cannot be written in one word, for it was forged in too many lives, too many battles, too many shores. To England, he will always be the Dragon who humbled Spain. To Spain, he is the thief who brought disgrace. To those who served under him, he was both harsh commander and bringer of opportunity. Perhaps history’s truth lies in the joining of all these voices: Francis Drake was hero, pirate, and imperialist all at once, a man whose sails carried both glory and ruin across the wide seas of the world.

My Reflection on the ChangeI cannot deny the part I once played in the trade of human lives. It is a stain upon my early years, one I cannot erase. Yet I also know that I left it behind, never again to return to it. From the time of San Juan de Ulúa, my course was set toward privateering, exploration, and war against Spain. My faith gave me the courage to see myself as chosen for that task, and in it I found a sense of purpose. Some may still call me pirate, others hero, but I know this: I was no longer a slaver. I became instead a man who sought to bring down the very empire that thrived upon that wicked trade.

The Mutiny and Harsh Discipline During the Circumnavigation – Told by DrakeWhen I set out in 1577 to circle the globe, I carried not only ships and men, but also the burden of command. Among my officers was Thomas Doughty, a nobleman of some standing who had once been my friend. At first, he was loyal, but as the voyage continued and hardships mounted, discontent grew. The seas were harsh, the storms relentless, and hunger pressed us hard. In that crucible, ambition and suspicion took root. Doughty began to challenge my authority, whispering among the men, questioning my orders, and sowing division where unity was most needed.

The Threat of MutinyA voyage of such magnitude demanded absolute discipline, for any weakness of command could spell doom for all. When word reached me that Doughty had not only conspired against my leadership but had plotted treason by seeking to betray us to Spain, I knew the matter could not be ignored. Mutiny was more dangerous than any storm, for it turned brother against brother. If left unchecked, it could tear the fleet apart before we ever reached our goal.

The Trial at SeaI convened a trial aboard ship, a strange and heavy thing upon the waters. Officers and crew alike were called to bear witness. Doughty denied treason, but many testified to his intrigues and defiance. I knew well that he was a nobleman, higher in birth than I, and that his execution would bring controversy. Yet at sea, there can be no divided authority. The men weighed his guilt, and I pronounced the sentence. He was to die for mutiny and treason, that the voyage might be saved from ruin.

The ExecutionOn the coast of Patagonia, Doughty was brought forth. He met his death calmly, taking the sacrament and bidding farewell to the men. I watched as his head was struck from his shoulders, and though I steeled myself, the weight of the moment bore heavily upon me. Some of the crew whispered that I had overreached, that I had slain a gentleman to secure my own command. Yet I knew the truth: without firm discipline, the circumnavigation would have ended in chaos and failure.

The Aftermath and My ResolveIn the days that followed, tension lingered among the crew. Some grieved for Doughty, others praised my firmness, but all understood that my authority was now absolute. I reminded them that we sailed for the glory of England and the favor of God, and that our survival depended on unity. By executing one, I bound the rest together under a single command. It was a harsh lesson, but a necessary one.

My Reflection on DisciplineLooking back, I know the decision marked me forever. To some, it proved my ruthlessness; to others, it showed my strength as a leader. At sea, mercy can be a weakness, for hesitation costs lives. I did not relish Doughty’s death, but I believed it saved the voyage. Without discipline, we would never have completed the circumnavigation. It was a cruel burden, but one I bore for the sake of my men, my Queen, and the destiny of England.

Indigenous Alliances and Resistance – Told by Diego, Freed African Sailor

When I sailed with Drake, I saw how the peoples of the Americas met us with eyes both curious and cautious. Some had known only the Spaniards, who came with chains and crosses, and they judged us by the same measure. Others, who suffered under Spanish rule, saw in us a chance to strike back. To them, Drake was not just another foreign captain, but a weapon against their oppressors. Yet I also saw how quickly trust could fray, for alliances born in fear or need seldom held strong.

Fragile Friendships Against SpainThere were times when Drake and his men were welcomed. On the Pacific coast, in lands scarred by Spanish conquest, some Indigenous groups gave us food, shelter, and guidance. They saw us as allies, if only for a season, for we too fought the Spaniards. These moments of friendship were fragile, resting on a shared enemy rather than true kinship. Once the danger passed, suspicion often returned, for the English came with swords and muskets, and their hunger for plunder was little different from the Spaniards’.

When Resistance Turned to ConflictNot all encounters ended in peace. In some places, we were met with spears, arrows, and cries of defiance. To many Indigenous peoples, we were invaders no better than those who came before us. I recall nights where villages turned against us, driving us back to our ships with wounds and dead among our company. These moments reminded us that we were strangers in lands that had their own rulers, laws, and ways of life long before Europe ever cast its gaze across the seas.

Caught Between WorldsAs one who had been enslaved, I understood both sides in a way few others did. I knew the pain of chains and the sting of conquest, and I recognized in the eyes of the Indigenous peoples the same defiance I had once felt. Yet I also stood on the side of Drake’s crew, dependent on them for my freedom. It was a bitter thing, to be both guest and invader, both comrade and outsider. I walked between worlds, never fully belonging to either.

The Lasting Memory of EncounterWhat I learned from those years is that alliances with Indigenous peoples were often fleeting, born of need and broken by mistrust. Some found momentary hope in our presence, others only more suffering. Their resistance showed that conquest was never complete, that even in the face of muskets and cannons, people fought to defend their homes. I carry with me the memory of those encounters—the kindness that spared our lives, the battles that nearly ended them, and the truth that empire was always built upon fragile ground.

Drake’s Reputation Across Europe – Told by Don Álvaro de Bazán

In England, Francis Drake was lifted high as a hero. He returned from his circumnavigation with ships laden in treasure and stories of daring raids against Spain. Their queen knighted him, and the people cheered him in the streets of London. To the English, he was proof that their nation, small and untested compared to Spain, could rise upon the seas. They called him brave, cunning, and chosen by God. Yet such praise rang hollow beyond their shores, for elsewhere in Europe, he was not so loved.

The Spanish CondemnationTo us in Spain, he was no noble sailor but a pirate. His hands were stained with theft, his victories built upon plunder and fire. Every galleon he seized, every port he raided, was a crime against the crown of Spain and the order of Christendom. We gave him no honor, only curses, calling him El Draque, the Dragon, as if he were a beast sent to torment the faithful. His name brought dread to our colonies and fury to our king. Where England saw a knight, we saw an outlaw.

The View from FranceIn France, his reputation was more divided. Some admired him, for the French too resented Spain’s grip upon Europe and its seas. To them, Drake was a daring foe of Spanish power, a man who proved that even the strongest empire could bleed. Yet others saw him as reckless, too willing to provoke wars that threatened to engulf all Europe. French merchants feared his raids, for he struck at ships regardless of flag when fortune tempted him. He was, to them, a man who cared for no law but his own ambition.

The Watchful Eyes of the DutchAmong the Dutch, who struggled against Spain’s rule in their own rebellion, Drake was seen as a useful ally. His raids weakened the same empire they sought to throw off. Yet even they did not trust him fully. He was too bold, too unpredictable, his loyalty bound only to his queen. They admired his victories, but they also feared the instability he brought, for the seas he roamed became more dangerous for all.

A Polarizing LegacyThus, across Europe, Francis Drake’s name carried weight, but never one meaning. In England, he was glorified; in Spain, he was despised; in France and the Low Countries, he was admired and distrusted in equal measure. He was a man who destabilized the order of nations, a sailor who defied the rules that governed empires. His reputation was not uniform but fractured, as sharp and divided as the age in which he lived. I, Don Álvaro de Bazán, say this: his fame was great, but greatness built upon piracy and fire is no foundation for lasting honor.

The Morality of Privateering vs. Piracy – Told by Sir Francis Drake and Don Álvaro de Bazán

Drake Speaks: The Legitimacy of My CauseI did not sail as a lawless thief, though Spain would call me so. I bore with me letters of marque, the authority of my queen, which gave my actions the weight of law. When I struck at Spanish ships or ports, I did so as an instrument of England’s policy, not as a rogue seeking only gold. The world was divided between empires, and Spain claimed dominion by force and decree of the Pope. Why should England, free and sovereign, bow to such claims? My privateering was war by another name, carried out upon the seas where Spain believed itself unchallenged. To me, there was honor in weakening an enemy who sought to enslave not only men but nations.

Álvaro Responds: The Pirate by Any Other NameYou speak of honor, Drake, but you carried no honor in your holds, only stolen treasure. Your so-called letters of marque are but scraps of paper, meaningless to any save the English Crown. To Spain, to France, to Christendom entire, they were excuses crafted to cloak piracy in false dignity. You attacked in times of peace as well as war, raided towns where innocents lived, and plundered ships that carried the wealth of empires. Do you believe a king in Africa or the Indies would care for your English papers if his people were robbed by men under your command? No, you were a pirate, dressed in English colors, and history will remember you as such outside your own island.

Drake Speaks: The Difference Between UsAnd yet, Don Álvaro, is not Spain guilty of the same? You claim papal decrees to divide the world, yet who gave the Pope such authority? You enslaved Africans, forced conversion upon Indigenous peoples, and claimed lands never yours by right. Spain’s empire was built upon blood and chains, yet you call me thief for taking from what was never justly held. At least I gave freedom to some who escaped Spanish bondage, and I fought openly under my queen’s banner. A pirate hides in the shadows. I struck boldly, carrying the name of England before me.

Álvaro Responds: The Hypocrisy of EnglandYou justify yourself by pointing to Spain’s sins, but one crime does not excuse another. If Spain enslaved, then England joined in, for your own hands touched the trade in flesh with John Hawkins. Do not pretend you were savior. You enriched your queen with plunder while claiming divine favor. To Spain, you were not a knight but a marauder, no different from the corsairs we fought in the Mediterranean. You destabilized the seas, making trade and travel perilous for all. Your actions were not guided by law, only by greed, and no English claim can wash away the stain of piracy.

The Unsettled TruthThus the debate between us remains. I, Drake, say that privateering bore the sanction of my sovereign, and that I fought a just cause against an empire that sought to rule the world. And I, Don Álvaro, say that no paper, no queen, no banner can make piracy into honor, for theft and fire remain theft and fire. Between us lies the blurred line of the age, where law bent to power and the sea belonged to those daring enough to seize it. History has not chosen one truth alone, for in England I am hero, and in Spain, I am devil. Perhaps the truth is that I was both.