THE SECOND DUTCH WAR TO THE FOUR DAYS' BATTLE
AUTHORITIES.--The State Papers, which are very fully copied in the
Calendars for these years, are by far the best authorities for
the events of the second. The official narrative of the battle of
Lowestoft published by the Government, and drawn up by the Duke of
York's secretary, Sir W. Coventry, is printed in the Life of Penn. A
very full account of the Four Days' Battle by a French eyewitness is
to be found in the _Memoirs of the Comte de Guiche_. Clarendon gives
the fullest account of the transactions at Bergen. Captain Mahan's
_Sea Power in History_ and Admiral Colomb's _Naval Warfare_ now become
inestimable, and Pepys, it is needless to say, indispensable. Brandt's
_Life of De Ruyter_, the _Life of Cornelius van Tromp_, and M. de
Pontalis' _Jean de Witt_ give the Dutch side.
If proof were wanted that the Dutch were not prepared for war, it might
be found in the length of time they allowed to the English Government
to get its fleet ready for sea. The cruise of Sir Robert Holmes would
have been more than sufficient provocation to a Power really in search
of a pretext for hostilities. Yet the Dutch let a year pass, and even
then did not fight until they were attacked, for it must be remembered
that the counter-cruise of De Ruyter was strictly limited to the ground
already covered by Holmes, or to reprisals in the colonies. If John
de Witt and his party had been really disposed for a new struggle
with England, it would have been easy for them to attack her at home
while unprepared. Unprepared she was until the early months of 1665.
Happily, the Dutch were not in a better case. The commercial oligarchy
had sacrificed everything to economy, and their fighting fleet was not
ready. Therefore the English Government was allowed time to fit out its
armaments.
It needed every hour which the delay of its enemy allowed. Even as late
as November 1664 the total force of the English fleet ready, or being
made ready, for sea was only this: On the coast of Ireland there were
three vessels. Thirteen were stationed in the Straits of Gibraltar. One
was on duty at Tangier. The convoy to the Newfoundland fishery employed
two, which, with the three assigned to New England, and two at Jamaica,
made seven vessels on the coast of America. There were three on the
Guinea Coast of Africa, one was in the Medway, one on transport duty,
one in the East Indies, fourteen with Prince Rupert in the North Sea,
and twenty-four in the Channel. These ships, sixty-six in all, were
ready, but a third of them were not available for service in Europe.
Thirty-seven others were being fitted for sea. When it is remembered
that this was the state of things a year after the Government of King
Charles had made an attack on the Dutch which must almost certainly
lead to war, it will be obvious that if England was unprepared it was
because her rulers were wanting in foresight, and if the Dutch were not
ready it was because they had not been casting about for an excuse for
a quarrel.
It was, in truth, not easy to fit out a fleet on the scale required
for a struggle with Holland. Parliament was indeed enthusiastic for
the war, and could supply the money. The £243,000 and odd required to
victual 20,000 men for a year were easily voted, and were not difficult
to raise among the merchants of the city, but to get the men and to
equip the ships required more than money. The difficulty of finding
men was immense. The press, though no doubt a powerful instrument of
coercion, did not work satisfactorily in the hands to which it was
entrusted. Corruption had already made way so far that the officials
entrusted with the duty of levying the sailors were vehemently
suspected of taking bribes to allow all who could afford to pay them
to escape. It was only the more miserable who were taken. Peter Pett,
the Commissioner of the Dockyard at Chatham, wrote to complain at the
end of the year of "those pitiful pressed creatures, who are fit for
nothing but to fill the ships full of vermin." At about the same time,
the Duke of York at Portsmouth was complaining that no men could be
found there, and that, unless men could be sent down from the Thames,
some of his vessels must be left behind, or all of them must go to sea
short-handed. Even when the men had been obtained, it was difficult
to keep them. The duke complained that upwards of two hundred men had
deserted in a few days. Furious threats of punishment to be inflicted
for desertion were issued by the Admiralty, and the seamen were told
that they would be hanged as an example if they dared to desert. All
this coercion appeared of very little use, and the Government of the
king was reduced, like the Council of State of the Commonwealth, to
pass Acts for the encouragement of seamen--in other words, to give them
promises of security for prize-money. These produced some effect. At
the same time, the king suspended the Navigation Acts which compelled a
shipowner to man his vessels with Englishmen. This became in time the
usual preliminary to a great war, for there were not enough seamen in
England to man both the trading and the fighting fleet of the country
when this latter was on a war-footing. The Government was so hard
pressed that it made great efforts to secure Scotch sailors, but the
measure did not prove wholly satisfactory. It was doubtful whether
Scotch seamen could be lawfully pressed by the king in England. The war
caused serious loss to the trade of the east coast of Scotland with the
Continent, and as Scotchmen did not consider themselves concerned in
the colonial quarrels of England, they were deeply aggrieved. Numbers
of them undoubtedly fought in the Dutch fleets, where their pay was
secure, which was far from being the case in the fleet of their own
king. However, the Act for the encouragement of seamen produced a good
effect, and by the spring of 1665 a really powerful fleet had been got
together.
While the main fleets were getting ready at home, hostilities were
being pursued abroad. The fleet in the Straits, meaning what we should
now call the Mediterranean Squadron, was under the command of Captain
Thomas Allen, an old Royalist seaman who had served with Prince Rupert.
Allen had succeeded Lawson in command of the force appointed to
protect our Levant trade against the Algerine pirates. In this work
he had had some success, having on one occasion captured no less than
five pirate cruisers. But the approach of war with Holland called him
off from this duty. He withdrew from the centre of the Mediterranean
and stationed himself in the Straits. Here he lay in wait for the
Dutch. Allen's orders were as contradictory as was to be expected,
considering that they were given by a Government which wanted to enjoy
the incompatible advantages of making war on another, and yet of not
declaring itself in open hostility. He was told that he might attack
the Dutch men-of-war, or the Smyrna fleet, but not such of their
vessels as came past in twos and threes. The meaning of the distinction
is not very obvious. Allen also complained that he was not allowed to
attack the Dutch in Spanish ports, which throws a light on the opinion
entertained by naval officers of the time as to what constituted
neutrality. His operations were not at first very successful. While
pursuing what he calls a Dutch fleet, and what was no doubt a convoy of
merchant ships, he ran several of his squadron of nine ships on shore,
where two of them were totally lost. The others were got off, and on
the 19th December 1664 Allen was consoled for this misfortune. He fell
in with the Dutch Smyrna convoy proceeding home under protection of
three men-of-war. It consisted of fourteen sail in all. Allen at once
attacked with his remaining seven vessels, sunk two of the Dutch, and
captured two of the others. One of the two prizes was a rich vessel
from Smyrna. The Dutch vessels which escaped destruction or capture
fled into Cadiz. This operation in the later stages of our history
would have attracted little or no attention, but it passed at that time
for a considerable achievement, and was even, for the greater glory
of the nation, very much exaggerated. The fourteen Dutch vessels were
swollen out to forty. We were not, in truth, so honestly persuaded of
our superiority to the Dutch that we could afford to make light of any
success gained against them, or to abstain, it may be added, from mere
vulgar boasting.
When, partly by the press and partly by promises, the fleet had at last
been manned, it was concentrated in the North Sea under the command of
the Duke of York. The duke himself went as Lord High Admiral, having
Penn in the flagship as his naval adviser, and Lawson as his second in
command of the centre or Red Squadron. The White Squadron was commanded
by Prince Rupert, with Myngs and Sansum as his second and third. The
Blue Squadron was under the command of Sandwich, with Cuttins and Sir
George Ayscue as his subordinates.
It would seem that our fleet was a little farther advanced than the
enemy in readiness. In the early days of May the Duke of York sailed
over to the coast of Holland, and stationed himself opposite the Texel,
in hope of provoking the Dutch to come out to battle, or, if he failed
in this purpose, of inflicting serious damage on their commerce. The
Dutch did not, however, put to sea at once, and the duke was compelled
to return to England by want of provisions. The complaint that the
victuals provided would not be sufficient had been heard for months,
and nothing gives a more vivid impression of the administrative
inefficiency of the time than the fact that it had not produced a
remedy. The English fleet returned to the coast of Suffolk to take
in stores. While there, it was visited by Court ladies and joined
by numbers of volunteers. In later times gentlemen of distinguished
family who had offered to lumber the quarter-deck of a flagship in
the Channel would probably have been answered in the spirit of the
boatswain in _The Tempest_--"You mar our labour: keep your cabins:
you do assist the storm." But in the seventeenth century it was not
yet thoroughly understood that a spirited and willing gentleman may
be a superfluity in a fight, if he has no training to the business.
The fleet of the Duke of York was full of nobles and gentlemen who
came to serve a campaign. The business of victualling the fleet was
but slowly performed, and the difficulties as to men had not yet
been conquered. Sir William Coventry, the Duke of York's secretary,
complained that sailors were not to be got, and gave a very sensible
reason for the deficiency, namely, that men who could earn £8 a month
in a collier--for, under the stress of war, wages had risen to this
height--could hardly be expected to be content with 23s. in a king's
ship, for which, moreover, they had to wait a year. Small wages,
ill-paid, were not made the more acceptable by short allowances of
food, by want of beer, and in some cases by the want even of water.
"The duchess and her beautiful maids," whose departure from the fleet
was noted by Coventry in a serio-comic vein, must have been very glad
to find themselves back in London, even though the plague had already
made its appearance there.
While the English fleet was painfully filling up with provisions and
water, the Dutch had at last got to sea. They were under the command
of Baron Opdam de Wassanaer, who had with him Courtenaer, Evertsen,
and Cornelius van Tromp. Opdam's first purpose was to cover the return
home of Michael de Ruyter with a convoy, then he was to seek out and
give battle to the English fleet. The Dutch admiral, though a man of
undoubted courage, as he showed in the ensuing action, was not much
disposed to engage the English except at an advantage. He was aware of
the inferior size of his ships, and also that the military spirit of a
number of his captains was not good. Therefore, though he discharged
the first part of his duty with success, and even made a great many
captures of English merchant vessels, he showed a certain reluctance
to force on the battle. Although he was short of men, the Duke of
York did not hang back, but stood to sea from Solebay on the 1st of
June, when he heard of the approach of Opdam and his capture of some
English merchant ships from Hamburg. He had an additional motive for
acting with vigour, since the coaling fleet was then on its way south
from the northern ports. The capture of this convoy by the Dutch would
have caused immense inconvenience to London, and would, moreover, have
been a serious misfortune to the duke himself, since it would have
deprived him of his best chance of recruiting his fleet by pressing the
colliers. The promptitude of our movements averted this misfortune. The
coal fleet was met on the 1st of June, and the duke reinforced his
ships by taking out the crews. The vessels were probably left at anchor
near the coast under the charge of one or two watchmen. The wind was
easterly, with a tendency to turn to the S.W. Opdam, distrusting the
quality of his own command, was unwilling to engage, but his reluctance
to fight was overcome by the emphatic orders of John de Witt. The Grand
Pensionary, who was not a man of military training either on sea or
land, may have underrated the difficulties which weighed on the mind of
Opdam, but as a politician he understood that it is sometimes better to
fight and be beaten than not to fight at all, and his common-sense must
have told him that if the Dutch fleet only fought hard enough, it would
certainly make the English pay very dear for their victory. It may be,
too, that John de Witt was secretly conscious of sufficient resolution
of character to make use of those means of keeping the captains up to
their duty which Cornelius de Witt had in vain threatened to set in
motion in the previous war. There was much to be said for bringing on
a battle in order to find who would do his duty and who would not,
provided it was also decided to make a necessary example of such as
showed the white feather.
The first great battle of the second Dutch war was fought on the 3rd
June between thirty and forty miles S.E. of Lowestoft. On the 1st June
the Duke of York had been at anchor at Solebay when he was informed of
the appearance of the Dutch to the S.S.E. He at once weighed, and stood
farther out, coming to an anchor at nightfall. The wind was easterly.
During the whole of the 2nd June the English were working up towards
the Dutch, who continued to decline battle; and as the wind, though
drawing round to the south, was still more or less easterly, they
had the weather-gage, and could not be forced to action. At dark we
anchored again. During the night the wind shifted round to the S.S.W.,
and when the morning came the English were to windward. The duke at
once gave the order to bear down on the enemy. Opdam, stimulated by
the orders of John de Witt, did not decline battle. He would have
done better for Holland if he had attacked while he had the wind in
his favour and could have used his fireships. The battle began at
half-past three in the morning. Rupert led the van. The duke was in
the centre with the Red Squadron, and Sandwich commanded in the rear
with the Blue Squadron. It appears that the Dutch now endeavoured to
regain the windward position which they had held on the day before,
but failed to weather the head of the English line. English and Dutch
passed on opposite tacks, we heading to the north, they to the south.
When the two fleets had passed, there was a pause in the fire. Then
both tacked, which reversed the order of the squadrons so that at
the second "charge" the rear or Blue Squadron under Sandwich led the
English line. It was now six o'clock. The opponents passed one another
again, heading in the reverse of their former direction, the English
towards the south, the Dutch to the north, and once more there was
a pause in the battle. As each fleet consisted of from eighty to a
hundred ships, it must have covered from eight to ten miles of sea,
measuring from the leading ship to the last. As the rate of speed was
certainly slow, not more than three or three and a half miles, it is
easy to understand that each of these passes, or, as they were called
at the time, charges, would take two and a half or three hours to
perform. Both fleets tacked together for the third pass, and the Dutch
had some hope of weathering Rupert's squadron, which was again leading.
But the duke with the Red Squadron was so well to windward that he
would have weathered them, and they would have been placed between two
fires. They therefore fell to leeward of Rupert. As they were passing,
the duke tacked his fleet, beginning with the Blue Squadron, and thus
brought the English fleet to head in the same direction as the Dutch.
The English fleet now pressed on to the attack so fiercely that they
baffled the attempt of the Dutch to tack. Opdam fought his own ship
bravely till she blew up by the side of the English flagship. Then some
of the Dutch ships in the centre flinched from the attack of the duke
and his vice-admiral, Lawson. They fairly ran to leeward, thus leaving
a gap in the line, through which he broke. The battle now became a
furious mêlée, in which the Dutch were completely beaten and fled
towards their own coast. Their loss would have been more serious than
it was if their retreat had not been covered by Cornelius van Tromp
with a seamanship and indomitable courage worthy of his father.
The escape of the enemy was assisted by a mysterious incident in the
English flagship. Night fell while the Dutch were still struggling
to escape with the English in pursuit. The duke led his fleet in the
=Royal Charles= of eighty guns, and the orders were that the other
ships were to follow his light. The battle had cost us less than a
thousand men in killed and wounded, but it had been extraordinarily
fatal to men of high position, and to those immediately around the
duke. Admiral Sansum had been killed. Sir John Lawson was disabled
by a musket-shot which shattered the bone of his leg above the knee,
inflicting a mortal wound. The Earl of Marlborough, who had been sent
out to take possession of Bombay for the king, had also fallen, so
had the Earl of Portland. In the flagship the Earl of Falmouth, Lord
Muskerry, and Mr. Boyle, gentlemen serving with the duke, were all
killed together, by a chain-shot, close to his side. He was drenched
in their blood, and wounded in the hand by a fragment of Mr. Boyle's
skull. The courage of the Duke of York has been praised even by his
enemies, and, although Swift recorded the cruel sneer that he made
a cowardly popish king, we are not entitled to doubt his bravery.
Yet, the horror of such a scene as this, coming on the top of the
fatigues of the battle and the anxiety of the preceding weeks, may
pardonably have been something too much for a man who was not hardened
by experience to scenes of blood and conflict. It is certain that he
left the deck on the persuasion of the officers of his household. It
is no less certain that, shortly afterwards, one of his gentlemen,
Brouncker by name, came up from the cabin to John Harman, captain of
the flagship, who remained on the quarter-deck, with the order to
shorten sail. After more or less hesitation, Harman obeyed. Sail was
shortened in the flagship, and, as the other vessels were strictly
ordered not to pass the admiral's light, the English fleet fell behind,
and the Dutch escaped into the Texel. The truth of this incident was
afterwards wrapped up in a cloud of contradictions, and of what we are
justified in asserting must in part have been lies. The duke denied
that he gave Brouncker the order, and finally dismissed him from his
service. Brouncker, who was of infamous character, was capable of
misusing the duke's name, but it is strange that if he did he was not
sooner punished. The explanation that he was valuable to his master for
services it is not well to record, is as nearly discreditable to the
duke's character as want of firmness could have been in the reaction
natural after such a terrible experience. The truth about the Duke of
York is perhaps that his courage was of the kind defined by Marryat as
negative. He had the nerve to face a foreseen danger when it came in
his way, but not that "springing valour" which can attack and adventure.
The loss inflicted upon the Dutch in this first great battle of the
war was much exaggerated in the excitement of the victory. It was said
that almost all the Dutch officers had been killed, and the number
of vessels taken or burnt was greatly over-estimated. In truth, the
loss of the Dutch in principal officers was less than our own. The
total number of prizes brought into Harwich was fifteen, and it is
doubtful if, when we add the vessels sunk and burnt, their total loss
much exceeded twenty. Their historians put it far lower. It was more
painful to the feelings of a patriotic Dutchman than any mere material
loss could have been, that the defeat was undeniably due at least as
much to the palpable misconduct of some among the captains as to the
superiority of the English in the quality of their ships and the skill
of their leaders. It had been noticed in the previous war that some
of the Dutch captains employed in their fleet, though no doubt good
seamen, were wanting in military ardour. This experience was repeated
in the battle of the 3rd of June. It provoked John de Witt to take
very stern measures. Four of the captains who had deserted their posts
in the line of battle were shot for cowardice. Others whose guilt was
less flagrant were cashiered. Unfriendly critics of the Dutch have
represented that these measures were taken merely for the purpose of
throwing the responsibility of defeat on individual officers, but the
misconduct of some of the captains in the battle of the 3rd of June is
undeniable, and it was of the kind which by the customs of all nations
deserves death. John de Witt obtained for himself a commission from the
States General to join the fleet as deputy. His numerous enemies have
founded on this an accusation of foolish vanity. Professional judges,
both seamen and soldiers, are naturally impatient of the presence of
a civilian in the midst of warlike operations, but there are times
when the interference of a representative of the State is of immense
value. If he comes to hamper the admiral or general he is no doubt a
mere nuisance, but if his purpose is to assist the commander to enforce
discipline, and to stimulate him to vigorous exertions, then the deputy
may supply an element of much-needed vigour. If John de Witt had been a
prince, his conduct would have been thought heroic, and it did instil
a spirit of decision into the handling of the Dutch fleet, which had
hitherto been wanting. It is possible that the Grand Pensionary might
have been less successful if he had not found a commander-in-chief
for the fleet who gave him effectual assistance. This was Michael de
Ruyter. Cornelius van Tromp considered himself entitled to the place.
The disappointment he felt at the nomination of De Ruyter deepened his
hatred of the Loevenstein Party. He conceived a peculiar animosity to
De Witt, which he afterwards showed in a manner highly dishonourable to
himself, by publicly gloating over the corpses of the Grand Pensionary
and his brother Cornelius, when they had been horribly murdered by a
mob. He did not, however, refuse to serve, and the Government, though
well aware of his feelings, did not venture to remove him from command.
The attention given to the war on the part of the English Government
was not so energetic as to interfere with the measures taken by John
de Witt to improve the discipline of the Dutch fleet. The Duke of
York did not stay long on the coast of Holland. His fleet, in truth,
had suffered so severely in the spars and rigging as to be in great
need of a refit. When it was found that the Dutch had contrived to
take refuge in the Texel, the English made no effort to establish a
blockade, but returned immediately to their own coasts. The ships were
brought back to the ports between Lowestoft and Harwich, and refitted
without bringing them into the Thames. Within a month they were again
ready for sea, but did not sail under the command of the Duke of York.
It is to be noted that, in spite of the reputation he has retained
as an admiral, the Duke of York's services at sea during war were
scanty and erratic. In this case, for instance, after commanding in
a successful battle, he was suddenly removed from the command. It is
difficult to believe that this was done wholly against his own wish.
He and his brother the king were not always on the best terms, but it
is not to be believed that Charles would have compelled his brother to
come on shore if the Duke of York had been really anxious to stay at
sea. Much was made of the fact that he was heir to the crown, and it is
said that the duchess laid strict injunctions on the duke's servants
not to let him engage too far, and that it was her influence with the
king that prevented her husband from going to sea again; but the world
has generally thought lightly of the courage of a fighting man who is
kept out of danger by his wife. If his relationship to the king made
his life too valuable to be risked, he ought never to have gone to sea
at all. He was succeeded in the command of the fleet by the Earl of
Sandwich, who was to have been associated with Prince Rupert, but the
prince was reluctant to share authority, and the sole command was left
in the hands of the earl.
Sandwich stood over to the coast of Holland, but found the Dutch not
yet ready to put to sea. The States General had put an embargo upon
commerce, partly to facilitate the manning of their fleet, but partly
also to diminish the risk of loss by capture. A blockade of the Texel
was therefore far from lucrative; and as Charles's Government was, as
usual, in great straits for money, Sandwich was inclined to entertain
any suggestion for making a more profitable use of his force. The Court
was equally well inclined to approve of arty enterprise which was
likely to produce plunder. At this moment a considerable temptation
was thrown in its way. Although the Dutch had put an embargo on the
outward-bound trade, they had naturally not attempted to stop the
return home of their convoys from the East Indies and the Levant. The
vessels belonging to these two fleets had only been instructed to avoid
the dangerous route up Channel, and to return home by the north of
Scotland. Twenty vessels engaged in these two lucrative branches of
the Dutch trade were reported to be lying in the harbour of Bergen in
Norway. They had taken refuge in this port probably in obedience to a
warning from Holland. Norway was then a part of the dominions of the
Crown of Denmark, which was in alliance with Holland, and had indeed
owed its escape from destruction by the Swedes, to Dutch intervention,
only a few years before this time. Gratitude is proverbially a motive
of little or no power with politicians. The then King of Denmark did
not consider that his debt to the Dutch made it obligatory upon him to
abstain from endeavouring to profit by their misfortunes. A scheme for
plundering the ships at Bergen was drawn up. Whether it was suggested
by the English envoy, Sir Gilbert Talbot, to the king, or by the king
to Sir Gilbert, is not quite certain, and it is not perhaps a matter
of much importance. The essential fact is, that a scheme was made for
plundering the Dutch, and that the host with whom they had taken refuge
was a party to it. Sandwich sailed north. He seems to have wished to
be quite sure of the co-operation of the King of Denmark. Indeed, if
it was intended that he was to sail into Bergen and attack vessels
under the protection of Danish batteries, it was obviously desirable
to be sure beforehand of the co-operation of the King of Denmark's
officers. But the king, though perfectly ready to share in the plunder
of the Dutch, had a gentlemanly disinclination to write himself down a
rogue. He refused to allow a written agreement to be made, and insisted
that the scheme should be carried out on an honourable but vague
understanding. Sandwich can hardly have liked his work, for it was
too probable that if the plan failed, the King of Denmark would deny
his own responsibility; and if he also found it useful to vindicate
himself to the Dutch by professing to quarrel with England, the whole
blame would be thrown on the English admiral. It was also within the
knowledge of Sandwich that the Dutch would make a resolute effort to
bring their fleet off safe, and that De Ruyter had been appointed to
the command. The English admiral must have been perfectly well aware
that his Dutch opponent would not fail through want of faculty or
energy. If the Dutch ships at Bergen were to be seized, the work must
be done at once.
The result might have been more profitable to the English if Sandwich
had resolved to attack immediately, and had directed the enterprise
himself. Whether because he thought that the arrival of De Ruyter was
the greater danger, or because he also was anxious to provide himself
with a scapegoat in case of failure, he entrusted the direction of
operations to his subordinate, Sir Thomas Teddiman. Teddiman sailed
into Bergen, accompanied by a Mr. Clifford, who had been sent from
Copenhagen by Talbot with the assurances that the King of Denmark was
friendly to the venture, though he did not care to take an open part in
it. This agent was landed to inform the Danish governor at Bergen that
the English were ready to perform their part in the act of brigandage
approved by his august master. The governor was aware of what was
expected of him, but had not yet received sufficiently definite
instructions from his superior, the Danish viceroy at Christiania.
He asked the English to wait for a little. Teddiman was not disposed
to wait; perhaps he had very small confidence in persons who showed
such a manifest disposition to roguery as the Danish officials, and
perhaps he was afraid of the arrival of Michael de Ruyter. He decided
to attack the Dutch the next day. In the meantime the convoy had taken
vigorous measures for its own safety. Great part of its goods had
been landed on the guarantee of the Danish governor. As the water of
the harbour at Bergen is very deep, the Dutch had been able to draw
their ships up close to the shore, and it was the more difficult to
attack them because the port is broken by masses of rock. If the Danes
had co-operated actively, the Dutch would have been at the mercy of
the associates, but the governor did not render any assistance to
Teddiman. Among persons engaged in carrying out a piece of brigandage,
it is not unreasonable to suspect the presence of the mutual distrust
common among thieves. It may well be that when the Danish governor
found Teddiman attacking in such haste, he may have thought that the
English meant to act without his consent, in order to have an excuse
for carrying off all the booty; and it would indeed be rash to assert
that he was wrong. The upshot of it all was, that when the English fell
on, they were received with a hot and damaging fire, not only from the
Dutch ships, but from the Danish batteries. In the end the English were
driven out to sea. Edward Montagu, a cousin of the Earl of Sandwich,
and several captains were killed in the fight.
On the following day the viceroy arrived from Christiania. This
official appeared to regret what had happened, and endeavoured to
persuade Sandwich to renew the attack, promising that on this occasion
he should not want for effective assistance. At the same time, however,
he suggested that before the English carried off their plunder they
should make a fair division with the Danes. Now the first scheme had
been that the whole was to be carried off by the English, and that the
King of Denmark was to receive his share from the King of England.
Reflection had brought the Danes to the judicious conclusion that it
was much safer to get the plunder into their own hands directly. But
Sandwich had no orders to make this arrangement, and may have perhaps
begun to doubt whether the Danes really meant to help him. He sailed
from the coast of Norway, and so that episode of the second Dutch war
came to an end.
As Sandwich stood to the south on his way back to England, where he
anchored at Solebay, he crossed the Dutch fleet steering to the coast
of Norway to bring off the ships at Bergen. De Ruyter was in command,
and John de Witt accompanied him. They arrived off Bergen at an
exceedingly convenient moment for their countrymen. The Danish governor
had come to the conclusion that there was no reason why he should not
do for himself what he had been told to do with the co-operation of
the English. He attempted to extort a hundred thousand crowns from the
Dutch by threats to sink them with his cannon unless they paid him
this amount of blackmail. The arrival of De Ruyter, and the presence
in the fleet of the greatest statesman in Holland, brought this greedy
ruffian to his senses. The convoy was allowed to go out, and the Danish
governor was left to console himself by seizing a few of the guns which
the Dutch had landed on the shore for their protection. De Witt turned
homeward to Holland with his convoy. In the early days of September
the weather became stormy, the fleets were scattered, a portion of the
Dutch convoy fell into our hands, but the bulk got safe back to Holland.
It was now September, and the time was approaching when, according
to the practice of the seventeenth century, it was no longer safe
to keep the great ships at sea. The fleet then must shortly be laid
up, and could no longer serve to take Dutch convoys, even if any had
been coming home so late in the year. On the whole, the result of
the summer's fighting had not been satisfactory. It is true that we
had gained an undoubted victory over the enemy, but his fleet had
not been destroyed. Amid the ringing of bells and public rejoicings,
the more sagacious men in the employment of the English Government
were well aware that the Dutch would soon be at sea again. The prizes
taken from the enemy had fallen much short of the expectations of the
Court. In spite of large grants from Parliament, the king was greatly
embarrassed. He had hoped that the war would support itself, but this
expectation, which has seldom been realised, was disappointed in this
case also. Sandwich was not well received on his return, and among
the courtiers there was a general inclination to accuse him of want
of energy. Sir William Coventry, who, as the Duke of York's secretary
and a Commissioner of the Navy, had many means of securing a hearing,
was one of the most severe of the earl's critics. A mistake made
by Sandwich on his return home laid him open to the attacks of his
enemies. His flag-officers made him a petition that "in regard of their
having continued all the summer upon the seas with great fatigue,
and been engaged in many actions of danger, that he would distribute
amongst them some reward out of the Indian ships."
The Indian ships were that part of the convoy from Bergen which had
fallen into his hands in consequence of the storm. Sandwich thought
the request reasonable, and wrote a letter to the king, asking for
his approbation. With his usual good-nature, Charles consented. But
before his approval reached Sandwich, the admiral had distributed as
much of the coarser goods as were theoretically valued at £1000 for
each flag-officer, and had taken £2000 worth for himself. Whatever the
motives of Sandwich may have been, his action was undeniably illegal,
and was not less ill-advised. It was a standing and well-known rule
that no prize taken from the enemy was to be touched until it had been
condemned by the Admiralty, and that a distribution of the shares was
to be made on a regular system. Even the king's personal consent would
not have justified Sandwich in breaking the law. But the way in which
he acted was sure not only to embroil him with the Admiralty, but to
arouse a very natural indignation among the captains and the seamen.
They said that the prizes were being plundered for the exclusive
benefit of the admiral and flag-officers, and it cannot be denied that
on the face of it they were right. The merchants interested in the East
India Company were no less indignant than the captains and seamen.
They complained that the Indian goods distributed to the flag-officers
would be thrown on the market at a cheap rate, and would spoil the sale
of those that they themselves had brought from India. The outcry on
all hands was loud, and the king was beset with complaints. According
to the regular practice of all his family, he threw over the servant
of whose action he had just approved so soon as it seemed likely to
cause him any personal inconvenience. The goods distributed to the
flag-officers were seized at the ports by orders of Albemarle, who,
partly by virtue of his office as Lord General, and partly on the
ground of the immense services he had rendered at the Restoration,
exercised a vast irregular influence during the early years of King
Charles's reign. The Duke of York, who, as Lord High Admiral, had
good ground for considering himself personally insulted by an insolent
intrusion on the rights of his office, was furious. Sandwich was
dismissed from his command, and had no further employment in this war,
though he retained sufficient influence with the king to be appointed
to diplomatic missions abroad.
This is the most favourable version of the story for Sandwich, and is,
even so, an ugly symptom of the dry-rot beginning to spread throughout
every branch of the public service. The sailors of the fleet were
months in arrear of their pay. The victualling service was thoroughly
bad. Even when food was supplied, it was of most inferior quality,
and there were loud complaints that, such as it was, it was not
always forthcoming. When Sandwich returned from the coast of Norway
to Solebay, his provisions were exhausted, although he had only been
a few weeks at sea. At such a time a zealous commander-in-chief would
surely not have seized the opportunity to enrich himself irregularly.
Sandwich, judged by the standard of the time, was not a dishonourable
man, yet we see that he went out of his way to grasp at a little money.
His recorded conversations with Pepys leave no doubt that Sandwich
was distinctly influenced by a desire to fill his own pocket. He told
his kinsman that it was better to take the money, and then get the
king's consent to keep it, than to trust to obtaining what the king had
promised he should have. Another remark of his throws a curious light
on the morality of the time. He told Pepys that the King of Denmark
was "a blockhead," for not seizing the opportunity of plundering the
Dutch fleet at Bergen, since he owed the States a great sum of money.
These were the principles of a swindler, and a man who took such a very
lax view with regard to the conduct of others was not likely to be
severe to himself. As a matter of fact, we learn again from Pepys that
the £2000 worth of goods the earl had adjudged to himself were sold
to a London merchant for £5000. When, then, Pepys observed, as he did
about this time, that, however poor the king might be, his principal
officers always took care to provide money for themselves, he was
making a very accurate remark on the morality of the time. It is not
wonderful, when we consider the example that was set them, that the
captains and seamen, who had raised such an outcry over the favours
shown to the flag-officers, were themselves accused of plundering the
prizes. Plunder, in fact, was the general rule of the service. It
raged from top to bottom. The men at the head enriched themselves by
misapplications of money on a large scale. The subordinates pilfered
and wasted. It follows, as a matter of course, that the money voted
by Parliament for the war, which in the hands of the Commonwealth's
Council of State or of Cromwell would have been more than sufficient,
failed entirely to meet the expenses of the second Dutch war. Neither
need we doubt that Pepys was very well informed when he said that the
Court looked forward to another meeting of Parliament with reluctance,
and stood in some awe of the wrath that members were likely to feel
upon discovering what had become of their money.
The difficulties which the Government had created for itself by
mismanagement were materially increased by the plague, which raged
all through the year 1665. It reached not only the dockyards on the
Thames, but the ports on the east coast, the Channel, and even the
fleet. Between the disorganisation produced by the great pest and the
vices of its own administration, the Crown was all but within reach of
bankruptcy by the close of the year. At harvest-time the workmen in the
dockyards had been so long left without pay that numbers of them went
into the fields to work for the farmers in order to escape starvation.
The winter months suspended the operations of the war, but with
the return of spring efforts were made to get the fleet to sea. As
Sandwich had been discredited, and since the Duke of York was so ready
to co-operate with those who were so concerned about his personal
safety, it was necessary to find another leader. The king must have
been allowed to have made the best choice he could when he put his
fleet into the hands of Monk. The Lord General had a reputation and
an influence which made it certain that he would be obeyed by all.
He had much experience of war at sea, and he had the energy of a
great commander. By desperate efforts a fleet of seventy-seven sail
was collected in the Downs in the course of May. Rupert was joined in
command with Monk. The prince had shown a decided reluctance to serve
with Sandwich, but he could not refuse to act with the Lord General.
The Dutch had exerted themselves strenuously to meet the English
on equal terms, and a fleet of from eighty to a hundred ships was
collected and ready for sea under Michael de Ruyter. Our enemy had
some faint prospect of assistance from France in this campaign. In
1662 John de Witt had succeeded in making a convention with France, by
which the two countries agreed to help one another in case either of
them was attacked by a third Power. The case contemplated by the treaty
had arisen when England declared war on Holland in 1665. The States
General called on Louis XIV. to fulfil his obligations. The French king
shuffled and hung back. He hated the Dutch, partly because they were
Republicans, and partly because he knew them to be the most formidable
obstacle in the way of the realisation of his plans for the conquest
of the Spanish Netherlands. At last he could no longer evade making at
least a show of fulfilling his promises without absolute disgrace, and
he therefore promised to send a squadron to co-operate with the Dutch
against the English.
When, therefore, Monk began to collect his command in May, he had to
face the possibility that he would be called upon to deal with the
united Dutch and French fleets. The movements of Michael de Ruyter
were consistent with the supposition that he was manoeuvring to join
the French. He stood across to the coast of England, and kept in the
neighbourhood of the Straits of Dover. A rumour that the French fleet
was coming up Channel worked so strongly on the fears of the Court,
that it was induced to take a measure which might well have proved
fatal to the English fleet. Rupert was despatched into the Channel with
twenty ships selected from the other squadrons, to look for the French,
and Monk's force was thus reduced to fifty-seven vessels.
Some changes in the commands were made necessary by this separation.
Sir Christopher Myngs, who had been vice-admiral of the Red Squadron,
accompanied Rupert as second in command. The ships which remained
with Monk were still divided into three squadrons. Sir Joseph Jordan
succeeded Myngs as vice-admiral of the Red, and his rear-admiral was
Sir Robert Holmes. The Blue Squadron was commanded by Sir George Ayscue
as admiral, with Sir William Berkeley as vice, and John Harman as rear.
Sir Jeremiah Smith was admiral, Sir Thomas Teddiman vice-admiral, and
Captain Utber rear-admiral of the White.
This division of the English fleet seems to have taken place just
before a spell of thick weather and heavy wind from the S.W., which
forced the Dutch off the coast. Being afraid that the wind would
sweep him back too far into the North Sea, De Ruyter anchored on the
shallows of the Flemish coast somewhere between Ostend and Dunkirk.
This was at the very end of May. On the last day of the month Monk was
at sea, on his way from the Downs to the Gunfleet, when his look-out
frigates brought him the news that the Dutch were at anchor in his
neighbourhood. Monk, with the instinct of a general, saw at once that,
being superior to him in number, and in his immediate neighbourhood,
the Dutch might force on a battle to his disadvantage if they once got
the weather-gage. The then direction of the wind from the S.W. gave the
weather-gage to him, and, with a boldness which would have horrified
the admirals of the next two generations, he decided to fall on while
it was still in his power to select his point of attack, and thus to
compensate for his general inferiority of numbers by concentrating a
superior force at a given place.
The battles which followed make up among them the so-called "Four Days'
Battle" of the Annus Mirabilis, 1666. The first encounter took place
somewhere between the Flemish coast from Ostend to Dunkirk on one side,
and the northern end of the Downs on the other. The Dutch had anchored
in three divisions some little distance at sea. They lay stretching
from S.W. to N.E. The south-westerly squadron was that of Van Tromp;
next to him, towards the N.E., was the division of De Ruyter; and
farther still to the N.E., the squadron of Jan Evertszoon. As the
wind was in the S.W., De Ruyter and Evertszoon were to the leeward
of Tromp. This disposition afforded Monk exactly the opportunity he
sought. Coming down from the W. or N.W., on Friday the 1st June, he
directed his attack on the squadron of Van Tromp. The English fleet
was on the starboard tack--that is to say, it had the wind on the
right side, and was heading to the S.E. It passed well clear of the
centre of the Dutch line, and therefore at a greater distance from the
squadron of Evertszoon, in order to fall with all its strength on the
ships of Tromp. The English line was in beautiful order, but, as was
commonly the case, the ships in the rear had a tendency to straggle.
The distance between them and the leading vessel was so great, that
when the ships at the head of Monk's line were abreast of Tromp, those
at the rear were barely visible to observers on the decks of the Dutch.
Tromp, on being attacked, immediately cut his cables and stood to the
south. The battle began at about three o'clock in the afternoon, and
for some time the two fleets ran on cannonading one another. But their
course, if followed far enough, would have stranded both of them near
Dunkirk. Both Tromp and Monk therefore reversed their course almost
simultaneously, and, instead of standing to the S., turned towards the
N. or N.N.E. In the course of these movements the lines had come very
close together, and the English, acting on their usual rule of pressing
an attack home, had stood down on the Dutch. Several English ships
broke through the Dutch line, and among them were the two admirals,
Sir William Berkeley and Harman of the Blue Division. Berkeley was
the brother of the Lord Falmouth killed in the battle of the 3rd of
June in the previous year. His vessel, the =Swiftsure=, being cut off
for a time from all English support, was attacked by several Dutch
ships at once and overpowered. She surrendered, but not until she
was completely cut to pieces and the admiral had fallen. He had been
struck in the heat of the action by a musket bullet in the throat, and,
staggering into the captain's cabin, fell dead on the table, where he
was discovered lifeless and covered by his blood when the Dutch took
possession of his ship. Harman, who had been in equal danger, fought
his way through. His vessel caught fire, and a panic spread among the
crew. Harman, who looks in his portrait by Lely a man of a singularly
fierce type, restored order by his example and a vigorous use of his
sword. The fire was got under, but the fall of a topsail yard broke
the admiral's leg. He did not leave the deck, and, when hailed by a
Dutch officer to surrender, only answered, "No, no; it has not come
to that yet." The fire of his broadside was severe enough to make the
Dutchmen sheer off, and Harman rejoined his fleet. As the English
fleet stood back, De Ruyter had worked sufficiently far to windward to
bring his ships into action. Joining with Van Tromp, he made an attack
with superior numbers on the end of Monk's line. It was here that the
fight was hottest, and the loss most severe. The last of the twilight
had come before fire ceased, but as the darkness fell the Dutch could
see Monk leading his line, little diminished in number, and still in
excellent order, seaward to the west.
This was the fortune of the first day of the Four Days' Battle. The
English had suffered, but they had shown themselves the better fighters
and manoeuvrers. The Dutch must have been depressed by finding
how little their superiority of numbers had availed them. Yet all
had not done equally well on the side of the English. The anxieties
of the last few days had made the Court very anxious to know what
was happening with the fleet. Sir Thomas Clifford was sent to gain
information. Embarking at Harwich in a small vessel, in company with
Lord Ossory, the gallant son of the Duke of Ormonde, he joined Monk
on the 2nd June. We are told by him that there were at that time only
thirty-five ships with the English admiral, and that this weakness was
due to the desertion of some of the smaller vessels. Bad example, bad
pay, bad food were beginning to produce their effect; and although
there were many of a higher courage, and some who, although greedy and
unscrupulous, were yet personally brave, there were others in our fleet
who were beginning to imitate the conduct of those Dutch captains
chastised by De Witt. Men who do not scruple to steal may be brave, yet
it is not unnatural that one kind of dishonesty should lead to another,
and that the captain who got his command by bribery, and made it pay by
pilfering, should have no scruple about deserting his post.
The battle had begun on Saturday the 2nd of June before Ossory and
Clifford reached Monk's flagship, the =Royal Charles=. It had been in
progress since eight o'clock in the morning. When day broke, the two
were in sight of one another, the English to the west of the Dutch,
and both somewhere between Ostend and the North Foreland. The Dutch
were rather to the south, and, as the wind was still at S.S.W., a
little to windward. The two fleets stood towards one another, and the
English ships, being the sharper built and more weatherly, gained the
weather-gage from the Dutch--that is to say, the two lines met at a
very obtuse angle, the English crossing the course of the Dutch, and
passing to the south of them, then they curved inwards, and the two
lines crossed on opposite tacks, cannonading as they went by. The ships
in the rear of the Dutch line were commanded in this battle by Van
Tromp. Seeing that as the English turned in they had fallen off the
wind, he tacked to gain the weather-gage upon them, and thus separated
himself from the bulk of De Ruyter's fleet. At the same time, or very
shortly afterwards, some of the vessels in the van of the Dutch line
behaved in a fashion which shows that the executions of the previous
summer had not yet produced the full effect desired. They turned before
the wind and fairly ran. Thus De Ruyter found himself left at the same
moment by his rear through the wilfulness of one admiral, and by his
van through the misconduct of others. He had but a choice of evils,
and of these he probably chose the less when he bore up and went to
leeward for the purpose of overtaking the runaways, and bringing the
bulk of his fleet again into order. Yet he gave Monk an extraordinarily
fine opportunity of cutting off the squadron of Van Tromp. The English
chief had only to pass to leeward of the Dutchman, and he must separate
him from the bulk of his fleet. Probably because he believed that the
weather-gage was the more advantageous position of the two, Monk did
not take this course. At least it appears that the English passed to
windward of Tromp. In the meantime, De Ruyter, having recalled the
runaway van ships, reversed his course and stood back to the assistance
of his self-willed and unruly subordinate. The two divisions of the
Dutch fleet were allowed to rejoin, and they remained to leeward of us
huddled in a confused body.
There was at this point a pause in the battle. It may be that the
English had defects to make good in their spars and rigging, for the
Dutch, according to their usual custom, fired high. Perhaps Monk
was so conscious of his inferiority of numbers that he did not care
to entangle himself too far. De Ruyter was allowed to restore order
in his line, and then, during the last hours of the day, the fleets
again passed on opposite tacks, and the battle ended in an ineffectual
cannonade.
The absence of Prince Rupert had been acutely felt during this
prolonged conflict. Monk had fought with a remarkable combination of
intrepidity and skill, but, though he had inflicted severe punishment
on the enemy, he could not but know that he was much weakened by loss
and desertion. If Rupert did not return shortly, and the wind were to
shift to the N. or N.E., he might have the whole Dutch fleet on his
hands when it would be no longer possible for him to pick his own point
of attack. On the Sunday, then, he decided to retire into the Thames.
Selecting sixteen of his best and strongest vessels, he arranged them
in a line abreast--that is to say, side by side, stretched from north
to south. The injured and the weaker ships were placed in front, and
the whole body retired together towards the river. The Dutch pursued,
but not with much energy, or at least at no great rate of speed. If it
had not been for an error of judgment, and, I am afraid we must add,
a certain want of nerve on the part of Sir George Ayscue, it would
seem that the retreat might have been successfully effected with very
little loss. Sir George had his flag in the =Prince=, which was counted
the finest ship in the English fleet. Her place was on the extreme
right, or northern end of Monk's line. It was of course desirable to
place powerful ships at the extremities, in case the enemies should
attempt to turn them. The approach to the Thames is made difficult by
successive rows of shallows: one of these is the Galloper Sand, a long
and narrow shoal lying N.E. of the North Foreland, and stretching from
E. of N. to W. of S., and directly opposite the coast of Essex between
Walton-on-the-Naze and Clacton. The pilot of the =Prince=, or whoever
else directed her navigation, miscalculated her room, and the vessel
ran on the southern end of the sand. A few of the other ships touched,
but were got off. This accident was instantly seen by both fleets.
The Dutch crowded on, under the immediate direction of Van Tromp, to
attack the stranded vessel. The English turned for her support, but,
before they could render any effectual assistance, Sir George Ayscue
had surrendered. He was severely blamed for want of spirit, perhaps
unjustly; and yet we cannot but believe that if the =Prince= had
carried the flag of Sir John Harman, she would have made a longer and
perhaps a successful resistance, for she was a heavily-armed vessel of
ninety guns. The loss of the =Prince= was made the more exasperating
to the English by the long-desired appearance of Rupert, who was seen
coming past the North Foreland with his twenty fresh ships, pressing on
to rejoin Monk. The reinforcement came, however, too late to save the
=Prince=. At the sight of Rupert's flag the Dutch did indeed give up
all hope of carrying her off. They removed her officers and crew, and
set her on fire. She burned in the sight of the English fleet.
Monk's often-proved valour and strength of character were never more
conspicuous than now. After three such days the most stout-hearted of
men might have thought that enough had been done for honour. But the
Lord General was resolved to fight again. He anchored for the night,
and on Monday, the 4th of June according to the old calendar and the
14th according to ours, got under way to engage the enemy once more.
The Dutch also had anchored, and when they got under way they stood on
the port tack with the wind still from the south. The English headed
in the same direction, and, being the more weatherly vessels, forced a
close action. Each fleet had fought well on the three previous days,
but on this last they may be said to have thrown away the scabbard.
The English, holding their wind, endeavoured to force their way
through the Dutch line, and, where their enemies were leewardly ships,
or ill-handled, they succeeded. The furious mêlée lasted for hours,
and Rupert's squadron fought as if it was its purpose to make up for
absence on the previous days. At the end of hours of conflict the two
fleets were broken in confused masses, the Dutch to windward here, and
the English to windward there. A portion of the English had headed
the Dutch line: they were pursued by some of the Dutch; while in the
meantime the battle in the centre and the rear was raging between De
Ruyter and Monk, the Dutch admiral being still to windward. Van Tromp,
with all the energy and more than the judgment he had displayed on the
second day of battle, recalled the pursuers, and, joining them to his
own ships, fell on the main body of the English on the opposite side to
that on which they were engaged with De Ruyter. This was the last phase
of the long and desperate struggle. Monk was for a time in great peril,
surrounded by enemies, and deprived of all support from his own side,
but he broke his way through. Even when the fight had clearly gone
against them, the English had sold their defeat dear. Their fireships
had destroyed two of the enemy, nor had any English vessel struck
till she had exacted her full price from the Dutch. Night, a fog, and
fatigue on both sides ended the Four Days' Battle. The English retired
into the river, the Dutch remained outside for a short time, and then
returned to refit.
The Four Days' Battle bears a certain resemblance to Blake's engagement
with Martin Tromp near Dungeness. It was a defeat, but one which did
nothing to diminish the pride of the English seamen or their belief
in their inherent superiority to the Dutch. We had fought against
superior numbers by our own choice, frequently with success, and never
with what could be called rout. At the close we had lost some twenty
vessels, and a number of men estimated by various authorities from 3000
to 5000 in killed and wounded. One admiral had died, and a score of
captains were slain or wounded. Our fleet had retired into the river,
and the enemy was left for a space with the sea clear, but his own
injuries were so serious that he could make no other immediate use of
his victory than to return home and make ready for the next battle,
which he knew well that the English would be ready to offer him before
many weeks were over.
The effect produced in London and at Court by the news of this great
battle is audible to us now in the Diary of Pepys. He is a very unsafe
authority for the truth of any particular statement, for he heard all
the gossip of the day and noted it down as it came. Yet, for that
very reason, he is an invaluable witness to the fluctuations of the
feelings of his contemporaries. We can trust him thoroughly when he
reports how all the world rejoiced in this new victory over the Dutch,
until it learned that we had been defeated, and that De Ruyter was for
the moment master of the Thames. His Diary records the contradictory
rumours of the day, and also the complaints of Monk's rashness, and
the sneers at the misconduct of this or that officer--the snarling
and tittle-tattle of the lower deck and the ward-room. This, also, is
not without its value as evidence. It was ominous of that fall in the
spirit and vigour of the navy which was to come in the next generation,
that men were found to blame Monk for giving battle to superior
numbers. The evil of the time was the gradual debauching of the spirit
of the nation by self-seeking and corruption, and it is visible on
every other page of Pepys. We find him recording that captains were
suspected of deserting their admiral without incurring any particular
shame. He himself, though patriotic and zealous for the king's service
in his way, did not allow the disasters of the fleet to interfere with
his innumerable little schemes for increasing that comfortable private
fortune whose growth he records with such unfeigned satisfaction; and
if others differed from him, it was in being less patriotic and much
more self-seeking.
It is to Pepys that we owe our knowledge of one of the most heroic
scenes of the time. Sir Christopher Myngs, Rupert's second in command,
had fallen mortally wounded on the last of the Four Days' Battle. He
had been shot in the throat, and had held the wound together with his
fingers till a second shot disabled him completely. It was at first
not supposed that his hurt was mortal, but he died within a few days
of the battle. The Council of State had buried Deane, and Cromwell had
buried Blake, in Henry VII.'s Chapel with splendour. The king allowed
Sir Christopher Myngs to be carried to his grave unattended, except
by Sir William Coventry, who went out of spontaneous good feeling,
and by Pepys, who went because Sir William Coventry was going. These
were the only official representatives of the nation at the funeral
of Sir Christopher Myngs, but there were others who of their own
free will came to do honour to the stout-hearted seaman in the name
of the navy. Pepys records how, on leaving the church, he had the
sentimental pleasure of witnessing a truly touching scene: "One of
the most romantique that ever I heard of in my life, and could not
have believed, but that I did see it, which was this:--About a dozen
able, lusty, proper men come to the coach side with tears in their
eyes, and one of them that spoke for the rest began and says to Sir W.
Coventry, 'We are here a dozen of us that have long known and loved
and served our dead commander, Sir Christopher Myngs, and have now
done the last office of laying him in the ground. We would be glad we
had any other to offer after him, and in revenge of him. All we have
is our lives; if you will please to get His Royal Highness to give
us a fireship among us all, here is a dozen of us, out of all which
choose you one to be commander, and the rest of us, whoever he is,
will serve him; and, if possible, do that that shall show our memory
of our dead commander, and our revenge.'" Sir William Coventry was
much moved, and Mr. Pepys even shed tears, but we do not learn that
anything effectual was done. At the time when Sir Christopher Myngs
was allowed to go to his grave neglected, the young captains who owed
their commands to Court influence incurred no punishment for deserting
their admiral in battle. Nobody denied that the impunity permitted to
such misconduct as this was an evil. Sir William Coventry knew as well
as any man how inferior the new captains were to the old, and foresaw
what the consequences of employing them must be. Before the second war
with Holland he had been in the habit of denouncing the little service
the Cavalier captains could do to the king. The evil was not that they
were Cavaliers, but that they got their places for any reason on earth
except fitness to hold them. Neither Sir William Coventry nor any other
man, but one, could have provided a remedy. The king could indeed
have made all right, but he would not. He could not give up his idle,
pleasure-seeking life in order to work at his business of king, and he
would not annoy his friends and courtiers by allowing their relations
and protégés to be punished. Thus the whole standard of conduct and
discipline in the navy was degraded. The king himself was growing tired
of the war, which had brought him neither profit nor popularity, and
within a few months he was about to take a series of steps for the
purpose of obtaining peace, which brought such a disgrace on the nation
as it had never suffered before, and has never been called upon to
endure since.