CHAPTER XIII

THE ALGERINE PIRATES AND THE THIRD DUTCH WAR

AUTHORITIES.--The operations against the pirates of the Barbary

States were recorded in separate narratives, which have been largely

quoted in Campbell's _Admirals_ and Charnock's _Biographa Navalis_.

Playfair's _Scourge of Christendom_ gives full accounts of them. The

operations of the third Dutch war are less fully recorded in the

State Papers than the second, but we have now the advantage of the

French historians. The most copious of these is Troude's _Batailles

Navales_, founded on French official papers. It is particularly full

for the battle of Solebay. Lediard and Colleber are of little value.

An account of the capture of St. Helena will be found in Brookes's

history of the island.

The conclusion of peace with the United Provinces in July 1667 gave the

king an interval of quiet. He had already begun secret negotiations

with Louis XIV., which were certain to lead him once more into

hostilities with Holland, but in the interval there was some work to

be done of a more honourable character. It has been said already that

the Barbary pirates had speedily forgotten the sharp lesson taught them

by Blake. One of the first duties of the navy in the reign of Charles

II. had been to cruise against Algiers. The squadron left by the Earl

of Sandwich on their coast, under the command of Sir John Lawson, had

done something to renew their respect for the power of England, but

it had not done enough. Like most other barbarians and Orientals, the

Barbary pirates could not believe in the reality of a Power which was

not always present to their eyes, and was not exercised with uniform

severity. Therefore, so soon as the second Dutch war began fully to

employ the naval power of England, they resumed their old practices.

From Sallee in the West to Tripoli in the East, their cruisers were

out again plundering and capturing every English ship they found

unprotected by a convoy. No English Government could afford to offend

the whole trading class by allowing these outrages to go on unchecked,

so, in the year after the conclusion of the Dutch war, Sir Thomas Allen

was sent with a squadron into the Mediterranean to expostulate with the

Dey of Algiers, and if possible to bring him to order. Allen sailed

in August, and was off the pirates' stronghold on the 8th of October.

The Spaniards, to whom we were in fact giving the protection they had

now become too feeble to provide for themselves, allowed us to make

use both of Cadiz and of Port Mahon in the Balearic Isles, as naval

stations.

Allen succeeded in making one of the long string of treaties with the

Algerines. These barbarians were generally ready to promise when they

were under pressure, and never hesitated to break their word when our

fleets were out of sight. Their conduct on the present occasion was

in exact accordance with their usual practices. Having secured their

worthless engagements on paper, Allen returned home in the autumn. He

was hardly out of the Straits before they began again. Once more he

was sent out, this time with the determination to make clean work. His

squadron, eighteen strong, sailed from England on the 22nd July 1669

and reached Cadiz on the 30th. From the Spanish port Allen returned to

Algiers, not to negotiate, but to blockade. In this work he had the

assistance of a Dutch squadron under the command of that Admiral Van

Ghent who had burnt the ships at Chatham two years before. The Dutch

had as good reason as ourselves to complain of the Algerines, and in

this field we could act together for a common purpose. The united

efforts of Allen and Van Ghent did something to clear the sea. On

the 8th of August six of the pirates who were fleeing from Van Ghent

were cut off by a detachment of Sir Thomas Allen's squadron under the

command of Captain Beach. They were all destroyed. Those of their crews

who were Mohammedans were made prisoners, the English and Dutch who

were found in slavery among them were restored to their countrymen.

In this year there took place an action which was long remembered in

the navy as particularly heroic, and is interesting because it makes

us acquainted with a singularly fine specimen of the Tarpaulin naval

officer of the seventeenth century. John Kempthorne was a Devonshire

man, the son of an attorney at Modbury, who had fought as a cavalry

officer in the service of Charles I. and had died in poverty. The son

was apprenticed to the sea, and entered the service of the Levant

Company. In 1657, on his way home from the Levant, Kempthorne was

attacked by a Spanish privateer of the name of Papachino, and taken

after a desperate resistance. There is a legend which may be accepted

as a more or less poetical version of the facts, that, having used up

all his bullets, he had recourse to firing bags of dollars into the

Spaniards. Papachino treated him handsomely. In the following year the

Spaniard fell into our hands, and owed his release on comparatively

easy terms to the friendly offices of Kempthorne. Such a man was

obviously destined by nature to end in the fighting fleet. In the

second Dutch war he served with distinction as a captain, and had

the honour to be chosen to act as Rear-Admiral of the Blue in the

battle of the 25th of July. In 1669 he carried an English envoy to

Morocco in his ship, the =Mary Rose=. Having landed his passenger at

Tangier, Kempthorne went on to Sallee, one of the most notorious of

the pirate strongholds. A gale blew him off the coast into the Straits

of Gibraltar. Here he fell in with a squadron of seven corsairs. There

were two small merchant ships in sight. One of the pirates sailed in

pursuit of them, and the other six fell on Kempthorne. The old opponent

of Papachino was not the man to be carried tamely into slavery by any

enemy, however superior in numbers. He fought, and was well supported

by his crew. The =Mary Rose= was cut to pieces, eleven of her men were

killed and seventeen wounded, but Kempthorne reduced the principal

ship of the corsairs to a sinking condition. The others sheered off

and left him to make his way unmolested to Cadiz. All sea fighting at

this time was fierce, but there was a peculiar quality of ferocity in

actions with the Barbary pirates. They themselves gave their victims

the choice of slavery or death, and it was given to them. Immediately

before this action in the Straits, Kempthorne had retaken a prize from

the corsairs, and had sold the prize-crew of twenty-two men as slaves.

Kempthorne's fight lived long in the memory of the navy as a model of

stout-hearted courage, and it rounds the story off pleasantly that he

was imitated eleven years later by his son, Captain Morgan Kempthorne.

In 1681 the younger Kempthorne, who was then twenty-three years of

age, was commander of a small vessel called the =Kingfisher= in the

Mediterranean. He was attacked by a squadron of Algerines, said to have

consisted of seven vessels, one more than the force his father had

fought. The =Kingfisher= repeated the obstinate resistance of the =Mary

Rose=. Morgan Kempthorne was himself killed by a cannon-shot early in

the action, but his lieutenant, Wrenn, an officer who afterwards rose

to high rank, filled his place. The pirates were finally beaten off,

and the =Kingfisher=, though seriously damaged, and having lost a large

part of her men, was carried safely into Naples.

Sir Thomas Allen remained in the Mediterranean till the close of

1670, when he returned home at his own request, leaving his second in

command, Sir Edward Spragge, behind him with a part of the squadron.

During the short remainder of 1670 and the whole of 1671 Spragge

carried out the most uniformly energetic and the most effective of our

cruises against the Barbary pirates. In December 1670 he managed, by

disguising his ship, to tempt some of the quick-sailing pirates to come

too near him, and was able to effect the destruction of one among them.

In the spring of the following year he struck a far more brilliant

blow. News reached him in April that a squadron of Algerines was lying

at Bougie, a port to the east of Algiers. Spragge set out with his

squadron and several fireships, with the determination to destroy them.

A storm crippled one of his vessels so severely that she was compelled

to return to the coast of Spain, and it also inflicted some temporary

damage on a fireship. But, though weakened, the admiral considered

himself still able to deal with the pirates. He refitted the fireship

at sea, and then went on, reaching Bougie on the 2nd of May.

The squadron had approached with a brisk gale, but as it drew near

the land the wind fell, and for the remainder of the day there were

only treacherous breezes, with calms between. In these conditions no

direct attack by the heavy ships was possible, but Spragge was in hopes

that something might be done with a fireship after dark. There were

three vessels of this class in the admiral's force, two small and one

somewhat larger--too large, in fact, to be used conveniently against an

enemy who drew few feet of water, and was hauled up close to the land

on a shelving beach. The smallest of the three was chosen. She could

be rowed, and was therefore independent of the wind. The combustibles

having been arranged and the slow matches laid, the fireship left the

squadron, accompanied by armed boats under the command of Nugent, the

first lieutenant of the flagship. The night was very dark, and the

enemy, lying close under the shadow of the land, was invisible. The

pirates had also no doubt taken the obvious precaution of putting out

their lights. In the prevailing blackness Nugent overshot the enemy.

Calculating that he had gone too far, he stopped the expedition, and

turned back with his own boat only to grope for the enemy. In a few

moments he came upon them, and then silently, with muffled oars,

slipped away to bring on his fireship. At that moment she burst

into flames, alarming the whole coast. Perhaps she was ill fitted,

and the inflammable matter in her caught fire by accident. Perhaps

she was prematurely fired by her men. The work of the "brander" was

singularly trying to the nerves of the crew; they were always liable to

become flurried, and the less resolute among them were subject to the

temptation to seek strength in the use of spirits, which betrayed their

senses just when the utmost coolness was needed. Whatever the cause

of the misfortune may have been, the chance was lost. The enemy was

alarmed, and, as he could succeed only by surprise, Nugent returned to

the flagship.

For nearly a week Spragge was baffled by calms and catspaws of wind.

His second small fireship was consumed through the folly of a drunken

gunner, who fired off his pistol in some idle extravagance, and so

set her in flames. There was now but one fireship left, the =Little

Victory=, and, as she drew eight feet of water, she could not be

used against an enemy who was drawn up on the very edge of the shore.

The corsairs had in the meantime dismasted their vessels to form a

boom, so that the difficulty of attacking them increased as the means

diminished. On the 8th May a convoy of ammunition was seen approaching

Bougie along the coast, escorted by Arab horsemen. But Spragge had

resolved not to go till he had struck an effective stroke, and fortune

favoured his pertinacity, as she is apt to do. He had lightened the

=Little Victory= till she drew only four feet of water. So soon as the

wind served, the greater ships were to engage the forts. Under the

cover they afforded, a detachment of boats was to cut the boom, and

the fireship was to be steered through the opening. Just as the convoy

was nearing the town, amid the premature rejoicings of the Algerines,

the wind began to blow in strong from the sea. Then Sir Edward Spragge

carried out his plan. He himself engaged the forts. The boats, under

the command of the younger Harman, Pearce, and Pinn, cut the boom. The

=Little Victory= was steered through the breach and laid across the

bows of the nearest pirate ship. Under the impulse of the wind the

flames spread quickly, and before next morning there were six skimmers

of the sea the less on the waters of the Mediterranean.

The destruction of the ships at Bougie was a severe blow to the

Algerines. Being unable to avenge themselves on the English, they

vented their rage on their own Dey. He was murdered, and a successor

was appointed. The new ruler did what the old must have done if he

had been spared. He made peace. Even so it required another visit of

Spragge's squadron to Algiers to compel the pirates to keep faith. At

last a treaty was made, and English trade appeared to be safe for the

time from the pirate vessels of Algiers. Spragge returned home in the

spring of 1672, having effected the purpose for which his squadron was

sent abroad with an exceptionally full measure of success.

It was, however, only for the time being. The outbreak of the third

war with Holland in 1672 employed the whole naval force of the English

Government. The fact was soon known to the Barbary States. It is

convenient to forestall the course of events, and finish with this

chapter of naval history. Although the subsequent proceedings against

the pirates belonged to the years which followed the signing of the

peace with Holland, they may be told here, since they form part of

the same story and stand wholly apart from the war in the Channel and

North Sea. The excesses of the pirates were so notorious, and the

outcries of the English merchants so loud, that another squadron was

despatched to the Mediterranean in 1674. The command was given to Sir

John Narbrough. The reader will remember that this officer comes second

in what Lord Macaulay calls the strange line of descent from Myngs

to Shovell. John Narbrough was a Norfolk man, belonging to a family

which held a position intermediate between that of the county families

and the working class. He was, in fact, almost a gentleman by birth,

but his family seemed to have been poor, and the lad, like many other

gentlemen in his position at that time, was apprenticed to a trade.

Whether he was ever, as Macaulay puts it, cabin-boy to Sir Christopher

Myngs may possibly be doubtful. There would be nothing in the habits of

the time to make it improbable. The cabin-boy of an admiral, or even of

a captain, would be very much in the position of the page of a nobleman

or the maid of his wife. We know that gentlemen and ladies of very good

birth served as the pages and maids of people of rank, and that this

position in the household of a great man was not thought discreditable.

Whether he was cabin-boy or not, Narbrough undoubtedly served under Sir

Christopher Myngs, and owed much to his recommendation. He had fought

in the second Dutch war. In the interval of peace he had commanded a

curious expedition into the South Seas. He was sent with a commission

from the Duke of York to visit the possessions of the Spaniards on

the Pacific coast of South America. The object seems to have been to

see whether it would be possible to establish a trade. The commercial

policy of the Spaniards ought to have been sufficiently well known to

the English Court to forbid any such hope. Narbrough reached the coast

of Chili. He was received by the Spanish officials with a mixture

of courtesy and suspicion, and returned, after a brief stay in the

Pacific, having effected nothing. The Spaniards would not allow of

any trade, and Narbrough was too much the king's officer to begin a

course of piracy, after the model of private adventurers when they were

debarred from commerce in the Spanish Seas.

His command in the Mediterranean was eventful and creditable. The

chief offenders on this occasion were rather the Tripolitans than the

Algerines. Narbrough cruised against them all through 1675. He began in

the customary way by negotiations which led to no result, and then had

recourse to active hostilities. In the June of that year he drove one

of their largest ships ashore and destroyed it. At the end of August

he struck another blow at the enemy. The English squadron was cruising

outside Tripoli when a Sattee, a large lateen-rigged ship working both

with sails and sweeps, was seen endeavouring to slip into port by

hugging the shore. It was a calm, and she was worked with her oars.

Narbrough despatched the boats of his squadron to cut her off. The

Sattee, finding that the boats had cut her road home, ran on shore. The

English boats were thereupon anchored close to her, with the intention

of endeavouring to set her on fire by means of a fireship, so soon as

it could be got ready. The Tripolitans were soon made aware of the

dangerous position of the Sattee. Two large armed galleys were sent out

to drive off the English boats and tow the pirate vessel into the bay.

For a time they were successful. The English boats retired, and the

galleys took the Sattee in tow. But while this was in progress the sea

breeze got up. The light frigates of Narbrough's squadron were able to

stand in, and all three corsairs were cut off together. Both the Sattee

and the galleys were now driven on shore, and while in this helpless

position were fired by the English boats.

This blow was so far effectual that the Bey of Tripoli was induced to

open negotiations for peace. Narbrough employed as his representative

his first lieutenant, Cloudesley Shovell. Shovell is the third in

Lord Macaulay's line of descent. He came into the navy under the

protection of Narbrough. He also was a Norfolk man, and his name will

be conspicuous in the campaigns of the English Navy throughout the

whole of the next generation. Shovell was still young, and it is said

that the Bey considered himself insulted by the choice of so youthful

a diplomatic agent. He vented his ill-will by insult to Shovell. The

young lieutenant was by no means of a long-suffering disposition, but

he was an officer of great care and judgment. He bore the insolence of

the barbarian with patience, and in the meantime turned his leisure to

account by making careful observations of the position of the pirate

ships in the harbour at Tripoli. His inspection satisfied him that

the corsairs were open to a vigorous boat attack, and he reported as

much to Sir John Narbrough. Since the Bey was obviously resolved not

to make peace until he was compelled to do so, Sir John decided to

apply the necessary pressure. The year 1676 had now begun, and it was

on the 14th of January that the English admiral resolved to act. The

boats of the fleet were armed and supplied with combustibles. Under

cover of night they entered the harbour. A guardship which was found

lying ready for the purpose of protecting the vessels at anchor was

carried by boarding, and the boats, pushing on, took possession of

and set fire to four of the Bey's best vessels. They then returned to

the squadron without having suffered any loss. This stroke abated the

insolence of the enemy, but he was not yet sufficiently cowed to make a

really satisfactory peace. The English insisted that the pirates should

not only release the prisoners in their possession, but should pay an

indemnity for the damage done to English trade. This they refused to

do. Finding that the burning of their vessels had not been enough,

Sir John Narbrough bombarded the town, and also effected a landing at

a place some distance from Tripoli, and burned a magazine of timber

accumulated for the construction of other cruisers.

The necessity of refitting his squadron now compelled Sir John

Narbrough to return to port. He was allowed to make use of Malta by

the Knights of St. John. After having refitted his ships, Narbrough

returned at once to Tripoli. This persistence finally broke down the

spirit of the corsairs. They agreed to make peace, on the conditions

that they should release their prisoners and pay eighty thousand

dollars. Even yet the work was not thoroughly done. No sooner had Sir

John Narbrough obtained the signature of the treaty and sailed away

from before the town, than some of the pirate vessels belonging to

it (which, having left on a cruise some months before, had escaped

the English squadron) returned. The captains of these adventurers,

supported by their crews, raised an agitation against the Bey for his

weakness. He was compelled to flee. The report of this revolution

reached Sir John Narbrough before he had left the Mediterranean, and

with it came the news that the pirates were again beginning to plunder

English trading ships. He returned to Tripoli, and once more bombarded

the town. This last act of vigour finally persuaded the pirates that

they were the weaker. The new Bey confirmed the treaty made by his

predecessor, and the ringleaders of the revolt were handed over to the

English admiral as a guarantee for the sincere observance of the treaty.

Sir John Narbrough felt justified in returning home with his squadron

in the spring of 1677, but his stay there was short. One or other of

the pirate towns was always sure to seize upon the chance afforded by

the temporary absence of English warships to renew its depredations. On

this occasion it was Algiers which broke its engagements. Undeterred

by the lesson inflicted upon Tripoli, and the memory of the punishment

they had received from Sir Edward Spragge, the Algerines returned to

their old courses in 1677. Narbrough was sent out in the summer of that

year. His second campaign in the Mediterranean lasted for two years,

and was directed against the Algerines. Several of their cruisers were

captured, and on one occasion Sir John made prize of twelve of their

merchant vessels, and two men-of-war which were sailing with them as

convoy. Then he bombarded Algiers, but the strength of the place was

so great that this measure proved of little effect. A success gained

in the month of November in 1678 did more to cow these enemies of

Christendom. The Algerines fitted out a squadron for the purpose of

retaliating on English commerce. It consisted of five vessels--the

_Greyhound_ of 42 guns, the _Golden Tiger_ and _Five Stars_ of 36,

the _New Fountain_ of 34, and the _Flying Horse_ of 32 guns. But

the whole of this squadron fell together into the hands of Sir John

Narbrough, who took it after a smart action and carried it bodily into

the friendly port of Cadiz. This blow so far weakened the Algerines

that Narbrough returned home in May 1679, with fifteen of the ships of

his squadron which stood most in need of repair. He left a detachment

behind him under the command of Arthur Herbert, who remained on the

station till 1682. The active operations of the English fleet were put

a stop to when our navy was reduced to impotence at the end of the

reign of Charles II. Herbert we shall meet again. The operations which

took place under his command are not of sufficient importance to call

for notice.

The third Dutch war, and the last in which England had Holland for a

principal adversary, lasted for two years, from the spring of 1672 to

the spring of 1674. It is not a passage in our history that Englishmen

can look back upon with pride. Our seamen indeed fought as gallantly

as ever, but the leadership they found was of the poorest. This of

itself might have been only a misfortune due to a temporary clouding of

the military intelligence of our chiefs. But the war was essentially

infamous. It was undertaken for no national purpose, and on no

sufficient grounds. It is true that, in a way, it brought us a certain

profit. The colossal piece of brigandage organised by Louis XIV., and

encouraged by the co-operation of Charles II., did undoubtedly give the

death-blow to the commercial supremacy of Holland, and it was England

that stepped into her inheritance. Yet it is certain that the United

Provinces, limited as they necessarily were to a small territory, must

have been outstripped by the great consolidated States about them.

The war can by no possibility have done more than hasten the date of

their fall. As a set-off to what we gained through the distress of the

Dutch, we have to put the immediate loss inflicted on English commerce,

the infamy which the character of the war fixed on our Government, and

the stimulus given to those passions and fears which brought England to

the very verge of a civil war. It may be doubted whether the advantage

we gained was worth the price we paid for it. Unless a small money

profit is a sufficient compensation for a national shame, we certainly

lost. It may be asserted, with as much confidence as can be shown in

maintaining any historical opinion, that the frantic fever of terror

and suspicion, which threw England into the cruelties of the Popish

Plot, can be traced directly to the policy which produced the third

Dutch war.

The conclusion of the peace with Holland in 1667 was due at least as

much to the hidden policy of Charles II. and the aims of Louis XIV. as

to the necessities of the Crown. The King of France was resolved to

extend his kingdom towards the north and north-east, where it was not

shut in by mountain barriers, by absorbing the Spanish Netherlands.

These aims of his had at once excited the fears of the Dutch and of

the more patriotic among English politicians. It was not the interest

of England to see France established as mistress of the Netherlands.

Therefore the second Dutch war was barely over before the majority of

Englishmen were ready to forget their late rivalry with the States, and

to enter into the Triple Alliance with Holland and Sweden. The avowed

object of this league was to compel Spain to make certain concessions

to France, but its unavowed though well-known purpose was to provide

the means of offering an effectual resistance to France if she went

farther than she had yet done. So long as this bond remained unbroken,

there was a barrier in the way of the ambition of the French king. For

that very reason it was the interest of the French king to break the

Triple Alliance, and he found the means of effecting his purpose in the

character and position of Charles II.

The preliminaries of the infamous Treaty of Dover, signed in May 1670,

need not be repeated here. In its main lines this treaty bound the King

of England to assist in the conquest of the Dutch Republic by an army

and a fleet. When the conquest was effected, England was to receive as

her share of the spoil the island of Walcheren and some other points on

the Dutch coast. During the progress of the war Charles was to receive

a pension from the King of France. The treaty was kept rigidly secret,

even from the majority of the king's most trusted servants.

The turbulence of the House of Commons during the sessions of 1667,

1668, and 1669 had unquestionably a large share in inducing the king

to enter into this secret agreement. In 1667 the House was in the

first flush of its anger against the mismanagement which had led to

the final disasters of the war. It was intent on paring down the

expenses of government, and insisted both on apportioning the fixed

revenue for definite purposes, and on inquiring into the spending of

the money voted for the war. It was no less resolute in voting against

a standing army, which the king was endeavouring to form, and against

Popery, which he was dimly suspected to favour. Popular fury was for

a time diverted into a clamour against Clarendon, who was driven from

office and the country. But when the House met in February 1668, it

was found to be intent as ever on investigating the miscarriages of

the war. Peter Pett, the Commissioner of the Chatham Dockyard, and Sir

William Penn were both called before the House and threatened with

impeachment on a long string of charges. The Commons called for and

received a long apologetic statement from Monk. The proceedings against

Penn and Pett fell through, and Pepys contrived to make a plausible

case for the Navy Office, but the House was in so dangerous a humour

that the king did not dare to cross it openly. The war had left him

embarrassed with debt, and it was soon made clear that, until the House

was satisfied that there would be better management in future, it

would not vote a penny for the relief of the king's necessities. The

pressure thus applied to him drove the king at last to promise that

supply should be collected and issued for those purposes, and by such

persons only as the House of Commons should think fit. He agreed, in

fact, to the demand of Parliament to be allowed to appropriate its

votes to particular services. The concession was really great, but the

Commons still refused to relieve the king, and continued to insist on

retrenchments and the regulation of the revenue. In desperation the

king prorogued the House, and did not summon it again for nearly a

year and a half. At last want of money drove him to call Parliament

together in October 1669. It was not found that this interval of delay

had produced any reduction in the passions of the members of the Lower

House. Once more they went into the abuses in the accounts, and they

expelled Sir George Carteret, who had been Treasurer of the Navy.

These incessant attacks, which, though nominally directed against

his servants, were in reality aimed at himself, made the king long

more eagerly for a release from an intolerable position. He found a

body of courtiers who were prepared to assist him in carrying out his

policy of alliance with France against Holland. The members of this

informal council were called the Cabal, a word originally only applied

to what we now call a Cabinet. It happened, oddly enough, that the

first letters of their names, Clifford, Ashley, Buckingham, Arlington,

and Lauderdale, spelt the word, and as their policy ended by becoming

odious, an unfavourable sense was ever afterwards attached to the

phrase. They were called "The Cabal," and the term became synonymous

with everything that was unscrupulous and unpatriotic. With the help

of these men, the king contrived so far to manage his Parliament in

1671 that it voted him something for the payment of his debts. As

the intrigue with Louis XIV. was ripe just at this moment, the money

voted by the House came at a convenient time. It was, however, not

sufficient, and probably would not have been if it had been spent

with more care than was ever bestowed on the management of the king's

revenue. When the time came to give active assistance to the King of

France, it was found necessary to cast about for other resources.

Charles dared not summon his Parliament and ask it for funds to help

the aggressive Roman Catholic King of France to destroy a Protestant

State. A way out of the difficulty was found by plundering the

creditors of the Crown. When Parliament voted the king money, it

was then the custom to raise the funds at once from the bankers, who

advanced the money entrusted to them by their clients on the security

of the revenue. They received 8 per cent. for the accommodation, and

were accustomed to pay their own clients 6--the difference was their

profit. Of course one result of this method of managing the revenue

was, that as the taxes came in they were paid over to the bankers. If

the money advanced by the capitalists had been wasted so soon as it

was received, the king was naturally as poor as ever. This was exactly

what had happened. Money being absolutely indispensable, the Crown

provided for itself by repudiating its debts. Orders were given that

no more payments should be made out of the Exchequer to the bankers.

Thus the king received the parliamentary vote twice over--once when it

was advanced by the bankers, and once again as the taxes came in. This

was the famous closing of the Exchequer which brought such profound

discredit on the Government of Charles II. It was the result of

conducting government on the principles of a wasteful private person.

The closing of the Exchequer took place in January 1672. It put the

king so far in funds that he was able to meet the House of Commons

with some confidence. He could now at least go on to make war without

waiting till the House voted him more money. During the whole of 1671

the danger menacing the Low Countries had been notorious. John de Witt

tried hard to secure allies, and was prepared to make great concessions

to England, in return for support against the French. But the king had

decided that the French alliance was more profitable. The piratical

character of the war was shown by the very first measure taken by the

English Government. Negotiations were still in progress with Holland

when Sir Robert Holmes was ordered to attack the home-coming Dutch

Smyrna and Lisbon convoys. The seventy or eighty merchant ships forming

convoys were known to be laden with very rich cargoes. If they could

be seized bodily, they would not only put a great deal of booty in the

way of officers employed on the service, but would also give Charles's

Government the command of a much-needed sum of money. The duty of

seizing them was given to Sir Robert Holmes. The force at his command

was supposed to be amply sufficient for the work. He had nominally

thirty-six warships under his orders, and, as the Dutch merchant ships

were only accompanied by six men-of-war for their protection, he would,

supposing his force to be efficient, have been able to overpower them

easily. But the strength of his fleet existed mainly on paper. Of the

ships actually ready there were only five or six. Holmes was cruising

with these vessels in the neighbourhood of the Isle of Wight, when

the Dutch fleet under the command of Van Nes came up the Channel. It

had perhaps been supposed by the English Court that the Dutch would

be found unprepared. They were, however, on their guard. Although the

States General had tried to pacify the King of England, they had not

been so foolish as to neglect the risk that he would attack them.

Van Nes had been warned, and was ready to defend himself. Throughout

the whole of the war now beginning, the average conduct of the Dutch

officers was better than it had ever been before. The strong measures

taken by John de Witt to improve the discipline of the service had had

their effect, and it may be believed that the deadly peril of their

country had some effect in rousing the courage of the Dutch. They are

not an easily moved people, but, when once thoroughly inflamed, their

valour is singularly tenacious. On this occasion the Dutch officer

handled his convoy with the utmost skill as well as resolution. Twenty

of his merchant ships carried guns, and Van Nes made use of them as

fighting ships. The decks were hampered with cargo, but this the Dutch

skippers threw overboard to make room for working the guns. Van Nes

adopted the usual order for a convoy. He arranged his warships and

armed merchant ships in the so-called half-moon. This formation had

been adopted by Tromp at the battle of Portland. It was, in fact, an

angle, the flagship being at the apex, and the vessels from which

fighting was expected being arranged in two lines branching out to

right and left from her. The unarmed vessels would be put in the space

contained in the angle. The action began on the afternoon of the 13th

of March. The courage of Holmes was, in fact, more conspicuous than

his good management. If he was outnumbered, it was largely due to his

own fault. On the day before the Dutch came in sight, he had met the

ships returning from the Mediterranean under Sir Edward Spragge. These

were the vessels which had been engaged in the operations against the

Algerine pirates described above. Spragge had passed the Dutch convoy

on the way. He was not acquainted with Holmes's orders, and Sir Robert

did not tell him what they were. The fact, no doubt, is that Holmes

thought himself strong enough to capture the Dutch convoy without help,

and was unwilling to share prize-money with another officer. This was

only one more example of the then general practice of subordinating

the public service to private interests. Holmes paid for his greed by

failure. He found the Dutch far too strong for him. When he attacked

on the afternoon of the 13th of March, the English ships fought well,

for, although Holmes was a man of a conceited, violent, and turbulent

character, he was abundantly brave, and his captains backed him up

stoutly. They could, however, make no impression on the Dutch. When

night fell, they were glad to draw off badly cut up, and the enemy

continued on their way. During the darkness the English ships were

refitted. Holmes's own flagship, the =St. Michael=, was so severely

mauled that he was compelled to transfer his flag to the =Cambridge=,

but he was reinforced in the morning by three fresh vessels. The

second day's fighting was as fierce as the first had been, and was

somewhat more successful. One Dutch vessel was sunk, and five or six

were captured. Several officers fell on both sides. The great bulk of

the Dutch convoy was carried safely into port. Holmes and Spragge are

reported to have had a quarrel. Sir Edward thought that his brother

officer had been meanly anxious to deprive him of prize-money, and the

probabilities are that he was right.

The failure of this attack was a great disappointment to the

Government. The open declaration of war could no longer be delayed.

The king had informed Parliament of his intention to make war on

the Dutch, and referred it to his Declaration for his reasons. The

Declaration, as might be expected where the Government could not avow

its real motives, was a somewhat pitiful document. An attempt was made

to justify hostilities by complaints that the Dutch had not fulfilled

their treaty obligations in regard to Surinam, and had persisted

in offensive measures against our trade in the East Indies. Much

prominence was given to their offences in the matter of the salute to

the English flag. This was a convenient pretext whenever an English

Government wished to quarrel with a neighbour. It could always say

that it was asserting the national dignity. In the present case the

falsity of the pretext was glaring, for the king, who was so exacting

towards the Dutch, was prepared to waive his rights as against the

French. Louis XIV. never would allow his ships to render the salute,

and King Charles did not insist on this mark of deference from his

paymaster. The greater part of the Declaration was divided between

assertions that the Dutch Republic was the enemy of all kings, and

complaints of personal insults directed against King Charles. It was

thought ridiculous, even in times which had a profound reverence for

royal dignity, that an appreciable portion of so serious a document

as a declaration of war should be found to be devoted to a rather

whimpering complaint that the Dutch had drawn pictures of His Majesty

in undignified positions. This wordy document, written in the style of

a pamphlet, produced very little impression on the House of Commons.

Members, in fact, were too intent on resisting the spread of Popery,

and had been made too angry by the king's Declaration of Indulgence to

dissenters, to pay much attention to the war. The session was employed

in passing the Test Act, and in the meantime the campaign against the

Dutch was carried on with such resources as the king had been able to

provide by closing the Exchequer and by taking the money of France.

Although one side had long been resolved on war, and the other had

every reason to consider it inevitable, the fleets of England and

Holland were so little ready that nearly two months passed before

serious operations were begun. The English Government collected its

fleet in the course of March, April, and May by the methods already

described, and in the face of much the same difficulties as had been

met with in former wars. The Navigation Laws were suspended. On the

occasion of the last war this had been done by the king without

question. But the recently published Declaration of Indulgence had

startled Parliament by showing it what extension might be given to the

king's prerogative to dispense with penal statutes. The suspension,

then, of the Navigation Acts did not on this occasion pass without

exciting comment. Yet there was no resistance to the king's exercise

of his authority. In war-time the measure was indispensable. In later

ages Parliament was accustomed itself to suspend the Acts, since it was

evident that the country did not contain a sufficient number of sailors

to man both the merchant ships and the war fleet. Crews were found by

a free use of the press. Officers who had not been employed during the

peace were recalled to the king's service. Such men, for instance, as

Richard Haddock now found the opportunity to serve the king in the

higher commands of his navy. Richard Haddock was the son of William

Haddock, who had served the Commonwealth with distinction, and had

been rewarded by the gift of a jewel as a special mark of favour. The

family had for centuries been seamen and skippers of the town of Leigh

in Essex. Richard Haddock had fought in the previous war, but, finding

no employment in peace, had returned to the command of a merchant ship,

of which he was part owner. There were still hundreds of others who,

like him, were naval officers only in war and merchant seamen in peace.

The difficulties which were put in the way of manning the fleet by the

defects of the Administration were not less than they had been before,

but in this war the King of England did not act alone, and the strain

on the Navy Office was not so great.

While the English fleet was being got ready for sea, the Dutch also

were preparing. The whole extent of their peril had now been revealed

to them. A French army of overwhelming strength poured over their

border. The Loevenstein Party had always been jealous of the army. It

feared the devotion of the soldiers to the House of Orange, and had

not only reduced their numbers, but had disorganised the diminished

force it did maintain by omitting to fill up the higher commands. This

measure, which was intended to make combined action on the part of

the soldiers the more difficult, proved utterly disastrous when the

country was suddenly entangled in war with a formidable enemy. The

towns fell fast before the invader. The neglected army was found to be

utterly inefficient, and it looked for a time as if the end of Holland

had come. The States General made appeals to the Kings of France and

England, but in vain. They were answered by both with demands which, if

complied with, would have entailed the entire destruction of Holland.

There are few more odious passages than this in European history.

Nothing like it was seen again until the time of Napoleon. The States

General, driven to despair, made desperate efforts to prepare forces

for the defence of the country. These efforts, though hampered by the

divisions of the Dutch Admiralty, were more successful at sea than on

land. If the fleet sent to sea under the command of De Ruyter was late

in getting ready, it was at least a powerful and efficient force when

once it had been collected. It consisted of over a hundred vessels.

Between seventy and eighty were of the line or were frigates. If it

had been out a month sooner, it is possible that the naval war might

have begun by a crushing disaster to the allies. The French squadron

appointed to co-operate with the English did not make its appearance

in the Channel till the first days of May. It anchored on the third of

that month at Portsmouth. The command was given to the Count d'Estrées,

Vice-Admiral of France. D'Estrées was not a seaman, but a great noble

who was entrusted with the military direction of the fleet only. The

navy of Louis XIV. was as yet but new and inexperienced. The forty

vessels under d'Estrées were likely to be more of a burden than a

help to the English fleet, yet the vessels were among the finest then

afloat. While the French admiral was at Portsmouth, he was visited by

the king, who admired the size and beauty of his ships. In the meantime

the English fleet was painfully collecting in the Downs. If at this

moment De Ruyter had been in a position to attack, it is extremely

possible that he might have beaten the allies in detail; but his fleet

also was not ready, and so the French and English were allowed to join

one another in the Downs unmolested. The English fleet consisted of

some sixty ships of the line and a number of smaller vessels. Monk

was dead, and the command was again in the hands of the Duke of York

as Lord High Admiral. The king was still childless, and the duke

was the heir-presumptive to the throne; but although this had been

made an excuse for recalling him from active command in 1665, it was

not allowed to prevent him from going to sea in 1672. The second in

command of the English fleet was the Earl of Sandwich. When the whole

force of the allies was collected, it was divided, according to the

custom of the time, into three squadrons, carrying respectively the

red, the white, and the blue flag. On this occasion the White Squadron

consisted wholly of the French. It was natural that they should carry

this ensign, for the flag of the French monarchy was white. But as the

White Squadron formed the van in the order of sailing of a great fleet,

it was made a charge against the Cabal that they had sacrificed the

dignity of England by leaving this place of honour to a foreign Power.

The Red Squadron was under the direct command of the Duke of York. His

vice-admiral was Sir Edward Spragge, and his rear-admiral Sir John

Harman. Sandwich commanded the Blue Squadron, with Sir Joseph Jordan as

vice and Sir John Kempthorne as rear-admiral.

On the 19th of May the whole fleet was at anchor in the Downs when

the Dutch fleet was seen off the North Foreland. The Duke of York

immediately put to sea, with the intention of forcing on a battle. De

Ruyter was perfectly ready to fight, but he was also resolved not to

give battle until he saw a fair prospect of striking an effectual blow.

He therefore drew off before the allies to the coast of Holland. He

perhaps calculated on the inexperience of the French to cause some

confusion in the allied fleet. To judge by the movements of the allies,

the Duke of York and his English advisers were far from sure of the

seamanlike efficiency of their associates. Soon after the fleet had

got under way, the weather became misty and squally. Thereupon the

allies proceeded to Southwold or Solebay, and came to an anchor on

the evening of the 20th. Here they remained, making no movement, for

several days. The fleet was anchored some seven or eight miles off

shore. This was hardly what was to be expected from a commander who

felt confident of the capacity of his force to fight and manoeuvre.

The Duke of York may have had another reason for remaining at Solebay.

The work of provisioning an English fleet was usually so wretchedly

done at that time, that he may very possibly have been already in want

of stores. Yet his necessities cannot have been so great as to compel

him to remain at anchor when an enemy was within a few hours' sail.

Another explanation of his action may be found in this, that the duke

was essentially no commander at all, but only a very dull man who had

acquired some knowledge of the mechanical parts of seamanship, and was

intrinsically incapable of thinking out any plan of action. Such a man

might naturally prefer to remain quiescent till his enemy came in sight

and saved him the trouble of thinking. Whatever the explanation may be,

it can hardly be consistent with the efficiency of the allied fleet

or the capacity of its commander. The disadvantages of the situation

in which the naval force of the allies was kept was patent to many of

the subordinate commanders. A well-known and fairly well-authenticated

story tells how Sandwich expostulated with the Duke of York at dinner

on the evening of the 27th. The Admiral of the Blue called the duke's

attention to the fact that when the wind was from the sea the fleet

was in a dangerous position, and recommended that it should either

stand out or be drawn nearer the shore. What Sandwich probably meant

was, that as it lay, the fleet could get no support from batteries on

shore, and might, if the wind blew from the E. or N.E., be so attacked

that the Dutch could double upon one end of it, part of them placing

themselves outside, and the others coming between the English ships and

the land. This danger might be averted either by getting under way,

or by anchoring so close to the shallow water that the enemy would be

unable to come inside. The warning was much needed, and the advice was

good. But the Duke of York took neither one nor the other. He only

answered with a silly jeer at the courage of Sandwich. The story is

credible enough of the only member of the House of Stuart of whom it

can be said that he occasionally acted like a boor, and was always

essentially dull.

The value of the opinion attributed to Sandwich was demonstrated on the

morning of the 28th of May. The French look-out frigate reported that

the Dutch fleet was at hand. The morning was hazy, and De Ruyter was

close on before he was seen from the flagships. So little was the Duke

of York prepared for a risk of which the probability must have been

patent to every thinking man in the English fleet, that a number of the

boats were getting water. That the ships had not supplied themselves

during the seven days they had been lying idle, speaks volumes for

the slovenly stupidity of the management in the French and English

squadrons. The conduct of the battle is worthy of what had gone before.

The moment the Dutch were known to be coming on, the allies did what

they ought to have done earlier. They got under way, but of course they

had to do in hurry and confusion what they might have done coolly and

in good order. The wind was blowing from the N.E. in the early hours

of the morning. If it had held steady, De Ruyter would have been upon

his enemies before they had time to get into any kind of order, but it

fell for a short space, and then shifted round towards the south. This

pause gave the allies time to cut their cables and get under way. In

the very act of preparing for battle they divided themselves into two,

thereby committing the most fatal possible blunder in the presence of

a capable enemy. The Blue Squadron was anchored to the north. To the

south of it was the Red Squadron, and south of that again the White.

In the usual order of sailing it would have fallen to this last to

lead. If the Duke of York meant to allow the Blue Squadron to lead, he

should have made his meaning perfectly clear beforehand, since, in the

absence of particular instructions, d'Estrées would naturally act on

the general sailing orders. But if the White Squadron was to lead, it

must, with the wind at N.E., stand out to S. of E. on the port tack.

This was the course taken by d'Estrées, and, unless he was told not to

take it, he was right, both because he followed the regular sailing

orders, and because this course would lead him to the open sea. But

while d'Estrées was steering south-east, the Blue Squadron, with the

Red Squadron after it, was standing to the W. of N. They went out on

the starboard tack. Why this course was followed does not appear. It

presented no possible advantage, but had, on the contrary, the serious

drawback that it carried the English ships near the coast, where they

were in imminent danger of being cooped up between the enemy and the

shallow water. Haste and want of thought, or confused directions from

the Duke of York, probably account for the blunder.

When once it had been made, the allied fleet lay at the mercy of

Michael de Ruyter. The course followed by the White Squadron was

carrying it away to leeward, whence it could not return except by

tacking against the wind. The Dutch admiral could therefore afford to

neglect it and employ the main strength of his force in attacking the

English. De Ruyter's fleet had come down in line abreast, stretching

from north to south. The ships at the northern end formed the squadron

of Admiral van Ghent. De Ruyter himself commanded in the centre. The

left wing, or most southerly end of the line, was the squadron of

Bankert. The Dutch admiral ordered this officer to follow and watch

d'Estrées. Bankert's duty was not to force close action with the French

admiral, but to keep himself to windward and check every attempt of

the enemy to return to the support of the Duke of York. This duty he

performed so thoroughly that the French were thrown out of action all

day long. Our ancestors accused d'Estrées of want of personal courage,

or at least of disloyalty to his ally, but it may be that he could not

help himself: having once fallen to leeward, his squadron had not the

seamanship to work back against the Dutch.

While d'Estrées and Bankert were engaged in a distant cannonade, a

furious battle was raging between the squadrons of Van Ghent and De

Ruyter on the one hand, and the Blue and Red Squadrons on the other.

Whether he deliberately planned to do it or not, De Ruyter contrived to

concentrate a superior force on the English line. In the order in which

we went into action, the ships at the head of the line were commanded

by Sir John Kempthorne. Next to him came the Earl of Sandwich, with

his flag in the =Royal James=. Sir Joseph Jordan followed the Admiral

of the Blue. Then came Sir John Harman, with the rear ships of the Red

Squadron. Then the Duke of York, and then Sir Edward Spragge. It would

appear that the Dutch attack was directed mainly on those parts of our

line which were immediately about the Earl of Sandwich and the Duke of

York. I am not aware that this is anywhere stated, but as it is said,

on the authority of eye-witnesses, that the Dutch had a superiority

of three to two in the battle, and as they certainly could not have

had this advantage after detaching the ships under Bankert if they had

engaged from end to end, I conclude that they managed to be superior

at the point of attack, though only equal in number to the English

fleet, by concentrating in this way. It is made further probable that

this was the case by the fact that, after the battle had lasted some

time, Sir Joseph Jordan tacked with his division of the Blue Squadron,

gained the wind of the Dutch, and came to the support of the Duke

of York, who was hard pressed. It is said, indeed, that Jordan had

previously beaten off his own immediate assailants, but the conduct of

the Dutch in the other parts of the battle renders it improbable that

Sir Joseph would have been in any condition to manoeuvre if he had

been seriously attacked. The probabilities are, that a few vessels only

were employed to watch rather than attack Jordan, and that the main

strength of the Dutch was concentrated on the flags of Sandwich and

the Duke of York. It is certain that at these two points the English

suffered very severely. As De Ruyter bore down on the English line,

he summoned his steersman, or, as we should say, quartermaster, to

him, and, pointing with his finger to the Duke of York's flagship, the

=Prince=, said, "That's our man." The _Seven Provinces_, in which,

as in the former war, De Ruyter had hoisted his flag, was brought to

within pistol-shot of the =Prince=, and the two admirals set an example

of fierce and close fighting to their fleets. The Dutch boasted that

the broadsides of De Ruyter were fired with the rapidity of volleys of

musketry, and, as he had no doubt kept his old crew and many of his

old officers about him, he may well have had them in a high state of

efficiency. The gunnery of the English fleet was generally good, and

there was abundance of courage, but the discipline had fallen from

the standard of former years. The =Prince= was cut to pieces without

being able to inflict equivalent damage on the _Seven Provinces_. The

Duke of York's mainmast was shot down, and his vessel otherwise so

damaged that he transferred himself and his flag to the =St. Michael=,

of which Sir Robert Holmes was captain. Although a regular corps of

naval officers was being formed, it had not yet been made the rule

that a man who served as admiral on a particular service was always

entitled to that rank, and Holmes, who had been a flag-officer in the

former war, was only a captain at Solebay. The =St. Michael= was nearly

as badly mauled, before the day was done, as the =Prince= had been,

and the duke was again compelled to transfer his flag to the =Loyal

London=, the flagship of Sir Edward Spragge. While the centre of the

English line was thus being broken down under the strenuous attacks

of De Ruyter, the Earl of Sandwich was hotly beset by Van Ghent. The

Dutch admiral himself fell in the heat of the battle, but the =Royal

James= was none the less furiously assailed. Whatever the defects of

his character may have been, Sandwich fought his ship on this the last

and most glorious day of his life with determined courage. The Dutch

steered fireship after fireship down upon him, but they were one after

the other sunk by his guns. At last the enemy succeeded. A shot from

the top of one of the Dutch ships wounded the left foot of Richard

Haddock, the captain of the =Royal James=. He limped into his cabin,

and was under the hands of the surgeon, who was cutting away some loose

skin and one of his toes, when he heard the cry that a fireship had

at last grappled the =Royal James=. It was said that Haddock made his

way out of the cabin to the admiral on the quarter-deck. The amount

of damage suffered by the ship makes it probable that some of her

spars had fallen, bringing down the sails with them, which would be

hanging over the side, and that they caught fire in the flames of the

fireship. It is at least certain that the =Royal James= was blazing

in a moment, and it is difficult to account for the rapidity of the

conflagration in any other way than this. Haddock, so the story runs,

implored the admiral to throw himself overboard and endeavour to escape

by swimming, but Sandwich, stung by the Duke of York's unmannerly sneer

at his well-proved courage, chose to perish in his ship. It is probable

that this is a legend invented by someone unfriendly to the duke, for

the purpose of increasing the glory of Sandwich. If he had stayed, he

would have been burnt in his ship. But his body was picked up some

days afterwards, so disfigured that it was only recognised by the star

on his coat. The great majority of the officers and men of the =Royal

James= perished with the admiral. Haddock was picked up, and it is said

by the Dutch that one of the lieutenants was taken out of the water by

their boats. They put into the mouth of this officer a confession of

his admiration for their fighting, and a statement that this battle

exceeded anything seen in the previous war. "It is not yet midday," he

is reported to have said, "and more has been done than in any of the

Four Days' Battles." Whether any imprisoned English officer said these

words or not, it is true that the battle of Solebay was extraordinarily

fierce. So savagely had both parties fought, that in the early hours of

the afternoon they were exhausted. It was probably not long before this

that Jordan came to the relief of the Duke of York. He was foolishly

enough abused in the House of Commons as if he had deserted his own

admiral, but his movement was undoubtedly correct. It relieved the

pressure on the centre of the English line, and prevented De Ruyter

from overpowering our fleet as completely as he might have done but for

this interruption. Jordan could, however, do no more than relieve the

over-taxed Red Squadron. De Ruyter was able to draw off, leaving the

English so crippled that they were utterly unable to follow, and the

French, true to their character throughout the whole battle, made no

effort to pursue.

Very persistent but also rather foolish attempts have been made to

represent the battle of Solebay as a victory for us. It was not that,

nor even a drawn battle. It is true that the obstinate valour of the

officers and men averted an utter defeat. On our side, Solebay was a

sailors' battle, to adapt a phrase usually applied to armies. With the

exception of Sir Joseph Jordan's movement to support the Red Squadron,

there was no sign of skilful management among our leaders. De Ruyter,

on the contrary, showed the qualities of a great commander. Though

inferior in numbers on the whole, he took advantage of his enemy's

blunder to be superior at the point of attack, and he pressed his

assault so fiercely home as to inflict the maximum of damage. Then,

having crippled his enemy so effectually that no counter-attack was

probable for some time, he took his own fleet home damaged, but still

in a state to serve. Indeed, so little was he disabled from keeping the

sea, that he met and convoyed home the returning East India ships. The

fruits of victory were his.

Although the whole of the summer remained to the allies, nothing was

done against the Dutch. The French and English squadrons did indeed

pay a visit to the coast of Holland, but they made a very short stay

there, and the trade of the States was not seriously interrupted. The

internal condition both of Holland and England had much to do with

suspending hostilities. In the Low Countries revolt broke out against

the Loevenstein Party. The partisans of the Prince of Orange succeeded

not only in replacing him at the head of the army and navy, but in

restoring to him the whole extent of his authority as Stadtholder. The

De Witts were cruelly murdered by the mob, and their party effectually

destroyed for the time. Although the revolution was accompanied by

circumstances of atrocious barbarity, it was on the whole beneficent

to Holland. William III. made no attempt to undo what the Loevenstein

Party had effected for civil freedom and religious toleration, and

he gave his country what it needed if it was to be saved from the

invader--that is to say, unity of military command. Having no jealousy

of the army, he was able to apply himself with whole-hearted vigour to

making it efficient. Holland rose against the French, as it had risen

against the Spaniards. The dykes were opened, and the country put

under water. During the interval of leisure provided by this desperate

measure, much was done to make the defence of the country once more

possible. In the midst of so terrible a crisis as this, the naval war

was inevitably neglected by Holland. De Ruyter had done enough to avert

the danger of invasion from the sea, and offensive operations against

England would have served no useful purpose. So hard pressed, indeed,

were the Dutch, that they were compelled to land the powder from the

ships to be used by the soldiers.

In England other causes were at work to prevent the Government from

pushing the war. The king found that the old jealousy of Holland had

been replaced, at least for the time, by another and more pressing

emotion. The growth of the power of France, the aggressive policy of

its king, the danger to a neighbouring Protestant State, combined with

the king's obvious intention to favour the Roman Catholics as shown

by his Proclamation of Toleration, had frightened the nation into one

of its paroxysms of fear of Popery. Parliament showed an obstinate

determination to give the king no help in this war. It called in

question his right to suspend the penal laws against dissenters, and

the session was devoted to passing the Test Act, which was especially

meant to exclude Roman Catholics from all offices under the Crown.

Although it was one of the secret articles of the king's treaty with

France that he was to proclaim himself a Roman Catholic whenever a

favourable opportunity occurred, he was compelled to allow the bill

to become law, for fear that an obstinate refusal would provoke an

explosion of disloyalty to the Crown. Hitherto the Parliament had

been profuse in declarations of loyalty to the king's person. It drew

careful distinction between him and his servants, and always professed

to be inspired by a tender anxiety for his safety, even at the moment

that it was engaged in defeating what it well knew to be his policy.

According to his usual custom, Charles escaped the peril by bowing to

it, and by sacrificing his servants. Among those who were thrown over

to pacify the House of Commons was the Duke of York. On the passing of

the Test Act he resigned his commission as Lord High Admiral, and was

therefore necessarily removed from the command of the fleet. He was

replaced by Prince Rupert. The choice of his cousin to command at sea

was probably due less to any confidence the king had in his ability

than to the prince's rank. As the English fleet was to co-operate with

the French, it was desirable to have someone at the head of it whom a

French noble would recognise as his social superior. Louis XIV. had

given strict orders to his officers to avoid disputes with the English,

but it is very doubtful whether even the commands of his own king

would have been enough to compel the Count d'Estrées to render ready

obedience to Spragge or Jordan.

Although he was hampered by the reluctance of his Parliament to vote

him money, and by the growing unpopularity of the French alliance

among Englishmen, the king made an effort in the following year to

push the war against Holland. Six thousand soldiers were collected at

Yarmouth, to form an invading army ready to be landed on the coast of

Zeeland or North Holland, in order to attack the Republic from behind,

while the French troops were pressing on it from the Rhine. Before

it was safe to attempt to land these men on the Dutch coast, it was

absolutely necessary to dispose of the fleet of De Ruyter. The crushing

burden thrown upon them by the French invasion made it hard indeed for

the Dutch to maintain an adequate force at sea. If they could have

devoted the whole resources of the State to the naval war, they might

perhaps have been able to meet the French and English on equal terms.

But this was far from being the case. Their resources did not do more

than enable them to fit out such a fleet as might, "by the help of God

and a good admiral," prevent the enemy from landing an army on their

coast. Happily for them, and for England also, since the success of

King Charles's mean personal policy would have been the establishment

of France in overwhelming strength in the Netherlands, the good admiral

was not wanting to Holland. Michael de Ruyter was admirably fitted for

the work he had now to do. He had to fight a defensive campaign. A rash

man might have yielded to the strain, and have risked the existence

of Holland by fighting an imprudent battle. But De Ruyter, though he

was one of the few commanders who grew bolder as he grew old, was

never rash. On the other hand, a timid man might have been oppressed

by the responsibility of his position, and might have been reluctant

to fight, even when a fair opportunity presented itself. De Ruyter had

just the needful combination of cool, self-possessed caution which

made him refrain from blindly rushing at a threatening danger, and of

intrepidity which nerved him to strike hard when he saw that a blow

could be successfully delivered. He was the last man in the world to

endeavour to behave after the fashion recommended by our own Admiral

Herbert some twenty years later--namely, to get behind a sandbank, and

trust to the effect which the knowledge that the fleet was "in being"

was likely to have on the mind of an enemy. Nor was it in his nature

to attack feebly when the time for fighting had come. Therefore it was

that he stood vigilantly on guard during the summer of 1673 amid the

shallows of the Dutch coast, watching the operations of the superior

allied fleet, leaving them unmolested when nothing was to be gained by

attack, and striking, when the time for blows had come, with might and

main. The success he achieved may be regarded by us not only with the

admiration due to a valiant and skilful enemy, but with something not

remote from patriotic approval. He won, it is true, against an English

fleet, but his victory was gained in the real interest of England.

It was obviously the interest of the Dutch to cripple the naval force

of England before it could be again united with that of France. Since

it was impossible for them, with their then diminished resources, to

do this by being beforehand with a powerful fleet, they resolved to

make the attempt to effect the purpose indirectly. A scheme, of which

De Ruyter himself can hardly have approved, was formed to block the

approaches of the Thames by sinking heavily-laden ships in the Channel.

With this purpose in view, De Ruyter came on our coast early in May,

with a force of 31 ships of the line, 14 frigates, and 18 fireships.

He came as far as the Gunfleet, but no attempt was made to put the

plan into operation. The naval preparations of the English Government

had been timely. It had a sufficient force lying outside the banks to

oppose De Ruyter's squadron. When this was known to be the case, the

Dutch admiral fell back to his own coast. The States General, with the

approval of the Prince of Orange, decided on making no more attempts

at offensive warfare for the present. The only fleet Holland could

afford to equip was stationed at Schooneveldt, a good anchorage between

shallows on the coast of Zeeland. Here it was ordered to lie, and keep

watch on the movements of Prince Rupert.

Shortly after De Ruyter had returned to the coast of his country, the

French squadron arrived in the Downs. It was still under the command

of d'Estrées, and consisted of 27 ships of the line and some smaller

vessels. The strength of the English fleet was 54 ships of the line,

and it was divided into two squadrons--the Red, under the command of

Rupert, and the Blue, of which Sir Edward Spragge was now admiral, in

succession to Sandwich. The Dutch fleet had been raised to a strength

of 55 ships of the line, 14 frigates, 25 fireships, 14 yachts, and 7

galliots--115 vessels in all. But more than half of these were small.

De Ruyter had only 55 battleships to oppose to the 81 of the allies.

The odds were very long. No English admiral has ever had to fight

against such a superiority of real force. Although bad administration

and the example of the Court had done much to injure the discipline

of our fleet, it was still far from being as inferior in efficiency

to the Dutch as the Spanish and French fleets of Nelson's time were

to us. In the allied fleet the English were just equal to the Dutch,

leaving the whole French squadron to give the allies a superiority of

power. The French were still inexperienced, and for that, together with

other reasons, they proved of little use in the campaign. Yet they were

certainly not so inferior to the Dutch as the Spaniards of the Great

War were to ourselves, and De Ruyter cannot have known that they would

not exert themselves fully.

So soon as the whole allied force was collected in the Thames, it

stood over to the Dutch coast. The conduct of the French at the battle

of Solebay had filled the English seamen with suspicion, and it was

decided to put them on this occasion where they could not go off on a

tack by themselves. Prince Rupert took the van with the Red Squadron.

The French, who still formed the White Squadron, were placed in the

centre, with the Blue Squadron under Sir Edward Spragge in the rear.

Our ally was thus sandwiched between two trustworthy English forces.

De Ruyter was found at his anchorage at Schooneveldt. Relying, as

he reasonably might, on his superior numbers, Prince Rupert decided

to make an attempt to draw the enemy out to the open sea, where he

could be crushed. A light squadron of thirty vessels, including

eight French, was sent in with eight fireships to attack the Dutch

at anchor. The wind was from the S.W., and the occasion appeared

favourable. Rupert's effort to draw the enemy proved successful in a

way he had not foreseen. De Ruyter was not the man to lie in a hole

and to think that it was enough to preserve himself in being, in order

to make himself felt by the enemy. He could rely on the zeal of his

squadron. A vehement letter of appeal from the Prince of Orange to the

officers and men on the fleet had been read on every ship. It called

on them to remember that the very existence of their country was now

at stake, to throw aside all selfish care for their own lives, and to

sink all personal animosities for the sake of Holland, This appeal to

the patriotic feeling which is profound in the Dutch heart had been

becomingly answered. De Ruyter had set his fleet a good example by

putting his personal grievances aside. The Stadtholder had appointed

Cornelius van Tromp to succeed Van Ghent. Tromp was an ardent partisan

of the House of Orange, and was very popular with the seamen, but he

was no friend to Michael de Ruyter. His disobedience in the last battle

of the previous war had almost caused a crushing disaster, and there

had been an open quarrel between the two. When, however, Tromp was

named by the Stadtholder as third in command of the fleet, the admiral

promised to forgive what had passed. Tromp was ordered by the prince to

obey his admiral, and the two were publicly reconciled. As no more is

heard of the insubordination of Tromp, he must be supposed to have been

sincere in the promises he gave, not to remember the stinging rebuke of

De Ruyter in the former war.

When, on the 28th May, the allied light squadron was seen to be

approaching, the Dutch prepared to meet the attack by a counter-blow.

Their anchors were apeak, and they were ready to get under way at a

moment's notice. They stood out on the port tack to the N.W., Tromp's

division, which was the rear according to the formal division of the

fleet, being the van in the action. De Ruyter was in the centre,

and Bankert commanded in the rear. So prompt was the action of the

Dutch that the allied light squadron had not time to run back to

the protection of the fleet before the enemy was close on it. It

fled in disorder and with loss. The allied commanders were no less

completely surprised by the vigour of De Ruyter's counter-stroke. They

had calculated that the enemy would be too frightened to take the

offensive. They thought they had to deal with a terrified opponent,

who would have to be slowly and with difficulty worried out of his

lurking-places. Under this delusion they lay at anchor in some

disorder. When, then, De Ruyter stood out to attack them, they had to

get under way in a hurry, and their line was badly formed when the

enemy was upon them. Both fleets stood out to sea on the port tack,

heading to N.W. The Blue Division was hotly engaged by Tromp, and De

Ruyter pressed hard on the French in the centre. Bankert was opposed

to Rupert with the Red Squadron in the rear. The fight was hottest in

the van and centre. The Red Division was comparatively little engaged.

According to the French accounts, d'Estrées, seeing that Rupert was not

pressing hard enough on the squadron of Bankert, ordered some of his

own ships to bear down on the Dutch rear, and they succeeded in cutting

it off from the centre. Then De Ruyter, seeing what had happened,

tacked with his division, and, running through the French ships,

rejoined Bankert. His next move, according to the same authority, was

to turn again to the north and follow Tromp, who in the meantime had

continued on the first course engaged with Sir Edward Spragge. It was

the fortune of these two to be pitted against one another in all the

battles of this campaign. The battle ended in the evening without

decisive result. De Ruyter anchored near West Kappel, and the allied

fleet stood over to the coast of England. This was but a lame and

impotent conclusion after the vigorous movement with which the French

credit themselves. One suspects that the Dutch version is nearer the

truth--namely, that Bankert, finding himself not severely pressed

by Rupert, stood on to assist De Ruyter against the White Squadron,

and that the allies were timidly handled throughout. Certainly, with

eighty-one ships and the weather-gage they might well have done more

against fifty-five enemies to leeward.

The Dutch admiral may perhaps have hoped to do sufficient injury to

a portion of his enemy's fleet to induce him to return home in order

to refit. But the allies continued on the coast, and De Ruyter, who

must by this time have seen clearly that he was not called upon to

contend against great energy or faculty, decided not to wait to be

attacked. Seven days after the battle of the 28th of May, on the 4th

of June, he had a favourable wind from the N.E. The deputies of the

States accompanied their fleets as well as their armies, but were

apparently less timid when sea-fighting was concerned than they were

often found to be on shore. Though the odds were long against him,

the field deputies gave their consent when De Ruyter asked leave to

attack. On the afternoon of the 4th he bore down from windward. As

on the former occasion, the fleets engaged headed to the N.W., with

the rear divisions in the van. The French were no longer in the centre

of the allied fleet, but had resumed the van, the place they had held

at the battle of Solebay, which, as the fleets engaged, was in fact

in rear of the line. In this, as in all his battles, De Ruyter aimed

intelligently at concentrating on a part of the enemy's line, in

order to counterbalance a general inferiority in numbers. The brunt

of the fighting fell on the two English divisions, the Red and the

Blue. Our own historians of the war, who for slovenliness in the use

of terms, vagueness of description, and mendacity of assertion are

nearly unequalled, maintain that the advantage rested with the allies.

Rupert, they say, artfully endeavoured to draw the Dutch off their own

coast by slanting to leeward. The substantial facts covered by this

plausible apology are that the Dutch and English cannonaded one another

until dark; that the English suffered as severely as the enemy, that

the French did nothing, and that on the following day the Red and Blue

Squadrons were found to have suffered so much that the allies returned

to the Thames to refit. Tromp went back to his own coast, having gained

the fruits of victory. He had driven a fleet, more than half again as

strong as his own, off the coast of the Low Countries, had stopped an

invasion, and had cleared the road for trade.

The utter failure of Rupert and d'Estrées to sweep the Dutch fleet

out of the road might have convinced the English Court that the time

had not come for an invasion of Holland from the sea. Yet, unless

something was done, the war would soon appear as ridiculous to

Englishmen as it was already odious. The ships were refitted, 4000

soldiers were embarked in the men-of-war and 2000 others in transports.

Then the whole force was sent back to the coast of Holland, in order,

apparently, to try whether, since it had been found impossible to beat

the Dutch fleet first and land the soldiers afterwards, it might not be

possible to do both things at once.

On the 23rd of July the allies were again on the coasts of the Low

Countries, about the mouth of the Maas. From this point they prowled

along as far as the islands beyond North Holland and then back

again. De Ruyter had been reinforced till he had under his command

about seventy ships of the line. As the English and French had also

been strengthened till the first numbered sixty and the second thirty

battleships, the superiority of the allies was still considerable. True

to his policy of not fighting rashly, De Ruyter followed the enemy as

they sailed to and fro, keeping his own ships in the dangerous banks

and shallows, where the sharper-keeled French and English vessels

dared not follow. But he was still resolute to strike so soon as he

had a fair opportunity. It came on the 11th of August, when both

fleets were close to the Texel. On the 10th the wind was blowing from

the sea, and Rupert pressed in as close as he dared. During the night

De Ruyter slipped between the allies and the land and anchored near

Camperdown. In the morning the wind had shifted to the S.E., giving

the weather-gage to the Dutch. De Ruyter had the permission of the

States to give battle, and he came down with his seventy against the

ninety of the allies. Both fleets were heading to the south, on the

port tack. The French were now actually in the van. The Red Division

was in the centre, under the direct command of Rupert, with John

Harman as vice-admiral and Chicheley as rear-admiral. Sir Edward

Spragge commanded the rear, with Kempthorne as second, and the Earl of

Ossory, the son of the Duke of Ormonde, who served as a rear-admiral

not because he was a seaman, but because he was a gallant gentleman,

for whom the king had a liking, and the son of a great noble. In the

Dutch fleet Bankert led the first division, De Ruyter was at his place

in the centre, and Tromp was once more opposed to his old foe Spragge

in the rear. The plan of the Dutch admiral was identical with that

which he had followed in the previous battles of the war. He decided

to concentrate his efforts on the Blue and Red Squadrons. He did not

do the French the honour to deal with them seriously. Ten vessels were

told off under Bankert to watch them, and then De Ruyter fell with

the sixty left to him on the sixty English. The battle broke into

three separate engagements. Bankert engaged the French at some little

distance. Being much more numerous than their opponents, it was in

the power of the French to stretch ahead, to make the leading ships

turn to windward, and so put Bankert between two fires. They made the

attempt to carry out this obvious movement. The leading subdivision of

the White Squadron, commanded by M. de Martel, turned to windward and

gained a position from which it could have fallen on Bankert. But the

intrepid and steady Dutchman was not minded to remain passive till he

was taken between two fires. He put his helm up and ran through the

French ships still to leeward of him. The French say that the fighting

at this moment was hot, and that they almost succeeded in destroying

Bankert's vessel with a fireship. It would have been unspeakably

disgraceful to them if there had not been hot fighting; as it is, their

inferiority to either the Dutch or English seamen in the contending

fleets is demonstrated by Bankert's success in carrying out a movement

which could never have succeeded against a skilful enemy. It is likely

that the heat of the action was felt much more acutely by the French

than the Dutch. Bankert's captains must have been very much wanting to

themselves if they did not rake the French ships as they passed through

with tremendous effect.

When Bankert broke through the French fleet, he found Rupert and De

Ruyter to the northward and a little to the leeward of him. The English

admiral had not waited quietly for the enemy to bear down upon him. He

sheered off a little towards the sea, for the purpose of drawing the

Dutch out. The intention was to entice them to such a distance from

their own coasts, that they might not be able to run back speedily

and take refuge among the shallows. It was a somewhat poor-spirited

device, since the most effectual way of preventing the Dutch from

returning to their sandbanks would have been to get between them and

the land. Rupert's ships were the more weatherly, and, if he had kept

his wind and had pressed harder on the Dutch, it is possible that he

might have worked through them as Monk had done in the last of the

Four Days' Battle. In any case, severely crippled Dutch vessels must

have drifted down on his line, and if he had remained steady he might

have taken them, whereas by edging away he made them a present of a

margin of safety. Moreover, he laid himself open to a peril which he

may be excused for not having foreseen. When Bankert had run through

the French and found the two central divisions to leeward of him, it

was in his power to join De Ruyter by simply putting himself before

the wind and coming down. This he did, and his arrival enabled the

whole of the Dutch centre and van to concentrate on the Red Squadron.

This misfortune might have been averted by the French. The wind which

carried Bankert to leeward would equally have carried them. But the

French did nothing, and, in fact, took no further part in the action.

They remained idle until late in the evening, when the battle was

over and the victory had fallen to De Ruyter. As the Dutch admiral

pressed closely on Rupert, he had broken through the Red Squadron

towards the rear. When Bankert's squadron joined him, he was able to

concentrate thirty of his ships upon twenty of ours. If the gunnery

of the seventeenth century had not been very wild, these vessels

must infallibly have been destroyed. If the Dutch fleet under the

command of Admiral de Winter in 1797 had been able to bring a force

proportionately superior to bear on the ships of Duncan, he would most

certainly have ruined them. But in the earlier century the fire of

ships' guns was still very ineffective, and therefore Rupert escaped

destruction, though he did not escape defeat. The English squadron was

compelled to fall away to leeward, and to look about for the help of

the Blue Squadron in the rear.

While the French were demonstrating their entire worthlessness as

allies, and while Rupert was being overpowered, the Blue Squadron and

its immediate opponent, the Dutch division of Tromp, were carrying on a

desperate battle by themselves. The story reads like a passage out of

a mediæval chronicle. It has been pointed out already that Sir Edward

Spragge had been pitted against Tromp in the two previous battles of

the war. A species of personal rivalry had grown up between them.

While the fleet was refitting in the Thames, Spragge had visited the

Court, and there, perhaps provoked by some jest, or perhaps merely in

ostentation, had promised the king that he would bring Tromp home

prisoner from the next battle, or would lose his life in the attempt.

Having given the promise, Spragge was the man to endeavour to keep it.

When the battle began, he fixed his attention exclusively on his own

conflict with Tromp. As the Dutch bore down, he did not continue his

course in the wake of the Red Squadron as he should have done, but

lay-to to wait for Tromp. Lying-to means that a ship braces some of her

sails round so that the wind blows them against the mast, while the

others are still kept in such a position that the wind blows behind

them. The two kinds of pressure neutralise one another, and the ship,

instead of forging ahead, begins to drift slowly to leeward. She does

not remain stationary, because the wind is always pushing her sideways

against the water, and, although she moves very slowly, yet she will

drift some miles in the course of a few hours. The result of Spragge's

action was to separate his squadron by a long distance from that of

Rupert. The prince continued moving to the south, though with a slant

towards the west. Spragge floated slowly away to the west. He did not

go alone. Tromp, who was at all times ready enough to separate his

squadron from that of his commanding officer, could not resist the

temptation offered, and he accepted the challenge thrown out to him

by the English admiral. He bore down, and the two squadrons engaged

ship to ship. There was no manoeuvring, no attempt on either side to

gain an advantage by skilful fence. Each side laid on the other with

might and main. Spragge and Tromp engaged ship to ship. Spragge's flag

was flying in the =Royal Prince= and Tromp's in the _Golden Lion_. So

well were the two matched that they had soon beaten one another to a

standstill. Then Spragge transferred his flag to the =St. George= and

Tromp his to the _Comet_. Then they renewed their duel. Before long

the =St. George= was as complete a wreck as the =Royal Prince=. Once

more Sir Edward Spragge prepared to shift his flag, but he was destined

to fulfil the alternative promise he had made the king. He was not to

bring Tromp back a prisoner, but to give his own life in the effort to

take him. His boat had hardly gone ten times her length from the side

of the =St. George= when it was struck by a cannon-shot, which took a

great piece out of the bottom. The crew made a manful attempt to regain

the =St. George=, baling the boat and rowing hard. But the damage done

was too great The boat went down before they could again reach their

ship. Sir Edward Spragge was drowned. Of the short list of English

admirals who have died in battle, the majority have fallen in action

with the Dutch.

The erratic valour of Sir Edward caused no small embarrassment to his

chief. When he turned towards the Blue Division, Rupert found it miles

to leeward of him and in no position to give him any support. The White

Division showed no sign of coming to his assistance, but lay idle to

windward, where it was in vain for the prince to endeavour to reach

them. He made no attempt to reunite with his untrustworthy allies, but,

turning off before the wind, bore down in the direction of the separate

battle raging between the squadrons of Tromp and Spragge. De Ruyter

accompanied him, and for a time the battle ceased between the two

centre divisions. It may be that their powder was becoming exhausted.

The two ran down side by side together, each aiming to regain touch

with the rear division of his own fleet. This was effected towards

evening, and, the fleets being together again, the action was resumed.

The superiority of force was now with the Dutch, for the Blue Division

had been very severely cut up in the action with Tromp, and De Ruyter,

having been joined by Bankert's squadron, had the whole of his ships

together, and excelled the English by some ten vessels. The renewed

action lasted until about seven o'clock in the evening, when De Ruyter

drew off. From the French accounts it appears that they joined Rupert

about this time. Whether De Ruyter withdrew because he saw the French

coming down, or whether the French plucked up heart of grace on seeing

that the Dutch had retired, is uncertain.

This battle ended the war, and it also ended the possibility of a

co-operation between the English and French fleets. It was the firm

belief of every man in the navy, from Prince Rupert downwards, that our

allies had betrayed us. The nation was convinced that the fleet was

right, and it came to be taken for granted that the Count d'Estrées

had deliberately allowed the English to be overpowered. It was said

that he acted on express orders from his king, directing him to keep

his squadron out of action and to leave the Dutch and the English to

exhaust one another. No evidence that any such orders were given has

been produced. If it is improbable that they ever were given, the

reason is rather that they would have been thoroughly silly than that

they would have been base. King Louis and his ministers were quite

intelligent enough to see that if they allowed the Dutch to destroy the

English, they would have to deal with them single-handed. There is no

need to attribute so much unscrupulous, and withal silly, cunning to

the French Government. The inexperience of d'Estrées, and the natural

dislike of Englishmen and Frenchmen for one another, at least in that

century, account quite sufficiently for the failure of the allies to

co-operate with success. The French must have been perfectly well aware

that the English king's alliance with their master was odious to his

subjects. They knew that the English considered them the supporters of

Popery, and they, for their part, looked upon the English as heretics.

In this war the English wished success to their enemy and defeat to

their friend. A coalition is seldom successful in war, and, when it

is conducted under such conditions as these, is inevitably doomed to

defeat.

The battle of the Texel was the end of the war in Europe. When the

fleets drew off from one another on the evening of a long day's

fighting, there was no list of prizes to show on either side. The loss

of life in the English fleet was great, for the ships were crowded with

the soldiers who were to have been landed on the coast of Holland,

and the slaughter had been proportionately severe, but no vessels had

been lost. Still, the victory was undoubtedly with De Ruyter. The

allies retired, giving up even the pretence of an attempt to land men

or maintain a blockade on the Dutch coast. He had, therefore, gained

the main object for which he fought; and if that does not constitute

victory, it is difficult to attach a definite meaning to the word. The

terms on which the allies stood to one another made it certain that

they would not act together again, and, if De Ruyter did not know that

on the evening of the battle, he must have learned it before very long.

The relations of the French and English were patent to all the world.

There is a story that a Dutch sailor, whose comrade expressed some

surprise at the inactivity of the French, explained it by saying, "Why,

you see, they have hired the English to do their fighting for them, and

have no business here except to see that their servants do their work."

That sailor may not impossibly have been an invention of the Dutch

press, which was able and active. But the opinion put into his mouth

was not unlike what was being said in England. Englishmen felt that

the king had sold himself and them, to do the work of Louis XIV., and

the war was intensely unpopular. As was usual with Charles, he yielded

immediately that the opposition of his Parliament and people began to

be dangerous. The war was first allowed to die down, and then peace was

made in the beginning of 1674.

The fighting which took place outside the North Sea was not important

in this war. Some colonial posts were taken and retaken between the

English and the Dutch in the West Indies. Sir Tobias Bridge, who

commanded for us, and Evertszoon, who led for Holland, however, did

not come to an engagement. A more interesting passage of warfare took

place far to the south in the Atlantic. The island of St. Helena had

been early occupied as a watering station and storehouse by the East

India Company. It had once before been taken by the Dutch, and retaken

by us. The Dutch were then, and for long afterwards, in possession of

the Cape of Good Hope, and it was an obvious object of policy with

them to secure possession of all those places on the road to Asia

which could be used for the purpose of refreshing a fleet. They were

always ready to endeavour to correct the oversight by which they had

allowed the island to fall into our hands. In 1672, when the news

of the outbreak of the war reached the settlement at the Cape, an

expedition was at once despatched against St. Helena. It was beaten

off in the first attempt to land, but one of the English planters

turned traitor. A convenient landing-place was pointed out by this man.

The Dutch were able to reach the higher ground, and once there they

soon made themselves masters of the East India Company's little fort.

The governor, whose name was Beale, took refuge in a ship then at the

anchorage, and fled to Brazil. On the coast of Brazil he fell in with

a squadron consisting partly of the king's ships, the =Assistance=

and the =Levant= and the =Castle= fireship, and partly of two vessels

belonging to the East India Company. It was under the command of Sir

Richard Munden. At that time, and indeed to the very close of the

eighteenth century, the voyage to the East Indies was expected to last

six months. Vessels on their way out, or on their way home, always put

in to the Portuguese ports in search of fresh vegetables and water.

Sir Richard Munden had been despatched to protect the home-coming East

India trade from capture by the Dutch "Capers" or privateers, which

were sure to lie in wait for them at the approaches to the Channel.

He would naturally go down to meet them where they could be expected.

The arrival of the fugitives at once showed Munden that he had an even

more pressing duty to perform. If St. Helena was not recovered from the

Dutch, the home-coming trade would almost certainly sail into their

hands and be lost altogether. He was an officer of great spirit, a

Tarpaulin seaman of the best stamp, whose tombstone in Bromley Church

records, that though he died at the early age of forty, he had "what

upon public duty and what upon merchants' accounts, successfully

engaged in fourteen sea fights." Munden prepared to retake the island.

Among the fugitives who had reached Brazil with Governor Beale was a

negro named Black Oliver. Black Oliver was known to possess an exact

knowledge of the landing-places and interior of the island. He had

been sold by his master to a Portuguese, but Munden redeemed him and

took him as guide. The English squadron reached the island of St.

Helena on the afternoon of the 14th of May 1673. It was not observed

by the Dutch. By the advice of Black Oliver, it was decided to land

at a spot, afterwards named Prosperous Bay to record the success of

the enterprise. The command of the landing-party was given to Richard

Keigwen, a Cornishman, who was first lieutenant of the =Assistance=,

and who afterwards had a curious and varied career in the service of

the East India Company. The plan was to climb up the cliffs surrounding

the bay, and then go on to the high ground on the side of James's

Valley, where they would be in a position to dominate the settlement at

the only convenient anchorage in the island. It was no easy work to get

up the cliffs. There was no path, and, in order to effect the ascent,

it was necessary to send one of the party on in advance, who climbed up

the precipice with a ball of twine in his pocket. As the climber made

his way up, his comrades below called out to him, "Hold fast, Tom!" and

the name has remained attached to the cliff. Tom made his way to the

top, and then, by use of the twine, hauled up a rope. The rest of the

party now scrambled up after him. If the Dutch had been on the alert,

the enterprise would have been physically impossible, but they were

quite unaware that the English were in the island. The party marched

past Longwood, destined in after times to be the prison of Napoleon,

and then seized the summit of Rupert's Hill on the east side of James's

Valley. At the same time, Richard Munden brought his ships round to the

anchorage, and the Dutch, attacked both by sea and land, were compelled

to surrender.

The success of the English did not end here. News of the taking of St.

Helena in the previous year had been forwarded to Holland. A ship was

sent out bringing a Dutch governor. She sailed into the anchorage,

where Munden lay with the Dutch flag flying, and was taken. By use of

the same stratagem he all but made a further capture of much greater

value. A home-coming squadron of six Dutch East Indiamen came to the

island, under the impression that it was in the possession of their

countrymen. Two of them laden with rich cargoes fell into our hands.

The other four escaped through the over-haste of the English ships,

which gave them the alarm. Still, the success of Munden was fairly

complete. He returned to England, having achieved a most useful piece

of service, and having fairly earned his knighthood. Keigwen was left

behind as governor, and it is satisfactory to be able to add that Black

Oliver was handsomely rewarded for his services by his freedom and the

gift of a little piece of land.

The third war with the Dutch ended in deserved failure, and was

followed by a period of decadence. Yet the years between 1660 and 1673

were, on the whole, a time of growth. The long and generally successful

series of operations against the Barbary pirates, the victorious

campaign of Harman in the West Indies, the timely intervention of

Munden so far south in the Atlantic as St. Helena, the presence of the

king's ships at Bombay, were proofs that the Royal Navy was already

growing to its full stature. It was putting out its arm round the

world, not indeed to take hold as yet, but to feel its way and measure.

The advance in organisation was real. Though the captain was still only

captain while in commission, and the Admiral of the Red, White, or

Blue held rank only while the fleet was collected, the foundation of

the corps of officers was laid by the list of 1668. The principle was

recognised, and a very slight extension of the practical application

was all that was required to form a complete establishment. What had

been gained was to be held for good. The decline of the navy at the

close of King Charles's reign was due to the personal and temporary

vices of his government. When the reins were again in stronger hands

the lost ground could be rapidly recovered, and it would be found that

the work of the earlier and better years was a permanent possession.