"_Illustri et nobilissimo Domino Bulstrodo Whitelocke,
Constabulario Castri de Windsor, et Domino Custodi Magni Sigilli
Reipublicæ Angliæ, adque Serenissimam Reginam Sueciæ Legato
Extraordinario; amico meo plurimum honorando._
"Illustris et nobilissime Domine Legate, amice plurimum honorande,
"Quod Excellentia vestra me hesterno die tam magnificè et lautè
exceperit, id ut pro singulari agnosco beneficio; ita ingentes
Excellentiæ vestræ ago gratias, et nihil magis in votis habeo quam
ut occasio mihi offeratur, quâ benevolentiam hanc aliquando debitè
resarcire possim.
"Cum itaque videam ventum adhuc esse contrarium, adeo ut Excellentia
vestra anchoram solvere versusque patriam vela vertere needum
possit; partium mearum duxi aliquo modo gratum meum ostendere animum
et præsentem ad Excellentiam vestram ablegare, simulque aliquid
carnis, farinæ, et piscium, prout festinatio temporis admittere
potuit, offerre, Excellentiam vestram obnixè rogans ut oblatum æqui
bonique consulere dignetur. Et quamvis ex animo Excellentiæ vestræ
ventum secundum, et ad iter omnia prospera exoptem, nihilo tamen
minus, si forte fortuna in hisce locis vicinis diutius adhuc
subsistere cogatur, ministris meis injungam, ut Excellentiæ vestræ
in absentia mea (quoniam in procinctu sum me crastino mane ad regiam
Majestatem dominum meum clementissimum conferre) ulterius inservire,
et quicquid occasio obtulerit subministrare debeant. De cætero nos
Divinæ commendo protectioni, et Excellentiæ vestræ filios
dilectissimos meo nomine salutare obnixè rogo.
"Dabam in arce mea Breitenburos, 23 Junii, anno 1654.
"Excellentiæ vestræ
"Observantissimus totusque addictus,
"CHRISTIANUS, _Comes in Ranzau_."
Whitelocke did the rather insert these letters, to testify the abilities
of the gentlemen servants to this Grave, as also the grateful affection
of their master towards him, a stranger to them, upon one meal's
entertainment and acquaintance.
About six o'clock at night Mr. Smith, son to Alderman Smith, of London,
and two other young merchants of the English company at Hamburg, came on
board to Whitelocke, and brought letters to him from the Resident
Bradshaw, with those the Resident received by this week's post from
London; wherein was little news, and no letters came to Whitelocke,
because (as he supposed) his friends believed him to be upon the sea.
Whitelocke wrote letters of thanks to the Resident, and enclosed in them
letters of compliment to the Ricks-Chancellor, and to his son Grave Eric
of Sweden, and to Sir George Fleetwood and others, his friends, and
entreated the Resident to send them into Sweden.
_June 26, 1654._
[SN: Whitelocke weighs anchor.]
The wind not being so high the last night nor this morning as formerly,
but the weather promising fair, and Whitelocke longing to advance in his
voyage, he weighed anchor about break of day, the 'Elizabeth' did the
like, and they were under sail about four o'clock this morning. As they
came out from Rose Beacon, they told above thirty fisher-boats at sea,
testifying the industriousness of this people.
About two leagues from Rose Beacon they passed in sight of another
beacon, and of a village which they call Newworke, in which is a small
castle like unto that at Rose Beacon. Here the sea began to expatiate,
and about three leagues from hence was the lowest buoy of the river. And
now Whitelocke was got forth into the open German Ocean, a sea wide and
large, oft-times highly rough and boisterous and full of danger,
especially in these parts of it, and as Whitelocke shortly found it to
be. Suddenly the wind grew high and the sea swelled, and they were fain
to take in their topsails; the ship rolled and tossed sufficiently to
make the younger seamen sick, and all fearful.
From this place they might see an island on the starboard side of them,
called Heligoland, standing a great way into the sea, twelve leagues from
Rose Beacon; the island is about six miles in compass. The inhabitants
have a language, habit, and laws, different from their neighbours, and
are said to have many witches among them; their shores are found very
dangerous, and many ships wrecked upon them.
About noon the wind came more to the west, and sometimes it was calm;
nevertheless the sea wrought high, the waves raised by the former storms
not abating a long while after the storm ceased. When they were gone
about two leagues beyond Heligoland, the wind and tide turning against
them, they were driven back again near two leagues short of the island;
but about four o'clock in the afternoon, the wind being come to
south-south-east and a fresh gale, they went on well in their course,
running about eight leagues in a watch. Before it was night they had left
Heligoland out of sight, and got about eight leagues beyond it; and the
'Elizabeth' kept up with Whitelocke.
From hence he came in sight of divers small islands upon the Dutch coast,
which lie in rank from the mouth of the Elbe unto the Texel. In the
evening they spied a sail to the leeward of them, but so far off that
Whitelocke held it not fit, being almost dark, to go so far as he must do
out of his way to inquire after her, and she seemed, at that distance, to
stand for the course of England.
_June 27, 1654._
[SN: At sea.]
The last night, the wind, having chopped about, had much hindered
Whitelocke's course, and made him uncertain where they were, yet he went
on labouring in the main; but the seamen guessed, by the ship's making
way and holding it (though sometimes forward and sometimes backward),
that this morning by eight o'clock they had gained thirty leagues from
Heligoland, from which to Orfordness they reckon eighty leagues, and the
"Fly" to be midway. The ship, which they saw last night, coming near them
this morning, they found to be of Amsterdam, coming from the Sound
homewards: she struck her sails to Whitelocke, and so passed on her
course.
About noon Whitelocke came over-against the Fly, and saw the tower there,
about five or six leagues from him. The wind lessened, and the sea did
not go so high as before; he went on his course about four or five
leagues in a watch. About seven or eight Holland ships made their course
by them, as was supposed, towards the Sound, which now they did without
fear or danger, the peace between the two Commonwealths being confirmed.
Whitelocke's fresh provisions beginning to fail, and his biscuit lessened
by affording part of it to the 'Elizabeth,' which wanted, he was enforced
to order that there should be but one meal a day, to make his provisions
hold out.
The most part of the afternoon they were taken with a calm, till about
seven o'clock in the evening, when the wind came fresh again to the east
and towards the north, and then would again change; and sometimes they
kept their course, and sometimes they were driven back again. The wind
was high and variable, and they toiled to and again, uncertain where they
were. Divers took the opportunity to recreate themselves by fishing, and
the mackerel and other fish they took gave a little supply to their want
of victual. About nine o'clock in the evening they lost the 'Elizabeth,'
leaving her behind about three leagues; she used to keep a distance from
Whitelocke's ship, and under the wind of her, since they began their
voyage; and, as a stranger, would not keep company with Whitelocke, being
discontented because he went not in that frigate.
_June 28, 1654._
[SN: Whitelocke's great deliverance.]
This Wednesday was the day of Whitelocke's greatest deliverance. After
midnight, till three o'clock in the afternoon, was a great calm, and
though the 'President' were taken with it, yet the 'Elizabeth' had a good
wind; and notwithstanding that the day before she was left behind a great
distance, yet this morning she came up near to him, and got before him;
so great is the difference sometimes, and at so small a distance, at sea,
that here one ship shall have no wind at all, and another ship a few
yards from her shall have her sails filled. Notwithstanding the calm, yet
the wind being by flashes large, they went the last night and the day
before twenty leagues up and down, sometimes in their course and
sometimes out of it. In the morning, sounding with the plummet, the pilot
judged that they were about sixteen leagues from the Texel, and
twenty-four from Orfordness, but he did not certainly know whereabouts
they were. Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon the wind came
to north-north-west, which gave them hopes of finishing their voyage the
sooner, and it blew a fresh gale.
About five o'clock in the evening rose a very great fog and thick mist,
so that it was exceeding dark, and they could not see their way a ship's
length before them. Whitelocke came upon the decks, and seeing the
weather so bad and night coming on, and that all their sails were spread,
and they ran extraordinary fast, he did not like it, but called together
the captain, the master, the pilot, and others, to consult what was best
to be done. He asked them why they spread all their sails, and desired to
make so much way in so ill weather, and so near to night. They said they
had so much sail because the wind favoured them, and that notwithstanding
the bad weather they might safely run as they did, having sea-room
enough. Whitelocke asked them if they knew whereabouts they were. They
confessed they did not, because they had been so much tossed up and down
by contrary winds, and the sun had not shined, whereby they might take
the elevation. Whitelocke replied, that, having been driven forward and
backward as they had been, it was impossible to know where they were;
that the ship had run, and did now run, extraordinary fast, and if she
should run so all night, perhaps they might be in danger of the English
coast or of the Holland coast; and that by Norfolk there were great
banks of sand, by which he had passed at sea formerly, and which could
not be unknown to them; that in case the ship should fall upon those
sands, or any other dangers of that coast, before morning, they should be
all lost; and therefore he thought fit to take down some of their sails
and slacken their course till, by daylight, they might come to know more
certainly in what part they were.
The officers of the ship continued earnest to hold on their course,
saying they would warrant it that there was running enough for all night,
and that to take down any sail, now the wind was so good for them, would
be a great wrong to them in their course. But Whitelocke was little
satisfied with their reasons, and less with their warranties, which among
them are not of binding force. His own reason showed him, that, not
knowing where they were, and in such weather as this to run on as they
did, they knew not whither, with all their sails spread, might be
dangerous; but to take down some of their sails and to slacken their
course could be no danger, and but little prejudice in the hindrance of
their course this night, which he thought better to be borne than to
endanger all.
[SN: He orders sail to be taken in.]
But chiefly it was the goodness of God to put it strongly upon
Whitelocke's heart to overrule the seamen in this particular, though in
their own art, and though his own desires were sufficiently earnest to
hasten to his dear relations and country; yet the present haste he feared
might hinder the seeing of them at all. Upon a strange earnestness in his
own mind and judgement, he gave a positive command to the captain to
cause all the sails to be taken down except the mainsail only, and that
to be half-furled. Upon the captain's dispute, Whitelocke with quickness
told him that if he did not presently see it done he would cause another
to do it, whereupon the captain obeyed; and it was a great mercy that the
same was done, which God directed as a means to save their lives.
[SN: The ship strikes.]
After the sails were taken down, Whitelocke also ordered them to sound
and try what water and bottom they had. About ten o'clock in the evening
sounding, they found eighteen fathom water; the next sounding they had
but fifteen fathom, and so lessened every sounding till they came to
eight fathom, which startled them, and made them endeavour to tack about.
But it was too late, for within less than a quarter of an hour after they
had eighteen fathom water, the ship struck upon a bank of sand, and there
stuck fast. Whitelocke was sitting with some of the gentlemen in the
steerage-room when this happened, and felt a strange motion of the
frigate, as if she had leaped, and not unlike the curveting of a great
horse; and the violence of the striking threw several of the gentlemen
from off their seats into the midst of the room. The condition they were
in was quickly understood, and both seamen and landsmen discovered it by
the wonderful terror and amazement which had seized on them, and more
upon the seamen than others who knew less of the danger.
It pleased his good God to keep up the spirits and faith of Whitelocke in
this great extremity; and when nothing would be done but what he in
person ordered, in this frightful confusion God gave him extraordinary
fixedness and assistance, a temper and constancy of spirit beyond what
was usual with him. He ordered the master-gunner presently to fire some
pieces of ordnance, after the custom at sea, to signify their being in
distress. But the gunner was so amazed with the danger, that he forgot to
unbrace the guns, and shot away the main-sheet; and had not the ship been
strong and staunch, the guns being fired when they were close braced,
they had broke the sides of her. Whitelocke caused the guns to be
unbraced and divers of them fired, to give notice to the 'Elizabeth,' or
any other ship that might be within hearing, to come in to their
assistance; but they heard no guns again to answer theirs, though they
longed for it, hoping that the 'Elizabeth,' or any other ship coming in
to them, by their boats might save the lives of some of them. Whitelocke
also caused lights to be set up in the top-gallant, used at sea by those
in distress to invite help; but the lights were not answered again by any
other ship or vessel; particularly they wondered that nothing was heard
or seen from the 'Elizabeth.'
Whitelocke then ordered the sails of the ship to be reversed, that the
wind, being high, might so help them off; but no help was by it, nor by
all the people's coming together to the stern, then to the head, then to
the sides of the ship, all in a heap together; nothing would help them.
Then Whitelocke ordered the mariners to hoist out one of the boats, in
which some of the company would have persuaded Whitelocke to put himself
and to leave the rest, and seek to preserve his own life by trusting to
the seas in this boat; and they that advised this, offered willingly to
go with him.
But Whitelocke knew that if he should go into the boat, besides the
dishonour of leaving his people in this distress, so many would strive to
enter into the boat with him (a life knows no ceremony) that probably
the boat would be sunk by the crowding; and there was little hope of
escaping in such a boat, though he should get well off from the ship and
the boat not be overladen. He therefore ordered the captain to take a few
of the seamen into the boat with him, and to go round the ship and sound
what water was on each side of her, and what hopes they could find, and
by what means to get her off, himself resolving to abide the same fortune
with his followers.
The captain found it very shallow to windward, and very deep to leeward,
but no hopes of help; and at his return the master advised to lighten the
ship by casting overboard the goods in her. Whitelocke held it best to
begin with the ordnance, and gave order for it. Mr. Earle was contriving
how to save his master's jewels, which were of some value; his master
took more care to save his papers, to him more precious jewels; but there
was no hope of saving any goods or lives. Whitelocke put in his pocket a
tablet of gold of his wife's picture, that this, being found about his
dead body when it should be taken up, might show him to have been a
gentleman, and satisfy for his burial. One was designing to get upon a
plank, others upon the masts, others upon other fancies, any way to
preserve life; but no way was left whereby they could have the least
shadow or hopes of a deliverance.
The captain went up to the quarter-deck, saying, there he lived and there
he would die. All the officers, sadly enough, concluded that there was
not the least show of any hopes of preservation, but that they were all
dead men, and that upon the return of the tide the ship would
questionless be dashed in pieces. Some lay crying in one corner, others
lamenting in another; some, who vaunted most in time of safety, were now
most dejected. The tears and sighs and wailings in all parts of the ship
would have melted a stony heart into pity; every swelling wave seemed
great in expectation of its booty; the raging waves foamed as if their
prey were too long detained from them; every billow threatened present
death, who every moment stared in their faces for almost two hours
together.
[SN: Exhorts his sons.]
In this condition Whitelocke encouraged his two sons to undergo the
pleasure of God with all submission. He was sorry for them, being young
men, who might have lived many years to do God and their country service,
that they now should be snatched away so untimely; but he told them, that
if father and sons must now die together, he doubted not but they should
go together to that happiness which admits no change; that he did not so
much lament his own condition, being an old man, in the course of nature
much nearer the grave than they: but he besought God to bless them and
yet to appear for their deliverance, if it were His will, or else to give
him and them, and all the company, hearts willing to submit to His good
pleasure.
[SN: Discourse with the boatswain.]
Walking on the decks to see his orders executed for throwing the ordnance
overboard, the boatswain met him and spake to him in his language:--
_Boatswain._ My Lord, what do you mean to do?
_Whitelocke._ Wherein dost thou ask my meaning?
_Bo._ You have commanded the ordnance to be cast overboard.
_Wh._ It is for our preservation.
_Bo._ If it be done, we are all destroyed.
_Wh._ What reason have you to be of this opinion? Must we not lighten the
ship? and can we do it better than to begin with the ordnance?
_Bo._ It may do well to lighten the ship, but not by throwing overboard
the ordnance; for you can but drop them close to the ship's side, and
where the water is shallow they will lie up against the side of the ship
and fret it, and with the working of the sea make her to spring leaks
presently.
_Wh._ I think thou speakest good reason, and I will try a little longer
before it be done.
_Bo._ My Lord, do not doubt but God will show Himself, and bring you off
by His own hand from this danger.
_Wh._ Hast thou any ground to judge so, or dost thou see any probability
of it?
_Bo._ I confess there is no probability for it; but God hath put it into
my heart to tell your Excellence that He will appear our Deliverer when
all other hopes and helps fail us, and He will save us by His own power;
and let us trust in Him.
Upon this discourse with the honest boatswain, who walked up and down as
quite unconcerned, Whitelocke forbade the throwing of the ordnance
overboard; and as he was sitting on the deck, Mr. Ingelo, one of his
chaplains, came to him, and said that he was glad to see him in so good a
temper.
_Whitelocke._ I bless God, who keeps up my spirit.
_Ingelo._ My Lord, such composedness, and not being daunted in this
distress, is a testimony of God's presence with you.
_Wh._ I have cause to thank God, whose presence hath been with me in all
my dangers, and most in this greatest, which I hope and pray that He
would fit us all to submit unto.
_Ing._ I hope He will; and I am glad to see your sons and others to have
so much courage left in so high a danger.
_Wh._ God hath not suffered me, nor them, nor yourself, to be dejected in
this great trial; and it gives me comfort at this time to observe it, nor
doth it leave me without some hopes that God hath yet a mercy in store
for us.
_Ing._ There is little hopes of continuance in this life, it is good to
prepare ourselves for a better life; and therefore, if you please that
the company may be called together into your cabin, it will be good to
join in prayer, and recommending our souls to Him that gave them; I
believe they are not to remain long in these bodies of clay.
_Wh._ I hope every one doth this apart, and it is very fit likewise to
join together in doing it; therefore I pray send and call the people into
my cabin to prayer.
Whilst Mr. Ingelo was gone to call the people together, a mariner came
from the head of the ship, running hastily towards Whitelocke, and crying
out to him, which caused Whitelocke to suspect that the ship had sprung a
leak or was sinking. The mariner called out:--
[SN: The ship moves,]
_Mariner._ My Lord! my Lord! my Lord!
_Whitelocke._ What's the matter, mariner?
_Mar._ She wags! she wags!
_Wh._ Which way doth she wag?
_Mar._ To leeward.
_Wh._ I pray God that be true; and it is the best news that ever I heard
in my life.
_Mar._ My Lord, upon my life the ship did wag; I saw her move.
_Wh._ Mr. Ingelo, I pray stay awhile before you call the people; it may
be God will give us occasion to change the style of our prayers.
Fellow-seaman, show me where thou sawest her move.
_Mar._ My Lord, here, at the head of the frigate, I saw her move, and she
moves now,--now she moves! you may see it.
_Wh._ My old eyes cannot discern it.
_Mar._ I see it plain, and so do others.
[SN: and rights.]
Whilst they were thus speaking and looking, within less than half a
quarter of an hour, the ship herself came off from the sand, and
miraculously floated on the water. The ship being thus by the wonderful
immediate hand of God, again floating on the sea, the mariners would have
been hoisting of their sails, but Whitelocke forbade it, and said he
would sail no more that night. But as soon as the ship had floated a good
way from the bank of sand, he caused them to let fall their anchors, that
they might stay till morning, to see where they were, and spend the rest
of the night in giving thanks to God for his most eminent, most
miraculous deliverance.
Being driven by the wind about a mile from the sand, there they cast
anchor, and fell into discourse of the providences and goodness of God to
them in this unhoped-for preservation. One observed, that if Whitelocke
had not positively overruled the seamen, and made them, contrary to their
own opinions, to take down their sails, but that the ship had run with
all her sails spread, and with that force had struck into the sand, it
had been impossible for her ever to have come off again, but they must
all have perished. Another observed, that the ship did strike so upon the
bank of sand, that the wind was on that side of her where the bank was
highest, and so the strength of the wind lay to drive the ship from the
bank towards the deep water.
Another supposed, that the ship did strike on the shelving part of the
bank of sand, and the wind blowing from the higher part of the bank, the
weight of the ship thus pressed by the wind, and working towards the
lower part of the shelving of the bank, the sand crumbled away from the
ship, and thereby and with the wind she was set on-float again. Another
observed, that if the ship had struck higher on the bank or deeper, when
her sails had been spread, with the force of her way, they could not in
the least probability have been saved.
Another observed, that through the goodness of God the wind rose higher,
and came more to that side of the ship where the bank of sand was
highest, after the ship was struck, which was a great means of her coming
off; and that, as soon as she was floated, the wind was laid and came
about again to another quarter. Another observed, that it being at that
time ebbing water was a great means of their preservation; because the
ship being so far struck into the sand, and so great a ship, a flowing
water could not have raised her; but upon the coming in of the tide she
would questionless have been broke in pieces.
The mariners said, that if God had not loved the landmen more than the
seamen they should never have come off from this danger. Every one made
his observations. Whitelocke concluded them to this purpose:
[SN: Whitelocke orders a thanksgiving to God.]
"Gentlemen,
"I desire that we may all join together in applying these
observations and mercies to the praise of God, and to the good of
our own souls. Let me exhort you never to forget this deliverance
and this signal mercy. While the love of God is warm upon our
hearts, let us resolve to retain a thankful memory of it to our
lives' end, and, for the time to come, to employ those lives, which
God hath now given to us and renewed to us, to the honour and praise
of Him, who hath thus most wonderfully and most mercifully revived
us, and as it were new created us. Let us become new creatures;
forsake your former lusts in your ignorance, and follow that God
fully, who hath so eminently appeared for us, to save us out of our
distress; and as God hath given us new lives, so let us live in
newness of life and holiness of conversation."
Whitelocke caused his people to come into his cabin, where Mr. Ingelo
prayed with them, and returned praises to the Lord for this deliverance:
an occasion sufficient to elevate his spirit, and, meeting with his
affections and abilities, tended the more to the setting forth His glory,
whose name they had so much cause more than others to advance and honour.
Many of the seamen came in to prayers, and Whitelocke talked with divers
of them upon the mercy they had received, who seemed to be much moved
with the goodness of God to them; and Whitelocke sought to make them and
all the company sensible of God's gracious dealings, and to bring it home
to the hearts of them. He also held it a duty to leave to his own family
this large relation, and remembrance of the Lord's signal mercy to him
and his; whereby they might be induced the more to serve the God of
their fathers, to trust in Him who never fails those that seek Him, and
to love that God entirely who hath manifested so much love to them, and
that in their greatest extremities; and hereby to endeavour that a
grateful acknowledgment of the goodness and unspeakable love of God might
be transmitted to his children's children; that as God never forgets to
be gracious, so his servants may never forget to be thankful, but to
express the thankfulness of their hearts by the actions of their lives.
Whitelocke spent this night in discourses upon this happy subject, and
went not to bed at all, but expected the return of day; and, the more to
express cheerfulness to the seamen, he promised that as soon as light did
appear, if they would up to the shrouds and top, he that could first
descry land should have his reward, and a bottle of good sack advantage.
_June 29, 1654._
[SN: They make the coast of Norfolk.]
As soon as day appeared, the mariners claimed many rewards and bottles of
sack, sundry of them pretending to have first discovered land; and
Whitelocke endeavoured to give them all content in this day of rejoicing,
God having been pleased to turn their sorrow into joy, by preserving them
in their great danger, and presently after by showing them their
longed-for native country; making them, when they were in their highest
expectation of joy to arrive in their beloved country, then to disappoint
their hopes by casting them into the extremest danger--thus making them
sensible of the uncertainty of this world's condition, and checking
perhaps their too much earthly confidence, to let them see His power to
control it, and to change their immoderate expectation of joy into a
bitter doubt of present death. Yet again, when He had made them sensible
thereof, to make his equal power appear for their deliverance when vain
was the help of man, and to bring them to depend more on him, then was He
pleased to rescue them by his own hand out of the jaws of death, and to
restore them with a great addition to their former hopes of rejoicing, by
showing them their native coast,--the first thing made known to them
after their deliverance from perishing.
The day being clear, they found themselves upon the coast of Norfolk,
and, as they guessed, about eight leagues from Yarmouth, where they
supposed their guns might be heard the last night. The wind being good,
Whitelocke ordered to weigh anchor, and they sailed along the coast,
sometimes within half a league of it, until they passed Orfordness and
came to Oseley Bay, where they again anchored, the weather being so thick
with a great fog and much rain that they could not discern the marks and
buoys to avoid the sands, and to conduct them to the mouth of the river.
A short time after, the weather began to clear again, which invited them
to weigh anchor and put the ship under sail; but they made little way,
that they might not hinder their sounding, which Whitelocke directed, the
better to avoid the danger of the sands, whereof this coast is full.
Near the road of Harwich the 'Elizabeth' appeared under sail on-head of
the 'President,' who overtaking her, Captain Minnes came on board to
Whitelocke, who told him the condition they had been in the last night,
and expostulated with him to this purpose.
_Whitelocke._ Being in this distress, we fired divers guns, hoping that
you, Captain Minnes, could not but hear us and come in to our relief,
knowing this to be the order of the sea in such cases.
_Minnes._ My Lord, I had not the least imagination of your being in
distress; but I confess I heard your cannon, and believed them to be
fired by reason of the fog, which is the custom of the sea in such
weather, to advertise one another where they are.
_Wh._ Upon such an occasion as the fog, seamen use to give notice to one
another by two or three guns, but I caused many more to be fired.
_Minnes._ I heard but four or five in all, and I answered your guns by
firing some of mine.
_Wh._ We heard not one of your guns.
_Minnes._ That might be by reason we were to windward of you three
leagues.
_Wh._ Why then did you not answer the lights which I caused to be set up?
_Minnes._ My Lord, those in my ship can witness that I set up lights
again, and caused squibs and fireworks to be cast up into the air, that
you might thereby discern whereabouts we were.
_Wh._ It was strange that we could neither see yours nor you our lights.
_Minnes._ The greatness of the fog might occasion it.
_Wh._ The lights would appear through the fog as well as in the night.
_Minnes._ My Lord, I did all this.
_Wh._ It was contrary to my orders for you to keep so far off from me,
and to be on-stern of me three leagues; but this hath been your practice
since we first came out to sea together; and if you had been under the
command of some others, as you were under mine, they would have expected
more obedience than you have given to my orders, or have taken another
course with you, which I can do likewise.
_Minnes._ My Lord, I endeavoured to get the wind of you, that I might
thereby be able to keep in your company, which otherwise I could not have
done, you being so much fleeter than the 'Elizabeth;' but in the evenings
I constantly came up to your Excellence.
_Wh._ Why did you not so the last night?
_Minnes._ The fog rose about five o'clock, and was so thick that we could
not see two ships' length before us. In that fog I lost you, and, fearing
there might be danger in the night to fall upon the coast, I went off to
sea, supposing you had done so likewise, as, under favour, your captain
ought to have done; and for my obedience to your Excellency's commands,
it hath been and shall be as full and as willing as to any person living.
_Wh._ When you found by my guns that you were so far from me to the
windward, you might fear that I was fallen into that danger which you had
avoided by keeping yourself under the wind more at large at sea.
_Minnes._ If I had in the least imagined your Excellence to have been in
danger, we had been worse than Turks if we had not endeavoured to come in
to your succour; and though it was impossible, as we lay, for our ship to
come up to your Excellence, yet I should have adventured with my boats to
have sought you out. But that you were in any danger was never in our
thoughts; and three hours after your guns fired, sounding, I found by the
lead the red sand, which made me think both your Excellence and we might
be in the more danger, and I lay the further off from them, but knew not
where your Excellence was, nor how to come to you.
After much more discourse upon this subject, Captain Parkes pressing it
against Minnes, who answered well for himself, and showed that he was the
better seaman in this action and in most others, and in regard of the
cause of rejoicing which God had given them, and that they now were near
the end of their voyage, Whitelocke held it not so good to continue the
expostulation as to part friends with Captain Minnes and with all his
fellow-seamen, and so they proceeded together lovingly and friendly in
their voyage.
The wind not blowing at all, but being a high calm, they could advance no
further than the tide would carry them, the which failed them when they
came to a place called Shoe, about four leagues from the mouth of Thames.
Having, through the goodness of God, passed by and avoided many banks of
sands and dangerous places, the wind failing them and the tide quite
spent, they were forced about seven o'clock in the evening to come to an
anchor, Captain Minnes hard by the 'President,' where, to make some
pastime and diversion, he caused many squibs and fireworks to be cast up
into the air from the 'Elizabeth,' in which Minnes was very ingenious,
and gave recreation thereby to Whitelocke and to his company.
_June 30, 1654._
[SN: Reach the Nore and Gravesend.]
Friday, the last of this month, was the fifth and last day of
Whitelocke's voyage by sea from the mouth of the Elbe to the mouth of
the Thames. About twelve o'clock the last night the wind began to blow
very strong in the south-west, and by daybreak they had weighed anchor;
and though the wind was extreme high and a great tempest, yet such was
their desire of getting into the harbour, that, taking the benefit of the
tide and by often tacking about, they yet advanced three leagues in their
course; and when the tide failed, they were forced to cast anchor at the
buoy in the Nore, the same place where Whitelocke first anchored when he
came from England. The pilots and mariners had much ado to manage their
sails in this tempestuous weather; and it was a great favour of God that
they were not out at sea in these storms, but returned in safety to the
place where the kindness of God had before appeared to them.
In the afternoon the wind began to fall, and they weighed anchor, putting
themselves under sail and pursuing their course, till for want of day and
of tide they were fain to cast anchor a little above Gravesend, and it
being very late, Whitelocke thought it would be too troublesome to go on
shore; but to keep his people together, and that they might all be the
readier to take the morning tide, he lay this night also on ship-board,
but sent Earle and some others that night to shore, to learn the news,
and to provide boats against the morning for transportation of Whitelocke
and his company the next day to London.
Thus, after a long, most difficult, and most dangerous journey,
negotiation, and voyage from south to north in winter, and from north to
south in summer, after the wonderful preservations and deliverances which
the Lord had been pleased to vouchsafe to them, He was also pleased, in
His free and constant goodness to His servants, to bring them all in
safety and with comfort again to their native country and dearest
relations, and blessed with the success of their employment, and with the
wonderful appearances of God for them.
May it be the blessed portion of them all, never to forget the
loving-kindness of the Lord, but by these cords of love to be drawn
nearer to Him, and to run after Him all the days of their lives! To the
end that those of his family may see what cause they have to trust in God
and to praise his name for his goodness, Whitelocke hath thought fit,
hereby in writing, and as a monument of God's mercy, to transmit the
memory of these passages to his posterity.