Chapter XIII: The Algerine Pirates and the Third Dutch War (1)

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.