FOREWORD 
 
 S. R. CROCKE 
 
 iiiiii i.
 
 The Dutch in the Medway.
 
 November, 1897.
 
 The Dutch 
 
 IN THE 
 
 Medway. 
 
 By 
 
 Charles Macfarlane, 
 
 ' .' 1 
 
 Author of "The Camp of Refuge." etc. 
 
 With A Foreword 
 
 By S. R. CROCKETT. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JAMES CLARKE & CO., 
 
 13 & 14, Fleet Street, E.C.
 
 TR^70 
 
 my
 
 A Foreword. 
 
 Charles Macfaelane's "The Dutch in 
 the Med way," here reprinted, is not one 
 of the world's greatest or most charming 
 hooks, hut it may serve to introduce the 
 reader to another which, in the judgment 
 of all capable hook-tasters, deserves at 
 least the latter epithet. I am not ac- 
 quainted with any better handbook to the 
 character and writings of that worthy and 
 soberly gamesome Clerk to the Navy 
 Board in the reign of King Charles the 
 Second, Mr. Samuel Pepys of happy 
 memory, than the unimaginative, Quaker- 
 drab paragraphs of the literary galley- 
 slave who tugged so manfully at Mr. 
 Charles Knight's oar, and died as a poor 
 brother of the Charterhouse in 18.58. 
 
 Practically all tliat I know of Charles 
 Macfarlane as a man is gathered from the
 
 VI A FOEEV.'ORD. 
 
 brief notice of him in the admirable 
 " Dictionary of National Biography," 
 whose delightful quarterly volumes cost 
 me so many good working days in the 
 year, in so much as, being consulted, they 
 prove so much more fascinating than any 
 mere work of reference has a right to be. 
 
 Briefly Macf arlane, the author of " The 
 Dutch in the Med way," was a wandering 
 Scot, who, after travelling through half 
 the countries of Europe (not in the 
 desultory "ten days out -and- home " 
 fashion of modern times, but devoting 
 no less than eleven years to Italy and 
 sixteen months to Turkey), settled down 
 in London to a life of steady industry as 
 a man of letters and a writer of history 
 and historical fiction. 
 
 In Charles Knight, the poj)ulariser of 
 Penny Cyclopedia literature, Macfarlane 
 found a frugal and commercial-minded 
 Ma)cenas. As is the wont of one-ideaed 
 men. Knight was content to use what 
 suited his purpose wdthout much regard 
 to what ultimately became of his worn-
 
 A FOREWORD . Vll 
 
 out tools. Very likely Knight was in no 
 way to blame. Indeed, those oldsters who 
 know the rights and wrongs of the story 
 — and there are still many such alive 
 amongst us — say that his publisher and 
 editor was ever coui-teous and kindly to 
 Macfarlane tlu-oughout all their relations. 
 And though this faithful journeyman of 
 letters died as a poor brother of the 
 Charterhouse, he, like the Colonel in those 
 last Cistercian chapters of "The New- 
 comes " which teach us so clearly what 
 great literature is, possessed " a neat and 
 comfortable little room, a brisk fire crack- 
 ling on the hearth, a Httle tea-table neatly 
 laid out, and " (mayhap also like the 
 noble old Colonel) " a Bible and a pair of 
 spectacles by the side of it.'" 
 
 We take down the book wherein we 
 read of these things. It stands upon a 
 liandy shelf with Pepys (whom our 
 Ulysse.s-auth(jr ](n'ed so well), with Scott 
 and Defoe on either side. And in a 
 moment we can see, as we turn the well- 
 known pages, a true picture of the last
 
 VIU A FOREWORD. 
 
 days of Charles Macfarlane — "A plenty 
 of candles lights up the chapel, and this 
 scene of age and youth, of early memories 
 and pompous death. How solemn the 
 well-remembered prayers are, here uttered 
 again in the place where in childhood we 
 used to hear them ! How beautiful and 
 decorous the rite ; how noble the ancient 
 words of supplication which the priest 
 utters, and to which generations of fresh 
 children and troops of byegone seniors 
 have cried ' Amen ! ' under these arches. 
 The service is a special one, one of the 
 Psalms selected being the thirty-seventh, 
 and we hear — 
 
 23. The steps of a good man are ordered by the 
 Lord, and He delighteth in his way. 
 
 24. Though he fall he shall not be utterly cast 
 down, for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand. 
 
 25. I have been yoimg, and now am old, yet 
 have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his 
 seed begging their bread. 
 
 As we came to this verse I chanced to look 
 up from my book towards the swarm of 
 black-coated pensioners, and amongst 
 them, amongst them — sate Thomas New-
 
 A FOEEAVORD. IX 
 
 come." Thus writes Thackeray — as it 
 might be of Charles Macfarlane. 
 
 I desire not so much to moralise over 
 Macfarlane as to reprint one of the noble 
 passages of literature, perhaps a little in 
 disproof and contempt of the modern 
 theory that in order to be a man you must 
 lock away yom- heart with lever locks, and 
 safeguard it behind triple bars. Thackeray 
 knew that none can be great unless at 
 fitting times he is willing to sweep aside 
 the curtains of the heart, and reveal the 
 life of a man beating and insui'gent within 
 him. 
 
 The book that now lies before us is one 
 of a number of historical novels which 
 Macfarlane wrote, some of which have 
 continued to be reprinted down to the pre- 
 sent day. One of the best, "The Camp 
 of Eefuge," has just been issued for the 
 fourth time, with an admirable introduc- 
 tion by Mr. Gomme. " The Dutch in the 
 Medway " has, however, so far as I can 
 ascertain, never been reprinted since it 
 was first published in IHl.") as one of the
 
 A FOREWORD. 
 
 neat drab-coloured volumes of the Knight's 
 Weekly Library at the price of a silver 
 shilling'. 
 
 Macfarlane's most widely circulated 
 work is the " Civil and Military History of 
 England," included in the " Pictorial 
 History," edited for Knight by George 
 Lillie Craik. This admirable work adds 
 to my debt to the author of " The Dutch 
 in the Medway." And when quite recently 
 I took a cast back into my youth by 
 reading it over again during a period of 
 enforced idleness, I seemed almost to 
 recall the setting of the well-considered 
 sentences on the pages, as well as those 
 quaint illustrations which adorn them — 
 sometimes excellent and spirited, oftener 
 perhaps " cuts rightly called wooden." 
 
 Our present little work cannot be 
 denominated brilliant. But it is enter- 
 taining, adequate, not overladen with lore 
 and exact authorities (a modern evil habit 
 of romancers) . It introduces us pleasantly 
 and sedately to a crowded and interesting 
 stage, and though Macfarlane does not
 
 A FOREWORD. XI 
 
 show US fights of Titans photographed by 
 lightning flashes, nor yet very incisive 
 portrait etchings of single figures, yet, 
 on the whole, the masquerading, out-at- 
 elbows times of Charles the Debonnaire 
 stand out in sufficient fulness and relief. 
 
 The narrative flows on gravely, quietly, 
 like a Fenland river, with frequent "dams" 
 — not on the pai-t of the impatient reader, 
 but rather when the narrative is delayed 
 and swamped by excursus and homily. 
 
 On the whole, in these hurried impres- 
 sionist days, the air of deliberate friendly 
 commonplace with which Macfarlane in- 
 troduces and develops his characters is not 
 unwelcome. 
 
 " Look," he seems to say, " here is Tom 
 of the Woods ! Do not be afraid of him. 
 He seems tierce and wild, but I can, 
 from personal acquaintance, warrant him 
 entirely harmless. This sailor, too, with 
 his threats and Fifth Monairchydom, he 
 will perform before you. I will stir him 
 up wliile you wait in safety outside the 
 bars. The Dutch will fire a fen de joie *'
 
 Xll A FOKEWORD. 
 
 (in which the reader will join with thank- 
 fulness), "and sail away from the Nore to 
 the shelter of their native dykes. So all at 
 last will be well ! " The very look of Mac- 
 farlane's page reassures us. These league- 
 long paragraphs, which stretch across any 
 number of leaves, tell us that we shall 
 neither be bored by philosojphical dia- 
 logue, nor dazzled by useless conversa- 
 tional brilliance. 
 
 But wholesome, equal-minded, genial is 
 ever the author's mood. He knows a 
 great deal about his period, and he is 
 resolved that so will his reader ere he 
 releases his button-hole. Charles Mac- 
 f arlane is just the author, " The Dutch in 
 the Medway" just the book for a wet 
 Sunday afternoon, when the winds bleat 
 and whistle without, and the rain of 
 winter volleys blattering upon the bliirred 
 "vvindow-panes. 
 
 S. E. CEOCKETT.
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I.- 
 
 -The Xavy-Office 
 
 1 
 
 II.- 
 
 —The Clerk of the Navy at Honi 
 
 e ... 21 
 
 in.- 
 
 —A Voyage to Erith 
 
 ... 54 
 
 IV.- 
 
 -The Old Cavalier 
 
 ... 78 
 
 V.- 
 
 -Tom of the Woods 
 
 ... 114 
 
 VI.- 
 
 -A Fight and a FUght 
 
 ... 138 
 
 VII.- 
 
 — Wapping 
 
 ... 169 
 
 rilL- 
 
 -ThoMedway ... 
 
 ... 193 
 
 IX.- 
 
 -The Battery Under Hoo ... 
 
 ... 218 
 
 X.- 
 
 — Mistres.s Marion in London . . . 
 
 ... 247 
 
 XI.- 
 
 —The Prophet come to Towii... 
 
 ... 277 
 
 XII.- 
 
 — Domestic Peace after War 
 
 and 
 
 
 Shame 
 
 ... 298
 
 THE DUTCH 
 IN THE 
 MEDWAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Navy-office. 
 
 Expecting the reader to follow us, we 
 take a walk tlu'ough the City of London, 
 and stop at a large ugly pile of building 
 which stands not far from Tower Hill and 
 the water-side. This building is the old 
 Navy-office of the time of Charles II. It 
 occupies the site of Lumley House, 
 formerly a monastery belonging to the 
 order of friars called the Brothers of the 
 Holy Cross, whose Latin designation — 
 Fratres Saxct.k Crucis — has been awk- 
 wardly Anglicised mto Crutched Friars. 
 It is a place which has witnessed many 
 changes. At the Reformation Henry YIII. 
 made a grant of the house to tliat delight 
 of the muses and of mankind, Sir Thomas 
 Wyatt, the fiiend of the accomplished 
 Earl of Surrey, and here Wyatt once 
 lived, and moditatcid, and wi'ote. At a 
 later period the great hall of the friars 
 
 1
 
 2 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 had been converted into a glasshouse for 
 the blowing of drinking-glasses. The 
 greater part of the buildings had been 
 consumed by fire, through the carelessness 
 of the glass-blowers, whose trade had so 
 intimate a connection with drink : yet 
 the present building — or the Navy-office 
 — does rather more than occupy the site 
 of the monastic edifice, for it includes 
 whole portions of the dwelling of the 
 friars, and notably parts of the cloisters, 
 and the whole of the ancient gate of the 
 monastery, which now, even as in the 
 olden time, has a wicket in it, and a 
 grated aperture with a sliding-board 
 behind it. 
 
 But in front of this gate we find not 
 a group of monks of the order "Sanctse 
 Crucis," but a crowd of rough English 
 sailors with pieces of paper and tickets in 
 their hands, and with an expression of 
 great dissatisfaction and anger upon their 
 countenances. One of these men advances 
 right up to the gate, and, after ringing a 
 great bell by the side of it, he beats 
 impatiently with his horny fist upon the 
 wicket. A porter, not in a cowl, but 
 wearing a blue cap, moves the sliding- 
 board, peeps through the small iron grat- 
 ing, and instead of opening the wicket, 
 says, in no very gentle tone, " What ! 
 here again ! back so soon ! What would 
 ye now ? "
 
 THE NAVY-OFFICE. 
 
 " Master Strong," says the sailor, " we 
 would change these tickets for money — 
 we cannot get money, or the money's 
 worth for them — we lack bread, and 
 would have it, as we have earned it by 
 hard service in the King's ships ; our men's 
 wives and childi-en be starving ! But, 
 first of all, we would have speech with 
 their honours." 
 
 "Will Gaff," says the porter, "I may 
 not open the door ; I cannot admit thee 
 and thy noisy crew. Much trouble befel 
 rfle the last time I did so. There is no 
 Board sitting to-day : their honoirrs are 
 all away to "VVliiteliall to see the King's 
 Majesty and his Highness the Duke play 
 a match at bowls." 
 
 " Nay," says Will Gaff, " their honours 
 told us last week that there would Le a 
 Board to-day, and that measures woidd be 
 taken to give us money instead of these 
 tickets, which the very Jews will no longer 
 take, even at the rate of a crown for the 
 pound." 
 
 "True," says the janitor, "there was to 
 have been a Board this afternoon ; but 
 their honours heard of this great bowling- 
 match, and could not but go to it." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! sport before duty — i:)leasure 
 before business ! that scfiiKitli 7iow the 
 rule with all men in ollico ! and tluis it 
 befalloth. Master Strong, that the affairs 
 of the coimtry go amiss, and we poor
 
 4 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 mariners, who fight for the country, be 
 left to starve." 
 
 " Art turning fanatic and leveller ? 
 Hast been bitten by some preaching Fifth 
 Monarchy man ? Have a care. Will Gaff, 
 or perchance thou mayest get an over- 
 hauling for high treason, and die the 
 death of Vernier ! " 
 
 " Avast there. Master Strong, avast ! 
 No fanatic am I, or leveller — though I am 
 levelled enow myself, by poverty and want 
 — I never bear up for a conventicle. No 
 preachings have I heard since I was afloat 
 in the Royal Charles, where the chaplain 
 told us to fear God and honour the King. 
 God bless his Majesty, say I, and God 
 bless the Duke, with all my heart — 
 
 God bless King Cliaiies, the Duke of York, 
 The Royal Family. 
 
 And I do say it with all my heart ! and I 
 would die for the King's Majesty and our 
 Lord High Admiral, if they would but put 
 away their evil and corrupt counsellors, 
 and pay us our dues, and put our fleets in 
 condition to drive these Dutch from our 
 seas." 
 
 While Will Gaff was saying these words 
 a tall, thin, sour-visaged sailor in the crowd 
 said to some who were nearest to him, 
 '' Will is too mealy-mouthed ; what does 
 he mean with his kings and dukes ? Will 
 his God-blessings turn these tickets into
 
 THE NAVT-OFFICE. 
 
 dollars ? The King has fallen a thousand 
 leagues to leeward of the path of righteous- 
 ness; he thinks of nothing but his misses; 
 and the Duke, though the head of the 
 Navy and Lord High Admiral, is little 
 better than the King, and is a rank Papist 
 to boot." Some of the men who heard 
 this sour speech assented to it with nods 
 and shakes of the head and low groans ; 
 but others whistled between their teeth, 
 and looked as if they thought that Joel 
 Wyke was going a little too far in the 
 wind's eye. 
 
 Master Strong, the porter, being molli- 
 fied by Will Gaff's last speech, said, in 
 reply to it, that albeit their honom-s were 
 all away, Mr. Clerk Pepys was within, 
 working hard, as was his wont, in his 
 office ; and that it might be that lie would 
 condescend to talk with Will about the 
 money-tickets, if Will would only come 
 in alone. The frank-hearted seaman 
 begged Strong to go and see how the 
 Clerk stood affected. The porter closed 
 the little grating and went into the interior 
 of the building. Wliilo he was absent 
 some of the sailors in the crowd said that 
 they ought all to go in, and explain their 
 great want, as they had done before ; that 
 the Clerk of the Navy ought to have an 
 open ear for every honest man in the 
 service. Others at the same time said 
 that there ought to be at least a deputa-
 
 b THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 tion, as one man for every ship's crew ; 
 and the latter proposition was strongly 
 ui'ged by Joel Wyke, who was very proud 
 of his speech-making abilities, and who, 
 from his frequent exercise of them, had 
 gotten the name of ^' Speaker Joel," 
 together with the reputation of being 
 quite a sea-lawyer. While Joel was 
 haranguing in a loud shrill voice, and 
 with a nasal twang which savoured 
 strongly of the conventicle. Master Strong, 
 the doorkeeper, retui-ned to the gate, and 
 told Will Gaff, through the grating, that 
 the Clerk would see him. But Joel Wyke 
 came to the wicket and told Master Strong 
 that the sailors of the fleet did not think 
 it fit to trust their case to the pleading of 
 one young man, and had come to the 
 resolution that a deputation must see Mr. 
 Pepys and confer with him. The door- 
 keeper, who knew his man, said that this 
 could not be, and that Joel was a pert 
 knave for proposing it — yea, a pert knave 
 and a fanatic. The sea-lawyer waxed 
 very wroth, his face becoming as red as 
 the deep yellow of his complexion would 
 allow ; he threatened assault and battery 
 — spoke of pulling the porter's nose 
 through the iron grating, of bursting open 
 the wicket, of breaking down the big gate 
 with sledge-hammers and axes ; but W^ill 
 allayed the storm by jsroposing that, in lieu 
 of a deputation of many seamen, Joel Wyke
 
 THE JfATY-OFFICE. 
 
 should be joined in commission witli him, 
 and that they two should go in and have 
 speech with Mr. Pepys. The mob, who 
 were evidently divided into two parties, 
 the one looking to Gaff as their chief, and 
 the other regarding Wyke in that light, 
 soon agreed that they would be satisfied 
 with this arrangement. Strong went 
 again into the innermost part of the 
 edifice, where Pepys was not writing but 
 trembling, for the official's nerves were 
 not heroically strung ; and as none knew 
 better than he the wrongs which had been 
 done by a thoughtless, extravagant, and 
 profligate Government to the seamen of 
 the Koyal Navy, and the deep distress in 
 which the sailors and their families had 
 been lying for many, many months, he 
 appreliended some act of violence from 
 their desperation. It was a year ago or 
 thereupon since Pepys was terrified out of 
 his wits, and almost deprived of his supper, 
 by an insurrection of sailors' wives, who, 
 to the number of three hundred and more, 
 screamed for money to buy bread. Mrs. 
 Pepys had a delicate venison pasty for 
 supper that night, but was afraid to send 
 it to the baker's to be baked, apprehend- 
 ing that the famishing women would offer 
 violence to it. The pasty, however, was 
 sent and brf»ught back in safety — for 
 Pepys was a lucky man. He, however, 
 thought it better now to grant a parley
 
 8 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 than provoke a storm; and lie rather 
 readily consented to receive the two 
 deputies instead of one, but beseeched the 
 porter, who was strong by nature as well 
 as by name, to hold hard by the wictet 
 when it was opened, and not admit more 
 than those two. And to support the 
 janitor, Pepys sent his under-clerk, Mr. 
 Hater, who would much rather have seen 
 his princij)al go himself. 
 
 Not relying entirely upon his own great 
 bodily strength, and counting for the little 
 that it was worth the assistance of the 
 under-clerk. Strong, when he returned to 
 the grating, made an appeal to the honour 
 of the sailors, and concluded a paction 
 with them, by which they agreed to keep 
 on the other side of the street when the 
 wicket should be opened to admit their 
 two delegates. Upon these conditions, 
 which were faithfully observed by the 
 seamen, the wicket was imbarred, and 
 Will Graff and Joel Wyke were admitted. 
 They stayed within for a very long time, 
 for Speaker Joel must needs make one of 
 his longest speeches to the smart clerk, 
 whose confusion and fright he much 
 enjoyed. The mob outside became impa- 
 tient, and began shouting and calling for 
 Will and Joel with so loud a chorus that 
 it could be heard in every part of the 
 edifice. At last, as it was growing 
 towards dusk, the two delegates came
 
 THE XAVT-OFFICE. 
 
 forth into the street. Will Gaff had a 
 smile upon his face, betokening that he, 
 upon the whole, was satisfied with the 
 interview ; but Joel Wyke looked as sour 
 as he did before he went in. The sailors 
 gathered roiuid them, eager to know what 
 Mr. Pepys had said, and whether he gave 
 them any immediate hope of getting their 
 money and fresh employment aboard. 
 Will declared that Mr. Pejjys was a 
 ver}-- fine gentleman and the sailors' 
 friend; that he was as sorry as they 
 were themselves at having no money to 
 give them, and no control over the Navy 
 chest ; that he had promised to speak not 
 only with their honours of the Board, but 
 also with the Duke and the Lord High 
 Admiral, and otherwise do all that he 
 possibly could do in order to get the sea- 
 men's tickets changed into silver coin ; and 
 hoped that before the world was a week 
 older all their just demands would be 
 satisfied, and profitable employment found 
 for them on board the King's sliips in the 
 Medway. " His honour," subjoined Gaif, 
 " saith tliat he worketli hard for the Navy, 
 and hath but little pay or emolument 
 himself ; that lie is but a poor man who 
 began the world with nothing, and is still 
 struggling with diiHculties, finding it very 
 hard to make tlic two ends meet. Never- 
 theless he hath put his hand into his 
 pocket, like a gentleman as he is, and
 
 10 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 hath, g'iven me a golden jacobus, wherewith 
 I propose that we adjourn to the Anchor 
 Tavern and drink his honour's health, 
 though it be but in a drop of di'ink a 
 man." 
 
 Very different was the harangue of 
 Speaker Joel. That sea-lawyer declared 
 that no good had been done ; that no faith 
 was to be put in the promises of a fawning, 
 wheedling, coat-tiu-ning rogue like Pepys, 
 who cared not how many honest and 
 righteous sailors starved, provided he 
 could enrich himself by partaking in 
 the j)lunder, and furnish himself amply 
 with the means of gratifying his passion 
 for fine clothes, fine company, ungodly 
 plays, masques, and dances, and other 
 imholy sports, which had been put down 
 and prohibited in the days when there 
 was a just judge in Israel, or when this 
 land was governed according to the Gos- 
 pel, in wisdom and righteousness. "We," 
 subjoined Joel, "we misused mariners, 
 who have shed our blood in battle, have 
 jackets that are tattered and torn, and 
 few of us have any shirts under our 
 jackets, or any shoes to our feet; but 
 this servant of the Navy, who is appointed 
 and j^aid by the country only to take care 
 of our interests, is clad like Dives in fine 
 linen and costly raiment ; he walks about 
 the world in velvets and satins and silks, 
 with all the new-fangled fopperies brought
 
 THE NAVY-OFFICE. 11 
 
 over from France ; the very wig on his head 
 hath cost more money than the Wapping 
 Jews would give us for all our clothes 
 put together. The price is monstrous ! 
 the wig itself is monstrous ! It comes 
 from tiiat land of j)apistry and idolatry 
 where men be satisfied with nothing that 
 nature sends them; where men cut off 
 their own hair in order to wear the hair 
 of other people. Verily this peruke, or 
 periwig, smells as strongly of Popery as 
 the devil does of brimstone. Nothing 
 can go well with England or with us so 
 long as the chief clerk to the Navy wears 
 such a wig. Verily it is curled, and 
 twisted, and powdered, and bulged out, so 
 as to look like a lion's mane. But we 
 have never beaten the Dutch since these 
 French wigs came among us ! We poor 
 sailors may be as hungry as we are naked, 
 but Mr. Secretary fares sumptuously every 
 day, feasting at liome with that fine city 
 madam his wife, or feasting in ordinaries 
 or cookshops, with dissolute cavalieros, and 
 robbers of tlie nation like himself. And 
 yet for all this outlay he is very rich. 
 How greatly, therefore, must he rob the 
 Navy and us poor mariners ! Without 
 fearing the fate of Ananias, he swore 
 unto me that he is poor — very poor ; that 
 lie hatli no irioney to give; and tliat at 
 this moment the coffers of tlie Admiralty 
 be entirely enij^ty. He hath given unto
 
 12 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Will Gaff (for my part I scorned the gift) 
 one jacobus to be divided among- ye all 
 that be here. This will not make a 
 farthing- apiece if the coin is a good one ; 
 and I have my suspicions that it may be 
 clipjjed. We must deal otherwise with 
 this Mr. Pepys, and with those who are 
 above him, than we have hitherto done, 
 or we shall get not a rap of our pay, but 
 be left starving as we are with these 
 tickets, which Beelzebub invented, in our 
 hands or pockets. But what do I say, 
 pockets? — there is no having pockets 
 without having clothes, and we shall soon 
 have neither jacket, vest, nor breeches. 
 Ah, my shipmates ! Ah, my brethren all ! 
 it was not thus with us in the bygone 
 days, when we were regularly paid, not 
 in paper, but in cash ; when we had plenty 
 of clothes, and plenty of pockets, and 
 pockets well lined with piastres, reals, and 
 doubloons, taken from the idolatrous 
 Spaniards, and the other worshippers 
 of the scarlet whore of Rome ! But 
 there was holiness then in the land 
 and in this Coiu-t of England; no Sabbath- 
 breaking was allowed either at sea or 
 ashore, and therefore were our arms 
 always blessed, and therefore did we 
 never storm a place on the Spanish 
 Main without taking it, with great 
 booty to ourselves, and a great slaughter 
 of the Papishes. I sailed with Captain
 
 THE XAVY-OFFICE. 13 
 
 Sawldns in the Gulf of Panama, when he 
 blew out a man's brains on the quai-ter- 
 deck for only touching a dice-box on the 
 Lord's Day." 
 
 " Stop, Joel Wyke ! " cried one of Will 
 Gaff's party. " Hold hard there ! That 
 Sawkins thou namest of was a blue light, 
 a canting, psabn-singing son of — what I 
 won't mention, and nothing else but a 
 flibusteer and robber ! "VVe have had 
 enough, Joel, of thy hard biuidle of 
 oakum, so let Will Gaff spin us a yarn ! " 
 
 But the sea-speaker would not be 
 stopped, and being enraged at the in- 
 terruption and at the preference given by 
 many to the oratory of Gaff, he went on 
 more furiously than ever. While he was 
 ranting and foaming at the mouth (rant- 
 ing and foaming the more because many 
 of Gaff's friends whewed and whistled at 
 him) the shades of evening closed in, and 
 the uproarious London apprentices broke 
 loose from their shops, warehouses, and 
 workshops ; and many of them came 
 trooping down to Crutched Friars, in the 
 hope of enjopng a good sailor riot, and 
 of joining in it out of sheer love of 
 mischief. Tliese madcap apprentices, 
 indeed, sought the scene of disturbance 
 as anxiously as the older and sedater 
 citizens avoided it. They all knew the 
 cause of complaint, for the Government 
 had been paying the seamen of the Royal
 
 14 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Navy with tickets instead of cash ever 
 since the first year of the Restoration of 
 Charles II., and there had been many riots 
 before this present one. As the lads 
 arrived they shouted, " Well done, sailors ! 
 get change for your tickets ! Make the 
 rogues in the big house swallow them and 
 give you gold for them ! On, on, shipmen ! 
 the London 'prentices be coming." Al- 
 though he loved not their frolicksome 
 humour, and had often moaned in the 
 spirit over the lightness of conversation 
 and behaviour of these young denizens of 
 the city, who, like other and higher parts 
 of the nation, seemed determined to make 
 up for lost time, and to take a full swing 
 of frohc and pleasiu-e, which had been so 
 long interdicted by the Presbyterians and 
 Pm-itans, Joel Wyke, nevertheless, was not 
 sorry to see their arrival, and, like all 
 mob-orators and club-men, he became the 
 bolder as the number of his auditors in- 
 creased. 
 
 " I say," said the sea - lawyer, '' that 
 the clerk in the Navy, in there, is a god- 
 less rogue that ought to be hanged ! I say 
 that they are all rogues together, selling 
 and trafficking in places, filling the Navy- 
 office, the victualling-office, the dockyards, 
 and all other offices comiected with the 
 Service, with cheats and thieves, who 
 defraud and j)lmider, or with fools, who 
 know not how to perform their duty.
 
 THE NAVT-OFFICE. 15 
 
 They have all been feathering their nests, 
 while the Navy has been getting deeper 
 and deeper into debt. They have all been 
 wallowing in luxury and sin, while we have 
 been starving. They and their fellows 
 have sold the country to France, and are 
 going to bring in Popery as well as 
 perukes from France. Our stomachs are 
 empty, and our rehgion is in danger. The 
 Lord hath already visited the land and 
 this great city with fearful judgments; 
 but there are those who will not be warned 
 even by fire and plague ; their wickedness 
 hath become daily more wicked ; they have 
 persecuted God's few faithful people for 
 raising their voices against the sins of the 
 time, for interpreting God's word and the 
 prophecies of the saints, and for calling 
 upon the land to repent in sackcloth and 
 ashes ; and therefore judgments still more 
 terrible than those we have lately wit- 
 nessed are close at hand. Tom of the 
 Woods has said it; and ye all know by 
 experience how true a prophet is Tom. 
 After these judgments we shall have the 
 reign of the saints upon oartl) ; but, ship- 
 mates, how are we to live mitil that happy 
 time if the Navy-office pay us not ? Ship- 
 mates, what shall we do — what is to be 
 done?" 
 
 *' 1 wish," said one of the many saucy 
 apprentices, "I wish you would leave off 
 preaching and be a-doing of something.
 
 16 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 We came here for fun, and not to hear a 
 conventicle discourse about judgments and 
 your Fifth Monarchy ! Let me tell you 
 what to do by way of making- a profitable 
 or a merry be<2:inning — break open that 
 black gate, catch Clerk Pepys, and make 
 him empty the strong boxes, and give you 
 money for the tickets ; and if he will not 
 or cannot do it, why, carry him across the 
 hill, and throw him into the Tower ditch, 
 periwig and all. A good ducking will do 
 the clerk no harm — his business is with 
 the water ; and I say duch, but not drown 
 him!" 
 
 Poor Pepys heard this ribald speech of 
 the London 'prentice with his own ears, 
 for, being anxious to get home to his own 
 house, he had come to the vncket to peep 
 through a corner of the grating and see 
 whether the mob were dispersing or not, 
 and at this moment he and his man Hater 
 had their ears close to the grating. The 
 secretary's feelings were not to be envied ; 
 it was a cold, raw, blowing evening of 
 March, such as no man would choose for a 
 bathe in Thames water; the seamen had 
 not collected for a mere frolic like the 
 apprentices, and some of the more desper- 
 ate or fanatic sailors might think dro"wn- 
 ing more applicable to his case than duck- 
 ing; he might be drowned without their 
 intending it, as many a good man had 
 been killed in wild, mischievous sport;
 
 THE NAVY-OFFICE. 17 
 
 and if his life sliould be saved, his fine 
 clothes would be spoiled and lost for ever ; 
 and to Mr. Pepys his fine clothes were as 
 a part of himself, as members and portions 
 of liis own living, sentient body, nay, as 
 part and parcel of his own soul. And to 
 make the stroke the keener, Pepys had on 
 him this day the most costly and best of 
 his attire ; for he, too, had intended to go 
 westward to the Mall to see the Royal 
 sport, and, what would have pleased him 
 more, all the fine-dressed lords and ladies, 
 and bewitching king's mistresses, and he 
 had only been prevented from going by 
 the little accident that every soul in or 
 connected with the Navy-office, except 
 Hater his clerk and Strong the janitor, 
 had taken their departure thitherward 
 before him, leaving the offices all empty 
 and some important work to be done. He 
 had equipped himself in his largest and 
 newest periwig, his best peach-blossomed 
 velvet coat, and his violet-coloured camlet 
 cloak with silver buttons ; and Mrs. Pepys 
 had said that morning at his going out 
 that she had never seen liim look grander 
 or more like himself. To have all these 
 gallantries spoiled in their first bloom and 
 in all their freshness, and before he had 
 received iho compliments of his friends 
 upon the one half of them — (the Duke of 
 York had paid a studied eulogy to his wig, 
 but that was some years ago, when he ap- 
 
 2
 
 18 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAT. 
 
 peared for the first time at court in his 
 periwig, and that periwig was nothing in 
 dimension and make to this periwig) — to 
 have wig, coat, cloak, and all the rest of 
 his exquisite toilette hurled into the mud 
 and water of the Tower ditch was too 
 distracting to think of. This cruel fate 
 might, however, have befallen both the 
 clothes and their wearer, but for the good, 
 kind heart of Will Gaff and the modera- 
 tion of Will's immediate followers. 
 Speaker Joel would fain have broken open 
 the gate, as he had no faith in the clerk's 
 woi'd, and firmly believed some strong 
 boxes he had seen in his office must con- 
 tain money. Joel was also impelled by a 
 strong political and religious hatred against 
 all men now in office, and, indeed, against 
 every man that preferred the present 
 kingly government to the government of 
 the saints. But Will Graff, who had no 
 such inveterate feeling, and who looked 
 to no other millennium than that of get- 
 ting paid for the past, and service and pay 
 for the future, and who both believed that 
 Pepys had told the truth, and that nothing 
 but disgrace could be got by breaking open 
 the gate and tne strong boxes and laying 
 hands of violence upon the clerk, made a 
 short, sound, and sailor-like speech, which 
 was much applauded by his own party and 
 by the 'prentice boys, and even by some 
 of the sour sort who followed Joel Wyke.
 
 THE XAVY-OFFICE. 19 
 
 He made a great deal of the golden 
 jacobus which Pepys had given him out of 
 his own private pocket ; and he ended his 
 speech by proposing that they should give 
 three cheers for the open-handed clerk. 
 Will's own frien.'ls gave tong-ue inmie- 
 diately, and the city apprentices joined 
 them, not one of them shouting more 
 heartily than the frolicsome youth who 
 had proposed ducking Pepys in the Tower 
 ditch. Except a few, who could not resist 
 the force of example, and who remained to 
 finish the three cheers for the clerk, Joel 
 Wyke's people took their departm-e, some 
 going to their own hungry lodgings, but 
 more repairing to a secret conventicle or 
 meeting-house in the vicinity of Ratcliffe 
 Highway, where, notwithstanding all the 
 severity of the Government, and the 
 terrible proclamations which had fre- 
 quently been acted upon, a crowd of 
 fanatics assembled night after night to 
 listen to preachers more hot-brained than 
 themselves ; to pray for another revolution 
 and civil war, and the establishment of 
 the Fifth-Monarchy men ; and to concert 
 wild and ferocious, but impracticable 
 schemes of insurrection. Will Gaif and 
 his party, resolving to wait with as much 
 patience as they could for another week, 
 wf'iit straight to the Anchor lavfrn in 
 Wappiiig, to spend the jacobus and j)er- 
 haps a little more, to drink the clerk's
 
 20 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 health, and give a toast for the fulfilment 
 of his promise at the week's end. A good 
 many of the apprentices went with them, 
 and clubbed their pence with them, and 
 got quit of their suj)erfluous vivacity by 
 fighting with the night watch on Tower 
 Hill, and breaking some Jews' windows in 
 Rosemary Lane. The rest of the hopes of 
 the city strolled away to Moorfields to see 
 a match of bear-baiting by torch-light. 
 
 About an hour after they had all dis- 
 persed from Crutched Friars, and a full 
 half -hour after Mi-. Pepys had got safely 
 from the Navy Ofiice to his own house and 
 loving sj)Ouse, a company of King's Guards 
 arrived from the Tower to suppress the 
 riot, and, finding nothing to do, they 
 marched quietly back again. Nearly 
 everything in the kingdom was in a con- 
 dition of neghgence and unreadiness. At 
 the court end of town everything seemed 
 to be a jest, and was treated as such ; at the 
 east end, and more particularly among the 
 sailors, there was poverty, discontent, dis- 
 affection, fanaticism, and treason. No 
 marvel was it, therefore, that the flag of 
 England was on the eve of sustaining a 
 never-to-be-forgotten disgrace.
 
 CHAPTEE n. 
 
 The Clerk of the Navy at Home. 
 
 It is but a short step from the Navy Office 
 in Crutched Friars to Seething Lane, in 
 the parish of St. Olave, Hart Street, where 
 there is a good substantial dwelling-house. 
 The door is carefully closed and locked, 
 and the lower windows, opening upon the 
 street, are well secured by iron bars. It 
 is but a turbulent neighbourhood, being 
 so near to Wapping and Ratcliffe High- 
 way, and these are extra-turbulent times, 
 when it behoves every cautious man to 
 look well to his own house. If he does 
 not, he must expect but little protection 
 from the laws and the authorities that be. 
 Without forcing lock or breaking bar, and 
 without calling upon the aid of sj^rite or 
 witch, we can enter this well-guarded 
 house and descry its occupants and 
 furniture. Walk in with us, gentle 
 reader. 
 
 We cross an entrance-hall, paved with 
 flagstones, and ascend a good, broad, open 
 staircase, with balustrades of oak, fjuaintly 
 carved and nicely polished. On the first 
 landing-place a door fac(!S us. The door 
 is closed and locked like the street-door,
 
 22 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 and althoiio-h it is now tlie warm and 
 genial month of June, there is a heavy 
 curtain, or hanging, made of green serge 
 and wadded, closely drawn on the inner 
 side of the door — for servants (and there 
 are four or five in the offices below) have a 
 wicked habit of peeping through keyholes, 
 and of listening to what their betters are 
 about ; and those within the room have 
 been doing some things which they would 
 not have seen, and are now saying many 
 things which they would not have heard 
 by any one. But to our natural magic the 
 strong oaken door flies open, the heavy- 
 wadded hanging lifts itself to let us pass, 
 and we stand in the middle of the room, 
 unheard and unseen. On great occasions 
 it is the dining-room of the house, and a 
 very comfortable room it is. The walls 
 are covered with green serge, with gilt 
 leather for borders ; the ceiling, though 
 not very lofty, is neatly painted, and is 
 crossed by two massy beams of oak 
 curiously carved ; the floor is covered 
 partly with a neat mat, and partly with a 
 soft and richly coloured Turkey carpet. 
 We have had our wars and troubles, and 
 some retrograde steps in taste and letters 
 since the days of Queen Elizabeth, but 
 here is evidence that we are advancing in 
 domestic comfort and the commoner arts. 
 The matting is a great improvement upon 
 loose rushes ; the carpet is a step indeed !
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 23 
 
 Yet are there still some things in this fur- 
 nishing which appear in our eyes rather 
 clumsy and vmcouth. These great heavy 
 chests, or trunks, at the sides of the room, 
 bound with strong iron bindings, and 
 secured (when they are shut, for they are 
 open now) with clumsy locks and great 
 padlocks, are not such things as we would 
 keep our plate, table-linen, and fine clothes 
 in ; nor is this room the place where we 
 would maofazine those stores and treasures. 
 That looking-glass over the mantelpiece, 
 into which a busy lady is now and then 
 peeping, is but small and dingy, and seems 
 to be warped ; the grate beneath for hold- 
 ing the sea-coal fire when the weather 
 demands it is very wide, rough, and 
 slovenly ; these heavy chairs demand the 
 strength of a porter to move them ; the 
 huge tables seem fixtures, altogether 
 immovable, and though they are polished 
 there is a good deal of dust upon them. 
 But the capital finish given by neatness 
 and tlie perfection of cleunlinoss is almost 
 everywhere wanting. What has that 
 flannel wrapper to do upon that settee by 
 the window? Wliy are these loose habili- 
 ments of niiin and woman scattered about? 
 At one (Mid of Uw. room there is a door 
 opening into an inner apartment — the 
 door is wide open, allowing the eye to rest 
 upon fiunflry objects which oiiglit not to be 
 seen. There is also mucli litter, or a
 
 24 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 huddling together of accessories, in the 
 hirger room where we are standing. Some 
 of these things, however, betoken the 
 business and taste of the occupants. There 
 are mixed together confusedly musical 
 instruments and mathematical instruments ; 
 music-books and maps and charts ; books 
 of drawings and books of accounts ; play- 
 bills, hand-ballads, and sermons ; a large 
 mariner's compass and a " nativity " cast 
 by Lilly, the great living astrologer; a 
 pair of globes and smidry models of ships 
 and boats ; a warming-pan and a big case- 
 clock ; a prayer-book and a pair of spurs ; 
 two riding- whips, and three vizards or 
 masks for the lady to wear at the play- 
 house or upon other occasions ; a pill-box 
 for the gentleman, who is rather a valetu- 
 dinarian, often complaining of a disorder 
 in his eyes, and a thin japan box containing 
 black patches for the lady — for since the 
 Castlemaine set the fashion at coiirt 
 (having first borrowed it from the French) 
 every lady of any fashion wears a black 
 patch or two on her face as an indispen- 
 sable part of the toilette. Many other 
 objects there are huddled together; but 
 we must turn our attention from the inani- 
 mate to the animate. 
 
 Opposite to each other, lolling upon 
 high-backed chairs, and lookmg as if they 
 are heated and fatigued by some recent 
 exeition, are a lady and gentleman.
 
 THE CLERK OP THE NAVT AT HOME. 25 
 
 Eeacler, we introduce you to Mr. aud Mrs. 
 Pepjs. There is another chair turned 
 towards the "window, with the rediuidant 
 curls of a yvig flowing down its straight 
 back ; it might be taken for a second 
 gentleman, but it is only Pepys' periwig 
 hung there, for his readiness in going out. 
 Except when entertaining company Pepys 
 wears no periwig at home, but only a 
 velvet cap. Taking him as he now is, 
 without his ambrosial locks or flowing 
 mane, he is but a mean or common-look- 
 ing mortal. His dress, too, is rather 
 slovenly, for in these days people wear 
 fine clothes and clean linen only when 
 they go abroad, and throw them off for the 
 sake of economy as soon as ever they 
 return home. The Clerk of the Acts of 
 the Navy is about thirty-five years old, 
 but looks older. Ho has a better face 
 now than he had at a later period when 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller painted his portrait ; 
 yet we cannot call it a pleasing face, and 
 it is very far from being a handsome one. 
 The best thing about it is an expression of 
 ease and good temper; but he looks 
 cunning withal, and has an liabitual 
 twitching up of the nose, which makes 
 him appear as if he were always smelling 
 something disagreeable. There is no 
 mistaking by liis countenance that he is a 
 shrewd, clover, suljtle, and aflroit man, 
 wlio li;is thriven in the world and will yet
 
 26 THE DXJTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 thrive, who will permit no delicate sci-uples 
 to retard his advancement. His wife is 
 seven or eight years young-er than himself, 
 and looks still younger. A comely and 
 handsome blonde she is ! and if she has 
 rather too much embonpoint, no flesh can 
 be fairer or more transparent than hers. 
 She has a most happy, heart-at-ease, enjoy- 
 ing countenance, only slightly tinged with 
 vanity, and with the spirit of worldly 
 calculation, which her husband and her 
 worldly experience have put upon her. She 
 is almost as negligent in her indoor attire 
 as Mr. Clerk himself, and it grieves us to 
 say that her stockings are dirty, and her 
 slippers down at heel. But this lonely 
 indoor state is their chrysalis or grub 
 state. You should see Mr. and Mrs. 
 Pepys out of doors in the Park, or on the 
 Mall, or in the playhouse ! 
 
 "Pepys," says the lady, speaking first, 
 as became her sex, after a short silence, 
 *' well, Pepys, we have done a good morn- 
 ing's work, and have the satisfaction of 
 knowing that all is right according to 
 inventory — that plate money . . ." 
 
 The Clerk of the Acts lays a finger 
 perpendicularly^ across his lips, and saith — 
 " Bessy, my darling, speak a little lower." 
 
 "Tut,"_ says the lady, ''the stuffed 
 hanging is to the door, the windows are 
 all shut, these walls have no ears ! Mr. 
 Pepys, methinks you are a trifle over-
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVT AT HOME, 27 
 
 cautious and timid since the fright you 
 got last March at the Navy-office." 
 
 "Bessy, love/' says Pepys, in what is 
 almost a whisper, " with so much money 
 in the house, and so much plate and costly 
 gear, one cannot be too cautious, in 
 troublesome times like these, when Govern- 
 ment and people seem alike determined to 
 take whatever they can come at by the 
 strong hand." 
 
 " Most true ; but we have been, and we 
 are, careful enough. The servants have 
 no inkling of the coined gold and silver 
 that lie here ; nor do they know of one- 
 fourth part of the plate which we possess. 
 Pepys, it gladdens my heart to think of it ! 
 Fifty silver spoons, besides ladles, two 
 dozen silver dishes, six silver salvers ; and 
 then the silver lamps and candlesticks, 
 and all the rest. Three thousand pounds 
 in coined gold, and more than five hundred 
 pounds in silver ! Up heart, Samuel 
 Pepys, and be merry, for are we not 
 thriving apace! " 
 
 " We are thriving, and for that I am 
 merry, and thank God; but the State, 
 Mrs. Pepys, tlie State is going to ruin, 
 and for tliat I am sad." 
 
 " But, Samuel Pepys, the State is not 
 you and T ; if the State will not take care 
 of itsfilf", as we take care of ourselves, why, 
 to ruin it must go ! We shall soon be inch 
 enougli to do without it."
 
 28 THE DTTTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 " If we could but keep that which we 
 have gotten. But that would be hard to 
 do, my Bessy." 
 
 " Well, then, Pepys, the State shall not 
 be ruined at all. It is not ruined yet, long 
 as they have been talking about it. The 
 fire of London was to finish our overthrow, 
 but a year hath scarcely past, and the city 
 is already rising from its ashes, richer and 
 more stately than before. Let croakers 
 croak, and fanatics give out prophecies — I 
 believe it will all come to nothing, and 
 that the country and State, and you and I, 
 dear Pepys, will continue to go on much as 
 we have been doing." 
 
 " I could hope so too, were not all things 
 in Court and Government so completely out 
 of joint. The King minds nothing but 
 his pleasures, and though the Duke attends 
 to business, he has no head for it, and 
 fancies he has. That fifth-monarchy 
 rascal, Joel Wyke, said a good deal that was 
 true, and, in his ignorance, left unsaid many 
 things that are more dreadful, and quite 
 as true. We are at war both with France 
 and Holland, and the Dutch fleets are beat- 
 ing ours in almost every encounter." 
 
 " But," says Mrs. Pepys, interrupting 
 him, '^the Dutch fleets can't come to 
 London ; and this our good house in Seeth- 
 ing Lane will not go to sea, or fall in their 
 way — so we need not care a Dutch herring 
 about them."
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 29 
 
 Pepjs, without heeding- his wife con- 
 tinues : " Our Navy is in the saddest state, 
 having never been properly paid since the 
 downfall of old Noll's Government. The 
 want of money puts all things out of order, 
 but above all the Navy, in which our great- 
 est strength and glory once consisted; and 
 the King keeps on spending, and his 
 Ministers keep on cheating and robbing." 
 
 " The more honour to you, Samuel 
 Pepys, for saving so much, and robbing so 
 very, very little." 
 
 « Nay," quoth the Clerk of the Acts, "I 
 rob not at all." 
 
 " Nay," says the lady with a laugh, " do 
 not f ro\vn, Samuel ; but I sometimes 
 cannot quite make out the difference 
 between robbing and the taking of fees 
 and perquisites." 
 
 " I will explam it some other time," 
 saith Pepys, who then continues his dis- 
 course — " Our office is in an abyss of debt ; 
 oui' shipyards are empty ; there is no 
 discipline left in the fleet ; every day brings 
 news of fresh mutinies among the seamen, 
 who can get no wages, who know how 
 they are defrauded, and who will not fight 
 with any heart. The men, also, have 
 been brouglit to despise their officers upon 
 other grouiuls. Promotions have been 
 hurriedly iiiailo by my Lady Castlemaine 
 and the King's favourites and courtiers : 
 the veteran officers, the hardy and ex-
 
 30 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY, 
 
 perienced men trained to the sea-service 
 from their chiklhood — the officers who 
 beat French, Dutch, and Spaniards where- 
 ever they met them, and who made Europe 
 tremble at the name of old Noll, or of the 
 Commonwealth — have been driven out of 
 the service in disgvist, or have been put 
 upon the shelf in order to make room 
 for young lordlings and land-bred cava- 
 lieros who have never seen blue water 
 in their lives, and who are as ignorant of 
 the sea and its navigation, and of all that 
 concerns the sea, as I am innocent of 
 witchcraft. You shall find more than 
 half of the officers of a fii'st-rate ship laid 
 in their berths all at one time through 
 sea-sickness, and incapable of standing on 
 the quarter-deck from the day the ship 
 leaves port until she returns to it." 
 
 Here the lively Mrs. Pepys, who never 
 could listen patiently to a long discourse, 
 exclaims, "Poor dear lords, how much they 
 must suffer ! I think that the sea-nausea 
 is the worst of all sicknesses, and that the 
 man who invented the first ship ought to 
 have been sunk with it to the bottom of the 
 sea. What says that charming, naughty, 
 winning, wicked fellow Lord Buckhurst in 
 the new song that is just out ? — 
 
 To all you ladies now on land, 
 
 We men at Bca indite ; 
 But first would have you understand 
 
 How hard it is to write ;
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 31 
 
 The Muses, now, and Neptune too, 
 We must implore to wi-ite to you. 
 With a fa, la, la, la, la." 
 
 "Mrs. Pepjs," says the Clerk, "jou 
 are a little out of tune in that song. I 
 wish you would take a lesson from Knipp." 
 
 " Samuel Pepys, I wish you would not 
 always be a-nipping me with your slut 
 Knipp." And having said these words, 
 the lady allows her husband to proceed. 
 
 " 'Tis all very well to write verses, Bessy 
 dear, and to tell you ladies how their 
 paper, pen, and ink, roll up and down 
 their ships at sea; but officers who take 
 charge of ships ought to be able to be up 
 and doing, which these young fops are not ; 
 and then their respect and subordmation 
 to their superiors in command ! these 
 young sparks will challenge their captains, 
 nay, the very admirals of the fleet. A rake- 
 helly set are they, and for ever quarrelling 
 and duel-fighting, or swearing, tearing, and 
 blaspheming, or gambling, or — or doing 
 worse. When such are the officers, what 
 must be the men '? Mrs. Pepys, I tell you 
 there is no discipline left, no respect in 
 the sailors for their officers ; and, 
 instead of respect and loyalty, scorn and 
 hatred for thf King and (JovoDnnfMit thoy 
 serve. And then the perils and fearful 
 losses that we are sustaining througli the 
 rashness and ignorance of our sea- 
 captains. Our sliips founder in smooth
 
 32 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 water, are capsized by a cap of wind, and 
 are run ashore in clear weather. The 
 captains and lieutenants, who know 
 nothing, will not be advised by the pilots, 
 and are always swearing that they will 
 run them through the body if they will 
 not carry them where they choose to order 
 — though to do so would be ruin to the 
 ship. The blasphemy is terrible, and 
 drives out of the ships all the more serious 
 part of the mariners. Commissioner 
 Middleton says that one might believe 
 that the devil is chief commander of our 
 fleets, so much wickedness is there of all 
 sorts. The scared old Roundheads, who 
 fought so bravely for Noll, cannot stand 
 it, but desert and come home, and declare 
 that the end of the world must be approach- 
 ing. Captain Guy, who knows his busi- 
 ness, says that the whole Navy is governed 
 by a company of fools who will ruin it 
 entirel}'^ ; that the Dutch do fight in very 
 good order, and we in none at all ; that 
 even the true English valoui- seems almost 
 spent and worn out; and that many of 
 our sailors are declaring that they would 
 rather fight for the Dutch than against 
 them; anu t-;at they will not fight at all, 
 nor so much as weigh anchor until they be 
 paid. The crews of four ships mutiny in 
 one day at the Nore. These are sad con- 
 siderations, while so many of the enemy's 
 ships are triumphing in the sea. Oh !
 
 THE CLEEK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 33 
 
 how many ships be lost already ! Aiid 
 well may we lose them, since flag-officers 
 themselves be so ignorant of seamanship 
 as not to know which tack loses the wind 
 or keeps it. There is a young land sea- 
 lord that I know that Imoweth not the 
 difference between larboard and starboard, 
 and port-helm and helm-a-lee." 
 
 " Mr. Pepys," says the lady, " I think 
 you are singing out of tune, and time, and 
 place. What can I understand of your 
 larboards and starboards, and rigmarole?'* 
 The Clerk, perceiving that his wife had 
 been ruffled by his criticism upon her sing- 
 ing, pays a great flattering compliment to 
 her judgment in other matters, and telling 
 her that she has a head to understand any- 
 thing that she chooses to listen to, he con- 
 tinues, " The King can get no money any- 
 where unless he call the Parliament f orth- 
 ■with, and Parliaments he hates and fears. 
 There is no victualling the ships for any 
 long cruise — no paying the men (many of 
 the King's officers have not been paid 
 these four years), no trusting them even 
 if they were properly commanded ; and so 
 for these ancl otlior weighty reasons, and 
 on account of our many disasters at sea, it 
 is now resolved to keep our fleets at home, 
 to fortify our harbours, and to trust for 
 our dcffjuco to a few land troops, our 
 untrained militia, and our laud torts. But 
 our harbours will not be fortified in time; 
 
 8
 
 34 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 our land forts are as badly furnished as 
 our ships; and thoug-h every moment is 
 precious, everything is put off till to-mor- 
 row. The officers of the ordnance now in 
 employment be as foolish and perverse as 
 those of the Navy, and not a whit more 
 honest. In short, Mrs. Pepys, all things 
 are turned topsy-turvy, and the country 
 is in a disorganised, helpless condition. 
 While our great fleet is lying at the Hope, 
 and up the Medway by Chatham, the 
 Trench and Dutch are giving the law in 
 the Channel, and insulting our coasts with 
 ships of war and fire-ships. The King 
 and the Duke are going some day to go to 
 Sheemess to look after the fortifications 
 meant to defend the entrance into the 
 Medway ; but a match at tennis, a dance 
 at the Court, a new play, a new pretty 
 face, an}'thing is allowed to prevent their 
 going ; and when they go they will do 
 nothing, for there is no money ! no 
 money ! The King can no longer get 
 clothes for his own back, the grooms of 
 the chamber sweep his wardrobe at the 
 end of their monthly services, and the 
 mercers and tailors have such long heavy 
 bills owing to them that they will give no 
 more trust until they be paid." 
 
 " Sad ! sad, indeed ! " says the lady. 
 " My heart aches for the merry King. . . . 
 But, la ! Pepys, only to think that you 
 and I should have plenty of fine clothes
 
 THE CLERK OP THE NAVY AT HOME. 6o 
 
 when the King of England can get 
 none ! " 
 
 \i • " And, Bessy, he is as ill-furnished with 
 other commodities. The other day, at the 
 council-table, there was not a scrap of 
 writing-paper for his Majesty's use. The 
 Kins was vexed at this. Sir Richard 
 Browne told His Majesty he would call 
 the person whose work it was to provide 
 the paper ; the man being come, told His 
 Majesty that he was but a poor man, that 
 he was out of pocket four hundred or five 
 hundred pounds for paper, which was as 
 much as he is worth ; and that he cannot 
 provide it any longer without money, not 
 having received a penny since the King's 
 coming in. And Mr. Evelyn tells me of 
 several of the menial servants of the Coui-t 
 lacking bread, from not having received a 
 farthing of wages since His Majesty's 
 happy restoration seven years ago." 
 
 " The more thankful ought we to be to 
 Providence for oui- own good fortune and 
 present riches. Samuel Pepys, you take 
 these matters too much to heart. All may 
 end well yet. They say the King tnust 
 call a ParliaTiK'iit, and then ho will get 
 money inid pay his poor people — whom 
 heaven protect in the meanwhile ! — and 
 satisfy the mutinous sailc^rs, and put the 
 State in order. You thought you would 
 never get it, and yet you got money 
 enough to keep your promise with the
 
 36 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 sailors that besieged you last March in the 
 Navy-office. You were born under a 
 lucky star, Pepys, or you and I should not 
 be as we now are." 
 
 "I only got money enough to redeem 
 half the tickets held by those two com- 
 panies of men. I expect every day to see 
 that incarnate devil Joel Wyke and his 
 crew back again ; and other many hun- 
 dreds who have had no money at all." 
 
 " But, Pepys, I tell you they will get it 
 when the Parliament assembles." 
 
 " Before that happens the Dutch and 
 the French and the fanatics, among them, 
 may spoil all." 
 
 '^'But the King has sent to ask for a 
 peace, and the French King is tired of this 
 war ; and the Dutch say they are ready to 
 listen to terms." 
 
 " When a country sues for peace from 
 being imable to carry on war, it can expect 
 no terms but such as are ruinous or dis- 
 honourable." 
 
 "But we will get the peace and be 
 quiet, and recover our losses, and wipe out 
 our disgraces at some more favourable 
 juncture. England cannot be long 
 depressed ; things cannot remain in the 
 state they are now in." 
 
 " I fear that it is only a revolution that 
 can mend them." 
 
 "Well, Pepys, and what then? You 
 have thrived under one revolution, and
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 37 
 
 may prosper under another. When we 
 were first married, and you were beginning 
 to stir in the world, you saw nothing but 
 ruin to yourself and patron in the death 
 of Oliver and the overthrow of the Com- 
 monwealth ; but Oliver died, the Common- 
 wealth ivas overthrown, and from that 
 moment you began to rise in the world ; 
 and now you are a rich man, and your 
 patron, from a simple knight, has become 
 Earl of Sandwich." 
 
 Pepys smiles as he says that this is most 
 true ; and from this moment his spirits 
 brighten, and his thoughts nui into 
 another channel. He forgets the mis- 
 fortunes of his country, and thinks only 
 of his own prosperity and aggrandise- 
 ment. This is a very common habit with 
 him — not that Pepys does not love his 
 country, but that he loves Samuel Pepys 
 more. After whistling part of an air, and 
 singing part of the song — 
 
 " Great, good, and just, could I but rate 
 My grief, and tliy too ri^id fate ! " 
 
 the words of which were written by Mont- 
 rose, and tlie music by Pepys himself 
 (since tin; Kcstoiation), for Pepys is an 
 accompli.slied English musician, he smiles 
 again, niid more nidiantly than before, and 
 tlir'71 sjiifli, in a voice pitched in iiUogcther 
 a different key from the des]>on(leiif, tone 
 in which he had been talking, "Well,
 
 38 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Bessy, darling-, when I think of all the 
 past, I do really believe that I was born 
 under a happy star. Doctor Lilly, you 
 know, hath often told me so ; and though 
 Lilly doth predict so as to please his 
 friends, and those who pay him best, and 
 so as to keep in with the times, he as- 
 suredly hath made some marvellously true 
 hits." 
 
 *' A fig for Lilly and his astrology ! I 
 can tell you as well as he that you have 
 la helle etoile, and 'pour etre heureux hel 
 astre sufft ' — which means (for you know 
 not Trench quite so well as you ought to 
 do), 'to be lucky, nothing is wanting but a 
 good star ....'" 
 
 ''And pi-udence, Bessy, darling, a little 
 prudence and circumspection. Well ! as 
 we began life twelve years ago with 
 nothing, we must have been lucky. You 
 were little more than fifteen, and just out 
 of a foreign convent, I twenty -three, the 
 son of a tailor in Cheapside, with a small 
 business and a large family. I had nothing 
 but my Saint Paul's school and Cambridge 
 education, and the patronage of the Earl 
 of Sandwich, then Admiral to old Noll, 
 and plain Sir Edward Montague." 
 
 "It was a bold venture, truly," says 
 Mrs. Pepys ; " but love does wonders — 
 r amour fait des miracles." 
 
 "Do you remember, love, how joyous 
 we were when my Lord gave us a room in
 
 THE CLEEK OF THE STAVT AT HOME. 39 
 
 one of his outhouses, and found me some 
 work in copying papers and writing- letters 
 for him ? Do you remember how you used 
 to make coal fires, and wash my foul 
 clothes for me with your own fair young 
 hands ? Poor, pretty wretch ! 't was up 
 early with thee then, and none to help 
 thee in thy toils — no, not so much as a 
 wench of the smallest ! I had but three 
 shu-ts then and two homely ruffs. It was 
 hard living with us then, Mrs. Pepys ! " 
 
 " Very hard, and too hard to be borne, 
 Mr. Pepys ; had it not been for my youth 
 and the affection that was between us." 
 
 " Ah, Bessy ! youth is all gold, and fij-st 
 love the first of jewels. There be times 
 when I fancy I was happier then than I 
 now am. 
 
 The world was then so liglit, 
 
 I hardly felt tho weight ; 
 
 Joy ruled the day, aud love the night. 
 
 There is mcjrc ploasun;, Mrs. Pepys, in the 
 struggle — that is, when we are young — 
 than there is enjoyment in what the 
 struggle gives us ! " 
 
 "Yes, Samuel, but as we cannot be 
 young again, I am glad that the toil and 
 doubt are over." 
 
 " Still," continues the Clerk of the Acts, 
 "I like to tliink of the pitst. And you 
 have not for^'otten how, only seven years 
 ago, when fortune had begun to treat us a
 
 40 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 little more kindly, we lived in the garret in 
 Axe Yard, with our servant wench Jane, and 
 no other in family ; and how you dressed 
 the remains of a turkey for dinner on New 
 Year's Day, and in the doing of it burned 
 your hands. By my soul, Bessy, I love 
 you the better for these memories of the 
 distressed and pinching times. No con- 
 certs then, Bessy, no dances, no plays for 
 us — except once or twice, mayhap, in the 
 course of the year ! No fine clothes as 
 yet. I had but two cloth coats in the 
 world, and that grey jackanapes coat with 
 the black bindings I was fain to make last 
 for Sundays and holidays for three whole 
 years." 
 
 " Ay, and when my brother, after half- 
 starving at home, went to seek his fortune 
 in the Low Countries, we cut up that jack- 
 anapes coat and your old camlet cloak to 
 fit him out, and gave him ten shillings in 
 money that he might start in the world 
 like a gentleman." 
 
 " Pardon, Bessy, 'twas not the jackan- 
 apes coat with the black bindings that I 
 gave your brother, but my old close-bodied 
 light-coloured cloth coat, with a gold 
 edging to each seam, that said gold lace 
 being somewhat thin and tarnished, for 't 
 was the very lace of the best petticoat you 
 had when we were married." 
 
 " Well, Samuel," says the corrected 
 spouse, " your memory is better than mine.
 
 THE CLEKK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 41 
 
 and I do svippose you have got it down in 
 your diary. But to my story ; Avhen you 
 gave the coat and the ten shillings to my 
 brother to go seek his fortune among the 
 Dutch, it was about that time you found 
 we had gotten together, all debts being 
 paid, nearly one hundi-ed pomids, for which 
 we thanked God, never having hoped at 
 one time to have so much money." 
 
 " That, Bessy, was about the time that 
 you first began to wear black patches, and 
 that Mr. Pin, the tailor, brought home my 
 velvet coat and velvet cap, the first that 
 ever I had. Well ! we certainly have con- 
 tinued to thrive, and to thank God, there- 
 fore. I got a black silk suit shortly after 
 my velvet coat ; and, at the end of that 
 year, though the debts of the Navy were 
 swollen to three hundred and seventy-four 
 thousand pounds, I found myself about 
 five hundred pounds clear in the world, 
 and thanked God for it." 
 
 "And pray, Samuel, my beloved, what 
 was it you said was shown by your book 
 accounts this year ? " 
 
 *' We have been buying and spending, 
 Bessy ; we have been Iniying and si^onding 
 our money very freely tliese l;ist twelve 
 months ; we have been almost exorbitant 
 in our pleasure and pastimes and in our 
 purrhnsos nf fiiif flotlies : but still have we 
 not done amiss on the getting and saving 
 side of the book. As we are only at the
 
 42 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 beginning- of the month of June, I cannot 
 square for this year ; but hand me my 
 diary, love, and I will decipher and read 
 for you the entry I made on the thirty-fii'st 
 of December last." 
 
 " Do, Samuel ; it is as musical to my 
 ear as one of Purcell's, or one of thine own 
 sweetest songs " ; and, so saying, the lady 
 rises and brings from some corner in the 
 inner room a manuscript book. 
 
 Pej)ys opens the book, and reads from 
 ciphers, unintelligible to all that have not 
 the key, as follows : — 
 
 "31st Dec. 1666. — To my accounts, 
 wherein, at last, I find them clear and 
 right ; but to my great discontent do find 
 that my gettings this year have been 573Z. 
 less than my last : it being this year in all 
 but 29861. ; whereas, the last year I got 
 3560L And then again my spendings this 
 year have exceeded my spendings the last, 
 by 6441. ; my whole spendings last year 
 being but 509/. ; whereas this year it 
 appears I have spent 1154L, which is a 
 sum not fit to be said that ever 1 should 
 spend in one year . . . ." 
 
 " Tut, Samuel Pepys ! " says the lady ; 
 '^ I think it a very fitting and grand thing 
 to be said of you. It shows our spirit, 
 Pepys, and oui- taste — But, la ! who would 
 have thought when we were in the garret 
 in Axe Yard that we should ever have been 
 able to do it! Spell me some more of
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVT AT HOME. 43 
 
 your crooked ciphers — there is a good 
 balance to follow." 
 
 The husband reads on : " Yet, blessed 
 be God ! and I pray God make me thank- 
 ful for it, I do fiiid mjseK worth in money, 
 all good, above 62001. ; which is above 
 1800Z. more than I was worth the last 
 year. Thus ends this year of public 
 wonder and mischief to this nation." 
 
 " You need not read the reflections that 
 follow about the sad condition of the Navy 
 and the discontents of Parliament and the 
 country and the wickedness of the Court : 
 they would only put you in your melan- 
 choHc humour again, Pepys, and I know 
 them all by heart. It was only the figures I 
 wanted to learn. Six thousand two hundred 
 pounds in good coined money, and more 
 gotten since, and put in safe keeping! 
 Why, Samuel Pepys, this gives me cour- 
 age to speak again about our setting up a 
 coach. Sweetheart, you were born to ride 
 in a coach ! to bo your full self you inust 
 have a coach. All people of honour now- 
 a-days have tlieir coaches. There is no 
 perfect gentility williout a coach. These 
 hackneys are ah-oady become too common ; 
 they are dii-ty and dear, and are always 
 breaking down, and are otherwise danger- 
 ous. To say notliing of the smallpox and 
 otlifr tfrrihlf diseases, people liav ridden 
 in hackney coaches with the plague upon 
 them, and other people who have ridden
 
 44 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 in them afterwards have caught the infec- 
 tion, and so died. In your goings and 
 comings between this and Whitehall you 
 ofttimes ride in those hackneys. Pepys, 
 an you love me, set up a coach of your 
 o^vn, and let our liveries be green lined 
 with red. O ! Pepys, how grand we shall 
 appear when we drive to a play in our own 
 coach ! " 
 
 '' It is some time since, my love, that I 
 have had a mind to buy enough ground to 
 build me a coach-house and stable ; for I 
 have had it much in my thoughts that it 
 is not too much for me now, in degree or 
 cost, to keep a coach, but contrai'ily, that 
 I am almost ashamed to be seen in a hack- 
 ney. I am almost — nay, I am quite 
 decided. Yes, Bessy, so soon as things 
 get a little quieter I will assuredly set up 
 my coach. It may be next year, but it 
 also may be next month. And in the 
 meanwhile, let us be merry and go to the 
 play to-night. It is a long while, methinks 
 it is two whole weeks, since we were at the 
 play." 
 
 " And what house shall we go to ? to 
 the King's or to the Duke's ? " 
 
 " Oh ! to the King's house, my dear one ; 
 for Knipp is to do a part in a new play, 
 which she is said to do ravishingly fine. 
 We Avill go see, and hear that merry wench, 
 Knipp, by all means. . She was once one 
 of our family, you know, your own hand-
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 45 
 
 maiden. It was I first taught her to sing 
 and act a little, and (God forgive me !) first 
 put the notion of stage-playing into her 
 head." 
 
 *' Mr. Pepys," says the lady, and a cloud, 
 the slightest of all clouds of pique or 
 jealousy passes across her broad fair brow, 
 " Mr. Pepys, I hope you did not put still 
 worse mischief into that wench's head? 
 You think rather too much of Knipp — you 
 are always for running to see Knipp, Mr. 
 Pepys." 
 
 The husband sees the cloud, and applies 
 himself to dissipate it. " Knipp is a merry 
 baggage, and clever and pretty withal ; 
 but, my Bessy fair, what is she, or what is 
 Nelly Gwynn, or what are all the actresses 
 at the theatres, or the ladies at Court, com- 
 pared with you ? Has not my Lord Sand- 
 wich said many a time that in beauty you 
 beat them all '? And does not your own 
 Samuel dote upf>n you as much as Avhen 
 he first knew you, and used to look upon 
 you until his head grew giddy with love ? 
 Knipp might go to the devil for me, but 
 for the love and respect she bears to you 
 a.s her fonncr mistress. Let us go to the 
 Duke's house to-night, if it pleases you 
 better." 
 
 Mrs. Pepys, who well knows that her 
 husband is tlie most uxorious of men, 
 laughs away the remnant of what could 
 hardly be called a frown, and says. No !
 
 46 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 no ! they will go see Knipp to-night, and 
 that handsome youth Kynaston, that all 
 the Court ladies are mad after, the very 
 next time he acts at the other house. 
 Pepys is visibly delighted, and goes the 
 length of proposing that to-morrow (pro- 
 vided all is quiet) they shall make a 
 pleasure excui'sion into the country. There 
 is, however a little difference about the 
 coiu-se they shall take. Pepys would fain 
 go down the river, to talk over some new 
 inventions and contrivances with his friend 
 Mr. Evelyn, at Say's Court near Deptf ord, 
 and to Erith, to pay a visit to old Sir 
 John Roundtree, for the said Sir John has 
 a pretty and rich young ward, whose 
 person and fortmie he thinks will very 
 well suit the son of one of his friends and 
 patrons at court — Pepys being a great 
 matchmaker. But Mrs. Pepys, who has a 
 coach and pair running in her head, 
 together with certain other whims and 
 fancies she cannot for her life get rid of, 
 is all for borro\ving a friend's coach and 
 driving to the famous wells at Bamet, the 
 waters of which are said to have made 
 mothers for the first time of many ladies 
 who had been wives considerably more 
 than twelve years. 
 
 Mrs. Pepys had not yet made her hus- 
 band a father. If she had brought him 
 six sons and five daughters, as Pepys's 
 mother brought her husband the tailor in
 
 THE CLERK OP THE NAVY AT HOME. 47 
 
 the city, it is possible that the money- 
 boxes would not have been quite so full as 
 they now were. 
 
 Everybody, according- to Mrs. Pepys, 
 goes to the wells at Barnet. It is the best 
 frequented and most gallant of places. 
 Her husband, who had hoped to unite 
 profit with pleasure — for the making of a 
 good match is a common means of secur- 
 ing patronage — and who perhaps had 
 another project which might be forwarded 
 by his going down the river, holds out a 
 little for the water-trip to Erith ; but this 
 only makes his wife the more eager for the 
 land-trip to Barnet, and Mrs. Pepys 
 always has her own way in the end. For 
 his ready compliance in the present instance 
 she vouchsafes him a kiss, which the 
 loving Clerk of the Navy returns right 
 heartily. Tlie tender smack has scarcely 
 ceased to echo in the room ere a mighty 
 rapping is hoard at the street door. Pepys 
 opens a window, and sees that it is only 
 a messenger from the Navy-office. He 
 puts on a face of dignity and severity, and 
 is going to reprolif'iid the man for making 
 so rude a noise ; but the poor fellow cries 
 out : — " The devil is broken loose ! Joel 
 Wyke is on his way to the office with 
 thousands of snilors and sailors' wives; 
 th(! fanatics arr^ lighting in Towor-strcct 
 with the King's Majesty's guiinls, and 
 there is one of them going about stark naked
 
 48 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 with a pan of burning' coals upon liis head, 
 crying- out Woe ! woe ! and that the world 
 is to end to-morrow or the day after ; and 
 a warship full of mutinous sailors has come 
 past the Isle of Dogs with her guns all 
 double-shotted, and now all the people do 
 say that Tom of the Woods, who foretold 
 the great fire last year, hath just foretold a 
 much greater calamity for this." 
 
 Before this time a serving-boy had cau- 
 tiously opened the door to the well-known 
 messenger ; but Pepys had been too much 
 excited by the man's speech to find words to 
 tell him to enter the house and not alarm 
 the neighbours. Now, however, he bids 
 him enter and close the door, and tells him 
 to wait below in the hall until he is called 
 for. Mrs. Pepys is pale with fright, and 
 her husband has a tremulous motion about 
 the knees. But with inconceivable speed 
 they close, lock, and padlock their strong 
 chests, draw the panel which conceals a 
 dark recess where some money is deposited, 
 and put all things straight. Pepys then 
 withdraws the heavy curtain, and unlocks 
 the room door, and calls up the messenger, 
 who has little more to say except that 
 everybody has rtm away from the Navy- 
 ofl&ce but Master Hater and Strong the 
 porter, who want to know what they are 
 to do. Pepys cannot tell them, nor will 
 the terrified messenger go back to the 
 office, lest he should fall into the hands
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 49 
 
 of the sailors. The man, however, con- 
 sents to go by another road to warn the 
 Lord Mayor, and to make all the haste he 
 can to Whitehall, where there are some 
 mounted guards which maybe sent. Pepys 
 then goes and makes his toilette, and his 
 lady does the same with the assistance of 
 Mistress Knipp's successor. They have not 
 made up tlieir minds what to do, but think 
 it best to be prepared for a sortie ; for Joel 
 Wyke and many of the sailors know the 
 way to their house as well as they know 
 the way to the Navy-office. Pepys is 
 putting on his peruke in a negligent man- 
 ner, when a firing of muskets is heard in 
 the streets not far off, together with 
 tremendous shouts, and fearful shrieks of 
 women and children. Pepys approaches 
 the window, but his wife drops down on a 
 chair, and turns very pale. The fii-ing 
 ceases, but other sounds come nearer and 
 nearer — a rushing and running, and the 
 tread as of many thousands of feet are 
 heard all round about ; then there is a halt- 
 ing and fresh shouting. The words more 
 distinctly heard are "Money! Money!" 
 " Souls ! Souls ! " " Bread ! Broad ! " "Hell ! 
 Hell ! " " Cash our tickets ! " " Take heed 
 of the day of judgment ! " But these 
 sounds and words are blended together in 
 the strangest fashion ; and they are soou 
 interrupted by drums and trumpets that 
 seem sounding a charge. Tlie rush is re- 
 
 4
 
 50 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 newed, and after a while, a man naked as 
 he was born— save that he hath a clout 
 round his middle — turns into Seething 
 Lane. His pan of burning coal is gone, 
 but he still keeps shouting or shrieking 
 *' Woe ! Woe ! Look to your souls ! The 
 day of judgment is at hand ! " And a great 
 mob of fanatics that follow him repeat his 
 words in a mighty chorus, while some of 
 them cry " Have a care of hell ! the sins of 
 the world are too many ! the day of judg- 
 ment is close at hand ! Tom of the Woods 
 hath said it, and Tom is never mistaken ! " 
 In the wake of these fanaticals there come 
 running a great multitude of sailors and 
 sailors' wives, who are still shouting, 
 " Money ! Money ! Bread ! Bread ! We will 
 fire the city but we will have these tickets 
 changed ! We come for our own, and the 
 King sends his guard to fire upon us ! " 
 
 Pepys sees clearly enough that the sailors 
 and the fanatic mob are in full retreat, and 
 that no great harm is likely to be done to- 
 day in his part of the town. The crowd 
 in fact whirls by ; but the housekeepers in 
 the lane keep up part of the cry when all 
 have disappeared, screaming from their 
 windows and house-tops that Tom of the 
 Woods is the truest of prophets, and that 
 if he says a judgment is at hand, a judg- 
 ment will assuredly happen ; for last year 
 Tom of the Woods said that London would 
 be burned, and London was biu'ned.
 
 THE CLEEK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 51 
 
 As soon as the mob is fairly gone, and 
 troops of the trained bands of the city are 
 seen in motion at the end of Seething- Lane, 
 Pepys says he will go to Whitehall to 
 make fresh representations of the urgent 
 necessity of providing some money to pay 
 the seamen ; for so long as the sailors are 
 discontented there must be danger to the 
 whole State, and a frequent occasion given 
 to all the levellers and fifth-monarchy men 
 and fanatics of all sorts, to raise their 
 heads. Mrs. Pepys determines to accom- 
 pany him, and after waiting an hour, and 
 giving many careful orders to their ser- 
 vants, they sally forth on foot to take the 
 shortest way to the court end of town. 
 
 Hard by Charing Cross Mrs. Pepys calls 
 upon and stays with a friend, for, although 
 Whitehall is as open to all as any place of 
 public entertainment, the Clerk of the 
 Acts of tlie Navy does not consider it as 
 the fittest place to take his pretty wife to. 
 Pepys himself pmceeds, and soon goes up 
 to the matted gallery in the palace, where- 
 in the courtiers and statesmen of the day 
 do usually congregate. But he finds that, 
 as far as business is concerned, he might 
 as well have stayed at home in Seething 
 Lane. 
 
 The Lord High Admiral llie Duke of 
 Y<^)rk is gone ;i-[»le;isuring to (,'oo[)er's Jfill, 
 with LiKly D<nil)am and Sir Charles Sedley, 
 and various other gay dames and gallants j
 
 52 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 the King is away at the Castlemaine's, 
 very busy in making up a quarrel between 
 her ladysliip's nurserymaid and her lady- 
 ship's cook. Some of the Ministers and 
 Privy Councillors are gone one way, some 
 another. Pepys, however, finds in the 
 Duke's ante-chamber his friend Sir William 
 Coventry, who agrees with him that the 
 aspect of the times is very awfid. — Al- 
 though it is he that hath advised the King 
 to equip no fleet this sj)ring, and that has 
 been most active at the council board in 
 carrying this decision. — Coventry is a wise 
 man — a very wise man — a Solomon, quite 
 a Solomon at Court ; but, as he knows 
 that the Court has no money to pay the 
 sailors, he says he will advise the King to 
 take measui-es of severity against the fana- 
 tics in the city, and to get hold of Tom of 
 the Woods, whose prophecies he takes to 
 be the main cause of the scandalous be- 
 haviour of the seamen. Pepys thinks this 
 is beginning at the wrong end, but is far 
 too prudent to say so ; and, giving the 
 right honourable member of the Privy 
 Council some information respecting the 
 evil seer, and the woods in Kent which 
 Tom hath been wont to frequent, he bows 
 and takes his leave. At his wife's friend's 
 by Charing Cross he finds a good dinner, 
 and then certain intelligence that the city 
 is perfectly quiet, and that the train-bands 
 have done wondi-ous things. Therefore
 
 THE CLERK OF THE NAVY AT HOME. 53 
 
 he and Mrs. Pepys go to the King's house 
 after all. Knipp excels, and does her 
 part very extraordinarily well, Pepys is 
 in ecstasies, more especially when Knipp 
 sings his own song "Beauty Eetire." He 
 and Mrs. Pepys are marvellously curious to 
 know who a certain lady is that never takes 
 off her black mask, and that hath a beauti- 
 ful white hand. They stay till the end of 
 the play, then seek a hackney, and so 
 home at about tAvelve o'clock at night. 
 Their servants tell them that a good nmn- 
 ber of the fanatics and riotous sailors have 
 been seized, and made fast in jjrison. 
 They thank God, therefore, and eat a little 
 supper, and so to bed. Mrs. Pepys dreams 
 of her coach and pair of Flanders mares 
 and of the Wells at Barnet. Her husband 
 has his pleasant visions, too, but they are 
 mixed with ugly siglitsand sounds, such as 
 sailors' tickets and Joel Wyke's harangues, 
 naked fanatics with burning coals on 
 their pates, a7id sailors crying, "Pay, pay! 
 Money, mo!iey ! " (Jli ! Clerk of the Acts 
 of the Navy, you will have uglier dreams 
 yet before this wondei-ful and, to England, 
 disgraceful year, sixteen hundred and 
 sixty-seven, be past and gone.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 A Voyage to Eeith. 
 
 The merry King and his Court eagerly 
 embraced the opinion that, as the French 
 King had testified a willingness to nego- 
 tiate, and to separate his interests from 
 those of the Republican De Witt and the 
 Seven United Provinces, there was nothing 
 to fear from the Dutch ; and that as for 
 the mutinies and riots of the sailors they 
 were entirely owing, not to want and 
 hunger, but to the fanatics that lurked in 
 the city, and to the disaffected prophecy- 
 ings of Tom of the Woods, a strange old 
 man, who had been leading an eremitical 
 life in the woods between Woolwich and 
 Erith. It was therefore resolved in a 
 hurried council, which was held between 
 night and morning, in the matted gallery 
 at Whitehall, that the Lord Mayor and 
 the train-bands should be thanked for 
 what they had done in putting down the 
 rioters ; that a new proclamation should 
 be hurled, some day soon, at the heads of 
 the fanatics; and that some confidential 
 servant of the Court should be sent to 
 procure the arrest of Tom of the Woods 
 with as little noise as possible.
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 55 
 
 The morrxinsr after the visit of the Clerk 
 of the Acts of the Navy a fiiiely-dressed 
 gallant, followed by a serving-man almost 
 as fine as himself, issued from Whitehall, 
 and swaggered towards Charing Cross 
 Stairs, a usual place of embarkation for 
 the Court end of town. It was rather an 
 early hour for a com-tly spark to be up and 
 abroad ; but his flushed cheek and reddened 
 eyes, and a certain unsteadiness in his 
 gait, seem to indicate that this cavaliero 
 had not been in bed. He was a tall, well- 
 proportioned man, and otherwise well- 
 favoured by nature; but dissipation and 
 other evil habits had spoiled his counten- 
 ance, and there was no looking in his face 
 without seeing rake and bully written upon 
 it in most legible characters. He was not 
 young ; but his grey hairs were concealed 
 by a Louis Quatorze periwig, and his 
 clothes, gay in colour and of the newest 
 fasliion, holpod to give an air of juvenility. 
 He turned ijito i\ut first tavern he found 
 open just to settle his head and nerves, or 
 to take a hair of the tail of the dog wliieli 
 liiid bitten him oveniiglit. The Lambeth 
 ale was so cool and gocxl that he took a 
 second cup of it; and as the hostess had a 
 passal)le face, and a very roguish laughing 
 eye, lie stayed gossiping for nearly an 
 hour. He and liis man then resumed their 
 walk to the stairs, where a score or two 
 of watermen saluted them witli cries of
 
 66 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 *' Eastward, ho ! Boat, your honours." 
 " Monsieur Faittout," said the ahnost 
 hiccuping cavalier to his attendant, " we 
 must have a boat of the largest and two 
 pair of oars, for I have no fancy to spoil 
 my best cloak in shooting the bridge, 
 and it is sometimes rough water below 
 Greenwich. See to it, Faittout ; and tell 
 these rascaille people not to make such a 
 noise. It is time they should learn better 
 manners when they see a gentleman of the 
 Court." 
 
 Now Faittout, who came from the banks 
 of the Seine, could scarcely speak intelligi- 
 ble English, and many mistakes were 
 committed, and there was a great deal of 
 laughter among our jolly Thames watermen 
 before a bargain could be concluded, or 
 even before it could be understood by the 
 boatmen that his honour wanted a good 
 boat to carry him as far as Erith. At 
 length the necessary arrangements were 
 made, and the cavalier and his Frenchman 
 stepped into a trim launch, well manned 
 with foui* stout rowers, and the master 
 waterman to steer. As they shot away 
 from the stairs a shrewd-looking old boat- 
 man said, " I wonder whether that fine 
 spark hath money enough about him to 
 pay the fare. If I had been Jerry I would 
 have made him pay beforehand, for 'tis a 
 serious pull from here to Erith. As for 
 casts across to the playhouse at Bankside
 
 A TOrAGE TO ERITH. 57 
 
 they are, singly, but small matters ; and 
 yet for those casts I wot not how much is 
 owing to me by these Court gallants, who 
 never have any money about them, and 
 are always promising to pay next time." 
 
 " Ah ! Ben," said another of the boat- 
 men, " these Charing Cross Stairs be about 
 the most pestilent beggarly stairs for 
 sculls or oars that be anywhere upon the 
 river ! They be so swarmed by your penni- 
 less Court gallants. Merry waterman as I 
 am, I could almost find it in my heart to 
 wish that the bygone times wei-e not by- 
 gone ; for if the Roundheads did set their 
 sour faces against sports, and shut up the 
 playhouses and the bear-gardens at Bank- 
 side as everywhere else, they always paid 
 their fares, and never thought of drawing 
 swords upon a man as these cavalieros do 
 at the slightest offence taken." 
 
 By this time the boat was well out in 
 the bed of the river, and going at good 
 speed. It was just at tlie turn of tide, 
 and the four men pulled vigorously and 
 gaily, hoping to reach their destination 
 before low wator. But when they came 
 abreast oi tlu' Temple Stairs the cavalier 
 sings — 
 
 "Noun ne pouvonH rion trouver snr l;i terre 
 Qui Hoit HI hon, ni hI Vx>au (]ue l:i voiTe," 
 
 and must needs liiii<l and take a morning 
 draught with a friend, who is known to
 
 58 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 have some strange and incomparably good 
 claret. This occupied good part of an 
 hour. When our gentleman embarked 
 again he was fresh and boisterously merrj, 
 so much so that he had some smart thiag 
 to say to every boat they met or crossed, 
 and when no boat was near he either sang 
 bits of songs or talked and laughed with 
 his attendant. Some of his songs were 
 Enghsh, but more were French ; his talk 
 with Monsieur Faittout was wholly in 
 French, which considerably annoyed the 
 boatmen. Notwithstanding the paralysed 
 state of trade there were a good many 
 boats upon the river, and several eminent 
 merchants were seen takmg this pleasant 
 highway from their houses in the country 
 to the city. Our cavalier made some en- 
 vious remark about the wealth of these 
 city traders ; but he consoled himself with 
 the thought that all trade was but a trick, 
 and quoted his friend Sir John Denham, 
 pointing at the citizens' boats as he said — 
 
 " There, with like haste, thi-ough several ways they 
 run, 
 Some to undo, and some to be undone." 
 
 When they came near to the stairs at 
 the city side of London Bridge the cavalier 
 must needs stop again, for a gaily-dressed 
 lady had just landed from a boat, and was 
 displaying a pair of unusually fine legs as 
 she ascended the rough wooden steps.
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 59 
 
 The old master of the boat, who was steer- 
 ing, hoped and beg-ged that his honour 
 would not tarry lojig, as the tide was 
 running so finely down now, and as it 
 would be hard toH to make Erith if they 
 did not make it before the return tide. 
 The cavaliero said he would be back to the 
 boat in no time. As master and man ran 
 up the steps, the master singing — 
 
 " When ladies call, I'll have at all ; 
 My father did so before me," 
 
 old Jerry scratched his head, and wished 
 he had never entered into competition for 
 such a fare. One quarter of an hour passed, 
 and then another — and there was no mis- 
 taking the progress of time in that latitude, 
 so abounding in church clocks and chimes ; 
 but when tlie third quarter struck, old 
 Jerry lost the little patience that was left 
 to him, and the men wished the courtier 
 to all manner of unmentionable places. 
 The master of tlie boat was near upon 
 deciding' that the best thing to do would 
 be to put up witli the loss of his fare so 
 far, and think no more of the courtier, 
 when his lionour liove in sight with a 
 green parrot in a cage in liis hnnd, and 
 witli lii.s vah.'t close behind liim carrying 
 a monkey. A crowd of dirty little boys 
 followed the waiting-man, being attracted 
 and amused by the nionkey, wlio did not 
 like his present mode of conveyance, but
 
 60 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 grinned and bit at poor Faittout, who 
 made almost as many grimaces as Jacko 
 himself. As old Jerry handed the cava- 
 lier over the gunwale he said, in no very 
 pleasant tone, " Your honour has made 
 us lose the best of the tide ; we shall have 
 it right against us before we get to Erith." 
 
 " Never mind, base Bezonian," said the 
 cavalier; "your men will row all the 
 harder, and we will hoist a sail when below 
 Deptford." 
 
 The boat again was put in motion, the 
 bridge — then London's only bridge — was 
 cleared without disaster, and the cavalier 
 again began to talk volubly with his 
 attendant. 
 
 " Faittout," said he in French, " though 
 the baggage was fro ward, and not worth 
 the running after, it was well she met my 
 eye, for otherwise I should never have 
 thought of these presents, which will be 
 very acceptable in the house to which we 
 are going. I think I once promised the 
 young mistress a talking-bird, as she talks 
 so little herself, and the old dame has a 
 great penchant and partiality for apes." 
 
 "Parhleu!" said Faittout; "then I 
 wish she had got this mischievous beast in 
 charge, for he has bitten my hands in 
 three places already." 
 
 " Hold him not so tight, Faittout. Give 
 him his chain ; he is too prudent a beast 
 to quit the boat by leaping overboard."
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 61 
 
 The waiting-man, happy to be released, 
 let the monkey go. 
 
 The cavalier continued his discourse upon 
 the sino'ular good fortune of being attracted 
 to shore, and led to a place where there was 
 so good a choice of monkeys and outlandish 
 birds. As he was talking in this strain 
 the parrot in the cage began to talk also, 
 and to swear and scream, in the fashion of 
 parrots who have had a long education on 
 board ship, at the monkey, who, after biting 
 the calf of old Jerry's leg, and getting a 
 good kick in return, had set himself down 
 in front of the cage to torment poor Poll. 
 Before they got from the rapids of London 
 Bridge to the shallows of the Isle of Dogs, 
 old Jerry and his men were about equally 
 sick of all their four passengers, and 
 heartily wished they had them all on shore. 
 For the monkey and the parrot we cannot 
 speak, but as they were off Greenwich the 
 courtier and the waiting-man assuredly 
 wished themselves on shore. For a boatful 
 of mutinr>us or discontented sailors came 
 up with theiu, and aftfr much violent 
 language threatened to throw them over- 
 board as a pair of the Court thieves that 
 robbed the King, and caused the poor sea- 
 men of his Majr-sty's Navy to be left to 
 starve. Inattentive as h«> was, and more 
 than half bf'sottcd, the cavalier could not 
 but observe that those forward boisterous 
 men were cheered and encouraged by otlier
 
 62 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 sailors and boatmen, and that there was a 
 great deal of confusion on every part of 
 the river below bridge, and not the least 
 sign of any guard or police to preserve 
 order. The insolent boat, however, made 
 land at one of the Greenwich stairs with- 
 out attemjjting any actual mischief. When 
 he was a good liaK-mile from them, the 
 cavalier talked big of what he would have 
 done if they had assaulted him, and called 
 them candidates for Tyburn. Old Jerry 
 ventured to say that many poor sailors 
 were di-iven desperate by want, and that 
 mischief must come of it ; that he was 
 sure the King's Majesty knew not how 
 much these men and their wives and 
 children were suffering, or surely he would 
 find money to relieve them. And gener- 
 ally at this time, and even at a later 
 period, the people of England were disposed 
 to give Charles credit for having a kind 
 heart and good intentions, and to throw 
 the entire blame of the national distress, 
 and the gross and palpable mismanagement 
 of the State, upon his Ministers and court- 
 iers. Faittout said that if such an insult 
 as had been offered to his master had been 
 offered in France to a French courtier. 
 King Louis would have hanged up every 
 one of the sailors. He also said that the 
 English people knew not what starvation 
 meant, and that if they wanted to learn 
 what starving really was they ought to
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 63 
 
 go see the poor in his coiuitry. The gentle 
 knight said that the English people had 
 become over-free and insolent since tht> 
 beginning of the great Rebellion, but that 
 he hoped the King would soon be enabled 
 to restore the Marshalsea Court and the 
 Star Chamber, and so bring them back to 
 reason and a proj^er reverence to their 
 superiors. The gallows and the pilloiy 
 were the best instructors of the rabble, not 
 but that scourging at the cart's-tail, and 
 cutting off men's ears, made very salutary 
 impressions on the popular mind ; and he 
 thought that a score or two of gibbets 
 erected along the river would purge the 
 land of its present evil humours and dis- 
 contents. He said this in French, and 
 having said it he ceased to think at all about 
 it, and began to sing a French love-song ; 
 and when he had finished his French love- 
 song he sang a verse of an English drinking- 
 song, written by Alexander Brome, one of 
 the Anacreons of the cavalier party : 
 
 " Come, como, let us drink, 
 'Tin in viiin to think. 
 Like fools, on grief and Badness ; 
 Let our money fly, 
 And onr son'owH die, 
 All worl'lly care is madness ; 
 But sack and good cheer 
 Will, in Hpito of our fear, 
 IiiHjiiro our souIh with gladnoHH." 
 
 They were now getting below Doptford,
 
 64 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 but there was little or no wind, and the 
 very little that blew was not favourable. 
 No sail could be hoisted, but the boatmen 
 worked all the harder in order to save the 
 tide, only hoping that his honour would 
 remember their toils in the drink-penn3% 
 Although it was a beautiful day, both man 
 and master grew very fidgety and sick of 
 the boat. Neither of them could find 
 recreation in watching the floating summer 
 clouds, or the flow of the majestic river, or 
 in catching the notes of the birds which 
 played among the rushes close by the 
 water-side, or which sang merrily out from 
 the woods and thickets on the slopes of the 
 Kentish hills. No ships and scarcely any 
 boats were in motion in this part of the 
 Thames, for trade was stopped, and had 
 been for weeks. The cavalier pathetically 
 lamented the toils and discomforts that 
 must be undergone by those who faithfully 
 serve princes. He then played a little 
 with the monkey, and discoursed a little 
 with the parrot ; and as the next and very 
 best thing he could do, he stretched him- 
 self at his full length, and went fast asleep 
 in the hope of not waking until they came 
 to Erith. But Faittout fell asleep also, 
 and the monkey, to the great diversion of 
 the watermen, began to play with the 
 cavalier's periwig ; and this waked him, 
 and brought down a volley of French oaths 
 upon the head of the French valet for not
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 65 
 
 having prevented it. Jacko was made fast 
 to one of the boat-seats, and master and 
 man returned to their slumber. But it 
 was now the parrot's turn to mm'der sleep, 
 and she set up such a screaming and 
 screeching that the cavalier sprung to his 
 feet and nearly fell overboard. " Faitt- 
 out," said he, " I took that for the voice 
 of the vintner's wife at the Heaven tavern. 
 It was just so she screamed the other 
 night when Tom Talbot and I drew upon 
 the varlet her husband for not brinffinsr us 
 more canary. 
 
 The valet, only half awake, muttered, 
 *' Ouif Monseigneur, la voix cle Madame est 
 terrible.'' Meaning to say, that the voice 
 of the vintner's wife at the Heaven tavern 
 was very dreadful. 
 
 Old Jerry himg a tarpaulin over the bird- 
 cage, which simple operation put a stopper 
 upon the bird's tongue, and allowed the 
 passengers to get a good long nap. If the 
 courtier, or hanger-on of the court, awoke 
 somewhat soberer than he was before he 
 fell asleep, he also awoke in a more irri- 
 table humour. The men also were irritable 
 and very wfury, smd said that they must 
 stop and rest and refresh themselves for a 
 few minutes at a little house of entertain- 
 ment close by the waterside, under the 
 village and church of Charlton. Upon 
 mention of this not unreasonable intention 
 the cavalier flew out in a passion, calling
 
 66 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 the poor boatmen rascal-people, buffle- 
 heads, sluggards, and beer-swillers, and 
 telling them that he must not be stayed, 
 as he was going upon the King's business 
 — upon State business of the utmost im- 
 portance. 
 
 "I wish," said one of the watermen, 
 " that your worship's honour had thought 
 of this when you stayed so long at the 
 Temple, and when you ran after that pair of 
 clean Hnen stockings at the bridge stairs ! " 
 
 Upon this the cavalier flew into a still 
 higher passion, and called the man many 
 hard names. Now the London watermen, 
 bemg at all times a bold and free set of 
 fellows, would not stomach this language, 
 or be induced by it to forego the little rest 
 and the cup of drink they had proposed to 
 themselves ; and so they pulled in to shore, 
 made the boat fast, and went up to the 
 alehouse, leaving the courtier, the valet, 
 the parrot, and the monkey to themselves. 
 The poor fellows, however, scarcely stopped 
 one quarter of an hour. By the time they 
 got halfway down Halfway Reach the tide 
 was out ; and very soon it began to make 
 against them. This increase of toil did 
 not add to their good humour, and the 
 slowness of the boat's progress increased 
 the irritation of the very impatient and 
 now very himgry cavalier. At last, how- 
 ever, they pulled round the j)oint into 
 Erith Reach, caught sight of the taper
 
 A VOYAGE TO EEITH. 67 
 
 spire and ivy-covered walls of the village 
 church, and made Erith ; but they were 
 all in a very ill-humour, which was soon 
 made worse by sundry little circumstances. 
 As the tide had only just begmi to rise, 
 there was a long scrip of mud between the 
 water's edge and the little wooden pier or 
 wharf of the village, and this must be 
 crossed, and can hardly be crossed without 
 mischief to fine garments. Old Jerry the 
 master, having an eye to his fare, proposed 
 that two of the men should doff the nether- 
 most parts of their attire and carry the 
 passengers on their shoulders. The men, 
 despairing of the drink-pemiy, and smart- 
 ing with the ill-treatment they had 
 received, at first refused to do anything of 
 the kind, one of theiii saying, with particu- 
 lar emphasis, that it should never be said 
 an Englishman had made himself a beast 
 to be ridden upon by a Fi-ench varlet. 
 There was nobody on the wharf save two 
 or three little boys and a couple of old 
 women, who were very busy in pacldng 
 shrimps or in eating them. Old Jerry, 
 knowing the dogged obstinacy of his lads, 
 hailed the two old women ; but both master 
 and man flew out against such a mode of 
 conveyance, the cavalier RW('ari?ig that it 
 would Ije a stain upon liis kniglitliood, and 
 Faittout protesting that his respect and 
 tendresse for the fau' sex would not allow 
 him to use ladies in that way.
 
 68 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 But the thought uppermost in both 
 their minds was that the old women might 
 stumble with them and so spoil their 
 finery, this thought being perhaps mingled 
 with an mipleasant idea of the laughable 
 figures they would cut being so mounted. 
 
 At last the cavalier had recourse to 
 smooth words and j)romises ; over and 
 above the fare agreed upon he would give 
 the boat's crew a good silver crown. 
 Being thus mollified, though not yet 
 restored to their habitual good humour, 
 two sturdy fellows partially stripped them- 
 selves and got into the water. The 
 knight, taking the cage with the parrot in 
 it in his hand, mounts first by throwing 
 his two legs over the boatman's shoulders, 
 and holding on by the fellow's rough poU. 
 Poll being restored to daylight by the 
 removal of the tarpaulin renews her 
 hooting and screaming. Faittout vows he 
 cannot manage the monkey, but his bearer 
 says it will be a queer thing if a London 
 waterman can't carry a Frenchman and a 
 monkey both together; and catching at 
 the chain and coiling it round his wrist, he 
 brings Jacko tight under his left arm, 
 telling him to be well behaved. Then 
 Faittout mounts and away they go. 
 
 The cavalier and the parrot got safely to 
 the little wharf and to terra firma, but it 
 fared otherwise with the valet and monkey. 
 Just as they were in the deepest part of
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 69 
 
 the mud, Jaeko, though firmly and skil- 
 fully held, contrived to give the boatman a 
 fearful bite in the fleshiest part of his arm. 
 The fellow swore a loud oath, importing 
 that the filthj^ ape had made his teeth 
 meet in his flesh ; and then he gave a 
 lurch to leeward, and as Paittout did not 
 sit steady, the centre of gravity was lost, 
 and boatman. Frenchman, and monkey lay 
 sprawling in the mud and slush. How 
 the boatmen laughed, and how the old 
 women and little boys laughed and 
 screamed, need not be told. Old Jerry, 
 whom age had made prudent and circum- 
 spect, told his two fellows in the boat that 
 they were putting their silver crown in 
 jeopardy ; but if possession of the King's 
 crown in the Tower had depended upon it, 
 the lads could not have stopped their 
 laughter. It took tliem some time to disen- 
 tangle themselves from one another and 
 clear the sludge from their eyes ; but 
 eventually the three who had been 
 sprawling in the mud got singly and 
 severally to the wharf, the monkey 
 dragging his chain after him and look- 
 ing very discons<jlate, and the valet raving 
 and swearintj in French, and being on 
 the utmost verge of rage and mortifica- 
 tion, and so soiled that there was no telling 
 of what stuff or what colours his dress was 
 ma^le — that dress which but a few minutes 
 before had been so bright and gay — that
 
 70 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 dress whicli had not yet been paid for, and 
 which was not likely to be soon replaced 
 by a new suit, as there was hardly left in 
 the wide range of London a single tailor 
 so credulous or desperate as to trust a man 
 like the cavalier any longer. The boat- 
 man, who was still smarting with the 
 monkey's bite, was at first disposed to be 
 very wroth ; but when he looked at 
 Faittout he could not help joining in the 
 laugh which still continued, and which in 
 fact never stopped until the waterman 
 who had carried the cavalier held out his 
 hand with the palm open, and with a bow 
 and a scrape asked his honour for the fare. 
 The cavalier swore with a terrible oath 
 that his comrade had purposely thrown his 
 valet and monkey into the mud, that they 
 were all of them a traitorous set, and that 
 he would give them no crown and no drink- 
 ing money whatever. He put his hands 
 into his deep pocket to draw out the stipu- 
 lated fare and not a doit more ; but after 
 fumbling for a good minute, all the money 
 he could fiiid did not amount to half the 
 fare. He asked his valet whether he had 
 not a few pieces of silver about him. 
 Faittout said that his pockets were empty 
 — that he had emptied them at the bird 
 and beast shop to make up the price of the 
 monkey. For a moment the cavalier 
 seemed rather disconcerted ; but putting 
 on his most com-teous face — which was not
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 71 
 
 done without a great effort — he put all the 
 money he had into the boatman's hand, and 
 told him he would pay the remainder the 
 day next after to-morrow, when he would 
 be returned to London. The fellow set up 
 a whoop and holla, and called to old Jerry 
 in the boat that the spark was for being 
 off without paying his fare. At these 
 sounds the last laugh in the boat was cut 
 short ; and without caring for their clothes 
 and comfort, old Jerry and the two lads 
 leaped into the water, ran across the mud, 
 and joined their two comi-ades on the 
 wharf. As they carried oars and a sharp 
 boathook with them, they were not to be 
 scared by the cavalier, who had drawn his 
 long rapier, but who found himself obliged 
 to come to a parley. 
 
 " By a slight inadvertence," said the 
 knightly personage, " I came from the 
 court without my purse, and having made 
 some purchases on the way " 
 
 " Tliat screech-owl of a bird and that 
 biting monkey," said the man that had 
 been bitten. 
 
 "I have not wherewith to satisfy your 
 immoderate demands ; but come to me the 
 day next after to-morrow to Whitehall, 
 and you shall be paid in full ; but drink- 
 money ye will have none, for ye have 
 all behaved scandalously." 
 
 " 1 will to none of your Whitchalls," 
 said old Jerry ; " I know well wliat that
 
 72 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 land is, and what an honest man gets by 
 going to it. I should get cuffed and mal- 
 treated, and then clapped up in the gate- 
 house like silver-oar Sam, who is still in 
 prison for going into the purlieus of the 
 court to ask his own." 
 
 "Then," quoth the knight, "will I 
 send down to you at Charing Cross 
 Stairs this my gentleman, whom ye will 
 all know." 
 
 " We shall never forget him," said one 
 of the boatmen, eyeing Faittout, and 
 putting his tongue out at one corner of his 
 mouth ; " but the chances are we shall 
 never see him come to our stairs again, or 
 never with the money in his hand." 
 
 The cavalier was going to storm at this 
 distrust of a gentleman's word; but his 
 bullying propensities were checked by see- 
 ing that several aquatic or amphibious 
 looking men had gathered in his rear. 
 They were sailors and fishermen, who had 
 come down from the village, and who 
 showed a marked bias in favour of the 
 boatmen. " 'Tis shameful and monstrous," 
 said one of them, " that poor sailors should 
 be cheated and starved, and that these 
 high-flying sparks should have no bowels 
 for oiu- honest watermen." 
 
 " We are robbed and cheated by some 
 of them every day," said one of old Jerry's 
 men; "there is no honesty left above 
 bridge ! But we did not come all this way
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 73 
 
 in our best launch to be maltreated, and 
 robbed besides of our dues." 
 
 " Take off his gold-laced cloak, and keep 
 it for your fare," said one of the Erith 
 fishermen. 
 
 " And let us drag him through the 
 mud," said a very strange-looking Erith 
 waterman, who wore a red coat, and had 
 a very strange voice — a voice which was 
 sometimes a squeak, and sometimes a 
 growl — "I say," added this red-coated 
 man, beginning with his squeak and ending 
 with his growl, " Let us give his honour 
 a mud-bath, like his ape and that other 
 outlandish monkey." 
 
 " Do," said Knapp, the baker, another 
 of the droll-visaged worthies of Erith, who 
 had just arrived. 
 
 These two last propositions quite un- 
 manned the cavalier. He offered to leave 
 both parrot and monkey in pledge for 
 payment, but Jerry and his men would 
 none of them, liaving had too much of them 
 already ; and they vowed they would have 
 their money ere they left tlie courtier. In 
 these straits the cavalier, who had made 
 some awkward appearances before-time, 
 and wlio wisliffl to avoid making his first 
 salutation to liis kinsman this time by 
 borrowing money from him, found himself 
 under the absolute necessity of naming 
 Sir .John lirnnidtroo, and n'f|ur'stiiig tliiit 
 old Jerry or one of his lads would follow
 
 74 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 him up the hill to Sir John's house, where 
 the money would imrely be paid. The 
 name of Sir John stilled the tempest in a 
 moment : the Erith folk all saying that 
 Sir John was a man of worship, and 
 justice of the peace, a most worthy man, 
 and honest in all his dealings, and an 
 especial good friend and employer of the 
 poor ; and Knapp the baker vowing that 
 there was not so good a knight anywhere 
 between Erith and Gravesend on the one 
 side, or between London and Erith on the 
 other. Upon these satisfactory explanations 
 touching the character of Sir John Round- 
 tree, old Jerry agreed to go up to the 
 house for the money. As, however, the 
 distance from the river to the house was 
 more than half a mile, and as Jerry knew 
 not but that the cavalier and his man 
 might play him a trick by the road, he 
 called upon two of his smart lads to follow 
 him. Two or three of the Erith sailors 
 said they would go too ; for they had 
 nothing to do just now, and had very good 
 hopes of getting a glass of good ale if 
 they went up to Sir John's — it being a 
 very ancient maxim in that honourable 
 family that it was very unlucky to send 
 any man away from the gate without 
 giving him to drink. Neminem tristem, 
 demisit — the Roiuidtrees never allowed any 
 man to depart with an empty belly. When 
 these preliminaries had been settled, and
 
 A VOYAGE TO ERITH. 75 
 
 when Monsieur Faittout had somewhat 
 freed himself from the mud which covered 
 him from head to foot, the march up the 
 hill began — and a curious march it was. 
 Old Jerry, with a boathook in his hand, 
 marched first; then went Faittout, who 
 was still very slimy, leading that pestilent 
 monkey by the chain; next went the 
 cavalier with the cage and parrot, and 
 then Jerry's two smart lads (each with an 
 oar in his hand), and the Erith fishermen 
 and sailors. The two old women stayed 
 where they were with the shrimps ; but the 
 dirty little boys followed the procession, and 
 as they went from the wharf through the 
 straggHng village, half a score other ragged 
 little urchins ran out to see the monkey, 
 and to follow it up the hill, clapping their 
 hands and shouting at its caprices and 
 gambols, which continued to be the cause of 
 great distress to the serving-man, for the 
 sad ape would not go straight forward, but 
 kept jumping from one side of the road to 
 the other, or running round and round, 
 and entangling Fuittout's legs with his 
 chain. In this manner the company, 
 though still further increased by some 
 bumpkins who came across liekls and 
 liedges to look on open-mouthed, arrived 
 in front of Sir Jolin Roundtree's mansion. 
 That worthy knight, who was sitting at 
 an open window witli my Lsuly his wife, 
 cried out, as he caugiit sight of the
 
 76 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 cavalier, "Why, as I live, here's my mad 
 cousin Sir E-alph Spicer ! But what a strange 
 attendance he hath ! What, in the devil's 
 name, hath he been about now ? S'lif e, 
 he hath got a foreign talking-bird in his 
 hand, and that outlandish varlet of his, 
 that seemeth in a queer pickle, is dancing 
 with a baboon." 
 
 Although Sir John laughed, and mar- 
 velled much, he was not altogether pleased 
 with this visit, his cousin Sir Ralph's visits 
 having cost him rather dear before now. 
 But Sir John was a thorough-bred cavalier 
 (of the good sort) ; he believed that any 
 man who stood in the near relation of a 
 full cousin had a claim upon his purse, and 
 he looked upon hospitality as the most 
 sacred of duties. He was soon in the hall, 
 and at the door, welcoming his kinsman. 
 After hugging and embracing him in the 
 Whitehall or French fashion, Sir Ralph 
 took his cousin aside, explained his case, 
 and borrowed the little money he immedi- 
 ately wanted, intending to get rather a 
 larger sum out of that purse before he 
 again quitted Kent. Old Roundtree 
 reprehended Jerry for failing in respect 
 and reverence to a man of quality, but he 
 then gave the crown for drinking-money 
 which Sir Ralph refused to do, and, 
 telling the company all to go round to 
 the butler at the back of the house, and 
 get a cup of ale a-piece, he dismissed
 
 A VOYAGE TO EBITH. 77 
 
 them, and conducted his cousin into the 
 mansion. 
 
 Faittout was sent to wash and clean the 
 monkey, and make him fit to be presented 
 to Lady Eoundtree, and to dry himself, 
 and clean himself, and smarten himself as 
 best he could; and his master, having 
 borrowed a clean ruff and laced bands from 
 his cousin (for Sir Ralph had encumbered 
 himself with no luggage, and had brought 
 nothing with him except the clothes on his 
 back, and the ape and parrot), withdrew 
 to an airy and most clean and comfortable 
 bed-chamber to trim himself. While thus 
 engaged Sir Ralph forgot all his vexations. 
 " Well," said lie to himself, " here I am, 
 after all, safe in Kent, and well lodged, 
 and with the prospect of good diet. Yes, 
 last night T was at the Devil tavern, drink- 
 ing with Tom Killigrew — this morning I 
 was at Whiteliall — and now here am I at 
 Erith. So wags the world. But your true 
 cavaliers are at home wliorever they go. 
 Wliat says old Jack Denham ? — 
 
 'At P;iri«. at Rome, 
 At tln' Haj^uo, tliey're at home ; 
 The good fellow \h nowhere a Btranger.' 
 
 So now for that credulous old dame my 
 Lady Roundtree, and that shy damsel 
 Mistress Marion : of one or the other, or of 
 both, something may be made."
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 The Old Cavaliee. 
 
 Immense were the changes or transfers of 
 property occasioned by the great civil war, 
 and mournful was the fate of many of the 
 honestest partisans of Charles I. Of late 
 years the manor of Erith had repeatedly 
 changed hands. Sir William Compton, the 
 last noble owner, ^' being a most loyal and 
 valiant gentleman," according to the 
 King's party, and " an incurable malig- 
 nant," according to the Commonwealth 
 party, had engaged on the Royal side when 
 only in the eighteenth year of his age, and 
 he had been governor of Banbury Castle, 
 and had fought in many battles and sieges 
 for King Charles ; but he had found him- 
 self under the necessity of selling the 
 manor of Erith, since the Restoration, to 
 a Mr. Ludwig, a trader of London, who 
 had quickly resold it to one Nicholas Van- 
 nacker, a City merchant of Dutch extrac- 
 tion, who had shut up the old manor-house, 
 which stood at the entrance of the village, 
 coming from Crayford, and which had 
 been the seat of hospitality in the time of 
 the ancient Comptons. Except his house 
 and grounds. Sir John Roundtree — de-
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 79 
 
 scended from a family which had held 
 considerable estates here as far back as 
 the days of the Plantagenets — had not 
 much land within the parish, his chief 
 estate lying at a short distance. 
 
 A pleasant and spacious old house, and 
 right pleasantl}' situated, was that of our 
 worthy old Kentish knight. It had been 
 built, in the early part of the reign of 
 EHzabeth, by his great-grandfather. It 
 had fine bay-windows, and some massive 
 and most picturesque stacks of chimneys, 
 which towered above the gable-ends of the 
 roof. It stood on a green, swelling knoll. 
 In front flowed the broad, majestic Thames ; 
 behind were finely-wooded hills and parks. 
 There was a garden near the house, laid 
 out according to the plan of the great 
 Lord Bacon. Everything in and about 
 the place was upon some old plan, and 
 strictly in accordance vrith the building ; 
 there was nothing modish, or new-fash- 
 ioned — nothing b^'tokcning transition or 
 change — Ijut all things were solid, sober, 
 and antiquated, and proper to carry the 
 mind back to a former age. The charac- 
 ter of Sir John Roundtree harmonised 
 with the place, and may have been influ- 
 enced by it. H(! was a hale man, and 
 bom consideraljly witliiii the seventeenth 
 century; but liis manners and thoughts 
 were all of tlio pn-cc'ling century, anfl he 
 might have been taken for an honest
 
 80 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 country knight of the time of the Maiden 
 Queen. Like Dryden's Kentish squire, he 
 was stout, and plain in speech iukI in be- 
 haviour ; loved none of the fine town tricks 
 of breeding, but stood up for the fine old 
 EHzabeth-way in all things. He was a 
 Royalist and a High Churchman, as his 
 father and grandfather had been before 
 him ; and he never could conceive how a 
 Roundtree, or any true-bred honest Eng- 
 lish gentleman, could be anything else. 
 What had contributed not a little 
 to the steadiness of his principles 
 was the fact that he had all tkrough 
 life shut his ears and eyes to any- 
 thing that made against them. It was 
 long, very long ere he could believe that 
 the Cavaliers could ever be in the wrong, 
 or the Roundheads ever in the right. Yet 
 in the hour of success and prosperity his 
 zeal was tempered by a kindly heart and a 
 rough mag-nanimity ; and whether in good 
 or evil fortiuie, whether triumphant with 
 his party or cast down with it, no man 
 could well be more disinterested and single- 
 minded. It is true the kingly office was in 
 his eye a holy thing, but his passionate love 
 for the King and the Chiu*ch was coupled 
 with the inward and never-doubting belief 
 that there was no hapjDiness for the people 
 of England without them ; and he never 
 looked to the obtaining of any personal 
 advantage from them, or by them. In
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 81 
 
 fact, contented and liappj at liome, he had 
 rarely been to the great city, though living' 
 so near to it, and he had never once shown 
 himself at Court mitil Charles I. was a 
 fugitive from London, and a part of his 
 subjects were in arms against him. Then 
 Sir John put on the u'on jacket which his 
 grandfather had worn in 1588, when Queen 
 Elizabeth was menaced by the Spanish 
 Armada, and hastened away to join the 
 King at Oxford, to offer him his money 
 and his services, and the services of his 
 only son, a handsome youth, and the joy 
 and pride of his heart, who very soon 
 perished in battle. The death of her son, 
 and her anxieties for her absent husband, 
 brought his first mfe to the grave ; his 
 estate was seized by the Parliament, and 
 he was reduced oftentimes to feel the want 
 of tliat crust of bread and cup of ale which 
 he had never had the heart to refuse to 
 any man. But not for this did he murmur 
 or turn his back on a losing and desiderate 
 cause : he fought gallantly all through the 
 long, unhappy war, and never came in or 
 sulmiittod until the cause was utterly lost, 
 and the King brought to the block. Until 
 Cromwf'U securo«l posscjssion of a more 
 than kingly power. Sir John was left in a 
 very reduc(Ml and precarious state, being 
 repeatedly thro%vn into prison as a malcon- 
 tent and rebel to Parliament. But when 
 the great-minded usurper put a drag to 
 
 6
 
 82 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 the wheels of revolution and began to re- 
 organise the State, Sir John was allowed to 
 compound for his estate, and the terms 
 of his composition were made compara- 
 tively light, through the mediation of an 
 old neighbour, who had taken the opposite 
 side in politics, and who stood high in the 
 favour of the Protector. But for Captain 
 Hemingford the paternal acres at Erith 
 and Bexley might have been sadly clipped 
 by the commissioners. Yet, at the time 
 he rendered this essential service to his old 
 playmate and once dear friend. Sir John 
 Roundtree had not seen him for a long 
 while, and would scarcely have spoken to 
 him if they had chanced to meet. Before 
 the disputes between King and Parliament 
 came to a head they had had many disputes 
 — if we can give the name of disputation 
 to the warm conversation of two men, both 
 equally determined to adhere to their own 
 previously formed opinions, and each deter- 
 mined not to listen to the other. But after 
 recovering possession of his estate upon 
 such easy terms of composition, and after 
 knowing — not from Hemingford, who did 
 all he could to conceal the service he had 
 rendered to his proud old neighbour, but 
 from Cromwell's commissioners and from 
 other sources — that he was indebted to the 
 captain, he again sought him out, and gave 
 him, if not his entire friendship, a great 
 deal of gratitude and some of his old
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 83 
 
 kindlmess. " Dick Hemingford," Sir John 
 would say, " has been corrupted by the 
 times and evil associates, and has been 
 turned into a Eoundhead ; but he was born 
 a gentleman, and he cannot help it." Of 
 his own ancient lineage Sir John was very 
 proud. Few sights were more grateful in 
 his eyes than that of the dark old grave-stone 
 at the entrance into the south aisle of Erith 
 church, with the brass plate upon it, bear- 
 ing this inscription in Gothic and scarcely 
 legible characters — 
 
 " Ellin atte Coke gist icy 
 dieu de sa alme mercy." 
 
 Some of the lands he held came to him 
 through this Ellin atte Coke, wife to 
 Peter atte Coke, otherwise called Peter de 
 Wellinsburg, who was enfeoffed of lands 
 at Erith in the time of King Edward III. 
 *' I should like to know," Sir John had 
 often been heard to say, "whether this 
 Vannackor — thi.s Dutch lord of a Kentish 
 manor — had a grandmother that wanted 
 God's mercy in the fourteenth century." 
 During the Prot<!ctorat^' — when Hciiiiiig- 
 ford's jjai-ty was everythuig, and Kcjuud- 
 tree's nothing — they at times renewed 
 their disputations, tin; captain endeavour- 
 ing to convert tlif knight, and th(! knight 
 endeavouring, just as earnestly, and quite 
 as fearlessly, to convert the Common- 
 wealth ca2)tain. Hemingford would at
 
 84 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 times express his astonishment at Sir 
 John's obstinacy in not allowing a single 
 political virtue to Mr. Hampden ; and Sir 
 John, being the hotter tempered man of 
 the two, would occasionally lose all 
 patience with Hemingford for his denying 
 the high qualities of Lord Falkland. 
 They lived near to each other, the house 
 of Hemingford being barely a mile from 
 Romidtree's mansion. They interchanged 
 visits, but perhaps (albeit they agreed 
 after a time to exclude politics and 
 polemics from their conversation) it was 
 fortunate for their restored or reviving 
 friendship that the captain was a good 
 deal at sea. 
 
 When Oliver died, when Eichard Crom- 
 well quietly withdrew, and when Charles II. 
 was recalled by General Monk, and hailed 
 on his return by the great majority of the 
 English people with transports of joy, 
 Hemingford — who had bravely fought for 
 the Commonwealth, or for his country, 
 under the great Blake — retired from the 
 service, and was thought by some men 
 (though assuredly not by himself) to 
 stand in need of a friend at Court. Sir 
 John Roundtree waited twice upon the 
 King : the fii'st time was to welcome him 
 on his return, when he rode with a great 
 company of loyal Kentish gentlemen to 
 meet his Majesty at Canterbury, and when 
 he saw the royal face, and kissed the royal
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 85 
 
 hand, and found a most flattering- recep- 
 tion ; the second time was when lie went 
 up to Whitehall, to repay the debt of 
 gratitude he owed bj' sajdng a good word 
 for Heuiingford. This second time he 
 had some difficulty in getting access to 
 the King, and when he did get it his 
 Majesty seemed not to know him, and to 
 be very eager to cut the audience short. 
 The worthy Kentish knight, though not 
 the quickest of men, and not at all given 
 to inquiry or research of any kind, soon 
 foimd out the reason. The King was 
 constantly beset by the Cavalier party, 
 who looked to his return as the j)ledge and 
 assiirance of wealth and honour to each 
 and all of them ; they tired his never very 
 patient ear with their tales of past suffer- 
 ings, and of the sacrifices they had made 
 for his father or for himself ; and those 
 who had done the least, and suffered the 
 least, appeared t(j expect the highest 
 rewards from royal gratitude. Sir John 
 Roundtree immediately took boat, re- 
 turned to Eritli, and never went near the 
 court again, liut, through a friend of a 
 more courtly clianicter, he had a letter 
 presented to Charles, in which he ex- 
 pressed his mixed anger and sliame, and 
 pleaded for his neighbour Hemingford 
 better than he could have done Ijy word of 
 mouth, or in ii less excited state of feeling. 
 In this letter he never once made allusion
 
 86 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 to his numerous sufferings and sacrifices 
 for the royal cause ; he did not remind the 
 King that his only son, and his only child, 
 had perished in his prime of youth ; nor 
 did he tell Charles how often since his 
 father's execution he had complied with 
 the request of his circular letters for loans 
 of money — thereby not merely pinching 
 himself, but also exposing himself to con- 
 fiscation and imprisonment. He could 
 have sent the spendthrift Sovereign more 
 than a dozen of his autograph letters, 
 written during his exile, and rmming in 
 the ordinary style — " I have had so good 
 testimony of your affection to the King, 
 my dear father of blessed memory, that I 
 desire you on this present occasion to lend 
 me two hundred pounds, whereof I promise 
 you, on my royal word, very faithful 
 rej)ayment." 
 
 But while others, who had kept larger 
 estates, and who had not contributed half 
 so much to the wants of the royal 
 wanderer, and who had not given it with a 
 tithe of his goodwill, preserved all these 
 things as vouchers, and frequently exhibited 
 them to the restored King, to his Ministers 
 and others — and when they found, after a 
 long and pertinacious trial, that repayment 
 was not to be procured, exhibited them 
 more publicly as proofs of the royal 
 ingratitude and dishonesty — Sir John 
 ErOundtree tied all his letters together and
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 87 
 
 threw them into the fire, not willing to 
 keep any record of the debasement and 
 wretchedness of royalty, and not wishing- 
 for any repayment from a prince who had 
 so many claims to satisfy. In his own 
 epistle to the King he merely said that in 
 the troublous times which were past he had 
 done his bounden duty and no more ; that 
 every English gentleman, in proportion to 
 his means, ought to have done as much ; 
 that his conscience would not have let him 
 know peace by day or rest by night if he 
 had done less ; and that he had never 
 looked for repayment or reward of any 
 Mnd, either in money, lands, or honours. 
 It grieved him, he said, and made him 
 blush to think tliat the motive of his visit 
 to Whitehall should be so cruelly misrepre- 
 sented to his Majesty, or so sadly mistaken 
 by him. The onl}-^ favour he had had to 
 ask was in behalf of an old friend. Captain 
 Richard Hemingford, wlio had saved him 
 from beggary in the usurper's time ; and 
 he ha<l been emboldened to ask this from 
 his conviction that it would benefit his 
 Majesty's Government to reconcile an 
 ofl&cer of so much distinction, and who 
 had so great an influence over the old 
 ofl&cers and sailors of the Navy. Thought- 
 less, and absorbed by the pursuit of 
 pleasure as lie was, Charles was murh 
 struck with the letter of the honest Kent- 
 ish knight, which was so very dilfercnt
 
 88 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 from those he was constantly receiving. 
 The King even sat down to answer the 
 epistle with his own hand ; but one of his 
 courtiers came in to tell him that Lady 
 Castleniaine, in a bewitching new dress, 
 was waiting for him in the park, and he 
 threw aside the letter, and never thought 
 of finishing it. Captain Hemingford, how- 
 ever, so far from being disturbed by the 
 Restoration Government, was invited to 
 continue in his Majesty's service; but, 
 seeing too well how shamefully the whole 
 Navy was now managed, the veteran 
 declined the invitation. Hemingford did 
 not sui'vive quite two years. He left 
 behind him the snug estate which he had 
 inherited from his father, and an only 
 child, a daughter, then between twelve and 
 thirteen years of age. Hemingford was no 
 truckler or time-server, and never feared 
 for himself ; but when the hand of death 
 was upon him he greatly feared for the 
 future fate of his young daughter, whose 
 property and beauty must, in those grasp- 
 ing and dissolute days, greatly increase 
 her peril. In the belief that his old friend 
 Sir John would be both willing and able to 
 perform the trust better than any friend of 
 his own fallen and now obnoxious party, and 
 that, notwithstanding their differences of 
 opinion, there lived not a more honour- 
 able, high-minded, and kind-hearted man 
 than his neighbour, who, moreover, had
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 89 
 
 known his child from her birth^ he entreated 
 Roundtree to be her guardian, and his 
 executor, and when Sir John accepted the 
 trust, and said, in his plain downrig-ht way, 
 that Marion should be as his daughter, the 
 veteran sailor said he should die easy ; and 
 so he did. 
 
 After sixteen years of widowhood. Sir 
 John Roundtree married a second wife ; 
 but this marriage was only contracted 
 in order that Marion Hemingford might 
 be the better attended to. The new Lady 
 Roundtree came of a good old Kentish 
 stock, of the right hue in politics. SLe 
 had been a -svidow. She was younger than 
 Sir John, though not quite so young as she 
 pretended to be. The world, which is ever 
 critical about second marriages, laughed a 
 little at our knight on the first blush of the 
 business, and afterwards bestowed some 
 commiseration upon liim ; for the second 
 Lady Roundtree was not so amiable a per- 
 son or so popular in the neighbourhood as 
 the first, and the notion got abroad that 
 the doughty old soldier was not only vexed 
 and put out of his way by her ladyship's 
 whims and vanitios, but was oven hen- 
 pecked by her. Her ladysliip, however, 
 was far from being so bad as people chose 
 to think ; and altlu)ngli lie was often vexed 
 by her, Sir .Tohn was tlie last man in Kent 
 to bear h('n2>e('king, or to forego th(; <'xer- 
 cise of his supremacy in any important
 
 90 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 concern. It is true that her ladyship had 
 a large share of vanity, frivolity, and con- 
 ceit ; that she was always fancying herself 
 a beauty, and fifteen years younger than 
 she really was ; and that since the King's 
 retmni she was constantly pestering her 
 lord to have a lodging in London, which 
 he detested, and to make a figure at Court, 
 which he had resolved never to visit again. 
 
 " For coiu-ts are full of flattery, 
 As hath too oft been tried ; 
 The city full of wantonness, 
 And both are full of pride." 
 
 But then she kept his house in very 
 good order, was, on the whole, kind and 
 affectionate to his young ward (but for 
 whom she might have remained a widow 
 still, for all that Sir John would ever have 
 said to the contrary), and was the means 
 of bringing such female society to the 
 house as Marion Hemingford needed, and 
 of taking her out on visits to the few 
 neighbouring gentry. 
 
 Although Lady Eoundtree would often 
 affect to treat her as a mere child, Marion 
 was at this time between seventeen and 
 eighteen years of age. The pleasant 
 county of Kent, which had given birth to 
 that fairest of maids, who was afterwards 
 wife to that conqueror of France, Edward 
 the Black Prince, was famed in all times 
 for its fair maids, but it did not at this
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 91 
 
 time or in any other contain a fairer girl 
 than Marion, or one more gentle and right- 
 hearted. In the little world in which she 
 moved — and a little world indeed it was, 
 and she had never been beyond it or had 
 known any other — she was universally 
 beloved, and almost always called "the 
 Fair Maid of Kent." 
 
 For some two years past the most 
 copious source of uneasiness to good Sir 
 John was the question which my lady was 
 continually urging of how they should 
 dispose of the young heiress in marriage. 
 Her ladyship's notions ran very high. 
 With such an estate as Marion possessed, 
 and witli the expectations she had (the 
 knight had made no secret of his intention 
 to leave her all his property that he could 
 bequoatli), she might mate with a great 
 lord and wear a coronet and shine at 
 Court. [Here the knight invariably said, 
 "The Lord forbid!"] The child was 
 rather ])retty — licr complexion was cer- 
 tainly clear and good — and she would lose 
 her rusticity in London. It was imluckily 
 true that her father had been a Roundhead ; 
 but still thore was no denying that he 
 came of an aiificnt and honourable family 
 — of as old a family as any in Kent or the 
 three adjoining counties. Ridi, ])retty, 
 well bom, why shouldn't the chit niai-i-y tho 
 son of a marquis — nay, the son and heir 
 apparent of a duke ? Thus reasoned the
 
 92 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 second Lady Roundtree. But there was 
 one strong* reason why Marion Heming- 
 f ord should not make any marriage of the 
 kind ; she was in love with a plain com- 
 moner; she had plighted her troth, and 
 was the least likely person in the world to 
 change. 
 
 Walter Wynton was the son of another 
 of the Commonwealth sea captains, long a 
 shipmate at sea, and a near neighbour 
 on shore, of Marion's father. Captain 
 Wynton, whose politics were of a sterner 
 kind than those of his friend, and who had 
 not submitted quite so tranquilly to the 
 inevitable revolution which terminated the 
 Commonwealth, was m trouble and under 
 sharp persecution at the time when 
 Hemingford was dymg. But for the 
 circumstances Hemingford might possibly 
 have balanced between Wynton and 
 Romidtree in his choice of a guardian for 
 his infant child, notwithstanding his con- 
 victions that the laws were weak, and that 
 the guardianship and protection of a gentle- 
 man belonging to the triumphant party in 
 the State would be more efficacious and 
 powerful than those of a Republican officer 
 who had resolutely adhered to the fallen 
 party. Captain Wynton, after much 
 suffering, was allowed to return to his 
 home, and to live quietly with Walter his 
 only son ; but persecution could not make 
 a convert of him, nor could the shameless
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 93 
 
 exhibitions made by the Court turn his 
 Republicaiiism into loyalty; he remained a 
 moody, discontented man, and of late 
 the humiliation of his country and the 
 disgraces put upon his cherished profes- 
 sion had well-ni;^"h driven him to the brink 
 of madness. Oh! how he sighed for the 
 past rule of the Protector, and for the 
 glorious days of Blake ! Living, as he 
 did, near the river, and not far from Dept- 
 ford Yard (nor very far from Sheerness 
 and Chatham), he could not remain 
 ignorant of the shameful events that 
 were happening; his house was fre- 
 quented by many old Commonwealth 
 ofticers, and was not unfrequently beset 
 by some of the starving sailors, who had 
 served luider his honour in the good days, 
 and who knew that his honoiu- would feel 
 for their woes, and, as far as he could, 
 relieve them. Wynton was thus kept in a 
 state of constant excitement and irrita- 
 tion, the effects of which could not but be 
 felt by his son. 
 
 "Walter Wynton was a serious, medita- 
 tive, but very liandsome young man, and 
 one that could ho lively and gay enough 
 upon occasion. He was now in his twenty- 
 fifth year. From his twelfth year tiU his 
 eightoonth, wlicii the Restoration deprived 
 his father of liis commission, Ik; liad br>(Mi 
 in tlio Navy, and the companion of his 
 father in every voyage he made. It was
 
 94 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 predicted of him hy all the tars that knew 
 him — and he was known at one time to 
 most of the men in the fleet — ^that Master 
 Walter, who had taken to the service 
 betimes, would make a first-rate officer, 
 and be an admiral before he was thirty. 
 The overcasting of this brig'ht vision was 
 not an easy thing to bear. Walter, like 
 his father, dearly loved his profession; 
 and his country, and the glory of his 
 country's flag at sea, he loved with all his 
 heart and with all his soul. 
 
 So long as Captain Hemingford lived 
 there was the closest intimacy between the 
 two families, and Master Walter was the 
 first friend of little Marion's childhood. 
 Sir John Roundtree would hardly share in 
 this intimacy, for he looked upon Wynton 
 as a sour and incurable Roundhead, and 
 even as a fanatic in Eepublicanism ; but, 
 spite of himself, he admired and liked the 
 lad Walter, whom he frequently met ; and 
 after Hemingford's death, when he took 
 his daughter home to his ovm. house, he 
 could not do less than invite her neighbour 
 and friend Master Walter to come and see 
 her from time to time. The young man 
 came very frequently, and as he became 
 more and more known to his host he was 
 liked the better by him ; and after a year 
 or so had passed it would have been diffi- 
 cult to say whether Sir John or Marion 
 was the more anxious for his coming.
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 95 
 
 Walter was a keen sportsman, and an 
 adept in all varieties of rural sports, as 
 was Sir John, and as all Sir John's fore- 
 fathers, of whom there was any record or 
 tradition, had been. He went hunting 
 and fowling with Sir John in the autumn 
 and winter seasons ; and in the spring and 
 summer they fished together in the 
 Thames, or in those pretty tributary 
 streams the Cray and the Darent. Walter 
 never refused his company at a race or at 
 a match of coui-sing; and when people 
 were merry at a village fair or wake, at a 
 sheep-shearmg or harvest-home, if he did 
 not dance much liimseK, he loved to look 
 upon their dancing. He was also quietly 
 facetious at times. The knight would 
 often say, " This young fellow may be a 
 Eoundhead and a shade or two more 
 serious than befits one of his age and con- 
 dition ; but devil a bit of the Puritan lias 
 he in him." Nay, as the times grew worse, 
 or as the vices of the restored Government 
 became more bnizen and were more talked 
 of, Sir John coukl even listen patiently to 
 Walter's iiinniuirings against the pro- 
 fligacy of llic Court, and ('liter fully into 
 his indignant feelings when he spoke 
 of the Navy and of the dishonoured flag 
 of England, invjinably contriving, how- 
 ever, to end the conversation with saying 
 a good word for the King, throwing the 
 blame on his evil advisers and dishonest
 
 96 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Ministers, and hoping that matters would 
 mend. 
 
 With my ladj Walter was never a 
 favourite, for her ladyship loved flattery 
 in larg-e doses, and he could never flatter 
 at all. She thought him a very unlikely 
 and unapt person to win the heart of any 
 woman ; not that she could deny that he 
 had a fine manly figure and handsome 
 countenance, but she said he always looked 
 starch and severe, and had none of the 
 little talk which ladies love to listen to. 
 As for the sake of her own juvenility she 
 had taught herself really to believe that 
 Marion had scarcely grown a year older 
 since her marriage with Sir John, but still 
 continued a child, she was astonished, 
 even to the stopping of her breath, when 
 the knight one day not long ago, being 
 wearied with her ambitious schemes for 
 his ward and her talk about coronets and 
 Court, told her rather pettishly that she 
 might put all such nonsense out of her 
 head, as he believed that Marion had 
 already made up her mind on that par- 
 ticular, and that Walter Wynton would be 
 Marion's husband as surely as he. Sir 
 John, had the honour of calling her lady- 
 ship his wife. As soon as the dame 
 recovered her breath and speech she said 
 that this was wonderful news indeed, and 
 rather too wonderful to be true ; that it 
 was impossible the child could so much as
 
 THE OLD CATALIEE. 97 
 
 have given such matters a thought ; "but 
 then she said that if she had it was for- 
 ward and shameful in her, and that such 
 notions ouglit to be di-iven out of her head, 
 as in all worshipful families loves and 
 matches and matrimony were managed by 
 the parents or guardians of the young 
 ladies. '^ Doubtless," replied Sir John, 
 "this hath been the general i-ule, but 
 there are exceptions — there will be excep- 
 tions — there have been exceptions — my 
 first wife was an exception, seeing that 
 she would marry me, though only the son 
 of a plain Kentish knight, when her 
 mother, and her maiden aunt, and the 
 whole family conclave had settled that she 
 was to marry a much greater personage." 
 
 " But, dear Sir John," said her lady- 
 ship, " you do not approve of this inde- 
 pendence and indiscipline in vounsr 
 girls?" ^ "^ 
 
 " I approved of it very much once,'''' 
 replied the knight, " and she who exer- 
 cised her own free will never gave me 
 cause to repent that she had exercised it 
 in my favour," 
 
 " But consider, dear Sir John, this 
 Walter Wynton is a Roundhead, and the 
 son of a man notoriously disaffected to 
 our most gracious Sovereign — a man who, 
 apart from that rank in the service which 
 he has forfeited, would only take rank 
 with a second or third rate Kentish squire. 
 
 7
 
 98 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Surely you can never seriously think of 
 givdng the child, with her competent 
 estate and good expectations, to a Round- 
 head! It is against your known prin- 
 ciples. Sir John." 
 
 The knight fidgeted and looked rather 
 confused ; the lady followed up her attack 
 by representing that Captain Wynton was 
 one of the most sullen and desperate of 
 the sui'viving Republican faction; that he 
 was a near relation to one of the regicides, 
 and had been the bosom friend of several 
 of those king-killers ; that he was a man 
 of that temper that was sure to involve 
 himself in some new trouble, and that his 
 son, who took so little care to conceal his 
 sentiments, would be involved in his 
 father's ruin. Her ladyship scarcely 
 stopped until she brought both father and 
 son to the scaffold, and put poor Marion in 
 widow's weeds. 
 
 " Hark ye, madam," said Sir John, " my 
 principles are unchanged and unchange- 
 able. I love not Roundheads, albeit but 
 for one of that classis of men I should not 
 be where I now am. But I like this manly, 
 right-English youth, and think, nay, feel 
 sure, his principles may be changed by 
 time and experience. If I could have 
 chosen perhaps I would have ordered 
 things otherwise, and have had the girl 
 married to some man of undoubted 
 loyalty, some honest and virtuous cavalier,
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 99 
 
 if anj such be left in the world in these 
 corrupted times. But there again I have 
 mj scruples, for I promised to my old 
 friend and benefactor, on his death-bed, 
 that I would act by Marion as a father ; 
 and I am certain that if Hemingford were 
 living Walter Wynton is on every account 
 the very man to whom he would give his 
 daughter and estate. But then again it 
 behoves me to look well to the safety and 
 happiness of my ward and the secui'ity of 
 her estate. There is an ugly chance, in- 
 deed, that the mutinies of oiu' sailors, the 
 general discontent of the people, the wicked- 
 ness of those who mislead his Majesty, 
 may encourage the Roundheads to under- 
 take some high-fljdng enterprise ; and in 
 that case metliinks Captain Wynton would 
 be very likely, very likely, indeed, to be in 
 the head of the insm-rection. And will 
 Walter keep aloof when his father is 
 engaged ? Not he ! not he ! . . . Then 
 will Walter Wynton be by the fact in the 
 position of uiy personal enemy, for come 
 what may the King must be supported ; 
 and then will follow troubles and woes, 
 ruin to Walter . . . No ! by the duty I 
 owe to Hemingford, by the love I bear his 
 child, who has become as dear to me as if 
 she were my daugliter, T will not give my 
 consent to this union until the country be 
 more settled, or until I see some notable 
 change in the jjolitics of Wynton Lodge ! "
 
 100 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 Lady Roundtree exjjressed herself well 
 pleased witli this determination. 
 
 "But," continued Sir John, "your lady- 
 ship will please bear in mind that I will 
 have no coercion, and much less any trick 
 or manoeuvre practised upon my ward. 
 Were I to cause her to shed a tear, by my 
 soul I should expect to see her father's 
 ghost appear to upbraid me ! Your lady- 
 ship knows the extent of my obligations 
 to Hemingford. Vex not the dear child 
 by showing discourtesy to Walter, or by 
 talking about coronets and baubles which 
 Marion will never wear nor wish to wear." 
 
 The good knight was much excited. 
 His lady declared that she had never vexed 
 the child's ear with any such talk (which 
 was not quite true), and that she ever had 
 and ever would set her face against coercion 
 and tricks and manoeuvres (which was still 
 less true). 
 
 The last time that Sir Ealph Spicer had 
 been down at Erith to visit his cousin Sir 
 John, whom he had not seen for many a 
 year, that needy courtier, chiefly through 
 the gossip and confidential communications 
 of my Lady Roundtree, had made himself 
 well acquainted with Marion's history and 
 with the rent-roll of her estate; and he 
 was not without his hopes of dazzling the 
 young rustic converting Marion Hemiiig- 
 ford into my Lady Spicer, and revelling" 
 on the produce of her good, broad
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 101 
 
 Kentish acres. The egregious folly and 
 vanity of Lady Eomidtree had given him 
 encouragement and some opportunity. 
 Her ladyship had been charmed almost 
 out of her senses by his gallantry and 
 Court impudence, by the delicious White- 
 hall news he gave her, and by the pleasant 
 stories he told about Lady Castlemaine, 
 the fair Mistress Stuart, and other mis- 
 tresses or favourites of the King ; about 
 this lord's intrigue and that lord's duel, 
 and other edifying things of the same 
 courtly description. What Walter Wynton 
 could not do at all Sir Ralph Spicer could 
 do in the greatest perfection ; he had given 
 her ladyship doses of flattery large enough 
 to choke ten ordinary ladies, and seeing 
 that she took tlieni all, and gloated upon 
 them, he had absolutely proceeded to the 
 length of making love to her ladyship. 
 
 What! make love to his cousin's wife? 
 Ay, and Sir Ralph was a sj^ark that would 
 have had no scruple to make love to the 
 wife of his own brother ! And there were 
 many Sir Ralplis in the Court of Charles 
 the Second. Such were the promising 
 vices which our exiled King and cavaliers 
 had imported from France, with French 
 dresses and fashions, French plays, French 
 poetry, French everything ! 
 
 But in this case Sir Ralph's love-making 
 was but sham love, adopted partly as a 
 capriccio, ;ind partly, as he thought, to
 
 102 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 serve a pui'pose profitable to himself. Her 
 ladyship, in the warmth of her confidence, 
 had lamented the obstinacy of Sir John 
 in leading a recluse life in Kent, and had 
 opened to him her grand plan of marrying 
 in due course of time the child Marion to 
 some illustrious nobleman. Living out of 
 the world as she was constrained to do, she 
 had small opportunity for forwarding her 
 project; a live lord scarcely passed through 
 Erith once in half a dozen years, except it 
 was my Lord Say and Sele, and he had got 
 a wife already, and was little better than 
 a Roundhead and Puritan ; but Sir Ralph 
 Spicer, the gay and gallant Sir Ralph (her 
 ladyship could give compliments as well as 
 take them), a courtier who knew every 
 great lord and lady at Court, a friend of 
 the King, a friend of his Grace of Buck- 
 ingham, of George Etherege and Sir 
 Charles Sedley, a man who played at 
 Orestes and Pylades with the gay Lord 
 Buckhurst, and who was familiar with 
 every other lord and courtier, must have 
 abundance of opportunities of promoting 
 the plan upon which her ladyship had set 
 her heart. And Sir Ralph had given her 
 ladyship his word that he would move in 
 this behalf, and find a lord for the little 
 girl. After this satisfactory pledge to the 
 old lady, he had seized the very first 
 opportunity of declaring an outrageous 
 passion of love to the young one. Poor
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 103 
 
 Marion, who had never seen such a 
 specimen of humanity, thouglit he was 
 crazed; and crazed no doubt he was, 
 crazed then and always with vanity and 
 drink, by presumption and debauchery. 
 At first she met his hyperbolical expres- 
 sions with laughter, but when he grew 
 more stormy and impudent she tui*ned 
 away from him with silent scorn. A man 
 so confident was not to be checked or 
 himabled so easily. He had foimd another 
 meet opportunity of playing the part of 
 the amorous swain ; and then Marion had 
 
 & 
 
 reminded him of a fact which he had 
 altogether forgotten or disregarded — 
 that is, that he was old enough to be her 
 father ; and she had then told him, with 
 very unpleasant frankness, that it assorted 
 ill with his years to play such fantastic 
 tricks before a Kentish maiden in her 
 toons. After that last scene she had taken 
 good care to avoid him, and to secure her- 
 self from his impertinent intrusion ; and 
 she had scarcely spoken a word to him 
 during the rest of that visit. Sir Ralph 
 nevertheless had gone back to London 
 with the confident assurance that by and 
 through the very credulous and awkwardly 
 mano'uvriug Lndy Rouiultreo he might 
 turn Marion lleiiiinglord to good account, 
 either by marrying her himself, or by 
 acting as matrimonial broker for some- 
 body else. Her lad^-ship, at this time,
 
 104 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 had never once thought of the possibility 
 of an attachment existing between Walter 
 and her husband's ward. Sir John's ex- 
 planatory conversation had taken place 
 some weeks after the departure of his 
 cousin from Erith, a welcome departure 
 to Sir John, although it cost him a good 
 many gold pieces. Sir Ralph had promised 
 very faithfully to repay the money, but 
 Sir John had not been much disappointed 
 at never having got it. In London, and 
 in the courtly air of St. James's, our 
 cavalier had soon forgotten the fair maid 
 of Kent, his coquetry with Lady Round- 
 tree, and his promises to her; for other 
 game had started, of which the pursuit 
 seemed less difficult ; and it was not in the 
 nature of these gallants to be steady or 
 persevering in anything — no, not even in 
 mischief ! When, however, the Court had 
 come to discuss the question of the seizure 
 of Tom of the Woods, Sir Ralph's thoughts 
 had been carried back to Erith, and to the 
 pretty little projects he had conceived 
 while there. He had volunteered his ser- 
 vices to the King, who wished the arrest 
 to be made without noise, telling His 
 Majesty about his worshipful cousin Sir 
 John, who was a cavalier to the backbone, 
 and in the commission of the peace for 
 that part of Kent where the dangerous 
 prophet had so long been hiding. Years 
 before this His Majesty had forgotten
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 105 
 
 ever}'thing about Sir John Romidtree ; but 
 Sir Ralph's relationship with that worthy 
 magistrate might facilitate the great 
 enterprise in hand ; and His Majesty had 
 therefore intrusted the mission to our 
 precious rake, who had served him before 
 in a capacity far more dishonourable even 
 than that of a ininner or common thief- 
 taker. Sir Ralph had thought that this 
 present State business, if well managed by 
 him, might lead to some fixed office or 
 salary ; and some of the King's merry 
 counsellors had told him, as an encourage- 
 ment, that if he gagged and caged the 
 prophet he should have some immediate 
 reward. 
 
 Marion, keeping a secret from him for 
 the first time in her life, had not told 
 Walter Wynton anything about the ex- 
 travagant behaviour and impertinence of 
 her good old guardian's reprobate cousin ; 
 for she knew that Walter might attacfi 
 more iTiii)ortance to it than it merited, 
 tluit Walter would bo sure to be vexed and 
 irritated, and that Walter, though so 
 quiet and composed, had a fiery spirit 
 within him. Since that ujiph'asant visita- 
 tion the poor girl liad been somewhat 
 distressed by seeing, or fancying, that Sir 
 John Roundtree was not quite so cordial 
 with Walter Wynton as he had used to be. 
 She, liowever, kiu'W f )iat tlie mind of the 
 good old knight was disturbed by the
 
 106 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDV/AY. 
 
 aspect of public affaii's, and by the exceed- 
 ingly great difficulty he found in answer- 
 ing the angry arguments of some of his 
 neighbours^ and in excusing royalty ; for 
 politics, which had been in a great measure 
 excluded from this quiet corner of Kent, 
 now forced themselves upon the attention 
 of all men. Tor some time past there had 
 been no looking down from the green hills 
 upon the flowing river without seeing 
 some evidence of disaster and disgrace, of 
 interrupted commerce, of starvation and 
 mutiny. Erith was an exposed position ; 
 the storm was at its very doors. 
 
 Things were in this state when Sir 
 Ralph Spicer arrived at his cousin's 
 mansion in the manner which has been 
 described. Her ladyship gently reproached 
 him for his so long absence and neglect 
 in writing ; but he pleaded his busy avoca- 
 tions at Court, and made a triumphant peace 
 by whistling Faittout to bring in the ape 
 and the parrot. Lady Roundtree was en- 
 chanted with the monkey, and Marion was 
 not at all transported by the present of the 
 talking-bird. The parrot, however, was 
 left in the saloon, while the monkey was 
 sent down to the kitchen with Faittout. As 
 the cavalier made no secret of his hunger, as 
 it wanted some hours of supper time, and as 
 it was the rule of the house to lay meat 
 and drink before the stranger immediately 
 after his arrival, a good meal was served
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 107 
 
 up for Sii' Ealph. When he had eaten his 
 fill., and had, with the occasional assistance 
 of Sir John, finished two good bottles of 
 claret, and not until then, he put on his 
 business face, and told his host and cousin, 
 in the hearing of the ladies, that he had 
 come huiTiedly down into Kent upon a 
 State matter, a very important State matter 
 which nearly concerned the King's majesty, 
 who had himself sent him, and in which 
 he. Sir John might render good service to 
 his Majesty. 
 
 " I am ever ready to do that last," said 
 Sir John. " Tell me, cousin, what it is I 
 can do for the King ! " 
 
 Sir Ealph, looking still more important 
 and solemn, said, " Cousin, it is a matter 
 of high concernment, and must be handled 
 in secret. When State matters are to be 
 treated — when the salvation of the King's 
 crown is at issue — fjallantry must give way 
 to duty. Lady K(»uiidtree, and you. 
 Mistress Marion, will pardon me if I crave 
 Sir Jolin's ear in the library for one half- 
 lirmr." 
 
 The ladies suiihid and bowed an assent, 
 the elder lady, who was burning to know 
 what the Stutf matter should bo, greatly 
 praising Sir Ralph's discretion. Sir John 
 forthwith led his cousin to tli(; liljrary, a 
 fine old wainscoted room, with a few family 
 pictures in it, and shelves, and books, not 
 a volume among tliem being of less size
 
 108 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 tlian a folio, nor of later date than the 
 reign of James I. Marion, happy to be 
 released, walked out into the garden ; Lady 
 Roundtree would have run to the library 
 door to listen ; but Sir John, who really 
 expected some most important communica- 
 tion, cautiously turned the key of the door 
 of an outer room, and so her ladyship found 
 that she could hear nothing. Sir John being 
 seated on one oak chair, and Sir Ralph 
 being seated upon another directly opposite 
 to him, the conference opened. The 
 courtier made a great many flourishes, ran 
 into a lot of extraneous matter, and 
 kept from the main point considerably more 
 than half-an-houi' ; but the secret came out 
 at last, and great was the astonishment and 
 mortification of Sir John upon finding that 
 the great State business in which he 
 was to take a part was nothing more 
 than the seizure of a mad fanatic who told 
 fortunes, and uttered what were called 
 prophecies. He thought that the King 
 might have put some better service upon 
 a man of condition like himself, who had 
 fought for his royal father in half a score 
 of battles. He was irritated. 
 
 " Cousin," said he, " if half be true that 
 men do say, it is not the seizing of this 
 moon-struck hermit that will save the 
 State. But since it seems to be thought 
 otherwise at Whitehall, let Tom of the 
 Woods be seized in God's name. You have.
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. 109 
 
 of course, the secretary's warrant for his 
 arrest?" 
 
 " The devil a warrant have I," responded 
 Sir Ealph. "My commission was given 
 me all of a hurry, and between night and 
 morning in the matted gallery. Besides, 
 Goveniment wishes the thing to be done 
 quietly, and mayhap would not like to ap- 
 pear in it." 
 
 " Hem ! Such aj)pearance would not add 
 to its dignity," quoth Roundtree; "but 
 by what authority is the lunatic to be 
 seized?" 
 
 "By the authority of your own and 
 special warrant, cousin Sir John. I told 
 the King that you were in the commission 
 of the peace in these parts, and it was upon 
 my so saying that his Majesty was pleased 
 most graciously to say that you were the 
 truest and best cavalier in all Kent, and 
 that he could be sure of your doing the 
 business discreetly and quietly." 
 
 " His Majesty," quoth Sir John, bowing 
 reverentially as if the King wore present, 
 '*too much lionour.s nic by his rcuHimbrance 
 of me ; but I shouM have thought that I 
 had long since been forgotten in those 
 quarters. But to Uw. iii:itt<'r, cousin Ralph ; 
 I must needs toll you that I relish it not. 
 This Tom of Bedlam, or Tom of the 
 Woods, whom I have various times seen, 
 and with whom T have had some talk, may 
 be a humI man, but he cannot be called a
 
 110 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 had man. I would not willingly be the 
 means of throwing him into prison. I 
 confess that neither in the old time, in the 
 days of the King's father, nor now, in the 
 days of his Majesty, did I ever see any 
 good done to the common weal by imprison- 
 ing and persecuting these poor deluded 
 enthusiasts, or by scourging them, or by 
 cutting oif their noses or ears. Cousin, 
 you know or ought to know, my high 
 Church principles, but there are times 
 when I cannot help thinking that if 
 Archbishop Laud had left Prynne's and 
 Bastwick's ears upon their heads he would 
 not have been brought to lay his own head 
 upon the block ! " 
 
 " But, Sir John, the King's majesty doth 
 say that it is all through the foresayings 
 of this Tom of the Woods that the fanatics 
 in London be so riotous and the sailors so 
 mutinous." 
 
 " 1 opine," quoth Round tree, " that those 
 unpaid tickets, and want and hunger, have 
 a good deal more to do with the mutinies 
 of the seamen than have the predictions of 
 Tom of the Woods. If the King's majesty 
 could but spend a little less among his 
 courtiers and his . . . ." 
 
 " Od's blood ! cousin John, his religious 
 Majesty hath not given me a doit, as I 
 have a soul to be saved ! and, what with 
 this whole niggardly and half -Puritanical 
 Parliament, which he prorogues and j)ro-
 
 THE OLD CAVALIER. Ill 
 
 rogues but is afear'd to dissolve, lest lie 
 should be forced to call another and get a 
 worse one, and what -with this thing and that 
 thing, and the miscalcidations attending 
 this beggarly war, there's no money in the 
 treasury to pa}' anybody. The sailors may 
 eat their tickets, and feed their wives and 
 children upon them as they can. . . . But 
 this is not to the point ; it is thought by 
 the Bang's majesty and by his Government 
 that the sailors would be quiet, or quieter 
 than they are, if this fanatical prophet 
 were laid by the heels, and deprived of his 
 gift of prophesying. The tickets cannot 
 be paid, but Tom can be imprisoned; 
 therefore let that be done which can be 
 done, and do you. Sir John, issue your 
 warrant forthwith, as you love the King." 
 " I must both issue it and execute it," 
 said Sir Jolin ; "for Tom of the Woods 
 stands well witli all the people hereabout, 
 and there is hardly a man, not excepting 
 even mine own constable, that would wil- 
 lingly take him into custf>dy. If Tom had 
 lived two or three centuries ago h(» would 
 have been conceited into a saint. In truth, 
 his life is very simple, harmless, and holy- 
 looking ! He does evil to no man, he 
 offfnds tlie laws in no particular. The 
 law hath no hohl on him ; Cousin Ral])!!, 
 I foresee mischief if we attempt to trouble 
 him. Yes, I tell you I foresee mischief 
 and even insurrection among these com-
 
 112 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 mons of Kent, for he hath singularly en- 
 deared himself unto them." 
 
 "^ It is not for a Roundtree to /ear," said 
 Sir Ealph, making- up his heroical face ; 
 '^it is not for you, my right worshipful 
 cousm, to hesitate when the King com- 
 mands. '' 
 
 " Cousin Ealph," said Sir John, ^' I fear 
 not for myself, and I will not disobey his 
 Majesty, albeit I should have liked some 
 warrant from him, and cannot Hke the 
 duty put upon me. You are sure, per- 
 fectly siire, that the King said the thing- 
 ought to be done by me ? " 
 
 Sir Ralph very solemnly vowed that it 
 was so. 
 
 '^Tlien," quoth Roundtree, ^'^ since it 
 must be, the sooner it is done the better. 
 I will draw out a warrant, and go myself 
 with Roger Hinde, mine own confidential 
 serving-man, and seo it executed; for 
 otherwise methinks it may chance not to 
 be executed at all. You will come with 
 me. Sir Ralph, into the woods ? — it is but 
 a short and pleasant walk hence to the place 
 which Tom makes his haunt." 
 
 " Sir John, the sun is sinking— it will 
 soon be night — to-morrow morning will be 
 time enough — I have had a wearying day 
 in the service of the State, and would fain 
 rest where I am, and divert the ladies. 
 Consider, too, the presence of a stranger 
 of quality like myseK might make a stir
 
 THE OLD CAVALIE2. 113 
 
 through the country side ! In every way 
 I am better where I am. But to-morrow 
 morning will be time enough." 
 
 As Sii' John looked into Sir Ralph's 
 face he could not avoid the thought that, 
 whatever the Roundtrees might be, there 
 was a Spicer in the world that looked at 
 this moment very like a shuffler and 
 coward ; but he said nothing, except that 
 he would go and get through the business 
 himself, without any loss of time. And 
 having drawn out a warrant, and smn- 
 moned Roger Hinde, the stout old knight 
 sallied forth from the mansion, leaving Sir 
 Ralph to divei-t the ladies, and to tell them 
 (if he should so choose) the real nature of 
 the mission he had come upon. 
 
 &
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Tom op the Woods. 
 
 Sir John Roundtree had not got many 
 yards from his own door ere he met the 
 Erith constable, Mike Woodenspoon, who 
 was going round the hill upon some 
 weighty concernments, for Mike, besides 
 being constable, was chief shaver and hair- 
 trimmer to the whole of the little district, 
 and held the ancient and important office 
 of " Ale-conner," or " kenner " or 
 *' taster " of ale ; and not a drop of that 
 liquor could be vended in any part of 
 the parish, either in the village or in the 
 upland, until he had tasted it and declared 
 it to be good and fit to be drunk by His 
 Majesty's lieges. In the performance of 
 these last-mentioned official duties, which 
 he was never known to neglect, he had 
 grown very corpulent and rather short- 
 winded, and was not altogether without 
 symptoms of gout in the toes ; but it was 
 thought that the size of his belly and the 
 slowness of his walk added very materially 
 to his constabulary dignity. As Mike was 
 quite alone, and as our good knight and 
 justice of the peace thought it would be 
 better to proceed with the legal regularity.
 
 TOM OP THE WOODS. 115 
 
 he said to the shaver, " Mike, follow me ; 
 I want you to serve a warrant." Mike 
 touched his cap, and said he would follow 
 his honour to the world's end ; but war- 
 rants being very rare things at Erith, and 
 Mike having a great deal of natnral and 
 professional curiosity, could not but ask 
 Sir John who it was that was to be taken 
 up. Wlien our knight named Tom of the 
 Woods the barber stood aghast, and for 
 some time could not speak at all. When 
 Mike found his tongue he said that he 
 would sooner dig up his old father out of 
 his grave than put Tom in prison ; that he 
 would sooner serve a warrant upon the 
 Archbishop of Canterbiu'y in the midst of 
 his clergy in Canterbury Cathedral, or 
 even upon the Lord Mayor of London 
 himself between his men in armour, and 
 ill the midst of his aldermen in their wigs 
 and formalities, thun serve one upon Tom 
 of the Woods in his wilderness ; for Tom 
 was an awful man and he feared him, and 
 Tom had a tail of followers wliich reached 
 all the way from Ibjllyliill Wood to Green- 
 wich Piirk, and a great <lt'al fartlier. Tlie 
 knight reminded the barber of his oatlis 
 of office, and hAd him that the warrant 
 must be served forthwith, and that he 
 liimself \v(;uld stand by. Mike, who had 
 been at one period of his life a candle- 
 snuffer at the Globe Tlieatre, took off his 
 cap with his left hand, laid his right hand
 
 116 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 upon his heart, and said that he must 
 needs keep his constable oath, and that if 
 the King's majesty and his worshipful 
 master Sir John called for his services in 
 this particular, he would go serve the 
 warrant even though he died for it. But 
 the barber's knees almost knocked together 
 as he said the words. 
 
 '^ A fiddlestick for your dying," quoth 
 Sir John ; " there will be no dying or kill- 
 ing in this matter ! Tom of the Woods 
 will demean himself gently in my pre- 
 sence, and where is the Kentish man in 
 these parts that will offer wrong to Sir 
 John Roundtree, or to any man acting with 
 him or under his warrant ? Follow me, 
 Mike Woodenspoon, and if you meet 
 with any of your gossips, say not a word 
 of the business we have in hand." 
 
 The knight strode on, and Mike, falling 
 in the rear, marched after him with Roger 
 Hinde, the serving-man, who liked the 
 business no better than Mike did, having 
 the same awe of Tom's supernatural 
 character, and the same dread that a 
 tumult would follow Tom's arrest. Sir 
 John walked so fast that the constable and 
 ale-conner had much ado to keep up with 
 him ; yet Mike not only spoke about Tom, 
 but also spoke professionally to the old 
 butler about the knight's ale-casks. As 
 they went along they were seen by divers 
 country people who were going into Erith,
 
 TOM OP THE AVOODS. 117 
 
 and who as soon as they got there reported 
 that Sii' John Eouudtree and his man 
 Eoger, and Constable Woodenspoon, were 
 walking towards the woods, and walking 
 very fast indeed, as if they had something 
 to do of great weight and m-gency. This 
 note was quite enough to rouse cm-iosity, 
 and several of the villagers forthwith set 
 out to follow on the footsteps of our 
 knight and party. 
 
 It was, as Sir John had told his cousin, 
 only a shoii; and pleasant walk to Tom's 
 Dodona. It Avas a very pleasant walk 
 through winding lanes, hedged in with 
 briar and honeysuckle, through two or 
 three thickets, and over two or three 
 gentle hills, which afforded from their tops 
 glimpses of the In-oad river, and which 
 liad at their feet clear and prattling little 
 brooks, that were running and skipping to 
 the Thames. These little hill-tops and 
 openings in the thickets afforded also views 
 of the woods, marshes, and mead<nvs of 
 Essex, and of the little old village of 
 Dagenhiim, with tlu; low red roofs of its 
 housf'S shining in the setting sun. The 
 trio, bound on justice Inisiness, were soon 
 at the edge of tlie wood. Sir John, tliougli 
 not insensible to tin? stillness and solem- 
 nity of tlie ]»laf(', cntcrofl without hosita- 
 tioii by a narrow winding path; but Mike 
 and Koger hesitated and stopped at the 
 edge of the wood, each putting his open
 
 118 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 palm above his eyebrows, and looking 
 under it into the brown and misty atmos- 
 phere. When they had gazed thus for 
 awhile without seeing anything but the 
 trees, and the fern that grew under the 
 trees, and some squirrels that were nimbly 
 running up the stems of the trees, the 
 barber and waiting-man entered the wood 
 and walked at a smart pace to come up with 
 the knight, who had never missed them. 
 The almost horizontal rays of the sun found 
 their way into the wood, but only for a 
 short distance, when the trees were found 
 to grow so closely together, and the foliage 
 was so thick, that scarcely a ray could 
 penetrate, and hardly a glimpse could be 
 gotten of the sky. Here that brown and 
 misty hue \^iiich reigns in such places was 
 browner and more vapoury. It was a 
 most solemn spot ; it was the centre of a 
 world of gnarled trunks, wide-spreading 
 branches and thick leaves. There was no 
 sound. A forest roaring with the tempest 
 is sublime, trees moaning in the evening 
 wind give a melancholy, soul-touching 
 note ; but there is something more touch- 
 ing, more melancholy, more awful than 
 these — and that is the inmost heart of a 
 forest on a calm summer's eve. 
 
 Stopping luider a strange blighted tree. 
 Sir John said, "This should be near the 
 place. Shout, my good fellows, and then, 
 good Mike, do your duty and fear not."
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 119 
 
 Never was there a more lamentable at- 
 tempt at a shout than that which the two 
 men uttered ; awe and fear choked their 
 voices, and made them look so pale and 
 ghostly that a stout-hearted man mig'ht 
 have been startled at the sight of them, 
 had he come suddenly upon them in that 
 solemn place. 
 
 " Tom must be near indeed, if he can 
 hear those piping voices of yours," said 
 Sir John. " What ails you ? Shout, Mike, 
 shout ! Roger, give tongue ! " 
 
 The barber and the serving-man tried 
 again, but it was again but a poor and 
 weak Holla ! that they could give. The 
 knight grew impatient, and raising his 
 own firm and manful voice, he made the 
 thick wood re-echo with his " Holla ! 
 holla ! holla ! Tom of the Woods, come 
 foi-tli ! " 
 
 Presently a rustling was heard among 
 the trees, and footsteps among the fern, 
 and a deep voice which said"! come! I 
 come ! I come ! and the judgment is a- 
 coming! " and in the next instant Tom of 
 the Woods stood close by the side of our 
 knight. The barber and the serving-man 
 shook in their shoes. In truth, the wood- 
 land seer, in such a plaro, was an awful 
 sight to look ujxtn. H(! was a tall, gaunt, 
 thin man, clad in along black riding-cloak, 
 much stained and tattered ; his head was 
 without any covering, and almost bald, but
 
 120 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 he had cultivated a beard with singular 
 success, for it was thick and shaggy, and 
 reached nearly to his girdle; his legs 
 beyond the mantle or cloak were naked, 
 and instead of shoes he wore rough san- 
 dals. He carried neither staff nor sword — 
 he had nothing in his right hand but a 
 small black book — but no one could look 
 at him without seeing that a sword or any 
 implement of war in such a right hand as 
 his would be a fearful weapon. It was 
 also easy to see that Tom had dealt in 
 pikes and trenchant blades at some period 
 of his life ; on his bald forehead just above 
 the left temple there was a long, broad, 
 and deep scar ; and on the same side of the 
 head, between the cheek-bone and the 
 beard, there were the signs of another 
 portentous gash. Our hermit, indeed, had 
 a hybrid look, being very like a cross 
 between a monk and a man-at-arms, or a 
 hermit and a di'agoon. The long riding- 
 cloak and Tom's manner of wearing it 
 assisted no doubt in giving him this mixed 
 character ; but Tom had really been one 
 of Oliver Cromwell's Ironsides, and as 
 doughty and fearless a one as ever rode 
 with the Protector. He stood erect and 
 looked calmly in the face of Sir John, as 
 if he expected the knight to speak first ; 
 but as Sir John did not open his lips, Tom 
 of the Woods, not roughly or rudely, but 
 with a gentle voice said, " Here am I ; you
 
 TOM OF THE "WOODS. 121 
 
 called me from my evening meditation ; 
 what would ye have of me — in what can 
 I serve you, Sir John Eoundtree ? " 
 
 The knight, who more than ever hated 
 the task which had been forced upon him, 
 looked round to Constable Woodenspoon, 
 and intimated by several hems and nods 
 tliat he ought to speak and stand forward 
 with the warrant he held in his hand. But 
 ]\Iike could neither speak nor move; and 
 thus Sir John found himself under the ne- 
 cessity of telling the hermit that his alarm- 
 ing prophecies had excited the suspicions 
 of certain persons well affected to the State, 
 and had induced him to issue a warrant for 
 his apprehension in order that he might 
 be examined. Tom listened calmly, and 
 replied without any anger, or any visible 
 emotion, that he had expected such a 
 summons, that he had had a vision, and 
 tliat he was ready to go again into prison 
 for righteousness' sake, being well assured, 
 and by heavenly relations, that the iron 
 bars were not forged, nor the fetters made, 
 that could restrain him long. By this 
 time Miko had grown bold fiiough to step 
 within ten yards ot" the hcrinil, and to 
 sliow liim the warrant by holding it out at 
 ann's lengtli. 
 
 "'Tis well," said Tom; "put up the 
 piipor, I n(!ed it not, 1 am ready to go 
 wliitliersoever Sir John chooses. The law 
 cannot hurt me, nor can the law-makers or
 
 122 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 law-breakers." And then^ turning to the 
 kniglit, he said in a milder tone, " This is 
 not your doing, Sir Jolm Eoundtree ; you 
 have been put upon this thing by men who 
 live not at Erith or anywhere in Kent, but 
 at Whitehall ; " and then, speaking in a 
 whisper in the knight's ear, he added, 
 " Your ungodly kinsman. Sir Ralph Spicer, 
 has been sent down by the Court to com- 
 pass my arrest." 
 
 " Was that also in your vision ? " said 
 Sir John, somewhat startled. 
 
 '' Ay," replied Tom of the Woods, " and 
 a great deal more than that ; but let them 
 re]3ent, let them all repent, for I say again 
 the judgment of the Lord is at hand, more 
 terrible than the judgment of fire and 
 plague ! " 
 
 The instant that Tom began to 
 prophesy his countenance, which before 
 had been perfectly calm, became flushed 
 and excited, his eyes flashed, and his tall 
 figure seemed to grow still taller and more 
 erect. Mike and Eoger trembled and 
 shrunk within themselves, and went 
 behind a tree to avoid the fearful sight. 
 Sir John, who had seen him thus before, 
 said nothing but " God f orefend ! God 
 +'orefend ! But judgment or no judgment, 
 follow me to Erith." 
 
 Our knight then began to walk back by 
 the way lie had come. The seer followed 
 him in silence, and thereupon, encouraged
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 123 
 
 by the meekness of his deportment, the 
 constable and his ser\dng-man, though still 
 trembling, followed the seer. Sir John 
 had a good sword by his side, and old as 
 he was growing, he was still a match for 
 most men (as for any assistance from con- 
 stable or servant he might as well have 
 expected it from the timid little squirrels) ; 
 but Tom of the Woods had no mischief in 
 his head of that sort. All went as quietly 
 as a funeral procession until they came 
 near to the edge of the wood ; but there 
 they were met by some score of peasants, 
 who, having finished their daily labours, 
 were going to Tom's temple and confes- 
 sional for some ghostly comfort or discom- 
 fort, as many of the people of the 
 neighbouring country had been in the 
 habit of doing for a long time past. These 
 nistics bowed to Sir John, and gave him 
 the good evening with all due reverence ; 
 but when tliey saw the constable they 
 suspected what was in the wind, and some 
 of them began to cry, "W]iillier away, 
 Tom; whither away, Tom of the Woods? 
 We were coming unto you to make some 
 more ropentanfe." 
 
 " Brc-tliiH'Ti," said Tom, " depart in peace, 
 for I am now in the grip of the world's 
 law." 
 
 "Wlial 's iliat to tlio law of the saints," 
 said (jne of the fellows who had been most 
 seriously infected by Tom's fanaticism.
 
 124 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 " Heed it not, Tom of the Woods ! We 
 will stand by you even though it be against 
 this worshipful knight, who hath not 
 joined in the revelry and wickedness of the 
 times, and who ever yet hath been the 
 poor Kentish man's friend." 
 
 At this very moment the people who had 
 come out from Erith reached the spot. 
 Except a few of the rougher sort who 
 dwelt down by the river side, and w]:o 
 lived more upon water than upon lanC, 
 they all doffed their caps to our knight; 
 but at the same time they seemed to be 
 grieved and even angry at Avhat he was 
 doing, and they joined the other party in 
 saying that Tom of the Woods should not 
 be sent to prison. Sir John was about to 
 address them, when the prophet held up 
 his right hand and spake. 
 
 " Peace, brothers and children," said 
 Tom; "Peace and submission! The time 
 hath long been that those who persecute 
 God's true servants, and seek to kill them, 
 think they do the State good service. But 
 this worthy knight, however mistaken in 
 other particulars, and however hoodwinked 
 he may be, hath never been of that 
 number. Do him, therefore, no wrong in 
 hindering that which he hath in hand, and 
 which by the light that is in me I do 
 know he hath unwillingly undertaken. Let 
 me go whithersoever he will take me. This 
 bondage will be short. I shall be free and
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 125 
 
 back to the woods again. This I tell ye 
 all ; and when did ye know me to be a false 
 prophet?" 
 
 This tranquillised most of the multitude, 
 and they were clearing- the path, when a 
 sour old fisherman who had been present 
 at the arrival and landing of Sir Ralph 
 Spicer, said doggedly, " Tom of the Woods, 
 you know not all the danger you are in. 
 There's a hell-rake of a courtier that hath 
 come down from London, and . . . ." 
 
 " I knew of that coining before you did,'* 
 said the prophet, " and I tell ye that 
 neither that jackanapes nor those that 
 sent him can for this present do me any 
 harm." 
 
 " You know best," said the surly man, 
 " but may I be cursed, or pressed into the 
 Navy to starve, and there were but a few 
 here of my mind, if I would allow thee to 
 run so much as the risk of being mistreated 
 by that courtier's tongue. Comrades, I say 
 that Tom of the Woods ought to stay 
 where he is, or go farther into the Weald ; 
 and that wo ouglit to sef to it." 
 
 Several of the rougher sort showed an 
 inclination to be violent. As all violent 
 passions are infectious, this might have 
 spread ; but tlu^ licrinit, letting the Iron- 
 side part of liis cliaractf'r got the ascen- 
 dant, caught the sour ohl lishennan by his 
 jacket, and shook him till his bones 
 rattled, calHiig him all the while a doubter
 
 126 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 and unbeliever, a godless man that was 
 setting himself in opposition to destiny 
 and prophecy. After this there was no 
 more opposition to Tom's removal, and the 
 whole and now rather numerous party 
 quitted the wood and walked across the 
 hills to Sir John's mansion. By the time 
 they got there it was night ; but the moon 
 had risen. Sir Ralph, being much dis- 
 quieted by that great concourse of people, 
 did not come out to meet his cousin. Sir 
 John found him diverting her ladyship 
 with Court anecdotes, which, in his old- 
 fashioned way, he considered as very im- 
 proper entertainment for the ears of a 
 modest woman. A cloud was on Sir John's 
 brow as he said, "■ Sir Ralph, I have done 
 what the King hath put upon me. Tom 
 of the Woods is here in custody ; but now 
 we have got him, what shall we do with 
 him ? " 
 
 "Oh!" quoth Sir Ralph, " send the 
 fanatic to prison." 
 
 " But the law, cousin Ralph, requireth 
 some previous examination. I see we 
 shall get no good by it, nor by any part of 
 these proceedings ; but the forms must be 
 gone through with. Sir Ralph, I expect 
 that you will attend me during this 
 examination." 
 
 " Is the fanatic well bound and ironed '? 
 They are dangerous neighboui's when the 
 fit is upon them."
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 127 
 
 '" I have put neither cords nor chains 
 upon the man. There might have been 
 danger in trying to do it." 
 
 " Then, Sir John, my good cousin, as 
 the King's majesty wishes this matter to 
 be done off-hand and as quietly as 
 possible, and without appearing in it, I 
 think I had better not show myself in the 
 justice-room." 
 
 " As for that. Sir Ralph, Tom knew of 
 your coming before you got here ; and now 
 the people all know that yon are here, and 
 that the Court hath sent you to procure 
 his arrest. Come, then, and help me in 
 this examination." 
 
 Sir Ralph ver^^ reluctantly followed Sir 
 John to the library. The prisoner was 
 brought in by poor Mike, the terrified 
 constable ; and a few of the people were 
 admitted, the rest being recommended to 
 the care of Roger Hinde, and to the 
 knight's ale-casks. The lamp on the 
 justice-table scarcely gave so much light 
 as tlie broad full moon that shone through 
 the bay-window : Tom thus appeared a few 
 shades more awful tliun he had done in 
 the thick wood. Sir Ralph got behind 
 the high table, and sfat^'d hiiiisolf close 
 by the side of Sir John, who oi)C'nc'd 
 an t'iKjrmous folio volume, containing 
 abstracts of statutes, with directions to 
 justices of the peace : he kept turning the 
 pages over and over, but was excessively
 
 128 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 puzzled how to begin. Although he had 
 been m the commission of the peace good 
 seven years, he had never had such a case 
 to deal with. And of law, to say the 
 truth, he knew but little. He knew of 
 some statutes against witchcraft — and he 
 had a proper respect for them — but he 
 knew of none against prophesying, except 
 an old one of the time of Henry the 
 Eighth, against j)i'ophesying the King's 
 death — which the prisoner was never 
 known to have done. At last he made a 
 desperate leap in the middle, and said, 
 *' Tom of the Woods, dost know why thou 
 art here ? " 
 
 " Because it is the will of the Lord, and 
 because the spirit of prophecy hath been 
 put in me," replied Tom. 
 
 " But why dost utter prophecies, which 
 do too much excite men's minds, as is 
 aUeged ? " 
 
 " Because I cannot choose," said Tom ; 
 and he drew himself up and pointed 
 through the bay-window to the broad 
 river, which was brightened by the full 
 moon, and added, ^'I can no more help 
 giving utterance to the foreknowledge 
 which comes into my mind in my solitude, 
 and after long fasting and prayer, than 
 the waters of that river can avoid the 
 influence of the planet which causes the 
 ebb and flow of the tide." 
 
 "But," said Sir John, "there have been
 
 TU3I OF THE WOODS. 129 
 
 false prophets as well as true ones. Our 
 divines tell us that the voice of prophecy 
 ceased at the coming of the Redeemer, 
 which was the fulfilment of all jjrophecy. 
 How, then, canst prove thyself a true 
 prophet?" 
 
 " By the verifications of my pre- 
 dictions," replied the hermit. " In the 
 year sixteen hundred and sixty-five I 
 foretold a national judsfment, and that 
 year came tlie plague. In sixteen hundred 
 and sixty-sbc 1 told men that the vials of 
 the heavenly wratli were filled, and that 
 year came the great fire ; for this year I 
 have predicted another judgment, more 
 fearful than fire and plague. And it is 
 coming and is at hand ! Therefore let 
 me call ye all to repentance ! " 
 
 Sir John, being more and more puzzled, 
 uttered some hems and hahs, and then 
 said with some simplicity, "If it be , as 
 thou sayest, if what thou foresayest doth 
 so surely come to pass, then man why dost 
 not foretell good things? Bottor be a 
 prophet of good than a projiluit of evil. 
 Tom, I have known thee do kind deeds 
 among our poor Kentish folk ; and it 
 liafh been told me that thou hast in thy 
 iH'art a love of thy country. Then, 
 I>rithee, why not foretell some good thing 
 instead of all tliis woe? " 
 
 "Worthy kin'ght," said the hermit, "I 
 cannot shape my predictions to suit the
 
 130 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 ^visll and pleasure of the world, as that 
 unj^odl}'- imjiostor Lilly, the star-gazer, is 
 said to do. I cannot do as our roystering 
 Kentish youths are wont to do at the 
 season when the apple-trees are putting 
 on their blossoms ; and when, with 
 an un-Christianlike noise and a very 
 heathenish ceremony, they rmi into the 
 orchards and encircle every tree, and 
 promise the farmer 
 
 ' To every twig, apple big ! 
 To every bough, apples enow ! ' 
 
 and then, if the o^vner should not give 
 them to drink and hand them money 
 besides, they do unsay what they have 
 said, and tell the good man, in another 
 rhyme, that his crop of apples will be 
 nought. I cannot do this, Sir John. I 
 predict not for gold, like the London 
 astrologer ; nor for ale and shillings, like 
 our yoimg Kentish bumpkins ! I only 
 utter the words which are put into my 
 mouth or into my heart. I would foretell 
 good things if I could. But, sunk in sin 
 as she is, how can England expect good '^ 
 Again, I say, let us all humble ourselves 
 and repent ! I would die this instant, and 
 be happy in my death, if I could but see 
 the beginning of repentance. This land 
 is overshadowed by sin and the devil ! 
 The awful judgment cannot be delayed ! 
 Let every man look to the wickedness
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 131 
 
 of his own heart, and repent — repent — 
 repent ! " 
 
 The people present trembled. Sir John, 
 turning to his c jusin, said, "Sir Ralph, 
 tell me what to saj next. Sir Ralph, you 
 must e'en speak up ^^ourself as a deponent, 
 for there is no man here that will speak 
 against him." 
 
 " Call up my man Faittout," said Sir 
 Ralph ; " he will depone whatsoever you 
 will." 
 
 " But, cousin Ralph, these country folk 
 will not understand the varlet's English. 
 They maj' take it into their heads to cry 
 out against him as a Frenchman and 
 a Papist, and what, in Heaven's name, 
 can Faittout know about Tom of the 
 Woods?" 
 
 *' He can say he knows just this much — 
 that it is a common rumour, both in Court 
 and city, that Tom's outcryings against 
 the wickedness of the times are directed 
 against the King's sacred majesty, and 
 that Tom's prophesyings oxcito to riot 
 and insun-ectioii, and are the main cause 
 of the mutiny of our sailors." 
 
 Poor Sir Jolin rublxid his cliin, said tliat 
 was the point wlici-c li(» ouglit to have 
 begun, and sent ti> call up Faittimt. 
 
 When the Frenchman came into the 
 room, and caught, for the first time in his 
 life, a siglit of Toin of tlie Woods, as Tom 
 was stamling near the bay-window, he
 
 132 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDAVAY. 
 
 started back as if he had seen a ghost. 
 He had been familiar in his own country 
 with the sight of bearded men, and with 
 men gashed and scarred in the wars ; but 
 such a beard, such scars as Tom's, he had 
 never seen. When his master told him, in 
 French, the service that was expected from 
 him, although he was no coward, he almost 
 shook, and he tried to excuse himself. 
 He could not, however, deny that he had 
 heard the rumour, as well in the city as in 
 the precincts of the Court, and at last he 
 undertook to give a deposition to that 
 effect, provided his master would speak 
 first in the same sense. 
 
 Upon this Sir Ralph, finding that he 
 could not do otherwise, made a deposition, 
 and then Faittout followed him and re- 
 peated his very words, as nearly as he 
 could remember and pronounce them. Sir 
 John did not take the oaths of the depo- 
 nents, for he would have thought his 
 justice Bible profaned by being put to the 
 lips of a Papist like Faittout; but he 
 wrote down what was said, and then asked 
 Tom of the Woods whether he had any 
 reply to make. Tom answered that he 
 had none, except that in his prophesyings 
 he had never named the King, or any 
 other person ; that he had never meant to 
 excite men to insurrection, and that he 
 knew the mutiny in the fleet was not 
 caused by him. With a faltering and
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 133 
 
 most unwilling hand Sir John drew up an 
 order to the constable to keep the prophet 
 a prisoner in his house (for the only prison 
 in Erith was a strong room by the side of 
 Mike's shaving- shop), until he could be 
 removed to the comity gaol. He clearly 
 foresaw what would happen, and he could 
 scarcely grieve at it. Come what might, 
 he had done all that the King could 
 reasonably expect from him. To have 
 done what the wise Court wished would 
 have required an armed force. 
 
 The prophet, taking great pains to 
 keep the people quiet, walked down to 
 Mike's lock-up, and entered therein, for 
 this was in his vision ; but when, in less 
 than an hour, the men, women, and 
 children of Erith wore joined by a mob 
 which liad collected from all the neigh- 
 bouring villages and hamlets, and came 
 and l>r()ke open the prison door, Tom 
 girded his cloak about him and walked 
 out a free man, for this, too, was in his 
 vision, and by so speedily regaining his 
 liberty he was only completing his own 
 2>rophecy. 
 
 Among the crowd which escorted Tom 
 up the hills were several persons of 
 superior coiidifion. Of these some had 
 taken part in this broach of tlu; law out of 
 superstition and fanaticism, and with the 
 undoubting belief that poor Tom was 
 really an inspired personage; but oth(^r8
 
 134 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 had interfered simply from motives of 
 humanity, having been led to suspect that 
 the Government would wreak a cruel ven- 
 geance upon poor Tom if they could get 
 iiim and keep him in their power. Among- 
 the latter class was Walter Wynton, who 
 had mounted his horse and ridden over to 
 Erith from his father's house at the first 
 news of the hermit's arrest, which had 
 been spread far and wide with amazing 
 rapidity ; for Tom had his friends and 
 devotees in all directions (and the number 
 and activity of these people, and the daily 
 and almost hourly visits paid by some or 
 other of them to their prophet, were the 
 real causes of a good part of his seemingly 
 mysterious information). Though he had 
 left his hoi'se outside the village and had 
 muffled himself in his cloak, Walter was 
 too well known to escape being recog- 
 nised ; and it was soon gossiped about 
 that Master Walter had been the first to 
 break into the lock-up room. This was 
 said in commendation and for honour ; 
 but it was afterwards heard by some who 
 employed it to discredit and ruin 3'oung 
 Wynton. 
 
 Sir John was sitting at supper with his 
 gnest and the ladies, when the mob halted 
 opposite to his house and gave him notice, 
 with three cheers, that Tom of the Woods 
 was free, and was going to put himself 
 beyond the reach of warrants. " Let
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 135 
 
 there be no more of this/' shouted one of 
 the mob ; "let the courtiers of London 
 leave the prophet in Kent to himself, or 
 perchance we may do that in the great 
 city which -will make them think that Wat 
 the Tyler and John Ball the priest, witli 
 the old commons of Kent, be upon them 1 
 We Kentish men have in all times given 
 sharp blows for our friends, and our old 
 rights and privileges ! " It required all 
 the respect they entertained for the 
 worthy knight, and all the convincing- 
 eloquence of poor Tom, to prevent their 
 hooting and menacing Sir Ralph, who, at 
 this moment, looked amazingly silly and 
 disconcerted. Taking a cup of claret in 
 his hand, as soon as the mob was gone 
 away, he said, " May this good drink be 
 my poison if ever I volunteer to go a 
 prophet-hunting again ! But 'tis no fault 
 of mine ! They ought to have sent me 
 with a squadi-on of His Majesty's guards, 
 and then. . . ." 
 
 "And then," said Sir John, "there 
 would have Ijeen bleeding noses and no 
 gain. The people would liave fought for 
 Tom; the sailors in the river, and froiii 
 Df'ptford, and NVooiwicli, and Gravescnd, 
 would have gathered here, and bad woidd 
 lia ve been made worse ! And you could never 
 liave succeedfd in unearthing Tom; and 
 even if you had caught him, and ovcrconu' 
 all resistanci? here, you could never have
 
 136 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 carried him away ; for if you had tried to 
 go by water, the sailors would have been 
 upon you, and if you had endeavoiu-ed to 
 go by land, every Kentish man between 
 this and Greenwich would have risen 
 against you. 'Tis a pitiful business, and 
 were better not done; but it is better as it 
 is than as it might have been." 
 
 "Of a certainty," said Sir Ealph, "I 
 shall come to no honour or f>referment by 
 this expedition ; but there is good hope 
 that the King and Court will by this 
 time have forgotten that they ever sent 
 me." 
 
 " Then, Cousin Ealph, let us try and for- 
 get it as quickly as we can, and in the 
 meanwhile say no more about it. The 
 times are too unsettled, and there are too 
 many storms gathering around us, to think 
 of calling the good Erith people to account 
 for what they have done this night. 
 Cousin Ealph, fill to the King's majesty's 
 health, and then sing us a good cavalier 
 song. May God send His Majesty better 
 days and better advisers ! " 
 
 Sir Ealph gladly accepted both invita- 
 tions, and although his singing had been 
 somewhat spoiled by his hard drinking, he 
 sang with very good emphasis "When the 
 King enjoys "his own again." Before he 
 could begin " Phillida flouts me," Marion 
 vtdthdrew. My lady tarried, and would 
 have tarried still, but Sir John gave her a
 
 TOM OF THE WOODS. 137 
 
 peremptory warning, seeing that his cousin 
 was getting very mellow, and exceedingly 
 free both in his speech and in his songs. 
 Since Sir Ralph's last visit there had been 
 no such late sittiiig at Erith. At last 
 the two cousins di-ank the St. George and 
 separated.
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 A Eight and a Flight. 
 
 Sir John Roundtree woke the next morn- 
 ing- -with a headache, and very heartily sick 
 of his guest. 
 
 " If this graceless cousin of mine tarries 
 much longer," said Sir John, " he will talk 
 her ladyship, my wife, quite crazy, and 
 frighten poor Marion out of her wits. I 
 wish he were gone — I wish he had never 
 come ; but he is my kinsman ; I must not 
 be inhospitable. What shall I do ? " Our 
 good knight did nothing at all ; and as Sir 
 Ralph found it both expedient and pleasant 
 to stay where he was, he determined to 
 stay for a few days. If he should go back 
 to Court while the business was fresh he 
 might get laughed at for catching a wild 
 man of the woods only to let him go again. 
 Nor did the journey back to London tempt 
 him as a pleasant and safe one just at this 
 moment. In the course of the night the 
 sailors of another King's ship, Ij'ing in the 
 upper part of the Hope, near Gravesend, 
 had mutinied, and after landing their 
 officers in the pinnace, they had nui out 
 their guns shotted and ready for action ; 
 the whole river, from the Tower dov^Ti tcv
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 139 
 
 the buoy at the Nore, was reT)orted to he 
 in a most disorderly state, the crews of the 
 merchant ships which could not put to sea 
 for fear of being captured by the Dutch 
 having taken up the cause of the sailors 
 of the fleet as their own. And if there 
 was danger in going back by the river, 
 there was also a chance of it if he went by 
 land, for the country people might lay in 
 wait for him on the road ; and who could 
 tell whither that devil Tom of the Woods 
 had betaken himself'-^ In the course of the 
 morning much news and gossip was 
 brought to the mansion. If half of it were 
 true, the Kentish men on shore were 
 almost as mutinous as the sailors. Sir 
 John was considerably distressed, and 
 LaflyEouufltree propoi-tionately gladdened, 
 by hearing the very bold and active part 
 which Waller Wynton had taken in bat- 
 tei-ing and breaking open the door of 
 Mike's lock-up houi-;o. 
 
 "And wlio is this Walter Wynton?" 
 said Sir Ralph, who had never seen him. 
 
 Marion, who was present, turned aside 
 her lu-acl in a very fruitlfss attompt to 
 conceal a blush. Lady Koundtrce, by silont 
 telegraph, gave Sir Ralph to understand 
 that she would tell him something as soon 
 as she could sjcak with him ahnie ; and 
 Sir Jolin, whrt four.d it very inconvenient 
 to enter into any explanation, said, "Oh! 
 Master Walier is a very brav(^ young
 
 140 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 gentleman, who at times lacks discretion, 
 but a brave young- gentleman always is 
 Master Walter. He is the bravest horse- 
 man, the best fowler and angler in all 
 these parts ; he knoweth Izaak Walton's 
 book by heart, and is ofttimes here and 
 the sharer of my sports. The last jack we 
 did kill in the Cray weighed eighteen 
 pounds." 
 
 '"But did you not say Wynton — 
 Walter Wynton ? " asked Sir Ealph. 
 
 Lady Roundtree, answering for her 
 silent husband, said, " Ay, that is the 
 youth's name." 
 
 " The only W3-nton I ever heard of at 
 Court," said Sir Ralph, " was that pesti- 
 lent Roundhead, Captain Wynton of 
 the fleet, who gave the King so much 
 trouble. Can it be that this Master 
 Walter is that rebel's son? But, cousin, 
 you speak of tlie youth as your friend 
 and frequent inmate. It cannot be ! Sir 
 John Roundtree would not admit the 
 son of such a Roundhead within his 
 doors." 
 
 Gentle as she was, Marion's dark blue 
 eyes flashed fire at these words, and she 
 looked at Sir Ralph as if she could drive 
 him out of those doors. That look and the 
 preceding l)Iush were quite enough to tell 
 a story. Sir Ralph no longer stood in any 
 need of one part of her ladyship's intended 
 explanations. In the meanwhile Sir John
 
 A FIGHT AXD A FLIGHT. 141 
 
 was reddening all over, dreading to appear 
 inconsistent and untrue to his principles, 
 though only in the eyes of a man like his 
 cousin, and yet hating to deny the truth, or 
 even to seem shy of confessing it. At last 
 his perplexity gave way to a good hearty 
 fit of passion, directed wholly agamst his 
 cousin. 
 
 "Cousin Ralph," said Sir .John, "it is 
 not for you to tell me against whom I am 
 to shut my doors. But for one honest man 
 of the late faction, I should have had no 
 door to shut or open. Walter Wynton is 
 the son of the bosom friend of that Crom- 
 wellite, and, as I said before, he is a brave 
 young gentleman. With the father I liave 
 never associated. But, s'blood, why should 
 I give such explanations to you ? If you 
 like not the company that come to this 
 house, you can get ye back to Court and 
 choose your own. You come here unbidden, 
 and you bring a pack of troubles with you ! '* 
 Our knight must have been wrolh indeed 
 ere lie could commit this broach of hos- 
 pitality. Her ladyship, who had never 
 heard him say so plainly to any man, and 
 much less to a cavalier and cousin-gonnan, 
 " Get out of my house," was all amaze- 
 ment. But, as it did not suit Sir Kalj)!! to 
 f[uarrel, and as ho could in no case get liim 
 gone without borrowing again from his 
 cousin, he would not take the affront, but 
 began a long ronciliatory speech, which
 
 14'2 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 Sir John did not stop to hear the end of. 
 Beckoning Marion to follow him, the old 
 knight went into the garden, and there 
 walked up and down with such long and 
 hasty strides that his ward could scarcely 
 keep pace with him. His anger, however, 
 soon cooled, and then he felt hearfcilj'- 
 ashamed of the few liastj words he had 
 said. He returned into the house, made a 
 very unnecessary apology, and invited his 
 cousin to join him and his ward in their 
 garden walk. But in the meanwhile Lady 
 Eomidtree had fully acquainted Sir Ralph 
 with the whole liistory of Walter Wyn- 
 ton ; and Sir Ralph had vowed that he 
 would get the said Master Walter into 
 such trouble as would make it impossible 
 for him ever to be Marion's husband. The 
 courtier had also amused her ladyship's 
 imagination with various little fictions, 
 some having relation to herself, and others 
 to a great lord at Court, who was entirely 
 guided by his advice, and would soon make 
 Mistress Marion forget that there ever had 
 been such a person in the world as Master 
 Walter. 
 
 For poor Marion this was a wearisome 
 day, and so was the day which followed 
 it. Walter Wynton neither came nor 
 sent; and the odious Sir Ralj)h, when- 
 ever he fomid an opportunity, would be 
 talking rhapsodies to her. But it was 
 not until the morning of the third day
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 148 
 
 that lier cup of disgust Avas filled to over- 
 liowing. 
 
 By means of the ingenious Faittout, Sir 
 Ralph discovered that the young lady was 
 a very early riser, and accustomed to be 
 in her flower-garden an houi' or twain 
 before Sir John and my lad}' were stirring. 
 As he sate so late at night, to the no small 
 derangement of that quiet family, and as 
 he had hitherto come down so very late in 
 the morning, Marion hardly expected to 
 l)e disturbed in her early occupation. This 
 morning, however, as if she had had her 
 \isions as well as Tom of the Woods, she 
 roused her hand-maiden, and made her 
 accompany her to the garden. Marion 
 was busy among her flowers, and looking 
 as lovely as Perdita, and Lucy, her maid, 
 who had but small skill in floriculture, 
 was sitting in an alcove knitting, when 
 appr<jaching steps were lieard along the 
 winding gravel path. Marion thought it 
 could only be the old gardener, and did 
 not look up. Lucy remairu'd in the alcove, 
 concealed by a screen of llowering honey- 
 suckle. The sf)und of the steps came 
 nearer, but still Marion did not turn her 
 att^mtion from the flow(*rs slu^ was tying. 
 But, liark ! somebody sings ! Tliat is not 
 Hodge the gardener. Marion then looked 
 up for the first time, and saw, at the dis- 
 tance of only a few paces, our dissolute 
 cavalier, who had not slept long enough
 
 144 THE DUTCH IN THK MEDWAT. 
 
 to be quite sober, and who approached 
 her singing — 
 
 "I often heard her say, 
 
 That she loved posies ; 
 In the last month of May 
 
 I gave her roses ; 
 Cowslips and gilly-flowers. 
 
 And the sweet lily, 
 I got to deck the bowers 
 
 Of my dear PhiUy." 
 
 *' Sir Ealph ! " said Marion, ''there is no 
 place here for you at this hour. What 
 brings you hither? " 
 
 " Love," said Sir E,alph. "Nothing but 
 love ! " And, having a singing in his head, 
 he went on — 
 
 " 'Twas drink made me fall into love. 
 
 And love made me run into debt, 
 And though I have struggled and struggled and 
 strove, 
 
 I cannot get out of them yet. 
 There's nothing but money can cure me. 
 
 And rid me of all my pain." 
 
 " Sir Ralph," said Marion, " I wish you 
 would rid me of your company. I have 
 told you before now how displeasing this 
 behaviour is to me, and how much unbe- 
 coming your years." 
 
 *' Years, forsooth ! Who talks of years ? 
 I am no older than the King's religious 
 majesty, and that is the fashionable age at 
 Coiirt, whatever it may be in Kent. Ventre
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 145 
 
 saint gris ! Wli}^, what age dost thou take 
 me for, thou pouting Mistress Marion ? " 
 
 '*The King's years be thirty-seven — a 
 staid age with most men — but I have heard 
 my good guardian say that his cousin Sir 
 Ralph Spicer is forty-five years old." 
 
 " My cousin Roundtree has a wooden 
 head and no memory ! I tell thee, Mis- 
 tress Marion, that we are all gay young 
 men at Com-t — that I am young, and will 
 be young and thoughtless for twenty good 
 years to come, and that thou oughtest to 
 quit these Kentish clodpoles and with 
 me to Whitehall, to see how we gallants 
 live and to learn what life is." 
 
 Here Marion gave him a look which 
 ought to have checked his confidence and 
 humbled his vanity ; but the fumes of the 
 overnight's claret swam in his head, and 
 as +he young lady said, " Since you will not 
 leave me, Sir lialph, [ must leave you," 
 he caught her by the wrist and vowed that 
 she should not go quite so soon. Some of 
 that spirit wliifli liad often jmiTiiafod Cap- 
 tain Hemingtord on his quai'ter-dcck now 
 flashed from his daughter. "This is in- 
 sult, Sir Ralpl)," said she; "this is base 
 surj) rise, and iniiniinly vioh'nrf ! Unhinid 
 me, sir! I say unliiind nie and leave me, 
 or let me leave this ])Iace ! " 
 
 Tt is <loiib<f'uI wlu'tlier the half-inebri- 
 atf'd proflignff would liiive let go his hold 
 of that beautiful young ;mn so soon if 
 
 10
 
 14G THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Lucy had not come forth from the arbour 
 with a scream, and with something which 
 was better than a scream, a good heavy 
 garden-rake, with which she threatened 
 the visage of the Court rake. Sir Ralph, 
 who had no notion that Marion had brought 
 her attendant with her, did certainly look 
 rather discomposed at this jmicture ; but 
 he soon found his impudence and his 
 tongue. "Mistress Marion," said he, 
 *' these are but rustical manners, only to 
 be excused by thy ignorance and exceeding 
 simplicity. Child, I did thee too much 
 honour in paying thee a few courtly com- 
 pliments. But dost think that Sir Ralph 
 Spicer, who is run after by half the ladies 
 at St. James's — to say nothing of rich 
 waves, widows, and maidens in the city — 
 will ever really trouble his head about a 
 Kentish lass that meets him with pshaws 
 and shall nots ? " And having thus said, 
 to set himself still better at his ease, the 
 cavalier sang — 
 
 " J'aime bien quand je suis aime, 
 Mais je ne puis etre enflamme 
 Des belles qui sont inhumaines. 
 
 Et si Ton veut me posseder 
 
 II faut de cliarmes pour me prendre, 
 
 Et des faveurs pour me garder." 
 
 Sir Ralph was obliged to walk while he 
 was singing, for Marion, with her maid 
 Lucy (who had not quitted her garden-
 
 A FIGHT AXD A FLIGHT. 147 
 
 rake), was takiu<^ the shortest way to the 
 house. 
 
 " One word," said Sir Ralph, '■' one word. 
 Mistress Marion, before we part." 
 
 " Sir," said the daughter of Hemingf ord, 
 " there have been words enough and too 
 many ; there has been inisusage and un- 
 mannerliness, and too much of that. I 
 would not make discord between kinsmen 
 .... I would not stir up strife between 
 any men .... but were I to tell Sir John 
 Roundtreeof your behavioui- in this garden, 
 my father's friend and my own best friend 
 would make you feel his displeasure." 
 
 "And were I," rejoined the cavalier, 
 growing spiteful, " were I to tell my dull 
 cousin that this shy bird, his ward, gets 
 out of her cage at unseemly hours to meet 
 her Roundhead spark in this garden .... 
 why, then, my cousin Sir John would see 
 to it. Mistress Marion, thine anger is in 
 good part matter of disappointment ! Thou 
 wast here to m<.'etthatPuritanical stripling 
 they call Master Walter, the son of that 
 malignant Cai>tain Wynton. The crop- 
 eared father narmwly escaped hanging at 
 Tyburn for the traitor that he is. Mayhap 
 the son will not be quite so forttmate. It 
 is no liglit matter U) break open the doors 
 of a prison — it is no li^'lit matter to do 
 what W^ilter Wynton did the oilier night — 
 and then his name alone is enou<rli tohantr 
 him; and men have been drawn, hanged.
 
 148 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 and quartered for less offences .... So, 
 so, Mistress Marion, tliou turnest pale, 
 dost thou ? Thou tremblest ? Thy knees 
 may tremble more when thou comest to 
 the matted gallery in Whitehall to kneel, 
 to pray for . . . ." 
 
 " If Master Walter were here," said the 
 maiden Lucy, who was excited to that 
 degree that she could put no control upon 
 her tongue, " if Master Walter were but 
 here he would cut your big ugly periwig 
 in twain for making my sweet mistress be 
 so pale. The most that men do say of 
 Master Walter is that he kicked open the 
 door of the barber's shop, and most do say 
 that he did not so much as that, and that 
 he was at home at Charlton nursing his 
 sick father when Tom of the Woods was 
 released by Providence according to his 
 prophecy." 
 
 But before the warm-hearted Kentish 
 handmaiden had quite finished her short 
 speech Sir Ralph had kissed his hand in a 
 mocking, insolent manner to her fair and 
 now certainly very pale mistress ; had 
 taken his departure, and was on his way 
 to his bed to get that additional sleep 
 which his head certainly needed ; and he 
 soon disappeared within the house, singing 
 from his friend Sir John Denham — 
 
 " I pretend not to tlie wise ones, 
 To the grave, 
 Or the precise ones."
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 149 
 
 On the morning- following these gar- 
 d3n scenes, a certain dapper young man 
 riding a promising nag arrived at Sir 
 John Roundtree's from the village of 
 Charlton. It was only Joe Whitehead, the 
 groom or horse-boy of Master Walter, 
 yet his coming was as welcome to two 
 inmates of the house at Erith as it could 
 have been if he had been King Joseph or 
 Joseph an Emperor. He brought a letter 
 to Sir John Romidtree, in which his young 
 master frankly stated that he had indeed 
 been present at, and taken part in, the 
 breaking open of Mike Woodenspoon's 
 lock-up ; but in which he also reminded 
 Sir John that Tom of the Woods had not 
 been committed in a very legal or regular 
 manner, and that the detention of the poor 
 prophet with the chances of his being sub- 
 jected to barbarous treatment was neither 
 what he the knight could wish, nor what 
 the people of the country would allow 
 without a great tumult. Walter further 
 told the knight that he would have been 
 to Erith to givc^ fulhir explanation by 
 word of mouth but for a sudden indisposi- 
 tion of luH liitlu'i-. 
 
 Of this last circumstance, as we have 
 seen, the maiden Lucy had shown some 
 knowled'^e. She had an interest in know- 
 ing what pasHcd at Charlton ; and as that 
 village is little more than five miles from 
 Erith, and as gossips daily went and came
 
 150 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 between the two places, she might have 
 obtained the information without the aid 
 of a fairy or the relations of a seer. 
 
 As Sir John read Master Wynton's 
 letter he muttered to himseK, "Break 
 open a prison, that is very bad, but to 
 confess it under his own hand, whatever 
 the future danger may be, that is very 
 good, or very imlike a Puritan ! I should 
 not have liked to hear of the poor lunatic's 
 ears being cut off, or of his being sent to the 
 plantations. But I do verily believe the 
 Kentish blood would have been up and 
 mischief done before Tom of the Woods 
 could have been gotten from Erith. 
 Master Walter hath done a better service 
 in helping to let Tom go than my mad 
 cousin did me in making me commit poor 
 Tom. I say again, I am glad Tom of the 
 Woods is gone free. And I wish Sir 
 Ralph would get him back to Whitehall." 
 
 Joe Whitehead was the bearer of 
 another letter which he delivered to Lucy, 
 though it was not intended for Lucy's 
 reading. Marion, who had heard, even in 
 her quiet solitude, of the mad and bloody 
 duels that were continually taking place in 
 London about the Court, and who had a 
 fearful conception of the ferocity of many 
 of the cavalier party, or of the reckless, 
 desperate men who claimed to be the 
 choice spirits of the age (and she had quite 
 recently heard of friend killing friend, and
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 151 
 
 even brother brother in savage duels, and 
 upon slight provocations), had not only 
 determined to keep Sir Ealph's insolence 
 to herseK, but had also charged her hand- 
 maiden not to mention it to anybody lest 
 it should come to the ears of Master 
 Walter. Poor Lucy had given a promise, 
 with the full intention of keeping it ; but 
 Joe loved Lucy and Lucy him, and for a 
 long time past there had been no secrets 
 between them. And then that outlandish 
 man Faittout and the pestilent monkey 
 had so flustered and tormented Lucy, the 
 one by making love to her, and the other 
 by making faces at her, and by playing all 
 manner of antics and foul tricks in the 
 servants' hall, that lior heart Avas too full 
 to allow her to be silent about the visitors 
 in the house ; and when she began talking 
 and revealing with Joe in the pantry, 
 while he was ref resiling himself 
 with the never-failing cup of ale, she 
 revealed much more than she meant 
 to do, and never found out her mistake 
 unlil Joe jumped up in m round passion 
 and swore he would cut the monkej^'s 
 tliroat first, and beat the Frenchman 
 within an inch of his life afterw.irds, and 
 go and bring <l<i\vn M;ister Walter to deal 
 with the faviiliero. Then Lucy wept and 
 implored Joe io be quiet if lie really loved 
 her, and told him liow strictly her young 
 mistress had enjoined her to be silent and
 
 152 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 secret — at least about all that scene in the 
 garden. Now, as Joe Whitehead was 
 really and truly head over ears in love, his 
 wrath was soon subdued, and he was easily 
 made to promise that he would say nothing 
 to his young master for fear of combustion 
 and trouble. We think that before Joe 
 left the house at Erith there was a neat 
 little letter put into his hand with the 
 name of Master Walter Wynton upon it ; 
 but we know for historical truths that, 
 after giving a kick to the monkey who was 
 chained up in the servants' hall, and a 
 very unfriendly look to Monsieur Faittout, 
 who was brushing his master's cloak in the 
 yard, Joe Whitehead mounted his nag and 
 trotted away over hill, heath, and common 
 for Charlton, his heart being hghter than 
 it otherwise would have been, by the 
 assurance he had i-eceived from Lucy that 
 both master and man. Sir Ralph and 
 Faittout, were going to leave for London 
 that same forenoon. 
 
 Now, it so fell out that the visitors at 
 Erith did not take their departure tintil 
 the noon of the following day, although 
 Sir Ralph had settled all the necessary 
 preliminaries, and had intended to take 
 his departure at the time mentioned by 
 Marion's maiden. He had borrowed from 
 his cousin some gold pieces, which the 
 knight cared little enough about, and he 
 had even succeeded in borrowing the
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 158 
 
 kiiight's favourite bright bay mare, which 
 Sir John cared a great deal about, and the 
 lending of which showed how eager he 
 was to get rid of his kinsman, who would 
 not venture by water on account of the 
 mutinous sailors. But when all these 
 arrangements were made, our cavalier 
 thought it would be better to tarry another 
 day where he was, to allow more time for 
 the people to cool upon the subject of the 
 arrest of Tom of the Woods, and for the 
 courtiers at Wliitehall to forget the 
 business he had been sent upon. In sjDite 
 of the side-looks and frowns of her 
 husband. Lady Roundtree earnestly 
 pressed him to stay and enliven their 
 dullness with a little more lively talk ; and 
 Sir Kalph liad the art of making it appear 
 — at least to her ladj'ship — that he stayed 
 the one day more only to please her, and 
 at the cost of much pleasure at Court and 
 some detriment to State business. 
 
 On the morrow, however, a little before 
 the hour of noon, Sir Rali)li Spicer took 
 his departure from the house at Erith, 
 w(.'li mounted c>n .Sir John's bay mare, and 
 being followed by Faittout, who bestrode 
 a little rough pony hired for that occasion. 
 The beaufiful weullier still continued; the 
 blight warm sun of June shone out. from a 
 blue sky which had scarcely ii cloud ; the 
 jiir was balmy, jind perfumed with the 
 sweetbriar and eglantine, with the unseen
 
 154 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 violet which grew in shade near the edges 
 of the woods and coppices, or on the moist 
 banks by the roadside ; and myriads of 
 birds were singing in those Kentish wood- 
 lands. Although scarcely conscious of 
 these purer influences, they nevertheless 
 acted upon his dulled and vitiated spirit, 
 and contributed greatly to Sir Ralph's 
 buoyancy of heart. As he rode along he 
 felt gayer than he had done for many a 
 long day. Perhaps he thought that this 
 was all owing to the gold he had gotten 
 into his purse, for before he got out of 
 sight of Erith church he began to sing — 
 
 " Money's a lady ; nay, site is a princess ; 
 
 Nay more, a goddess adored on earth. 
 Without this money who can be merry. 
 
 Though he he never so noble by birth ? 
 
 When thou hast money, then friends thou hast 
 many ; 
 
 When it is wasted their friendship is cold. 
 Go by Geronimo, no man then will thee know. 
 
 Knowing thoti hast neither silver nor gold. 
 
 Money doth all things, both great things and 
 small things ; 
 
 Money doth all things, as plainly we see. 
 Money doth each thing, want can do nothing, 
 
 Poverty pai-teth still good companie. 
 When thou hast spent all, or else hast lent all, 
 
 Who then is loving or kind unto thee ? " 
 
 Thus carolling and ambling the cavalier 
 and his man came to Lessness Heath,
 
 A. FIGHT AND A PLIGHT. 155 
 
 where the road was scarcely perceptible, 
 or where there was then no high road, 
 every traveller choosing his own path over 
 the green sward, and among the t'ui-ze and 
 thickly-growing bi-ushwood. Our travellers 
 were somewhat embarrassed in their choice, 
 for they knew not the country, and in 
 that solitude they could see no cottage, 
 and met with no one of whom to ask the 
 way. Sir Kalph, however, without taking 
 the shortest path, chose pretty well, and, 
 crossing Lessness Heath, and leaving the 
 old grey tower of East Wickham church 
 on the left, he soon got uj)on Plumstead 
 Common. Here the scenery became still 
 wilder, the ground rougher and more 
 broken, the furze thicker and higher; 
 and there was more wood and coppice. 
 But there was beauty and sweetness in 
 this increasing wildness. The furze was 
 covered witli its rich golden bloom, and 
 the wild tliynif that gi'ow all about mixed 
 its perfume witli that of the blooming 
 heather, and gave out its full fragrance 
 when crushed boncatli tho hoofs of the 
 two steeds. As they came to the very 
 wildest part of Plumstead Common, our 
 travellers — who had seen no lniman being 
 since they left Erith, except an old woman 
 in a red cloak, attending soTue vei'v 
 white geese on tin; common, and some 
 little boys hunting for linnets' nests 
 among the furze — discovered a gentle-
 
 156 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 man riding alone across a lower part of 
 the common. 
 
 " I wonder," said Sir Ealph, " who is 
 that solitary spark ? " 
 
 He was soon to know, and to his cost. 
 As he was looking at the distant stranger, 
 that gentleman, seeming for the first time 
 to have caught sight of him, turned his 
 horse's head, and, quitting the path he 
 had been following, rode up the common 
 towards oui- cavaliero. At first he came 
 up gently and hesitatingly, as if he 
 doubted whether he were not mistaken ; 
 but, as he got within nearer view, he 
 sjjurred his horse, and came on at speed, 
 in spite of the rough and broken nature of 
 the ground. The bold rider was Walter 
 Wynton, who had been pui'suing the 
 shortest road from Charlton to Erith, 
 ^^dth various unpleasant thoughts working 
 in his head. Poor Marion's well-intended 
 secret — for it was intended to prevent 
 strife and bloodshed — had been a second 
 time betrayed. Joe Whitehead — conclud- 
 ing that Sir Ralph must have been before 
 this back in the great city, whither his 
 young master most rarely went, and whither 
 he could not consider him mad enough to 
 go in search of a courtier — thought that 
 there would be no great hann in telling 
 what Lucy had told him yesterday; and, 
 as Walter was preparing for his ride, his 
 groom had told him all about the scene in
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 157 
 
 the garden, aud the exceeding- vexation 
 which the roystering cavalier had caused 
 mistress Marion. Although he had some 
 notion of going to London Avith a friend, 
 Walter had not the least expectation of 
 meeting our com-tly knight on Plumstead 
 Common ; but, as such personages were 
 not often seen in that lone place, it struck 
 him, as soon as he saw the cavalier's gay 
 dress, that this could be no other than Sir 
 Ralph ; and, when he got near enough to 
 see the well-knoAvn bay mare he was riding, 
 he could have sworn to his man, although 
 he had never seen him before. 
 
 Walter did not draw rein until he di-ew 
 up across a rugged narrow path which our 
 knight was following ; and then, rising in 
 his stirrups, he said, in a tone very unlike 
 that used in friendly greetings, " Sir Ralph 
 Spicer, if 1 mistake not?" 
 
 " Wlio is it that asks?" said the cava- 
 lier. 
 
 " Walter Wynton," replied the young 
 man; "and that name is enough to tell 
 you that you must dismount mikI ti^-lit nie 
 here." 
 
 The cavalier eyfl liis man, and tlie 
 length of the sword he wore at his side. 
 The siglit was not sucli as to givr' the 
 assurance of an easy victory ; and Sir 
 Ralph, whose courage and nerve had been 
 injured by drink and d('])auch('ry, would 
 rather not have fought at all in <hat lonely
 
 158 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 place. But he bethought him that Walter 
 had only been a tarpaulin, that sailors 
 ■were seldom skilled in fence, and that he 
 in his exile had learned the trick from 
 some of the best French masters. More- 
 over, he saw that he must either fight or 
 run away, and that there was but slight 
 chance of escaping on that rough country 
 from one that was so well mounted and 
 rode so fearlessly. During the few seconds 
 that these calculations were made in the 
 mind of the cavalier, the young sailor 
 loosened his sword from his sheath and 
 half drew it ; and Faittout expressed by 
 sundry French ejaculations that he ex- 
 pected his master would dismount and 
 drill a hole through the young man's 
 jerkin. Having made up his mind, Sir 
 Ralph said, " E-oundhead and mahgnant, I 
 use not to fight in duello with such as 
 thou art, but to leave them to the pillory 
 and gibbet. Thou hast done that at 
 Erith which may lay thee by the heels 
 before long, if I spare thee now. But, 
 since thou wilt have it so, I will even dis- 
 mount, and change the colour of some of 
 these heath-flowers with thy blood." 
 
 He dismounted and drew, but not before 
 Walter Wynton was out of the saddle and 
 on the ground, with his good rapier un- 
 sheathed. Faittout got off the pony to 
 hold the two steeds, and to look upon the 
 fight with a critical eye, but with the very
 
 A FIGHT AXD A FLIGHT. 159 
 
 confident assurance that his well-taught 
 master, who had lived so long in France, 
 must, after a very few passes, run hia 
 adversary through the body. But, when 
 swords were crossed, the fencing French 
 valet began to waver in his opinion, for 
 Walter handled his weapon like one who had 
 been tolerably well taught, and in vigour 
 of limb, in breath, and in quickness of eye 
 he clearly had the superiority. The rough- 
 ness of the gromid was more unfavom-able 
 to Sir Ralph, who skipped about in the 
 manner of the French school, than to 
 Walter, who stood firm, with one foot 
 fixed on the heath, in the manner of the 
 Spanish, or rather Neapolitan school of 
 fence. After a few lounges the cavalier 
 missed his footing, and fell among the 
 furze. His life was at the mercy of his 
 adversary, but Walter would not take 
 advantage of an accident. When Sir 
 Ralph rose he fought much more 
 cautiously, and Faittout had soon the 
 satisfaction to call out in Frfncli "Blood! 
 blood ! Cavalier, you hav(! drawn the first 
 blood, and had you not better let this 
 decide, and end the combat, as our rule is 
 in France ? " 
 
 Sir Ralph instantly acted upf)n the sug- 
 gestion — " Young man, thou art wounded ; 
 shall we stop henj ? " 
 
 " Fight on," n-pliod Walter; *' T am no 
 duel-seeker, and figlit not for trifles ; ])ut
 
 160 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 when I do draw the sword, it is not a 
 scratch that shall make me put it into the 
 scabbard. You have insulted my honour- 
 able father — you have done other wrongs 
 which can hardly be expiated with your 
 blood ; but you or I shall fall here." 
 
 The fight continued ; and Walter — 
 fresh in strength as when he began, and 
 altogether insensible to the slight wound 
 which he had received — plied his rapier so 
 vigorously, that Sir Ralph lost breath and 
 gave ground, and in so doing received the 
 point of his adversary's sword on one of 
 his ribs, and nearly measured his length 
 backwards. At this sight, which seemed 
 to threaten him with the loss of his place, 
 Faittout threw up the reins of the steeds 
 he was holding, and, drawing his own 
 sword, threw himself between his master 
 and Walter, and, as he beat aside Walter's 
 sword. Sir Ralph made a very ungenerous 
 and unmanly thrust at his brave foe. But, 
 before any more mischief could be done, a 
 tall, gaunt man, with a beard flowing 
 down to his girdle, came out of some 
 miderwood close at hand, shouting, 
 *^ What is this ungodly brawl ? Know 
 ye not that the judgment of the Lord is 
 at hand? Put uj) your swords, I say. 
 But what ! have we two upon one ? " 
 
 It was Tom of the Woods, with a 
 tremendous oaken staff in his hand ; and 
 that staff was presently aj)plied to the pate
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. ICl 
 
 of Faittout with so much vigour that the 
 varlet bit the heath. Theu, standing by 
 the side of the cavalier and Walter 
 Wynton, who renewed their fight, Tom 
 said, "Master Walter, I thought not to 
 find you engaged in such work as this ; 
 but I know you enough to know that you 
 must have strong and good cause for it — 
 and as you have now a fair field, go on in 
 God's name, and smite that Philistine. 
 But coolly, Master Walter ; forget not your 
 fence, my young master ! So, so, ply 
 him so ! — that's a good thrust — that 
 lounge was well parried ! . . . Straight 
 home! . . . Ah, ha! — you hit him 
 there, you hit him ! " 
 
 Tlie old-soldier fighting part of Tom's 
 character had completely gotten the better 
 of the prophet and caller to repentance. 
 He was follo\s'iiig the combatants with his 
 staff held up in the air like a truncheon, 
 when Faittout, having recovered from the 
 stunning effects of his blow, and in part 
 from the awe liis so sudden appearance 
 created in hiu), ])ut himself upon his track 
 with his drawn sword. Tom, however, 
 was too old a soldier to be taken by 
 surprise ; absorlK'd as he was by watching 
 Master Walter's prowess and good fence, 
 he yet kept tlu' corner of an ^'ye for the 
 Frenchman, and as soon as Faittout came 
 within reach he lowered his oaken staff, 
 knocked the sword out of the varlet'shand 
 
 11
 
 162 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 by hitting him a fearful rap across the 
 knuckles, and then knocked the senses 
 fairly out of his head by another and a 
 harder stroke across the pate. Meanwhile 
 Sir Ralph had kept receding and retreating 
 until he found himself at the edge of a 
 precipice overhanging a sand and gravel 
 pit. As he could retreat no farther, the 
 cavalier, whose breath and strength were 
 all but gone, made one desperate effort 
 to recover ground in front ; but in the act 
 he fell bodily upon the point of Walter's 
 sword, and then, reeling backward from 
 the weapon, fell over the precipice into 
 the deep pit, with one short groan. 
 
 "He is gone to his account! " said Tom 
 of the Woods. "But now. Master Walter, 
 ye must get ye to some place of safety, for 
 the fairness of this duello on your part will 
 not save you from trouble if you should be 
 caught, and that French varlet, who will 
 soon come to his senses again, may make 
 false report, and the word of Tom of the 
 Woods will not be taken in these unfair 
 times.'* 
 
 Walter now, for the first time, thought 
 of his horse, and looked across Plumstead 
 Common for him. Upon Faittout giving 
 up the reins, in order to cover his master. 
 Sir John Roiuidtree's bay mare, after a 
 shake or two of the head, had cantered off 
 for her stable at Erith, and Walter's good 
 black horse had scampered after her, and
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 163 
 
 even the sluggish little pony had shown 
 its heels in the air and had gone off in the 
 same direction. 
 
 " I must walk back to Charlton and see 
 my poor old father," said Walter. 
 
 "Not so," said Tom; "I will find the 
 means of breaking this business to Captain 
 Wynton, and .... also to the gentle 
 Mistress Marion at Erith, lest she should 
 think worse had happened than the death 
 of that foul scoffer. But you must away. 
 Master Walter — away instantly to some 
 safe hiding-place ! " 
 
 " But wliither shall I go ? " said Walter. 
 
 " If you could live in the woods like a 
 hermit," said Tom, " I would say come 
 with me into the Weald ; if you could 
 dwell in caves and holes in the earth, as I 
 have done when the rmrighteous were 
 seeking to ensnare me, I would say follow 
 me to the chalk caverns by Crayford, 
 where there be chambers, and passages, 
 and labyrinths that defy search ; but as 
 you have not been so rudely nurtured as I, 
 and as ihcsc lone plafps would b(( all too 
 drear without tlic visitations of jjrophecy, 
 I say, Master Walter, get ye gone to the 
 great city, and seek shelter for a season in 
 tho most pcoplfd part f»f it, where you are 
 most likely t(^ escape detection." 
 
 " I have no friends in thosf; parts," said 
 Walter, musing. "Samuel Pfpys, who 
 abides by the Navy-office, and wlioni I
 
 164 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 have now and then seen of late years at 
 Deptf ord and at Erith, was once the friend 
 or most devoted servant of my father ; but 
 times are changed, and Pepys is changed 
 with them." 
 
 " Ay," said Tom, " in the old Protec- 
 tor's time Samuel Pepys was the roundest 
 of B-oundheads. I would not trust Samuel 
 Pepys ; but 1 can put you in possession of 
 a secret which is the dread of his life, and 
 with which you can make him fear you. 
 That morning the man Charles Stuart went 
 to the block in front of Whitehall, Pepys 
 proposed as a fitting text for his funeral 
 sermon — ' Let the memory of the wicked 
 perish.' He was little more than a boy 
 when he said the words ; but he knows 
 that men have been severely handled for 
 less things said or done in their boyhood, 
 and next to getting money and fine 
 clothes, the great aim of his life is to 
 conceal that his father was a tailor of very 
 Republican principles, and that he, 
 Samiiel, was ever other than a hot cavalier 
 and high Churchman. Samuel Pepys, 
 though a backslider and turncoat, is not so 
 bad as most of them. There is kindness 
 and even a sense of justice in his heart — 
 all the seamen do say that he knows his 
 present trade, and would put excellent 
 order in the Navy if his superiors in office 
 allowed him so to do — Pepys might be a 
 very good man yet, if it were not for his
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 165 
 
 seK-seeldng. But then Pepys is a down- 
 right coward, and, Master Walter, you 
 know a coward is never to be trusted." 
 
 Walter, still musing, said : "I have 
 heard all this of Samuel Pepys, yet have I 
 never been able to help liking the man the 
 few times that I have been in his com- 
 pany ; and, if I cannot trust him, I know 
 nobody to whom I can apply for a hiding- 
 place." 
 
 " But I do know," said Tom of the 
 Woods. "Not many stone-casts from 
 Samuel Pepys's abode there dwells my fast 
 friend Hiram Bingley, my comrade in the 
 arms of the flesh and my brother in the 
 Lord. Hiram has a snug house in Gravel 
 Lane, by Ratcliffe Highway : many are the 
 children of sorrow and persecution he has 
 sheltered ere now, and assuredly he will do 
 his best for the son of so true a man as 
 Captain Wynton, and for thr^ friend and 
 liberat<jr of poor Tom of the Woods. His 
 vicinage, too, is full of bold sailors who 
 would all light for a Wynton. But it will 
 not nf'cd, for Hiram can protect you of 
 himself." 
 
 " But how sliall I find tliis Hiram 
 BijQgh'y, or how uiakn him put trust in 
 nie'r* for T know iiim not, nor does he 
 know me." 
 
 " You will proceed in this wise. Master 
 Walter. At the lower end of Gravel Lane, 
 near the water, there is a house of public
 
 166 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 entertainment for the godlier sort of sea- 
 men ; 'tis called the * Anchor of Salvation,' 
 and is kept by Hezeldah Hope, a godly 
 woman, and steadfast in the faith if there 
 ever was one. To her you v^ill say : ' Tom 
 of the Woods salutes thee, in the name of 
 thy father and his old friend Ephraim 
 Dwight, and by the nmnber and token 
 Thirty-five, and bids thee let me have 
 speech of the true man Hiram Bingley : ' 
 — and when Hiram comes, which he will 
 presently do (he hath a cut very like my 
 own across his right brow), you will say to 
 him : ' I have befriended Tom of the 
 Woods when he hath been in trouble, and 
 now that I am in trouble Tom has sent me 
 hither to be sheltered and succoured by 
 thee : the number and token is eleven, 
 being that of the Apostles, to the exclu- 
 sion of the traitor Judas Iscariot.' And 
 having once said these words, Master 
 Walter, you will be safe. You may reach 
 Wapping Stairs long before the news of 
 what has been done upon Plumstead 
 Common reaches Whitehall. But get 
 down to Woolwich, and take boat immedi- 
 ately. Others may tremble, but the son of 
 Captain Wynton hath nothing to fear from 
 the sailors on the river," 
 
 " And whither wilt thou betake thyself, 
 poor Tom ? " asked Walter. 
 
 " Oh, I am safe in any part of this well- 
 wooded country of Kent, and I have had
 
 A FIGHT AND A FLIGHT. 167 
 
 visions that I shall be wanted hereabouts, 
 or, mayhap, on the other side of Gad's 
 Hill." 
 
 "But how shall I find thee again, or 
 hear of thee ? " 
 
 To this the Prophet of the Woods 
 replied by giving Walter some more names, 
 pass-words, and numbers, which the young 
 man wrote on his tablets, together with 
 those which he Avas to make use of in 
 Ratcliffe Highway. 
 
 By this time Faittout had come to, at 
 least so far as to be able to sit up among 
 the furze into which he had fallen ; but 
 his face was almost as yellow as the flowers 
 of the broom, and he was looking about 
 him with wild, half-dreamy eyes. The 
 prophet's oaken staff liad driven out of 
 the poor fellow's head all the little 
 English that had ever been in it, and he 
 could only say in French — " Where is my 
 master — where are the horses — wliere is 
 my unlucky mast<?r? " Walter made him 
 rise, and leading him to the edge of 
 the pit into which Sir Ralph had fallen, 
 he point^'d downwiird with his finger and 
 Haid — "There!" witliout looking into tho 
 chasm. Tom then took Master Walter by 
 the arm, and led liiiii willi liasty steps to 
 the woftd from which Ik! hail enierg(Ml at 
 the most critical moment of Ihe fight. 
 The wood at that tim(! reached nearly to 
 the bank of the river. As they went
 
 168 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 through it, Tom comforted Walter by 
 repeating his assurances that he would 
 commmiicate both with Captain Wynton 
 and with Marion Hemingford. On the 
 lower skirt of the wood, by the marshes, 
 they parted, the prophet with the staff in 
 his hand plunging back into the wilderness, 
 and the young sailor striding with agitated 
 steps down to the river side ; for his blood 
 had now cooled, and he could not think 
 without horror of having taken the life of a 
 fellow-being in a private quarrel. As he 
 was getting into a boat, which was not 
 procured without difficulty, a number of 
 mutinous seamen recognised him, and 
 shouted — " Ah, Master Walter, things 
 would not have come to this pass with us 
 if Captain Wynton had been left to com- 
 mand our ship, with you for his lieutenant ! 
 Master Walter, we be starving ! Remem- 
 ber this when j^ou hear blame and shame 
 thrown upon us ! " 
 
 Walter threw the poor fellows a little 
 money, and then, taking the boat's rudder 
 in his hand, he bade the watermen pull 
 away as hard as they could for Wapping 
 Old Stairs. 
 
 Before sunset Walter was securely 
 lodged with Hiram Bingley.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wapping. 
 
 Upon the river, and all through Wapping 
 and the populous neighbourhood of E,at- 
 cliffe Highway, Walter had seen nothing 
 but distressing sights. The king's ships 
 seemed to be either deserted by their 
 crews or in the hands of mutineers; the 
 flags of several of them were hoisted half- 
 mast high, as if in mourning, and on theii- 
 black broadsides were chalked the words, 
 " Money ! Money ! No more tickets ! 
 Bread for our wives and children ! " The 
 trading vessels lay huddled together in 
 idle and disorderly tiers, with their top- 
 masts struck and with great birch-brooms 
 lioistf'd as if to intiuiale that they were all 
 for sale ; and at times a roar of angry 
 voices came from these tiers of merchant- 
 men, saying, "Hen; is a pretty sight! The 
 traders of England rannot go to sea be- 
 cause of the Dutch ! Go tell this at 
 Whitehall ! The Hag of England has 
 become a dirty nxi^l The mariners of 
 England l)e all starving!" On siiore tho 
 same cries, or worse, were heard ; and the 
 haggard looks and dirty ragged clothes of 
 thousands of men, women, and children in
 
 170 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 the streets seemed to confirm the truth of 
 the outcries. These were things to drive 
 a true EngHshman, and a born sailor like 
 Walter Wynton, to distraction. But what 
 agitated him still more was the evidence, 
 now almost everywhere given, that the 
 seamen had become indifferent to the 
 honoiu" of their country — dead to the 
 national pride, without which there can 
 be no nation. In nearly every open space 
 he saw groups of tattered sailors, listening 
 with sullen, but assenting countenances, 
 to some demagogue and fanatic, who was 
 openly preaching that England was a 
 doomed and ruined country; that the 
 curse of the Almighty was upon it ; that 
 the heaviest of judgments was approach- 
 ing ; and that the mariners had better go 
 and join the Dutch, who were a Protestant 
 people, and who paid their men, than go 
 out and fight against them for a Court 
 and Government that were bringing in 
 Popery, and that paid nobody. Walter 
 also found that his host Hiram Bingley 
 was a fanatic of the most determined kind, 
 one immeasurably more in extremes than 
 Tom of the Woods ; and he was not long 
 in discovering that Hiram's house — a 
 puzzle of a place, which seemed all made 
 up of crooked passages, double doors, and 
 cellars with many mysterious outlets — was 
 a downi'ight conventicle and concihabulum, 
 wherein were discussed the wildest doc-
 
 WAPPIKG. 171 
 
 trines of the Fifth Monarchy men, and 
 wherein were hatcliing plots of the most 
 desperate description. He saw that to 
 attempt to reason witli these hig-h-priests 
 of anarch}' would be worse than useless ; 
 but he could not stay among them ; he 
 would rather be apprehended and hanged 
 for murder; and on the second morning 
 after his arrival, while Hiram was asleep, 
 and in a dream wrestling with the Lord 
 for a blessing, he left a piece of money on 
 a table, threw an old boat-cloak over his 
 dress, put on a sailor's cap, and stole out 
 of the hous3 in Gravel Lane. He knew 
 not whither to go, but ho was scarcely at 
 the top of tlie lane when he was carried 
 away by a great crowd that was rushing 
 to the middle of Eatclitfo Highway, shout- 
 ing and scroaniing, " Hey ! hey for Joel 
 Wyko ! Joel is af(Xjt at the Cross to teU 
 us what to do. Joel says the hour is 
 come ! " 
 
 Walter presently found himself within 
 sight and oar-shot of that sea-lawyor, 
 whose sour visa go liad so often disturbed 
 the dreams of the Clerk of the Acts of the 
 Navy. J(»o] was mounted on the top of a 
 groat tul) or butt, witli a Bible in oik's 
 hand and a cutlass in tlio otlior; and the 
 doctrine he was expounding, being stripped 
 of its cant and blasphemy and frantic 
 rhetoric, came; simply to this — that the 
 starving and God-fearing sailors ought
 
 172 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 that morning to go and meet the Dutch, 
 and give them welcome and assistance. 
 The Dutch fleet he assured them was 
 cruising between Harwich and the North 
 Foreland, with many righteous English- 
 men on board ; and as for the means of 
 conveyance down the river, he told his 
 auditors that there was a large armed 
 lugger lying off Limehouse Stairs which 
 had been for many days in the hands of 
 his friends ; that there were three fly-boats 
 or tenders which might be seized ; and 
 that they could also take such merchant- 
 vessels as they thought best; and that 
 there was not anywhere between Wapping 
 and the Nore a single king's ship that was 
 in a state to oppose their departure. 
 
 A tall, thin, very hungry-looking sailor 
 cried, " Then let us sheer off without any 
 more parlaver ! If we stay the length of 
 another day's log I shall not have strength 
 enough left in me to get up the Dutch- 
 man's side. Let us trip anchor and away 
 at once, without j)l^y^^& ' Loth to 
 depart.' " 
 
 " Ay,'* cried another man's voice in the 
 crowd, "let us be gone with this turn of 
 tide. The Dutch have dollars for us, as 
 well as meat and drink, and they are only 
 wearing off and on, waiting for us to show 
 them how to do the trick at Sheerness and 
 Chatham — and then, my boys, up for 
 London again with de Ruyter."
 
 WAPPING. 173 
 
 Here some hems, and coughs, and 
 murmurs were heard ; but it was clearly 
 an overwhelming majority that shouted 
 " Let us weigh and begone, and sing no 
 ' Loth to depart.' It is hard to be sorry 
 when we are running from starvation." 
 
 Walter, who could not imagine that the 
 Government or anybody connected with it 
 coxild be aware of this desperation, or 
 believe that any extremity would drive an 
 English seaman to fight under an enemy's 
 flag, now resolved to seek out Mr. Pepys, 
 and, at whatsoever hazard to himself, to 
 reveal all that he had just heard in the 
 highway — which he might very well do 
 without any breach of confidence to Hiram 
 Bingley and his friends in Gravel Lane, 
 who, madmen as tliey were, had behaved 
 to him with much kindness, and had 
 pledged their livps for the defence of his. 
 But Master Walter had got so wedged in 
 the crowd that he could scarcely move; 
 and in trying to oxtricate himself the old 
 boat-cloak was torn from his shoulders, his 
 slouching cap was knocked off, and he 
 stood revealed in the garb of a gentleman. 
 That instant a hand as hard as a marlin- 
 spike was at his tliroat, and tlie cry was 
 set up of "Spy ! a spy among us ! Let us 
 hang him before we go ! " 
 
 "I'll bo bilborxl if you do," Cried Will 
 Gaff. " This young gf^ntleman is Master 
 Walter Wynton, the son of my old
 
 174 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 commander, Captain Wynton, and if you 
 don't know liim. Jack, there is many an 
 honest man here that does, or may I never 
 taste grog again ! " 
 
 A score or more sailors that were 
 nearest instantly declared that it was 
 Master Walter Wynton, and none but he, 
 and that there was nowhere a better 
 friend to the poor sailor. And in the 
 heat and fulness of their heart they all 
 swore that he could only be there for a 
 good purpose, and that no man should 
 touch a hair of his head. Jack let go his 
 grip as soon as the name of Wynton was 
 first pronounced. Joel, on his tub, waved 
 his hand and raised his voice to restore 
 quiet — for the long-winded rascal had not 
 half finished his proposed speech — and, 
 after censuring the men who had used 
 such ungodly oaths, he proposed that 
 Master Walter should stand forth and 
 explain why he was there in disguise. 
 
 " That will he do presently, like the 
 true gentleman that he is," cried Will 
 Gaif . "■ Make way, and lend your ear to 
 Master Walter, whose father so often 
 belaboured Dutch, French, and Spaniards. 
 So now Joel Wyke just break off your 
 yarn and splice it again anon, and step 
 down from your forecastle, aiid let the son 
 of our old fighting captain give us a word 
 of discourse." 
 
 Walter, who was now close to the foot
 
 WAPPING. 1 75 
 
 of Joel's rostrum, was considerably per- 
 plexed, for he must begin with confessing 
 his duel, and he had never in his life tried 
 to address a mob or any other assemblage 
 either from a tub-head or from any other 
 spouting-place ; but Will Gaff whispered 
 in his ear, " Get up, Master Walter, and 
 stand to your quarters for old England ! 
 Tell them it is better to starve than to go 
 fight against their own flag, and betray all 
 our weakness to the enemy." 
 
 Thus urged by Gaff, and called upon by 
 many others, Walter mounted the rostrum, 
 from which Joel Wyke had very sulkily 
 descended. 
 
 " Shipmates ! " said Walter, " the 
 reason of my being here slightly dis- 
 guised is very soon told. I have killed in 
 single combat an insolent cavalier, one of 
 the King's courtiers. . . ." 
 
 " If you had killed the King as well, 
 and the Duke after liim, it would have 
 been better! " cried several voices at once. 
 
 " If you liav<; slain a courtier, and are at 
 feud with the Court, and are in danger of 
 its vengeance, then will you be a friend to 
 the seamen's (,'ause, and away with us to 
 the Dntch, and give a helping band in the 
 overthrowing of tiiis defeslabh.' and 
 popishly-iiK'lined Government," said Joel 
 Wyke. " Young man, 1 think you have 
 said enough, and may now steji down aJid 
 let me iijiish that which 1 was saying."
 
 176 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 " Not yet, not just yet," shouted Will 
 Gaff ; " go on. Master Walter." 
 
 And Walter went on. " You mistake 
 me," said he, " if you think that any 
 extremity would drive me to bear arms 
 against my country. I do not shut my 
 eyes to the lamentable errors and sins of 
 the present Government, which hath 
 brought such shame upon England. I have 
 taken into my own hands the right of 
 punishing one who heaped insult upon the 
 hoary head of my father, and did me other 
 wrongs, and for this act — as lean hardly 
 hope for an impartial trial — I may, if 
 seized anywhere in England, be brought 
 to an opprobrious death ; yet, rather than 
 join you in going to the Dutch, I would 
 be hanged three times over, if I had three 
 lives to throw away. I learned my sea- 
 politics in the school of the unselfish and 
 heroical Blake, who struck down the inso- 
 lent broom from Van Tromp's mast-head, 
 and did battle for various, and quickly 
 varying, English Governments. It was 
 Blake's saying, that it was not the business 
 of sailors to mind State affairs, but to keep 
 foreigners from fooling us . , . ." 
 
 " Ay," said an old sailor, " and at the 
 command of the statesmen that now are, 
 the bones and scarcely mouldering flesh of 
 the great Blake were dug out of their 
 grave and cast out of Westminster Abbey, 
 as if they had been the remains of a traitor
 
 WAPPING. 177 
 
 or of some unclean animal. I — I who fought 
 under Blake in twenty victorious fights — 
 saw the mortal part of my great com- 
 mander thus treated, and the sight filled 
 my mouth with curses, and my heart with 
 bitterness, and with hatred of this restored 
 Government." 
 
 This short speech of the old sailor excited 
 the mob so much that there was a hooting 
 and yelling which lasted for some minutes. 
 When the noise subsided, Walter said, " I 
 too saw that miseemly sight, and loathed 
 it as much as any man that saw it. But 
 Blake had a soul to despise such paltry 
 malignity. They might cast out the mortal 
 fragments of the man upon the dung-heap, 
 but they can never destroy his fame, or 
 the memory and love of him in the heart 
 of every true English sailor. If Blake 
 could speak from the grave, he would still 
 tell ye to stand by your country's flag, 
 however the country may be misgoverned ; 
 he would toll yr)u to look to English hearts 
 and English hands for the redress of 
 grievances and the reformation of the 
 State, but to die rather tlian help to destroy 
 your rtwii Navy and briiig a foreign fo«» — 
 the Dutch, whom h«', with your good aid, 
 so often beat — inU) the heart of our 
 country." 
 
 The young orator was evidently making 
 somf; impression cvon upon the worst part 
 of that turbulent audience ; but Joel Wyke 
 
 12
 
 178 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 twanged loudly through his nose, " But 
 there is no longer any country left ! This 
 is not our Israel^ but a land of prelates 
 and Philistines. We may no longer wor- 
 ship the Lord after our own hearts. It 
 offers to us, the chosen and the godly, 
 nothing but scourges and pillories, the 
 prison and the gallows ! It is no longer 
 our country, and we have no birthright 
 in it." 
 
 The fanatics said, " Yea ! and Amen ! " 
 But these men, who had been preached out 
 of their senses, were far fewer in number 
 than those whom sheer hunger had driven 
 out of their patriotism; and the orator 
 who closed the debate was that tall, lank, 
 and very hungry-looking seaman, who now 
 said, "The young gentleman who hath 
 spoken so prettily is not starving, and we 
 are. Therefore let us cast loose and be off 
 to get food while we can, and let us carry 
 this Master Walter with us, will he nill he, 
 for we may want a knowing officer a-board ; 
 and if he stay here the chances are, upon 
 his own showing, that he will be taken and 
 hanged for killing one of those scoundrels 
 who have turned our bountiful old mother 
 into a cruel step-mother, and have made 
 England no country for us." 
 
 Walter sprang to the spot where Will 
 Gaff was standing, laid his hand to the 
 hilt of his sword, and shouted, " Stand by 
 me, all ye that have English hearts, and
 
 WAPPING. 179 
 
 this great shame shall not fall upon our 
 flag ! " 
 
 But alas! though WiU Gaff had a 
 majority in the riot at the Navy-office, he 
 was woefully in the minority now ; for 
 three months of Avant and misery to the 
 men, and of broken promises and crirainal 
 neglect in the Government, had wrought 
 the most pernicious effects. There seemed 
 not one man in twenty to answer Will 
 Gaff's calls of " Rescue Master Walter ! 
 let us not be traitors to England ! " 
 
 Joel Wyke and other desperadoes seized 
 both Walter and Will Gaff, and tied their 
 arms behind them ; a voice cried, " Speaker 
 Joel, no more speeches ; we shall lose the 
 tide : " and the dense mob began to roll 
 along the highway like water through an 
 open floodgate, carrying with it whatever 
 lies in its course. As soon as the rush 
 began, some fellows in the rear, either 
 believing or inventing the case, sliouted, 
 " Get on there aliead — the King's cut- 
 throats are coniing down upon us from 
 the Tower ; we hear horses galloping and 
 swords rattling ! " At tliis cry the 
 torrent nislind on more rsipidly and wildly 
 than befon; ; tliftse who wen' unwilling to 
 go with tlie mutineers, or unable through 
 weakness to keep pace with them, were 
 thrown domi and tranijdcd injd<'r foot, 
 and none stopped to h<'lp them. They 
 went through narrow intricate lanes down
 
 180 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 to the water-side and to Limehouse Stairs. 
 But before they got to the appointed place 
 of embarkation their numbers were 
 very materially diminished : some of the 
 men could not keep up their hearts to the 
 horrible intent ; some were moved from 
 their purjDOse by the prayers and tears of 
 their mothers and wives, who clung* to 
 them or pulled them in at their open doors 
 as they passed by their habitations ; and 
 others were deterred by their dread of the 
 gallows, and slipped away as they came to 
 the cross-lanes and alleys. But Walter 
 Wynton and Will GafE being in the head 
 of the torrent, bound and surrounded by 
 the most desperate men, and narrowly 
 watched by Joel Wyke himself, who kept 
 waving his cutlass and crymg, " The sword 
 of the Lord and of Gideon ! " could no- 
 where see the slightest chance of escaping ; 
 and when they reached the stairs, and 
 Walter would have made a last effort to 
 bring the men back to a sense of their 
 duty to their country, Joel and that other 
 lean sailor who had distinguished himself 
 at the Cross rudely and brutally gagged 
 him with a neckerchief. 
 
 The armed lugger, with her guns run 
 out, and with a black flag instead of a 
 blue-peter flying at her top, lay right ofP 
 the stairs, and seemed mistress of all that 
 part of the river : boats were in readiness 
 to carry off the mutineers, and while they
 
 WAPPING. 181 
 
 were embarking in large parties, two 
 sloops which had been serving as tiy-boats 
 or tenders to the King's fleet, crossed the 
 river and lay to. Walter and Will Gaff 
 were carried off to the lugger in the first 
 boat; and Avhen the rapid embarkation 
 was finished, from two hundred to three 
 hundred sailors were shipped in the lugger 
 or in the two fly-boats. More than a 
 hundred had stolen awa}'' from the wharf 
 at the last moment; and one party had 
 put back when they were almost alongside 
 the lugger. But though there were several 
 King's ships at hand, not the slightest 
 opposition was offered ; and as the muti- 
 neers got under sail, such seamen as were 
 left on board the merchant-ships gave 
 them three cheers. To such a temper had 
 a thoughtless and base Government broujjht 
 the brave mariners of England ! It had 
 taken seven years to do it, but the woful 
 consummation had come at last. 
 
 Fav(nired by wind as well as by tide, 
 the mutinous flotilla ran rapidly down the 
 river with the black flag at the mizen, and 
 the national standard dragging over their 
 poops as a tiling (1islK>nouro(l and disownod. 
 Still no ftpposiiion was offered io their 
 progress. Between Greenwich and Dept- 
 ford there lay a good many King's ships, 
 and somf of thf highest rate tlien known ; 
 but for the most part they had neither 
 powder nor shot on board ; and some were
 
 182 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 deserted by their crews, and the captains 
 and officers of others were away, amusing 
 themselves at the courtly end of London. 
 One sturdy old captain got a great gun 
 loaded and pointed at the armed lugger ; 
 but his men gathered round the breech of 
 the gun, and swore that it should not be 
 fired at their countrymen and brothers, 
 who were only seeking how to escape from 
 starvation. 
 
 As the lugger shot into Erith reach and 
 allowed Walter's eye to rest for a few 
 minutes upon the ivyed church, and the 
 village, and the mansion of Sir John 
 Roundtree standing on the green hill 
 behind, among the old patriarchal trees, 
 he was so overcome with his feelings, that 
 he would have thrown himself over the 
 mutinous ship's side, and, pinioned and 
 gagged as he was, have tried to swim 
 ashore, if he had not been prevented by 
 some of the sailors. In the Upper Hope 
 there were more frigates and ships of the 
 line ; and again in the Lower Hope there 
 were King's ships ; but their condition was 
 not better than that which has been 
 described already ; and onward the mu- 
 tineers went, without hindrance or chal- 
 lenge. At the Nore and the mouth of the 
 Medway there were no guardshij)S — they 
 had been ordered up the Medway to look 
 for a shameful protection from land-forts 
 and certain other contemptible defences.
 
 WAPPING. 183 
 
 As the lugger stood into the mouth of that 
 liver, to enable Joel Wyke and his friends 
 to reconnoitre, a few shot were fired at 
 her from the fort at Sheerness, but the 
 balls, which had been made for guns of a 
 different calibre, fell wide of their mark, 
 and only made some splashes in the 
 water ; and ha\ing seen all that they wanted 
 to see, the mutineers stood off with insult- 
 ing cheers. 
 
 From the mouth of the Medway the 
 flotilla made for the Essex coast and the 
 mouth of the Orwell, expectmg to find a 
 part of the Dutch fleet off Harwich, or off 
 Landguard fort. In the latter part of 
 their course not a ship of any flag was to 
 be seen ; the whole commerce of England 
 was palsied, and even the few fishing- 
 boats that were afloat were hugging the 
 coast, in evident fear of quitting it. As 
 they got into that rougli water not inaptly 
 namfvl "tlie Devil's Bowling-green," they 
 heard at long intervals a gun fired at sea, 
 but the sound came from a distant quarter, 
 and not a sail was to be seen. 
 
 " Those heavy-l)roeched Dutchmen are 
 always behind time," said some of the 
 mutineers. 
 
 " Mayhap," said Joel Wyke, " they 
 have nilHapprclnMided signals, and a part 
 of them may hav<! gone round the North 
 Foreland Ui southward, to make sure that 
 we have no ships in the Downs. Put a
 
 184 THE DUTCH IN THE 3IEDWAV. 
 
 stopper on jour blasphemy, and we will 
 send a fly-boat for to see, and then have 
 prayers on board and crave the Lord's 
 blessing on Avhat we are about." 
 
 Some of the tars said they would rather 
 have a dram of the bottle ; others, that 
 they would rather not have God's name 
 mentioned in the business — for, albeit they 
 had done what they had done and wei-e 
 a-doing, they were rather afraid that, next 
 to hunger, it was the devil that had most 
 to do in it ; and others said that they had 
 better make at once for the Dogger Bank, 
 as they must starve or go a-plundering on 
 shore if the Mynheers delayed coming, 
 there being absolutely nothing on board, 
 except water and a few motddy biscuits. 
 Joel Wyke, however, succeeded in sending 
 away one of the fly-boats to look round 
 the North Foreland. Walter and Will 
 Gaff were now unbound ; but they were 
 forced down into the cabin and there con- 
 fined, two desperadoes, with cutlasses in 
 their hands, mounting guard at the cabin 
 door. Joel was still afraid that if the 
 young officer were allowed to speak with 
 the men he might make them relent, and 
 cause a new mutiny among his mutineers. 
 
 The sun was now setting behind the 
 Essex hills, and the breeze began to 
 freshen from the south-east, making a still 
 heavier swell in that unpleasant Bowling- 
 green. The night came on rather dark
 
 WAPPING. 185 
 
 and hazy, clouds covered the moon, and a 
 hank of sea-fog concealed the coast of 
 Essex and Suffolk. About the midnight 
 watch some more firing was heard. It was 
 like the firing of signal-guns ; but, 
 although the sound seemed to proceed from 
 a nearer quarter, it was stiU far out at 
 sea. There was great anxiety and com- 
 motion on board the lugger, which either 
 la}' to, or kept standing off and on. In 
 one of their tacks the mutineers saw a red 
 light glimmering through the mist, and 
 at the sight some score of them set up a 
 wretched cry, that it was a King's ship 
 coming down upon them, and that to save 
 their lives they ought to run their lugger 
 ashore and then abandon her. The liffht 
 came from a little fishing-boat : but an 
 evil conscience had taken the lieart out of 
 these naturally brave fellows. That short 
 summer's night, however, soon wore away, 
 and as the disc of the sun began to appear 
 above the broad waters, a morniiig-gTm 
 was heard lK)oniing at no great distance; 
 and, shortly after, tall masts and sails 
 were seen slowly rising to the north-east, 
 behind Orfonln OSS ; and by the time the 
 sun was fairly rison more tlian twenty sail 
 were seen, stretching in a long loose line 
 from north to south. The sun shone out 
 majestically ; the wind had changed ; the 
 fresh morning ])rf'07,(' swept away the last 
 
 remnant of the sea-fog: it was a glorious
 
 186 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 June day ; and land and sea, the one with 
 its towns and villages, and the other with 
 the great ships upon it, were cheerful and 
 beautiful to the eye. 
 
 As Walter looked out at the narrow 
 cabin-window he forgot for a moment 
 that he was in the hands of mutineers and 
 traitors, and that those proud and fair 
 ships that were standing on in the most 
 beautiful and seamanlike order for the 
 broad and silvery estuary of the Thames, 
 were carrying dishonour and destruction 
 for his comitry : but he was soon made 
 acutely sensible to all this woe ; for the 
 lugger stood away to meet the nearest of 
 the Dutch ships of war, and as she got 
 under her lee the mutineers gave three 
 cheers, and were answered with three 
 cheers by the Dutchmen. Boats were 
 lowered, and Joel Wyke told Walter and 
 Will Gaff that they must go in the first 
 boat to the Dutch ship. It was vain to 
 remonstrate, for the lugger was right mider 
 the guns of the Dutchman. As Gaff went 
 over the side he shook his fist at Joel 
 "SVyke and said — " This is dirty work, Joel ! 
 Thou hast brought iis to a pretty pass, thou 
 foul sea-lawyer ! But look to thyself, for 
 I have a notion that thou wilt get thy 
 brains knocked out before this is over ! " 
 Joel grinned a malicious grin to express 
 his triumph over his rival orator Will ; and 
 then putting on his demiu-est and most
 
 WAPPING. 
 
 187 
 
 sanctified face, he twanged through his 
 nose — " It is the Lord's will — all this is the 
 will of the Lord, and the Lord will protect 
 His own." 
 
 The Dutch captain and most of his 
 ofl&cers behaved with delicacy and kindness 
 to Walter Wynton, as soon as they learned 
 his story, which he told in brief indignant 
 language. 
 
 " I cannot put you on shore," said the 
 captain, " and I must not let you prevent 
 these starvelings and desperadoes of your 
 countrymen from assisting us in the enter- 
 prise we have in hand, and which we would 
 hardly have undertaken if King Charles 
 had not driven these sailors desperate and 
 so sent them to help us ; but as an officer 
 and gentleman I will call upon you for no 
 service whatsoever against your country, 
 nor request more from you than that you 
 will ]jo silent — strictly silent and neutral, 
 for I have so many Englishors on board 
 that . . . ." 
 
 Here thf Butch captain stopped short 
 and redd(.'n('d a little. When he continued, 
 he paid that Walter was free to use his 
 cabin and tlu; (piarter-deck, and that he 
 sliould JKiv*' his sword, wliicli he perceived 
 the nnitinecrs bad taken i'rom him ; and 
 he concluded tlie conversation by saying — 
 •' Last year your Sir Robert Holmes sur- 
 pnsed and burned with his fire-ships one 
 liundred and seventy of our lielpltss mer-
 
 188 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 chant vessels under Ulie and Schevling, 
 and this year, d'ye see, we mean to pay 
 you back by burning a few of your men-of- 
 war at Chatham and Deptford : so now, 
 young- gentleman, take a glass of Schiedam 
 and down with me to breakfast." 
 
 As he had tasted nothing for the last 
 four-and-twenty hours, Walter hastily 
 swallowed a few mouthfuls. The Dutch 
 captain, in his eagerness to do his own 
 duty and gain information for the guidance 
 of his admiral, forgot his dehcacy so far 
 as to put some questions about the de- 
 fences on tlie river Thames, and the 
 state of preparation of the King's ships 
 that were lying up that river ; but 
 Walter soon stopped these queries by 
 reminding the Dutchman that he had 
 promised to be strictly silent and neutral 
 so long as he remained a prisoner on 
 board the ship. 
 
 In the meanwhile Joel Wyke had trans- 
 ferred nearly all his men from the lugger 
 and the fly-boat to the Dutch ship, and 
 had received a sum of money in hard 
 dollars to distribute among them. The 
 hiuigry mutineers had, moreover, received 
 abundant rations, and whole kegs of Dutch 
 gin. Although many of them had kept 
 out of sight between-decks, it was easy for 
 Walter, on returning to the quarter-deck, 
 to discover that there were many more 
 Englishmen on board than Joel had
 
 WAPPING. 189 
 
 brought. Some of these men were sitting- 
 between the gims, discussing doctrinal 
 points, interjjreting prophecies, and promis- 
 ing to each other the speedy coming of the 
 reign of the Saints. These were Fifth- 
 Monarchy men, whose sheer fanaticism 
 had made them traitors. There were 
 Anabaptists, who regarded John of 
 Munster as a saint and martyr ; there 
 were a few Adamites, who thought that 
 righteousness consisted in going stark 
 naked, mthout so much as a fig-leaf, as 
 Adam did before the fall; there were 
 Salmonites, or the followers of one Salmon, 
 a mad preacher of Coventry, who had held 
 that swearing and cursing, and all manner 
 of carnal sin ami dissoluteness, were not 
 only allowable but commendable, foras- 
 much as it was natural for men to gratify 
 their natural appetites, and no man could 
 curse and swfar unless God allowed it; 
 there were Wykites, or the disciple of one 
 Wyke (a first cousin to (mr ju-quaintance 
 Joel), who had reduced all the doctrines and 
 rites of religion into throo hugs and three 
 kisses, with which hf; pn^tended that the 
 Heavenly Spirit might be breathed into 
 any man or any woman. ApaH from 
 these were other groups of old soa-men, 
 witli faces equally sour and austere, who 
 were talking of kirks, presbyters and 
 elders, covfiianls and John TCnox. These 
 were Presbyterians, and mostly Scotsmen,
 
 190 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 ■who abhorred their brother deserters the 
 Fifth-Monarchy men, and their doctrines, 
 as much as they did the Episcopalian 
 Church, from whose tyramiy they all 
 declared themselves to have fled. There 
 were men of other sects of the most 
 fantastic and yet fanatic character, who 
 all pretended that they were fighting for 
 religious liberty, although there was not 
 one of them but would have wielded the 
 sword of persecution if it had been strong 
 enough — not one but would fain have 
 attempted to impose its rule of faith, 
 doctrine, and worship upon all the rest, 
 and upon the whole of the three nations of 
 England, Scotland, and Ireland : — 
 
 " Sui-e I have the tnith," says Numph ; 
 
 " Nay, I have the truth," says Clem ; 
 
 " Nay, I have the truth," says reverend Ruth ; 
 
 " Nay, I have the truth," says Nem. 
 
 There were also men who had been driven 
 to their present madness by their Re- 
 publican enthusiasm, or by an enthusiasm 
 for some other untried mode of govern- 
 ment; but, after all, the far greater 
 number of these English deserters, or 
 traitors, were simple men, who troubled 
 their heads very little either about rules of 
 faith or forms of government, and whose 
 logic lay all in their stomachs. 
 
 As the fleet proceeded under easy sail, 
 the fly-boat whicli Joel had sent round the
 
 WAPPING. 191 
 
 North Foreland, came back with certain 
 intelligence that there were no English 
 men-of-war there, and with the report that, 
 with the exception of a few French men- 
 of-war (the allies of the Dutch), there was 
 no ship in the Channel. Some of the 
 English sailors were now removed from 
 the ship in which Walter Wjoiton had the 
 misery to be, to other vessels in the Dutch 
 fleet, which had kept concentrating, and 
 so increasing in number that Walter could 
 now count, within a narrow compass, more 
 than forty sail of all rates. Never did 
 sailor returning home from a long voyage 
 wish so passionately for a fair wind as 
 Walter now wished for a foul one. He 
 prayed for a storm — for a tempest to 
 scatter this proud armament, and so save 
 the flag of England from this disgrace; 
 but the summer wind blew softly and 
 favourably for the Dutch, whose mighty 
 fleet still kf'pt increasing. Admiral de 
 Ru^'ter had brouglit the whole of his fleet 
 out of the Wicrings, and the rest of the 
 ships from the Texel had joined, or were 
 joining him, inider the command of Van 
 Ghent, who had been running all along 
 our eastom coast, from tli<' mouth of the 
 Orwell to the Frith of Fortli, and, to dis- 
 tract attention, caiiiioiiii(liiig liurnt Island, 
 and menacing our 8liipi»ing in Leith Har- 
 bour, so tliat it was with eiglity sail of 
 men-of-war luid many fire-ships tliat the
 
 192 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Dutch bore up for the Nore, to the 
 great consternation of the people of 
 Kent, who were seen flying from all the 
 villages and houses near the sea, and run- 
 ning up into the country with their mov- 
 able property.
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 The Medway. 
 
 It was on the morning of the tenth of 
 June that de Euyter and Van Ghent came 
 up the Nore. While some of their ships 
 were ordered to prej^are for the attack of 
 the contemptible fortifications of Sheerness, 
 upon which the Government relied for the 
 security of the river Medway and the ships 
 and the dockyards at Chatham, others were 
 sent up the Thames. The latter division, 
 fu'ing off great guns, which were distinctly 
 heard in the city of London, proceeded 
 almost as far as Gravesend ; and might 
 have gone up much higher if they had 
 but been a little bolder, there being scarcely 
 anything to offer them a valid resistance. 
 In Tilbury Fort there were many guns, but 
 scarcely any powdor; and bfyond, some 
 bulwarks which had been hastily thro^vii 
 up on the other side of the river, and 
 which could not have withstood the fire of 
 a single sliip for half an liour. Tlicr*; was 
 powder, but scarcely any guns; and the 
 force here statif»ned consisted wholly of 
 " a great many idhj lords and gentlemen 
 with their pistols and fooleries." But 
 these Dutchmen, after making a terrible 
 
 13
 
 194 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 hubbub, and scaring- away the people from 
 Gravesend and Erith, and from all the 
 to-vvns and villages on either bank of the 
 river, fell down from the Lower Hoj)e and 
 Shellhaven, and joined their comrades at 
 Sheemess. Those contemptible works 
 were attacked in the evening, and were 
 laid even with the ground and carried in 
 about two hours. There were brave men 
 and some excellent English oflScers who had 
 fought behind those miserable works ; but 
 they were few in number and were totally 
 unprovided with the means of defending 
 that important and vital position. As they 
 retreated across the Isle of Sheppey the 
 Dutch lowered their boats and landed a 
 great number of men, land troops as well 
 as sailors, and took possession of Sheer- 
 ness, as if with the intention of fortifying 
 it and keeping it. 
 
 De Ruyter was a brave and most sturdy 
 officer; he had shown an indomitable 
 courage in a score of great battles, and he 
 had displayed wonderful fortitude in 
 adverse circumstances ; but he had some 
 of the slowness and excess of circumspec- 
 tion which it has been the fashion to 
 attribute to his countrymen. His present 
 delays did not save England from disgrace, 
 but they greatly diminished his power of 
 doing mischief. After lying a whole day 
 at the Nore before ^ commencing his attack 
 on iSheerness, he remained another day
 
 THE MED WAT. 195 
 
 and two nights at that place, apparently 
 doing nothing at all beyond sending one 
 Doleman, a proscribed English Republican^ 
 with a party of English mutineers, across 
 the Isle of Sheppey, to make a fruitless 
 attempt to excite the men of Kent to in- 
 surrection against King Charles. And 
 althousrh everything remained to the last 
 in a frightful state of disorder (not one 
 man in a hundred in the service of the 
 EngUsh Government doing his duty, or 
 knowing how to do it), some part of the 
 time which the Dutch allowed them was 
 advantageously employed by the English. 
 On Tuesday, June 11, General Monk — 
 now Duke of Albemarle and Commander- 
 in Chief of tlie land forces, who had been 
 sent by the King to perform duties and 
 to make defences which ought to have 
 been intrusted not to a land but to a sea 
 commander, or rather which ought not to 
 have been needed at all — arrived at Cliat- 
 ham, and found that of twelve liundred 
 men employed in the dockyard, four hun- 
 dred had fled, and that those who 
 remained were so distracted with fear or 
 with famine, or so exasperated by want of 
 pay, that no good sorvico could be ex- 
 pect<jd from tbciii, Tliero was scarcely a 
 charge of gunpowder to be found, so that 
 Monk was obliged Uy send to Gravesend 
 for ammunition, which did not arrive 
 until two o'clock the next day. If the
 
 196 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Dutch had o-one upwards at once, not a 
 shot could have been fired against them ; 
 but they did nothing during the 11th but 
 take soundings among some sunken ships 
 which had been scuttled near the mouth 
 of the Medway in the absurd intention of 
 blocking up the broad and deep bed of the 
 river. But on the following^ morninsf — 
 the memorable morning of June 12 — a 
 very fresh wind from the north-east blew 
 over Sheerness and the Dutch fleet, and a 
 strong spring-tide set the same way as the 
 wind, raising and pouring the waters 
 upward from the broad estuary in a 
 mighty cui'rent. And now De Ruyter 
 roused himself from his inactivity, and 
 gave orders to his second in command. 
 Admiral Van Ghent, to ascend the river 
 towards Chatham with fire-ships and 
 fighting ships of various rates. Pre- 
 viously to the appearance of De 
 Ru3rter on our coasts, his Grace of 
 Albemarle had sunk a few vessels about 
 Muscle Bank, at the narrowest part of 
 the river, had constructed a boom, and 
 drawn a big iron chain across the river 
 from bank to bank, and within the boom 
 and chain he had stationed three King's 
 shij)S ; and having done these notable 
 things, he had written to Court that all 
 was safe on the Medway, and that the 
 Dutch would never be able to break through 
 his formidable defences. But now Van
 
 THE aiEDWAY. 
 
 19: 
 
 Ghent gave liis Grace the lie direct ; for, 
 favoured by the heady current and strong 
 vnnd, the prows of his ships broke through 
 the boom and ii'on chain as though they 
 had been cobwebs, and fell with an over- 
 whelming force upon the ill-manned and 
 iU-managed ships which had been brought 
 down the river to eke out this wretched 
 line of defence. The three ships, the 
 Unity, the Matthias, and the Charles the 
 Fifth, which had been taken from the 
 Dutch in the course of the preceding yeai 
 — the Annus Mirabilis of Dryden's flatter- 
 ing poem — were presently recaptured and 
 burned under the eyes of the Duke of 
 Albemarle, and of many thousands of 
 Englishmen wlio had gathered near the 
 banks of the Med way; but who had no 
 batteries, no mounted guns, no barges, no 
 boats, no moans whatever of taking part 
 in the action, or of preventing the disgrace 
 they witnessed. Monk was not devoid of 
 courage, and there was bravery enough, 
 and to spare, unumg tliose who surrounded 
 him. But wluit could it boot without 
 nautical skill, and without proper arms 
 and materials wherewith to fight? My 
 lord general kufw not what orders to give, 
 and those wliich he gave were not o])f'yed. 
 As Vau Gli'Mit was first approaching the 
 chain. Monk pointed to his King's ships, 
 and said with a flourish that it was the 
 duty of bravo iind loyal niori to dt^fond
 
 198 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 those vessels, and that such as were brave 
 and loyal would follow him and die on 
 board rather than see the ships taken and 
 destroyed. And immediately after this 
 speech he and a good number of volun- 
 teers put off in such skiffs as could be pro- 
 cured, and got on board the largest of the 
 three ships with nothing but swords or 
 pikes in their hands. But when they were 
 in the ship they found that they could do 
 nothing with her, and that they had better 
 get to shore again as fast as possible. 
 And it was well that they did so, for one 
 of Van Ghent's fire-ships came up, and 
 embraced with a death-hug that royal 
 ship ; and she and her two consorts, to- 
 gether with smidry merchant vessels laden 
 and ready for sea, were presently in a blaze. 
 Having done this exploit, and laughed at 
 the iron chain, the Dutchmen addressed 
 themselves to that right noble ship the 
 Royal Charles, which had been left down 
 the river in an exposed situation, and in 
 the most helpless condition, although, 
 many days, nay, weeks, before, strict orders 
 had been given by the Duke of York to 
 take her up to Chatham. 
 
 As Van Ghent wore round the point 
 opposite the Stray, with six-men-of-war 
 and five fire-ships, he opened a cannonade 
 rather upon the useless people on shore 
 than at the undefended ship ; and the 
 English renegadoes and fanatics that were
 
 THE MEDWAT. 199 
 
 serving witli him gave three tremendous 
 cheers, and uttered the most insulting 
 taunts. These men, who were otherwise 
 well informed of the state of affairs on 
 shore, and up the river, could, whenever 
 the smoke cleared away, easily distinguish 
 my lord general, with his baton of com- 
 mand in hand, riding liither and thither 
 with his brilliant but bewildered and 
 utterly useless staff ; and against him, as 
 the chief agent in the unconditional 
 restoration of Charles II., they directed 
 most of their invectives. 
 
 Speaker Joel made a long running com- 
 mentary. As his men let off the Dutch 
 guns and threw the balls on shore, he 
 shouted, " Master Monk ! here be beads 
 for thee to tell ! Take that, thou traitor 
 to God and man, and the true servants of 
 God ! Take that, false Monk ! and get 
 thee home to the drab ,thy wife, whofn 
 slaves do call my lady and duchess, 
 and tf'll hor, in lier own hmgniigo, that, 
 after all thy shillings and turnijigs, thou 
 hast brought thy hogs to a pretty market ! 
 Get thee hence, thou betrayer of tliy 
 country! And yo blust<'ring, va])()uring, 
 blasplK'ming cavaliers, get ye all hence 
 with liiin, for wliat deed can ye perform 
 here ? Ye could bring Sir Harry Vane to 
 the block, l)ut Iifre be blocks and tackle 
 ye cannot handle ! Ye could co]K|u<'r that 
 godly-wine-cooi>er Venner, in London, and
 
 200 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Oldroyd, that other servant of the saints, 
 in Yorkshire, — ye could hang up Rathbone 
 and Flint, and scores of godly but defence- 
 less men, as stoutly as Oliver or the Eump 
 could have done it ! Ye could make false 
 plots and Acts of Parliament to meet 
 them, and so destroy the disarmed ; but 
 your Acts of Parliament will not quench 
 these fires, or stop these cannon-balls ! 
 Since ye will not be gone, and since ye can 
 in no wise defend your country, then stay 
 and weep blood for the shame ye have 
 brought upon her. Ay ! foul Monk ! 
 stay there on the river bank, shaking thy 
 gold-headed stick, and see the Royal Navy 
 of England in flames, and hear the Dutch 
 roaring with their guns within hearing of 
 London ! Thou hast neither a hand to 
 help nor a heart to feel the misery and 
 infamy thou hast brought upon a betrayed 
 and ruined people ! But England will 
 mourn for this in sackcloth and ashes, and 
 thou and thv master will be rewarded for 
 it. Tophet'is hot ! " 
 
 Others of the deserters, as they eyed 
 their country's undefended and indefensible 
 ships, shouted to one another, " There, a 
 little higher u-p, lies old Blake's flag-ship, 
 — there lies our own old ship the Nasehy ; 
 — there's the Speaker; — there the tough 
 old Fairfax — there the lucky old Victory, 
 that we fought ten good battles in ; — but 
 have at 'em all ! — let 'em blaze in a heap,
 
 THE MEDWAY. 201 
 
 since they have changed their names, and 
 turned us adrift to starve ! So have at 
 'em, comrades ! We be fighting for 
 dollars now, and will get good change for 
 our old tickets before this brush be over ! 
 The man at Whitehall shall know what it 
 is to wi'onof the En"-lish sailors ! " 
 
 Much of this talk or outcry was dis- 
 tinctly heard by the Englishmen on shore, 
 the best of whom hung down their heads 
 in shame and confusion. But Walter 
 Wynton, who lost not a syllable of it — 
 Walter Wynton, who was in the midst of 
 these desperadoes and fanatics (the Dutch 
 ship in which he was a prisoner having 
 come up from Sheorness mth Van Ghent), 
 was transjjortod almost into a frenzy. 
 Thinking not of the pledge the Dutch 
 captain liad exacted from him, he repre- 
 hended Joel W3'kf>, and even seized that 
 malignant by the throat, as he was leading 
 the anti-national chorus, and exciting his 
 rountrymon into a forgetfubvss of every 
 fcf'ling for their country. lb- IIhmi rushed 
 below deck to avoid the mad<l('Tiing siglit; 
 but lie could not stay there, ami lu'i-uslied 
 back to the quartcr-dofk as if compelled 
 to gaze upf)n what liis soul abhorred, or as 
 if he could not credit what he saw and 
 heard, or as if he fancied that the spectacle 
 of the negligence and helplessness of the 
 Englinli shij)S iruist preseutl}' }>e suceeeded 
 by some terrible and unexpected manujuvre,
 
 202 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 or some mighty display of forces and 
 means, hitherto concealed, which should 
 di-ive Van Ghent with loss and shame back 
 to the Nore, or annihilate him where he 
 was. But when Walter saw, on coming 
 close alongside, that the Royal Charles, 
 one of the largest and finest ships in the 
 world, was grounded, immovable, helpless, 
 and altogether deserted ; when he saw a 
 Dutch boat with only nine men (and half 
 of them English) put off and board and 
 take her, without so much as a musket- 
 shot being fired at the boarders ; and when 
 he saw one single man, enveloped in the 
 smoke of the Dutch guns, go up and strike 
 her flag and jack, and heard a trumpeter 
 sound upon her quarter-deck " Joan's 
 placket is torn," the brave son of the 
 fighting Captain Wynton could stand it 
 no longer. He ran below, and remained 
 there for a good many minutes with his 
 blushing, burning face buried in his hands. 
 Then fresh shouts made him run back — to 
 seethe Dutch flag hoisted on the Charles. 
 At this moment of shame and desperation, 
 as he dashed some big tears from his eyes, 
 he caught sight of the honest, right-down 
 English face of Will Gaff, who seemed to 
 be scarcely less affected than he was him- 
 self. Gaff was standing on the bulwarks 
 in the waist of the ship, holding on by the 
 main shrouds. Walter made a rush to 
 him and said, " Will, this is no sight for
 
 THE MEDWAY. 
 
 203 
 
 an Englishman to see ! This is not to be 
 borne ! " 
 
 " That's ^yhat I have been thinking this 
 last hour and more," said Will ; " and may 
 I perish if I stand it any longer! " And, 
 as the last word was on his lips, Will 
 threw himself overboard, and Avas followed 
 in the tA^dnlding- of an eye by Master 
 Walter. Both went over the ship's side 
 before any of the Dutch seamen had a 
 notion of their desperate intent ; but Joel 
 Wyke, who had an eye upon Walter, 
 now came amid-ships crying, " Desei-tion ! 
 Flight of prisoners ! " and taking his gun 
 from a Dutch soldier, he fired it, not at 
 Walter, but at the head of the man in the 
 world he most hated— at the head of his 
 rival in oratory or speech-making, poor 
 Will Gaff, who had just come to the sur- 
 face of the water after his pUnige, and was 
 striking away for sliore like a good bold 
 swimmer. The malicious bullet whistled 
 close by the wet ear of Will, and made him 
 say to himself, " An inch iicarer, and I 
 shoulfl have sung Peccavi ! " lie then cried 
 out to Walter, who was close in his wake, 
 " Dive ! Master Walter, dive ! " And to get 
 at longer quai-ters, they both went under, 
 like watfT-fowl, and Sf) swam good twelve 
 fathoms farther from tiie ship. Tli<( malig- 
 nant Jof'l had seized a second gun, and was 
 taking a dfliberat*? aim at the nearer re- 
 appearing head of Walter, when a Dutch
 
 204 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 officer struck liim with the back of his 
 sword over the elbow, and with sundry 
 " for-damnings," told him that he was a 
 savage, unnatural scoundrel, and that 
 Admiral Van Ghent wanted no such foul 
 services as that. No attempt was made to 
 stop the progress of the two brave swim- 
 mers, or to recapture them by sending a 
 boat after them. The stout old Dutch 
 captain, while doing his duty to his own 
 flag and country, could feel for the patriot- 
 ism of other men, and for the peculiar 
 and most cruel situation in which Walter 
 Wynton had been placed. He thought 
 that a single young officer, who certainly 
 would do him no good if he stayed, could 
 do no harm if he escaped ; and so sad and 
 heart-touching had been his countenance 
 and behaviour, and the few words he had 
 uttered during his imprisonment on board, 
 that he was glad he was gone, looking, 
 with an old sailor superstition, upon his 
 departure as the removal of an evil omen. 
 Being thus unexpectedly left to themselves, 
 such good swimmers as Walter and Will 
 Gaff could have no great difficulty in 
 making shore. But as the tide was nin- 
 ning upward with great strength and 
 velocity they were borne away by it, and 
 could not gain the bank of the river until 
 they came to a small projecting shoal some 
 distance above Stoke, and about midway 
 between that \'illage and the little hamlet
 
 THE MEDWAY. 20^ 
 
 of Hoo. Here they landed, wet and weary 
 enough. The spot, a long narrow strip of 
 marshy land, seemed as solitary as the 
 coast of an uninhabited island ; but they 
 had scarcely begun to shake the water 
 from such of their garments as they yet 
 retained (for part of their dress had been 
 cast off in the river that they might swim 
 the better), ere they were sui-rounded and 
 seized by a score of Kentish boors, Avho, 
 armed with scythes, bill-hooks, and other 
 agricultural or ruder implements, sprang 
 out from some bushes and tall growing 
 reeds, roaring, " Down, Dutch, down ! The 
 men of Kent be upon ye ! There be no 
 English traitors here to help ye ! " Walter 
 and Will, who had scarcely recovered their 
 breath, merely said that they were no 
 Dutchmen, but Englishmen. " Then," 
 said the excited and never very quick- 
 sighted peasants, " ye be English traitors 
 that have come up with the Dutch ships, 
 and that now come hither to look for false 
 men to aid ye, as that devil Doh^man is a- 
 dftiiig across the river at Gillingluim. But 
 the men of Gilliiighain be as sound at 
 heart as their own cherries. Doleman and 
 his tniitorrtus crew, perehance, m;iy fire 
 the village and r-ut down the cheery-trees ; 
 but they will find not one traitor there 
 save themselves. And as for you pair of 
 rutJugateH, we will liand ye over to safe 
 prison."
 
 206 THE DUTCH IN THE 31EDWAY. 
 
 '' Or," said one of the rustic company, 
 " as there be not prisons enoug-h to hold so 
 many traitors as have declared against 
 King- and country in these last days, sup- 
 pose we take them up to Hoo, and hang' 
 them ourselves off-hand on the tallest tree 
 in ovu" churchyard ? " 
 
 " Marry ! " quoth Will Gaff, who had 
 now quite recovered his breath ; "it were 
 too hard to be hanged so soon after escap- 
 ing drowning and shooting besides ! Hold 
 off ! I tell ye we be true Englishmen ; I 
 tell ye, above all, that this young gentle- 
 man is a true gentleman and a worshipful, 
 albeit he hath neither beaver nor coat, and 
 his hose be but muddy. He and I were 
 forcibly carried away by the rebellious 
 seamen in Ratcliffe Highway, and were put 
 on board one of those broad-sterned Dutch- 
 men, from which we have just escaped by 
 leaping overboard. So avast ! I say. Or 
 whatever you may do with me, who am 
 but a poor tarpaulin, and used to rough it, 
 take your hands off this person of honour, 
 who is not accustomed to rough usage." 
 
 The bumpkins shook their heads, and 
 said that Will's story was not a very prob- 
 able one. Master Walter told it with a 
 little more detail, and assured them that 
 he was not only a true Englishman, and 
 one ready to die for his country, but also 
 a true-born Kentish man like themselves. 
 He named his father. Captain Wynton,
 
 THE MED WAT. 207 
 
 and Sir John Roundtree ; but to these 
 stay-at-home churls Charlton and Erith 
 were places too remote for them to know^ 
 anything about those who dwelt at them. 
 While this conversation lasted the Dutch 
 guns kept roaring in the river, a Dutch 
 lire-ship exploded with a terrific noise, and 
 the smoke from the cannon, the fire-ship, 
 and the burning English ships became so 
 dense as to obscure the bright summer 
 Sim. This was enough to keej) up the ill- 
 humour and suspicion of the poor peasants ; 
 and, moreover, just as Walter's explana- 
 tions and assurances were beginning to 
 make a favourable impression, a Dutch 
 barge, full of armed men, was seen crossing 
 the river from Gill ingham, and makingwhat 
 appeared to be signals to some persons on 
 shore on this side of the river. In the 
 next instant a swivel placed in the bow of 
 the barge was fired, and the ball passed 
 over their heads. Upon this the peasants 
 beat a retreat from the water's edge, going 
 ofE in the directi<jn of Hoo, and carrying 
 their two prisoners with them. They 
 marched for some distance across a low, ilat, 
 swampy rountry- a part of Hoo marshes; 
 but scarcely had lliey crossed the first 
 low ridge of clay liills which rise above 
 the bank of the Medway, a little below 
 Hoo Church, Avhcu thoy saw a great force 
 of mon man-liiiig towards tlip river. 
 
 No iHiit'oniiH or military dresses of any
 
 208 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 kind were discernible in this host; yet, 
 distant as it was, Walter could perceive 
 that it was formed and was marching in 
 something like very good military order. 
 The peasants halted on the inward slope of 
 the hills, gazing and marvelling much; 
 but presently when they made out a banner 
 with the large rude figure of a white horse 
 upon it, they set up a joyous shout, and 
 cried, " There's the old banner of Kent ! 
 Yon be true Kentish men ! " As the host 
 came nearer, Walter perceived that they 
 were dragging some artillery with them, 
 and were dragging it with the strength of 
 their own arms, across a rough, muddy 
 country where there was scarcely anything 
 deserving the name of a road, the soil 
 being deep and heavy, and it being an old 
 proverb which said : 
 
 He that rides into tlie Hundred of Hoo, 
 Besides tippling sailors will find mud enew. 
 
 At the sight he joined the peasants in their 
 loud and joyous shouting. Will Gaff, 
 whose cheering was distinctly heard above 
 all the other voices, said, after the third 
 cheer, "Master Walter, if these honest 
 men bring but ball and powder as well as 
 gims, we may put some bitter salt upon 
 the tails of the Dutch before they get out 
 of this river." 
 
 " Perchance we may," said Walter ; "but 
 who have we there marching in the head
 
 THE MED WAY. 209 
 
 of that host ? . . . . As I live it is none 
 other than Tom of the Woods ! " 
 
 At the hearings of Tom's name some of 
 the peasants almost shuddered with awe, 
 for although they had never seen him in 
 the body, they had all heard of his prophe- 
 syings. Walter himself was for a moment 
 rather uneasy, doubting whether Tom's 
 persecutions and sufferings might not have 
 wholly estranged his heart from his coun- 
 try, and whether his fanaticism and pride 
 of prophecy might not have induced him 
 to collect all the fanatics and malcontents 
 of Kent to aid in the fulfilment of his own 
 predictions. Meanwhile the force kept 
 advancing in good order and (the nature 
 of the ground being considered) with 
 admirable speed. As thoy drew near Will 
 Gaff said, " I don't know his rating or 
 his rig, Vjecause d'y'see. Master Waltor, I 
 have never seon liim afore ; but I take 
 that tall fellow ill the black cloak and with 
 that long beard at his figure-head to be 
 the Kentish pn>j>lif't UM'n call Tom of the 
 Woodf ; and a very tcrribln-lnokingju-ophet 
 lie is, and very like Death in the Revela- 
 tions — only instead of having the white 
 horse und^r him, lie has got it pictured 
 over his head ! " 
 
 " That U \uy frii'ud Tom," said V\ alter. 
 
 At these words the two peasants, who 
 had bfon taking Walter by the anus, let 
 go their hold, and hoped his liom mi- would 
 
 11
 
 210 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 pardon them for what they might have done 
 amiss. Then was heard from the advanc- 
 ing line the word " Halt ! " pronounced 
 with that deep and unearthly voice which 
 Tom of the Woods and only he possessed ; 
 and when the line halted, the same deep 
 voice cried to the peasants, '^ Who be ye, 
 and why standing here ? " 
 
 The poor bumpkins trembled outright, 
 and knew not how to answer ; but Will 
 Gaff, who had better knowledge of chal- 
 lenges and practices of war, put his 
 right hand to the side of his mouth and 
 shouted right manfully, "Friends, for old 
 England ! " 
 
 " Then move and fall into our rear," 
 cried the prophet. 
 
 Walter Wynton now stepped forward to 
 meet the head of the line, which was again 
 in motion. Hatless, and coatless, and mud- 
 stained, and still dripping with the Medway 
 water as he was, Tom of the Woods did 
 not recognise him until he came close up 
 to him ; but then Tom gave a cry of mixed 
 wonderment and joy; and after greeting 
 the yomig gentleman most cordially he 
 turned to his followers and said, "Now 
 have we a good sea-of&cer with us. This 
 is Master Walter Wynton, who knows 
 what ships be made of." The people 
 shouted, and said that they would have 
 Master Walter for their leader. As our 
 hero looked at the men, and read the
 
 THE 3IEDWAY. 211 
 
 countenance of the prophet, his doubts 
 and misgivings as to their intention were 
 ended. There was not a thin fanatic or 
 sour-faced malignant among them ; they 
 seemed to be composed in good part of 
 hearty Kentish farmers and small free- 
 holders, and of their well-conditioned 
 farm-servants; and as for Tom, he seemed 
 wholly changed. The truth was that the 
 soldier part of his character and his latent 
 patriotism had completely subdued the 
 fanatical part of it. The ranter and pro- 
 phet had entirely disappeared with the 
 news that his country was invaded, and he 
 stood on those Kentish hills a warrior and 
 patriot, with no other thought than how 
 to beat back the insolent foe, and avenge 
 the disgrace his country had sustained. 
 His tongue had forgotten the language of 
 the conventicle — that mad phraseology 
 which had so turned his brain ; he had left 
 his book and his liermit's staff behind him 
 in the woods, and now ho c;iri-i('d ii good 
 sword of tlie Ironside fiishion in his right 
 hand and pistols in his girdle, and instead 
 of speaking of vials of heavenly wratJi ;nid 
 of visitations and juflgnicnts, he si)ok(' of 
 cannon and battltts, of the primary duty 
 of all Englishmen to stand for their coun- 
 try, and beat the Dutch before any man 
 among tlieni, of whatsoever party in poli- 
 tics or religion, gave another thought to 
 what might be amiss in Church or State.
 
 212 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 A few hurried explanations were given 
 to Walter. Tom, suspecting where the 
 great blow would be struck, and knowing* 
 the distractions of the Government, the 
 shameful corruption and negligence of its 
 officers, and the indefensible state in which 
 that district had been left, had thrown 
 himself among the free and stout-hearted 
 farmers and freeholders dwelling on the 
 broad promontory which divides the 
 Thames from the Medway, and had easily 
 made them take up arms for the defence 
 of their own shores, and place themselves 
 under his leading. Every pike, spear, 
 matchlock, musket, or fowling-piece in 
 the district had been put in requisition ; 
 and the supply had been found so abun- 
 dant that out of foui' or five hundred men 
 only a few were armed with scythes, bill- 
 hooks, and such-like tools. At Cowling 
 Castle (once the property and abode of the 
 renowned Sir John Oldcastle, the head of 
 the Wycliffites in the days of Henry TV., 
 who was the first martyr, and the first 
 author among the nobility of England, and 
 who was barbarously put to death upon 
 the statutes of treason and de heretico com- 
 hurendo) they had found a few old brass 
 guns ; and in some other places nearer the 
 water they had furnished themselves with 
 a few old ship guns, and with a considera- 
 ble quantity of j)owder and suitable ball. 
 A few sailors had jomed them, and after
 
 THE MEDWAY. 213 
 
 explaining the confusion which prevailed 
 in the upper part of the river, and especi- 
 ally at Upnor Castle, together with the 
 faults of construction, and the other causes 
 which would render the fire of that castle 
 80 very useless a waste of powder and 
 shot, these mariners had recommended 
 the construction of a battery on the bank 
 below Hoo, where, on account of sand- 
 banks and shallows, the Dutch would be 
 obliged to sail very close to shore. 
 
 As Tom of the Woods finished these 
 explanations, Walter said to him, " By my 
 life, your whole plan is a good one, and I 
 will do my best to help in the execution of 
 it. I could not but think, even when those 
 poor clowns held me in their grip as a 
 Dutchman or traitor, that somewhere in 
 this quarter a few well-served guns might 
 do much." 
 
 *'Ay," said Will Gaff, with a right 
 merry grin, "a few good shot between 
 wind and water ! . ... I see .... 
 And I have seen a big Dutcliman go down 
 that way aforetime. That old Dutch skip- 
 per is a gfiiil'Miian, and boliaved as such 
 to Master AValt<'r; but d — n mf double 
 if I don't liave a rap at his sheathings for 
 the sake of Joel Wyke, and the other 
 ranting, psalm-singing English scoundrels 
 that bo on board." 
 
 Instead of reproving him lor swearing, 
 Tom of the Woods swore himself, saying
 
 214 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 to Will Gaff, "By the Lord, so you shall! 
 and mind you take good aim." 
 
 " I'll take better aim than Joel took at 
 my poor skull while I was in the water," 
 said Will, with another very pleasant grin. 
 
 It was not until all iliese t xj)lanations 
 had been given, and the march of the her- 
 mit's little army had been resumed, that 
 Walter's patriotisni allowed him to speak 
 of more private matters, near as some of 
 those matters were to his heart's core. 
 He then questioned Tom of the Woods, 
 and learned from him that his father at 
 Charlton a]:d the faanily at Erith had 
 been duly informed of the duel and catas- 
 trophe which had made Walter a fugitive, 
 and sent the good knight's bay mare and 
 the young gentleman's black horse scam- 
 pering into Erith without any riders upon 
 their backs, and with their reins broken 
 and the furniture all torn — a sight which 
 had filled the kind heart of the old knight 
 and the loving heart of Maid Marion with 
 despair and grief. Of Faittout, or the 
 body of Sir Ealpli Spicer, or of any pro- 
 clamation by Government or by sheriff, 
 Tom knew nothing ; for, since his parting 
 with Walter, and the dispatching of his 
 trusty messenger to Captain Wynton at 
 Charlton, he had kept a good way to the 
 eastward of Lessness Heath and Plumstead 
 Common, and during the last three days 
 he, as well as all the men of Kent, had
 
 THE MEDWAY. 215 
 
 been too busy to hear or think of any such 
 matters. Tom had, however, heard in the 
 course of the preceding' day that the 
 family had quitted Erith ; he did not 
 know whither Marion and my lady were 
 gone, but Sir John Roundtree had been 
 met on horseback with his warlike harness 
 on, and with a good company of armed 
 yeomen at his back, crossing Gad's Hill on 
 his way to Chatham. 
 
 " And thither, or to some other post or 
 place of danger, will my brave father have 
 betaken himself if he be but alive and able 
 to move from his bed," said Walter. " If 
 he and Sir J(jhn should but meet where 
 bullets and balls be flying about, they will 
 be friends for the rest of their lives. Yet 
 would I could know where Marion is ! 
 The times are dangerous, and Lady Eound- 
 tree, to say the least, lacketh discretion." 
 
 But busy occupation drove away for the 
 time these anxious thoughts. They had 
 now readied tlic river bank, and after 
 gazing for a sh(»rt while at tlie lire and 
 smoke which now seemed to cover the 
 whole of the Medway from Muscle Bank 
 to Upnor Castle, these true-hearted men 
 of Kent, under the guidance of Walter 
 and Tom of the Woods, began to mark out 
 a battery and to dig a broad deep ditch. 
 Ah tliey worked might inid iriain, a nund)er 
 of peasants came and joined them from 
 Stoke and from other villages. Women
 
 216 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAY. 
 
 and children, and tottering old men, came 
 flocking to Hoo and to the river bank 
 beneath, bringing spades and mattocks, 
 and meat and drink, and then lending 
 their hands to the digging : — 
 
 " The oldest and youngest 
 Are at work with the strongest." 
 
 With all this heart put into it the labour 
 advanced rapidly ; and as they toiled 
 the brave yeomen of fruitful Kent sang 
 in merry chorus the ballad which re- 
 cited how their ancestors had stood in 
 arms against William the Conqueror luitil 
 he granted them the laws of good King 
 Edward, and all their ancient customs, 
 liberties, and privileges ; and albeit the 
 ballad was but homely (being the com- 
 position of "the ballading silk-weaver," 
 Thomas Deloney, who lived in the days of 
 Elizabeth and King James), yet was there 
 poetry and a lyrical grandeur in it when 
 four hundred manly voices chanted — 
 
 " Let us not live like bondmen poor to foemen in 
 
 their pride, 
 But keep our ancient liberty, what chance soe'er 
 
 betide : 
 And rather die in bloody field, in manlike 
 
 courage prest, 
 Than to endui-e the servile yoke which we so 
 
 much detest." 
 
 Thus did the Kentish commons ciy unto their 
 
 leaders still, 
 And so marched forth in warlike sort and stood 
 
 on Swanscombe Hill,
 
 THE MED WAT. 217 
 
 Where in the woods they hid themselves under 
 
 the shady gi-een, 
 Thereby to get them vantage good, of all their 
 
 foes unseen. 
 
 And for the conqueror's coming there, they 
 
 privily laid wait, 
 And thereby suddenly appalled his lofty high 
 
 conceit. 
 
 " God send we may do as much by the 
 Dutch," said Will Gaff. "We have no 
 green wood here, but we have a snug 
 covering of inishes and brushwood ; and if 
 some spy do not prate we shall take 
 Mynheer by surprise as we rattle into the 
 bows of the first ship that comes up" 
 ..." Or that goes down," said Walter ; 
 "for our battery cannot be ready until 
 to-morrow, and we must not throw away 
 powder and shot, or let them know where 
 we be until we can make the report with 
 good effect. They ma}^ not come further 
 this tide, for it is turning, aiid they will 
 not try by night." 
 
 " Not they ! " said Will.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Battery Under Hoo. 
 
 After witnessing- the easy destruction of 
 his boom and chain. Monk was put to his 
 wits' end. Like all the rest, he blamed 
 everybody but himself. He, however, re- 
 mained on the Med way instead of repairing 
 to London, to which he was hastily sum- 
 moned by the Court. He sent up hurried 
 and evidently confused orders to the 
 Governor of Upnor Castle, who, instead of 
 artillerymen, had no force with him except 
 some cavalry. Li the evening my lord 
 general, being followed by nearly all the 
 land troops, rode back to Chatham to see 
 to the means of defending the dockyard 
 and the ships that lay in that part of the 
 river. Li order to screen himself he may, 
 in the well-known letter which he did not 
 give in until some months after the events, 
 have exaggerated the faults of others ; yet 
 is there no good ground for doubting that 
 all things at Chatham were in a dis- 
 graceful state of disorganisation and con- 
 fusion, and that nearly every servant of 
 Government was thinking rather of him- 
 self than of his country. Monk wanted 
 carpenters and good oak or ship-timber
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 219 
 
 wherewith to make bulwarks for batteries 
 intended for the defence of the yard ; but 
 in the yard he could find only two carpen- 
 ters, and they were running away ; and 
 instead of oak the commissioners sent him 
 deal planks. But what he wanted most of 
 all was a supply of boats and barges, and 
 this was not to be procm-ed. Under this 
 disjointed and corrupt Government every- 
 thing connected ^vith the Service had 
 become disjointed, and nearly every man 
 in the Service cornipt and base to the 
 lowest pitch of baseness. The oflficers 
 specially charged with these duties, 
 instead of attending to them, had attended 
 and were actually attending to nothing 
 save their own private interests ; and 
 while some of them were withholding the 
 materials of war, others were busily 
 engaged in removing their own household 
 furniture and other property in the 
 Government boats up the river to Maid- 
 stone, or to some nearer yet safer place 
 above Roclicster bridge. Nearly every 
 boat and barge was thus employed by the 
 officers and oflicials. Execrably as all 
 things had Ix-cii miiiiagcd, not one of our 
 ships in Ihc upper pari oY the river would 
 have been taken and ]>urned if the boats 
 and barges had been wliere they ought to 
 have been. Bui lliey were nearly all 
 above bridge; and there they continued 
 the next day when most wanted. Munk
 
 220 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 got a few working men together, and 
 stayed all night in Chatham yard ; but, 
 having no money wherewith to pay the 
 men, all that he could do or say could not 
 put a proper spirit in them. The ship- 
 wrights, like the sailors, were starving. 
 Such little work as was well done appears 
 to have been done entirely by vokmteers — 
 by right-hearted Kentish men, who came 
 in from the neighbouring towns and 
 villages, and many of them from places 
 further off than that j)retty and safe town 
 of Maidstone, to which our fighting men 
 were sending off their goods. 
 
 In the coiu'se of the night Monk got 
 some fifty cannon planted in different 
 places, but the sites of his batteries appear 
 to have been badly chosen, and they were 
 certainly all very badly supplied. Before 
 morning my lord general most idly 
 fiattered himself that he had at the least 
 put Upnor Castle " in a pretty condition of 
 defence." Piteous and most deplorable 
 was the plight of England when her fleet 
 was thus put mider the control of land- 
 generals and colonels of regiments ; when 
 her ships were thus made to skulk behind 
 miserable land-batteries, and to seek pro- 
 tection, not from their own good broad- 
 sides of guns, but from booms of wood 
 and chains of iron ! 
 
 On the follo\ving morning (Thursday, 
 the 13th of Jmie), at about ten o'clock, as
 
 THE BATTERY TJNDEE HOO. 221 
 
 the tide was rising', and the wind blowing 
 right up the river, Van Ghent, who had 
 been lying at anchor near the scene of his 
 yesterday's easy triumph, ^^nfurled his top- 
 sails, called his men to their guns, and 
 began to steer through the shallows for 
 Chatham. As his sliips got in motion 
 Will Gaff said, " As ye have stayed so 
 long, I wish ye had stayed a little longer, 
 for we be not quite ready for ye yet." 
 And, notwithstanding the energy of our 
 Kentish yeomen, who had been working 
 all the night long under the direction of 
 Walter Wynton and Tom of the Woods, 
 the battery in Hoo Marsh was indeed not 
 quite ready. Our friends, however, com- 
 forted themselves with thinking that 
 somethmg great must have been done by 
 the Duke of Albemarle in the course of 
 the night ; that the Dutch who went up 
 must come down again with the returning 
 tide, and that then they would Inive their 
 guns in readiness for them, and their 
 battery in such order as to defy a land 
 attack, wliicl. was the only kind of attack 
 that could give them mucli uneasiness. 
 "Let us lie quiet," said Master Walter, 
 " while the enemy passes upwards, for 
 he must not know that we be hen; until 
 we be quite ready I'ov liim. Tils decks 
 are crowded with land troops!" An<l 
 the brave Kentish men, wlio mu(,'b I'e- 
 quired rest and time to take a little food.
 
 222 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 suspended their labours and concealed 
 themselves. 
 
 The Dutch had nothing to do, or had 
 not to fire a gun, until they came abreast 
 of the pleasant village and cherry-orchards 
 of Gillingham. Here, close to the water's 
 edge, there was an English battery which 
 raight perchance have made Van Ghent 
 repent having ventured so far up ; but 
 alas ! there were only four or five bad old 
 guns on the sj)ot, and of these only two 
 could be fired, and the parapet was so 
 weak that more than half of it fell with 
 the first Dutch ball that struck it. A 
 little above Gillingham, and on the oppo- 
 site side of the river, there stood (as there 
 now stands) on a little slope above the river 
 bank, the small old castle of Upnor, which 
 had been built by Queen Elizabeth for the 
 protection of Chatham, but which was 
 scarcely a better place of arms than the 
 blockhouses which had been built on 
 various parts of the English coast by her 
 father Henry VIII. Upnor Castle, too, 
 was injudiciously placed, and incapable 
 of being made of much consequence as a 
 fort ; yet the Dutch did not expect to pass 
 it without some hard knocks, for they saw 
 a good many great guns pointed across 
 the river, which was here verj^ narrow. But 
 when this battery began to play upon 
 them, its fire excited laughter and derision 
 rather than alarm ; for the baU which had
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 223 
 
 been collected did not fit the bore of the 
 guns, some of the guns were honey- 
 combed, some of their carriages were rotten, 
 and only four cannon could be used at all, 
 and these so badly loaded as to be of no 
 use. ThroAving only a few shot to create 
 confusion among some militiamen and 
 country people who were standing on the 
 green hillocks near the castle, cursing the 
 sight of their country's shame and their own 
 insufficiency. Van Ghent very composedly 
 brought his men-of-war to anchor a little 
 above Upnor Castle. Of fighting ships he 
 had not brought more than five or six, and 
 of these not one was a first-rate— indeed, 
 two of them Avould not have been a match 
 for one of our ships of the line if she had 
 been properly manned and stocked — and 
 we had ten or twelve of the largest ships 
 lying between Upnor Castle and Rochester 
 Bridge. From Sheemess, Van Ghent's 
 first starting pf»int, to Chatham is only 
 twenty miles. The mid-channel of the 
 Medway is so deep, tlie bed so soft, and 
 the reaches of the river are so short, that 
 it is the safest harbour in the kingdom. 
 Our groat sliipn were riding as in "a wet 
 dock, and being moon-d to chains fixed 
 to the bottom of tho river, they swung up 
 and down wifli flif fide Biit all tbese 
 sliips, as wf'II as inaTiy othfrs of lower rates, 
 were almost entirely deserted by ihoir 
 crews, or rather by "those few men who
 
 224 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 had been put in tliem early in the spring, 
 rather as watchmen than as sailors ; some 
 were unrigged, some had never been 
 finished, and scarcely one of them had 
 either guns or ammunition on board, 
 although hurried orders had been sent 
 down to equip some of them and to remove 
 others still higher up the river out of the 
 reach of danger. 
 
 It was about the hour of noon when 
 Van Ghent let go his anchor just above 
 UlDuor Castle, But his fireships did not 
 come to anchor. No ! still favoured 
 by wind and tide, they proceeded onward, 
 and presently fell among our great but 
 defenceless ships. The two first of these 
 fire-ships burned without any effect, but 
 the rest that went upward grappled the 
 Great James, the Royal Oak, and the 
 Loyal London, and these three proud 
 ships which, under other names, and even 
 under the names they now bore, had so 
 often been plumed with victory, lay a 
 helpless prey to the enemy, and were 
 presently in a blaze. '' Had I but had five 
 or six boats to cut off the boats of these 
 fire-ships," said Monk, " we had prevented 
 the burning of our men-of-war ! " 
 
 From the dark tower of Rochester Castle 
 to the heights beyond Chatham, where 
 Fort Pitt now stands, and from those 
 heights down to the river, and along the 
 river bank as low as Gillingham, the
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 225 
 
 ground was almost covered with troops, 
 militia, and armed bui-ghers and peasants, 
 who could be little more than spectators — ■ 
 indignant spectators, but useless in all 
 that concerned the protection of our ships. 
 And on the opposite side, the green undu- 
 lating hills between Upnor and Strood 
 and the northern end of Rochester Bridge, 
 were sprmkled with irregular armed bands 
 of all but useless landsmen. On either 
 side of the river gaudy cavaliers and 
 officers in fine scarlet coats were seen 
 galloping to and fro with their drawn 
 swords most idly glittering in the summer 
 sun ; but we wanted not vapouring gallants, 
 but good sea-captains — we wanted not 
 horses, but boats — not militia, but sailors 
 — not pikes, halberds, pistols and swords, 
 but good ship-guns, and good powder to 
 put into them, with ball of the proper 
 calibre. General Middleton, who had 
 obtained some reputation as a land-com- 
 mander, and who had been sent by the 
 Kinf; to draw all the train-bands of Kent 
 and the neighbourhood together, and to 
 take the command of all such forces, was 
 stf)rming and cursing, now on ono side of 
 the rivor and now on the other ; and " my 
 Lord General " and present commander of 
 all, Monk, Duke of Albemarle, was here 
 within Chathani lines fully pcrsua<l('d at 
 last that he nii<dit almost as well be in the 
 moon. 
 
 16
 
 226 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Having" burned to the .water's edge the 
 London, the James, and the Royal 
 Oak, and some few other vessels of less 
 note, Van Ghent thought it best to take 
 his departure. Yet great as was the mis- 
 chief he had done, it was so easy to have 
 done a vast deal more, that the English 
 officers at Chatham could scarcely believe 
 their own eyes when they saw him prepare 
 to drop down the river with the next 
 receding tide, and without making any 
 further effort. The young lords who had 
 been caracoling with General Middleton 
 or with the Duke of Albemarle, now 
 laughed at the Dutch and called them 
 cowards ; but the general and the duke, 
 as well as every man in his sober senses, 
 were glad to see them going, knowing as 
 they did but too well, that with but a very 
 little more daring and perseverance the 
 enemy would have had at their mercy all 
 the remaining shipping, the dockyard, and 
 the arsenal, with all that they contained. 
 Upnor Castle played upon the Dutch ships 
 as they began to descend the river ; but 
 the fire was as ineffectual as it had been 
 before, and the enemy seemed to heed 
 those loose and ill-directed cannon-balls 
 no more than if they had been so many 
 summer flies. The battery at Gillingham 
 was as innocuous as Upnor Castle; and 
 the Dutch came down with the tide in a 
 long line of single ships, the trumpeters
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 227 
 
 on their quarter-decks plapng "■ Jor.n's 
 placket is torn," " Loth to depart," and 
 other tmies very insulting and offensive to 
 English pride, while the English rene- 
 gadoes on board kept shoutmg, " Now we 
 are fighting for dollars ! now we have 
 gotten change for om- tickets ! Go tell 
 this at Whitehall." 
 
 By this time Walter Wynton and Tom 
 of the Woods had gotten their rude bat- 
 tery into order. Rude it was and irregular 
 enough, but still it was capable of firing a 
 few shot for the honour of England ; and 
 such good disposition had been made as to 
 afford cover and protection to the brave 
 volunteers who had formed it. By digging 
 and embanking a tolerable platform had 
 been obtained, and the mouths of the 
 guns had been brought nearly to a level 
 with tlie surface of the water, so near that 
 it might be called a battery a Jleur de 
 Veau. It lay low and quite concealed 
 amrmg the rushes ch)se to tlie water, like a 
 wild duck's nest. Keeping only the few 
 sailors and a few of the yeomen who had 
 been sol'liers in former days, and who 
 under8t<^K)d soinetliing of artillory pnictice, 
 to work the guns, Walter ordered all the 
 rest of the co7ni)any to take jiost behind a 
 green knoll close in the rear of tlie battery, 
 and thfre t^) keep themselves both out 
 of sight and out of danger, (mly liolding 
 themselves in readiness to sally forth and
 
 228 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 charge if the enemy should attempt a 
 landing". On the two flanks tlie battery 
 was protected by a ditch and a strong- 
 palisade, the ditches being- two natural 
 water-courses and running- from the two 
 opposite sides of the g-reen knoll right into 
 the river. But these ditches had been 
 widened and deepened by the unceasing 
 toil of the yeomen ; and another ditch had 
 been cut behind the knoll, where a brass 
 gun was placed within another stout pali- 
 sade. Walter said to Tom of the Woods 
 and Will Gaff, who remained with him in 
 the battery, " We be but slightly covered 
 in front, but we lie so low, and the Dutch 
 must come so close, that their lowest tier 
 of guns will fire over our heads." 
 
 As the foremost Dutch ship approached, 
 sounding her trumpets in triumph, and 
 apprehending no further hindrance or 
 harm, our heroes stood to their guns with 
 lighted matches, and when she was at the 
 closest to the bank, without any preceding- 
 shout or cheer they gave fire. Every ball 
 told, and hit the ship between wind and 
 water. The trumpeters left off trumpet- 
 ing that there was a rent in England's 
 honour, and there was evidently astonish- 
 ment not unmixed with confusion among- 
 the crew. They could neither recede nor 
 cast anchor and stoj), for, at that spot 
 there was not room enough for the ship to 
 swing ; so they put out sweepers and
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 229 
 
 glided past the battery, -whicli tliey could 
 still only see by the smoke of its guns ; 
 but before they got out of reach their ship 
 was hit again and again, and a gun pointed 
 and fired by Walter knocked off her 
 rudder : and then his men gave three good 
 cheers. 
 
 The second ship in the retiring line was 
 that which contained Joel Wyke and his 
 desperate crew. Each gun in the battery 
 was well loaded and pointed to give her 
 proper salute in passing ; but the cautious 
 old captain, upon hearing the most unex- 
 pected explosion, and seeing the crippled 
 state of the foremost ship, had hove- to as 
 best he could, and was making signals and 
 waiting orders from Van Ghent, who was 
 in thf rear. The nature of the orders he 
 received was soon explained : an anchor was 
 let go, and the ship's barge and sundry 
 other boats were tilled with soldiers and 
 sailors, who were presentlv landed on the 
 river bank, some distance above tlio luittory. 
 
 "This is what 1 expected," said Walter. 
 ** They mean to dislodge us by a land 
 attack, but they will find a hotter reception 
 than they anticipate! " 
 
 " Hang me at a yard-arm," said Will 
 GafF, " if they can make out where we be ! " 
 
 There appeared to be truth in what Will 
 said, for the sinolce of flie (runs had cleared 
 off, and the Dutch otiicer in conunand of 
 the land party was seen halting on the
 
 230 THE DUTCH lis" THE MED WAY. 
 
 shingles and peering through his prospect- 
 glass. In a minute or two, however, the 
 Dutchman put his column in motion along 
 the bank. 
 
 " And now," quoth Tom of the Woods, 
 " it is my turn, and good time to call out 
 my Kentish yeomen." 
 
 Tom quitted the battery, and went up 
 to the rear of tlio green knoll. As he 
 moved along the higher ground the enemy 
 caught sight of his tall gaunt figure ; and 
 setting up a shout that the men in the 
 battery were ruiuiing away, they began to 
 nin forward themselves in rather a dis- 
 orderly manner. But before they got 
 within a hundred yards of the ditch and 
 palisade, a tremendous English shout was 
 heard, and Tom of the Woods, sallying 
 forth with his brave men of Kent, rushed 
 between the ditch and the advancing foe, 
 and then, leaving a good line in reserve, 
 he threw himself upon the Dutch soldiers, 
 who had no time to fonn. It was a close 
 hand-to-hand fight, and soon over. None 
 fought very desperately on the side of the 
 enemy except a band of the English 
 fanatics, at whose head was seen Joel 
 Wyke, laymg about him like one possessed 
 by a demon. At this sight Will Gaff 
 could not contain himself ; and so, saying 
 to Walter that he would be back anon to 
 work his gun, but that he must go and 
 settle old scores with Joel, he sprung out
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 231 
 
 of the battery and over ditch and palisade ; 
 and in little more time than it takes to say 
 it, he confronted the terrible sea-lawyer 
 and divine, who was cutting his way to- 
 wards the ditch, and shouting to the mad- 
 men that pressed after him that he was 
 invulnerable, and that King Jesus would 
 protect his o^Am. As soon as he saw Will 
 Gaff he gnashed his teeth, and sprung 
 towards him, shouting " Ha ! backslider ! 
 Perish, thou Philistine." 
 
 " I'll see you perish first," said Will, 
 parrying his furious blow, and then cutting 
 him across the pate with so deadly a stroke 
 that Joel turned up the white of his eye, 
 and reeled and fell at Gaff's feet, which 
 he tried to bite through the strong leather 
 shoes that were on them. 
 
 "Thou wast ever a bitter biter and 
 venomous in thy nature," said Will, 
 bestowing a good kick upon the prostrate 
 fanatic ; " but 'tis all over with thee now ! 
 so let bygones be bygones, and may God 
 forgive thee thy sin against thy country, 
 and that cowardly shot thou didst fire at 
 
 me." 
 
 As soon as they saw the fall of the 
 great and iiivuliifrable Joel, tlu; English 
 fanatics took <o llicir heels and joined the 
 Dutch in running hack to the boats. The 
 bold men of Kent pursued them with pike 
 and sword in thr'ir loins, and as Will Gaff 
 found his hand in for cutlass exercise, he
 
 232 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 went with the men of Kent. The Dutch 
 man-of-war, which saw nearly the whole 
 of this very rapidly moving scene, could 
 not use her guns, as the contending parties 
 were so mixed together ; but she sent off 
 one or two more boats filled with soldiers 
 to cover the retreat, and bring off the 
 thoroughly defeated land party, who rushed 
 neck-deep into the water to meet them 
 or to get into their own boats. As Tom 
 of the Woods saw that the fugitives had 
 had enough of their experiment, and that 
 the Dutch captain had no intention of 
 repeating it, he withdrew his force and 
 his wounded prisoners. At this moment 
 Tom's appearance was more than usually 
 awful, for he had been foremost in 
 the fighting, and his long grey beard 
 was stained and dripping with blood — 
 with blood from his own veins as 
 well as from those of the foe, for Tom 
 was no more invulnerable than was Joel 
 Wyke, and besides receiving sundry 
 scratches from steel, he had been hit by 
 a ball. 
 
 As Will Gaff came to the spot where he 
 had left his old and mortal foe Joel, he 
 stopped to see whether his pangs were over. 
 The Fifth-Monarchy man still breathed, 
 and as Will bent over him he opened wide 
 his eyes, raised himself on his elbow, and 
 seemed so full of life, that poor Will 
 thought it was just possible he might re-
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 233 
 
 cover from the effects of the gash he had 
 given him ; and as his own animosity had 
 completely evaporated, and as certain com- 
 mandments and sacred injunctions flitted 
 through his mind, he said, " Shipmate, 
 what cheer ? Canst rise, man ? Shall I 
 tie up thy brow and carry thee on my 
 shoulders into the battery ? " 
 
 Looking savagely at him, Joel said in a 
 horrible husky tone and with apj^arent 
 difficulty, as if he were choking — "Never 
 to the accursed Prelatists ! No, not to be 
 hanged like Venner ! . . . But water, 
 one drop of water ! " 
 
 Although the distant Dutchmen had 
 brought some of their guns to bear upon 
 the bank, and balls were flying rather 
 thickly about, Will Gaff ran to a little 
 runnel near the ditch, filled his leather cap 
 with water, and ran back with it to the 
 dying man. 
 
 "There, Jofl, drink," said he, "and 
 when thou art refreshed let me remove 
 thee." 
 
 Joel drank of the water, and then dash- 
 ing away the ciip iiiid thehrmeKt hiiiid ihat 
 held it, he exclaimed in a clearer voice, 
 " My next remove is to the mansion r)f the 
 saints. Backslifler and sinner that thou 
 art, T am boinid for Heaven ! " 
 
 "Then," fjuofli Will, "while that blue- 
 peter is flying, tVii-give and forget, and 
 just shake hands with an old messmate !
 
 234 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 And do just say before thou goest, ' God 
 bless old England.' " 
 
 Gaif held out his right hand : Joel 
 grasped it, but not in friendship or forgive- 
 ness. No ! he carried that honest kind 
 right hand to his ghastly, white and quiver- 
 ing mouth, and tried to set his teeth in it. 
 
 " Shiver my hulk ! " said Will, when he 
 had withdi-awn his hand from this unloving 
 embrace, " shiver me to bits if I have the 
 head to conceive such a black heart as 
 thine, O Joel Wyke ! D — n me if I would 
 do what thou hast done to the very Devil 
 himself ! " 
 
 " No," said the fanatic, with a hideous 
 grin, " the Devil is thy father, and the 
 friend of those thou servest. The Devil 
 reigns in this accursed land. Will 
 Gaff, thou hast ofttimes thwarted me 
 in my high intents, and this corrup- 
 tible part of me now meets death at thine 
 hand. But, Will, it was my hand that 
 struck the English colours on board the 
 Royal Charles — it was my hand that set 
 fire to the London — I first lighted the 
 flames that are blazing there up the river 
 like the . . . !" 
 
 And, as he said these last words, the 
 fanatic turned his heavy blood-shot eyes in 
 the direction of Chatham, and so, gazing 
 on the conflagration and ruin, he gave up 
 the ghost. 
 
 Will, who had been repeatedly called
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 235 
 
 in, now ran to the battery with a counten- 
 ance full of horror, and a cheek all but as 
 pale as that of the dead Joel. Tom of the 
 Woods, who had got his wounds bound 
 up, was standing by one of the guns wash- 
 ing the blood from his long beard; and 
 Walter, without hat or coat, was labouring 
 to recover a gun which had been overset 
 at its last firing. At this moment some 
 Kentish gentlemen of note, and two or 
 taree officers who had been at Upnor 
 Castle, and who had heard the inexplicable 
 firing of the little battery, and had seen 
 tlie sudden pause and confusion in Van 
 Ghent's fleet, came galloping over the 
 hiUs to learn what it all meant. As they 
 drew rein behind the green knoll, they 
 were cheered by the Kentish men. The 
 officers, who could not comprehend what 
 they saw, and who looked as if they 
 were in a dream, went down from the 
 knoll into th(! battery. There, as they 
 gazed upon Tom of Um Woods, the tallest 
 and most conspicuous figure in the scene, 
 and as Tom looked at them with eyes 
 which were rather scornful, their amaze- 
 ment incn-asfd. As soon as the officers 
 could Hpfak they said — " In the name of 
 the King, who are ye? Who sent ye 
 hitlicr -^ NVliom have ye in command ? " 
 
 " lu tlif iiiiiiic of (Jod," said Tom, hold- 
 ing his wet beard in his hand, " we be a 
 few honest men, with English hearts in us.
 
 236 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 -— — — — « — — — 
 
 who, seeing' how badly things were man- 
 aged by you gentlemen who hold commis- 
 sions, came here without any commission 
 at all, except that which the law of Nature 
 gives to every man to defend his country." 
 
 " Fellow ! " said one of the officers, 
 " thou art rough of speech." 
 
 " And rough in deed," said Tom, "when 
 the occasion requires it." 
 
 An older and discreeter officer now said, 
 "With us there is no need of any rough- 
 ness : we are come to praise, and not to 
 find faidt. Ye have done your duty like 
 men true and loyal to the King's majesty ; 
 ye have done marvellously well ; but we 
 would fain know who planned this battery, 
 for the King's majesty shall hear of it, and 
 honour and reward will be gotten by it." 
 
 "I, for one," said Tom of the Woods, 
 " want neither honour nor reward ; but 
 since you must know who traced this bit of 
 a work, I tell you that it was this wor- 
 shipful young gentleman that did it all." 
 
 Walter, at whom Tom pointed, did not 
 look at this moment very like a worshipful 
 young gentleman ; for his clothes and shirt- 
 sleeves were torn and covered with dirt and 
 clay, his face was begrimed with gun- 
 powder, and his hair was all dishevelled. 
 
 " And may I ask," said the old officer, 
 touching his hat with much gravity to 
 Walter, " who is this young gentleman ? " 
 
 '' It suits me not to give my name just
 
 THE BATTEEY UNDER HOO. 237 
 
 • . 
 
 now," said young Wjnton ; " but I bear a 
 name which the English have heard before 
 to-day — and the Dutch too." 
 
 " I think so," said Will Gaff, who was 
 now recovering liis natural complexion and 
 good spirits ; "I think so, i'faith I and I 
 only wish those Dutchmen there in the 
 river knew whose son it is that is here to 
 pepper them ! " 
 
 The petulant young officer who had first 
 spoken said that the leader of the party 
 was bound to make his name known. 
 
 " I tell you," said Walter, " I have my 
 private and personal reasons for remaining 
 imknown. But there is no time for talk. 
 See ! the Dutch are again in motion ! I 
 \vill WTite my name with cannon-ball on 
 the sides of that ship. If you can submit 
 to the orders of a young sailor, remain in 
 this battery and help us ; but if ye cannot, 
 then vouchsafe to depart, for two good 
 commands being mixed together are worse 
 than one bad one.*." 
 
 The officers t<juk the hint aud retired 
 behind the knoll, where they vainly ques- 
 tioned the Kentish yeoman about the tall 
 man with the l>eiird and tlie worsliipful 
 young g('ntl(;niiui without c(;at and liat. 
 
 The Dutch, drcarling to be left aground 
 by the receding tide, had, after some of 
 their habitual hesitation, resolved not to 
 land any more naen or make any further 
 attempt at carrying the battery, Ijut to
 
 238 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 1 
 
 drop down with the current and get out of 
 reach as quickly as possible. And they 
 now came down in close line, without any 
 insolent trumpetings. Each ship as it 
 passed presented her broadside so near to 
 the battery that every gun fii-ed by Walter 
 and his friends had a smashing effect on 
 her sheathings ; but not one of the many 
 guns discharged by the Dutch did the least 
 harm on shore, for they were too near to 
 the bank and in much too great a hurry 
 to depress their guns so as to bear upon 
 our duck's nest, and all the balls and 
 bullets flew high overhead, hitting the 
 green knoll, or lodging m a long bank of 
 clay. With a few more guns of greater 
 calibre than those he had, Walter would 
 have sunk more than one of those Dutch- 
 men under Hoo. As it was, he did Van 
 Ghent's flotilla no small hurt ; and it was 
 mainly through the firmg of his improvised 
 battery, and the delay it had caused (which 
 made the enemy lose much of the benefit 
 of the tide), that before they could reach 
 Sheerness one of their ships went down 
 and two were run ashore and burned. The 
 last shot and the last charges of powder in 
 the battery were fired at the hindmost 
 ship — a laggard fire-ship which had been 
 afraid to run the gauntlet, and which blew 
 up off Oakham-Ness before she got out of 
 sight. 
 
 When lower down the river the Dutch
 
 THE BATTEEY UNDER HOO. 239 
 
 found themselves obliged to set fire to 
 some prizes M'hich they had mtended to 
 carry off ; but they were fully determined 
 to take the Royal Charles with them, both 
 as a trophy of their victory and as one of 
 the finest war-ships then in existence. To 
 accompHsh this end they threw some of 
 her masts and gims overboard, and heeled 
 her on one side to make her draw less 
 water ; for the tide was runniiig rapidly 
 out, and in several places would not have 
 left water enough to float that beautiful 
 leviathan. All this was performed with 
 much coolness and seamanlike skill ; and 
 the Royal Charles was brought down during 
 a state of tide and wind in which it was 
 said the best pilot in Chatham would not 
 have undertaken it. But it is not improb- 
 able that in this sad season of disaffection 
 and treachery one of the best of English 
 pilots was serving the Dutch on board that 
 ship. 
 
 Long before tlio foi-f gave its last fire a 
 great many more gentlemen and officers 
 came to the spot from either side of the 
 river, and a ninltittide of jieople arrived 
 and fOTitinncd to arrivf at flic only j)lace 
 where honour had been done to the Kiiglish 
 flag. The people were full of enthusiasm, 
 and many of the genfleinon as they rode 
 up wero r-agfrto know and Sfc the licrocs 
 of the day. Ikit tlif last shot of all bad 
 no sooner been tired than Walter, and Tom
 
 240 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 of the Woods, and brave Will Graff called 
 romid them the yeomen and peasants whom 
 Tom had raised and brought with him, and 
 began to move off inland in the direction 
 of Cowling Castle. The people rent the 
 air with their shouts, and called upon them 
 to tarry and show themselves, and allow 
 themselves to be carried in triumph to my 
 Lord General at Chatham; a good many 
 Kentish gentlemen rode after them; and 
 a general officer, whose noble appearance 
 imposed respect, rode up to the dense 
 irregvJar phalanx, and begged, as an 
 Englishman and a lover of his country, 
 that he might have sight and speech of 
 the true Englishmen who had done so 
 manfully. Walter felt much inclined to 
 come out from the throng which hedged 
 him romid, explain his name and condi- 
 tion, and the affair of Plumstead Common, 
 and suiTender himself to the General ; but 
 Tom strongly dissuaded him from this 
 coui'se, urgmg him not to put trust in 
 princes and coiu-tiers, and declaring that 
 he would neither siuTender with him nor 
 allow him to give himself up without some 
 sure amnesty for the death of Sir Ralph 
 Spicer ; and poor Tom, whose head was again 
 wandering into some of its old tracts now 
 that the excitement was over, looked so 
 wan and faint through loss of blood, that 
 Walter could not find it in his heai-t to quit 
 him^ or to grieve him by attempting it.
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 241 
 
 "WeU, Tom," said he, "it shall be as 
 thou wilt. Where thou goest I will go, 
 and the same auuiesty shall hold thy name 
 and mine together." 
 
 All this while they had kept moving 
 rapidly off, and they were now ascending 
 the gentle acclivity of the hill on which 
 Walter and Tom had met on the preceding 
 day. The general officer still rode after 
 them, repeating his requests in earnest, but 
 most courteous terms. 
 
 " Tom," said Walter, '' I would fain say 
 somewhat to satisfy that gentleman." 
 
 " I will do it presently," said Tom, ^' for 
 I do see that all the rest of the red-coats 
 ^vith that jackanapes that came into the 
 l^attery are going back again. It would 
 not marvel mo if some of tliein went to 
 Monk and claimed the credit of that little 
 exploit which the Lord hath enabled us to 
 perform." 
 
 On flic ridge of tlu^ hill Tom crifMl lialt ! 
 and standing uj) in the midst of the honest 
 Kentisli men, his grim visage showing 
 itself high above most of their heads, he 
 turned tr) tli*' gcncriil and said, " 1 was 
 once one of the Ironsides and fought for 
 Oliver as long as my conscience permitt(!d 
 me so to do ; I am now Tom of the Woods, 
 tlif TCfntisli ])roj)li»'t^ — or T?<'(ll;iirii<(' if you 
 
 will. I am Tftin of flic W is that has 
 
 lived in woods an<l wilds this many a-year, 
 doing hanu to none, but only raising my 
 
 16
 
 242 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 voice against the sins of the times. I am 
 poor Tom that hath been hunted about the 
 land, and gyved and imprisoned — nay, that 
 hath been scourged by hangman's hands. 
 But not scourging could whip out of me 
 my English heart, or make me forget that 
 I am native to this soil, and that this earth 
 holds the bones of my kindred and fore- 
 fathers. I predicted a great calamity 
 without knowing what it woidd be ; but 
 when the shame and danger fell upon the 
 land I could not help doing my best to 
 avert the blow. Warrants in the King's 
 name have been issued to apprehend me ; 
 but I came down hither and brouofht with 
 me these brave men of Kent, and such 
 artillery and munition as we could find in 
 this corner of the island. Some of these 
 things we did forcibly; but the guns, 
 together with a few prisoners, will all be 
 found down there in the battery, and as 
 for the powder and shot, they have been 
 spent in the way you wot of, and it is 
 reasonable to hope that we shall not be 
 called to account on that score. Yet all I 
 did and got others to do might, perchance, 
 have been of little avail but for this gallant 
 yoimg gentleman that stands here by my 
 side, and who, for reasons of his own, 
 would for the present remain miknown." 
 
 The old officer could distinguish the still 
 hatless and coatless Walter in the crowd, 
 and some of the Kentish gentlemen who
 
 THE BATTERY UNDEK HOO. 243 
 
 had ridden up the hill fixed their eyes on 
 the same object. These worthies were 
 chiefly from other parts of the comity ; but 
 there was one who had his habitation not 
 far from Charlton, and as he looked at 
 Walter's face he recognised him in spite of 
 the gmipowder and smoke which had so 
 begrimed it. As this gentleman, how- 
 ever, before quitting his home, had heard 
 some fl^'ing report about a duello with a 
 great courtier on Plumstead Common, he 
 thought it best to say nothing; but he 
 resolved as soon as the opportunity shoidd 
 offer to inform Captain W}niton of the 
 condition and doings of his fugitive son, 
 and to bear testimony to Walter's skill 
 and gallantry, and to the effect produced 
 on the Dutch by his little battery. 
 
 In the moanwhile the old officer had 
 been almost as much puz/led with the 
 appearance of Walter as he had previously 
 been with that of Tom of the Woods; but, 
 being a generous-hearted m;ui, lie forebore 
 to question them any fin-fher, and then 
 praised them and tlianked them, and bade 
 God speefl them. 
 
 "OtherH," said he, " may try to rob you 
 of the hftnour which is your due : Init I 
 will apeak to the trutli in Court and in 
 Council, and in the Parliament, if need be, 
 whenever Parliament shall be assembled. 
 Remember my ninne — Genenil TTil- 
 bon>ugh."
 
 244 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 And so saying, the old officer courteously 
 waved his hand and rode back towards the 
 battery. The Kentish g-entlemen who had 
 followed thus far also departed ; and then 
 the good yeomen contmued their march. 
 In a short time Tom, although he uttered 
 not a word of complaint, showed by his 
 looks and motions that he was suffering- 
 agony from the gun-shot wound, and in a 
 few minutes more he became so faint that 
 it was found necessary to carry him. The 
 country between Cowling Castle and ffigh 
 Halstow, in the centre of the promontory, 
 or about midway between the two rivers 
 of Thames and Medway, was almost 
 covered with the goods and cattle of 
 those who had fled from the banks of 
 the Thames, and with j)arties of women 
 and children who had bivouacked there, 
 and who had heard all day long the 
 di'eadful firing in the Medway. There were 
 tender greetings, and overflowing joys 
 expressed by silent tears, when our return- 
 ing Kentish men met their wives and 
 children on this spot. Every loving wife 
 among them had thought that her own. 
 husband at least must perish ; but here 
 they were all back, husbands, brothers, 
 and sons, and no one killed, and scarcely 
 six slightly wounded among them all ! 
 
 An honest farmer offered in his snug 
 homestead a seciu'e asylum to Tom of the 
 Woods and Master Walter ; and the yeo-
 
 THE BATTERY UNDER HOO. 245 
 
 men and peasants separated, after they 
 had pledged themselves to protect the two 
 strangers at the cost of their lives, and to 
 meet again in arms whenever Tom or 
 Walter should call upon them. 
 
 Will Gaff, Avith something very like a 
 big tear in his eye, was scraping his star- 
 board foot, and taking his leave of Walter 
 in sailor-fashion ; but the young gentle- 
 man said, " No, no. Will, thou must not 
 leave us yet ; " and so Galf stayed, and was 
 well lodged in a clean and sweet hayloft, 
 and surpassingly well entertamed with 
 meat and drink. 
 
 The hiuidred of Hoo and the neighbour- 
 ing hundred of Shamel, which yet retain 
 a good deal of their primitive character, 
 were very quaiiit, curious, and interesting 
 districts in tluj middle of the seventeenth 
 century, Th(» manors, the hamlets, and 
 townships, as Hi^-li Hnlstow, Beluncle, St. 
 Mar)', Maliiiains, Allliiillr»ws, OfTciland, 
 Tudors, Stoke, Cowling, Chaddiiigt^m, 
 Cliff, Hailing, Cookstone, Sliorne Green, 
 Gad's Hill, Horn's Place, ajid Ihe like 
 (in nearly all of which Tmhi nf the Woods 
 had rcfruit^^d), wcro. all plac(^s of great 
 antiquity ; and although not many old 
 buildings, willi the exception of the 
 churches, were left, generation after 
 generation had ])uilt tlieir fann-lunises and 
 cottages on the sites wln-re the Saxons had 
 built in the times of the Heptarchy, and
 
 246 THE DUTCH IX THE MEDWAY. 
 
 the farmers and peasants still seemed, in 
 manners as well as in aspect, an uiunixed 
 Saxon race. The comitry abomided in 
 Shaksperean names. At the call of Tom, 
 a good score of Bardolphs and as many 
 Poinses, a good many Petos and not a few 
 Nyms, had rallied round the ancient 
 banner of Kent. Most of the manors had 
 belonged in the olden time to the cathe- 
 dral, the Bishops, and monks of Rochester, 
 by virtue of donations and charters from 
 the Saxon kings of Kent, or from the 
 kings of England of the Norman line. The 
 last lay lord of Hoo was Sii- Edward Hales, 
 who, having risked his life and his fortune 
 in the service of Kmg Charles I., and con- 
 tracted enormous debts, had been obliged 
 to abandon his manors in Hoo and his 
 country as well, to neither of which he 
 ever retui-ned. There was not a gentle- 
 man's house inhabited, nor one resident 
 clergyman in the whole hundred of Hoo 
 (the clergy living in Strood or Eochester 
 or elsewhere) ; but the yeomen, who held 
 their lands by the ancient Kentish tenure 
 of Gavelkmd, were noted for their sub- 
 stance, hospitality and wealth. The dis- 
 trict was rarely visited by the stranger; and 
 although it was so near to Chatham, the 
 sight of an officer or any sei'vant of Grovern- 
 ment was so uncommon and distasteful, 
 that the mischievous little boys generally 
 pelted such visitant with Hoo mud.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mistress Marion in London. 
 
 When the people of Erith, on the morning 
 of the 10th, were all j)acking up their 
 goods and chattels, and preparing- to run 
 away from the Dutch in the Thames — to 
 run they knew not whither — and when the 
 Dutch guns were heard roaring and 
 rattling close to Gravesend, Sir John 
 Roundtree had thought it time to look to 
 the safety of his womankind ; but as for 
 his goods and chattels he scarcely bestowed 
 a single thought upon them, and if some 
 of the family plate and valuables were 
 removed, it was owing to the cauti(jn and 
 consideration of her ladyship and Roger 
 Hinde, the old butler. 
 
 " I will put on harness once more," said 
 the good knight ; " and as soon as I have 
 placed the women out of tho rfacli of 
 imnicdiiilc danger, 1 will go whithersoever 
 true English hearts be most wanted." 
 
 The ladies were soon ready, for her 
 ladyslii}) was floiibly liurried by fejii* <»f tlie 
 Dutch cannon and by joy at the thought 
 of seeing the great city once more. Sir 
 John upon reflection having concluded that 
 London aftei- all WdiiM Ije the securest
 
 248 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 place, and that Mr. Samuel Pepys, her 
 ladyship's very dear friend, would be the 
 wariest and most knowing protector he 
 coTild find for the ladies during his own 
 absence. There was an old family coach 
 in the stable-yard — for most men of 
 knightly degree had their coaches at this 
 time, albeit they were often drawn by the 
 same horses which ploughed their lands ; 
 but Sir John, who liked the old Eliza- 
 bethan style in all things, had an 
 antipathy to coaches, and his clumsy 
 vehicle had never been mended since the 
 Christmas which followed the restoration 
 of King Charles, when his coachman, 
 getting surpassingly drunk at a gentle- 
 man's house where our knight had been 
 dining — it was the custom of those 
 hospitable times to ply the servants of 
 every visitor with strong di-ink — drove into 
 some deep ruts on Lessness Heath, and 
 upset the said vehicle with a mighty 
 smash. Since his second marriage he had 
 ofttimes been worried by her ladyship 
 about the coach ; but as Marion had 
 always preferred the saddle, he had invari- 
 ably said that he would see about it some 
 day or other. There thus being no coach, 
 her ladyship was mounted on a pillion 
 behind the old butler, her waiting-woman 
 was mounted behind one of the grooms, 
 and Marion's maid Lucy was mounted in 
 the same manner behind another man-
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 249 
 
 servant. Marion being a good equestrian, 
 rode her own cantering jennet; and the 
 knight bestrode his favourite bay mare, 
 with pistols in holster, and his good old 
 sword by his side — that ancestral Spanish 
 blade which in its time had done service 
 for Queen Elizabeth. And as the party 
 ambled across Lessness Heath — her lady- 
 ship and the two handmaidens bumping a 
 little upon their pilhons, and holding 
 fast to the girdles of the men that 
 rode in the saddles before them — Sir 
 John was so pleased at the now somewhat 
 old-fashioned sight, that he left off 
 thinking about the Dutch, whose gims 
 were still heard roaring in his rear, and 
 whistled a tune of the Shaksperean age. 
 They passed the Aljbey Wood and the 
 ruins of Lessness Abbey, then a picturesque 
 object, covered with ivy, and in the midst 
 of trees, but of which the destnictive bar- 
 barism of succeeding geiu'rati<Jiis has not 
 left the least vestige. As they rode through 
 the pleasant village of Charlton, her lady- 
 ship proposed tliat they should stop and 
 take a refection with her wciilthy and 
 much esteemed friend Sir William Ducie. 
 Now our knight liked not the man, nor 
 even the sight c»f the fine old house he 
 occupied, for Clinrlton Place had belonged 
 i() his near fncnd and companion in arms. 
 Sir Henry Newton (son to Sir Adam New- 
 ton, tutor to Prince Henry, who had built
 
 250 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 the house in the days of James I.) ; and 
 this devoted Eoyalist had so exhausted his 
 fortune dui-ing the civil war, and had met 
 with so bad a return since the present 
 King's restoration, that he had been obhged 
 to sell Charlton to this Sir William Ducie, 
 who was but a novus homo, and the second 
 son of a trading' London alderman. 
 
 ^^ Please you, my lady," said Sir John, 
 touching the flank of his bay mare with 
 his spur, and riding foremost, "I would 
 rather draw rein at the house of public 
 entertainment at the other side of Black- 
 heath, for there is an air about this place 
 which strikes cold to my heart." 
 
 And so the party rode on, leaving the 
 red-brick tower of the church and the pic- 
 turesque mansion and the magnificent old 
 cypress-trees, which then stood in front of 
 the house, behind them. Had they stayed 
 at Charlton Place a discovery would have 
 been made which would have spared Sir 
 John much mieasmess and Marion much 
 imhappiness. There was another house 
 by that village where Marion would fain 
 have tarried, and the sight of which had 
 shot both hot and cold to her young heart 
 — ^it was the house of Captain Wynton, 
 the birthplace and home of the now fugi- 
 tive Walter. 
 
 After a short rest at Blackheath, oui' 
 travellers rode through Greenwich. They 
 were now mixed with many other families.
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 251 
 
 who were runiiiug- from various parts of 
 the Kentish side of the river to seek shel- 
 ter in the capital. They saw many dismal 
 sights on the road and hi the narrow dirty 
 streets of the Borough, and they heard not 
 a few offensive words addi-essed to them- 
 selves by the alarmed and tiunidtuous 
 people ; but they came to the end of 
 London Bridge without any injm-y or 
 accident, and got safely through that 
 narrow and perilous pass. The houses 
 and shojjs which then stood on either side 
 of the old bridge seemed all to be stripped 
 of theii' goods and deserted by their occu- 
 pants. On the City side of the bridge they 
 fomid the lord mayor and aldermen in 
 their fonnalitios luaking proclamation by 
 sumid of tri'.mpet, and a number of hmi- 
 gry-luoking saihjrs listening to the crier 
 mth their hands in their pockets. Mid- 
 way down the Minories — a street which 
 was not then occupied by slopsellers and old 
 clotliesmen — there was a reputable house 
 of entertainment, or a sort of family liotel, 
 which Sir .John had frequented in bygone 
 days. As the house was still in the hands 
 of the samt! liost and hostess, and as it 
 stood so conveniently near to Seething 
 Lane and the residence of tbat adroit man 
 Samuel Pepys, Sir John detennined to 
 leave his family here. He sairl to himself, 
 *' There will be less danger to the women 
 from rioting sailors than from West-end
 
 252 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 profligates — besides, they cannot do with- 
 out the coimsels and services of Pepys and 
 his wife — and there is another reason 
 besides, and that is that I have no 
 acquaintance with any other host or hostess, 
 or with any other reputable house in 
 London, so that if I don't leave them here, 
 I know not where I can leave them. My 
 Kentish hinds know no more of the great 
 city and its ways than so many babes. 
 But here Pepys will have an eye upon 
 them — and Samuel Pepys is such a know- 
 ing man, and so ready to do a service to a 
 friend, particularly when he knows that 
 he will not lose by it." 
 
 At our knight's first summons, the Clerk 
 of the Acts, who was at the Navy-office 
 close by, put on his beaver, and came 
 runninof to the hostel. Lord ! the ecstasies 
 he was in to see them all ! He would go 
 fetch his wife, and she would be as glad as 
 he, and there was nothing between earth 
 and heaven but they would do for Lady 
 Roundtree and sweet Mistress Marion. 
 The knight might rely on their care — he, 
 Samuel Pepys, knew how to act cautiously 
 in difficult times — the knight might count 
 upon that — and he knew town and its 
 ways and byways, and Sir John might 
 rely upon that also. He would be as 
 watchful as a lynx, as sly as a fox. 
 Lideed, since the beginning of these pre- 
 sent troubles he had never slept with more
 
 MISTRESS MAEIOX IX LONDON. 253 
 
 than one eye at a time. He had powerful 
 friends and supporters in the City, and, 
 though he said it himseK, great friends at 
 the otlier end of town. " I have friends," 
 said he, in om- knight's ear, "1 have 
 friends even among the fanatics ; and as 
 for om- tumultuous sailors, why they do 
 know that the Clerk of the Acts, albeit he 
 hath not been able to do much for them, 
 hath been a better friend to them than 
 any other man in the Navy-office." 
 
 When Sir John led the clerk to speak of 
 public matters, he found from that official 
 and very sufficient authority that the state 
 of the Navy and the temper of the mariners 
 of England were even worse than he had 
 thought ; he learned that no proper pre- 
 parations had been made anywhere ; that 
 all things in or coimected with the Govern- 
 ment were flisjcjinted ; and that serious 
 apprehensions were entertained that Louis 
 XIV., tliough testifying a desire to accom- 
 modate differences, and to act as mediator 
 between the English and the Dutch, would 
 play us false, and invade our country with 
 a great army he had collected at Dunkirk. 
 
 " But, whither away so soon. Sir John V " 
 said Pepys, as our true-hearted knight 
 called up his groom and bade him saddle 
 his bay man- if she had eaten her corn, 
 and get his own nag ready to follow hi in 
 back. 
 
 Said Sir John, " Now that my women-
 
 254 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 kind are safe, I will go see what can be 
 done among my Kentish neighbours, and 
 will then ride over to the Medway, for 
 it is there that de Ruyter will be most 
 dangerous." 
 
 And without allowing himself time to 
 rest, and without attending to some very 
 prudent advice which Pepys began to give 
 him, the old knight mounted and departed, 
 not without some tears being shed by Mis- 
 tress Marion, and by Lady Romidtree, who 
 thought it very silly in her husband to go 
 in search of danger when he might abide 
 quietly in London, where so many great 
 officers who were paid for fighting were 
 enjoying their usual pleasures. 
 
 Her ladyship, however, was delighted to 
 be once more in the great city, and en- 
 raptured at the visit of Mrs. Pepys, who 
 discoursed about the court ladies and 
 gallants, and the last new fashion in dress 
 which the Castlemaine had introduced, 
 and of playhouses and the last new play, 
 and of the gay doings they would have as 
 soon as these troubles should be over. 
 But in the course of that evening and 
 night Lady Romidtree was considerably 
 alarmed by cries in the streets, and 
 rumours of gatherings upon Tower Hill, 
 where the sailors' wives and other Wapping 
 women were screaming^ — "This comes of 
 your not paying our husbands ! This 
 comes of your starving out our Joes ! So
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 255 
 
 now your work is undone or done by hands 
 that understand it not." And other per- 
 sons of better condition were heard saying 
 in the open streets, that the nation was 
 bought and sold and betrayed by the 
 Papists and others about the King-; and 
 that the next news to expect was that the 
 French amiy from Dunkirk had landed on 
 the coast of Kent. 
 
 On the next night matters looked still 
 worse, for it was then kno>vn that the 
 Dutch had taken Sheemess, and had 
 landed troops there. All the night long 
 the drums beat through the City of 
 London and the Tower Hamlets ; and 
 proclamation was made in every street that 
 every man belonging to the train-bands 
 must, upon pain of death, appear in arms 
 on the morrow morning, with bullet and 
 powder, and money to supply himself with 
 provisions for a whoh' fortnight. The 
 City artillery company was also called 
 out. These Cf)rps of armed citizens had 
 bf'fn materially changcnl since tlie first 
 })n'akiiig out of the war V^etwf'cn Cliarles 
 J. and the ParliaTricnt, and since the days 
 whfn that sturdy an«l devout veteran 
 Majf)r-General 8kip])on (••nnitmnded them 
 and showf'd the lustre and strcngtli of the 
 nif'tal they were ma<h^ of, and led tlicm 
 from victory to victory, with no other 
 harangue than this : " Come, my boys, my 
 brave boys, let us pray heartily ;mi<I light
 
 256 THE DUTCH IX THE MEDWAY. 
 
 heartily! I will run the same fortunes 
 and hazards with you. Eemember the 
 cause is for God, and for the defence 
 of yourselves, your wives and chil- 
 di-en ! Come, my honest brave boys, 
 pray heartily and fight heartily, and 
 God will bless us ! " Yet, in spite of 
 changes for the worse, the train-bands 
 were still tolerably well disciplined, and 
 had a good deal of the habit of a military 
 life; and the day was yet distant when 
 the commander of the City artillery was 
 to send to the Horse Guards for a few 
 regular soldiers to protect his guns from 
 the suspected insurrection of some of the 
 people. These citizen-soldiers got them- 
 selves ready, and were full of heart ; but 
 after being put on duty they were dis- 
 charged, and after being discharged they 
 were called out again, and when they had 
 again assembled in arms the Government 
 knew not what work to set them to. This 
 greatly increased the trouble and distrac- 
 tion of the City. Some cried that the 
 King was afraid of employing the bands 
 who had fought for liberty and Pro- 
 testantism against his father; but a 
 louder and more universal cry now was 
 "Parliament! Parliament! Let the King 
 assemble the Parliament and save the 
 country ! " The alarm seemed to increase 
 every horn-, and the condition of the City 
 was as confused as at the time of the Great
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 257 
 
 Fire the year before. Some of the wealthier 
 sort would have lodged their valuables in the 
 Tower, and some had already deposited their 
 property there; but a great Court lord, 
 who had hitherto tried to pass for one of 
 the greatest soldiers in Em-ope, and who 
 had the custody of the Tower, after lodg- 
 ing there only one night, declared that it 
 was not tenable, and desired to be removed ; 
 and thereupon those who had carried their 
 money and goods thither thought them- 
 selves obliged to carry them elsewhere, and 
 so went trooping with their horses and 
 pack-horses, and their waggons and 
 carriages, along the high north road to- 
 wards High gate and Finchley, and onward 
 to Barnet and Hatheld, and to other places 
 still farther from the river. And still the 
 Court seemed as mad as ever, and to think 
 of notliiiig but tlieir pleasures after they 
 had doubled tlio guard at Whitehall ; and 
 that very night the Dutch were l>uniiug 
 our ships in the Medway, the King and 
 his chosen companions supped with ray 
 Lady Casthnnainc at tlu; Duchess of M(m- 
 mouth's, and then- they wen; all mad in 
 hunting a poor moth. But in the course 
 of that night the King, who had been 
 relying iijxtn thf iissurances (»f Monk tliat 
 his cliiiin and boom across the Medway 
 could not be forced, and that the ships at 
 Chatbani wt-rc <julte safe, received in- 
 telligence wliicli made him wake at hist 
 
 17
 
 258 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY, 
 
 from his pleasant dream of secm-ity, and 
 throw off his habitual indolence. The 
 next day his Majesty and the Duke of 
 York rode into the City, the King being 
 sad and almost in tears. The people in 
 the streets, rejoicing at the thought that 
 he would now do something great, greeted 
 his Majesty as he passed, bidding him be 
 of good cheer, and swearing that they 
 would all stand by him with their lives. In 
 fact, the mere appearance of the King in 
 the situation in which he ought to be at 
 such a crisis, and the sound of the firing 
 of the enemy's guns in the river, and the 
 reports that were every hour brought in, 
 seemed for the moment to have completely 
 dissipated the disaffection and the well- 
 grounded discontents of the citizens of 
 London; to have made them all of one 
 mind, which they had not been for many 
 a year ; to have destroyed the antipathies 
 and hatreds of conflicting sects ^.nd political 
 parties ; and to have filled them all with 
 the determination to rally round the King, 
 as the best means of repelling the enemy 
 and retrieving the present disgrace. And 
 when Charles made a speech to the citizens 
 and the City Militia assembled on Tower 
 Hill, imploring them not to desert him and 
 their comitry at this crisis, imprecedented as 
 was the disgrace, great as were the smns 
 which had been given for carrying on this 
 war with vigour, and notorious and visible
 
 MISTRESS MAKION IN LONDON. 259 
 
 as were the negligence and worst faults of 
 the King- and Government, and the infamous 
 causes which had brought about all this 
 shame and calamity, not one murmur or 
 disrespectful whisper against the King was 
 heard to escape from all this vast and 
 excited multitude ; nor, of all those num- 
 bers of citizens who had been so often 
 accused of sedition and disaffection, and who 
 had not unfrequently been severely pun- 
 ished in their purse or in their person upon 
 suspicion only, does it appear that any one 
 Tnan attempted to make a diversion in 
 favour of the enemy, or refused to throw up 
 his cap for King and country. It seemed as 
 though the last of the men denationalised 
 by fanaticism had taken their departure 
 with Joel Wyke, or liatl concealed them- 
 selves in the dark ii llms or between the 
 double walls of old Hiram Bingley's house 
 in Gravel Lane. Even some few Fifth- 
 Monarchy men, who were present at the 
 great meeting on Tower Hill, forgot for 
 the nonce Venner and Sir Harry Vane, 
 Harrison and ilio reign of the 8aints, in 
 order to ^liink of the best means of beating 
 back thf Dutch ; and they threw up their 
 caps with the rest, and grasping hands 
 they vowed they would go ff)rth and <lo 
 battle against the enemy. The p('o])le 
 were again oiu'-hfarted. 'ilina, we believe, 
 will it ever be with Englishmen when 
 their country is invaded, or when an enemy
 
 260 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 is actually on the coast or within our 
 rivers ; but let no Government, through 
 corruption, carelessness, indolence, or a 
 pertinacity in error, ever bring the country 
 to such a pass as this ! Let no Govern- 
 ment alienate the hearts of our seamen, 
 and by neglecting oui* Navy, the right hand 
 of our power, fhid itself obliged to trust to 
 popular enthusiasm and to a defence by 
 land, to shore batteries and platforms, and 
 to the force which ought only to be con- 
 sidered as the left hand of our might ! 
 
 All that day the King and his brother 
 the Duke rode up and down the City and 
 suburbs, encouraging the people, and re- 
 ceiving encoiu'agement, confidence and 
 hope from the people. The King was 
 serious and earnest, showing that he well 
 knew how to attend to business and to do the 
 duties of a sovereign and a soldier ; yet, it 
 is said, that on returning from his visit to 
 the City he laughed at the danger and 
 dismay, and was very cheerful that night 
 at supper with his mistresses and buffoons, 
 which caused some to compare him to 
 Nero singing and playing while the city of 
 Rome was burning. 
 
 On the following day it was rumoured 
 that not only all the train-bands, but also 
 all the regular troojDS in and about London, 
 were to be marched forthwith to Rochester 
 and Chatham. Many persons now con- 
 ceived that it was the intention of Govern-
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 261 
 
 ment to ruin the city and give it up to be 
 utterly undone by tlie Dutch, and the more 
 timid sort were all thrown into fresh con- 
 sternation. This was not confined within 
 the barrier of Temple Bar. Alarm, accom- 
 panied by a dejection as great as their 
 previous pride, sloth and ignorance, pre- 
 vailed among the Ministers, courtiers and 
 servants of Government ; and those few of 
 them who had any property to take care 
 of, were as eager as the citizens to get it 
 removed to a distance. The Lords of 
 Council were ready to fall together by the 
 ears, none knowing which way to turn 
 themselves, and every one endeavouring to 
 throw the blame of what had happened 
 upon somebody else. There was hardly 
 any money in the exchequer; the com- 
 missioners and officers of the Navy were 
 reporting that without large sums nothing 
 could be done, and the seamen could not 
 bf! pn^vf'uted from runiiing to thf Dutch : 
 th<'re was no chance of obtaining money 
 without assembling a Parliament, and 
 Ministers dreaded the Parliament as much 
 as tlieDiitcli,tliirikiiig il impossil>le but that 
 the vengeance ot" llu; House of C<jnimons 
 would be directed against themselves, and 
 against the scoundrels and fools they had 
 put in employment, as soon as it should be 
 a88einl)led. 
 
 And what was oni- liieii<l Mr. Pepys, 
 Clerk of the Acts of the Navy, and one
 
 262 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 of the very best and honestest of the public 
 officials connected with the navy, doing- 
 at this crisis ? Why Pepys was thinking 
 that things looked very sadly, and had 
 been managed very badly; was thanking 
 his stars that at this time of danger he was 
 placed at the Navy-office in Crutched 
 Friars rather than at the Dockyard at 
 Chatham ; and yet was wondering how the 
 exasperated people did not set fire to his 
 office, and tear him and his colleagues to 
 pieces — "for," as he said to himself, "I 
 do not think that in any nation but ours, 
 men that apj^ear so faulty as we would 
 have then- throats cut." He was secreting 
 the best of his goods and chattels in his 
 snug strong house m Seething Lane ; was 
 removing his money from his bankers and 
 goldsmiths ; was getting his silver changed 
 into more portable gold ; and was hammer- 
 ing his brain to hit upon the safest means 
 of sending his father and his wife, and his 
 faithftd servant William Hewer, off into 
 the country with some thousands of pounds 
 in coined gold, which they were to bury in 
 the earth in the most retired part of the 
 retired tailor's little garden. But when 
 Samuel Pepys had seen to his own private 
 interests, and concealed three hmidred 
 broad pieces in his girdle to have ready in 
 case of emergency ; and had, with his 
 usual cunning or address, taken measures 
 for concealing and securing his property
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 263 
 
 and all his money (which he had rapidly 
 accumulated by means of official fees, or 
 commission or brokerage upon the selling 
 of places, or upon government contracts 
 mth the navy), he attended solely to the 
 duties of his office, and gave his country 
 the benefit of some of his ingenuity and 
 talent for business. He was active m 
 hiring fire-shijis, in reasonmg vnth the 
 sailors, and in sending off expresses to 
 naval commanders in different parts of the 
 kingdom ; and although Samuel did make 
 one or two of these coui-iers carry some 
 of his gold into the country for him, and 
 drop it in passing at his father's — and 
 although it appears doubtful whether he 
 would have despatched the said couriers at 
 all if it had not been for this private 
 object — he soothed his conscience by tliink- 
 ing and saying that the King's service 
 might be benefited thereby, forasmuch 
 as it was possible in the liurry of Ijusiuess 
 they might not have tliought of it at 
 Court, and the expense of sending an ex- 
 press was not consi(leriil)le lo the King's 
 majesty. We have said ihat the nerves of 
 the Clerk of the Acts of the Navy were 
 not heroically strung ; and albeit he had 
 been twice at sea for a short }»ej-io(l with 
 his patron my Lord Sandwich, l*epys was 
 not a practical seaman. His proper and 
 best place, too, was at the Navy-office, 
 where there was no otlier good man of
 
 264 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 business, and where but for him the con- 
 fusion would have been even worse con- 
 founded than it was. Yet one day Pepys 
 had gone down to Gravesend within ear- 
 shot of the Dutch guns, and had looked 
 with a pitying or contemptuous eye upon 
 the fooleries of the idle lords and young 
 gentlemen that were mamiing the batteries 
 there. He and Sir J. Minnes had also 
 succeeded that day in obtaining some 
 money, and had partly paid some of the 
 crews of the ships that were lying at 
 Deptford and Erith. " But, good Lord," 
 said Pepys to himseK, "how backwardly 
 things do move at this pinch ! We our- 
 selves have been so long used to be idle 
 and in despair, that we know not what to 
 do ; and the poor sailors that are ashore 
 have been so long used to be deceived by 
 us as to money, that they won't believe 
 our promises, or come to us now that we 
 have really got some money to give them ! 
 It is an admirable thing to consider how 
 much King and country suffer hereby, and 
 how necessary it is in a State to keep the 
 Kmg's ships always in a good posture and 
 credit ! " 
 
 On his return up the river Pepys had 
 given a few thoughts to his worthy friends 
 at Erith. '^ I wonder," said he to himself, 
 '^how it fares with Sir John Roundtree, 
 who hath been so misused aforetime by the 
 Court that it is a marvel he, at his time of
 
 MISTRESS MAEION IN LONDON. 265 
 
 life, should put on harness or give himself 
 any concern for the King's Majesty. I 
 wish he were safely back again. I wish 
 [for Pepys, even on a day of national 
 calamity and disgrace, could not help 
 dwelling occasionally upon his own little 
 schemes], I ^vish I could get Sir John 
 Eoundtree to trust me with the making of 
 a good match for his ward, for I do think 
 that Mistress Marion — a maiden of most 
 excellent features, and Lord ! what a pretty 
 fortune — would well suit one of my Lord 
 Brouncker's sons, or one of Sir William 
 Coventry's nephews, or one of Commis- 
 sioner Petts' brothers ; and if we are not 
 torn to pieces, and the State do get out of 
 this present trouble, mayhap some match 
 may be made at tlie Navy Board for 
 Marion Hcmingford, and not without some 
 solatium or credit to Samuel Pepys. I 
 have been lucky at such work before now. 
 "Who was it but I, Samuel Pepys, that 
 commenced, carried on, and finally con- 
 cluded the marriage between ray Lord 
 Sandwich's eldest daughter, the Lady 
 Jem, and the eldest son of Sir George 
 ('artorot, that lives over the water there at 
 Dageriham? Ay*', w1k» was it that took 
 the young and rich Mr. Carteret to his 
 first wooing? And Lord! what silly dis- 
 COTU-He w(^ had as to love matters, he being 
 the most awkward man I ever met with in 
 my life as to that business. And who was
 
 266 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 it that taught the young' man wliat to do, 
 and how to take the young lady always by 
 the hand, and what to say to her, and how 
 to discourse with her father and mother 
 and her imcles and amits ? I'faith, Mr. 
 Carteret was so backward in his caresses, 
 and so awkward, that I did nearly all the 
 wooing for him myself. It was I that 
 got the licence and bought the wedding- 
 ring in London, where the plague was 
 raging at the time. For a wedding it was 
 but dull. But the modesty and gravity of 
 that business was so decent, that it was 
 ten times more delightful to me than 
 twenty times the merriment and jollity 
 would have been. True, the bridegroom 
 was but a laggard. Ha ! ha ! but it is not 
 given to all men to be so brisk as Samuel 
 Pepys ; at times I do wonder how a tailor 
 could ever have been my father. True 
 again, that my Lady Jem was mighty sad 
 on the wedding-day, and has never been 
 very merry since ; but then, where could 
 she have got so rich and safe a husband 
 as I fomid her, and her father and mother 
 forced her to take ? She has six horses to 
 her coach any day she likes ; and Marion 
 Hemingford may soon do the same, if we 
 can but drive that young Roundhead, 
 Walter Wynton, out of her conceit, and 
 bring Sir John Roundti^ee to reason. Of 
 my Lady Roundtree we are sure." 
 
 And, in fact, her ladyship had already
 
 MISTRESS BIARIOIN IX LONDON. 267 
 
 opened the whole of Marion's little story, 
 and the story of Walter and the duel, or, as 
 her ladyship called it, foul and rebellious 
 murder, to Pepys and his wife, together 
 with the plans she had long entertained 
 of matchmg Marion to greatness. 
 
 " I wonder," said Pepys, " returning to 
 his match-making cogitations, " what hath 
 become of mine old acquaintance Mrs. 
 Carter, who hath lived with my Lady 
 Sandwich these fifteen years or more, and 
 the sum of all whose discourse and others 
 for her at the wooing-time at Dagenham 
 was that I would get her a good husband 
 — which I promised to do, but have not 
 been able to get done. I must see to that. 
 Perhaps Sir John Roundtree's head man 
 hath no wife. Mrs. Carter, thou shalt be 
 thought of. It is rather lucky that Master 
 Walter hath gotten into this trouble If my 
 wife does not make maid Marion fall in love 
 witli a t<\\v^\ life and plays, aii<l fine clothes 
 and grand equipages, then my name is not 
 Samuel Pepys, or the case is hopeless. But, 
 Lord! here am T making fine schemes with 
 a sword ()V<>r my lifad, iiiid tho country in 
 danger, ami this shame hanging upon it! 
 Bessy, dear, Will Hewer, I would fain know 
 how ye are speeding with the money bags. 
 May the night !)(■ <lark when ye hide the 
 
 gold — 
 
 ' Come, thick night — ' 
 
 as the players say."
 
 268 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 It was well for Marion that Pepys's 
 anxieties about his money, and his nume- 
 rous occupations, and the absence for 
 several days of Mrs. Pepys from London, 
 stopped the current of the matrimonial 
 scheme, as otherwise she might have been 
 more annoyed than she was. For nearly a 
 week the Clerk of the Acts was too busy 
 to do more than pay a ^jing visit to the 
 ladies in the Minories ; but he put a trusty 
 and knowing servant in attendance on 
 them, and they were otherwise well taken 
 care of by their host and hostess. One 
 day, when the troops had all marched, and 
 the town seemed very quiet. Lady Round- 
 tree must needs go to the Court end of 
 town to see what was doing on the Mall 
 and in the parks, and to try if she could 
 not get a glimpse of my Lady Castle- 
 m.aine's laced smocks, which, as Sir Ralph 
 Spicer had assured her, were frequently 
 hung out at the back of her lodging in 
 the Privy Garden. Marion, whose heart 
 was too sad to think of amusement, and 
 whose taste was too good to find it in the 
 frivolities which pleased her ladyship, and 
 who thought it a sin to seek for pleasure 
 in the midst of a national calamity, and 
 while her kind old guardian was exposed 
 to danger, and her own true love a fugitive, 
 begged to stay at home with the good 
 hostess, and was at last allowed so to do, 
 though not without sundry strong expres-
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 269 
 
 sions of her ladyship's astonishment and 
 disjileasure. Her ladyship set forth in a 
 hired vehicle, attended by the host, the 
 butler, her own woman, and two of Sir 
 John's Kentish footmen, so that in point 
 of attendance at least she made a consider- 
 able show. When she retmiied she was 
 in an ecstasy at all that she had seen, and 
 wondered how she could have supported 
 life so long- in such a clownish dismal 
 place as Erith. Marion handed her a 
 letter which she had just received from a 
 messenger dispatched by her guardian. 
 Her ladyship threw the letter upon the 
 table, and said, " Sii' John, thou art a fool, 
 and I have been a fool in being so sub- 
 missive a wife ! But I will bear it no 
 longer. A mouthful of Court air hath put 
 a new spirit intcj me, and I will do as 
 other ladies do — I will liv(! a month every 
 year in London, though we should part 
 company. Sir John Kouudtrcf." This idea 
 was so uppermost in her mind that it was 
 some time before her ladyship would read 
 the kniglit's l(;tt<*r, or hear Marion read 
 it to her. At last, however, she said, 
 "Child, tell me what Sir John saitli; my 
 eyes are somewhat tired with tlic^ splendour 
 of the sights I have seen, and the old 
 gentleman writ^^s but a crabbed hand." 
 Marion iilinost smiled inwardly, knowing 
 that lier ladyship was no great ailepi iit 
 reading any kind of writing ; but she in-
 
 270 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAT. 
 
 stantly broke open the seal and read with 
 a right joyous heart that her guardian was 
 in good health and condition ; that he had 
 done some little service in carrying some 
 brave Kentish lads with some arms and 
 stores to Chatham, and in calling out the 
 Kentish militia ; that as the Dutch had 
 quitted the Medway after doing all the 
 harm they could, he had come back across 
 the country to Gravesend, where he now 
 was at the head of a band of volunteers, to 
 assist in erecting batteries, and to be ready 
 to march to any point on the banks of the 
 Thames, into which river the Dutch had 
 again sent some of their ships. The 
 knight further said that he had been to 
 his house at Erith, and had fomid all 
 things there in good order, and as he had 
 left them, except only that the monkey 
 which Sir Ralph Spicer had given to her 
 ladyship was no more. " That mischievous 
 ape," said Sir John, " after getting loose 
 into the flower-garden, and destroying all 
 Marion's pretty flowers, was found one 
 morning hanging from an apple-tree at the 
 end of his own chain ; but whether he met 
 his fate at the hands of Hodge the 
 gardener, or hanged himself in a fit of 
 spleen brought on by the solitude of the 
 place, I have not been at the trouble to 
 determine." Here her ladyship interrupted 
 the reading of the letter by saying that it 
 was all the doing of that monster Hodge,
 
 MISTRESS 3IAEI0N IN LONDON. 271 
 
 and that he ought to be hanged for it. 
 ^'And," continued Marion, readmg the 
 knight's letter, " as that outlandish 
 talking-bird was reported to me and 
 proved by mine own ears, to be much 
 addicted to speak evil words, and indecent, 
 and such as ill-befit a virtuous and delicate 
 maiden to hear, I have thought fit to send 
 it to Mike Woodenspoon, our barber and 
 constable, who hath engaged to teach the 
 bird better things." " Poor dear Sir 
 Ralph ! " exclaimed her ladyship, clasping 
 her hands and almost wringing them; 
 " little didst thou think that thy dear, 
 pretty, mischievous monkey would be 
 hanged like a common thief, and thy 
 pretty prattling bird be given over to a 
 common village barber ! 'Tis almost 
 enough to make thee rise from thy gory 
 bed ! Ah ! ah ! Sir John, this is tyranny 
 such as no to^v^l -living dame would 
 bear. But read on, toll me more of my 
 wrongs. . . . But child, what ails 
 thee? Why art so muteV Wliy so red 
 and now sopalo? Why dost drop the 
 letter? Nay, sweet Marion, what is it 
 stops thy breath thus '? Is there a sequel 
 of woe? Does the letter end in bad news 
 from my linsbiuid ? God forelVuid ! " 
 
 Her ladyship's better feelings had now 
 the upper liand, and thinking no more 
 abfmt courts and parks, or Spieers, apes, 
 parrots, or any other mean thing, she
 
 272 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 clasped Marion in her arms, who was near 
 tainting and falling upon the floor, and 
 called aloud for help and for vinegar, and 
 cold water and burnt feathers, and prayed 
 an audible and most fervent prayer that 
 no evil might befall her good knight, her 
 kind and indulgent husband. Marion 
 drank of some water and was well again 
 without further aid. Her ladyship took 
 up the letter she had let fall, but not 
 bemg able to read it, she laid it upon the 
 table and implored Marion to tell her the 
 worst of the news that was in it, and not 
 to conceal anything from her. 
 
 "There follows no news but good 
 news," said Marion. 
 
 "Then why that tremor and that 
 faint ? " said her ladyship. 
 
 " Bid these good people leave the room, 
 and I will read the rest of the letter," said 
 Marion with a deep blush. 
 
 The two handmaidens and the kind 
 hostess who had rmi at her ladyship's loud 
 call, quitted the room ; and then, with 
 many more blushes, Marion read a post- 
 scriptum to the knight's letter, which was 
 considerably longer than the letter itself, 
 and which related with honest warmth the 
 noble exploits performed by Walter 
 Wynton and Tom of the Woods in the 
 improvised battery on the Medway. 
 
 " These things," said the knight, " were 
 specially brought to my knowledge by an
 
 MISTRESS MARIOX IX LONDON. 273 
 
 honourable Kentisli gentleman, who saw 
 Master Walter running from the fame he 
 had earned, and by a general officer of 
 high repute, who saith so good a deed 
 hath not been done in war ; and I also, 
 from the cherrv-orchards of Gillinofham. 
 Old see with mine own eyes Van Ghent 
 put to his wits' end, and his ships brought 
 to a dead stop, and then well hammered 
 on their ribs by that little battery, albeit 
 I Uttle thought that Master Walter was 
 there. Whither he hath now betaken 
 himself I know not. But this I do know, 
 that, though he may think otherwise, he 
 hath no longer any evil consequences to 
 fear from the affair on Plumstead Com- 
 mon. None of tlie courtiers and officers 
 of wliom I liavo liad speech know anything 
 of that duello, or care one straw for what 
 hath befallen my unwise and unlucky 
 kinsman Sir I?;ilpli — wh(tse sins may the 
 Lord forgive ! — and tlio Duke of Albemarle 
 and all the great Lords know all about the 
 l>attery. Moreover, the father of this 
 youth. Captain Wynton, against whom I 
 have been too uncharitable and unneigh- 
 bourly in the days that are past, liath 
 compf)rt«'d himself nuj.st manfully, and like 
 a man whose lieart was all for his country. 
 Sick and feeble as he was, and grieving as 
 he was for the fliglit of his only son, and 
 exaspei-ated, as he tells nie he was, by 
 the belief that the courtiers would accuse 
 
 18
 
 274 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 that honourable youth of a foul murder, 
 he went down to the King's ships at 
 Deptford that morning we left Erith, and, 
 by presents of money and the old influence 
 he had over the minds of the seamen, he 
 got many to return to their duty, and so 
 got some few of the ships in a condition to 
 fight the enemy. And since that day the 
 said Captain Wynton hath travailed _ day 
 and night in the good cause ; and albeit he 
 hath not been able to prevent many evil 
 and silly things which have been done by 
 order of some of our great men, he hath 
 himself planned and executed nearly every- 
 thing that hath been well done. Haying 
 with mine own eyes seen much of this, I 
 could no longer refuse the hand of friend- 
 ship — and Wynton and I are friends. He 
 is now \ymg m the Hope with a few well- 
 manned and well - governed ships, the 
 which, though not by warrant or commis- 
 sion under his command, will certainly 
 obey no orders but his. I would we could 
 know where his son hath bestowed 
 himself." 
 
 Before the over-delighted and agitated 
 Marion had finished reading this long post- 
 script, her fears having all vanished, her 
 ladyship had relapsed into her bad humour. 
 She had never liked Walter, chiefly because 
 he had never flattered her ; and she could 
 not forgive him for killing Sir Ealph, who 
 had flattered her to her heart's content.
 
 MISTRESS MARION IN LONDON. 275 
 
 She saw in the sudden friendship between 
 Sir John and the Roundhead captain a bar 
 to her great scheme for marrying Marion 
 to a lord. But, just as she was on the 
 point of giving expression to some of her 
 displeasure, voices were heard on the stairs 
 saying, "Mrs. Pepys, 'tis the sweet Mrs. 
 Pepys " ; and m the next instant the gay 
 and pretty wife of the Clerk of the Acts of 
 the Navy swam into the room. She had 
 just returned from the country, which she 
 liked no more than Lady Roundtree did ; 
 and was very cheerful and talkative, for 
 she had got all the gold safely buried in 
 her father-in-law's garden ; and she had 
 bought a span new dress, and Pepys had 
 just vowed that he had never seen her look 
 so handsome in all his bom days. 
 
 Mrs. Pepys was not a person to be dis- 
 liked, for herself, by anyone ; but Marion 
 had seen ladies she liked much better 
 (though good-natured, she was so worldly, 
 and so vain and fine and wordy) ; and 
 though of a forgiving nature, she could 
 not ((uitf pardon her for ccitain reflections 
 she had let drop in lier lieariiig upon the 
 subject of matrimony. On the oiher side. 
 Lady Roundtree was perfectly fascinated 
 with Pcpys's wife. Marion soon withdrew 
 and h'f't ilifiri together. Her ladysliip told 
 her dear friend all about the postscri[)tum 
 to Sir John's letter, and made a mournful 
 comment upon it. Mrs. Pepys applied her
 
 276 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 ingenuity to dissipate this uneasiness. 
 " 'Tis certainly unlucky," said she, " that 
 these things should have befallen. But, 
 after all that may be said and done, the 
 young Eoundhead may not find it so 
 easy to get the King's pardon for slaying 
 a coui'tier and gallant like Sir Ealph 
 Spicer. So cheer up, my lady."
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 The Prophet Come to Town. 
 
 Tom of the Woods did not recover quite so 
 soon as he and his friends expected. For 
 several days he suffered a slow fever, and 
 even when that was gone, something more 
 difficult to cure remained behind ; for a 
 bullet which had entered at his shoulder, 
 had lodged in such a way that our not very 
 skilful Kentish mediciners could not get at 
 it. Walter and Will Gaff attended on him 
 with great care and affection. One day, 
 after a good sound doze, Tom said to 
 Walter, who was alone with him in the 
 room — "I have been dreaming a dream, 
 in which it was made appear that the 
 whole of my life since the day I got this 
 deep cut across my brow has been nothing 
 but a dream. Master Walter, give me 
 those good housewife shears, that I may 
 cut off this board; for T will be a prophet 
 and honnit no longer; I)ui try and tiiink 
 and live like; otli<'r rru-n. I fear that in the 
 time of my illusioTi I may have said and 
 done presumptuous and unholy thiiigs ; 
 but 'twas tliis wound, Mastor Walter, 
 'twas this hurt on tlir^ brain, a)id tlion the 
 harro wings and persecutions I met with.
 
 278 THE DUTCH IN THE MED WAT. 
 
 But 'tis over now — I feel as if something 
 had been taken out of my head — so give 
 me the shears, and let me destroy this 
 evidence of my past madness." 
 
 Seeing that he was perfectly reasonable 
 and composed, Walter handed him the 
 scissors, and between them the long beard 
 was presently cut off. 
 
 When Will Gaff came in to reheve 
 guard by the bedside, he saw Tom sitting 
 up in bed, and his beard lying on the floor 
 at the bed-foot. Will could scarcely be- 
 lieve his eyes ; and so he rubbed them and 
 looked again, first at Tom, and next at the 
 floor. There was no mistake — here lay 
 the grey tresses of the beard, and there 
 was Tom without his beard. So Will gave 
 a whistle and a tug to either side of his 
 nethermost garment, and then said — 
 *' Singe me, old Tom, but now you look 
 like a Christian, and like other people ! 
 But let me finish you off mth a clean 
 shave. I always shaved my mess when I 
 was afloat, and the ship chaplain and the 
 purser to boot." 
 
 Tom gladly assented ; and with the well- 
 sharpened razors of the Kentish farmer. 
 Will Gaff shaved the ex-prophet to perfec- 
 tion. Of late Will had only practised 
 upon the stubble of his own chin ; and he 
 was so proud of this performance, that he 
 vowed he had got at Tom's bristles a day's 
 march behind the skin. Then he gazed at
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 279 
 
 Tom as a ciirious connoisseur would look at 
 a picture ; and after another whistle, he 
 said tliat he could hardly have thought that 
 the old chap had been so handsome. 
 
 For some time before this Walter had 
 seen symptoms of a returning sanity in the 
 doughty old trooper. This might have 
 been partly caused by the very copious 
 blood-letting which Tom had got in the 
 fight outside the battery. The woimd 
 across the opposite side of the head may 
 also have done some good ; as men whose 
 intellects have been injured by one wound 
 in that important region, have been known 
 to recover their wits years after in con- 
 sequence of a second wound there. But 
 Walter preferred believing that the ex- 
 citement of patriotism liad quieted the 
 stimulus of insanity and fanaticism, and 
 that Tom's mind, being suddenly thrown 
 upon a new object, and kept to that one 
 object for two or three days — which had 
 been days of mijst active operation and 
 brave doings — had been enabled to recover 
 the balance wliich had been so long lost. 
 But porhaps after all, Will Gatf's explana- 
 tion of the plieiiojueiioii was the best. 
 *' Our friend Tom, d'ye see [Will used to 
 say afterwards] , never hid a black heart 
 under his hatclies, like; Joel Wyke, and so 
 he has always had a friend up aloft; and 
 80, d'ye see, in good time he hath been 
 brought back to his senses."
 
 280 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 One thing was quite certain — Tom was 
 now as sane as most men, and a great deal 
 saner than many great men who then 
 mismanaged and disgraced poor old Eng- 
 land. As he continued to suffer much 
 inconvenience from the ball, and as no 
 chirurgeon could be found in those parts 
 skiKul enough to extract it, Walter re- 
 solved to have him conveyed to London ; 
 and as soon as he seemed able to bear the 
 journey, Tom was laid in a horse litter. 
 If they had fallen among a people less 
 kind-hearted or less well-to-do in the 
 world than these good Kentish men of the 
 Hundi'ed of Hoo, there might have been 
 sundry impediments offered to their pro- 
 ceeding; for Master Walter had been 
 lightened of his purse while in the mob at 
 Ratcliffe Highway, and he, Tom, and Will 
 Gaff had not a stiver among them. But 
 his kind host and neighbours gladly lent 
 Walter twenty good guineas, and clothes 
 and horses for the journey, refusing to take 
 a note for the amount. Some of the best 
 of them would have accompanied the 
 party ; but as the Dutch fleet was still 
 lying at the Nore, Walter recommended 
 them to stop at home and attend to the 
 defence of their families and property. 
 " Well ! " said the honest yeomen, " it 
 shall be as it pleases you; we have kept 
 your secret while 3'ou have been here ; but 
 if you should want friends to speak out and
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 281 
 
 up for you in London or elsewhere, even if 
 it should be in the presence of the black- 
 faced chap at Whitehall, we will all come 
 at your call." 
 
 The party then set off, the ex-prophet 
 being carried in the litter, and Walter and 
 Gaff being well mounted. The deficient 
 parts of their wardrobe had been made up 
 by the farmers, so that both the young 
 gentleman and the tarpaulin had a slouched 
 hat and a good serge doublet. Walter on 
 his Kentish nag, and in this attire, might 
 have passed very well for a young farmer ; 
 but as for Will Gaff — there was hardly any 
 saying what he could pass for, for the 
 sailor part of him could not be disguised, 
 and he managed his horse as if lie had 
 been steering a ship. Avoiding the fre- 
 quented roads as much as was possible, 
 they shaped their course for Erith. They 
 knew how to get quiet accoiiiinodation 
 among sure friends in the neighljimrhood 
 of that place, and it was dou])tt'ul whether 
 poor Tom could bear a longer journey in 
 one day. But it must not be concealed, 
 that Walter (tn his own private account 
 wished to stoj) at Krifh, wliith(;r he half 
 hoped tliat Sir .Joliii Roundtree and 
 Marion had returned. They were kindly 
 ent^'rtaiiH'd in tin- r-ottago of" a woo(liii:in, 
 an old and fast friend of Tom, wlio did not 
 cease to be a friend — as there were many 
 that did — because Tom had ceased to be a
 
 282 THE BUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 prophet. In the dusk of that evening, 
 Walter and Will Gaff, with theu' slouched 
 hats pulled well over their faces, went into 
 the village in quest of information ; for, 
 with the blood of Sir John's kinsman upon 
 his head, Walter felt that he could not 
 present himself at the good knight's house. 
 
 *' There sits a barber at his shop-door," 
 said Will ; " and in whatsoever land I 
 have been the barber is the best of 
 gossips." 
 
 '^ 'Tis Mike Woodenspoon, the con- 
 stable," said Walter ; " and Mike knows 
 my voice too well for any dress or dark- 
 ness to disguise me." 
 
 " Then do you stay where you are, and 
 I will hail him," said Will. 
 
 Mike, who was busied in teaching a 
 better vocabulary to the parrot, was pre- 
 sently accosted by Gaff, who went to 
 work with more ingenuity than might 
 have been expected from him. After 
 replying to Mike's professional question, 
 whether he should trim his beard, Will 
 entered into a dissertation upon the art of 
 shaving in general ; and told the Erith 
 professor that his own father had been 
 one of the first men of England at taking 
 off other men's beards, and that he him- 
 self had been in a manner bred to the 
 profession : and when Mike's heart began 
 to open, Will offered to show him a trick 
 of shaving he had learned up the Arches
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 283 
 
 among the Tui'ks — "who be [said Will] 
 the best shavers in the world, although 
 thej shave the crown of their heads instead 
 of their chins." Mike was so pleased that 
 he sent for a cup of good ale ; and over 
 this beverage Gaff got all the information 
 that he, or rather Master Walter, wanted; 
 the cream of it being that Mistress Marion 
 and Lady Roundtree were comfortably 
 lodged at the hostel in the Minories, and 
 that Sir John Eoundtree and Captain 
 Wynton, and all manner of honourable 
 gentlemen, were down at Gravesend mak- 
 ing the defences of the river so strong that 
 there could be no more fear of the Dutch 
 coming up. 
 
 On the follo^ving morning, at a very 
 early hour, tlie journey was resumed. Our 
 travellers could no longer shun observa- 
 tion, for every road and path was thronged, 
 and militia and other troops were march- 
 ing and countermarching in all directions. 
 Tom in his litter, however, was taken to 
 be some pour sailor \vouiide<l in th(i affair 
 at the Medway; so few questions were 
 put, and no interruption offered to the 
 progress of the party by any one. It 
 grieved Walter to go througli Charlton 
 without riding aside to his father's house 
 to tell the servants lie was alive and well ; 
 but as he knew that his fatluT's house- 
 keeper was aliiK^st as great a gossip as 
 Mike Woodenspoon, and as the village was
 
 284 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 crowded with court gallants and ofl&cers of 
 the King's guard, he thought it best to 
 bring the flap of his farmer's hat still 
 more over his face, and to push forward as 
 quickly as the motion of Tom's horse-litter 
 would allow. Since quitting his conceal- 
 ment in the Hundred of Hoo, Walter's 
 heart had been gladdened by the reports 
 he heard of the patriotism, activity, and 
 Tuianimity of all classes of the nation ; 
 but upon Blackheath he saw and heard 
 that which convinced him the madness and 
 immorality of the times were not cured 
 in all quarters. At a sort of encampment 
 the soldiers of the King's guards were 
 reviling some of the train-bands of the city, 
 and calling them cuckolds. Roundheads, 
 and crop-ears. Some of these guardsmen 
 were singing in insulting chorus — 
 
 " My lord mayor and ye aldermen, 
 Your gowns must make ye breeches ; 
 And if ye do retort agen, 
 We'll make you eat your speeches. 
 
 O brave Common Councilmen ! 
 
 O brave trained bands ! 
 
 What ! do you think to get again 
 
 The staff in your own hands P " 
 
 Even some of the officers of the guards 
 were joining their men in these indecorous 
 exercises of the tongue. 
 
 " 'Tis well for these profligate gallants," 
 said Tom, rising in his litter, "that old 
 Skippon is not here."
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 285 
 
 "But Skippon or no Sldppon," said 
 "Will, " those citizens would not stand it if 
 they were not so few." 
 
 As our friends were descending Green- 
 wich Hill they overtook a few sailors and 
 petty ofiicers, who were walking leisurely 
 towards London ; and Gaff asking them 
 what cheer, they fell into talk. 
 
 ''Never was worse cheer," said one of 
 the petty officers, an old man with a 
 shrewd countenance. "Never was worse 
 cheer for England ! I have weathered 
 many a gale in my time, but this last will 
 be the death of me." 
 
 " Tut, shipmate," said Will, " talk not 
 of dying ! Our flag shall be made clean 
 again, man. This present ruffle is over. 
 At least the Thames is made safe." 
 
 "Perliaps yes, perhaps no," said the 
 other. " I take it, it is pretty much as de 
 Ruyter and Van Ghent may chance to be 
 darintr or ovor-cautitjiis. In thiiu* ear, 
 fi'iend, I may UA\ thee that, witli half their 
 force, they might yet come up tliis river 
 and bum every ship in it, in spite of all 
 the ships that have been sunk by our land- 
 admirals." 
 
 "'Tis a crii*'l pass indeed," said Will 
 Gaff, "when Englishmen sink their ships 
 instead of figlitijig them." 
 
 "The sights I have seen down yonder," 
 said the old boatswain, "be enough t^) 
 drive an old sailor stark mad. Nothing
 
 286 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 all day but patteraro batteries, and horse- 
 soldiers and foot - soldiers scrimmaging* 
 about, and a set of debauched, damning, 
 swearing rogues of young officers and lord- 
 Imgs, doing or ordering all that ought not 
 to be done. This is a sad instance of the 
 condition we are in ! " 
 
 "But," said Walter, "there be now 
 officers who know their business, and men 
 of worshipful behaviour." 
 
 " Aye ! " said the boatswain, " but they 
 cannot luido what -hath been done. 
 Prince Eupert, who may be a very good 
 officer of horse, for all that I know to the 
 contrary, has been sinking ships at Dept- 
 f ord, Woolwich, and elsewhere, where they 
 offer no impediment at high-water; and 
 such hath been the confusion among the 
 King's people that, instead of taking un- 
 finished vessels or old ones of small value, 
 they have scuttled and sunk some of the 
 most precious ships in the river, and sun- 
 dry which had been completely fitted out 
 for fire-ships at great charge, and which, 
 if they had been sent down at the proper 
 time, would have singed the Dutch::] an's 
 beard. They have sunk the Frav.hiu, one 
 of the King's ships, which had long been 
 loaded for supply of other ships with stores 
 to a great value ; they have scuttled another 
 ship with a rich cargo on board, and have 
 made the same use of a rich foreign and 
 neutral vessel, that had the faith of the
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 287 
 
 nation for her security. Worse than this, 
 thej were going to make a bridge of boats 
 for the passage of cavah*y, as though the 
 river and the shipping were to be defended 
 by troops of horse." 
 
 "Well," said Gaff, "mad as they may 
 be at Whitehall, surely some of these fools 
 will pay for it." 
 
 " Not they," said the boatswain ; 
 " every one of them will say that he acted 
 under orders ; and those who gave the 
 orders and made these precious plans will 
 severally d^ny what they have done, and 
 throw the blame each man from his own 
 shoulders to those of somebody else ; and 
 in truth they were all commanding and 
 ordering together. And the big Lords be 
 too big to be touched, and too strong at 
 Court : perchance they may overhaul some 
 poor devil of a captain or third-rate 
 commission or-m an, but that will be all, 
 take my word for it." 
 
 " But I know what they deserve," said 
 Gaff, "and what those deserve who 
 stopped the pay of tlie seamen and ad- 
 vispfl his Majesty to fit out no flcc't this 
 spring." 
 
 Quoth the old petty officer, " And so do 
 I — a coil of rope at the yard-arm for the 
 worst of them. ;md tlif rapstnn, 1»ill)oes, 
 ducking, nnd kccl-hiiuling for the n^st of 
 them. Thf dislionour they have brought 
 upon us is never to be wiped off."
 
 288 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 On drawing- near London Bridge it was 
 necessary for our travellers to settle where 
 they should take up their abode, a point 
 which had not yet been determined. As 
 none of them knew much about town, and 
 as the greater part of what they had 
 known of the city had been burned down 
 by the great fire they were somewhat 
 puzzled. As concealment was still held to 
 be necessary, every common tavern-keeper 
 was not to be trusted. Tom said that 
 they might still find quarters at Hiram 
 Bingley's; but Walter could not for a 
 moment think of returning to that cave of 
 fanatics and consj)irators, nor did Tom 
 upon reflection relish the idea. At last 
 Will Gaff bethought him of a house of 
 entertainment in Water Lane, which was 
 kept by the mother of one of his old ship- 
 mates. 
 
 " 'Tis but a poorish place for a gentle- 
 man of quality like you. Master Walter," 
 said Will ; " but Mother Sherman is a 
 clean and notable woman, and as trusty 
 and honest a soul as ever broke bread." 
 
 Walter thought this house would do 
 very well, for it was near the Minories, 
 whither he had resolved to repair in his 
 disguise as soon as he should see Tom 
 comfortably lodged and attended to. Poor 
 Tom, who was suffering considerable pain 
 from his jolting, was only anxious to get 
 to a bed somewhere. The party therefore
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 289 
 
 made for Mother Sherman's with all the 
 speed they could. 
 
 In the narrowest part of Old Tower 
 Street, near the end of Mark Lane and 
 the ancient church of A 11 hallows Barking, 
 they were brought to a sudden stoj) by 
 some carts and trucks which were carrying- 
 stores to the Tower, and which completely 
 blocked up tlie way, so that neither the 
 litter nor a single horse could pass. Walter 
 dismounted to see whether he covdd induce 
 the drivers to move or make room for him, 
 and was in the act of addi-essing a few 
 courteous words to the men, when he heard 
 a voice which made him start as " the 
 cry of fire " makes men start " in populous 
 cities." It was a voice blustering and 
 swearing in the rear of the horse-litter, 
 and cursing Will Gaff for blocking up the 
 way to men of honour and office ; to which 
 Will was replying by pointing forward to 
 the carts and trucks that seemed wheel- 
 locked and vvetlged all together. Eetrac- 
 ing the few steps he had made on foot, 
 Walter saw in the middle of the narrow 
 way, just behind tlie litter, Sir Ralph 
 Spicer and anfjthcr gentleman in a stu- 
 pendous periwig. Somewhat thinner he 
 was and paler than he had been on J'luni- 
 stead Common ; bui still lie was visibly 
 and unmistakably Sir Jialpli Spicer, in 
 broad daylight, and with nothing ghostly 
 about him, for the jxileness of his face was 
 
 10
 
 290 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 relieved by tlie redness of his nose, and by 
 that thin streak of red across the cheek- 
 bone which rarely forsakes men addicted 
 to strong drinks. Yet as Walter recalled 
 the last thrust he had given him, and his 
 fall into that deep pit, he thought that he 
 must be deceived by some extraordinary 
 resemblance of voice and person — that this 
 impatient and swaggering cavaliero might 
 be some twin-brother of Sir Ralph. But 
 poor Tom, who had raised himself in the 
 litter at the first sound of the well- 
 remembered voice, and who was looking 
 steadfastly at the cavalier, said, as 
 Walter came up to him, '^ 'Tis the Lord's 
 doing, and wonderful in mine eyes ; but, 
 as I hve, here's the courtier you van- 
 quished and left in the gravel-pit ; and 
 seemingly not much the worse for the hole 
 you drilled through him." 
 
 Walter continued gazing at the knight, 
 from whom he wn.j not three yards 
 distant : he could not take his eyes off his 
 face to look at his companion or at any 
 other object ; but presently the gentleman 
 in the ambrosial locks said, in a good- 
 tempered, persuasive tone, " Patience, Sir 
 Ralph Spicer — patience, dear Sir Ralph ; 
 these fellows cannot move out of our way 
 until the carts get out of their way. We 
 had better turn back and take another 
 road, for I should not like to soil my best 
 suit. We shall get to the Minories by
 
 THE PROPmW' COME TO TOWN. 291 
 
 the time the ladies are ready to receive 
 
 us." 
 
 Stop ! " cried Walter, springing 
 towards them, and nearly overtiu-ning the 
 litter. 
 
 " What would'st thou, young man ? " 
 said the gentleman in the periwig, whom 
 Walter had now time to recognise as Mr. 
 Pepys, but of whom he took no further 
 heed. 
 
 "Sir Ealph Spicer," said Walter, 
 grasping the cavalier's arm, as if to assure 
 himself still further that this was no 
 vision, " I am glad to see you thus ! Do 
 you not know me ? " 
 
 " Sirrah ! " quoth Sir Ealph, " I have 
 no acquaintance with, men of your classis. 
 Take your hand from my arm ; this 
 familiarity ill becomes one of your condi- 
 tion." 
 
 Walter, wlio had spokon in a husky 
 voice very unlike his oivlinary one, still 
 grasped the cavalier's arm, Ijut, in an 
 instant or two, recollecting himself, and 
 what coat and hat he had got on, he let 
 go the arm, and taking off his slouched 
 Kentish I'clt, and lodkiiig at the Knight 
 close in the face, lif siiid : "Do you 
 know me now, Sir Ralpli ? Have you 
 forgotten PI urn stead Common ? " 
 
 The cavalier sfcppcfl buck several j)iU'os, 
 saying nothing and looking somewhat 
 sheepish ; but Pepys said, "As I live, 'tis
 
 292 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Master Walter Wynton, of whom there 
 hath been evil report as well as good." 
 
 Giving- only a slight nod of recognition 
 to Pepys, whose countenance was rather 
 confused, Walter stepped up to the cava- 
 lier, who now leaned against the wall of a 
 house with his hand not upon, yet not far 
 from, the hilt of his sword. 
 
 '^You know me now, Sir Ralph," said 
 Walter ; " and I say again, I am glad to 
 see you here, for as much as you had 
 wronged me, your life-blood lay heavy on 
 my soul. Only cross not my path again, 
 and have a care of what you do and say 
 there in the Minories." 
 
 " Mr. Wynton," said the knight, " you 
 had me at a vantage — my nerves were out 
 of order that morning, and my foot slipped 
 on the heath, and. . . ." 
 
 "If you are not satisfied. Sir Ralph," said 
 Walter, "we had better meet again in a 
 more regular manner and in place of your 
 own choosing ; for, though I like not these 
 duellos when my head is cool, I will bear 
 no slur upon my honoiir. If there was 
 vantage or foul play, 'twas all on your 
 side, and you know it." 
 
 " It was so, and I was vdtness there- 
 unto," said Tom, looking out of the litter, 
 and looking so ghastly pale that Pepys 
 almost shuddered at the sight of him. 
 
 Sir Rali^h, who had not the remotest 
 wish to measui-e swords again^ and who
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 293 
 
 felt it would be useless to tiy and play the 
 bully, said he thought it would be better 
 to let the matter remain where it was, as 
 a recent court of honour had decided it 
 would be wrongf to fis^ht twice in one 
 quarrel. Pepys said he was most decidedly 
 of the same opinion ; and that, as a mob 
 of people was gathering round them, they 
 had better part. The Clerk of the Acts 
 was indeed very anxious to be gone, no 
 man loving discord less, or hating fighting 
 more, than he did. But Tom, who had 
 heard every word, and who knew Pepys's 
 intermeddling character, and the reasons 
 which Walter had for disliking Sir Ralj)h's 
 visit to the Minories, said he had a word 
 to speak in Mr. Pepys's ear, of great con- 
 cernment — a secret to tell him which none 
 else must hear. Pepys did not much relish 
 the looks of such an interlocutor, but the 
 bait of a secret was what he could never 
 resist; so, upon assuraTices from Will 
 Gaif, who was holding the horses, tliat 
 the sick man was in a sound state of 
 mind, the Ch-rk of the Acts leaned his 
 head over thf litter. 
 
 "Samuel Pepys! Oli, S;mmel ! " said 
 Tom, in a solemn and awful whisper : 
 *'Thou art a great man now, and ;i loyal, 
 and all for King and high Clnirch ; but dost 
 remember the thirtieth of January, and 
 * Let the memory of the wicked perish ' V " 
 
 "Hush!" said Pepys, trembling in his
 
 294 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 shoes ; " hush, man, there be things not 
 to be said even in a whisjjer ! But how 
 earnest thou by that knowledo-e? What 
 art thou?" 
 
 "A very lowly man," said Tom, "but 
 one who well knew both thee and thy 
 father the tailor, and who knows others 
 who knew ye both well when ye used to 
 bring home General Harrison's breeches, 
 and make such speeches among the Lord 
 Protector's people that all men took ye for 
 the hottest. . . ." 
 
 " Name it not, friend," said Pepys, who 
 had a cold sweat on his brow; "name it 
 not to living man. I will give thee gold 
 to keep this secret." 
 
 "Samuel Pepys," said Tom, "I want 
 not money — I care not for thy gold, and 
 thou canst best tell whether it hath been 
 honestly come by. But listen ! Cast 
 loose this reprobate. Sir Ralph. No more 
 of thy match-makings, or thy doings like 
 those at Dagenham, or I will proclaim all 
 that I know of thee by sound of trumpet 
 on Tower Hill ! " 
 
 " Lord ! Lord ! " said Pepys, shaking all 
 over like a jelly ; " but how camest thou 
 to the knowledge of all this ? Who and 
 what art thou? " 
 
 "I am he that was Tom of the Woods." 
 
 Pepys trembled still more, and the 
 sweat on his brow was colder. 
 
 "Priend Pepys," said Sir Ealph, who
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 295 
 
 was very impatient to be gone, " what are 
 you talking- so long about with that sick 
 man, who perhaps hath the plague upon 
 him." 
 
 At any other time the word plague 
 would have made Pepys scamper ; but now 
 he stood where he was by the litter, and 
 after saying, *' Anon, anon," to Sir Ralph, 
 he whispered to Tom, "Friend, I will 
 purchase thy silence with any service that 
 I can do : but prithee what else dost thou 
 know of me ? " 
 
 " Much," said Tom, " much ; but especi- 
 ally this, that thou art a great coward; 
 and from this one fact I feel assured that 
 thou wilt not risk exposure in provoking 
 my sure vengeance by intermeddling in 
 the concerns of Master Walter Wynton 
 and Mistress Marion Hemingford." 
 
 " Friend," said P^pys, " only keep my 
 secret, and I will never thwart Master 
 Walter in anything, but befriend him 
 where I may." 
 
 " 'Tis a compact between me and thee,'* 
 said Tom ; "so go and leave me ; for 
 although tliere is no further need for 
 Master Walter to hide himself, I must not 
 have it known just yet where I am about 
 t() abide. . . • Tliere be warrants out 
 against me." 
 
 "We will get tliem called in," said 
 Pepys ; " but nobody will think about tliem 
 now, 80 fear nothing, my dear friend. Tf
 
 296 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 you should need aid, I live hard by, in 
 Seething Lane." 
 
 " I know it," said Tom ; " but leave me. 
 The carts are clearing away, and we may 
 now pass ; so while we go this way, do you 
 go that.'' 
 
 Obeying Tom's signal, Pepys darted up 
 Mark Lane, being closely foUowed by Sir 
 Ralph, who for some seconds past had 
 been foaming with impatience. Our 
 cavalcade moved onward, and soon came 
 to Mother Sherman's, where the ci-devant 
 prophet amused Walter with an account 
 of his whispered colloquy with the Clerk 
 of the Acts. "Perhaps," said Tom, "it 
 needed not; yet still it may be well to 
 have Pepys for a friend, he is such a 
 shifty and clever man ; and I could not 
 withstand the temptation of bringing down 
 his crest, especially as he seemed to be 
 inclined to be less courteous to you. 
 Master Walter, than he ought to have 
 been." 
 
 A good room, with a down bed in it, 
 was procured for the wounded man, and a 
 stable hard by for the horses. Walter's 
 next care was to get a proper surgeon. A 
 messenger and a fee soon brought one of 
 the best in the city ; and before Tom had 
 been two hours under the roof of Mother 
 Sherman the ball, to his instant relief, 
 was removed, and proper medicament 
 applied.
 
 THE PROPHET COME TO TOWN. 297 
 
 Then, leaving the invalid to enjoy rest 
 and sleep, Walter sallied foi-th with Will 
 Gaff to purchase some linen and 
 clothes. The coat and beaver, which 
 Walter procured ready-made, would not 
 have satisfied the critical eye of Samuel 
 Pepys ; but Walter, who was never very- 
 fastidious about these things, was in a 
 great hurry to reach the hostel in the 
 Minories, and so put on the first decent 
 coat and hat he could find. While he was 
 equipping himself at the tailors the Tower 
 guns were heard firing, and proclamation 
 was made in the streets that five of his 
 Majesty's ships, led on by Captain Wynton, 
 had chased twenty Dutch men-of-war from 
 the Lower Hope and had burned one of 
 thpm. 
 
 " This is a blessed omen," said Walter.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 Domestic Peace After War and Shame. 
 
 On the day preceding our hero's arrival 
 in town Pepys had been thrown into con- 
 sternation by learning that Commissioner 
 Phineas Pett had been arrested and thrown 
 into the Tower. Fearing that the same 
 measure would be dealt to others, the 
 Clerk of the Acts had hurried to White- 
 hall to speak with his patrons and pro- 
 tectors, and to provide by other means 
 against the storm. To his no small 
 astonishment the first man he had met 
 in the matted gallery had been Sir Ralph 
 Spicer. Sir Ealph's story had been soon 
 told. That worthy knight had been so 
 fortunate as to fall upon a soft place — 
 upon the sand, rather than upon the 
 gravel, of that broad and deep Plumstead 
 pit; and although Walter's sword had 
 nearly gone through him it had touched 
 no vital part. Faittout had soon run to 
 his assistance, as had also some gravel- 
 diggers who occupied an almost invisible 
 little hut inside the pit. By then- means 
 the blood was staunched, and the fainting 
 knight brought to himself. The pitmen 
 had a dapple donkey, and upon this un-
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 299 
 
 chivalrous animal Sir Ealph had "been 
 conveyed from Plumstead Common to 
 Charlton Place, where Sir William Ducie, 
 the City knight who was as^jiring after 
 Coiirt honoui-s and loftier titles, had given 
 him a tolerably hospitable reception, Sii- 
 Ealph having contrived to convince him, 
 as he had done so many others, that his 
 influence at Whitehall, and especially 
 among the King's women, was great. A 
 tolerably good surgeon had been brought 
 from the neighboui'ing town of Greenwich ; 
 and under his hands the cavalier's wound 
 had been healed in about a fortnight, 
 dm-ing the greater part of which time he 
 had the tine house at Charlton nearly all 
 to himself, as Sir William liad been called 
 to the held witli some of the Kentish 
 militia. This story liad been soon told to 
 Pepvs, who, in return, had told Sir Ralph 
 of the whereabout of Lady Roundtree and 
 Marion ; and as the Clerk of the Acts had 
 met with an encouraging reception at 
 Court, and liad been so brouglit backtothe 
 cheerful, social humoui- wliich was iiiiiural 
 to him, he ha<l readily engaged to conduct 
 Sir Ralph iothe Miiiorics, and present him 
 to the ladies as one risen from the (lead. 
 But Pepys, always cautious, had put off 
 this visit for the following day in order to 
 have time to jtrepiin* the ladies' nerves. 
 "For," said he, "were we to go at once, 
 they might take you for a ghost, my dear
 
 300 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Sir Ealph ; and Mrs. Pepys, who is insepa- 
 rable Avith Lady Romidtree, and who hath 
 shed so many tears for your supposed fate, 
 is a silly creature in some things, and some- 
 what subject to fits." 
 
 " And certainly," said Sir Ealph, " my 
 too sudden appearance might be too much 
 for the nerves of Lady Roimdtree. As for 
 Mistress Marion, who must have been the 
 means of setting that peppery yoimg 
 Eoundhead upon me, we will not speak of 
 her just now. But, my dear friend Pepys, 
 you are a man of affairs, and patient and 
 knowing in these things, and we must 
 lay om- heads together and get up a mar- 
 riage for that saucy wench. You know 
 her fortune, and how many young lords 
 would snap at her. I would give her to 
 the devil rather than that Walter Wynton 
 should have her." 
 
 " 'T has been thought of already," said 
 Pepys, " and Lady Eoimdtree and my wife 
 are with us." 
 
 The day after this Mr. Pepys and Sir 
 Ealph had met by appointment at the 
 " Devil " tavern in Fleet Street, and they 
 were not only on their way to the Minories, 
 but were also engaged in deep talk about 
 Marion and her fortune, when they were 
 brought to a stand by the stoppage in 
 Tower Street, and to the discoiu*se which 
 we have reported with Master Walter and 
 Tom of the Woods.
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 
 
 301 
 
 After that talk mth the ex-prophet, 
 Pepys heartily msliecl Sir Ralph back at 
 "Whitehall, or anywhere but with him. 
 He eovild not, however, avoid conductmg the 
 cavalier to the ladies. Marion was not in 
 the drawing-room, having resolutely re- 
 fused to see Sir Ralph. She rejoiced on 
 Walter's accomit, and perhaps even a little 
 on his own, tliat the insolent cavalier had 
 not been killed, but meet him she would 
 not. Her ladyship received Sir Ralph 
 with ecstasy, and Mrs. Pepys was scarcely 
 less ecstatic. But the Clerk of the Acts, 
 at the very first opportmiity, whispered to 
 his wife, " Bessy, we must proceed no far- 
 ther in this business. Walter Wynton is 
 in possession of my secret ! We must be 
 neutral between him and this cavalier, or 
 befriend him rather than Sir Ralph." 
 
 And from this instant Mrs. Pepys, like 
 the dutiful wife she was, was rather cold 
 than otherwise to Sir John's cousin ; and 
 wlien, after an liour's visit and a deal of 
 nonsensical talk, that gentleman took his 
 departure, Mrs. Pepys joined her liusband 
 in making sundry moral reflections upon 
 the loo.seness of his life and conversiil ion, 
 and told Lady Roundtree that she rather 
 doubted wheth(;r Sir Ralph was in his 
 right senses. Lady Roundtree, vexed at 
 Mai-ion's rare obstinacy in refusing to se(j Sir 
 Ralph, and not over-pleased by tlie fact that 
 Walter was in London ami in that neigh-
 
 302 THE DTJTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 bourhoocl, would have concealed the intelli- 
 gence for the present ; but Mrs. Pepys, at 
 her husband's bidding, said a few words 
 to Lucy while her ladyship's back was 
 turned, and Lucy ran upstairs to her 
 young mistress with the glad news. 
 
 Sir Ralph had not been gone much more 
 than an hour when Lady Routidtree, who, 
 with Mrs. Pepys, was lookuig out of the 
 window, shouted in a glad voice, "As I 
 live, there is Sir John on the other side of 
 the street, and hale and well ; thank God 
 for that ! . . . But who hath he under 
 his arm? " " 'Tis Captain Wynton," said 
 Pepys, Avho had approached the window ; 
 " and only hear how the people are cheer- 
 ing him ! " In another minute Sir John 
 and his new friend were upstairs and in 
 the room. The greetings between the old 
 knight and his wife were tender enough, 
 and the civilities of Pepys and his spouse 
 all that they should be. " But," said the 
 good knight, " where is Marion ? I trust 
 in God not ill, or not . . ." Li the 
 next instant his apprehensions were re- 
 moved, for Marion, hearing the good news 
 of his arrival, ran into the room and into 
 his open arms, kissing his hand and next 
 his cheek, down which some big tears were 
 rolling. She did not recognise Captam 
 Wynton — so long was it since she had 
 seen him, and in that interval bad health 
 had greatly altered the veteran's looks ;
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 
 
 303 
 
 "but judge her astonishment and joy when 
 her guardian presented to her his neigh- 
 bour and now fast friend. Captain Wynton^ 
 the bravest and best man that ever wore a 
 sword ! Then followed the marvellous, 
 and, both to the knight and the Captain, 
 most welcome intelligence of the resurrec- 
 tion of Sir Ralph Spicer, and the reappear- 
 ance in London of Master Walter, which 
 was given in a very dramatic and striking 
 manner by our ingenious friend Pepys, 
 who praised and applauded Walter far 
 more than the knight had done his father. 
 
 " But where is the dear boy ? Where is 
 my long-lost only son?" said the Captain. 
 
 " I judge," said Pepys, " that he is not 
 far off, and will soon be here, for he had 
 the name of this hr)use and who was in it ; 
 and it was no farther off than in Tower 
 Street, and barely two hours ago that 1 
 saw him, looking as well and as handsome 
 as ever he did in his lifV', although he had 
 a felt hat on his head and only a fanner's 
 serge coat on his back. I opine that he 
 hath gone to eqiii|> himself in a manner 
 more suitable to his rank, T wish T liad 
 thought of Sf-nfling him to mine ovm 
 tailor, Mr. Pin ; hut n)y heart, was over- 
 full with joy of seeing Master Walter, and 
 so I forgot it." 
 
 "D n coats and tailors !" said Sir 
 
 John ; " 1 wish the boy wcndd come as he 
 
 was."
 
 304 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Pepys^ who never could hear a tailor 
 
 mentioned, and much less d d, without 
 
 some emotion, stepped aside and began to 
 assist Lady Romidtree and his wife in 
 mixing a welcome-cup for Sir John and 
 Captain Wynton. It was nearly at the 
 same nick of time that that comfortuig 
 and comfortable handmaiden Lucy came 
 in and spoke with her yomig mistress, who 
 thereupon went out to the corridor at the 
 head of the staircase to meet Master 
 Walter and to be recompensed in one 
 blissful minute for all the agonies and 
 anxieties she had suffered for weeks. 
 She then went to her own apartment 
 to recover her composure, and Walter 
 went mto the drawmg-room to enjoy 
 happiness scarcely less exquisite than that 
 which he had just tasted. Marion soon 
 reapjDeared, looking, as Walter thought, 
 more beautiful than ever he had seen her. 
 Pepys afterwards declared that this domes- 
 tic drama beat the finest play he had ever 
 beheld upon the stage ; he regretted that 
 he had not seen the first meetmg of the 
 young hero and heroine on the staircase ; 
 but he was so much affected by the meeting 
 of Walter and his brave old father, that he 
 shed more tears that he had shed at the last 
 new tragedy. He was a man of the world, 
 it is true, but Pejjys was also a man of 
 feeling. And when he saw the quiet 
 modest raptiu-es of the yomig couj)le, and
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 305 
 
 the tender, frank, and manly bearing of 
 Walter, he thought of the match ]je had 
 made at Dagenham, of that very poor 
 creature the rich Mr. Carteret, and of the 
 tears and deep sadness of Lady Jemima 
 Montague ; and his heart smote him. Mrs. 
 Pepys seeing the momentary sadness of her 
 husband, and reading liis inward thoughts, 
 said in his ears, " Samuel, have no more to 
 do with match-making and grand mar- 
 riages ! These things are best left to those 
 that are most concerned in them. This 
 manly young fellow reminds me of you in 
 your com-ting-days ; but I was neither so 
 pretty nor so fond as Mistress Marion — was 
 I, Mr. Pepys ? " He squeezed her hand, and 
 said, " Thou wast quite as fond, my Bessy, 
 and almost quite as pretty." And with 
 these words liis sadness passed away. 
 
 It was a happy evening this in the 
 Minories, and the forci-umior of many 
 liappy days. 
 
 When Sir Kalph Spicer ropoutcd his 
 visit, the door was closed to him by the 
 express commniHl of Sir .John, w1i<> h;id 
 worked liimsclf up to tliis resolution by 
 reflecting that as he was not in liis own 
 liouse, but only in an inn, there was no 
 breach of hospitality; and that the visit 
 could only cause vexation and confusion to 
 Marion, Walter, a)id ('iiptain Wynton, and 
 to his cousin Sir Ralph himself. Indeed, 
 by this time Lady Koundtree had been
 
 306 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 completely talked out of her partiality for 
 the courtier by Pepys and his wife, who 
 gave (what they were well able to do) a 
 terrible account of the extravagance, reck- 
 lessness, profligacy, and debauchery of the 
 present race of courtiers in general, and of 
 Sir Raph Spicer in particular, telling the 
 Kentish gentlewoman tales which she had 
 never heard a breath of, which she never 
 could have conceived, and which made her 
 shake almost as much as Pepys had done at 
 Tom's whispering in his ear " The memory 
 of the wicked shall perish." But the little 
 blow which completed the alienation, and 
 converted her ladyship into Sir Ralph's 
 enemy for life, was adroitly put in by Mrs. 
 Pepys in a tete-a-tete in her own drawing- 
 room in Seething Lane. After compliment- 
 ing her ladyship on the juvenility of her 
 looks, and on the wonderful improvement 
 made in her appearance by a new silk 
 dress, cut and made by Mrs. Pepys's own 
 milliner, and by a black patch or two on the 
 face, which her ladyship now wore for the 
 first time, although the fashion of patch- 
 ing had come in with the Restoration, the 
 clever wife of the Clerk of the Acts, burst- 
 ing as it were into an involuntary passion 
 of indignation and astonishment, exclaimed 
 — ^' Oh, the perfidy of that wicked Sir 
 Ralph ! Oh, his malice and bhndness too ! 
 What does your sweet ladyship think he had 
 the insolence, the virulence, to say to
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 307 
 
 Pepys tliat day tliey were walking from 
 the Devil tavern to the Minories ? " 
 
 "Why! what?" said Lady Eoundtree, 
 much agitated ; " what could that graceless 
 man say of a virtuous woman like me? " 
 
 •'Oh!" said Mrs. Pepys, "he said. . . . 
 But J must not tell ; Pepys almost made 
 me swear that I would not, and he will be 
 so angry if I do." 
 
 "But, my dear madam," said her lady- 
 ship, " Mr. Pepys need not know it — nay, 
 I vow he shall not know it from me." 
 
 " I can scarcely find words to say it — 
 but Sir Ralph did say to Pepys that, find- 
 ing that Marion would not listen to him, 
 he, to amuse the dulness of Erith and to 
 promote his scheme of getting Marion's 
 person and fcji-tune for some of his crew, 
 did enter upon some amorous passages 
 with your ladysliip a la mode de France.^' 
 
 " But if lif had tliat boldness," said lier 
 ladyship, roddoiiiig a little, "he could 
 never say that 1 was other than cruel to 
 his suit. And . . . ." 
 
 "Nay, madam, the lying fellow told 
 Pepys that you were fiillioms deep i)i lovo 
 with him, and thought him as deeply 
 enamoured with your ladyship, and that" 
 
 here Mrs. Pepys paused ;m<l i)iit on 
 
 a look of vast ni(»riili(';i1i(iTi. 
 
 "But what else did the lellow say?" 
 said her ladyship. 
 
 " Wliy, my lady, he said that at your
 
 308 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 time of life, instead of thinkiiif^ of 
 gallantries and amourettes^ you ought to 
 be thinking of your prayers ; and that a 
 pair of spectacles and a new folio Bible 
 would have been a more suitable present 
 for one of your years than the monkey he 
 took down to Erith at his last visit ! " 
 
 " The monster ! " said Lady Eoundtree. 
 ^' May he be hanged as his monkey was ! 
 My time of life, gadzooks ! My years ! 
 Why, I am younger than he by " 
 
 '^^ Ten years at least, and twenty years 
 in looks/' said clever Mrs. Pepys, while her 
 ladyship was hesitating in her arithmetic. 
 '' But do not let this horrible insolence 
 chafe you ; he is a godless, beggarly 
 fellow, unworthy of your ladyship's notice 
 — nay, even of your ladyship's contempt." 
 
 ''If he owes Sir John a farthing he 
 owes him five hundred broad pieces ! I 
 would have Sir John arrest him for the 
 debt, but I know he won't. I wish Master 
 Walter had finished him outright on 
 Plumstead Common. But I will never see 
 his drunken face again." 
 
 " My lady," said Mrs. Pepys, pointing 
 to a small mirror in the room, " look there 
 at your own dear face, and feel how foully 
 the rogue hath lied." 
 
 The storm passed over without any 
 injury to the Pepys's in her ladyship's 
 favour — so adroitly had Mrs. Pepys 
 managed the business ; but there was no
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 309 
 
 hope or chance that Sir Ealph would ever 
 regain the gromid he had lost. 
 
 After the gallant affair at the Hope, in 
 which the Dutch lost a great deal of 
 honour, de Ru}i:er and Van Ghent made 
 no further attempt, either in the Thames 
 or in the Medway. They merely blockaded 
 both rivers, and captured such homeward- 
 bomid ships as came in their way. Their 
 blockade, however, occasioned one serious 
 inconvenience — the Newcastle colliers 
 could no longer come up the river, and 
 London was reduced to a sad extremity 
 through want of coals. The King was 
 obliged to send to Say's Court for the 
 ingenious Mr. Evelyn, and to employ that 
 gentleman and other members of the 
 Ro3'al Society in seeking for other fuel, or 
 for some substitute for coal, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of London. A fanatic, whom 
 our friend Pep^'s caUed and set down for a 
 (Quaker, typified at this time, in a very 
 lively maimer, the combustion that was in 
 store for this wicki^d Government, and I'cr 
 the sinful parts of the nation, unless Ihcy 
 turned from the wickctlncHS ol" their ways, 
 and repented in sackchtih and iishes. Tliis 
 man came naked thiongh Westjninster 
 Hall (only very civilly ticrl about the loins 
 to avoid scandal), an<l, with a chaiing-dish 
 of fire and brimstoiK^ burning upon his 
 hea<l, did pass right thnaigh the Hall, 
 crying " licpent ! repent ! "
 
 310 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 Heartily sick of the town, and of 
 almost everything they saw in it, our 
 Kentish friends returned all together to 
 Erith at the end of July. When we say 
 all, we include poor Tom, the ex-Kentish 
 prophet, who had rapidly recovered health 
 and strength, and who had confirmed and 
 strengthened his sanity by a few glimpses 
 he took of men far madder than he had 
 ever been, even when he lived in the 
 woods, and wore the prophetical beard. 
 Place a lunatic among men madder than 
 himself, and he either gets as wild as they 
 or recovers. It was running a risk, per- 
 haps, but Tom, whose heart had still some 
 cleavings to the religious sect to which he 
 had for a length of time belonged, had 
 ventured once or twice into Gravel Lane, 
 and heard the preachings and saw the 
 wrestlings of Hiram Bingley and his asso- 
 ciate fanatics, who were fiercely contend- 
 ing with one another about judgments 
 and prophecies, and railing against the 
 Ouuiipotent for delaying the est;:blishment 
 of their dominion over the earth. 
 
 " I will go no more to these dens," said 
 Tom, " for they are full of traitors and 
 conspirators. These men are mad with 
 many things — but most of all with vanity. 
 Better any church, or any form of govern- 
 ment, than such as these maniacs would 
 establish ! " 
 
 Sir John, who had always been disposed
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 311 
 
 to entertain a kindly feeling for the poor 
 man, and to take the proper view of his 
 case when he lived in the woods, now 
 offered to make him his chief woodsman ; 
 and Tom accepted the offer most gladly, 
 for he loved his old hamits still ; and the 
 post would keep him near to Master 
 Walter; and he understood the wood- 
 man's craft to perfection; and he would 
 not have relished the bread of idleness, old 
 as he was. Will Gaff could hardly be left 
 behind in the great city or sent adrift 
 after all that he liad done for Walter, and 
 suffered with him. Will was not a Kentish 
 man, nor, indeed, native to any comity 
 whatever, for lie was born at sea in a 
 gale of wind — latitude and longitude both 
 imcertain, as were also sundry other cir- 
 cumstances connf^cted mth his birth. But 
 Captain Wynton undertook to provide for 
 him in his household at Charlton, and so 
 Will went into Kent with the rest of our 
 friends. 
 
 Mr. Pepys had not failed of speaking 
 in high quarters about the services ren- 
 dered by Walt*'r and Tom; and General 
 Hilborough bad borne his t^^'siiniony witli 
 right good will, and without any regard to 
 the envying and sneering courtiers and 
 favourite oificers. The Duke of York 
 promised to speak to the King, but forgot 
 to do so for !i long while; and when the 
 King was spoken to he said that ho would
 
 312 THK DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 think about the matter, and see how some 
 rewards or honours might be bestowed 
 upon the brave volunteers. But the Merry 
 Monarch never found time for any such 
 thoughts ; and perhaps at this late date it 
 might have been found very awkward and 
 inconvenient to contradict the lying Court 
 Gazette of the day, which had given great 
 lauds and glorifications to his Grace of 
 Albemarle, General Middleton, Sir Edward 
 Sprague, and other ofiicers of high rank — 
 who had all deserved to be brought to a 
 court-martial — for beating the Dutch in 
 the Medway, and driving them out of that 
 river. Sir John Roundtree was indignant 
 at these palpable falsehoods, and at the 
 ingratitude of the Court towards Captain 
 Wynton and his son ; but, with the excep- 
 tion of Sir John, none of our Kentish 
 friends cared much about it. Captain 
 Wynton would have despised any honour 
 that such a Government could have given 
 him; Walter had no longer anything to 
 fear ; and after Tom's change of life and 
 opinions there was nothing to fear for him. 
 Although Tom had renounced prophecy 
 for ever, he could not patiently listen to 
 those who said he had been out in his last 
 prediction, inasmuch as this visitation from 
 the Dutch, instead of being a greater was 
 a much less serious calamity than the 
 Great Fire. " Friends and countrymen,'' 
 Tom would say, with great solemnity^
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 313 
 
 " the shame brought upon the Navy and 
 the flag of England is the greatest of 
 national calamities, and if these disgraces 
 are not retrieved we must cease to be a 
 nation. A city consimied by fire may be 
 builded up again with timber and bricks 
 and mortar ; but honour and fame, once 
 lost, are not so easily restored. This black 
 spot upon our banner is indehble. Well 
 for posterity if it serve them as a warning ! 
 'Tis all up with old England when these 
 events of the year sixteen hundred and 
 sixty-seven shall be regarded as a light 
 judgment, or when Englishmen shall hear 
 the story without anger and shame." 
 
 At the end of the month of July, the 
 Pensioner de Witt having yielded to the 
 will of the French King, the Dutcli con- 
 sented to give tlie King of England a 
 peace, and the treaty of Jireda was signed 
 and duly ratified. It was a treaty dis- 
 graceful to England ; but, with such a mad 
 Government, it was far better for the 
 covmtry to accept it, than to continue 
 the war. Dc Ruyter's great fleet, wliidi 
 had 80 long blockaded the Thames, and 
 ridden triiniij)hantly from th(! North Fore- 
 land to tlie Buoy of tln^ Nore, fired a feu 
 dc join and went home. 
 
 A few days after the disappearance of 
 the last Dutch flag from our shore, Walter 
 and Marion were tnarrieil in the; ])rei<y 
 little old church of Erith. It was a bright 
 
 21
 
 314 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAY. 
 
 sunny day, and the whole village took part 
 in the joy and festivity. Mike Wooden- 
 spoon, with official staff in hand, and with 
 an enormous bouquet of flowers on one 
 breast of his best coat, and a proportion- 
 ately large favour of white silk ribbon on 
 the other, marshalled the villagers, and 
 headed the procession which followed the 
 bride and bridegroom and their near 
 friends ; and he then kept guard in the 
 church porch, with great dignity, while 
 the service was being performed within. 
 Even Lady Eoimdtree, who had so long 
 made the current of this true love run 
 unsmooth, was contented and jubilant. 
 Everybody was happy at Erith on this 
 sunny day, for all loved Marion and 
 Master Walter, and the overflowing hos- 
 pitality of Sir John Roundtree did not 
 leave time for one sad or serious thought. 
 The feast, to which all were bidden, began 
 at noon with a substantial dinner in the 
 old Elizabethan style, and with a profu- 
 sion of wine, and supplies of ale of such a 
 quality as excited the astonishment even 
 of Mike Woodenspoon, who " kenned " all 
 the ale that was brewed in the parish. 
 After diimer there were sports and 
 pastimes out of doors, and music and 
 dancing upon the lawn. The bride and 
 bridegroom danced among the servants 
 and tenantr3^ Nay, even Captain Wynton 
 felt so light-hearted on this occasion that
 
 DOMESTIC PEACE. 315 
 
 he led out my Lady Eoundtree, and danced 
 a coranto with her. As for Sir John, the 
 dear, hilarious old man, he danced with 
 gentle and simple, and with nearly every 
 maid and matron present, for he had 
 drunk rather more claret than was his 
 wont, and felt so yoimg and happy that 
 he could not sit still, althoui^h his amazed 
 wife repeatedly warned him that gout or 
 rheumatism miglit follow such frolics. 
 But the most active performer of all was 
 Will Gaff, who, although he occasionally 
 missed stays, being rather top-heavy with 
 the knight's strong ale, whisked, whirled, 
 jmnped, and capered from the time they 
 came out from dinner until the time they 
 were called back to supper. Matrons and 
 maids all declared that Will was a very 
 proper man and a right merry one ; but 
 one maid<'n there was that was so charmed 
 with our honest sailor, and he with her, 
 that witliin three weeks she became Mrs. 
 Gaff. 
 
 The bride did little iiK^rc than appear at 
 the supper-table, to kiss the wassail-cup, 
 and to acknowledge;, by one sweet, thank- 
 ful HTiiile, tlu' toMsf that WMH rapturously 
 drunk to her hiipjtiness in the; wedded 
 life. 
 
 Walter and Marion continued to live 
 entirely in the coiuifrv, dividing llieir lime 
 between the plrasant house at Krith and 
 Captain Wynton's home at Charltxtn.
 
 316 THE DUTCH IN THE MEDWAT. 
 
 Except to gratify my Lady Roundtree, or 
 to make purchases of books and other 
 things not easily obtained out of London, 
 they hardly ever approached the great 
 city, where, in truth, for many years there 
 continued to be very little to attract 
 people of honourable and refined feelings, 
 but very much to repel them. It was an 
 unprincipled and disgraceful era, the de- 
 gradation of England being completed a 
 few years after by Charles XL becoming 
 the pensioner of the French King. Still, 
 there was private happiness wherever 
 there was household virtue. The happi- 
 ness of our yomig friends and of those 
 around them was complete. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 W. Speaight & Sons, FrinUn, Fetter Lane, London.
 
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