A Gambling Man: Charles II's Restoration Game (43 page)

THE DUTCH WERE QUICK
to see the Fire of London as God’s judgement for English sins, including ‘Holmes’s bonfire’ which had consumed their merchant ships in the Vlie Roads. They too were badly battered by the war. In September 1666 Aphra Behn wrote, ‘Things are in so universal a disorder, that if God give our fleet good success at sea we shall see strange things.’
¹
But when Charles tried to negotiate a peace, the States General held out for terms that would take English possessions back to before the war.

This had its bright side, as Louis held the view that the obsinacy of the Dutch freed him from his agreement with them. In secret he began to approach Charles about terms for peace. Despite this, French privateers continued to attack traffic in the Channel, damaging British customs and excise duties. In February 1667 the Navy Board gave the Duke of York a forthright account of their plight. They could place no contracts for supplies since they had only been able to pay £1,315 out of the £150,000 due to suppliers. They owed the sailors £930,000, of which they had paid £140,000.
²
They needed half a million pounds immediately, or there would be no fleet at all. In this situation Charles could take only the minimum action. He sent squadrons out to the West Indies to retake Surinam, which had been lost to the Dutch, and to Antigua and Montserrat, which had been seized by the French. Privately, he ordered James, as High Admiral, to mothball the warships and use smaller boats to police the coast, to keep privateers away and harass enemy ships. He was probably advised by Sir George Carteret, the treasurer for the navy, but this was his own decision, made outside the Privy Council, which still – like most of the public – expected the fleet to set sail. Instead of building and repairing, Charles and James concentrated on fortifying the coastal towns and ports, building new defences at Harwich and Portsmouth. Charles himself drew up plans to fortify Sheerness, on the Isle of Sheppey, guarding the mouth of the river Medway, where most of the fleet was laid up in Chatham dockyards. He also went down to talk to the engineers.

It was a gamble, but Charles argued that this policy was the only way he could play the poor cards left in his hand. There was no way he could repair the whole fleet. Even if all the new grant was collected, the money was already committed to pay existing bills. After that, the treasury was bankrupt. The run of play, and of luck, had gone against him and all he could do now was sue for peace. And of course, if peace was in the offing, he would have no need for a new battle fleet anyway.
³
Yet he might still have been able to raise funds if he had appealed to the City, and his decision would later be seen as an inexplicable lapse of judgement.

When he dismissed parliament in February Charles said, ‘I must tell you, that if any good Overtures be made for an Honourable Peace, I will not reject them.’
⁴
In fact talks had already begun. Louis’s attack on the Spanish Netherlands would be helped by English neutrality, and he had hinted to St Albans, Henrietta Maria’s burly, card-playing chief adviser and close companion, that he would make peace if Charles promised not to enter into any alliances contrary to French interests (in other words with Spain) for at least a year. In return France would restore the English possessions seized in the West Indies, and broker a good peace deal with the Dutch. In February, encouraged by Clarendon, Charles secretly signed these terms, which were formally agreed in early April.

Charles made no public statement for fear of deterring his anti-French parliament from raising money. But news of the ‘underhand’ treaty leaked out, reaching the Dutch. This was awkward, as in Holland Arlington was negotiating with de Witt on opposite lines, offering to help protect the Spanish Netherlands against the French, in return for the island of Pulo Run and compensation for English losses. In his approaches to de Witt, Arlington suggested that their peace talks be held in the Hague. This offer to meet on their enemies’ home ground was partly a symbolic gesture, implying that England really did want peace, contrary to the propaganda of the States General. But the Hague was also a good place for the supporters of the House of Orange to make their presence felt, and for that very reason, de Witt turned the suggestion down. Eventually, after much to-ing and fro-ing, it was settled that they would meet at Breda. The English delegates, Denzil Holles and Henry Coventry (William Coventry’s brother), set off in late April, arrived on 4 May and began their talks ten days later. Charles was optimistic and instructed his ambassadors to press hard for the terms he wanted. The Dutch, however, had other plans. That winter, de Witt had already persuaded the States General to grant money for preparing an even stronger fleet, but when agents reported this to London it was seen simply as a move to strengthen the Dutch at the conference table: ‘Som will have it best to make peace with the sword in the hand.’
⁵

De Witt certainly had sword in hand, and was determined to show his strength, both to avenge the Vlie raid and to force concessions from the English delegates. The Dutch commander Van Ghent sailed over to Scotland and on 1 May led a squadron into the Firth of Forth, hovering opposite Leith harbour, alarming the local people. But this was only a warning: the real target was the Thames. Among the prisoners of war in Holland de Witt had found two English pilots who knew the tricky shores and shoals of the Thames estuary, and had recruited English sailors from among the exiled republicans. An English dissident, the mysterious Thomas Dolman, mustered a large force of troops and marines. On 4 June these troops joined the Dutch fleet and set sail. De Witt’s brother Cornelis sailed with them, on board Admiral de Ruyter’s flagship.

So confident was Charles that the Dutch wanted peace that he and his councillors largely ignored reports about the movements of their fleet. They were worried enough, however, for Arlington to warn the Lords Lieutenant of coastal counties to keep their militia on the alert. As for the Medway, the government were relying on Charles’s detailed orders for fortifying Sheerness. The only action they took was to place a heavy chain across the river, protecting the warships laid up at Chatham. They had no doubt that these defences would hold.

On 1 June Charles was at Greenwich, watching tests of new cast-iron grenades. By then Van Ghent had sailed down from Scotland to meet de Ruyter, and on Friday 7 June watchmen spotted a large Dutch fleet off the North Foreland. Over the next three days, although hampered by slackening winds, the Dutch moved slowly towards their target. First Van Ghent led his squadron along the Thames estuary’s north coast, landing briefly on Canvey Island, burning barns and killing sheep for his ships’ stores. The threat was clear, and desperate actions were taken, all too late. The Duke of York ordered an alarm sent to all the dockyards, frantic work took place in Plymouth and Portsmouth, militia were sent to the Isle of Wight and a Scottish regiment was despatched to Margate, to fend off any invasion. Charles hastily borrowed £10,000 from the City to pay for new defences along the Thames, and ordered Albemarle to take charge in Chatham. Then he sent Rupert to Woolwich to supervise defences, and commanded Coventry to organise fireships. The naval officials scurried down to Deptford, wrote Pepys, ‘and pitched upon ships and set men to work but Lord! to see how backwardly things move at this pinch’.
⁶
The Dutch prizes, and the merchantmen that lay at anchor at Chatham, were moved further up the river and guard-ships were placed in the creeks to defend the chain. But when the first guns were heard Albemarle was still at Gravesend, ‘with a great many idle lords and gentlemen, with their pistols and fooleries’.

On Tuesday 11 June, riding the incoming tide, the Dutch surged up the Medway. The much-vaunted Sheerness defences had never been finished and the Dutch took the fort easily, capturing its guns and valuable stores and landing eight hundred men. English troops arrived too late and were confused about their orders – many spent their time looting the houses that terrified occupants had abandoned. The precious fireships, so rapidly assembled, were sunk to blockade the narrow channels. It was no use. Next morning Van Ghent’s ships passed Sheerness and marshalled at the mouth of the Medway. Albemarle arrived to find the local workmen in a panic. There was hardly any ammunition, either at Chatham or at Upnor Castle on the opposite bank, and every small boat had been taken to carry away the goods of frightened householders. The Dutch hacked their way slowly through the ships that had been sunk to defend the chain, destroying and setting fire to the guard-ships. The following morning, 13 June, with their canvas taut against the wind, they sailed on upriver, exchanging shots with the guards at Upnor Castle and with Sir Edward Spragge’s battery on the southern shore. Then they broke through the chain as if it was a rope of straw, and burst into the sheltered reach of Chatham where the big warships were moored. Rounding the river bend they took the grounded
Sancta Maria
and went on to capture their supreme prize, the flagship the
Royal Charles
. When Cornelis de Witt wrote his report to the States General, he headed his letter ‘In the Royal Charles…about two in the afternoon, lying in the River of Chatham’.
⁷

Standing on the shore, Albemarle watched the ships burn. The General was, as Clarendon said, ‘of a constitution and temper so void of fear, that there could appear no sign of distraction in him: yet it was plain enough that he knew not what orders to give’.
⁸
When the Dutch broke the chain Albemarle even thought of taking a ship out himself, with a group of volunteers, but was soon persuaded that he would merely be leading them to their deaths. All that he and Commissioner Pett could do was to send out longboats to help the sailors who were trapped. He knew that the main body of the fleet under de Ruyter still lay off the coast, and might be back the next day.

Sure enough, on the next morning’s tide the Dutch returned, sailing with astounding bravery under the batteries of guns that Albemarle had now organised. This time they sent fireships into the Chatham docks, blasting three more ships of glorious names, the
Royal James
, the
Royal Oak
and
Loyal London
. All on board fled, except for the Scottish soldier Archibald Douglas, who stayed alone on the
Royal Oak
until it went down in flames – the one act of heroism of the whole episode. ‘Fixt on his Shipp, he fought the horrid day’, wrote Marvell, ‘And wondred much at those who ran away.’
⁹
Everyone was running away, although after abandoning a sketchy attack on the Chatham dockyard itself, the Dutch left the river, deciding that the sunken ships that Albemarle had put in their way made any further sally too risky. Displaying a bravado and skill that made all on land marvel they steered the
Royal Charles
downriver through the shallow waters, braving difficult tides and contrary winds. Their triumph was complete.

There was panic in London. It was rumoured that the Dutch had landed and the drums were sounded to raise the Trained Bands. People sent their families into the country with all their valuable goods, plate and reserves of cash. There were reports of English sailors going over to the Dutch and in Wapping the seamen’s wives cried, ‘This comes of your not paying our husbands.’
¹⁰
When a fire broke out at Deptford, the town was in uproar, believing the Dutch were already there. Arlington’s secretary, Joseph Williamson, received alarmed letters from across the country. James Bentham, for one, wrote from East Anglia, ‘The beacons are on fire, and some say that Harwich, Colchester and Dover are burned, and the King gone out of town or out of the world.’
¹¹
Anxious letters from Devon, Hull and Chester voiced the same refrain, ‘All conclude that there was treachery in the business, and hope the contrivers will receive the reward due to those who betray King and country.’

A panoramic view, looking upriver to Chatham and Rochester, and bringing together the events of all three days. In the centre, the masts of sunken ships mark the point where the chain was strung across the river, and in the foreground the
Royal Charles
is being towed away.

In the wake of this humiliation, on 25 June Charles summoned parliament to meet in late July, breaking into its summer recess. During the Medway alarm he had ordered an army to be raised, twelve regiments under the command of old Commonwealth generals, including Marsden and Fairfax. The troops were ready within three weeks. He wrote to the East India Company pleading for contributions to pay the navy and begged the nobility and gentry to support the new land forces. But instead of appeasing critics, this move roused fears of an old bogey, a standing army under royal control. When parliament assembled, member after member demanded that the troops be dismissed, in a sequence of angry speeches.