June 29, 1654.
They make the coast of Norfolk. As soon as day appeared, the mariners claimed many rewards and bottles of sack, sundry of them pretending to have first discovered land; and Whitelocke endeavoured to give them all content in this day of rejoicing, God having been pleased to turn their sorrow into joy, by preserving them in their great danger, and presently after by showing them their longed-for native country; making them, when they were in their highest expectation of joy to arrive in their beloved country, then to disappoint their hopes by casting them into the extremest danger—thus making them sensible of the uncertainty of this world’s condition, and checking perhaps their too much earthly confidence, to let them see His power to control it, and to change their immoderate expectation of joy into a bitter doubt of present death. Yet again, when He had made them sensible thereof, to make his equal power appear for their deliverance when vain was the help of man, and to bring them to depend more on him, then was He pleased to rescue them by his own hand out of the jaws of death, and to restore them with a great addition to their former hopes of rejoicing, by showing them their native coast,—the first thing made known to them after their deliverance from perishing.
The day being clear, they found themselves upon the coast of Norfolk, and, as they guessed, about eight leagues from Yarmouth, where they supposed their guns might be heard the last night. The wind being good, Whitelocke ordered to weigh anchor, and they sailed along the coast, sometimes within half a league of it, until they passed Orfordness and came to Oseley Bay, where they again anchored, the weather being so thick with a great fog and much rain that they could not discern the marks and buoys to avoid the sands, and to conduct them to the mouth of the river. A short time after, the weather began to clear again, which invited them to weigh anchor and put the ship under sail; but they made little way, that they might not hinder their sounding, which Whitelocke directed, the better to avoid the danger of the sands, whereof this coast is full.
Near the road of Harwich the ‘Elizabeth’ appeared under sail on-head of the ‘President,’ who overtaking her, Captain Minnes came on board to Whitelocke, who told him the condition they had been in the last night, and expostulated with him to this purpose.
Whitelocke. Being in this distress, we fired divers guns, hoping that you, Captain Minnes, could not but hear us and come in to our relief, knowing this to be the order of the sea in such cases.
Minnes. My Lord, I had not the least imagination of your being in distress; but I confess I heard your cannon, and believed them to be fired by reason of the fog, which is the custom of the sea in such weather, to advertise one another where they are.
Wh. Upon such an occasion as the fog, seamen use to give notice to one another by two or three guns, but I caused many more to be fired.
Minnes. I heard but four or five in all, and I answered your guns by firing some of mine.
Wh. We heard not one of your guns.
Minnes. That might be by reason we were to windward of you three leagues.
Wh. Why then did you not answer the lights which I caused to be set up?
Minnes. My Lord, those in my ship can witness that I set up lights again, and caused squibs and fireworks to be cast up into the air, that you might thereby discern whereabouts we were.
Wh. It was strange that we could neither see yours nor you our lights.
Minnes. The greatness of the fog might occasion it.
Wh. The lights would appear through the fog as well as in the night.
Minnes. My Lord, I did all this.
Wh. It was contrary to my orders for you to keep so far off from me, and to be on-stern of me three leagues; but this hath been your practice since we first came out to sea together; and if you had been under the command of some others, as you were under mine, they would have expected more obedience than you have given to my orders, or have taken another course with you, which I can do likewise.
Minnes. My Lord, I endeavoured to get the wind of you, that I might thereby be able to keep in your company, which otherwise I could not have done, you being so much fleeter than the ‘Elizabeth;’ but in the evenings I constantly came up to your Excellence.
Wh. Why did you not so the last night?
Minnes. The fog rose about five o’clock, and was so thick that we could not see two ships’ length before us. In that fog I lost you, and, fearing there might be danger in the night to fall upon the coast, I went off to sea, supposing you had done so likewise, as, under favour, your captain ought to have done; and for my obedience to your Excellency’s commands, it hath been and shall be as full and as willing as to any person living.
Wh. When you found by my guns that you were so far from me to the windward, you might fear that I was fallen into that danger which you had avoided by keeping yourself under the wind more at large at sea.
Minnes. If I had in the least imagined your Excellence to have been in danger, we had been worse than Turks if we had not endeavoured to come in to your succour; and though it was impossible, as we lay, for our ship to come up to your Excellence, yet I should have adventured with my boats to have sought you out. But that you were in any danger was never in our thoughts; and three hours after your guns fired, sounding, I found by the lead the red sand, which made me think both your Excellence and we might be in the more danger, and I lay the further off from them, but knew not where your Excellence was, nor how to come to you.
After much more discourse upon this subject, Captain Parkes pressing it against Minnes, who answered well for himself, and showed that he was the better seaman in this action and in most others, and in regard of the cause of rejoicing which God had given them, and that they now were near the end of their voyage, Whitelocke held it not so good to continue the expostulation as to part friends with Captain Minnes and with all his fellow-seamen, and so they proceeded together lovingly and friendly in their voyage.
The wind not blowing at all, but being a high calm, they could advance no further than the tide would carry them, the which failed them when they came to a place called Shoe, about four leagues from the mouth of Thames. Having, through the goodness of God, passed by and avoided many banks of sands and dangerous places, the wind failing them and the tide quite spent, they were forced about seven o’clock in the evening to come to an anchor, Captain Minnes hard by the ‘President,’ where, to make some pastime and diversion, he caused many squibs and fireworks to be cast up into the air from the ‘Elizabeth,’ in which Minnes was very ingenious, and gave recreation thereby to Whitelocke and to his company.