The bravery and skilful handling of their ships by the English commanders was above all praise, but their ships were badly provisioned. King Charles, to his shame, recked not that the lives of the bravest of his subjects should be sacrificed, if he could indulge, unchecked, the career of a Sybarite and profligate. It has been written by the careful historian that—“The money voted by Parliament for the war was squandered by the king in his wicked pleasures; and ships leaky and badly rigged were sent out to contend with the splendid fleets of Holland.”
Albemarle discreetly sought the decision of a council of war before renewing the action on the second day. What his own feeling was may be gathered from the reported gist of the address he delivered to the assembled commanders: “If we had dreaded the number of our enemies we should have retreated yesterday; but though we are inferior to them in number of ships, we are in other things superior. Force gives them courage; let us, if we need it, borrow resolution from the thoughts of what we have formerly performed. Let our enemy feel that, though our fleet is divided, our spirit is united. At the worst it will be more honourable to die bravely here on our own element than to be made spectacles to the Dutch. To be overcome is the fortune of war, but to fly is the fashion of cowards. Let us teach the world that Englishmen had rather be acquainted with death than with fear.”
Much terrible damage was again done by the belligerents to each other, but no decisive victory could be claimed by either power. On the 3rd of June, the duke, on a survey of the condition of his fleet, felt compelled to burn three of his disabled ships. He sent away, in the van, the ships that had suffered most, and, covering them in the rear, drew off. On the 4th of June, Albemarle’s spirits revived, and his strength was materially increased by the arrival of Prince Rupert with his squadron. Thus strengthened, he again sought the enemy, and came up with them about eight in the morning. Five times the English charged through the enemy’s line, firing into them right and left. The conflict, fiercely sustained on both sides, lasted till seven in the evening, when, as if by tacit agreement or sheer exhaustion, the wearied, worn-out warriors desisted from their murderous activity.
The loss was calamitous on both sides. Amongst the brave officers who fell, mention must be made of Sir William Berkeley, vice-admiral of the blue, whose squadron led the van in the first day’s action. Towards the close of the day, Sir William’s ship, the Swiftsure, a second-rate, and two others were cut off from the English; hemmed in and overwhelmed by greatly superior force, Sir William fought desperately. The following account of his gallant death-struggle is given by Lediard: “Highly to be admired was the resolution of Vice-Admiral Berkeley, who, though cut off from the line, surrounded by his enemies, great numbers of his men killed, his ship disabled and boarded on all sides, yet continued fighting almost alone, killed several with his own hand, and would accept of no quarter, till at length, being shot in the throat by a musket ball, he retired into the captain’s cabin, where he was found dead, extended at his full length upon a table, and almost covered with his own blood.” To their honour, the Dutch treated the hero’s remains with the utmost respect. The body was embalmed and deposited in the chapel of the great church at the Hague by order of the States, and a message was sent to King Charles for his orders for the disposal of the remains. This brave officer, a scion of an ancient and honourable family, had not reached his twenty-seventh year.
SEA FIGHT WITH THE DUTCH.
Another distinguished hero who fell in the action was Sir Christopher Myngs, vice-admiral, who led the van of Prince Rupert’s division on the fourth day of the fight. Myngs also was a young officer of proved vigilance, valour, and capacity. In this his last action, while fighting with desperate bravery, he received a musket ball in the throat. No persuasion could prevail with him to retire to have it dressed or to leave the quarter-deck; for nearly half an hour he held his finger in the wound to stop the flow of blood. Another musket ball in the neck, and the hero fell, and so finished his gallant career.
The Dutch claimed the victory, but admitted that if the English were beaten, they deserved honour in their defeat, and had proved incontestably their invincible courage.
On the 25th July 1666, the English fleet under Albemarle and Prince Rupert, and the Dutch fleet under Admirals Evertsen and De Ruyter, again came into conflict; a long and bloody battle ended in a complete and indisputable victory to the English. This was the last great naval action in which Albemarle took part. While he is taking the leading part in this bloody drama on the high seas, king and people alike want him urgently at home, for help and guidance in a time of sore trouble, from an unprecedented calamity. London is ablaze with the great fire; who among men has heart, head, and hand, tender, clear, and strong, fitting him to be a comforter, guide, and shield at such a time? The king recalled Albemarle from his naval duties to direct, deeply distressing, domestic affairs; the people wail piteously, perhaps not wisely, “If the duke had been here, London had not been burned.” Such was the confidence reposed in his wisdom and strength.
A vast amount of life and work had been crowded into his years, and the great man was wearing out. In 1667 he wisely exerted himself in warding off renewal of hostilities with the Dutch, and gave attention to his own much neglected domestic affairs. On the 3rd January 1669, he died peacefully while sitting in his chair, aged sixty-two years. By order of the king, his body lay in state for some time at Somerset House, and was interred in Westminster Abbey.