Captain Dyneley maintained a most obstinate resistance, though on this occasion the safety of his capital was not in question, since the Post-Office was pledged to pay for Packets captured while employed on their own service. Time after time the French were driven back to their own ship, unable to gain the slightest advantage. For no less than three hours the two ships remained locked together fighting incessantly, and it is impossible to say how the action would have ended had not Captain Dyneley unhappily fallen in one of the boarding attacks. His mate and three seamen were already slain. Two others were dangerously wounded, and the crew, dispirited by the loss of their commander, and exhausted by their long and desperate resistance, hauled the colours down and surrendered.
So ended, bravely and honourably, the career of Captain Bert Dyneley. The naval history of this country tells of many exploits performed upon a grander scale than his and followed by consequences of more importance. But if the quality of the achievements be considered rather than the numbers of the contending forces, Captain Dyneley, who cheerfully risked his property as well as his life in a national service entirely out of his line of duty, and who a few months later laid down that life in defending his trust with an obstinacy which his chiefs did not expect and had not equipped him for, deserves a better fate than to be entirely forgotten.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE STRUGGLE AGAINST THE CONTINENTAL SYSTEM.
Relieved as they were by recent events from all apprehension about the conduct of the Falmouth Packets, my Lords the Postmaster General yet found themselves involved in anxieties and difficulties, which were daily growing more acute. It was the growth of the Continental System, the blockade of all intercourse with the ports of Europe which give rise to these difficulties; and to follow plainly the efforts made to cope with this new situation of affairs, it will be necessary to revert once more to the outbreak of hostilities in 1803.
The inhuman decree issued by Napoleon at the commencement of the war, ordering the seizure and detention of all English subjects between the ages of 18 and 60 who, for whatever reason, were present on territory subject to French control at the moment when war was declared, has no defenders now. That barbarous seizure of peaceful travellers, both men and women, of merchants following their lawful callings, and of Government servants, who had not yet been ordered to quit their posts, stands universally condemned as the act of a savage rather than of a civilized enemy. “It was an act,” says M. de Bourrienne, “which no consideration can justify”; and in face of this emphatic condemnation of Napoleon’s private Secretary, it might not have been necessary to refer to the matter had not the decree struck the Packet Service with peculiar force.
The war broke out suddenly, and almost without warning. At Helvoetsluis the business of the Packet Station was in full progress. Four Packets lay in the roadstead; the commanders were on shore, the agent was transacting business in his office. No hint or rumour of danger to themselves had reached them. They knew that the negotiations between their own Government and that of France had reached a critical stage; but they believed that timely notice would be given of any rupture, and they continued their peaceful avocations in reliance on the good faith which regulates the intercourse of nations.
So strong was the confidence in this good faith that not one of the Packets was armed. Their guns were lying in store at home, as was the practice in time of peace; for to make show of readiness of war would not only have been unnecessary but insulting, and might well have precipitated a catastrophe. Thus, when a small force of French soldiers marched suddenly into Helvoetsluis, no apprehension was felt at first; and no other feeling than incredulity was excited by the intimation of the officer in command that the English must consider themselves prisoners, and their ships prizes of war.
Remonstrance was utterly useless. The agent, the commanders, the seamen, even the British envoy, Mr. Leston, whose character as a diplomatist should have rendered his person sacred, all were seized, and thrown into the common prison of the Brill. The unfortunate men did not yet doubt that the French commander had exceeded his authority, and would be promptly disavowed by his Government; and as more and more prisoners were continually added to their number, they kept up their spirits by the confident anticipation of a speedy release.
Somewhat earlier on this memorable day, two messengers, Mr. East and Mr. Wagstaff, had left the Hague charged with despatches of great importance. They found themselves in some danger of arrest while they were still within the city; but having gained the open country, they did not doubt that in some one of the Packets which were lying at Helvoetsluis they would be able to get a passage home. They had not travelled far when the news of what had happened at Helvoetsluis was given them by some country people. Mr. East did not believe it; and, being directly connected with the Diplomatic Service, he felt confident of his personal safety even if the intelligence were correct.
Mr. Wagstaff was in a different position; and was inclined to attach more credence to the story. It was decided that the two travellers should separate; Mr. Wagstaff making for Scheveningen, in charge of the despatches, while Mr. East, who was acquainted with their tenor, continued his journey to Helvoetsluis, where he was promptly arrested, despite his protestations, and sent to join his countrymen in the Brill prison.