It was under the old Commonwealth orders as supplemented and modified by these noteworthy articles of April 1665, that was fought the memorable action of June 3rd, variously known as the battle of Lowestoft or the Second Battle of the Texel. It is this action that Hoste cites as the first in which two fleets engaged in close hauled line ahead, and kept their formation throughout the day. After two days' manoeuvring the English gained the wind, and kept it in spite of all their enemy could do, and the various accounts of the action certainly give the impression that the evolutions of the English were smarter and more complex than those of the Dutch. It is true that about the middle of the action one of the new signals, that for the rear to tack first, threw the fleet into some confusion, and that later the van and centre changed places; still, till almost the end, the duke, or rather Penn, his flag captain, kept at least some control of the fleet. Granville Penn indeed claims that the duke finally routed the Dutch by breaking their line, and that he did it intentionally. But this movement is only mentioned in a hasty letter to the press written immediately after the battle. If the enemy's line was actually cut, it must have been an accident or a mere instance of the time-honoured practice of trying to concentrate on or 'overcharge' a part of the enemy's fleet. Coventry in his official despatch to Monck, who was ashore in charge of the admiralty, says nothing of it, nor does Hoste, while the duke himself tells us the object of his movement was merely to have 'a bout with Opdam.' Granville Penn was naturally inclined to credit the statement in the Newsletter because he believed the action was fought under Fighting Instructions which contained an article about dividing the enemy's fleet. But even if this article had been in force at the time—and we now know that it was not—it would still have been inapplicable, for it was only designed in view of an attack from leeward, a most important point which modern writers appear unaccountably to have overlooked.[5]
But although we can no longer receive this questionable movement of the Duke of York as an instance of 'breaking the line' in the modern sense, it is certain that the English manoeuvres in this action were more scientific and elaborate than ever before—so much so indeed that a reaction set in, and it is this reaction which gave rise to the idea in later times that the order in line ahead had not been used in Commonwealth or Restoration times. We gather that in spite of the victory there was a widespread conviction that it ought to have been more decisive. It was felt that there had been perhaps too much manoeuvring and not enough hard fighting. In the end the Duke of York and Sandwich were both tenderly relieved of their command, and superseded by Monck. He and Rupert then became joint admirals for the ensuing campaign. They had the reputation of being two of the hardest fighters alive, and both were convinced of their power of sweeping the Dutch from the sea by sheer hard hitting, a belief which so far at least as Monck was concerned the country enthusiastically shared. The spirit in which the two soldier-admirals put to sea in May 1666 we see reflected in the hitherto unknown 'Additional Instructions for Fighting' given below. For the knowledge of these remarkable orders, which go far to solve the mystery that has clouded the subject, we are again indebted to Lord Dartmouth. They are entered like the others in Sir Edward Spragge's 'Sea Book.' They bear no date, but as they are signed 'Rupert' and addressed to 'Sir Edward Spragge, Knt., Vice-Admiral of the Blue,' we can with certainty fix them to this time. For we know that Spragge sailed in Rupert's squadron, and on the fourth day of the famous June battle was raised to the rank here given him in place of Sir William Berkley, who had been killed in the first day's action.[6] What share Monck had in the orders we cannot tell, but Rupert, being only joint admiral with him, could hardly have taken the step without his concurrence, and the probability is that Rupert, who had been detached on special service, was issuing a general fleet order to his own squadron which may have been communicated to the rest of the fleet before he rejoined. It must at any rate have been after he rejoined, for it was not till then that Spragge received his promotion. Both Monck and Rupert must therefore receive the credit of foreseeing the danger that lay in the new system, the danger of tactical pedantry that was destined to hamper the action of our fleets for the next half century, and of being the first to declare, long before Anson or Hawke, and longer still before Nelson, that line or no line, signals or no signals, 'the destruction of the enemy is always to be made the chiefest care.'
In the light of this discovery we can at last explain the curious conversation recorded by Pepys, which, wrongly interpreted, has done so much to distort the early history of tactics. The circumstances of Monck's great action must first be recalled. At the end of May, he and Rupert, with a fleet of about eighty sail, had put to sea to seek the Dutch, when a sudden order reached them from the court that the French Mediterranean fleet was coming up channel to join hands with the enemy, and that Rupert with his squadron of twenty sail was to go westward to stop it. The result of this foolish order was that on June 1 Monck found himself in presence of the whole Dutch fleet of nearly a hundred sail, with no more than fifty-nine of his own.[7] Seeing an advantage, however, he attacked them furiously, throwing his whole weight upon their van. Though at first successful shoals forced him to tack, and his rear fell foul of the Dutch centre and rear, so that he came off severely handled. The next day he renewed the fight with forty-four sail against about eighty, and with so much skill that he was able that night to make an orderly retreat, covering his disabled ships with those least injured 'in a line abreadth.'[8] On the 3rd the retreat was continued. So well was it managed that the Dutch could not touch him, and towards evening he was able near the Galloper Sand to form a junction with Rupert, who had been recalled. Together on the 4th day they returned to the fight with as fierce a determination as ever. Though to leeward, they succeeded in breaking through the enemy's line, such as it was. Being in too great an inferiority of numbers, however, they could not reap the advantage of their manoeuvre.[9] It only resulted in their being doubled on, and the two fleets were soon mingled in a raging mass without order or control; and when in the end they parted after a four days' fight, without example for endurance and carnage in naval history, the English had suffered a reverse at least as great as that they had inflicted on the Dutch in the last year's action.
Such a terrific object lesson could not be without its effects on the great tactical question. But let us see how it looked in the eyes of a French eye-witness, who was naturally inclined to a favourable view of his Dutch allies. Of the second day's fight he says: 'Sur les six heures du matin nous apperçumes la flotte des Anglais qui revenoit dans une ordre admirable. Car ils marchent par le front comme seroit une armée de terre, et quand ils approchent ils s'etendent et tournent leurs bords pour combattre: parce que le front à la mer se fait par le bord des vaisseaux': that is, of course, the English bore down on the Dutch all together in line abreast, and then hauled their wind into line ahead to engage. Again, in describing the danger Tromp was in by having weathered the English fleet with his own squadron, while the rest of the Dutch were to leeward, he says: 'J'ai déjà dit que rien n'égale le bel ordre et la discipline des Anglais, que jamais ligne n'a été tirée plus droite que celle que leurs vaisseaux forment, qu'on peut être certain que lorsqu'on en approche il les faux [sic] tous essuïer.' The very precision of the English formation however, as he points out, was what saved Tromp from destruction, because having weathered their van-ship, he had the wind of them all and could not be enveloped. On the other hand, he says, whenever an English ship penetrated the Dutch formation it fared badly because the Dutch kept themselves 'redoublez'—that is, not in a single line. As a general principle, then, he declares that it is safer to 'entrer dans une flotte d'Angleterre que de passer auprès' (i.e. stand along it), 'et bien mieux de passer auprès d'une flotte Hollandaise que se mêler au travers, si elle combat toujours comme elle fit pour lors.' But on the whole he condemns the loose formation of the Dutch, and says it is really due not to a tactical idea, but to individual captains shirking their duty. It is clear, then, that whatever was De Ruyter's intention, the Dutch did not fight in a true line. Later on in the same action he says: 'Ruyter de son côté appliqua toute son industrie pour donner une meilleure forme à sa ligne … enfin par ce moyen nous nous remismes sur une ligne parallèle à celle des Anglais.' Finally, in summing up the tactical lesson of the stupendous battle, he concludes: 'A la vérité l'ordre admirable de leur [the English] armée doit toujours être imité, et pour moi je sais bien que si j'étais dans le service de mer, et que je commandasse des vaisseaux du Roi je songerois à battre les Anglois par leur propre manière et non par celle des Hollandoises, et de nous autres, qui est de vouloir aborder.' In defence of his view he cites a military analogy, instancing a line of cavalry, which being controlled 'avec règle' devotes itself solely to making the opposing force give way, and keeps as close an eye on itself as on the enemy. Supposing such a line engaged against another body of horse in which the squadrons break their ranks and advance unevenly to the charge, such a condition, he says, would not promise success to the latter, and the parallel he contends is exact.[10]
From this account by an accomplished student of tactics we may deduce three indisputable conclusions, 1. That the formation in line ahead was aimed at the development of gun power as opposed to boarding. 2. That it was purely English, and that, however far Dutch tacticians had sought to imitate it, they had not yet succeeded in forcing it on their seamen. 3. That the English certainly fought in line, and had reached a perfection in handling the formation which could only have been the result of constant practice in fleet tactics.
It remains to consider the precisely opposite impression we get from English authority. To begin with, we find on close examination that the whole of it, or nearly so, is to be traced to Pepys or Penn. The locus classicus is as follows from Pepys's Diary of July 4th. 'In the evening Sir W. Penn came to me, and we walked together and talked of the late fight. I find him very plain, that the whole conduct of the late fight was ill…. He says three things must be remedied, or else we shall be undone by their fleet. 1. That we must fight in line, whereas we fight promiscuously, to our utter demonstrable ruin: the Dutch fighting otherwise, and we whenever we beat them. 2. We must not desert ships of our own in distress, as we did, for that makes a captain desperate, and he will fling away his ship when there are no hopes left him of succour. 3. That ships when they are a little shattered must not take the liberty to come in of themselves, but refit themselves the best they can and stay out, many of our ships coming in with very little disableness. He told me that our very commanders, nay, our very flag officers, do stand in need of exercising amongst themselves and discoursing the business of commanding a fleet, he telling me that even one of our flag men in the fleet did not know which tack lost the wind or kept it in the last engagement…. He did talk very rationally to me, insomuch that I took more pleasure this night in hearing him discourse than I ever did in my life in anything that he said.'
Pepys's enjoyment is easily understood. He disliked Penn—thought him a 'mean rogue,' a 'coxcomb,' and a 'false rascal,' but he was very sore over the supersession of his patron, Sandwich, and so long as Penn abused Monck, Pepys was glad enough to listen to him, and ready to believe anything he said in disparagement of the late battle. Penn was no less bitter against Monck, and when his chief, the Duke of York, was retired he had sulkily refused to serve under the new commander-in-chief. For this reason Penn had not been present at the action, but he was as ready as Pepys to believe anything he was told against Monck, and we may be sure the stories of grumbling officers lost nothing when he repeated them into willing ears. That Penn really told Pepys the English had not fought in line is quite incredible, even if he was, as Sir George Carteret, treasurer of the navy, called him, 'the falsest rascal that ever was in the world.' The fleet orders and the French testimony make this practically impossible. But he may well have expressed himself very hotly about the new instruction issued by Monck and Rupert which modified his own, and placed the destruction of the enemy above a pedantic adherence to the line. Pepys must clearly have forgotten or misunderstood what Penn said on this point, and in any case both men were far too much prejudiced for the passage to have any historical value. Abuse of Monck by Penn can have little weight enough, but the same abuse filtered through Pepys's acrid and irresponsible pen can have no weight at all.[11]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is a folio parchment-bound volume, labelled 'Royal Charles Sea Book,' but this is clearly an error, due to the fact that the first order copied into it is dated from the Royal Charles, April 24, 1666. The first entry, however, is the list of a ship's company which Spragge commanded in 1661-2, as appears from his noting the deaths and desertions which took place amongst the crew in those years. At this time he is known to have commanded the Portland. For some years the book was evidently laid aside, and apparently resumed when in 1665 he commissioned the Triumph for the Dutch War.
[2] See notes supra, pp. 108-9, and in the Dartmouth MSS., Hist. MSS. Com. Rep. XI. v. 15.