Loyally Monk went on to discharge his country's trust. At the end of April, despairing of their proper equipment, the two generals put to sea and joined Vice-Admiral Penn off Arundel. Together they sailed to the Scotch coast with a fleet of about a hundred sail, and till the end of May cruised in the North Sea from Aberdeen to Yarmouth watching for Tromp and waiting for Blake's squadron to join. On the 30th[7] the Dutch, slightly outnumbering them, were sighted, and three days later, early in the morning, the two fleets met.
Monk and Deane were together on board the Resolution, and seem to have attacked line ahead. The wind was light and variable from north-north-west to north-east, and the port division under Lawson, Jordan, and Goodson came into action some time before the rest. The three flagships pierced the line of De Ruyter's division, but as their squadron refused to follow, and Tromp bore down with his whole division to De Ruyter's assistance, for a time they had to engage against overwhelming odds. Monk and Deane, seeing the danger, crowded all sail and plunged into the thick of the fight. Side by side the two generals stood upon the deck as they ranged into action. A furious broadside greeted their approach, and Deane fell at Monk's feet almost cut in two by a round shot. Horror-stricken the sailors left their duty to gather round. In a moment Monk had snatched off his cloak and hidden the shocking sight from view. Sharply he told the seamen to mind their own business, and then without moving a muscle of his face went on fighting his ship as if nothing had happened. The action, however, did not continue much longer. Wise as a serpent, though daring as a lion, the father of naval tactics did not care to fight unless by his skilful manœuvres he could secure the advantage of numbers, and about three in the afternoon, when the whole English fleet had got into action, Tromp drew off.
Monk followed, and at daybreak found himself in view of the whole Dutch fleet lying off Ostend, but a dead calm prevailed and he could not move. At sunrise he signalled all the flag-officers on board the Resolution and announced to them the irreparable loss of yesterday. By Deane's death the fleet was left in command of a man who hardly knew one end of a ship from another. But the old soldier at least could tell how to inspire confidence. He assembled the officers in council of war and asked for their guidance. "Your advice," he said, "shall be as binding on me as an Act of Parliament." It was at once resolved to engage, and that no part of the fleet might be again isolated by a repetition of yesterday's faint-heartedness, it was agreed that all the three divisions should attack simultaneously and endeavour to break up the enemy's line by piercing it in three places.
At noon the wished-for breeze sprang up and a tremendous engagement ensued. The captains who had disgraced themselves, fired by a stirring general order from Monk, vied with the rest to retrieve their reputation, and to such good purpose that the Dutch would not stand by their admiral. In spite of Tromp's signals and angry shots seventy of his ships sailed out of the fight. Thus deserted he was compelled to follow. All day the two fleets stood to the southward close-hauled on a south-westerly breeze, and kept up a hot running fight. About four in the afternoon the wind freshened to a gale, veering to west-south-west, and Monk was able to loose his frigates into the midst of the enemy to reap the harvest of cripples he had put at their mercy. As evening fell Blake's long-expected squadron appeared in the offing, and the Dutch sought refuge towards their own coasts, where at ten o'clock darkness and the shoals stopped further pursuit.
Such was the famous Flanders Battle, the first in which Monk really commanded. The Dutch lost thirty-four ships and for the time were driven from the sea. So well had the English come out of it that without putting in to refit they were able to follow up the victory by a descent upon Cadsand, where a vast quantity of stores were captured or destroyed.
For the next two months, as closely as the weather would allow, the two English admirals blockaded the Dutch coast. Behind their shoals the States were fitting out two fleets. In the Weelings about Flushing was Tromp, at the back of Texel was De Witt; and as Blake was again taken so ill that in July he had to go ashore, on Monk devolved the anxious task of keeping the two consummate Dutch seamen from uniting.
By the end of the month the enemy were ready for sea and Monk was rigorously blockading De Witt at Texel. Early on the 28th a heavy south-westerly gale compelled him to stand out to sea and beat against it all day. At daylight next morning, having recovered sufficient sea-room to be out of danger, he stood away to the south under easy sail, to intercept Tromp whom he expected out. True enough all the previous day the Dutchman had been stealing up the coast to feel for De Witt. About noon on the 29th the two fleets sighted each other. At the same moment the wind shifted to north-north-west and gave Monk the weather-gauge.
Tromp immediately went about. Having lost the wind all he cared to do was to try and draw the English off the Texel. Monk crowded all sail in pursuit, and managed late in the evening to force his enemy into a desultory engagement off Egmont, to which darkness quickly put an end.
All night in thick and heavy weather the chase continued to the southward, but Tromp was too clever for the soldier. In the darkness he doubled back north-north-east, and thus not only recovered the weather-gauge, but in the afternoon managed to join with De Witt, who had slipped out of the Texel as soon as Monk's back was turned.
During the whole of the 30th a tremendous gale was blowing dead on shore. Both fleets attempted to engage, but each time were prevented by the heavy weather. In the morning it cleared. Monk found himself close to the Dutch coast with the enemy to windward. Unwilling to engage where Tromp would have the advantage of his knowledge of the shoals, with harbours of refuge within easy reach, he stood out to sea, and the Dutch gave chase. They had one hundred and forty sail fresh from the yards, while Monk had but ninety storm-beaten ships, with crews sadly thinned and weakened by scurvy, nor had he a single fire-ship to oppose to those of the enemy. But dangers could never daunt the general. As soon as he had recovered sufficient sea-room began "the most fierce and cruel fight that ever was fought." It was already the sixth action of the war, and Monk meant it to be the last. He ordered that no prizes should be taken or quarter given. "The air," says the old historian, "was quickly filled with scattered limbs of men blown up: the sea was dyed with blood."