An empty treasury suggested a change of front for the next year's campaign. The Dutch clearly meant to bleed the King to death with indecisive engagements. In order to rapidly and inexpensively bring the enemy to terms, it was moved in the Council to put the country in a state of defence, lay up the line-of-battle ships, and prey on the Dutch commerce with privateer cruisers. Charles was against the idea, and he was strongly supported by Monk and three others. Negotiations for peace were on foot, and the old general had no notion of treating except sword in hand. But the majority prevailed. The naval ports were directed to be fortified and the dismantled ships protected by booms. The idea was well enough, and had it only been carried out the Dutch might speedily have been brought to their knees; but although twice in the depth of winter the King went in person to inspect the progress of the works for the defence of the Thames and Medway, next to nothing was done. Disorder, insolvency, and corruption paralysed every effort, and after insulting the Scotch coasts, De Ruyter on Sunday June 9th, 1667, suddenly appeared off the Thames and threatened London itself.
A perfect panic prevailed. The banks stopped payment, the beacons were fired, and once more every eye was turned on the Duke of Albemarle. He was hard at work preparing to meet a descent on the threatened counties. Two days before, on the first alarm, Lord Oxford had been sent off to mobilise the militia in Essex, and Lord Middleton to do the same in Kent, while a bridge of boats was being got ready about Tilbury that the horse of either county might be rapidly moved to the support of the other. With the river he had nothing to do. It was under the Duke of York and the Admiralty, and Pett, one of the commissioners, was in special charge of Chatham and the Medway. At daybreak, however, on Monday morning the Dutch were seen at anchor at the Nore. A little later they began to move up the river, and at noon the King sent for Monk.
In four hours he was on his way to Chatham with the Guards to save the fleet and dock-yard, and at his heels half the young bloods in London were trailing pikes. As a soldier the lord-general's name had never been so much as breathed upon, and in a burst of enthusiasm a rabble "of idle lords and gentlemen, with their pistols and fooleries," started to their feet to follow the pattern of soldiership, the old Captain-Lieutenant of "Vere's," their fathers' father-in-arms. By night he reached Gravesend. It was practically defenceless. The batteries were unarmed and unmanned, and he decided to halt the train of artillery that was following him at the weak point till further orders. There was time for little more. His rest was disturbed with the sound of a furious cannonade from the direction of Sheerness, and at daylight he hurried on to Chatham.
Here, thanks to Monk's perfect organisation and his officers' high capacity, Lord Middleton was able to report the mobilisation of Kent complete, and the Duke to write off a letter to the King full of cheery confidence as to the result of any attempt of the Dutch to land. But that was the end; the rest of the news was too desperate to tell. Sheerness had fallen, and practically nothing had been done for the defence of Chatham. There was no ammunition, not a gun was mounted, the dock-yard hands had not been paid for months, and in desperation nearly the whole of them had deserted. In the face of stringent orders, the finest ships in the navy were still lying out unprotected in the tideway; most of the officials were away busily transporting their effects in the boats that had been provided for the defence of the fleet, and Pett was panic-stricken. The only obstacle to the enemy's attack was a chain which had been stretched across the river below Upnor, but not a gun had been planted for its protection. There was not even a gun-boat ready to prevent the Dutch removing it.
Monk instantly sent back to Gravesend to order on the artillery, and then hurried to the chain to throw up flanking batteries. It was soon discovered that there were not enough tools for the working-parties. More were sent for, and answer came that they could not be delivered without proper requisitions. Stickler as Monk was for orderly routine, he was no man to see his country strangled with red tape. With a sufficient force he marched to the stores, broke them open, and seized everything he wanted.
His next care was to arm and man Upnor Castle opposite Chatham; and to gain time till the works were complete he ordered ships to be sunk in the channels below the chain. To Pett and the most skilful pilots the work was committed, and Monk went to superintend the progress of the batteries. Five ships were sunk, and then, that no precaution might be omitted, Admiral Sir Edward Spragg was ordered to sound the channels in person to make sure they were blocked. By this time the tide was making fast and the Dutch were advancing on the flow. At the last moment Spragg returned to say he had found a deep channel quite clear. It was too late to stop it. Not a gun was yet in its place. In the extremity of the danger the veteran's old Quixotic spirit was rekindled and set every heart on fire. By the chain lay two guardships which had been stationed there for its protection, together with the Monmouth, which had just been fitted out to join the northern cruising squadron. Unable to witness in inactivity the insult which his old despised enemies were about to put on his country, he determined to man them with his troops. In person he went on board the cruiser, resolved to die in defence of his old flagship the Royal Charles, which lay a little above helpless and dismantled, or at least determined not to survive his country's disgrace. And with him went down into the mouth of death fifty of the flower of England's dissolute Court, transformed for an hour to heroes by the magic of the one stout old heart which knew not how to flinch.
It would have been a worthy end could he and England's honour have fallen side by side. But it was not to be. The newly discovered channel had not been betrayed. The Dutch could not find it, and ere they had cleared a way through the sunken ships the tide was spent. A respite was won, but no rest. Sleepless and untiring the lord-general worked on. Two ships were placed in readiness to sink within the chain, and a large Dutch prize was ordered to block the fair-way between them. Pett was told to get the Royal Charles above the dock by the evening tide, and Monk devoted himself to the batteries.
On Wednesday at break of day he was still hard at work. The redoubts were well forward, but the Royal Charles had not been moved. The big Dutch prize was being worked to its place, but it was only to be clumsily stranded on a shoal, and in spite of all Monk's efforts there was still nothing but the chain to protect the hulks and the dock-yard as the tide turned.
At ten the Dutch, having cleared the channel in the night, came boldly on with tide and wind, and after a hard struggle seized the guardships that Monk had manned. It was a moment of fearful anxiety as they prepared to charge the boom. A fire-ship led the way. It stuck on the top of it. A larger one followed, and with a crash the chain gave way. Then through the very channel that the Dutch prize should have blocked the enemy came on. In a few minutes two more guardships were on fire, and the grand old Naseby which had been launched twelve years ago, "with Oliver on horseback in the prow trampling six nations under foot;" which with changed name had proudly borne the King from exile to a throne; which not a year ago had wrung from Europe a cry of admiration while Monk's own flag was floating in tatters at its masthead,—was a prize in the hands of the Dutch.
"This was all I observed of the enemies' action on Wednesday," wrote the broken-hearted general with pathetic brevity when he reported to Parliament. He turned away—but not to grieve. Resistance and revenge were still his only thoughts. The other three great first-rates he sunk at their moorings, and then the artillery arrived. On the ebb the Dutch fell back with their prize, and all that day and the next morning the work of defence went on. "Courage mounted with occasion." Monk's spirit was upon them, and the fine lords and gentlemen toiled like cattle. They strained at the drag-ropes, they staggered under burdens, and when the hour was come they took their stand with ladle and linstock to work the guns.