Many of the horses had been thrown overboard to save the others, and one transport had been lost on the coast of Ireland, but there was no further damage, and the Prince by his great constancy, enthusiasm, spirit, and courage soon had all repaired and made fit, though he caused it to be put in the Dutch Gazette that he was utterly confounded and his forces so broken by the storm that he could not possibly sail before April, and copies of these Gazettes he saw were smuggled into England, where they were read by King James, who was mightily pleased by this news—and said it was no wonder since the Host had been exposed a week, and thereupon he withdrew all the concessions that the reported coming of the Prince had frightened him into, and so showed plainly that fear and not desire had wrung them from him; and both the relaxing and the tightening of his rule were fatally too late for his fortunes, for men had no longer any trust in his word or sincerity, and half the great lords were pledged to the Prince, and the greater number thought there could be no salvation save in his coming, so gave no heed to the actions of the King, but watched the weather-cocks and prayed for a Protestant wind.
Within Whitehall was a medley of priests and women, mingled with some honest gentlemen who really were loyal to the Kingship and the House of Stewart, and who were in no way listened to, and silent courtiers who were pledged to William, about the stern foolish King who alternated between weak hesitation and self-confident obstinacy.
Sunderland had kept the business of the Kingdom together, and now Sunderland was gone everything fell into bewildering chaos; the King, distracted between the advices of M. Barillon and the fears of Father Petre, the tears of the Italian Queen and the sullen coldness of his nobles, bitterly regretted Sunderland, whose intrigues he had not as yet any glimpse of. There was a fine fleet the King might have relied on, and the Admiral, Lord Dartmouth, was loyal enough, but the Duke of Grafton, son of the late King, and a rude handsome rake, went down privately to Plymouth and extorted a secret promise from most of the Captains that they would not fight for a Catholic King against a Protestant Prince.
The Army was gathered on Hounslow Heath with the object of overawing the capital, and the advice of those spirited gentlemen who were truly desirous to see the King retain his dignities was that he should put himself at the head of it and so advance to meet the invader.
But the spirit that had inspired James when he was rowed with his flag through the fires of Solebay had long left him; his courage had been the mere flash of youth and noble blood; he was old now, and his soul sank before danger; the terrors of his father's fate, the miseries of his own exiled youth, came upon him with horrible vividness; he let disasters crowd down upon him, and clung to his priests and his faith with the despair of stupidity.
Meanwhile the Prince of Orange, having taken a second leave of his wife and the States, sailed with great pomp, the sound of trumpets, the flutter of flags, and the discharge of artillery, from Helvoet, having been but eleven days repairing his ships, replacing his horses, and reassembling his fleet, and having, by the serenity of his behaviour, the unfaltering decision of his actions, the wisdom of his proposals, snatched glory from disappointment, as was ever the way of this Prince.
The little advice packets that darted out from the coast of England to watch his movements reported that he was making for the north, in which direction, with a brisk gale in his sails, he indeed steered for twelve hours; but when the night fell and the advice packets had hastened home with news, the Prince signalled to his fleet to tack about, which it did, and, with all the sail it could spread, put before the wind to the westward, and under a fair sky bore for the coasts of Devon.
This ruse had its full effect, for Lord Feversham, who commanded the English troops, was bid march northwards, and all the cattle were ordered to be driven from the coasts of Yorkshire.
With the next dawn the Dutch van made the Channel, along which it stretched for twenty miles in full view of England and France, the shores of both these countries being covered with spectators who viewed a sight such as had not been seen in these waters since the great Armada crossed these seas, a hundred years before.
The magnificence of this procession of mighty ships, which took seven hours to pass, going at their full speed before a strong east wind, the strength and purpose that they symbolized, the power of the Religion, once despised and oppressed, but that now was able to split the world into factions, whose name showed beneath the arms of Orange, that family which of all others had been most distinguished in the defence of liberty, the sheer pomp of war in the great vessels with their guns, flags, and netting, their attendant ships and companies of soldiers on board, the prestige of the man who led this daring expedition, all combined to thrill the hearts of those who watched, whether on the French or English coasts, whether they uttered curses or blessings, prayers for failure or success.