"Oh for a barrel of powder and a slow match lashed to her rudder pintle!" exclaimed Drake. "But stand by, here comes another!"
Such was the case, and before the Jeanne d' Arc was lost in the mist the bows of another vessel loomed up. By this time the shallop was wearing and gathering way, so the master ordered both sails to be lowered, a manoeuvre that was smartly executed, and as the second Frenchman passed us our craft was lying motionless on the water.
This time fortune did not smile on us, for as the shallop was on the Frenchman's lee a spurt of flame burst from the man-of-war, immediately followed by a deafening roar, and with it our mizzen mast went by the board with a terrific crash.
The shot was replied to by the nearest Frenchman, and for the space of a quarter of an hour a spirited pitched battle occurred between the various ships of the squadron, friend firing into friend in the confusion and excitement.
Though several shots pitched close to us, we escaped without further injury, and ere the echoes of the last report had died away we were far behind the now invisible fleet.
The anxiety of the master on account of the fog had vanished utterly on meeting with the Frenchmen, and with spirited promptness he set the crew to clear away the wreckage and parbuckle the broken mast.
"My men," he cried, "that fleet is none other than the forty sail of the Duke of Beaufort, who seeks to effect a junction with the Dutch! Yo ho! Straight for the nearest land we'll make now. Whether we beach the shallop on an exposed coast or bring her into port I care not, but land we must, and bear tidings hot-foot to His Grace the Duke of Albemarle."
So saying, he turned the shallop's head due north, and as daylight dawned the mist dispersed, and we found ourselves a few miles from the Kentish coast, with Rye plainly visible.
An hour later and the shallop was making her way cautiously into the sand-encumbered harbour, and, the moment we landed, the officers, myself included, obtained horses and set out for Chatham, leaving the men to follow afoot as best they might. Meanwhile the news that the Duke of Beaufort's squadron was really in the Channel had spread abroad, causing the timid inhabitants of Rye to make preparations for a hurried exodus, while the trainbands were called out by beat of drum, and had assembled in the marketplace.
Our journey to Chatham was performed without incident, though the heavy rains had made the roads a perfect quagmire in many places. Tenterden we reached in an hour, and two hours later we were clattering through the streets of Maidstone.