By this time the question of the striking of the flag had been forced into great prominence: even the “footpads” of the Channel, the humble picaroons and shallops, hailed the English ketches which they pillaged with the cry of “Strike, you English dogs!” It has been shown in a previous chapter that though the ceremony was enforced in the narrow seas in the reign of James, it did not then become a burning political question, and the same is true of the early part of the reign of Charles. The English commanders were then satisfied with a moderate acknowledgment of the “honour,” and the Dutch at least rarely ever contested it. That it was enforced in 1627 appears from the narrative of the Earl of Warwick’s voyage in that year, when a French man-of-war was compelled off Falmouth “to come up by the lee,” though nothing is said about the flag itself.[502] But when France openly aspired to become a great naval Power, England began to force the salute with a high hand. It is from the year 1631 that we may date the marked development of this symbol, as it was claimed to be, of the sovereignty of the sea. We have already seen Pennington’s instructions in that year, which, however, only mention the striking of the top-sail; and although the omission of the flag may have been only verbal, there are reasons for thinking that the custom and etiquette of the ceremony were not well understood at the Admiralty. Thus on Pennington reporting that French men-of-war were trying to force English merchant vessels to strike to the French flag,[503] he was ordered by the Admiralty “to see that no one presumes to carry the flag in the Narrow Seas”; all the more since “some” pretended to have an interest in the sovereignty of these seas.[504] When Pennington pointed out that this “was more than ever was done, for our own merchants’ ships and all other nations ever have and do wear their flags, till they come within shot of the king’s ships: if they take them in and keep them in till they are out of shot again, it is as much as has ever been expected,”—when he told the Admiralty this, he was informed that the “Lords would not expect impossibilities”—the main business he was to take care of was to see that no foreigner carried the flag where his Majesty’s ships were present in the Narrow Seas.[505] Then Captain Plumleigh in the Antelope reported that on meeting two States’ men-of-war guarding the herring-fishers off Orfordness, the Admiral had “stood” with the Antelope with his flag aloft, and did not take it in till several shots had been fired at him; and when requested to come on board and explain his conduct, he refused. How, asked Plumleigh, was he to comport himself in such cases? The matter was brought before the Admiralty, but no answer appears to have been then given.[506] Two or three years later Pennington put the same and other queries to the king. He had been appointed in April 1633 Admiral of the Narrow Seas, with general instructions already quoted ([see p. 262]), to preserve the king’s honour, coasts, and jurisdiction, and to compel homage to the flag. Pennington asked whether, when a stranger refused to take in his flag till forced, he should not be “brought in as a delinquent”; whether, if he met a foreign fleet of far greater strength than his own, and they refused to take in their flags, he should fight with them about it “upon so great disadvantage,” or make “a fair retreat”; whether on going into Calais, Dunkirk, or the Briel—that is to say, ports in France, Flanders, and Holland—and finding strangers riding there with their flags aloft, he should force them to take them in?[507] He also wrote to the Admiralty in 1634 substantially repeating these inquiries, and asking for a positive or negative expression in regard to them in his instructions. The Admiralty remitted Pennington’s letter to Nicholas and Sir Henry Marten to frame answers. The final opinion on the first point was that by the law of the Admiralty both in England and France, the ships were forfeited—that is to say, the same penalty applied as was prescribed in King John’s ordinance. It was, however, rarely, if ever, carried into effect. The instructions on this matter usually ran that punishment was to be inflicted at the place, or the commander brought in to answer his contempt. When the Earl of Northumberland asked a similar question in 1636, he was told the offender should be “punished on the place.”[508] In Nicholas’ opinion much more than the forfeiture of the ship was required; the offender, he thought, should be brought in as a delinquent, and if he resisted he should be tried as a pirate; but this absurd interpretation was overruled.
On the other points it is not quite clear what the final official answers were. Nicholas thought that when a superior fleet was encountered, the English Admiral ought not to engage rashly about the flag; but if he once commanded the foreigners to strike, then “the ships were better to be lost than his (the king’s) honour and sovereignty yielded.” The opinion he gave with regard to forcing foreign vessels to strike in foreign ports was in these words: “For ye French roades,” he said, “ye king of England’s ships should suffer none to wear ye flag but themselves: but in other roades after salutes both may weare ye flag without dishonour.” The exceptional treatment proposed for ships in French roads may have been in part owing to the political circumstances of the time, but probably chiefly had reference to ancient custom and the old claims of England to the soil of France. Charles still styled himself King of France; and later Selden argued that though English dominion had been lost in France itself, it nevertheless extended over the sea up to the very shores. It became the common practice to enforce the homage on the coast of the Continent, but not within harbours, ports, rivers, or within buoys, or at any place under the command of the guns of forts or castles.[509] The Earl of Northumberland, on repeating Pennington’s question in 1636 as to Calais, Dunkirk, and the Briel, was told that the homage was to be exacted “in the roads out of command of any forts.”[510]
There was always some doubt as to the etiquette of the salutation between ships and forts or castles. Dutch vessels were fired on and detained at Portland Castle in 1633 for putting up their flags in the presence of the king’s colours, which were flying on the walls; and the act was justified to the States’ ambassador when he complained about it. In the year before, the commanders of the Castles at Deal and Walmer fired upon a French man-of-war that came in with his flag in the main-top, because after taking it down when requested, he hoisted it again on going away. “I gave him five shots,” said the Captain of Deal, “without hitting him,” and he added that the Council on a previous occasion approved of a like action against the Dutch, who had never since offended, but he had never heard of the French attempting it before. The Admiralty asked Pennington’s opinion as to the proper course, and he said he thought that all the ships of his Majesty’s subjects and of foreigners and strangers should strike their flags and top-sails as they passed by any of his Majesty’s castles; such, he said, was the custom in all parts of Christendom, “which, being done, they may ride under the castles with their colours flying abroad if there be none of the king’s own ships present.” The king’s castles had thus not so high a status as the king’s ship; but the military officers were not less zealous than those of the navy. Pennington himself had an amusing illustration of their zeal, for in 1631 Sir William Killigrew, the Captain of Pendennis Castle, persisted in “spending the king’s powder” in shooting at the Bonaventure, Pennington’s ship, for not striking its flag to the castle,—“a thing,” said the Admiral, “never used by a king’s ship, nor would he be the beginner of it.” Fortunately, the gunnery of the time was wild; but Killigrew had to be summoned before the Admiralty, rebuked, and, “upon submission, discharged with strict command never more to offend in that kind,” before the practice ceased. The Admiralty also issued an order to the notorious Sir James Bagg, the Governor of Plymouth and the Vice-Admiral for South Devon, strictly forbidding that any castle or fort under his command should fire upon the king’s ship, even if passing near with their flags on the top of any of their masts, “for,” he was told, “they are as absolutely his Majesty’s castles or forts, though floating, as that under your command.”[511]
As was to be expected from the attempted maritime rivalry openly displayed by France, and from English policy at the time, our naval officers vied with one another in compelling homage to the flag. The Dutch, both merchant vessels and men-of-war, more particularly the latter, usually struck at once to the English ships. If they showed reluctance, or hoisted their flag again too soon, they were fired at. The English captains insisted on the right off Continental ports. Thus Captain Richard Plumleigh, having gone to Calais in 1632 to bring over the corpse of Sir Richard Walker, late British ambassador, in his ship—well named the Assurance,—“bestowed some powder on the French flags,” and caused all the French shipping in Calais Road to take in their colours, “at which,” he said, “they repined heavily.” Some of the States’ men-of-war also riding in the Road took the side of the French, and sent to Plumleigh to say that they knew no reason why he should demand superiority on that side of the sea, and “threatening” to wear their flags there as well as he. But Plumleigh boldly returned a message—what he called “a cooling card”—to their Admiral, saying that if he showed a Dutch flag there, he “would sink him or be sunk by him,” which caused him to keep his colours close.[512] In the following year, Captain Ketelby, of the Bonaventure, was sent to Boulogne to bring over another ambassador (Lord Weston), and finding the Admiral of Amsterdam in the Road with his flag up, he “gave her a shot,” when she struck it and presently hoisted it again. Ketelby then sent his lieutenant to command him to take in his flag or prepare to defend it. The Dutch Admiral argued, and kept it up till Ketelby was preparing to shoot again, when he took it in. Two days later another Dutch admiral, this time the Admiral of Holland, came into the Road with ten or twelve ships of war; within a reasonable distance he struck his flag twice and saluted with seven pieces, and then he also hoisted it again. Ketelby “conceived this homage not sufficient,” and notwithstanding the disparity of force, sent him a command to take in his flag, which he did, and kept it in till the Bonaventure departed. Such incidents show both the domineering conduct of the English captains and the forbearance and good sense of the Dutch, who acted in obedience to the strict orders they had received to strike to the English ships. But nearer home Ketelby had not so much glory. On returning with the ambassador he met ten sail of Hollanders on the English coast between Dover and Folkestone, one, a States’ man-of-war, bearing his flag on the main-top, while a merchant vessel had his top-sails “a-trip.” Both were obdurate as to rendering the accustomed homage, and in spite of the fact that Ketelby sent twenty shot “in and through” the sides of the merchantman, she would not lower her sails in the least.[513]
In many instances peaceful merchant vessels suffered greatly over this question of striking. During the cruise of Lindsey’s fleet, Dutch men-of-war, and also a Danish warship, struck without hesitation, even at Calais. So also as a rule did the merchant vessels; but sometimes they transgressed the rule, it might be from ignorance, and then they were exposed to harsh treatment. Thus, three great ships of Amsterdam bound for Pernambuco, on meeting the Constant Reformation off Plymouth, did everything required of them; but hoisting their sails before they got clear of the Vanguard, the latter gave them six pieces of ordnance, twice sending a cannon-ball through the hull of one of them. Then for a similar reason, too great an alacrity in re-hoisting her flag, another Hollander was shot through with five pieces by the Rainbow. So anxious were the English officers to compel the homage that they sometimes demanded it at night. The Freeman, returning from convoying merchant-ships to Dunkirk, met in the night-time a fleet of Dutch merchantmen with one convoy accompanying them, and shot to make them strike. In the darkness the traders took the English ship for a Dunkirk privateer and made what haste they could away. The States’ man-of-war, coming up to the rescue, approached so near the Freeman before she discovered what she was (and then immediately struck) that a collision occurred, the bowsprit of the English ship being broken, while her anchor carried away the Dutchman’s chains and stays. The Dutch captain then came on board, humbly asked pardon for what had happened, excused himself by the night and the mistake, offered to go before the Lord Admiral, and paid for the bowsprit and the shot.[514]
While the Dutch were thus forbearing, the Dunkirkers, the protégés of Spain, for whom Charles was supposed to be making sacrifices, were refractory. They refused to strike to the Vanguard lying at anchor off Gravelines, although it fired many times at them: before the anchor could be got up they were off, and it was useless to follow. They sent a message that they did not care for the English now, and would not strike. On the other hand, just as Lindsey reached the Downs at the beginning of October, Captain Stradling in the Swallow met the French Admiral, for whom the Earl had been searching all summer, off Falmouth with two ships. He immediately shot at him, and he struck his top-sails and saluted. But this was on the English coast, and was not contrary to Richelieu’s instructions. The French, on their part, a week or two afterwards forced an English merchant vessel to strike “for the king of France.”[515]
Perhaps the worst offenders of all were the British merchantmen. Again and again the naval commanders complained to the Admiralty of their remissness or neglect to strike, which they said set a very bad example to foreigners. Pennington reported to the king that they passed his ships in the narrow seas, not only without speaking, but even “presumptuously wearing their flag at the topmast head” until forced to take it in; and he recommended the king to issue a proclamation commanding all ships to speak with the king’s ships and give an account of themselves, or be subject to fine and punishment. Pennington asked what he was to do if any of the king’s subjects were so stubborn as not to strike their flag and top-sails in due time: “I meane,” he said, “soe soone as they come within distance of our ordynaunce.” On this Sir Henry Marten recommended that when an English ship did not strike in time, the naval captain should complain to his Admiral or to the Admiralty. He was strongly of opinion that too much discretion should not be left to the naval officers in this matter. It was, he said, too much to hazard an English ship being sunk or English lives lost on a point on which a mistake might easily be made.[516] The official instruction given to the officers was either to punish the offenders themselves or to report them to the Admiral or to the Admiralty. Neglectful merchant vessels were sometimes severely punished. In April 1632, when Lady Strange and a large party of Lords, with a great retinue, went on board Pennington’s ship, the Convertive, lying in Tilbury Hope, a merchant ship, the Matthew of London, passed up the river “in an insolent manner,” not striking his flag until he had come up with the Convertive, and soon hoisting it again notwithstanding the shots Pennington fired at him. For this the master was lodged in jail, and was only released on expressing his contrition to the Lords of the Admiralty. The Earl of Lindsey took a sharper course in a similar case. On returning to the Downs, no doubt irritated from his failure and smarting under Coke’s gibes, he pounced upon two English merchantmen who had presumed to wear their flags within full view of the fleet, “almost within command of shot,” and in the presence of nearly 200 sail of British and foreign ships. The masters were at once seized, brought on board and put in custody, and a day or two later, a council of war having been called and Sir H. Marten consulted, one of them, William Bushell of Limehouse, captain of the Neptune, was fined £500, and the other, Thomas Scott of Ratcliffe, was fined £100, for so gross a misdemeanour.[517]
From the foregoing it is evident that in those days peaceful merchant vessels traversing the narrow seas had not a very happy time. It must often have been irksome in the extreme to the masters, probably not always understanding the minutiæ of the rules,—which, indeed, the naval captains themselves sometimes failed fully to comprehend,—to render due and proper homage to the English flag. To compel foreign men-of-war to salute the king’s ships was a different matter. It flattered the national vanity and kept alive the national aspiration for power on the sea, and it did not interfere with the duties of the men-of-war which gave the salute. But to the merchantman anxious for his voyage, often undermanned and contending with turbulent seas, it must have been vexatious to be called upon every now and again to lower his top-sails to a king’s ship, or take the risk of a shot through his sides or a heavy fine. The inconvenience led later to a modification in the practice, so far as concerned English vessels, it being insisted on only “when it could be done without loss of the voyage”;[518] but it may be said here that the regulation with regard to merchant vessels striking to a man-of-war was always afterwards embodied in the Admiralty instructions, offenders being reported to the Admiralty, and proceedings often taken against them in the Admiralty Court.[519]