On a bright day in the early part of spring, 1651, Lancelot and I went on board the Tiger, which had been hastily refitted for sea. Martin, who was on the look-out, welcomed us back.
“Just in time, gentlemen; there’s work cut out for us, and the admiral is to be on board this evening,” he said, as we shook hands. “We are to rout out that nest of hornets in Scilly, and I’ve a notion we shall make them disgorge the plunder they have been collecting for many years past.”
We were truly thankful for the promised excitement, for in the present state of our minds we could ill brook idleness. Besides the Tiger, a number of small frigates were collected, well calculated for the work to be undertaken. The admiral, accompanied by his nephew, came on board that evening, the former receiving Lancelot and me in his usual kind way, not forgetting to make inquiries whether our sisters and his friend Mr Kerridge had returned. “Don’t despair, notwithstanding, my young friends,” he said, when we told him nothing had been heard of them “By God’s providence they may still be found.”
Robert had now become, next to the captain, the principal officer on board, and though so young, he well fulfilled the duties of his post.
Lancelot had been promoted to the rank of lieutenant, but Dick and I were still in the admiral’s cabin. We were often employed in transcribing his letters and other similar duties, though at the same time we pursued our nautical studies. Despatches being received from London, we immediately sailed for our destination. Two days’ sail brought us in sight of the Scilly Islands, slumbering quietly on the surface of the bright blue ocean. They looked green and pleasant to the eye, with here and there a few rocky heights rising in their midst, but in most parts the land was not elevated many feet above the water. Above the other hills appeared the height on whose summit the Cavaliers had built a strong castle, which it was our object to capture. Coming off Saint Mary’s, the principal island, we hove to, and the admiral ordered a boat to be lowered, in which went Robert Blake, and I accompanied him, bearing a message summoning Sir John Grenville, the governor, to surrender. Having proceeded up the channel leading to the fort, we landed, bearing a white flag, and walked on until we reached the entrance. We were at once admitted, when we had an opportunity of taking a glance round the fortifications. The castle was filled with men, a large number being evidently, from their dress and appearance, officers. They were rollicking-looking gentlemen, and were laughing, and joking, and amusing themselves at our expense as we passed along.
Sir John Grenville received us with due courtesy. On reading the summons he replied—
“I might rather demand that Admiral Blake should deliver up his fleet, but yet I am willing to enter into a treaty, although it should be known to you that I have a force with me not only sufficient to protect these islands, but to restore the exiled prince to the throne of his fathers.”
“The result will prove that, sir,” answered the young lieutenant. “Am I to inform the admiral that you refuse to deliver up the islands and their castles to the fleet of the Commonwealth?”
“Certainly such is my intention,” answered Sir John, and he bowed us out of the hall.
We returned unmolested to the boat, and pulled back for the ship. No sooner had we arrived than the admiral sent for Captain Morris, one of the most trusted of his commanders, and ordered him to take eight hundred of the best men from the different ships, and to land at the back of Tresco, which is next in size to Saint Mary’s, and lies close to it.