The admiral smiled faintly as he replied, “While I have life and my country requires my services. I must remain afloat.”
Of the homeward voyage I will not speak.
Once more the well-known Start appeared in sight, and the Constant Warwick steering for Lyme, we went on shore, thankful to heaven for our safe return to our native land.
Mr Kerridge forthwith set about placing his affairs, which had suffered from his long absence, in order, Lancelot and I assisting him.
Cicely promised to be mine when the war was over, as I acknowledged; should the admiral summon me, I could not refuse to go.
My sister Audrey had made the same promise to Lancelot; and the ladies could not help laughing and archly remarking to one another that “although they had so long worn a certain pair of garments—considered the exclusive property of men—they were never again likely to put them on.”
In the course of the summer Admiral Blake returned to England, but there was no repose for him. In spite of his illness, and the suffering he endured from his wound, he was occupied day after day in visiting the dockyards and arsenals, forwarding the building and repairing of ships, and other duties of his station.
The Commonwealth was at war with Spain. Portugal had not fulfilled the terms of her treaty, especially that clause which secured the English from the supervision of the diabolical Inquisition, and other nations were only waiting an opportunity to draw the sword against her.
Another fleet was consequently fitted out, and Admiral Blake, who had hoisted his flag on board the Naseby, sent the summons Lancelot and I had expected to join her.
The admiral looked pale and ill, yet his spirits were as high as ever, and as the fleet sailed down Channel, and the white cliffs of Old England faded from sight, we little thought that he, our beloved chief, had looked his last on the land he loved so dearly.