Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (19 page)

Daniel and Henry found themselves on board the
Elizabeth
more swiftly than they could have imagined. It was a ship of the line that he had noted on their passage down river but it was only a third rate, at which they were a little disappointed. Nevertheless it carried sixty guns on two gun decks and the captain assured them that this type of enlarged frigate was the most useful vessel in the navy.

Exciting as it was to be fulfilling his dream Daniel felt quite breathless at the sudden change in day to day living. He and Henry exchanged their spacious bedchambers for the cramped berths under the gangways which the midshipmen shared with the coxswain.

The high-ceilinged dining-room and elegant parlour of the Branford’s home, the leisurely dinners with abundant choice of meats, fish and fowl, the free time to play tennis or go the theatre or just sit back and enjoy lively conversation, all this was suddenly at an end. On board the Elizabeth Daniel had to stoop low after several bangs on the head. He and Henry were subjected to ill-cooked food, constant swearing and excessive drinking by the other midshipmen who were younger but had some experience of the sea which they seemed curiously unwilling to share.

Daniel commented to Henry, “They are suspicious of us because we have been to university and they fear we will soon overtake them. Let us do our best to do so.”

Captain Wallace, who had seen service in the Dutch wars under Cromwell, was unusual in taking the training of young officers very seriously and they were immediately put to learning all the parts of the vessel with lessons on navigation, seamanship and tactics. They were introduced to the theory and practice of gunnery, but not allowed to touch the guns themselves.

After one week they felt they had been there a lifetime and Daniel couldn’t help stabs of homesickness, when he wondered what they were doing in the leafy surroundings of Horden Hall as spring turned into summer. He had little leisure for writing home and no letters from there had yet found their way to him on board.

He was conspicuous not only by his height, which was nothing but a nuisance, but by his swift mastery of the maritime terms and the principles of navigation. To apply his understanding of mathematics to real problems fascinated him. The only area in which Henry excelled him was in climbing the rigging – a feat they were expected to achieve early in their training.

Henry’s smaller body and agile limbs took him up like a monkey. Daniel, sent to the masthead, had to endure the gibes of the master seaman who called out, “What ails the lad? He’s half way up when he’s standing on the deck.”

Daniel had not been aware that he had a problem with heights until he reached the yard arm. Sweat soaking him he pressed on up the ratlines though he dare not look down or his hands would be glued to the ropes and he would be unable to move at all. When he reached the masthead he could only think, “Cling on or you’re a dead man.” To begin the descent he overcame fear such as he had never in his life experienced. When he reached the deck he had to rush to the rail and vomit. He was almost dead with shame when the wind blew some back in his face and everyone who saw it laughed and cheered.

“Keep off the windward side, landlubber,” roared the master seaman and hosed him down.

The first time their ship ventured out on exercises to test both ship and crew he expected to feel seasickness before they were clear of the river. To his great relief it didn’t come. He decided that his body having stopped growing was at last more stable.

In the early autumn, though there had been no declaration of war, news spread round the ship that the Dutch had been defeated by Admiral Holmes in raids on their trading posts in Guinea and New Amsterdam in America. There was great delight among the crew and impatience to be at sea and involved themselves. By turns the officers had leave to go ashore but in December all were mustered again when news came that there had now been a terrible reversal in Guinea and De Ruyter the Dutch admiral had recaptured all the prizes that Holmes’ fleet had taken. The mood was now all for revenge. Although war was not officially declared till January 1665 no one had any doubt that hostilities had commenced and they would soon be called into action.

Daniel at last received a letter from Bel in reply to his first sent from the ship.

‘
We lapped up your news here like thirsty cats but I cannot pretend that it made me happy. Here we are in Northumberland, remote from the folly of war. How placidly we could look on our lovely winter landscape, serene under a blue sky and delicately whitened from a recent snowfall and could ignore all that is going on in the seas around the southern coasts, but that we know our precious son is in the midst of it all.

‘I dream of battles fought between great ships, splendid in their beauty, but swiftly ravaged by cannon fire. Oh how I wish you could understand the daily torment I suffer from not knowing where you are and what dangers you may be in! Dear Ursula tries her best to keep me cheerful and your father hides his own anxiety so as not to increase mine.

‘I never imagined being torn apart like this. I thought myself quite the stoic. Twice I have let my mother and sister go from me with hardly a pang. I never truly loved my brother. I loved my father in his last years and grieved at his death but it was a simple passing pain. Since loving your father – as you know with great passion – we have been through many trials but he was always at hand. Then God sent you into our lives, our first and only surviving child. I don’t think I knew how desperately I loved you until you deliberately put yourself in peril of your life.

‘I know I should not be writing this. Your father would disapprove and say I am giving you unnecessary pain, but oh, I beg you, dearest Dan, when you have satisfied your longing to serve your King, come back to me, dwell here in safety in your ancestral home and give your poor mother the joy of seeing you daily.

‘I may add your Grandmother Wilson says she is only staying alive to hear of some heroic exploit of yours and then she can quietly depart and be with her Joseph and her own beloved Daniel. It makes me tremble to think that you are only a few months older than he was when he met his untimely death – for which I still feel in a small way responsible – and I fear that by not expressly commanding your presence here after graduation we may be responsible for yours! My head tells me you will return a more mature man but my heart fears for my boy.

‘I must mention that we have had a letter purporting to come from Cousin Clifford, though it is in Celia’s hand, saying that they would be interested in getting up a marriage between you and Eunice. You said you had paid a call on them. Did you see Eunice herself or William? If you are secretive about it I am sure your deepest feelings are involved. When you were younger you told me everything. How can we answer the cousins if we know not your own thoughts? I have laid bare my heart to you.

‘Pray write when you can send letters ashore. They give me joy, although I still shake at the thought of you at a masthead, but at least I know that you were alive and well when you wrote.

‘May God bless you and bring you safe home from this foolish and unnecessary fighting so that smiles may again wreath the face of your ever loving Mother,

Bel Wilson Horden.’

It was not a letter to lift the spirits of a serving officer, Dan decided, having thoroughly digested it. He was asked to lay bare the deepest feelings of his heart when he had neither time nor leisure to indulge them. He was fighting for a foolish and unnecessary cause. He was a cruel son to bring his loving mother pain and suffering.

Of course she imagined him in the midst of flying cannon balls when all the fleet had done lately was progress towards the Dutch coast with the idea of blockading it but because of the problem of victualling so many ships at a distance from port they had been forced to withdraw towards the coast of Norfolk. The crews, bored and impatient, were waiting to see what the next orders from on high would produce. War was not after all exciting. Most of the time was spent in petty discomfort among men – apart from Henry Branford – whom he would not have chosen as particular friends.

At last in June word came that a real battle might be imminent. At the same time news of an outbreak of plague in London began to filter through to the fleet. Pockets of plague were so common that little notice was taken. Much more exciting was the prospect of a Dutch fleet with over one hundred ships bearing down upon them.

Daniel gulped at the news. This was what he had enrolled for – to defend his King. The moment was surely coming.

“We have a hundred ships too,” he told Henry, “and better guns than theirs.”

“They have more warships.”

“But we are backed by large merchant men. We will knock them to pieces.”

It was light talk but when Daniel saw the Dutch approach from a row of dots on the horizon to a great fleet in line of battle and, looking about, saw all the sea filled with vast ships on both sides, his soul was stirred as it had been when the idea of naval service had first seized him. This was what he had seen in his mind’s eye. It was happening all around him.
Elizabeth
was in the centre of the Red Squadron with the Duke of York himself in his flagship, the
Royal Charles
. Here were the splendid ships, awesome in their beauty as his mother had written, but soon to be ravaged by cannon fire. He took his station on deck, his pulse galloping. How did a sea battle begin? He had no notion.

The stately lines of ships first passed by each other warily at a distance but after the English fleet tacked again at closer range the guns opened up. It was the first time Daniel had heard them in anger. He had laughed at the noise of cannon on the day of the King’s return but this was incomparably louder, beneath his feet and filling the air above from every direction. The orderly lines on both sides began to break up and the seamen were kept busy trying to maintain station. Daniel and Henry could only stand by to help where a hand was needed.

The hot June day wore on and the Dutch were taking the heavier punishment. In mid-afternoon a tremendous explosion rent the
Eendracht
, one of the Dutch flagships as a cannon ball from the
Royal Sovereign
hit the magazine. Daniel saw the great vessel engulfed in a plume of fire. The sight sickened him. There were hundreds of men aboard her and his mother’s words of ‘foolish and unnecessary’ seemed tame indeed. All around him though was cheering. Confusion quickly seized the rest of the Dutch squadrons as they set sail to escape some one way and some another. The English pursued into the night before orders to shorten sail on the Duke of York’s flagship led to a withdrawal of the Red Squadron, to general disappointment.

Rumours flew that the Duke of York himself had been wounded, then that a group with him had been mowed down by a single cannon shot, spattering him with their blood. Daniel had looked up during the battle to see a hole rent in their ship’s sail directly above his head. If the elevation of the Dutch gun had been lower he would not be here.

That was my first taste of action, he thought, trying to seek comfort in sleep which his long legs always made difficult. I am alive but I did nothing of any consequence. He closed his eyes but could still see a great ship burning like a candle on the ocean.

Eunice emerged from the crypt of St Mary Magdalen to break into an instant sweat as the midday heat wrapped round her. Immediately she could hear the distant rumble of guns.

“What is it?” she asked a street pedlar.

“Eh, there’s a great sea battle going on off Lowestoft they say. Folks have been running down to the river all morning to hear it louder.”

“Are all our ships involved?”

“Nay, I know not, but ‘tis likely. They say the Dutch are in full strength. Now, mistress,” as she began to move away, “look at this bunch of ribbons for a penny. You’ll not get better than that anywhere.”

She shook her head. Apart from tying up her hair and lacing the front of her bodice she had no use for ribbons and Father would have frowned at the bright colours of the bunch the man was holding out.

She hurried off but had to slow down as she breathed in the hot smoky air. Despite the warmth people had their fires lit to cook their bit of fish or a few eggs for their dinners. All the time she was asking herself, “Is Daniel in the midst of this fighting? Dear God, protect him.”

Glancing down a narrow lane her eye was caught by a glaring red cross painted on a door. Above was scrawled also in red the words, ‘Lord have mercy on us.’ So the plague had reached to here. There had been cases since May in St Giles in the Fields but now they were appearing closer to home. It struck her that death was not only lurking out there where those sullen booms were sounding but here all around where thousands of people were at risk of its silent progress.

She found her father laying out on two wooden plates some cress to which she added from her basket the cheese and rye bread she had been given by the Reverend Woodhouse. The jug of milk he filled daily from the dairy was on the table.

She wiped her brow with a clean rag and he silently poured her a mug which she drank at a gulp.

“Slowly, slowly,” he said. “Everything in moderation.”

She wanted to scream at him that it was a furnace out there and she was dying of thirst. All she said was, “The plague is in the alley leading to Foster Lane.”