The King's Chameleon (29 page)

The following dawn was fine and clear, promising a hot June day, as it proved. By now the two fleets were east of the Galloper as they formed line ahead and passed and re-passed on opposing tacks, individual ships, and even squadrons at times, passing through the enemy's line. It was a long day of ceaseless gun-fire, of station-keeping on the ship ahead, of watching and waiting for the signal to tack and then of carrying out the manoeuvre and falling into station before re-engaging the enemy. As a mark of his faith, Albemarle had ordered
Albion
into a leading position of the centre division of the fleet, just ahead of the flag-ship. Thus Faulkner had to keep an eye on the ships ahead of him, thereby maintaining the cohesion of the line, yet watch for any signals the Commander-in-Chief might make for tactical reasons. This task was made all the more difficult by the clouds of gun-smoke that obscured the
Royal Charles
, even though she was but a few hundred yards astern of the
Albion
.

But it was the Dutch that out-classed the English that day, for when Tromp appeared cut off, de Ruyter came to his rescue and put Albemarle's ships under increasing pressure. One by one many of the English warships were beaten out of the line of battle and fell back towards the English coast, licking their wounds. So it went on during the third day until, towards the evening, Albemarle's fleet was reduced to almost half its full strength. Forming fifteen of his heaviest remaining ships in line abreast, he withdrew to the west-north-westwards, his stern chasers holding off the damaged but pursuing Dutch and covering the retreat of his damaged fleet. By this time the manoeuvring of the two fleets, driven hither and thither by the inexorable thrust of the tide, had rendered their reckoning uncertain. The pall of smoke that lay on the surface of the sea, the preoccupations of war and the effect these had on routine, sealed the fate of one of the finest ships in the English navy.

From the
Albion
, lying in Albemarle's defensive line, Faulkner was a witness to what turned out to be an incident which touched him personally. This ensured it was among those few vignettes of the long struggle that remained indelibly imprinted on his mind. He recalled the sails of the pursuing Dutch extending from north to south as they chased what they thought was a defeated enemy until, at about five o'clock in the afternoon, unbeknown to Faulkner at the time, distant sails were seen to the south-west. Were they the French … or Rupert?

Faulkner then had little appreciation of this development, his own attention being occupied by the plight of the
Royal Prince
which, under Sir George Ayscue, had driven hard upon the Galloper Shoal. He bore away in the
Albion
, intending to assist Ayscue, but anxious to avoid the tail of the Galloper. In his desire to succour Sir George he was too late: de Ruyter was approaching, igniting and sending fire-ships towards the casualty, so terrifying her crew, as was discovered afterwards, that with their fighting spirit in doubt, Ayscue surrendered. Faulkner afterwards recalled this moment poignantly, for not only was the
Royal Prince
one of the noblest ships in the English fleet, but she had once been the
Prince Royal
, the ship in which he had served as a lieutenant, had been honoured by the man who would become the ill-fated King Charles I, and had met and fallen in love with Katherine Villiers. The ship had been reconstructed several times at great expense; she had suffered a name-change under the Commonwealth, becoming the
Resolution
; but she was, nevertheless, a reminder of his own long career. It had almost choked him to see her colours struck and the Dutch boats pull towards her to take possession.

In the face of over-whelming force and the close proximity of a fire-ship to the
Albion
herself, Faulkner had been obliged to run, but the smoke pall that marked the burning of the
Royal Prince
had hung over the horizon long after the flames had dropped below it, deeply affecting him. De Ruyter's act of setting the
Royal Prince
on fire angered his own men, for they were thereby deprived of a rich prize, but its effect upon the English, particularly when word was later passed that her crew had behaved badly, produced a remarkable consequence.

De Ruyter did not press his pursuit; the arrival of English reinforcements persuaded him to gather his forces and await the morrow. He still possessed the advantage in numbers, by some seventeen serviceable men-of-war, and was in a sanguine frame of mind. He spent the remaining hours of daylight repairing damage, redistributing powder and shot, and tending the wounded. On the English side Albemarle and Rupert conferred, determining to fight on, despite the odds, the damage to the serviceable ships, the exhaustion of commanders and crews, the mounting list of casualties and the falling reserves of powder and shot.

Faulkner could remember little about the fourth of June beyond an utter confusion of noise and weariness, of fear and horror and an increasing anxiety over the expenditure of ammunition. When, days earlier, the
Albion
had withdrawn from Albemarle's fleet to land the dead Verney at Sheerness and where Faulkner had joined her, Septimus Clarke had diligently ensured that the opportunity had been taken to refill the ship's magazines with the regulation forty rounds per gun. Remarkably – the dockyard officers usually resenting any requisition in excess of the bare minimum – an Admiralty order had been received to increase this allowance by an additional ten rounds if a man-of-war had sufficient capacity to safely stow the extra powder and shot. Lieutenant Clarke had consulted with the
Albion
's Master, and they had duly taken the extra munitions on board.

But after four days of action, even this generous allowance was looking inadequate as the two fleets, neither doing much in the way of keeping station, engaged in a confused mêlée. With considerable skill, de Ruyter mustered enough ships round his flag to mount an attack upon the main body of what was left of the English fleet, but Rupert's flagship, the
Royal James
, was dismasted late in the day, and Albemarle's
Royal Charles
was severely damaged. Sir Christopher Myngs, one of the junior admirals, was mortally wounded in the
Victory
, and the
Albion
had her fore topmast shattered, her knightheads shot to pieces, her upper gun-deck pierced in three places and eight of her guns dismounted. Faulkner had lost about one third of his ship's company, killed or badly wounded. Like most of the other men-of-war, the
Albion
was able to work up to Sheerness, where the fleet recovered its breath, aware that it had suffered a defeat.

But while de Ruyter withdrew – his captains, officers and crews, cock-a-hoop with their success, and convinced that they had beaten their enemy into submission – the Dutch admiral was less euphoric. He was wise not to be; his superiority of numbers had told in his favour, but the more prescient of the observers had noted the discipline in the English fleet and that, for the most part, the English had revealed the power in the relatively new tactic of men-of-war sailing head to tail in line ahead. The Dutch had met them with the same method, but now, as the ships began their repairs, and after Rupert and Albemarle had consulted their commanders, they drew up revised Fighting Instructions. The loss of the
Royal Prince
, the smell of which still haunted Sir Christopher Faulkner as he regarded his shattered battle-ship and discussed her repairs with her officers, was a potent spur to revenge.

But there were also grave political issues at stake, issues with which Faulkner himself was all too familiar. He was almost unique among the post-captains who had assembled in the great cabin of the flag-ship the night they anchored in the Medway in not belonging to either of the two factions that divided his colleagues. In general there were those who favoured Prince Rupert and deprecated Albemarle, and those for whom Rupert was a cavalry commander of indifferent talent who owed his position entirely to his high birth. Faulkner was therefore almost alone among the assembled company who stood well in the opinion of both admirals. Although there were those who saw it their duty to disgrace Albemarle and intrigue for his removal after the recent defeat, both Rupert and Albemarle, being supremely fitted for their office, spoke with one voice. Like every other captain in that glittering if battered company, Faulkner was aware of the schism, but he was the only one privy to Albemarle's personal opinion.

‘Well, we have avoided Hell, Your Grace,' Faulkner had said, taking Albemarle's hand with a smile as he entered the great cabin.

‘Thus far,' responded the Duke confidentially, his face grim. ‘They will roast me alive for this,' he said. ‘We lost
sixteen
men-of-war besides the
Royal Prince
, and gained but a paltry handful.'

For a month the combined squadrons of Rupert and Albemarle lay in the Medway repairing damage, recruiting their crews, recharging their magazines and landing their wounded. Of the last there were many hundreds, almost past the reckoning. Although the flag officers left their flag-ships, few captains did, all being intent on readying the fleet for further service. Sorely tempted to travel to London to see Katherine, Faulkner drove himself and his crew to their work. Young Clarke proved his worth; slightly wounded in his shoulder, which temporarily disabled his right arm, the
Albion
's first lieutenant laboured as hard as his commander, inspired by the older man's example. Having been badly damaged by cannon-shot, the main-mast required replacement, as did the fore top-mast, the long yard on the mizzen, the bowsprit and four upper yards. Of their sails, four had to be unbent, sent down and replaced. There were a score of shot-holes to be properly plugged, and the sections of the upper hull, in way of the upper gun-deck, needed extensive repairs, requiring the services of the dockyard ship-wrights from Chatham. In securing their services, Faulkner was not alone; his fellow commanders of almost every surviving ship in the fleet were clamouring for ship-wrights, so that much of his time was taken up pleading, begging, cajoling and threatening the Master Attendant and the Master Shipwright.

In such circumstances, a visit to London was out of the question and, had he attempted such an adventure, it would have proved impracticable. Such was the demand for coaches, or any other suitable conveyance, that few were to be found, while the recollection of the state of his arse after his ride to and from Oxford put any thoughts of riding on horseback out of Faulkner's mind. He did, however, find time to write to Katherine, explaining the urgency of the situation, pleading the sense of revenge transfusing the fleet and making particular reference to the loss of the
Royal Prince
. In this he reminded her that she had once been the
Prince Royal
. Ignoring the fact that he had in fact suffered several superficial wounds, he reassured her that – in his opinion quite miraculously – he was unwounded. Only one of his four wounds, a laceration from an oak splinter across his left thigh, caused any concern, until he ordered his surgeon to wash out the wound with the contents of a half-empty bottle of wine, roaring at the pain but urging the over-taxed man to: ‘Scour the damn thing out!' Having then ensured that, instead of a bristle, a waxed thread was left to drain out the excess of ‘yellow bile', he improved rapidly. This wound, along with a bodily stiffness and mental lassitude occasioned by four days' near continuous exertion, added to his reluctance to mount a horse, though this last could not affect the repair of the
Albion
.

Within a week he had a reply from Katherine.

My Dearest
, she wrote from Hannah's house.

We have Good Intelligence that Edmund and the East India fleet is at St Helen's Road, awaiting Convoy into the River of Thames when your Present Business is Resolved. God grant my Prayers that this may be Soon and to the Advantage of the King's Majesty. Edmund speaks of a Fever, but his Letter to Hannah was Reassuring, from which we Suppose him to be Recovered.

Hannah is well, as is the Boy. She would Dearly Desire Another and sends you her Duty and Love, saying she will Write soon. Knowing you would rather have News I have not detained this Letter in order to await her Pleasure.

I have heard but twice from Nathan, on both Occasions it seems that Your Wife Troubled him. He spoke of Her leaving the House, which thing She has not done in my Recollection. And of her being a Witch, which I think very Foolish, She having a Distortion of Mind more Dangerous unto Herself, than unto Others. Hannah is Concerned that She may attempt to Harm the Boy but I have Calmed Her in that Prospect.

As for Your Kate, She is well and Awaits only Your Safe Return …

Faulkner sniffed and rubbed the unmanly tears that had, unbidden, filled his eyes. He re-read the letter, hearing Katherine's voice in the words, and her tone in the idiosyncrasy of her hand-writing. It was good to know that the
Duchess of Albemarle
lay off Portsmouth in company with the other East Indiamen. That sharpened the urgency of his present task. As for the news of Judith, that was of some concern. Why had she taken to leaving the house? Where did she go, and to what purpose? Of course, there was nothing essentially wrong with her going abroad, Faulkner knew. He had promised not to lay any restrictions upon her, but the sudden change of habit, occurring in his absence, bothered him. While Katherine sensibly dismissed wild talk of witchcraft, there lingered in Faulkner's mind a less-enlightened point-of-view. Such women may have been incapable of the magic they had once been thought to practise, but Judith had already demonstrated her headstrong beliefs, and her willingness to accomplish her fell plans. Who knew what she might have precipitated had she not been thwarted? What else did you call such waywardness in a mature woman but witch-craft? Faulkner asked himself.

He shook his head over Nathan. Although he had seemed to recover his wits after his drunken breakdown, it had long been clear that his sister's conduct had affected him deeply. He was a man accustomed to a steady routine, used to the vicissitudes of commerce, to be sure, but not a man to meet the unexpected with that resolution expected of a sea-officer. He had been willing enough to leave such matters to the likes of Faulkner, just as Faulkner left the book-keeping, the tallying, the supervision of clearances inwards and outwards, the levying of agency commission and the payment of dues and other impositions to Gooding. Until Judith's murderous politics had intervened, their partnership had worked well.