The Four Days' Battle of 1666: The Greatest Sea Fight of the Age of Sail

by Frank L. Fox

Overview

“An excellent piece of work, not just as an account of the Four Days’ Battle itself but also for its account of the entire Second Anglo-Dutch War” (HistoryOfWar.org).
 
On June 1, 1666, a large but outnumbered English fleet engaged the Dutch off the mouth of the Thames in a colossal battle that was to involve nearly 200 ships and last four days. False intelligence had led the English to divide their fleet to meet a phantom threat from France, and although the errant squadron rejoined on the final day of the battle, it was not enough to redress the balance. Like many a defeat, it sparked controversy at the time, and has been the subject of speculation and debate ever since.
 
The battle was an event of such overwhelming complexity that for centuries it defied description and deterred study, but this superbly researched book is now recognized as the definitive account. It provides the first clear exposition of the opposing forces, fills many holes in the narrative and answers most of the questions raised by the actions of the English commanders.
 
It makes for a thoroughly engrossing story, and one worthy of the greatest battle of the age of sail.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781783469635
Publisher:	Pen & Sword Books Limited
Publication date:	02/20/2019
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	448
Sales rank:	564,835
File size:	27 MB
Note:	This product may take a few minutes to download.

About the Author

FRANK L FOX is one of the world's leading experts on the navies of the seventeenth century. He is best known for his _Great Ships: The Battlefleet of Charles II_, a book that combines his knowledge of ship design and contemporary marine art.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

The Generals

To see this fleet upon the ocean move, Angels drew wide the curtains of the skies; And Heav'n, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rise.

A battle is more than just a brief flurry of madness. The clash itself is only the most memorable occurrence – an emphatic punctuation – in a long train of interlocking decisions, actions, and coincidences which always begin long before the decisive moment. This was particularly true of the Four Days' Battle. The great engagement was shaped and influenced by over a decade of events, all of which have a place in the story. It seems appropriate, however, to select a starting point somewhat nearer the battle, and a convenient beginning can be found in a minor administrative ritual which took place on a winter day in the year 1666. It was such a mundane and everyday proceeding that the details of the scene are not even recorded; but on that day, somewhere in the rambling palace of Whitehall, a luxuriantly bewigged gentleman in his early thirties flourished a freshly inked quill over the foot of a handwritten document and scribbled his signature: 'James'.

With that short stroke of the pen, the chief sea command of the Royal Navy of England instantly changed hands. The heading of the document, written in a beautiful clerkly script, identified its author as 'James, Duke of York and Albany, Earle of Ulster, Lord High Admirall of England and Ireland & Constable of Dover Castle, Lord Warden of ye Cinque Ports and Governour of Portsmouth &c'. It was addressed 'To my most dear and entirely beloved Cousin Prince Rupert and George Duke of Albemarle'. The paper contained a single wordy paragraph written in the flowing, convoluted style so dear to seventeenth-century officialdom. It began:

Whereas ye King my Soveraigne Lord and Brother hath thought fitt and expedient for his service, that ye chief Command of his Majs. Fleet should be exercised by Joint Commission, that so ye affaires thereof maybe carryed on by Joint Councill & advice and also in regard of ye accidents of warr, and ye distraction which many times happened by the loss of ye Chiefe Commander when ye same is entrusted on a single person. And whereas through ye long experience which his Maj. as well as myself hath had of your affection Courage and Knowledge in maritime affaires, His Maj. hath been pleased to approove of ye choice of you for ye Chief command of his Majs. Fleet for this present expedition ...

The paragraph went on windily, finally closing with the standard phrase for official commissions, 'Given under my hand and seal at Whitehall the 22nd of Feb. 1666'.

The document was in fact only a formality. The men to whom it was addressed had been apprised of their appointment some three months earlier. But with the Duke of York's signature, Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle officially took charge of the greatest battle-fleet then afloat in the world, consisting of over 150 men-of-war and some 28,000 officers, seamen, and marines. The vessels ranged from unarmed hoys with humble names like Black Dog, up to mighty three-decked floating fortresses of 70, 80, even 100 guns with names like Royal Oak that fairly thundered off the tongue.

The proprietor of this mighty force was Charles Stuart, King of Great Britain, the second of that name to occupy the throne. Thirty-five years old in 1666, the 'Merry Monarch' of the Restoration sat in amiable judgement over the sprightliest court in Europe. This most charming, lovable, and approachable of all English rulers thoroughly enjoyed his reign. His deliciously uninhibited amorous escapades need no embellishment, nor do his athletic prowess, his love of the theatre, or his enthusiastic patronage of painters, poets, composers, scientists, and architects. But beneath the affable façade was a soul scarred by an adolescence and early manhood which had known civil war, the execution of his father Charles I, and fourteen years of humiliating and penurious exile. This made him a cynical, wary, and deadly serious politician, determined never again to 'go on his travels'. He was nevertheless an able, fair-minded, and innovative administrator; he had to be innovative, for the machinery of his government ran on an exceedingly lean financial fuel which was grudgingly provided by one of the most parsimonious Parliaments ever to sit in England. Yet Charles somehow managed.

Among the multifarious interests of this remarkable ruler, none was closer to his heart than the Royal Navy. In his youth he had been irresistibly attracted to the sea, and all his life he maintained a special fascination for all things nautical. An avid yachtsman, he audaciously but appropriately named several of his pleasure boats after favourite mistresses. He understood seamanship and navigation as well as any 'tar', and was at ease with his shipwrights, knowledgeably debating the finer points of hull forms and ship-timbers. At least one observer, that grumpy chronicler Bishop Burnet, carped that Charles 'knew the architecture of ships so perfectly, that in that respect he was exact rather more than became a prince'. In fact, his encouragement of new ideas was a significant factor in the breathtaking growth and improvement of the Royal Navy that took place during the reign.

Charles also understood the uses of his navy. It was at once the country's principal line of defence, the chief instrument of foreign policy, the guarantor of commerce, the progenitor of empire, and a natural rallying point of national pride. On a more mundane level the fleet and its supporting industries – shipbuilding, timber production, ordnance manufacture – was England's largest employer and thus an important element in the nation's economic health. The navy's administration was technically the responsibility of the Duke of York as Lord High Admiral. In practice little that went on in the fleet escaped the King's notice. He constantly inspected dockyards, interviewed captains, visited ships and observed their sea-trials. He directly involved himself in operational planning and was a frequent participant in the flag-officers' councils-of-war. He also hand-picked the principal commanders; Rupert and Albemarle, for instance, were his selection and not James's; James would sooner have chosen himself.

England was then engaged in the second of three wars against the Seven Provinces of the United Netherlands, the other great sea power of the time. The struggle had opened with a smashing English success at the Battle of Lowestoft in June 1665, when the Dutch fleet had been driven from the seas in panic flight. But for the most part the spoils had eluded the victors, as every attempt to exploit the victory had come to nought for one reason or another. The enemy's merchant convoys had slipped through largely unmolested, and when the October gales had finally put an end to the campaign the battered Dutch fleet was still intact. Through the autumn there were rumours, though the details were sparse, that their arsenals were turning out men-of-war at a furious pace. The campaign of 1666 did not promise to be an easy one.

The English had already replaced two commanders-in-chief. The great victory of the previous June had been gained under the Lord High Admiral himself. But James was Charles's only heir, and the sobering casualties among other senior officers had made the King fear for his brother's life. James's replacement, the Earl of Sandwich, had performed competently, but had been put out owing to public displeasure over certain liberties which he had taken with the perquisites of his position. Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle were thus the third and fourth commanders-in-chief within a single year.

The two men had much in common. Though both had commanded at sea, neither was a seaman. They were first and foremost soldiers; indeed the most famous soldiers then alive in England.

Rupert von Simmern, Count Palatine of the Rhine, Duke of Lusatia, Duke of Cumberland, and Earl of Holderness, was a first cousin to Charles II. Born in Prague in 1619, he was the third son of Elizabeth, sister of Charles I of England, and Frederick V, the luckless dispossessed Elector Palatine and deposed 'Winter King' of Bohemia. Prince Rupert was among the most renowned soldiers of the age; a masterful heavy cavalry specialist, fearless in action, and by far the greatest Cavalier hero of the Civil War. Tall, handsome, of sinewy build, and 'always very sparkish in his dress', he had a proud and commanding presence. He was an expert horseman, a superb athlete (said by Samuel Pepys to have been one of the finest tennis players in England) and a master of all kinds of weaponry.

Rupert lived at a breathless pace, his energy seemingly inexhaustible. When not campaigning with his troopers or pacing a quarterdeck, he delighted in grandiose overseas colonial and commercial adventures. These ranged from a dubious plan to settle Madagascar, to a far-fetched scheme based on a fabled mountain of gold in West Africa. He was a founder of the Royal Africa Company, and later formed the Hudson's Bay Company to seek the Northwest Passage. Rupert was in the forefront of the avant-garde intelligentsia of Restoration England. He was a frequent participant in the proceedings of the newly founded Royal Society and was himself a draughtsman, amateur scientist, and inventor of some note. Among other interests, he was a pioneer of mezzotint engraving and a recognized expert in metallurgy, foundry techniques, and all aspects of ordnance manufacture.

Though Rupert was the great defender of the English monarchy, and by extension of the Book of Common Prayer, he was, ironically, a Calvinist. Not much need be made of that, however, for he seems to have been little bound by the strictures of any religion. He played hard, drank hard, and cursed (in a German accent) as profanely as the roughest corporal. Rupert never married and was not notoriously promiscuous, but he sired at least two illegitimate children. Like his cousin Charles, he found actresses especially attractive, and his favourite, the beautiful Margaret Hughes, was the mother of a daughter named Ruperta.

Prince Rupert was unquestionably one of the most fascinating denizens of Charles II's court. But despite his undoubted talents and achievements, many people had mixed feelings about him. This was because, in addition to being brave, dashing, and generally brilliant, Rupert also happened to be opinionated, abrasive, tactless, insensitive, and insufferably arrogant. 'A man of no government', wrote Pepys, 'and severe in council, that no ordinary man can offer any advice against his'. It perhaps hardly needs saying that such an ego regarded few men as being more than 'ordinary'; the King, the Duke of York, and possibly Albemarle would easily complete the list. The Prince seemed to take pleasure in roguish behaviour. He scandalized the court with his mockery of protocol, using the foulest barracks language even in state councils. Pepys described a meeting of the Committee for Tangier in which 'Prince Rupert do nothing but swear and laugh a little, with an oathe or two, and that's all he do'. On another occasion he was reported as 'swearing bloodily to the King'.

There were other dark sides of Prince Rupert's character, some of them not so harmless. His sense of humour was decidedly twisted, and he had shown an unmistakable streak of cruelty on his campaigns. He was a dangerous man to have as an enemy. He was quick to take offence and his skill at arms made him a formidable duellist; but when Lord Culpepper challenged him at The Hague in 1648, Rupert's only response was to compound the original insult by sending a young tough to beat up Culpepper in the street.

One of the Prince's more laudable qualities was the consistent loyalty which he showed his chosen companions. They were mostly fellow men-at-arms such as Sir Robert Holmes, Sir Edward Spragge, and Sir Frescheville Holles; and Rupert also had the confidence, though not the friendship, of the King and the Duke of York. Throughout the country the picture of the dashing cavalier was generally accepted at face value, and in 1666 Prince Rupert basked in the warmth of public esteem, the beau-ideal of thousands of Englishmen.

Rupert's fame had been gained on land, where his thundering charges had produced glowing litanies of victories. His one sea campaign had produced little to indicate that he would become a successful fleet commander. After the Stuart defeat in the Civil War, a disgruntled portion of the Parliamentary navy revolted and delivered itself over to the exiled Royalists at the Dutch port of Hellevoetsluis. Taking command of this fleet (through an unseemly slander campaign against the incumbent, Sir William Batten) the Prince sailed with seven ships in January 1649 on an adventure-filled odyssey that was not to end for four years. With him went several men who were later to achieve prominence in the Restoration navy: Thomas Allin, Robert Holmes, possibly Edward Spragge (all destined to become flag-officers) and old Sir John Mennes, who would become the charming but incompetent colleague of Samuel Pepys on the Navy Board.

Rupert's cruise, though remembered as one of the most romantic episodes of the age, was an endless nightmare for the participants. It was hard enough in those days to keep even a regular national fleet repaired and manned, and its seamen paid, fed, and clothed. A government in exile could supply nothing at all; no dockyards, no arsenals, no pool of seamen to be impressed, and above all no money. Rupert's squadron survived on what it could catch, which meant English merchantmen. When prizes were scarce there was a very real threat of mutiny from the unpaid seamen. Add to this Atlantic gales, tropical hurricanes, and vengeful Parliamentary fleets which always seemed to be just over the horizon, and it becomes astonishing that Rupert was able to remain at large. But so he did.

The Prince's squadron was hunted relentlessly by a Parliamentary fleet under the General-at-Sea Robert Blake, who chased the Royalists from Irish waters, blockaded them at Lisbon, and hounded them into the Mediterranean. With most of his ships and their prizes destroyed or captured, Rupert finally escaped to the open Atlantic. In the Azores his semi-piratical seamen mutinied, and afterwards his ship, the Constant Reformation, opened her seams in a storm and foundered with most of her crew. Rupert was plucked from the sinking vessel at the last moment in a daring rescue by a boat from one of the other ships. It might be noted that the familiar custom of the captain going down with his ship was most emphatically not a part of the chivalric code of the seventeenth-century cavalier.

In the spring of 1652 Prince Rupert, needing money in any form, visited the West African coast for a gold-seeking expedition up the Gambia River. Predictably, the Englishmen so antagonized the local populace that they were fortunate to get out alive. From there the fugitive squadron made its way to the Cape Verde Islands and thence to the West Indies. There, the last Royalist strongholds had already submitted to Parliament, and the Prince found no friendly haven. The culminating catastrophe occurred in September, when a hurricane off the Virgin Islands wrecked the ship commanded by Rupert's brother Prince Maurice, who was never seen again. Six months later the sole remaining warship, the Swallow, staggered into the French port of Paimboeuf, leaking and rotten to the last frame.

This extended, disastrous cruise was the Prince's only sea experience until 1664. Charles II nevertheless had great confidence in him, and appointed him second-in-command of the fleet at the outbreak of the Second Anglo-Dutch War. In the fight off Lowestoft, Rupert lived up to the King's expectations, fighting with conspicuous bravery. Afterwards, he went ashore in disappointment at not being named sole commander-in-chief and took no further part until Charles offered him the joint commission with Albemarle.

Ostensibly, the reason for the King's insistence on a dual command was to ensure a continuity of leadership in case one of the admirals was killed. The real reason was that a steadying hand was felt necessary to offset the rashness and impetuosity which had often marked the Prince's land campaigns. But Charles need not have worried on that score, for Rupert the admiral was never as reckless as Rupert the general. He had a deeper respect for the weather than most landsmen; the loss of Prince Maurice and his own experience in the Constant Reformation made sure of that. On the whole, Rupert was not very comfortable at sea. He found the difficulty of ship-to-ship communications especially frustrating; in land warfare, if he disliked some disposition of troops, it was easy enough to gallop over, bark a crisp order or two, and set things straight. At sea it was not so simple. 'God damn me', he said, 'I can answer for but one ship, and in that I will do my part; for it is not in that as in an army, where a man can command everything'. Furthermore, as a dilettante seafarer he was subjected to constant advice from 'Ordinary Men' – mere captains, admirals, and the like – and for Rupert of the Rhine that was hard to swallow. There were muttered complaints that 'if a sober man give his opinion otherwise than the Prince would have it the Prince would cry "Damn him, do you follow your orders, and that is enough for you"'.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "The Four Days' Battle of 1666"
by .
Copyright © 2009 Frank L. Fox.
Excerpted by permission of Pen and Sword Books Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

List of Illustrations,
Preface,
Chapter I: The Generals,
Chapter II: The Royal Navy,
Chapter III: The Ships,
Chapter IV: Guns, Flags, and the River Thames,
Chapter V: Preparations,
Chapter VI: Lowestoft,
Chapter VII: The Indian Prize,
Chapter VIII: The Other Side of the Hill,
Chapter IX: The Division of the Fleet,
Chapter X: Rupert's Expedition,
Chapter XI: The French,
Chapter XII: The Morning of the First of June,
Chapter XIII: The First Day,
Chapter XIV: The Second Day,
Chapter XV: The Third Day,
Chapter XVI: The Fourth Day,
Chapter XVII: Aftermath,
Chapter XVIII: Sequel,
Chapter XIX: Epilogue,
Appendices: A: Instructions for the Division of the Fleet,
B: The English Fleet at Lowestoft,
C: The Dutch Fleet at Lowestoft,
D: The English Fleet at Bergen,
E: Smith at Tangier, December 1665–March 1666,
F: The English Fleet in the Four Days' Battle,
G: The Dutch Fleet in the Four Days' Battle,
H: The English Fleet in the St. James's Day Fight,
I: The Dutch Fleet in the St. James's Day Fight,
J: Holmes in the Vlie,
K: The French Fleet, 1666,
L: Ordnance and Manning – English,
M: Ordnance and Manning – Dutch,
Notes,
Sources,