The Patriot (23 page)

It was on the third day out before the leading ships passed into the Channel proper, between Dover and Calais and into very slightly more protected waters. There was no sign of the English fleet - no doubt this easterly storm would keep it bottled up in the Thames. By dark they were as far west as the Isle of Wight. That night a cou
ncil was held in the large low-
decked poop-cabin of the flagship, all the leadership crowding in. Andrew did not feel himself to be in that category, but William sent for Burnet, Home and himself.

Decision now had to be taken. Where to land, and when. Whether couriers should be put ashore, if possible, to send warning to certain powerful supporters, the Earl of Bath in especial, who was now governing the West Country and a hidden adherent. And so on. There was much debate. It was agreed that the landings should be in the West, not only in that the hatred of James was strongest there, the more so since Judge Jeffreys' savageries, but because it would take longer for the King's mainly Irish army to reach them from Hounslow and so give time for Protestant supporters to rally and, very important, for a sufficiency of horses to be commandeered adequately to mount the invasion force. In this discussion Andrew's first-hand experience in Monmouth's problems and mistakes were invaluable. William declared that he would like the actual landing to be the next day, 4th November. As it happened, this was both that Prince's birthday and his wedding anniversary. A strict Calvinist, he did not believe that it might bring him luck; but he did think that the fact might encourage his troops. The exiles there, however, pointed out that the following day, 5th November, meant a great deal to the English people, whom it was even more important to encourage to rise in action. This was the anniversary of that other Protestant deliverance, of James the First and Sixth from the Catholic Gunpowder Plot of Guido Fawkes of eighty-three years ago, and it was still celebrated throughout the land. What date could be more apt?

That was accepted, and Torbay was decided upon as the best place for the main landing. It had to be as sheltered as possible from the east wind and yet large and open enough to accommodate the whole fleet and, at the same time, not guarded by forts and, especially, with a beach available where the horses could be disembarked. Torbay, tucked in behind Hope's Nose, had all these attributes. Some advised Plymouth, some thirty miles further west, where Lord Bath was based. But that of course was a fortified port with a garrison, and Bath's predilections might not be shared by his whole command.

Better the main landing at Torbay, with perhaps secondary assaults at Dartmouth and Brixham, round Berry Head.

Such planning was all very well, but carrying it out in present conditions was less easy. All next day they tacked about in the Channel, fretting, those who were not sea-sick impatient, cursing the delay, conditions and the weather, even the competence of the high command. Shipmasters were at their wits' end to hold a fleet of almost five hundred assorted craft approximately together. At night this proved to be quite impossible and dawn of the 5th November found most of the ships far to the west, indeed almost off Plymouth. There was despair in many quarters, even Gilbert Burnet declaring that it seemed predestined that they should never set foot on English soil - but praying heartily nevertheless.

Whether as a consequence or not, however, the wind changed into south-by-west in mid-morning, to shouts of thanksgiving. And in some four hours, with this behind them, the bulk of the fleet was again approaching Torbay.

The new wind, to be sure, blew straight into that wide bay, with Hope's Nose now offering no protection; but Berry Head at the southern end served as an alternative breakwater and the landing was fixed for Brixham on its north side.

So at last the anchor-chains rattled down all round that horn of the bay between Brixham and Goodrington, William and his entourage stepping on to English ground at Brixham harbour itself.

"So, Dr. Burnet?" he asked, almost jovial for that grave man. "What do you think of the doctrine of predestination now?"

"I think only of the providence of God, sir- and thank Him, as ought we all."

"Well said, my friend. Let all heed it. But now - to work."

It was only twenty miles to Exeter, where William planned to base himself meantime, but it took them three days to get there. Not because they had to fight their way; no opposition showed itself. But the landing of so many men, and especially of horses and artillery, in stormy weather, even on comparatively sheltered beaches, was a protracted business indeed. And in fact the

151 weather deteriorated once again, the wind swinging back into the west and strengthening, which did not help - although they learned afterwards that it had almost certainly aided them greatly, for the English fleet had won out of the Thames and into the Channel, in strength, and could have disrupted the landings. Instead, this new gale from the south-west drove it to take cover, and it got no nearer Torbay than the sheltered waters of Portsmouth.

During this waiting period William looked for the Earl of Bath to declare openly for him and to give a useful lead to all the South-West. But although other locally-based notables, such as the Earl of Abington and the Lords Colchester and Wharton came forward, there was no word from the Governor at Plymouth. They were thankful, therefore, that they had not relied on the man and made their landing at Plymouth as some had advocated.

This reticence had its effect elsewhere in official quarters, not unnaturally. Although common folk hailed the Prince of Orange as a Protestant saviour, their betters held back. When the invaders reached Exeter at length, it was to find the Bishop and Dean fled, the magistrates nowhere to be seen and even the lesser clergy and merchants wary. Saviours they might be, but their co-religionists had had all too vivid experience of King James's and his Lord Chancellor's behaviour towards rebels, so perhaps they were not to be blamed too hardly.

The period of waiting was not wasted. This time it was not a case of roughly training unarmed countrymen but of marshalling and disposing to best advantage an already trained army, some half of it veteran troops. Volunteers who did come in were welcomed and formed into units of a sort, to be sure; but these were used mostly to send, in parties, around the countryside to spread confidence in the venture and encourage others. Andrew Fletcher, like many another of the Prince's staff, took a group of these each day to collect the so necessary extra horses, of which literally thousands were required. William did not have the time for ordinary dealing and buying. The animals had to be commandeered, but he insisted that all should be paid for, even though at modest price. It was not a pleasant duty, but this was war, and it was better than bloodshed.

After a week of this they had sure word that James had arrived at Salisbury with his army. The trial of strength appeared to be at hand.

Two days later informants reported a large cavalry force under Lord Cornbury only some twenty miles away, in the Crewkerne area. Preparations were in hand to counter this move when another report, from what was considered to be a reliable source, brought the astonishing information that this Cornbury and a Colonel Langston were actually intending to change sides, and to bring over this entire cavalry command to the Prince.

This was the sort of stirring news the invaders required and longed for. William at once detached two regiments of horse, mainly English, to go forward to investigate and welcome the new adherents if the thing proved to be true. Andrew went along.

If he, for one, required any further demonstration of the follies, mistakes and sheer nonsense of much of war, he obtained it now. They got as far as the open valley of the Otter when, across the undulating country they perceived the ostensible enemy appearing out of woodland a couple of miles away. Spurring on to meet them, but prepared to change into battle formation at short notice, they observed first that Cornbury's force had halted in a long straggling line, presumably at sight of themselves; then, after an interval, that the force appeared to be breaking up in confusion. While they were still a mile apart, the bulk of the King's cavalry began to wheel around and dash off, back into the woods. Only its left wing, about a regiment strong, remained in position, waiting. Four times that number had bolted.

Mystified, the Prince's horse rode on, although very much on the look-out for trickery. But as they neared the stationary royal troops, an officer came out to meet them. Saluting, he shouted that he represented Colonel Langston, who craved permission to bring over his regiment into His Royal Highness Prince William's command.

So, amidst relief on both sides, cheers and back-slapping, they came together, in the process perhaps another hundred or so coming back out of the
woodland from the bolted regi
merits. It seemed that someone had started a rumour that they were being betrayed, that once they had yielded to the Prince of Orange, they would all be massacred by the heathen Dutchmen; and Lord Cornbury had fallen into a panic and ordered a hasty retiral. Langston had kept his head, fortunately.

If all this bemused such as Andrew Fletcher, at least it gave them the impression of poor quality troops and leadership on James's side.

In the days that followed, of a miserable wet and windy November, that impression was powerfully reinforced as more and more of the royal forces transferred themselves from Salisbury and Portsmouth to Exeter and the forward base William established at Axminster, in groups and companies and whole regiments, until it appeared as though James was left only with the hard core of his Irish Catholic troops. Ships, too, arrived in Torbay - although the royal fleet as such stayed where it was. It was an extraordinary situation that developed, in fact, a curious war of marking time, as with an hour-glass in which the sand dribbled steadily from one end to the other, which meant the winning and the losing, without a blow struck. No further forays were risked by the King; and the Prince was wisely content to wait.

Crisis-point was reached after two weeks of this. News kept coming in of notables and whole cities all over the country declaring for William, York and Newcastle amongst the first. London was said to be seething. The Earls of Devonshire and Danby had each mustered a sizeable force for the Prince and were marching south. Then the Duke of Grafton and the Lord Churchill arrived at Axminster from the royal camp, to kiss William's hand; Grafton was an illegitimate son of Charles the Second and Churchill was James's chief military adviser. And then the final blow - the Princess Anne, the King's second daughter, with Lady Churchill, fled from Whitehall north to Northampton, where she declared herself Protestant and denounced her father.

That was enough for James Stewart. He promptly sent an envoy to William proposing a conference to discuss terms, suggesting possibly that h
is son-in-law might act Regent,
himself retaining only the title of King. He also sent to London for his wife and the infant prince to join him.

William agreed to meet him, making suggested terms which, as was later reported, James declared were better than he would have expected. Nevertheless, that strange man, having sent off his Queen and baby son in a frigate to France, seemed entirely to lose his head. For, instead of setting out to meet his son-in-law, he secretly deserted the rump of his army and fleet, hurrying off at three in the morning with one Sir Edward Hales, in d
isguise as his servant. Apparentl
y not trusting any of his ships' captains, he boarded a small fishing-boat which Hales had hired, to make the hazardous crossing of the Channel, throwing the Great Seal of the United Kingdom into the river en route. However, they had not got far from the shore when local fishermen, who, imagining them to be escaping Catholic priests such as were now in flight all over England, apprehended them and, despite all protests, carried him back to their own part of the town. Here the King was recognised. Better that he should not have been perhaps, for crowds gathered to abuse and threaten him. Had not Sir Basil Dixwell been brought to his rescue, that might have been the end of James Stewart. Dixwell, however, continued to hold him secret captive.

Meanwhile the word spread that the King had abandoned his supporters and left the country. Now the flocking to William became a flood. Church-bells rang throughout the land as they had not done since Charles the Second's restoration. The Prince decided to move towards London.

But advisedly he and his entourage took their time. Not only was the country in a state of turmoil, but in these southern parts chaos developed. This was because James's last command to his general, the Earl of Feversham, was to disband the army forthwith. And it transpired that there was no money to pay the troops. So a horde of angry and resentful Irish were let loose, leaderless, and went rampaging, looting and raping far and wide. This produced inevitable reaction, with mobs gathering to protect and retaliate - and to attack all foreigners as precaution. Any soldiers were suspect and Dutchmen tended to be taken for Irishmen. Such fighting and casualties as this strange campaign produced occurred now.

William reached the town and castle of Windsor, on the Thames, before the news reached him as to his father-in-law's true position, that he was not fled to France after all but was held prisoner in the house of one Dixwell outside Portsmouth. Astonished, and against the advice of certain of his counsellers, the Prince thereupon sent one of his aides, Zuylestein, back south-westwards, to order the King's immediate release, with permission to go where he pleased, so long as it was not to London.