fact was, that mild, modest way of Blake's
quite deceived his majesty, who thought he
could tickle the lion's nose as he pleased—he
looked so good-natured. Blake attacked
another of the Brazil fleets at the river's
mouth; sunk the admiral's ship like a stone;
captured the vice-admiral, and eleven vessels
laden with cargoes of great value. At last,
Rupert came out with the fleet, and got
away; the king glad enough to get rid of so
dangerous a guest.

Rupert seems now to have become a corsair
by profession, and to have pursued it, to do
him justice, like a Byronic hero. His first
wish was to make the Scilly Islands his
"pirate's isle," where he could have plenty of
supplies to return to after each cruise. The
obstinate Puritanism of the Council of State
made them oppose this project. Rupert was
chased to the Mediterranean; and, finally, the
home branch of his business being knocked
on the head, fled to the West Indies with his
brother. Blake having achieved this, also
subdued the "pirate's isle," and was now
ready for the next achievement ready for
him—the DUTCH WAR.

We come now to the war with the fleets of
that great people, the fleets which figure
on the canvas of Vaudevelde. The Dutch
were great sailors, with a splendid commerce;
whose recent history had been all triumph;
every acre of whose land was a victory.
They had admirals, such as Van Tromp
and De Ruyter, of a fame that spread
wherever there was a sea-breeze. In truth,
the Republic, fat with immeasurable
commerce, was beginning to "kick." They did
not like the notion of our sovereignty of
the narrow seas; still less our Navigation
Act. They declined to strike to our flag;
and Van Tromp took the Channel with a
fleet of forty-two sail. That fleet showed in
the Downs. Blake stood to sea too, and there,
like two lightning-charged clouds, the fleets
streamed over the blue water together.
Blake's eye lights on the Dutch flag. No
dip! The halyards remain still. Then, there
is a flash, and a wreath of smoke, and a booming
sound, for Blake calls attention to the
necessity of dipping the colours. Still no
such politeness! And at last Van Tromp
"wears,"—as they call it at sea—swims
round to leeward. He approaches the
English squadron with a steady onward pace.
The English "lay-to," backing the main-top
sails in the orthodox way; and now the
thunder-clouds are coming together. Blake
was standing out from his squadron to
hail the Dutch admiral, when there is a
thunder and a crash. His own cabin windows
shatter beside him. He twirls his whiskers
ominously, with a bitter saying about Tromp;
and now the thunder-clouds have met!
Broadsides began to roar about four o'clock;
shot plashed into the hulls; through the
smoke, as it clears away, you see the torn
rigging dangling about, and the masts shattered
and raw. The action was a very sharp one;
Van Tromp had the advantage in numbers;
but the squadrons parted after a drawn battle.
Blake anchored that night off the Ness, with
his vessel, the James, much cut up; but next
morning the Channel was clear.

There was some diplomatic shilly-shallying
even after this, but with no success. Blake
was lord in the Channel; his cruisers darting
from the squadron brought in prizes daily.
Both nations made gigantic struggles for the
campaign; and there were splendid pickings
for privateers. Blake sailed northwards to
catch the Dutch horde of herring-ships. While
he was on this mission, Van Tromp put to
sea from the Texel, and hovering over the
coast of England spread great anxiety there.
Blake returned, and the squadrons met; but
a gale of the most terrible character blew
friends and enemies away from each other.
The Dutch suffered more than Blak; and
Van Tromp soon after retired into private
life in disgust. Soon afterwards De Witt
joined De Ruyter. About this time Blake
made a dexterous backhanded blow at a
French fleet under the Duke of Vendome,
and brought them into Dover Roads. This
was a uoteable instance of his terrible promptness;
for it was an evolution only justified to
the authorities by supreme success; but
seen into by Blake, decided on, and done, at
once.

He was now off again after De Witt and
De Ruyter, and came up with them off the
North Foreland, on the 28th September;
both squadrons had a terrible dose of shot,
for they were at close quarters. In the very
outset two of the Dutchmen went down; and
the Dutch were defeated with severe loss ot
life. As may be supposed, Blake was now of
the highest naval reputation, had made his
laurels look brighter and fresher than ever,
from the salt water. The Dutch found it
necessary to call out Van Tromp again, and
put him>at the head of their fleet.

The two great admirals began the war over
again on a cold and stormy night, and Blake,
in the Triumph, with a small fleet, got a
check; the matter was a suspicious one, for
Blake was obliged to complain of misconduct
among some of his officers, and he even desires
a "discharge from this employment," as " far
too great for me.   .   .   . so that I may spend
the remainder of my days in private retire-
ment, and in prayers to tiie Lord for blessings
on you and on this nation." As, indeed—he
had led a life of storm and fire by sea and
land, and was not in good health, and
inwardly had his solemn sorrows, and wished
for a time of prayer, other than in his black
old ships on the high sea! The Council of
State paid extreme attention to his suggestions
(of course excepting his request for retirement),
and disciplinary movements were
carried on, according to his judgment.

Meanwhile, Van Tromp had been
performing that curious exploit of sailing down