Plaidy, Jean - Royal Sisters - The Story of the Daughters of James II

The Battle of Bantry Bay had been a defeat; Torrington wanted at all costs to avoid another—and here were the French … waiting for the moment to open the battle.

“And here are we,” cried Torrington, “unprepared. I will not go into battle against them.”

But even as he made this declaration he received a note from the Queen, reminding him that he had a Dutch squadron at his disposal under Admiral Evertzen, and commanding him to go into action without delay.

Torrington disobeyed the order, because he believed to act on it would mean crushing defeat.

Around the Council table Mary presided. She felt ill yet stimulated at the thought of danger; she was facing a great crisis and William was not near to advise. She must succeed.

Nottingham was saying that Torrington had deliberately ignored orders, and that the French were still off the south coast though the battle had not yet begun. Torrington had done nothing, in spite of orders.

“This is mutinous,” cried Mordaunt.

“He should be court-martialed,” growled Danby.

“At this stage,” Mary intervened, “we should only be adding to our danger by a court-martial in such a high quarter. How do we know what effect this might have!”

Marlborough supported her in this.

“I will go to Portsmouth,” suggested Mordaunt. “There I will board the flagship, arrest Torrington and myself lead the fleet.”

Mary looked at him with a hint of scorn. How like Mordaunt to plan an action with himself as the hero set for glory!

“Impossible,” she said coldly.

Nottingham put in: “Before he left, the King commanded me to take command if Torrington should prove unfit.”

Mordaunt glared at Nottingham.

“My lord, would that be wise?”

“And why should you believe that you could lead the fleet to victory and I fail?”

Heaven help me, thought Mary, they are vying with each other for power. What good will this do us? We must all stand together.

“The King gave me no instructions that you should leave for the fleet, my lord,” she told Nottingham. “And I could not allow it. You are needed too badly here.”

Nottingham was mollified and graciously thanked Her Majesty for her compliments.

“Who then should go?” asked Danby sharply; and she saw the gleam in his eyes. Is he too looking for naval glory, wondered Mary, at his time of life?

“I need you all here,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I shall send a dispatch to Lord Torrington immediately telling him that I order him to attack.”

She was exhausted . If only William were here! It was not that she feared herself inadequate to deal with the situation, only that William might disapprove of what she had done. How could she know what he would do in similar circumstances?

Her women were helping her to bed and she was silent, which was unusual for her. Usually she liked to chat for, to her, talking was one of the pleasures of life and since she was never able to indulge in it to any great extent with William she did so whenever possible with everyone else.

“Your Majesty’s face is slightly less swollen,” said the Countess of Derby.

“Do you think so? I fancy it is less painful.”

Then silence. They were thinking of the change in her, for they had been hoping that once William was away there would be a little gaiety at Court. Dances perhaps, visits to the play; perhaps little jaunts to some of the houses in the bazaars.

But this was quite different. William’s absence had made of Mary a Queen with solemn duties.

Even at such an hour there was no respite. A messenger was at the door now with an urgent letter for the Queen.

Mary seized it and began to tremble as she read that the French were occupying the coast of the Isle of Wight.

The Council meeting was stormy.

What had Torrington done? Nothing! He ignored the Council in London, replying that his council upon the spot did not advise action as yet.

Devonshire was demanding action. “Does Torrington realize that the fate of three kingdoms is in his hands? Torrington must be replaced.”

“Make him a prisoner,” cried Russell.

“No, no,” interjected Marlborough. “That would please the enemy too much and put heart into them.”

Mordaunt said: “Let me go to him. I will engage the Frenchmen and drive them off … or die in the attempt.”

That someone should go was finally agreed by the Council and Mordaunt and Russell left.

In the privacy of her own apartment Mary awaited news with trepidation, feeling that disaster was very close indeed. She was unsure, and could only pray that the actions she took were the right ones.

She did not trust Mordaunt and wondered what he would do when he reached Torrington. Russell was the most outspoken of the ministers; he was coarse and crude but she believed trustworthy; and trustworthiness was a very desirable quality at such a time.

She could only find comfort in writing to William to tell him that she faced dire trouble at home as doubtless he did in Ireland. But she was far more anxious, she would have him know, for his dear person than for her own poor carcass.

“I can say nothing, but pray to God for you, and my impatience for a letter from you is as great as my love, which will not end but with my life.”

Before Mordaunt and Russell set out Mary had sent an order to Torrington to engage the enemy; and this he did, in his own way, before it was possible for the two ministers to reach him.

He attacked; or at least commanded the Dutch to do so, and this they did valiantly, but were so outnumbered that they could not hope for success. Many ships were disabled and Torrington’s contribution was to leave the Dutch to the enemy while he towed the damaged ships to the Thames mouth in order to blockade it.

There was utter defeat. The navy—Britain’s pride—had let her down shamefully; and England lay at the mercy of the invader. The French were at her coast. Torrington was locked up with the fleet in the estuary of the Thames; and while the King was in Ireland the Jacobites, who may well have been waiting for this opportunity, could now rise—and who knew who would support them?—and bring back James.

Marlborough, thank God, was at hand. He could, better than any man, protect his country should an invasion be attempted—if he would. But what of Marlborough, who could, Mary was sure, jump this way and that with agility? It would depend of course on which attitude would best serve Marlborough.

She felt that she had reached the very depth of despair, but two events, following closely on one another, brought fresh hope; and she believed them to be an answer to her prayer.

She was in her apartments writing a letter to William—for her only solace was in writing to him—when the Countess of Derby came to tell her that the Earl of Shrewsbury was asking to see her.

As Charles Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury came into the room, Mary’s spirits lifted. He would have been extremely handsome—perhaps the handsomest man at Court, now Monmouth was gone—but for a blemish in one eye. Even so, he had been called “The King of Hearts”; it was said that women loved him on sight, but he had never taken advantage of that, being gentle and retiring. He would be faithful, Mary was sure, to a woman … or a cause.