The shot was replied to by the nearest Frenchman, and for the space of a quarter of an hour a spirited pitched battle occurred between the various ships of the squadron, friend firing into friend in the confusion and excitement. Though several shots pitched close to us, we escaped without further injury, and ere the echoes of the last report had died away we were far behind the now invisible fleet. The anxiety of the master on account of the fog had vanished utterly on meeting with the Frenchmen, and with spirited promptness he set the crew to clear away the wreckage and parbuckle the broken mast. "My men," he cried, "that fleet is none other than the forty sail of the Duke of Beaufort, who seeks to effect a junction with the Dutch! Yo ho! Straight for the nearest land we’ll make now. Whether we beach the shallop on an exposed coast or bring her into port I care not, but land we must, and bear tidings hot-foot to His Grace the Duke of Albemarle." So saying, he turned the shallop’s head due north, and as daylight dawned the mist dispersed, and we found ourselves a few miles from the Kentish coast, with Rye plainly visible. An hour later and the shallop was making her way cautiously into the sand-encumbered harbour, and, the moment we landed, the officers, myself included, obtained horses and set out for Chatham, leaving the men to follow afoot as best they might. Meanwhile the news that the Duke of Beaufort’s squadron was really in the Channel had spread abroad, causing the timid inhabitants of Rye to make preparations for a hurried exodus, while the trainbands were called out by beat of drum, and had assembled in the marketplace. Our journey to Chatham was performed without incident, though the heavy rains had made the roads a perfect quagmire in many places. Tenterden we reached in an hour, and two hours later we were clattering through the streets of Maidstone. At four in the afternoon five weatherworn and mud-bespattered travellers arrived at Chatham, where a rowboat took us to Albemarle’s flagship, which lay at anchor in Gillingham Reach. Honest George, as the seamen still loved to call the gallant duke, was now getting on in years and weighed down by physical infirmity, yet in time of danger his energy and fearless determination would have put to shame many a younger man. If he had had but a free hand, I warrant the disgrace of the Dutch in the Medway would never have occurred; but the baneful influence of the court beauties drove His Majesty almost to poverty, so that when retrenchment had to come it was the fleet that suffered. The admiral received us kindly, and on receipt of our news ordered a signal to be flown recalling all officers and men belonging to the fleet who were on shore, and ere sunset the English squadron was making its way towards the Nore to chase and destroy the Hollanders’ ally.