The fortune of war was changed in 1471 when the Portuguese took Tangier and several of the towns on the Atlantic coast, and the Moorish Sultan was forced to pay tribute to King Emanuel. Under less vigorous guidance, the Portuguese were unable to retain their ascendancy, but they kept possession of Tangier till, after nearly two centuries, it was, by a secret treaty, ceded to England as part of the dowry of Catharine of Braganza on her marriage with Charles II. When the brave Governor Dom Fernando de Menezes received the information, he entreated the Queen Regent to spare him the grief of seeing the city made over to the enemies of the Catholic faith. Her answer was the offer of a Marquisate if he obeyed, and dismissal from her service if he persisted in resisting her will. He chose the latter, threw up his command, and devoted the rest of his life to writing a history of the city. The English Court set great store by the new acquisition, believing, as the Earl of Sandwich said, that if it were walled and fortified with brass it would yet repay the cost. But English policy was then at its lowest ebb, and neither vigour nor intelligence directed any branch of our affairs. The English settlers sent out were an ill-conditioned rabble, ignorant of the country, its language and manners, and the Governor and the garrison were no better than the rest. After accomplishing one useful work by constructing a mole that converted the roadstead into a secure harbour, they were disappointed in their expectation of an extensive trade with the interior, and, what was more galling, were worsted in every encounter with the Moors, till, in 1685, the Government in London decided to abandon Tangier. When this became known at Lisbon, the Portuguese strongly urged the impolicy of abandoning such a position to pirates, and requested that it should be restored to them on condition that the English should have free use of the port. With characteristic meanness and imbecility the Duke of York—soon afterwards James II.—opposed the gift, and urged that the honour of England required that the place should be dismantled, and be left for occupation to whoever could hold it. His advice prevailed; and, on the retirement of the English force, the mole was effectually blown up, destroying the only good harbour for shipping on the seaboard of Marocco—a distance of fully nine hundred miles.