: The Boy who sailed with Blake by Kingston William Henry Giles - Christian life Juvenile fiction; Adventure and adventurers Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels Juvenile fiction; Sailors Juvenile fiction; Blake Robert 1599-1657 Juvenile fiction; Great Brit

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The Boy who sailed with Blake, by W.H.G. Kingston.

Another vintage Kingston book, this time with a background of the 1650s, when Cromwell and the Roundheads were in power.

Blake, Robert English naval commander, the son of a merchant. Educated at Wadham College, Oxford, he continued his father's business and led the life of a quiet country gentleman until he was 40. Returned for Bridgwater in 1640 to the short Parliament, he cast in his lot with the Parliamentarians. In the Civil War he took part in the defence of Bristol and Lyme Regis , and his defence of Taunton against overwhelming odds proved a turning point in the war. Appointed Admiral in 1649, he destroyed Prince Rupert's fleet and captured the Scilly Isles and Jersey. In the first Dutch War he defeated Tromp at the battle of Portland and shattered Dutch supremacy at sea. He destroyed the Barbary Coast pirate fleet off Tunis and in 1657 destroyed a Spanish treasure fleet at Santa Cruz off Teneriffe. He died as his ship entered Plymouth, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, but his body was removed at the Restoration. He is considered one of the greatest of English admirals, second only to Nelson.

That was the background to this story. The only thing that upset your transcriber is that he is by nature on the side of the Cavaliers and the Monarchy, rather than that of the Roundheads.

THE BOY WHO SAILED WITH BLAKE, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.

The following story is not one of reckless adventure, nor one in which fighting and bloodshed are introduced to fan a spurious spirit of heroism. It is the reproduction of a page of history, and a most important one, when good men held not their lives dear to uphold and defend that which was dearer than life--civil and religious liberty.

The example of Blake is held up to the boys of to-day, not because he fought and conquered, but because he was a conscientious, God-fearing man, and his conscience told him that the best interests of his country demanded resistance to the Stuart rule. Such a man as Blake was a hero everywhere, and needed not a quarter-deck to display his heroism.

"Hark! the bells of Saint Michael's are sending forth a jovial peal!" exclaimed Lancelot Kerridge, as he, Dick Harvey, and I were one day on board his boat fishing for mackerel, about two miles off the sea-port town of Lyme. "What they are saying I should mightily like to know, for depend on't it's something of importance. Haul in the lines, Ben!" he continued, addressing me; "and, Dick, put an oar out to windward. I'll take the helm. We shall fetch the Cob by keeping our luff."

The wind was off shore, but as we were to the westward of the Cob, and the tide was making in the same direction, we could easily fetch it. The water was smooth, the sea blue and bright as the eyes of sweet Cicely Kerridge, my friend Lancelot's young sister, while scarcely a cloud dimmed the clear sky overhead.

Lyme, then containing but one thousand inhabitants, where my two companions and I lived, is situated in Dorsetshire, near its western border, on the northern shore of a wide bay, formed by the Bill of Portland on the east and the Start Point on the west. Along the coast are several other towns, of which Dartmouth, owing to its excellent harbour, is the most considerable, besides numerous villages, including Charmouth and Uplyme. A line of cliffs of no great height extends away on either side of Lyme, which stands at the bottom of a valley; while beyond it rise the green slopes of Colway and Uplyme, hills overlooking the town.

On the eastern side was the house of my father, Captain Roger Bracewell. He had commanded several of the trading ships of Master Humphrey Blake, of Bridgwater, at one time a merchant of renown, and the father of Captain Robert Blake, who had already made his name famous for his gallant defence of Prior's Hill when Bristol was besieged by Prince Rupert, until it was yielded in a dastardly fashion by Governor Fiennes. My father retiring from the sea with a competency, having married late in life, settled in Lyme, his native place. His house, which overlooked the bay, was of the better sort, with curious gables, and a balcony supported on strong wooden pillars in front, where he was wont to sit, smoking his pipe, and enjoying a view of the ocean he still loved full well, with the ships--their white canvas spread to the breeze--sailing by in the distance, or approaching to take shelter in our roadstead.

There were a few other residences of the same character; but most of the houses were built of soft stone, with thatched roofs, forming four irregular narrow streets, with several narrower lanes of no very dignified character. Still, we were fond of our little town, and had reasons to be proud of it from the events I am about to describe.

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