The escape of the enemy was assisted by a mysterious incident in the English flagship. Night fell while the Dutch were still struggling to escape with the English in pursuit. The duke led his fleet in the =Royal Charles= of eighty guns, and the orders were that the other ships were to follow his light. The battle had cost us less than a thousand men in killed and wounded, but it had been extraordinarily fatal to men of high position, and to those immediately around the duke. Admiral Sansum had been killed. Sir John Lawson was disabled by a musket-shot which shattered the bone of his leg above the knee, inflicting a mortal wound. The Earl of Marlborough, who had been sent out to take possession of Bombay for the king, had also fallen, so had the Earl of Portland. In the flagship the Earl of Falmouth, Lord Muskerry, and Mr. Boyle, gentlemen serving with the duke, were all killed together, by a chain-shot, close to his side. He was drenched in their blood, and wounded in the hand by a fragment of Mr. Boyle's skull. The courage of the Duke of York has been praised even by his enemies, and, although Swift recorded the cruel sneer that he made a cowardly popish king, we are not entitled to doubt his bravery. Yet, the horror of such a scene as this, coming on the top of the fatigues of the battle and the anxiety of the preceding weeks, may pardonably have been something too much for a man who was not hardened by experience to scenes of blood and conflict. It is certain that he left the deck on the persuasion of the officers of his household. It is no less certain that, shortly afterwards, one of his gentlemen, Brouncker by name, came up from the cabin to John Harman, captain of the flagship, who remained on the quarter-deck, with the order to shorten sail. After more or less hesitation, Harman obeyed. Sail was shortened in the flagship, and, as the other vessels were strictly ordered not to pass the admiral's light, the English fleet fell behind, and the Dutch escaped into the Texel. The truth of this incident was afterwards wrapped up in a cloud of contradictions, and of what we are justified in asserting must in part have been lies. The duke denied that he gave Brouncker the order, and finally dismissed him from his service. Brouncker, who was of infamous character, was capable of misusing the duke's name, but it is strange that if he did he was not sooner punished. The explanation that he was valuable to his master for services it is not well to record, is as nearly discreditable to the duke's character as want of firmness could have been in the reaction natural after such a terrible experience. The truth about the Duke of York is perhaps that his courage was of the kind defined by Marryat as negative. He had the nerve to face a foreseen danger when it came in his way, but not that "springing valour" which can attack and adventure.