[Sidenote a:  A.D. 1651.  Sept. 25.] [Sidenote a:  A.D. 1651.  Oct. 8.]

of the widow Hyde, near Salisbury, he found a more secure retreat in a hiding-place for five days, during which Colonel Gunter, through the agency of Mansel, a loyal merchant, engaged[a] a collier, lying at New Shoreham.  Charles hastened[b] through Hambleton to Brighton, where he sat down to supper with Philips, Gunter, Mansel, and Tattershall the master of the vessel.  At table, Tattershall kept his eyes fixed on the king; after supper, he called Mansel aside and complained of fraud.  The person in grey was the king; he knew him well, having been detained by him in the river, when, as prince of Wales, he commanded the royal fleet in 1648.  This information was speedily communicated to Charles, who took no notice of it to Tattershall; but, to make sure of his man, contrived to keep the party drinking and smoking round the table during the rest of the night.

Before his departure, while he was standing alone in a room, the landlord entered, and, going behind him, kissed his hand, which rested on the back of a chair, saying at the same time, “I have no doubt that, if I live, I shall be a lord, and my wife a lady.”  Charles laughed, to show that he understood his meaning, and joined the company in the other apartment.  At four in the morning they all proceeded[c] to Shoreham; on the beach his other attendants took their leave, Wilmot accompanied him into the bark.  There Tattershall, falling on his knee, solemnly assured him, that whatever might be the consequence, he would put him safely on the coast of France.  The ship floated with the tide, and stood with easy sail towards the Isle of Wight, as if she were on her way to Deal, to which port she was bound.  But at five in the afternoon, Charles, as he had previously concerted with Tattershall,

[Sidenote a:  A.D. 1651.  Oct. 14.] [Sidenote b:  A.D. 1651.  Oct. 15.] [Sidenote c:  A.D. 1651.  Oct. 16.]

addressed the crew.  He told them that he and his companion were merchants in distress, flying from their creditors; desired them to join him in requesting the master to run for the French coast; and, as a further argument, gave them twenty shillings to drink.  Tattershall made many objections; but, at last, with apparent reluctance, took the helm, and steered across the Channel.  At daybreak[a] they saw before them the small town of Fecamp, at the distance of two miles; but the tide ebbing, they cast anchor, and soon afterwards descried to leeward a suspicious sail, which, by her manner of working, the king feared, and the master believed, to be a privateer from Ostend.  She afterwards proved to be a French hoy; but Charles waited not to ascertain the fact; the boat was instantly lowered, and the two adventurers were rowed safely into the harbour.[1]

The king’s deliverance was a subject of joy to the nations of Europe, among whom the horror excited by the death of the father had given popularity to the exertions of the son.  In his expedition into England they had followed him with wishes for his success;