To the navy, then, men turned their eyes, while they girded themselves up for the mighty death-struggle in which they must engage. But after all it was a forlorn hope, for the enormous coast-line that had to be guarded and the few ships there were for the purpose rendered it highly improbable that the French strength could be broken.
Even at the commencement of this awful period the suffering was appalling. Meat had reached a fabulous price, and bread was two shillings the four-pound loaf. The distress and suffering amongst the poor were heartrending, and thousands died daily; while, to add to the horrors, the weather was bitterly cold, and snow and rain fell incessantly.
Truly it was a dark day for England. The proud country whose flags had waved on every sea, and on whose possessions the sun was said never to set, was now in the hands of a ruthless and revengeful enemy. Britons, whose freedom had been a watchword for centuries, and whose boast that they never would be slaves had rung through the world, were now struggling to be allowed to live; and it seemed probable that crushed, broken, and bleeding they would yet have to acknowledge the conqueror's galling yoke. No wonder that in this evil hour anathemas were uttered against the sham patriots and the place-seeking demagogues who, by their false policy and their clap-trap sentiments, had brought about the decay of England's might. No wonder that the furious populace reviled and battered into the dust every monument that sought to perpetuate the memory of these men. But reviling and fury were useless. The men were beyond the reach of either, though their unhappy country that they had betrayed was bleeding at every pore, and her great heart would be torn out by her bloodthirsty enemy. But their names would be remembered through all time, and sucking babes would be taught to curse them.
