"Would that I could, Aubrey," he remarked sorrowfully.  "My whole time is spent in writing to Master Samuel Pepys praying for money to pay the arrears of both seamen and workmen. God knows, the poor wretches are hard put; but the money that should go for the defence of the realm finds its way into the hands of His Majesty’s favourites.  There is a new ship to be launched this month, but there is not a man belonging to her except the officers, whose work is to look about them.  Never did we require cordage and hemp more than we do now. Fifteen ships now in port are making demands for rope, and what we have in store signifies nothing.  The blockmakers and joiners have gone away, refusing to work any longer without money; the sawyers threaten to do the same. I am even now going the rounds of the yard, so if you will bear me company you can see for yourself to what straits we are put."