"And oh, the little warlike world within!
The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy,
The hoarse command, the busy humming din.
When at a word, the tops are manned on high:
Hark to the boatswain's call, the cheering cry!
While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides,
Or school-boy midshipman, that, standing by,
Strains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,
And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides."
BYRON.
"Are you quite sure, Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, that there is not some
mistake about the approach of the rear division of the French?" inquired
the vice-admiral, endeavouring to catch some glimpse of the water,
through the smoke on the larboard hand. "May not some crippled ship of
our own have sheered from the line, and been left by us, unknowingly, on
that side?"
"No, Sir Gervaise, there is _no_ mistake; there _can_ be none, unless I
may have been deceived a little in the distance. I saw nothing but the
sails and spars, not of a single vessel, but of _three_ ships; and one
of them wore the flag of a French rear-admiral at the mizzen. As a proof
that I was not mistaken, sir, there it is this minute!"
The smoke on the off side of the Plantagenet, as a matter of course, was
much less dense than that on the side engaged, and the wind beginning to
blow in eddies, as ever happens in a heavy cannonade, there were moments
in which it cast aside the "shroud of battle." At that instant an
opening occurred through which a single mast, and a single sail were
visible, in the precise spot where Wycherly had stated the enemy might
be looked for. It was a mizzen-top-sail, beyond a question, and above it
was fluttering the little square flag of the rear-admiral. Sir Gervaise
decided on the character of the vessel, and on his own course, in an
instant. Stepping to the edge of the poop, with his natural voice,
without the aid of a trumpet of any sort, he called out in tones that
rose above the roar of the contest, the ominous but familiar nautical
words of "stand by!" Perhaps a call from powerful lungs (and the
vice-admiral's voice, when he chose to use it, was like the blast of a
clarion) is clearer and more impressive, when unaided by instruments,
than when it comes disguised and unnatural through a tube. At any rate,
these words were heard even on the lower deck, by those who stood near
the hatches. Taking them up, they were repeated by a dozen voices, with
such expressions as "Look out, lads; Sir Jarvy's awake!" "Sight your
guns!" "Wait till she's square!" and other similar admonitions that it
is usual for the sea-officer to give, as he is about to commence the
strife. At this critical moment, Sir Gervaise again looked up, and
caught another glimpse of the little flag, as it passed into a vast
wreath of smoke; he saw that the ship was fairly abeam, and, as if
doubling all his powers, he shouted the word "fire!" Greenly was
standing on the lower-deck ladder, with his head just even with the
coamings of the hatch, as this order reached him, and he repeated it in
a voice scarcely less startling. The cloud on the larboard side was
driven in all directions, like dust scattered by wind. The ship seemed
on fire, and the missiles of forty-one guns flew on their deadly errand,
as it might be at a single flash. The old Plantagenet trembled to her
keel, and even bowed a little at the recoils, but, like one suddenly
relieved from a burthen, righted and went on her way none the less
active. That timely broadside saved the English commander-in-chiefs ship
from an early defeat. It took the crew of le Pluton, her new adversary,
by surprise; for they had not been able to distinguish the precise
position of their enemy; and, besides doing vast injury to both hull and
people, drew her fire at an unpropitious moment. So uncertain and hasty,
indeed, was the discharge the French ship gave in return, that no small
portion of the contents of her guns passed ahead of the Plantagenet, and
went into the larboard quarter of le Téméraire, the French admiral's
second ahead.
"That was a timely salute," said Sir Gervaise, smiling as soon as the
fire of his new enemy had been received without material injury. "The
first blow is always half the battle. We may now work on with some hopes
of success. Ah! here comes Greenly again, God be praised! unhurt."
The meeting of these two experienced seamen was cordial, but not without
great seriousness. Both felt that the situation of not only the ship,
but of the whole fleet, was extremely critical, the odds being much too
great, and the position of the enemy too favourable, not to render the
result, to say the very least, exceedingly doubtful. Some advantage had
certainly been obtained, thus far; but there was little hope of
preserving it long. The circumstances called for very decided and
particularly bold measures.
"My mind is made up, Greenly," observed the vice-admiral. "We must go
aboard of one of these ships, and make it a hand-to-hand affair. We will
take the French commander-in-chief; he is evidently a good deal cut up
by the manner in which his fire slackens, and if we can carry him, or
even force him out of the line, it will give us a better chance with the
rest. As for Bluewater, God only knows what has become of him! He is not
here at any rate, and we must help ourselves."
"You have only to order, Sir Gervaise, to be obeyed. I will lead the
boarders, myself."
"It must be a general thing, Greenly; I rather think we shall all of us
have to go aboard of le Foudroyant. Go, give the necessary orders, and
when every thing is ready, round in a little on the larboard braces,
clap your helm a-port, and give the ship a rank sheer to starboard. This
will bring matters to a crisis at once. By letting the fore-sail fall,
and setting the spanker, you might shove the ship ahead a little
faster."
Greenly instantly left the poop on this new and important duty. He sent
his orders into the batteries, bidding the people remain at their guns,
however, to the last moment; and particularly instructing the captain of
marines, as to the manner in which he was to cover, and then follow the
boarding-party. This done, he gave orders to brace forward the yards, as
directed by Sir Gervaise.
The reader will not overlook the material circumstance that all we have
related occurred amid the din of battle. Guns were exploding at each
instant, the cloud of smoke was both thickening and extending, fire was
flashing in the semi-obscurity of its volumes, shot were rending the
wood and cutting the rigging, and the piercing shrieks of agony, only so
much the more appalling by being extorted from the stern and resolute,
blended their thrilling accompaniments. Men seemed to be converted into
demons, and yet there was a lofty and stubborn resolution to conquer
mingled with all, that ennobled the strife and rendered it heroic. The
broadsides that were delivered in succession down the line, as ship
after ship of the rear division reached her station, however, proclaimed
that Monsieur des Prez had imitated Sir Gervaise's mode of closing, the
only one by means of which the leading vessel could escape destruction,
and that the English were completely doubled on. At this moment, the
sail-trimmers of the Plantagenet handled their braces. The first pull
was the last. No sooner were the ropes started, than the fore-top-mast
went over the bows, dragging after it the main with all its hamper, the
mizzen snapping like a pipe-stem, at the cap. By this cruel accident,
the result of many injuries to shrouds, back-stays, and spars, the
situation of the Plantagenet became worse than ever; for, not only was
the wreck to be partially cleared, at least, to fight many of the
larboard guns, but the command of the ship was, in a great measure,
lost, in the centre of one of the most infernal _mêlées_ that ever
accompanied a combat at sea.
At no time does the trained seaman ever appear so great, as when he
meets sudden misfortunes with the steadiness and quiet which it is a
material part of the _morale_ of discipline to inculcate. Greenly was
full of ardour for the assault, and was thinking of the best mode of
running foul of his adversary, when this calamity occurred; but the
masts were hardly down, when he changed all his thoughts to a new
current, and called out to the sail-trimmers to "lay over, and clear the
wreck."
Sir Gervaise, too, met with a sudden and violent check to the current of
his feelings. He had collected his Bowlderos, and was giving his
instructions as to the manner in which they were to follow, and keep
near his person, in the expected hand-to-hand encounter, when the heavy
rushing of the air, and the swoop of the mass from above, announced what
had occurred. Turning to the men, he calmly ordered them to aid in
getting rid of the incumbrances, and was in the very act of directing
Wycherly to join in the same duty, when the latter exclaimed--
"See, Sir Gervaise, here comes another of the Frenchmen close upon our
quarter. By heavens, _they_ must mean to board!"
The vice-admiral instinctively grasped his sword-hilt tighter, and
turned in the direction mentioned by his companion. There, indeed, came
a fresh ship, shoving the cloud aside, and, by the clearer atmosphere
that seemed to accompany her, apparently bringing down a current of air
stronger than common. When first seen, the jib-boom and bowsprit were
both enveloped in smoke, but his bellying fore-top-sail, and the canvass
hanging in festoons, loomed grandly in the vapour, the black yards
seeming to embrace the wreaths, merely to cast them aside. The
proximity, too, was fearful, her yard-arms promising to clear those of
the Plantagenet only by a few feet, as her dark bows brushed along the
admiral's side.
"This will be fearful work, indeed!" exclaimed Sir Gervaise. "A fresh
broadside from a ship so near, will sweep all from the spars. Go,
Wychecombe, tell Greenly to call in--Hold--'Tis an English ship! No
Frenchman's bowsprit stands like that! Almighty God be praised! 'Tis the
Cæsar--there is the old Roman's figure-head just shoving out of the
smoke!"
This was said with a yell, rather than a cry, of delight, and in a voice
so loud that the words were heard below, and flew through the ship like
the hissing of an ascending rocket. To confirm the glorious tidings, the
flash and roar of guns on the off-side of the stranger announced the
welcome tidings that le Pluton had an enemy of her own to contend with,
thus enabling the Plantagenet's people to throw all their strength on
the starboard guns, and pursue their other necessary work without
further molestation from the French rear-admiral. The gratitude of Sir
Gervaise, as the rescuing ship thrust herself in between him and his
most formidable assailant was too deep for language. He placed his hat
mechanically before his face, and thanked God, with a fervour of spirit
that never before had attended his thanksgivings. This brief act of
devotion over, he found the bows of the Cæsar, which ship was advancing
very slowly, in order not to pass too far ahead, just abreast of the
spot where he stood, and so near that objects were pretty plainly
visible. Between her knight-heads stood Bluewater, conning the ship, by
means of a line of officers, his hat in his hand, waving in
encouragement to his own people, while Geoffrey Cleveland held the
trumpet at his elbow. At that moment three noble cheers were given by
the crews of the two friendly vessels, and mingled with the increasing
roar of the Cæsar's artillery. Then the smoke rose in a cloud over the
forecastle of the latter ship, and persons could no longer be
distinguished.
Nevertheless, like all that thus approached, the relieving ship passed
slowly ahead, until nearly her whole length protected the undefended
side of her consort, delivering her fire with fearful rapidity. The
Plantagenets seemed to imbibe new life from this arrival, and their
starboard guns spoke out again, as if manned by giants. It was five
minutes, perhaps, after this seasonable arrival, before the guns of the
other ships of the English rear announced their presence on the outside
of Monsieur des Prez's force; thus bringing the whole of the two fleets
into four lines, all steering dead before the wind, and, as it were,
interwoven with each other. By that time, the poops of the Plantagenet
and Cæsar became visible from one to the other, the smoke now driving
principally off from the vessels. There again were our two admirals each
anxiously watching to get a glimpse of his friend. The instant the place
was clear, Sir Gervaise applied the trumpet to his mouth, and called
out--
"God bless you--Dick! may God for ever bless you--_your_ ship can do
it--clap your helm hard a-starboard, and sheer into M. des Prez; you'll
have him in five minutes."
Bluewater smiled, waved his hand, gave an order, and laid aside his
trumpet. Two minutes later, the Cæsar sheered into the smoke on her
larboard beam, and the crash of the meeting vessels was heard. By this
time, the wreck of the Plantagenet was cut adrift, and she, too, made a
rank sheer, though in a direction opposite to that of the Cæsar's. As
she went through the smoke, her guns ceased, and when she emerged into
the pure air, it was found that le Foudroyant had set courses and
top-gallant-sails, and was drawing so fast ahead, as to render pursuit,
under the little sail that could be set, unprofitable. Signals were out
of the question, but this movement of the two admirals converted the
whole battle scene into one of inexplicable confusion. Ship after ship
changed her position, and ceased her fire from uncertainty what that
position was, until a general silence succeeded the roar of the
cannonade. It was indispensable to pause and let the smoke blow away.
It did not require many minutes to raise the curtain on the two fleets.
As soon as the firing stopped, the wind increased, and the smoke was
driven off to leeward in a vast straggling cloud, that seemed to scatter
and disperse in the air spontaneously. Then a sight of the havoc and
destruction that had been done in this short conflict was first
obtained.
The two squadrons were intermingled, and it required some little time
for Sir Gervaise to get a clear idea of the state of his own ships.
Generally, it might be said that the vessels were scattering, the French
sheering towards their own coast, while the English were principally
coming by the wind on the larboard tack, or heading in towards England.
The Cæsar and le Pluton were still foul of each other, though a
rear-admiral's flag was flying at the mizzen of the first, while that
which had so lately fluttered at the royal-mast-head of the other, had
disappeared. The Achilles, Lord Morganic, was still among the French,
more to leeward than any other English ship, without a single spar
standing. Her ensigns were flying, notwithstanding, and the Thunderer
and Dublin, both in tolerable order, were edging away rapidly to cover
their crippled consort; though the nearest French vessels seemed more
bent on getting out of the _mêlée_, and into their own line again, than
on securing any advantage already obtained. Le Téméraire was in the same
predicament as the Achilles as to spars, though much more injured in her
hull, besides having thrice as many casualties. Her flag was down; the
ship having fairly struck to the Warspite, whose boats were already
alongside of her. Le Foudroyant, with quite one-third of her crew killed
and wounded, was running off to leeward, with signals flying for her
consorts to rally round her; but, within less than ten minutes after she
became visible, her main and mizzen-masts both went. The Blenheim had
lost all her top-masts, like the Plantagenet, and neither the Elizabeth
nor the York had a mizzen-mast standing, although engaged but a very
short time. Several lower yards were shot away, or so much injured as to
compel the ships to shorten sail; this accident having occurred in both
fleets. As for the damage done to the standing and running rigging, and
to the sails, it is only necessary to say that shrouds, back and
head-stays, braces, bowlines and lifts, were dangling in all directions,
while the canvass that was open exhibited all sorts of rents, from that
which had been torn like cloth in the shopman's hands, to the little
eyelet holes of the canister and grape. It appeared, by the subsequent
reports of the two parties, that, in this short but severe conflict, the
slain and wounded of the English amounted to seven hundred and
sixty-three, including officers; and that of the French, to one thousand
four hundred and twelve. The disparity in this respect would probably
have been greater against the latter, had it not been for the manner in
which M. des Prez succeeded in doubling on his enemies.
Little need be said in explanation of the parts of this battle that have
not been distinctly related. M. des Prez had man[oe]uvered in the manner
he did, at the commencement of the affair, in the hope of drawing Sir
Gervaise down upon the division of the Comte de Vervillin; and no sooner
did he see, the first fairly enveloped in smoke, than he wore short
round and joined in the affair, as has been mentioned. At this sight,
Bluewater's loyalty to the Stuarts could resist no longer. Throwing out
a general signal to engage, he squared away, set every thing that would
draw on the Cæsar, and arrived in time to save his friend. The other
ships followed, engaging on the outside, for want of room to imitate
their leader.
Two more of the French ships, at least, in addition to _le Téméraire_
and _le Pluton_, might have been added to the list of prizes, had the
actual condition of their fleet been known. But, at such moments, a
combatant sees and feels his own injuries, while he has to conjecture
many of those of his adversaries; and the English were too much occupied
in making the provisions necessary to save their remaining spars, to
risk much in order to swell an advantage that was already so
considerable. Some distant firing passed between the Thunderer and
Dublin, and l'Ajax, le Dugay Trouin, and l'Hector, before the two former
succeeded in getting Lord Morganic out of his difficulties; but it led
to no material result; merely inflicting new injuries on certain spars
that were sufficiently damaged before, and killing and wounding some
fifteen or twenty men quite uselessly. As soon as the vice-admiral saw
what was likely to be the effects of this episode, he called off Captain
O'Neil of the Dublin, by signal, he being an officer of a "hot temper,"
as the soldier said of himself at Waterloo. The compliance with this
order may be said to have terminated the battle.
The reader will remember that the wind, at the commencement of the
engagement, was at north-west. It was nearly "killed," as seamen express
it, by the cannonade; then it revived a little, as the concussions of
the guns gradually diminished. But the combined effect of the advance of
the day, and the rushing of new currents of air to fill the vacuums
produced by the burning of so much powder, was a sudden shift of wind; a
breeze coming out strong, and as it might be, in an instant, from the
eastward. This unexpected alteration in the direction and power of the
wind, cost the Thunderer her foremast, and did other damage to different
ships; but, by dint of great activity and careful handling, all the
English vessels got their heads round to the northward, while the French
filled the other way, and went off free, steering nearly south-east,
making the best of their way for Brest. The latter suffered still more
than their enemies, by the change just mentioned; and when they reached
port, as did all but one the following day, no less than three were
towed in without a spar standing, bowsprits excepted.
The exception was _le Caton_, which ship M. de Vervillin set fire to and
blew up, on account of her damages, in the course of the afternoon. Thus
of twelve noble two-decked ships with which this officer sailed from
Cherbourg only two days before, he reached Brest with but seven.
Nor were the English entirely without their embarrassments. Although the
Warspite had compelled le Téméraire to strike, she was kept afloat
herself with a good deal of difficulty, and that, too, not without
considerable assistance from the other vessels. The leaks, however, were
eventually stopped, and then the ship was given up to the care of her
own crew. Other vessels suffered of course, but no English ship was in
as much jeopardy as this.
The first hour after the action ceased, was one of great exertion and
anxiety to our admiral. He called the Chloe alongside by signal, and,
attended by Wycherly and his own quarter-masters, Galleygo, who went
without orders, and the Bowlderos who were unhurt, he shifted his flag
to that frigate. Then he immediately commenced passing from vessel to
vessel, in order to ascertain the actual condition of his command. The
Achilles detained him some time, and he was near her, or to leeward,
when the wind shifted; which was bringing him to windward in the present
stale of things. Of this advantage he availed himself, by urging the
different ships off as fast as possible; and long before the sun was in
the meridian, all the English vessels were making the best of their way
towards the land, with the intention of fetching into Plymouth if
possible; if not, into the nearest and best anchorage to leeward. The
progress of the fleet was relatively slow, as a matter of course, though
it got along at the rate of some five knots, by making a free wind of
it.
The master of the Chloe had just taken the sun, in order to ascertain
his latitude, when the vice-admiral commanded Denham to set
top-gallant-sails, and go within hail of the Cæsar. That ship had got
clear of _le Pluton_ half an hour after the action ceased, and she was
now leading the fleet, with her three top-sails on the caps. Aloft she
had suffered comparatively little; but Sir Gervaise knew that there must
have been a serious loss of men in carrying, hand to hand, a vessel like
that of M. des Prez. He was anxious to see his friend, and to hear the
manner in which his success had been obtained, and, we might add, to
remonstrate with Bluewater on a course that had led the latter to the
verge of a most dangerous abyss.
The Chloe was half an hour running through the fleet, which was a good
deal extended, and was sailing without any regard to a line. Sir
Gervaise had many questions to ask, too, of the different commanders in
passing. At last the frigate overtook le Téméraire, which vessel was
following the Cæsar under easy canvass. As the Chloe came up abeam, Sir
Gervaise appeared in the gangway of the frigate, and, hat in hand, he
asked with an accent that was intelligible, though it might not have
absolutely stood the test of criticism,--
_"Le Vice-Admiral Oakes demande comment se porte-il, le contre-amiral,
le Vicomte des Prez?"_
A little elderly man, dressed with extreme care, with a powdered head,
but of a firm step and perfectly collected expression of countenance,
appeared on the verge of le Téméraire's poop, trumpet in hand, to reply.
"_Le Vicomte des Prez remercie bien Monsieur le Chevalier Oake, et
désire vivement de savoir comment se porte Monsieur le Vice-Amiral?_"
Mutual waves of the trumpets served as replies to the questions, and
then, after taking a moment to muster his French, Sir Gervaise
continued--
_"J'espère voir Monsieur le Contre-Amiral à dîner, à cinq heures,
précis."_
The vicomte smiled at this characteristic manifestation of good-will and
courtesy; and after pausing an instant to choose an expression to soften
his refusal, and to express his own sense of the motive of the
invitation, he called out--
_"Veuillez bien recevoir nos excuses pour aujourd'hui, Mons. le
Chevalier. Nous n'avons pas encore digéré le repas si noble reçu à vos
mains comme déjeuner."_
The Chloe passing ahead, bows terminated the interview. Sir Gervaise's
French was at fault, for what between the rapid, neat, pronunciation of
the Frenchman, the trumpet, and the turn of the expression, he did not
comprehend the meaning of the _contre-amiral_.
"What does he say, Wychecombe?" he asked eagerly of the young man. "Will
he come, or not?"
"Upon my word, Sir Gervaise, French is a sealed language to me. Never
having been a prisoner, no opportunity has offered for acquiring the
language. As I understood, you intended to ask him to dinner; I rather
think, from his countenance, he meant to say he was not in spirits for
the entertainment."
"Pooh! we would have put him in spirits, and Bluewater could have talked
to him in his own tongue, by the fathom. We will close with the Cæsar to
leeward, Denham; never mind rank on an occasion like this. It's time to
let the top-gallant-halyards run; you'll have to settle your top-sails
too, or we shall shoot past her. Bluewater may take it as a salute to
his gallantry in carrying so fine a ship in so handsome a manner."
Several minutes now passed in silence, during which the frigate was less
and less rapidly closing with the larger vessel, drawing ahead towards
the last, as it might be, foot by foot. Sir Gervaise got upon one of the
quarter-deck guns, and steadying himself against the hammock-cloths, he
was in readiness to exchange the greetings he was accustomed to give and
to receive from his friend, in the same heartfelt manner as if nothing
had occurred to disturb the harmony of their feelings. The single glance
of the eye, the waving of the hat, and the noble manner in which
Bluewater interposed between him and his most dangerous enemy, was still
present to his mind, and disposed him even more than common to the
kindest feelings of his nature. Stowel was already on the poop of the
Cæsar, and, as the Chloe came slowly on, he raised his hat in deference
to the commander-in-chief. It was a point of delicacy with Sir Gervaise
never to interfere with any subordinate flag-officer's vessel any more
than duty rigidly required; consequently his communications with the
captain of the Cæsar had usually been of a general nature, verbal orders
and criticisms being studiously avoided. This circumstance rendered the
commander-in-chief even a greater favourite than common with Stowel, who
had all his own way in his own ship, in consequence of the
rear-admiral's indifference to such matters.
"How do you do, Stowel?" called out Sir Gervaise, cordially. "I am
delighted to see you on your legs, and hope the old Roman is not much
the worse for this day's treatment"
"I thank you, Sir Gervaise, we are both afloat yet, though we have
passed through warm times. The ship is damaged, sir, as you may suppose;
and, although it stands so bravely, and looks so upright, that foremast
of ours is as good as a condemned spar. One thirty-two through the heart
of it, about ten feet from the deck, an eighteen in the hounds, and a
double-header sticking in one of the hoops! A spar cannot be counted for
much that has as many holes in it as those, sir!"
"Deal tenderly with it, my old friend, and spare the canvass; those
chaps at Plymouth will set all to rights, again, in a week. Hoops can be
had for asking, and as for holes in the heart, many a poor fellow has
had them, and lived through it all. You are a case in point; Mrs. Stowel
not having spared you in that way, I'll answer for it."
"Mrs. Stowel commands ashore, Sir Gervaise, and I command afloat; and in
that way, we keep a quiet ship and a quiet house, I thank you, sir; and
I endeavour to think of her at sea, as little as possible."
"Ay, that's the way with you doting husbands;--always ashamed of your
own lively sensibilities. But what has become of Bluewater?--Does he
know that we are alongside?"
Stowel looked round, cast his eyes up at the sails, and played with the
hilt of his sword. The rapid eye of the commander-in-chief detected this
embarrassment, and quick as thought he demanded what had happened.
"Why, Sir Gervaise, you know how it is with some admirals, who like to
be in every thing. I told our respected and beloved friend, that he had
nothing to do with boarding; that if either of us was to go, _I_ was the
proper man; but that we ought both to stick by the ship. He answered
something about lost honour and duty, and you know, sir, what legs he
has, when he wishes to use them! One might as well think of stopping a
deserter by a halloo; away he went, with the first party, sword in hand,
a sight I never saw before, and never wish to see again! Thus you see
how it was, sir."
The commander-in-chief compressed his lips, until his features, and
indeed his whole form was a picture of desperate resolution, though his
face was as pale as death, and the muscles of his mouth twitched, in
spite of all his physical self-command.
"I understand you, sir," he said, in a voice that seemed to issue from
his chest; "you wish to say that Admiral Bluewater is killed."
"No, thank God! Sir Gervaise, not _quite_ as bad as that, though sadly
hurt; yes, indeed, very sadly hurt!"
Sir Gervaise Oakes groaned, and for a few minutes he leaned his head on
the hammock-cloths, veiling his face from the sight of men. Then he
raised his person erect, and said steadily--
"Run your top-sails to the mast-head, Captain Stowel, and round your
ship to. I will come on board of you."
An order was given to Denham to take room, when the Chloe came to the
wind on one tack and the Cæsar on the other. This was contrary to rule,
as it increased the distance between the ships; but the vice-admiral was
impatient to be in his barge. In ten minutes he was mounting the Cæsar's
side, and in two more he was in Bluewater's main-cabin. Geoffrey
Cleveland was seated by the table, with his face buried in his arms.
Touching his shoulder, the boy raised his head, and showed a face
covered with tears.
"How is he, boy?" demanded Sir Gervaise, hoarsely. "Do the surgeons give
any hopes?"
The midshipman shook his head, and then, as if the question renewed his
grief, he again buried his face in his arms. At this moment, the surgeon
of the ship came from the rear-admiral's state-room, and following the
commander-in-chief into the after-cabin, they had a long conference
together.
Minute after minute passed, and the Cæsar and Chloe still lay with their
main-top-sails aback. At the end of half an hour, Denham wore round and
laid the head of his frigate in the proper direction. Ship after ship
came up, and went on to the northward, fast as her crippled state would
allow, yet no sign of movement was seen in the Cæsar. Two sail had
appeared in the south-eastern board, and they, too, approached and
passed without bringing the vice-admiral even on deck. These ships
proved to be the Carnatic and her prize, le Scipion, which latter ship
had been intercepted and easily captured by the former. The steering of
M. de Vervillin to the south-west had left a clear passage to the two
ships, which were coming down with a free wind at a handsome rate of
sailing. This news was sent into the Cæsar's cabin, but it brought no
person and no answer out of it. At length, when every thing had gone
ahead, the barge returned to the Chloe. It merely took a note, however,
which was no sooner read by Wycherly, than he summoned the Bowlderos and
Galleygo, had all the vice-admiral's luggage passed into the boat,
struck his flag, and took his leave of Denham. As soon as the boat was
clear of the frigate, the latter made all sail after the fleet, to
resume her ordinary duties of a look-out and a repeating-ship.
As soon as Wycherly reached the Cæsar, that ship hoisted in the
vice-admiral's barge. A report was made to Sir Gervaise of what had been
done, and then an order came on deck that occasioned all in the fleet to
stare with surprise. The red flag of Sir Gervaise Oakes was run up at
the foreroyal-mast-head of the Cæsar, while the white flag of the
rear-admiral was still flying at her mizzen. Such a thing had never
before been known to happen, if it has ever happened since; and to the
time when she was subsequently lost, the Cæsar was known as the double
flag-ship.