The Two Admirals (62 page)

Sir Gervaise now looked out each word by its proper number, and wrote it
down with his pencil as he proceeded, until the whole read—"God
sake—make no signal. Engage not." No sooner was the communication
understood, than the paper was torn into minute fragments, the book
replaced, and the vice-admiral, turning with a calm determined
countenance to Greenly, ordered him to beat to quarters as soon as
Bunting could show a signal to the fleet to the same effect. On this
hint, all but the vice-admiral went on deck, and the Bowlderos instantly
set about removing the table and all the other appliances. Finding
himself annoyed by the movements of the servants, Sir Gervaise walked
out into the great cabin, which, regardless of its present condition, he
began to pace as was his wont when lost in thought. The bulk-heads being
down, and the furniture removed, this was in truth walking in sight of
the crew. All who happened to be on the main-deck could see what passed,
though no one presumed to enter a spot that was tabooed to vulgar feet,
even when thus exposed. The aspect and manner of "Sir Jarvy," however,
were not overlooked, and the men prognosticated a serious time.

Such was the state of things, when the drums beat to quarters,
throughout the whole line. At the first tap, the great cabin sunk to the
level of an ordinary battery; the seamen of two guns, with the proper
officers, entering within the sacred limits, and coolly setting about
clearing their pieces, and making the other preparations necessary for
an action. All this time Sir Gervaise continued pacing what would have
been the centre of his own cabin had the bulk-heads stood, the
grim-looking sailors avoiding him with great dexterity, and invariably
touching their hats as they were compelled to glide near his person,
though every thing went on as if he were not present. Sir Gervaise might
have remained lost in thought much longer than he did, had not the
report of a gun recalled him to a consciousness of the scene that was
enacting around him.

"What's that?" suddenly demanded the vice-admiral—"Is Blue water
signalling again?"

"No, Sir Gervaise," answered the fourth lieutenant, looking out of a lee
port; "it is the French admiral giving us another weather-gun; as much
as to ask why we don't go down. This is the second compliment of the
same sort that he has paid us already to-day!"

These words were not all spoken before the vice-admiral was on the
quarter-deck; in half a minute more, he was on the poop. Here he found
Greenly, Wychecombe, and Bunting, all looking with interest at the
beautiful line of the enemy.

"Monsieur de Vervillin is impatient to wipe off the disgrace of
yesterday," observed the first, "as is apparent by the invitations he
gives us to come down. I presume Admiral Bluewater will wake up at this
last hint."

"By Heaven, he has hauled his wind, and is standing to the northward and
eastward!" exclaimed Sir Gervaise, surprise overcoming all his
discretion. "Although an extraordinary movement, at such a time, it is
wonderful in what beautiful order Bluewater keeps his ships!"

All that was said was true enough. The rear-admiral's division having
suddenly hauled up, in a close line ahead, each ship followed her leader
as mechanically as if they moved by a common impulse. As no one in the
least doubted the rear-admiral's loyalty, and his courage was of proof,
it was the general opinion that this unusual manoeuvre had some
connection with the unintelligible signals, and the young officers
laughingly inquired among themselves what "Sir Jarvy was likely to do
next?"

It would seem, however, that Monsieur de Vervillin suspected a
repetition of some of the scenes of the preceding day; for, no sooner
did he perceive that the English rear was hugging the wind, than five of
his leading ships filled, and drew ahead, as if to meet that division,
manoeuvring to double on the head of his line; while the remaining
five, with the Foudroyant, still lay with their top-sails to the mast,
waiting for their enemy to come down. Sir Gervaise could not stand this
long. He determined, if possible, to bring Bluewater to terms, and he
ordered the Plantagenet to fill. Followed by his own division, he wore
immediately, and went off under easy sail, quartering, towards Monsieur
de Vervillin's rear, to avoid being raked.

The quarter of an hour that succeeded was one of intense interest, and
of material changes; though not a shot was fired. As soon as the Comte
de Vervillin perceived that the English were disposed to come nearer, he
signalled his own division to bear up, and to run off dead before the
wind, under their top-sails, commencing astern; which reversed his order
of sailing, and brought le Foudroyant in the rear, or nearest to the
enemy. This was no sooner done, than he settled all his top-sails on the
caps. There could be no mistaking this manoeuvre. It was a direct
invitation to Sir Gervaise to come down, fairly alongside; the bearing
up at once removing all risk of being raked in so doing. The English
commander-in-chief was not a man to neglect such a palpable challenge;
but, making a few signals to direct the mode of attack he contemplated,
he set fore-sail and main-top-gallant-sail, and brought the wind directly
over his own taffrail. The vessels astern followed like clock-work, and
no one now doubted that the mode of attack was settled for that day.

As the French, with Monsieur de Vervillin, were still half a mile to the
southward and eastward of the approaching division, of their enemy, the
Comte collected all his frigates and corvettes on his starboard hand,
leaving a clear approach to Sir Gervaise on his larboard beam. This hint
was understood, too, and the Plantagenet steered a course that would
bring her up on that side of le Foudroyant, and at the distance of about
one hundred yards from the muzzles of her guns. This threatened to be
close work, and unusual work in fleets, at that day; but it was the game
our commander-in-chief was fond of playing, and it was one, also, that
promised soonest to bring matters to a result.

These preliminaries arranged, there was yet leisure for the respective
commanders to look about them. The French were still fully a mile ahead
of their enemies, and as both fleets were going in the same direction,
the approach of the English was so slow as to leave some twenty minutes
of that solemn breathing time, which reigns in a disciplined ship,
previous to the commencement of the combat. The feelings of the two
commanders-in-chief, at this pregnant instant, were singularly in
contradiction to each other. The Comte de Vervillin saw that the rear
division of his force, under the Comte-Amiral le Vicomte des Prez, was
in the very position he desired it to be, having obtained the advantage
of the wind by the English division's coming down, and by keeping its
own luff. Between the two French officers there was a perfect
understanding as to the course each was to take, and both now felt
sanguine hopes of being able to obliterate the disgrace of the previous
day, and that, too, by means very similar to those by which it had been
incurred. On the other hand, Sir Gervaise was beset with doubts as to
the course Bluewater might pursue. He could not, however, come to the
conclusion that he would abandon him to the joint efforts of the two
hostile divisions; and so long as the French rear-admiral was occupied
by the English force to windward, it left to himself a clear field and
no favour in the action with Monsieur de Vervillin. He knew Bluewater's
generous nature too well not to feel certain his own compliance with the
request not to signal his inferior would touch his heart, and give him a
double chance with all his better feelings. Nevertheless, Sir Gervaise
Oakes did not lead into this action without many and painful misgivings.
He had lived too long in the world not to know that political prejudice
was the most demoralising of all our weaknesses, veiling our private
vices under the plausible concealment of the public weal, and rendering
even the well-disposed insensible to the wrongs they commit to
individuals, by means of the deceptive flattery of serving the
community. As doubt was more painful than the certainty of his worst
forebodings, however, and it was not in his nature to refuse a combat so
fairly offered, he was resolved to close with the Comte at every hazard,
trusting the issue to God, and his own efforts.

The Plantagenet presented an eloquent picture of order and preparation,
as she drew near the French line, on this memorable occasion. Her people
were all at quarters, and, as Greenly walked through her batteries, he
found every gun on the starboard side loose, levelled, and ready to be
fired; while the opposite merely required a turn or two of the tackles
to be cast loose, the priming to be applied, and the loggerhead to
follow, in order to be discharged, also. A death-like stillness reigned
from the poop to the cock-pit, the older seamen occasionally glancing
through their ports in order to ascertain the relative positions of the
two fleets, that they might be ready for the collision. As the English
got within musket-shot, the French ran their top-sails to the mast-heads,
and their ships gathered fresher way through the water. Still the former
moved with the greatest velocity, carrying the most sail, and impelled
by the greater momentum. When near enough, however, Sir Gervaise gave
the order to reduce the canvass of his own ship.

"That will do, Greenly," he said, in a mild, quiet tone. "Let run the
top-gallant-halyards, and haul up the fore-sail. The way you have, will
bring you fairly alongside."

The captain gave the necessary orders, and the master shortened sail
accordingly. Still the Plantagenet shot ahead, and, in three or four
minutes more, her bows doubled so far on le Foudroyant's quarter, as to
permit a gun to bear. This was the signal for both sides, each ship
opening as it might be in the same breath. The flash, the roar, and the
eddying smoke followed in quick succession, and in a period of time that
seemed nearly instantaneous. The crash of shot, and the shrieks of
wounded mingled with the infernal din, for nature extorts painful
concessions of human weaknesses, at such moments, even from the bravest
and firmest. Bunting was in the act of reporting to Sir Gervaise that no
signal could yet be seen from the Cæsar, in the midst of this uproar,
when a small round-shot, discharged from the Frenchman's poop, passed
through his body, literally driving the heart before it, leaving him
dead at his commander's feet.

"I shall depend on you, Sir Wycherly, for the discharge of poor
Bunting's duty, the remainder of the cruise," observed Sir Gervaise,
with a smile in which courtesy and regret struggled singularly for the
mastery. "Quarter-masters, lay Mr. Bunting's body a little out of the
way, and cover it with those signals. They are a suitable pall for so
brave a man!"

Just as this occurred, the Warspite came clear of the Plantagenet, on
her outside, according to orders, and she opened with her forward guns,
taking the second ship in the French line for her target. In two minutes
more these vessels also were furiously engaged in the hot strife. In
this manner, ship after ship passed on the outside of the Plantagenet,
and sheered into her berth ahead of her who had just been her own
leader, until the Achilles, Lord Morganic, the last of the five, lay
fairly side by side with le Conquereur, the vessel now at the head of
the French line. That the reader may understand the incidents more
readily, we will give the opposing lines in the precise form in which
they lay, viz.

Plantagenet le Foudroyant

Warspite le Téméraire

Blenheim le Dugay Trouin

Thunderer l'Ajax

Achilles le Conquereur.

The constantly recurring discharges of four hundred pieces of heavy
ordnance, within a space so small, had the effect to repel the regular
currents of air, and, almost immediately, to lessen a breeze of six or
seven knots, to one that would not propel a ship more than two or three.
This was the first observable phenomenon connected with the action, but,
as it had been expected, Sir Gervaise had used the precaution to lay his
ships as near as possible in the positions in which he intended them to
fight the battle. The next great physical consequence, one equally
expected and natural, but which wrought a great change in the aspect of
the battle, was the cloud of smoke in which the ten ships were suddenly
enveloped. At the first broadsides between the two admirals, volumes of
light, fleecy vapour rolled over the sea, meeting midway, and rising
thence in curling wreaths, left nothing but the masts and sails of the
adversary visible in the hostile ship. This, of itself, would have soon
hidden the combatants in the bosom of a nearly impenetrable cloud; but
as the vessels drove onward they entered deeper beneath the sulphurous
canopy, until it spread on each side of them, shutting out the view of
ocean, skies, and horizon. The burning of the priming below contributed
to increase the smoke, until, not only was respiration often difficult,
but those who fought only a few yards apart frequently could not
recognise each other's faces. In the midst of this scene of obscurity,
and a din that might well have alarmed the caverns of the ocean, the
earnest and well-drilled seamen toiled at their ponderous guns, and
remedied with ready hands the injuries received in the rigging, each man
as intent on his own particular duty as if he wrought in the occupations
of an ordinary gale.

"Sir Wycherly," observed the vice-admiral, when the cannonading had
continued some twenty minutes, "there is little for a flag-officer to do
in such a cloud of smoke. I would give much to know the exact positions
of the divisions of our two rear-admirals."

"There is but one mode of ascertaining that, Sir Gervaise—if it be your
pleasure, I will attempt it. By going on the main-top-gallant-yard, one
might get a clear view, perhaps."