The Two Admirals (64 page)

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 manoeuvered 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.