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Authors: James Fenimore Cooper

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All the idlers by this time were out of their berths and cotts; the
signs of those who "slept in the country," as it is termed, or who were
obliged, for want of state-rooms, to sling in the common apartment,
having disappeared. Magrath was reading a treatise on medicine, in good
Leyden Latin, by a lamp. The purser was endeavouring to decipher his
steward's hieroglyphics, favoured by the same light, and the captain of
marines was examining the lock of an aged musket. The third and fourth
lieutenants were helping each other to untangle one of their
Bay-of-Biscay reckonings, which had set both plane and spherical
trigonometry at defiance, by a lamp of their own; and the chaplain was
hurrying the steward and the boys along with the breakfast—his usual
occupation at that "witching time" in the morning.

While things were in this state, the first lieutenant, Mr. Bury,
appeared in the gun-room. His arrival caused one or two of the mess to
glance upward at him, though no one spoke but the junior lieutenant,
who, being an honourable, was at his ease with every one on board, short
of the captain.

"What's the news from deck, Bury?" asked this officer, a youth of
twenty, his senior being a man ten years older. "Is Mr. de Vervillin
thinking of running away yet?"

"Not he, sir; there's too much of the game-cock about him for
that
."

"I'll warrant you he can
crow
! But what
is
the news, Bury?"

"The news is that the old Planter is as wet as a wash-tub, forward, and
I must have a dry jacket—do you hear, there, Tom? Soundings," turning
to the master, who just then came in from forward, "have you taken a
look out of doors this morning?"

"You know I seldom forget that, Mr. Bury. A pretty pickle the ship would
soon be in, if
I
forgot to look about me!"

"He swallowed the deep-sea, down in the bay," cried the honourable,
laughing, "and goes every morning at day-light to look for it out at the
bridle-ports."

"Well, then, Soundings, what do you think of the third ship in the
French line?" continued Bury, disregarding the levity of the youth: "did
you ever see such top-masts, as she carries, before?"

"I scarce ever saw a Frenchman without them, Mr. Bury. You'd have just
such sticks in this fleet, if Sir Jarvy would stand them."

"Ay, but Sir Jarvy
won't
stand them. The captain who sent such a stick
up in his ship, would have to throw it overboard before night. I never
saw such a pole in the air in my life!"

"What's the matter with the mast, Mr. Bury?" put in Magrath, who kept up
what he called constant scientific skirmishes with the
elder
sea-officers; the
junior
being too inexperienced in his view to be
worthy of a contest. "I'll engage the spar is moulded and fashioned
agreeably to the most approved pheelosphical principles; for in
that
the French certainly excel us."

"Who ever heard of
moulding
a spar?" interrupted Soundings, laughing
loudly, "we
mould
a ship's frame, Doctor, but we
lengthen
and
shorten
, and
scrape
and
fid
her masts."

"I'm answered as usual, gentlemen, and voted down, I suppose by
acclamation, as they call it in other learned bodies. I would advise no
creature that has a reason to go to sea; an instinct being all that is
needed to make a Lord High Admiral of twenty tails."

"I should like Sir Jarvy to hear
that
, my man of books," cried the
fourth, who had satisfied himself that a book was not his own forte—"I
fancy your instinct, doctor, will prevent you from whispering this in
the vice-admiral's ear!"

Although Magrath had a profound respect for the commander-in-chief, he
was averse to giving in, in a gun-room discussion. His answer,
therefore, partook of the feeling of the moment.

"Sir Gervaise," (he pronounced this word Jairvis,) "Sir Gervaise Oakes,
honourable
sir," he said, with a sneer, "may be a good seaman, but
he's no linguist. Now, there he was, ashore among the dead and dying,
just as ignorant of the meaning of
filius nullius
, which is boy's
Latin, as if he had never seen a horn-book! Nevertheless, gentlemen, it
is science, and not even the classics, that makes the man; as for a
creature's getting the sciences by instinct, I shall contend it is
against the possibilities, whereas the attainment of what you call
seamanship, is among even the lesser probabilities."

"This is the most marine-ish talk I ever heard from your mouth, doctor,"
interrupted Soundings. "How the devil can a man tell how to ware ship by
instinct, as you call it, if one may ask the question?"

"Simply, Soundings, because the process of ratiocination is dispensed
with. Do you have to
think
in waring ship, now?—I'll put it to your
own honour, for the answer."

"Think!—I should be a poor creature for a master, indeed, if much
thinking were wanting in so simple a matter as tacking or veering.
No—no—your real sea-dog has no occasion for much
thinking
, when he
has his work before him."

"That'll just be it, gentlemen!—that'll be just what I'm telling ye,"
cried the doctor, exulting in the success of his artifice. "Not only
will Mr. Soundings not
think
, when he has his ordinary duties to
perform, but he holds the process itself in merited contempt, ye'll
obsairve; and so my theory is established, by evidence of a pairty
concerned; which is more than a postulate logically requires."

Here Magrath dropped his book, and laughed with that sort of hissing
sound that seems peculiar to the genus of which he formed a part. He was
still indulging in his triumph, when the first tap of the drum was
heard. All listened; every ear pricking like that of a deer that hears
the hound, when there followed—"r-r-r-ap tap—r-r-r-ap tap—r-r-r-ap
tapa-tap-tap—rap-a-tap—a-rap-a-tap a-rap-a-tap—a-tap-tap."

"Instinct or reason, Sir Jarvy is going to quarters!" exclaimed the
honourable. "I'd no notion we were near enough to the Monsieurs, for
that
!"

"Now," said Magrath, with a grinning sneer, as he rose to descend to the
cock-pit, "there'll may be arise an occasion for a little learning, when
I'll promise ye all the science that can be mustered in my unworthy
knowledge. Soundings, I may have to heave the lead in the depths of your
physical formation, in which case I'll just endeevour to avoid the
breakers of ignorance."

"Go to the devil, or to the cock-pit, whichever you please, sir,"
answered the master; "I've served in six general actions, already, and
have never been obliged to one of your kidney for so much as a bit of
court-plaster or lint. With me, oakum answers for one, and canvass for
the other."

While this was saying, all hands were in motion. The sea and marine
officers looking for their side-arms, the surgeon carefully collecting
his books, and the chaplain seizing a dish of cold beef, that was
hurriedly set upon a table, carrying it down with him to his quarters,
by way of taking it out of harm's way. In a minute, the gun-room was
cleared of all who usually dwelt there, and their places were supplied
by the seamen who manned the three or four thirty-two's that were
mounted in the apartment, together with their opposites. As the
sea-officers, in particular, appeared among the men, their faces assumed
an air of authority, and their voices were heard calling out the order
to "tumble up," as they hastened themselves to their several stations.

All this time, Sir Gervaise Oakes paced the poop. Bunting and the
quarter-master were in readiness to hoist the new signal, and Greenly
merely waited for the reports, to join the commander-in-chief. In about
five minutes after the drum had given its first tap, these were
completed, and the captain ascended to the poop.

"By standing on, on our present course, Captain Greenly," observed Sir
Gervaise, anxious to justify to himself the evolution he contemplated,
"the rear of our line and the van of the French will be brought within
fair range of shot from each other, and, by an accident, we might lose a
ship; since any vessel that was crippled, would necessarily sag directly
down upon the enemy. Now, I propose to keep away in the Plantagenet, and
just brush past the leading French ships, at about the distance the
Warspite will
have
to pass, and so alter the face of matters a little.
What do you think would be the consequence of such a manoeuvre?"

"That the van of our line and the van of the French will be brought as
near together, as you have just said must happen to the rear, Sir
Gervaise, in any case."

"It does not require a mathematician to tell that much, sir. You will
keep away, as soon as Bunting shows the signal, and bring the wind
abeam. Never mind the braces; let
them
stand fast; as soon as we have
passed the French admiral, I shall luff, again. This will cause us to
lose a little of our weatherly position, but about that I am very
indifferent. Give the order, sir—Bunting, run up the signal."

These commands were silently obeyed, and presently the Plantagenet was
running directly in the troughs of the seas, with quite double her
former velocity. The other ships answered promptly, each keeping away as
her second ahead came down to the proper line of sailing, and all
complying to the letter with an order that was very easy of execution.
The effect, besides giving every prospect of a distant engagement, was
to straighten the line to nearly mathematical precision.

"Is it your wish, Sir Gervaise, that we should endeavour to open our lee
lower ports?" asked Greenly. "Unless we attempt something of the sort,
we shall have nothing heavier than the eighteens to depend on, should
Monsieur de Vervillin see fit to begin."

"And will
he
be any better off?—It would be next to madness to think
of fighting the lower-deck guns, in such weather, and we will keep all
fast. Should the French commence the sport, we shall have the advantage
of being to windward; and the loss of a few weather shrouds might bring
down the best mast in their fleet."

Greenly made no answer, though he perfectly understood that the loss of
a mast would almost certainly ensure the loss of the ship, did one of
his own heavier spars go. But this was Sir Gervaise's greatest weakness
as a commander, and he knew it would be useless to attempt persuading
him to suffer a single ship under his order to pass the enemy nearer
than he went himself in the Plantagenet. This was what he called
covering his ships; though it amounted to no more than putting all of
them in the jeopardy that happened to be unavoidable, as regarded one or
two.

The Comte de Vervillin seemed at a loss to understand this sudden and
extraordinary movement in the van of his enemy. His signals followed,
and his crews went to their guns; but it was not an easy matter for
ships that persevered in hugging the wind to make any material
alterations in their relative positions, in such a gale. The rate of
sailing of the English, however, now menaced a speedy collision, if
collision were intended, and it was time to be stirring, in order to be
ready for it.

On the other hand, all was quiet, and, seemingly, death-like, in the
English ships. Their people were at their quarters, already, and this is
a moment of profound stillness in a vessel of war. The lower ports being
down, the portions of the crews stationed on those decks were buried, as
it might be, in obscurity, while even those above were still partly
concealed by the half-ports. There was virtually nothing for the
sail-trimmers to do, and every thing was apparently left to the
evolutions of the vast machines themselves, in which they floated. Sir
Gervaise, Greenly, and the usual attendants still remained on the poop,
their eyes scarcely turning for an instant from the fleet of the enemy.

By this time the Plantagenct and
le Téméraire
were little more than a
mile apart, each minute lessening this distance. The latter ship was
struggling along, her bows plunging into the seas to the hawse-holes,
while the former had a swift, easy motion through the troughs, and along
the summits of the waves, her flattened sails aiding in steadying her in
the heavy lurches that unavoidably accompanied such a movement. Still, a
sea would occasionally break against her weather side, sending its crest
upward in a brilliant
jet-d'eau
, and leaving tons of water on the
decks. Sir Gervaise's manner had now lost every glimmering of
excitement. When he spoke, it was in a gentle, pleasant tone, such as a
gentleman might use in the society of women. The truth was, all his
energy had concentrated in the determination to do a daring deed; and,
as is not unusual with the most resolute men, the nearer he approached
to the consummation of his purpose, the more he seemed to reject all the
spurious aids of manner.

"The French do not open their lower ports, Greenly," observed the
vice-admiral, dropping the glass after one of his long looks at the
enemy, "although they have the advantage of being to leeward. I take
that to be a sign they intend nothing very serious."

"We shall know better five minutes hence, Sir Gervaise. This ship slides
along like a London coach."

"His line is lubberly, after all, Greenly! Look at those two ships
astern—they are near half a mile to windward of the rest of the fleet,
and at least half a mile astern. Hey! Greenly?"

The captain turned towards the rear of the French, and examined the
positions of the two ships mentioned with sufficient deliberation; but
Sir Gervaise dropped his head in a musing manner, and began to pace the
poop again. Once or twice he stopped to look at the rear of the French
line, then distant from him quite a league, and as often did he resume
his walk.

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