The Two Admirals (59 page)

"He that has sailed upon the dark-blue sea,
Has viewed at times, I ween, a full fair sight;
When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be,
The white sail set, the gallant frigate tight;
Mast, spires and strand, retiring to the sight,
The glorious main expanding o'er the bow,
The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight,
The dullest sailer waring bravely now,
So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow."

BYRON.

As Sir Gervaise Oakes' active mind was liable to such sudden mutations
of thought as that described in the close of the last chapter, Greenly
neither smiled, nor dwelt on the subject at all; he simply pointed out
to his superior the fact, that they were now abreast of the Thunderer,
and desired to know whether it was his pleasure to proceed any further.

"To the Carnatic, Greenly, if Sir Wycherly will have the goodness to
shape his course thither. I have a word to say to my friend Parker,
before we sleep to-night. Give us room, however, to look at Morganic's
fancies, for I never pass his ship without learning something new. Lord
Morganic's vessel is a good school for us old fellows to attend—hey!
Greenly?"

"The Achilles is certainly a model vessel in some respects, Sir
Gervaise, though I flatter myself the Plantagenets have no great
occasion to imitate her, in order to gain a character."

"
You
imitate Morganic in order to know how to keep a ship in
order!—Poh! let Morganic come to school to
you
. Yet the fellow is not
bashful in battle neither; keeps his station well, and makes himself
both heard and felt. Ah! there he is, flourishing his hat on the poop,
and wondering what the deuce Sir Jarvy's after, now! Sheer in,
Wychecombe, and let us hear what he has to say."

"Good evening, Sir Gervaise," called out the earl, as usual taking the
initiative
in the discourse; "I was in hopes when I saw your flag in
the boat, that you were going to do me the favour to open a bottle of
claret, and to taste some fruit, I have still standing on the table."

"I thank you, my lord, but business before pleasure. We have not been
idle to-day, though to-morrow shall be still more busy. How does the
Achilles steer; now her foremast is in its place?"

"Yaws like a fellow with his grog aboard, Sir Gervaise, on my honour! We
shall never do any thing with her, until you consent to let us stay her
spars, in our own fashion. Do you intend to send me Daly back, or am I
to play first lieutenant myself, admiral?"

"Daly's shipped for the cruise, and you must do as well as you can
without him. If you find yourself without a second astern, in the course
of the night, do not fancy she has gone to the bottom. Keep good
look-outs, and pay attention to signals."

As Sir Gervaise waved his hand, the young noble did not venture to
reply, much less to ask a question, though there was not a little
speculation on the poop of the Achilles, concerning the meaning of his
words. The boat moved on, and five minutes later Sir Gervaise was on the
quarter-deck of the Carnatic.

Parker received the commander-in-chief, hat in hand, with a solicitude
and anxiety that were constitutional, perhaps, and which no
consciousness of deserving could entirely appease. Habit, however, had
its share in it, since, accustomed to defer to rank from boyhood, and
the architect of his own "little fortune," he had ever attached more
importance to the commendation of his superior, than was usual with
those who had other props to lean on than their own services. As soon as
the honours of the quarter-deck had been duly paid—for these Sir
Gervaise never neglected himself, nor allowed others to neglect—the
vice-admiral intimated to Captain Parker a desire to see him in his
cabin, requesting Greenly and Wycherly to accompany them below.

"Upon my word, Parker," commenced Sir Gervaise, looking around him at
the air of singular domestic comfort that the after-cabin of the ship
presented, "you have the knack of taking a house to sea with you, that
no other captain of the fleet possesses! No finery, no Morganics, but a
plain, wholesome, domestic look, that might make a man believe he was in
his father's house. I would give a thousand pounds if my vagabonds could
give the cabin of the Plantagenet such a Bowldero look, now!"

"Less than a hundred, sir, have done the little you see here. Mrs.
Parker makes it a point to look to those matters, herself, and in that
lies the whole secret, perhaps. A good wife is a great blessing, Sir
Gervaise, though you have never been able to persuade yourself into the
notion, I believe."

"I hardly think, Parker, the wife can do it all. Now there's Stowel,
Bluewater's captain, he is married as well as yourself—nay, by George,
I've heard the old fellow say he had as much wife as any man in his
majesty's service—but
his
cabin looks like a cobbler's barn, and his
state-room like a soldier's bunk! When we were lieutenants together in
the Eurydice, Parker, your state-room had just the same air of comfort
about it that this cabin has at this instant. No—no—it's in the grain,
man, or it would never show itself, in all times and places."

"You forget, Sir Gervaise, that when I had the honour to be your
messmate in the Eurydice, I was a married man."

"I beg your pardon, my old friend; so you were, indeed! Why, that was a
confounded long time ago, hey! Parker?"

"It was, truly, sir; but I was poor, and could not afford the
extravagances of a single life.
I
married for the sake of economy,
Admiral Oakes."

"And love—" answered Sir Gervaise, laughing. "I'll warrant you,
Greenly, that he persuaded Mrs. Parker into that notion, whether true or
not. I'll warrant you, he didn't tell
her
he married for so sneaking a
thing as economy! I should like to see your state-room now, Parker."

"Nothing easier, Sir Gervaise," answered the captain, rising and opening
the door. "Here it is, air, though little worthy the attention of the
owner of Bowldero."

"A notable place, truly!—and with a housewife-look about it that must
certainly remind you of Mrs. Parker—unless, indeed, that picture at the
foot of your cot puts other notions into your head! What young hussy
have you got there, my old Eurydice?—Hey! Parker?"

"That is a picture of my faithful wife, Sir Gervaise; a proper
companion, I hope, of my cruise?"

"Hey! What, that young thing your wife, Parker! How the d—l came she to
have you?"

"Ah, Sir Gervaise, she is a young thing no longer, but is well turned
towards sixty. The picture was taken when she was a bride, and is all
the dearer to me, now that I know the original has shared my fortunes so
long. I never look at it, without remembering, with gratitude, how much
she thinks of me in our cruises, and how often she prays for our
success.
You
are not forgotten, either, sir, in her prayers."

"I!" exclaimed the vice-admiral, quite touched at the earnest simplicity
of the other. "D'ye hear that, Greenly? I'll engage, now, this lady is a
good woman—a really excellent creature—just such another as my poor
sainted mother was, and a blessing to all around her! Give me your hand,
Parker; and when you write next to your wife, tell her from me, God
bless her; and say all you think a man ought to say on such an occasion.
And now to business. Let us seat ourselves in this snug domestic-looking
cabin of yours, and talk our matters over."

The two captains and Wycherly followed the vice-admiral into the
after-cabin, where the latter seated himself on a small sofa, while the
others took chairs, in respectful attitudes near him, no familiarity or
jocularity on the part of a naval superior ever lessening the distance
between him and those who
hold subordinate commissions
—a fact that
legislators would do well to remember, when graduating rank in a
service. As soon as all were placed, Sir Gervaise opened his mind.

"I have a delicate piece of duty, Captain Parker," he commenced, "which
I wish entrusted to yourself. You must know that we handled the ship
which escaped us this morning by running down into her own line, pretty
roughly, in every respect; besides cutting two of her masts out of her.
This ship, as you may have seen, has got up jury-masts, already; but
they are spars that can only be intended to carry her into port.
Monsieur de Vervillin is not the man I take him to be, if he intends to
leave the quarrel between us where it is. Still he cannot keep that
crippled ship in his fleet, any more than we can keep our prize, and I
make no doubt he will send her off to Cherbourg as soon as it is dark;
most probably accompanied by one of his corvettes; or perhaps by a
frigate."

"Yes, Sir Gervaise," returned Parker, thoughtfully, as soon as his
superior ceased to speak; "what you predict, is quite likely to happen."

"It
must
happen, Parker, the wind blowing directly for his haven. Now,
you may easily imagine what I want of the Carnatic."

"I suppose I understand you, sir;—and yet, if I might presume to
express a wish—"

"Speak out, old boy—you're talking to a friend. I have chosen you to
serve you, both as one I like, and as the oldest captain in the fleet.
Whoever catches that ship will hear more of it."

"Very true, sir; but are we not likely to have more work, here? and
would it be altogether prudent to send so fine a ship as the Carnatic
away, when the enemy will count ten to six, even if she remain?"

"All this has been thought of; and I suppose your own feeling has been
anticipated. You think it will be more honourable to your vessel, to
keep her place in the line, than to take a ship already half beaten."

"That's it, indeed, Sir Gervaise. I do confess some such thoughts were
crossing my mind."

"Then see how easy it is to rose them out of it. I cannot fight the
French, in this moderate weather, without a reinforcement. When the rear
joins, we shall be just ten to ten, without you, and with you, should be
eleven to ten. Now, I confess, I don't wish the least odds, and shall
send away somebody; especially when I feel certain a noble two-decked
ship will be the reward. If a frigate accompany the crippled fellow,
you'll have your hands full, and a very fair fight; and should you get
either, it will be a handsome thing. What say you
now
, Parker?"

"I begin to think better of the plan, Sir Gervaise, and am grateful for
the selection. I wish, however, I knew your own precise wishes—I've
always found it safe to follow them, sir."

"Here they are, then. Get four or five sets of the sharpest eyes you
have, and send them aloft to keep a steady look on your chap, while
there is light enough to be certain of him. In a little while, they'll
be able to recognise him in the dark; and by keeping your night-glasses
well levelled, he can scarcely slip off, without your missing him. The
moment he is gone, ware short round, and make the best of your way for
Cape la Hogue, or Alderney; you will go three feet to his two, and, my
life on it, by day-light you'll have him to windward of you, and then
you'll be certain of him. Wait for no signals from me, but be off, as
soon as it is dark. When your work is done, make the best of your way to
the nearest English port, and clap a Scotchman on your shoulder to keep
the king's sword from chafing it. They thought me fit for knighthood at
three-and-twenty, and the deuce is in it, Parker, if you are not worthy
of it at three-and-sixty!"

"Ah! Sir Gervaise, every thing you undertook succeeded! You never yet
failed in any expedition."

"That has come from attempting much. My
plans
have often failed; but
as something good has generally followed from them, I have the credit of
designing to do, exactly what I've done."

Then followed a long, detailed discourse, on the subject before them, in
which Greenly joined; the latter making several useful suggestions to
the veteran commander of the Carnatic. After passing quite an hour in
the cabin of Parker, Sir Gervaise took his leave and re-entered his
barge. It was now so dark that small objects could not be distinguished
a hundred yards, and the piles of ships, as the boat glided past them,
resembled black hillocks, with clouds floating among their tree-like and
waving spars. No captain presumed to hail the commander-in-chief, as he
rowed down the line, again, with the exception of the peer of the realm.
He indeed had always something to say; and, as he had been conjecturing
what could induce the vice-admiral to pay so long a visit to the
Carnatic, he could not refrain from uttering as much aloud, when he
heard the measured stroke of the oars from the returning barge.

"We shall all be jealous of this compliment to Captain Parker, Sir
Gervaise," he called out, "unless your favours are occasionally extended
to some of us less worthy ones."

"Ay—ay—Morganic, you'll be remembered in proper time. In the mean
while, keep your people's eyes open, so as not to lose sight of the
French. We shall have something to say to them in the morning."

"Spare us a night-action, if possible, Sir Gervaise! I do detest
fighting when sleepy; and I like to see my enemy, too. As much as you
please in the day-time; but a quiet night, I do beseech you, sir."

"I'll warrant you, now, if the opera, or Ranelagh, or a drum, or a
masquerade, were inviting you, Morganic, you'd think but little of your
pillow!" answered Sir Gervaise, drily; "whatever you do yourself, my
lord, don't let the Achilles get asleep on duty; I may have need of her
to-morrow. Give way, Wychecombe, give way, and let us get home again."

In fifteen minutes from that instant, Sir Gervaise was once more on the
poop of the Plantagenet, and the barge in its place on deck. Greenly was
attending to the duties of his ship, and Bunting stood in readiness to
circulate such orders as it might suit the commander-in-chief to give.