The Two Admirals (61 page)

"Ay—ay, sir," answered the captain in the sailor's usual manner;
"
that
has been seen to already, as I have expected as much. Admiral
Bluewater keeps his ships in most beautiful order, sir! I do not think
the Cæsar, which leads, is two cable's-length from the Dublin, the
sternmost vessel. He is driving four-in-hand, with a tight rein, too,
depend on it, sir."

At this instant, Sir Gervaise came out of his state-room, his coat in
his hand, and with a countenance that was thoughtful. He finished
dressing with an abstracted air, and would not have known the last
garment was on, had not Galleygo given a violent pull on its skirts, in
order to smooth the cloth about the shoulders.

"It is odd, that Bluewater should come down nearly before the wind, in a
line ahead, and not in a line abreast!" Sir Gervaise rejoined, as his
steward did this office for him.

"Let Admiral Blue alone, for doing what's right," put in Galleygo, in
his usual confident and sell-possessed manner. "By keeping his ships
astern of hisself, he can tell where to find 'em, and we understands
from experience, if Admiral Blue knows where to find a ship, he knows
how to use her."

Instead of rebuking this interference, which went a little further than
common, Greenly was surprised to see the vice-admiral look his steward
intently in the face, as if the man had expressed some shrewd and
comprehensive truth. Then turning to his captain, Sir Gervaise intimated
an intention of going on deck to survey the state of things with his own
eyes.

"
Thou
shouldst have died, O high-soul'd chief!
In those bright days of glory fled,
When triumph so prevailed o'er grief,
We scarce would mourn the dead."

MRS. HEMANS.

The eventful day opened with most of the glories of a summer's morning.
The wind alone prevented it from being one of the finest sun-risings of
July. That continued fresh, at north-west, and, consequently, cool for
the season. The seas of the south-west gale had entirely subsided, and
were already succeeded by the regular but comparatively trilling swell
of the new breeze. For large ships, it might be called smooth water;
though the Driver and Active showed by their pitching and unsteadiness,
and even the two-deckers, by their waving masts, that the unquiet ocean
was yet in motion. The wind seemed likely to stand, and was what seamen
would be apt to call a good six-knot breeze.

To leeward, still distant about a league, lay the French vessels, drawn
up in beautiful array, and in an order so close, and a line so regular,
as to induce the belief that M. de Vervillin had made his dispositions
to receive the expected attack, in his present position. All his
main-top-sails lay flat aback; the top-gallant-sails were flying loose,
but with buntlings and clew-lines hauled up; the jibs were fluttering to
leeward of their booms, and the courses were hanging in festoons beneath
their yards. This was gallant fighting-canvass, and it excited the
admiration of even his enemies. To increase this feeling, just as Sir
Gervaise's foot reached the poop, the whole French line displayed their
ensigns, and
le Foudroyant
fired a gun to windward.

"Hey! Greenly?" exclaimed the English commander-in-chief; "this is a
manly defiance, and coming from M. de Vervillin, it means something! He
wishes to take the day for it; though, as I think half that time will
answer, we will wash up the cups before we go at it. Make the signals,
Bunting, for the ships to heave-to, and then to get their breakfasts, as
fast as possible. Steady breeze—steady breeze, Greenly, and all we
want!"

Five minutes later, while Sir Gervaise was running his eye over the
signal-book, the Plantagenet's calls were piping the people to their
morning meal, at least an hour earlier than common; the people repaired
to their messes, with a sort of stern joy; every man in the ship
understanding the reason of a summons so unusual. The calls of the
vessels astern were heard soon after, and one of the officers who was
watching the enemy with a glass, reported that he thought the French
were breakfasting, also. Orders being given to the officers to employ
the next half hour in the same manner, nearly everybody was soon engaged
in eating; few thinking that the meal might probably be their last. Sir
Gervaise felt a concern, which he succeeded in concealing, however, at
the circumstance that the ships to windward made no more sail; though he
refrained from signalling the rear-admiral to that effect, from
tenderness to his friend, and a vague apprehension of what might be the
consequences. While the crews were eating, he stood gazing,
thoughtfully, at the noble spectacle the enemy offered, to leeward,
occasionally turning wistful glances at the division that was constantly
drawing nearer to windward. At length Greenly, himself, reported that
the Plantagenet had "turned the hands-to," again. At this intelligence,
Sir Gervaise started, as from a reverie, smiled, and spoke. We will here
remark, that now, as on the previous day, all the natural excitability
of manner had disappeared from the commander-in-chief, and he was quiet,
and exceedingly gentle in his deportment. This, all who knew him,
understood to denote a serious determination to engage.

"I have desired Galleygo to set my little table, half an hour hence, in
the after-cabin, Greenly, and you will share the meal with me. Sir
Wycherly will be of our party, and I hope it will not be the last time
we may meet at the same board. It is necessary every thing should be in
fighting-order to-day!"

"So I understand it, Sir Gervaise. We are ready to begin, as soon as the
order shall be received."

"Wait one moment until Bunting comes up from his breakfast. Ah! here he
is, and we are quite ready for him, having bent-on the signal in his
absence. Show the order, Bunting; for the day advances."

The little flags were fluttering at the main-top-gallant-mast-head of
the Plantagenet in less than one minute, and in another it was repeated
by the Chloe, Driver, and Active, all of which were lying-to, a quarter
of a mile to windward, charged in particular with this, among other
duties. So well was this signal known, that not a book in the fleet was
consulted, but all the ships answered, the instant the flags could be
seen and understood. Then the shrill whistles were heard along the line,
calling "All hands" to "clear ship for action, ahoy!"

No sooner was this order given in the Plantagenet, than the ship became
a scene of active but orderly exertion. The top-men were on the yards,
stoppering, swinging the yards in chains, and lashing, in order to
prevent shot from doing more injury than was unavoidable; bulwarks were
knocked down; mess-chest, bags, and all other domestic appliances,
disappeared
below
,
[3]
and the decks were cleared of every thing which
could be removed, and which would not be necessary in an engagement.
Fully a quarter of an hour was thus occupied, for there was no haste,
and as it was no moment of mere parade, it was necessary that the work
should be effectually done. The officers forbade haste, and nothing
important was reported as effected, that some one in authority did not
examine with his own eyes, to see that no proper care had been
neglected. Then Mr. Bury, the first lieutenant, went on the main-yard,
in person, to look at the manner in which it had been slung, while he
sent the boatswain up forward, on the same errand. These were unusual
precautions, but the word had passed through the ship "that Sir Jarvy
was in earnest;" and whenever it was known that "Sir Jarvy" was in such
a humour, every one understood that the day's work was to be hard, if
not long.

"Our breakfast is ready, Sir Jarvy," reported Galleygo, "and as the
decks is all clear, the b'ys can make a clean run of it from the
coppers. I only wants to know when to serve it, your honour."

"Serve it now, my good fellow. Tell the Bowlderos to be nimble, and
expect us below. Come, Greenly—come, Wychecombe—we are the last to
eat—let us not be the last at our stations."

"Ship's clear, sir," reported Bury to his captain, as the three reached
the quarter-deck, on their way to the cabin.

"Very well, Bury; when the fleet is signalled to go to quarters, we will
obey with the rest."

As this was said, Greenly looked at the vice-admiral to catch his
wishes. But Sir Gervaise had no intention of fatiguing his people
unnecessarily. He had left his private orders with Bunting, and he
passed down without an answer or a glance. The arrangements in the
after-cabin were as snug and as comfortable as if the breakfast-table
had been set in a private house, and the trio took their seats and
commenced operations with hearty good will. The vice-admiral ordered the
doors thrown open, and as the port-lids were up, from the place where he
sat he could command glimpses, both to leeward and to windward, that
included a view of the enemy, as well as one of his own expected
reinforcements. The Bowlderos were in full livery, and more active and
attentive than usual even. Their station in battle—for no man on board
a vessel of war is an "
idler
" in a combat—was on the poop, as
musketeers, near the person of their master, whose colours they wore,
under the ensign of their prince, like vassals of an ancient baron.
Notwithstanding the crisis of the morning, however, these men performed
their customary functions with the precision and method of English
menials, omitting no luxury or usage of the table. On a sofa behind the
table, was spread the full dress-coat of a vice-admiral, then a neat but
plain uniform, without either lace or epaulettes, but decorated with a
rich star in brilliants, the emblem of the order of the Bath. This coat
Sir Gervaise always wore in battle, unless the weather rendered a
"storm-uniform," as he used to term a plainer attire, necessary.

The breakfast passed off pleasantly, the gentlemen eating as if no
momentous events were near. Just at its close, however, Sir Gervaise
leaned forward, and looking through one of the weather-ports of the
main-cabin, an expression of pleasure illuminated his countenance, as he
said—

"Ah! there go Bluewater's signals, at last!—a certain proof that he is
about to put himself in communication with us."

"I have been a good deal surprised, sir," observed Greenly, a little
drily, though with great respect of manner, "that you have not ordered
the rear-admiral to make more sail. He is jogging along like a heavy
wagon, and yet I hardly think he can mistake these five ships for
Frenchmen!"

"He is never in a hurry, and no doubt wishes to let
his
crews
breakfast, before he closes. I'll warrant ye, now, gentlemen, that his
ships are at this moment all as clear as a church five minutes after the
blessing has been pronounced."

"It will not be one of our Virginian churches, then, Sir Gervaise,"
observed Wycherly, smiling; "
they
serve for an exchange, to give and
receive news in, after the service is over."

"Ay, that's the old rule—first pray, and then gossip. Well, Bunting,
what does the rear-admiral say?"

"Upon my word, Sir Gervaise, I can make nothing of the signal, though it
is easy enough to make out the flags," answered the puzzled
signal-officer. "Will you have the goodness to look at the book
yourself, sir. The number is one hundred and forty."

"One hundred and forty! Why, that must have something to do with
anchoring!—ay, here it is. 'Anchor, I cannot, having lost my cables.'
Who the devil asked him to anchor?"

"That's just it, sir. The signal-officer on board the Cæsar must have
made some mistake in his flags; for, though the distance is
considerable, our glasses are good enough to read them."

"Perhaps Admiral Bluewater has set the private, personal, telegraph at
work, sir," quietly observed Greenly.

The commander-in-chief actually changed colour at this suggestion. His
face, at first, flushed to crimson; then it became pale, like the
countenance of one who suffered under acute bodily pain. Wycherly
observed this, and respectfully inquired if Sir Gervaise were ill.

"I thank you, young sir," answered the vice-admiral, smiling painfully;
"it is over. I believe I shall have to go into dock, and let Magrath
look at some of my old hurts, which
are
sometimes troublesome. Mr.
Bunting, do me the favour to go on deck, and ascertain, by a careful
examination, if a short red pennant be not set some ten or twelve feet
above the uppermost flag. Now, Greenly, we will take the other cup of
tea, for there is plenty of leisure."

Two or three brooding minutes followed. Then Bunting returned to say the
pennant
was
there, a fact he had quite overlooked in his former
observations, confounding the narrow flag in question with the regular
pennant of the king. This short red pennant denoted that the
communication was verbal, according to a method invented by Bluewater
himself, and by means of which, using the ordinary numbers, he was
enabled to communicate with his friend, without any of the captains, or,
indeed, without Sir Gervaise's own signal-officer's knowing what was
said. In a word, without having recourse to any new flags, but, by
simply giving new numbers to the old ones, and referring to a prepared
dictionary, it was possible to hold a conversation in sentences, that
should be a secret to all but themselves. Sir Gervaise took down the
number of the signal that was flying, and directed Bunting to show the
answering flag, with a similar pennant over it, and to continue this
operation so long as the rear-admiral might make his signals. The
numbers were to be sent below as fast as received. As soon as Bunting
disappeared, the vice-admiral unlocked a secretary, the key of which was
never out of his own possession, took from it a small dictionary, and
laid it by his plate. All this time the breakfast proceeded, signals of
this nature frequently occurring between the two admirals. In the course
of the next ten minutes, a quarter-master brought below a succession of
numbers written on small pieces of paper; after which Bunting appeared
himself to say that the Cæsar had stopped signalling.