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 grat.i.tude, 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, G.o.d 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 att.i.tudes 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 antic.i.p.ated. 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 n.o.ble 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-gla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sing 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 p.o.o.p 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.

It was now nine o'clock, and it was not easy to distinguish objects on the ocean, even as large as a ship, at the distance of half a league. By the aid of the gla.s.ses, however, a vigilant look-out was kept on the French vessels, which, by this time, were quite two leagues distant, drawing more ahead. It was necessary to fill away, in order to close with them, and a night-signal was made to that effect. The whole British line braced forward their main-yards, as it might be, by a common impulse, and had there been one there of sufficiently acute senses, he might have heard all six of the main-top-sails flapping at the same instant. As a matter of course the vessels started ahead, and, the order being to follow the vice-admiral in a close line ahead, when the Plantagenet edged off, so as to bring the wind abeam, each vessel did the same, in succession, or as soon as in the commander-in-chief's wake, as if guided by instinct. About ten minutes later, the Carnatic, to the surprise of those who witnessed the man[oe]uvre in the Achilles, wore short round, and set studding-sails on her starboard side, steering large. The darkest portion of the horizon being that which lay to the eastward, or, in the direction of the continent, in twenty minutes the pyramid of her shadowy outline was swallowed in the gloom. All this time, la Victoire, with the Druid leading and towing, kept upon a bowline; and an hour later, when Sir Gervaise found himself abeam of the French line again, and half a league to windward of it, no traces were to be seen of the three ships last mentioned.

"So far, all goes well, gentlemen," observed the vice-admiral to the group around him on the p.o.o.p; "and we will now try to count the enemy, to make certain _he_, too, has no stragglers out to pick up waifs.

Greenly, try that gla.s.s; it is set for the night, and your eyes are the best we have. Be particular in looking for the fellow under jury-masts."

"I make out but ten ships in the line, Sir Gervaise," answered the captain, after a long examination; "of course the crippled ship must have gone to leeward. Of _her_, certainly, I can find no traces."

"You will oblige me, Sir Wycherly, by seeing what _you_ can make out, in the same way."

After a still longer examination than that of the captain, Wycherly made the same report, adding that he thought he also missed the frigate that had been nearest le Foudroyant, repeating her signals throughout the day. This circ.u.mstance gratified Sir Gervaise, as he was pleased to find his prognostics came true, and he was not sorry to be rid of one of the enemy's light cruisers; a species of vessel that often proved embarra.s.sing, after a decided affair, even to the conqueror.

"I think, Sir Gervaise," Wycherly modestly added, "that the French have boarded their tacks, and are pressing up to windward to near us. Did it not appear so to you, Captain Greenly?"

"Not at all. If they carry courses, the sails have been set within the last five minutes--ha! Sir Gervaise, that is an indication of a busy night!"

As he spoke. Greenly pointed to the place where the French admiral was known to be, where at that instant appeared a double row of lights; proving that the batteries had their lanterns lit, and showing a disposition to engage. In less than a minute the whole French line was to be traced along the sea, by the double rows of illumination, the light resembling that which is seen through the window of a room that has a bright fire, rather than one in which lamps or candles are actually visible. As this was just the species of engagement in which the English had much to risk, and little to gain, Sir Gervaise immediately gave orders to brace forward the yards, to board fore-and-main tacks, and to set top-gallant-sails. As a matter of course, the ships astern made sail in the same manner, and hauled up on taut bowlines, following the admiral.

"This is not our play," coolly remarked Sir Gervaise; "a crippled ship would drop directly into their arms and as for any success at long-shot, in a two-to-one fight, it is not to be looked for. No--no--Monsieur de Vervillin, show us your teeth if you will, and a pretty sight it is, but you do not draw a shot from me. I hope the order to show no lights is duly attended to."

"I do not think there is a light visible from any ship in the fleet, Sir Gervaise," answered Bunting, "though we are so near, there can be no great difficulty in telling where we are."

"All but the Carnatic and the prize, Bunting. The more fuss they make with us, the less will they think of them."

It is probable the French admiral had been deceived by the near approach of his enemy, for whose prowess he had a profound respect. He had made his preparations in expectation of an attack, but he did not open his fire, although heavy shot would certainly have told with effect.

Indisposed to the uncertainty of a night-action, he declined bringing it on, and the lights disappeared from his ports an hour later; at that time the English ships, by carrying sail harder than was usual in so stiff a breeze, found themselves out of gun-shot, on the weather-bow of their enemies. Then, and not till then, did Sir Gervaise reduce his canva.s.s, having, by means of his gla.s.ses, first ascertained that the French had again hauled up their courses, and were moving along at a very easy rate of sailing.

It was now near midnight, and Sir Gervaise prepared to go below.

Previously to quitting the deck, however, he gave very explicit orders to Greenly, who transmitted them to the first lieutenant, that officer or the captain intending to be on the look-out through the night; the movements of the whole squadron being so dependent on those of the flag ship. The vice-admiral then retired, and went coolly to bed. He was not a man to lose his rest, because an enemy was just out of gun-shot.

Accustomed to be man[oe]uvring in front of hostile fleets, the situation had lost its novelty, and he had so much confidence in the practice of his captains, that he well knew nothing could occur so long as his orders were obeyed; to doubt the latter would have been heresy in his eyes. In professional nonchalance, no man exceeded our vice-admiral.

Blow high, or blow low, it never disturbed the economy of his cabin-life, beyond what unavoidably was connected with the comfort of his ship; nor did any prospect of battle cause a meal to vary a minute in time or a particle in form, until the bulk-heads were actually knocked down, and the batteries were cleared for action. Although excitable in trifles, and sometimes a little irritable, Sir Gervaise, in the way of his profession, was a great man on great occasions. His temperament was sanguine, and his spirit both decided and bold; and, in common with all such men who see the truth at all, when he did see it, he saw it so clearly, as to throw all the doubts that beset minds of a less masculine order into the shade. On the present occasion, he was sure nothing could well occur to disturb his rest; and he took it with the composure of one on _terra-firma_, and in the security of peace.

Unlike those who are unaccustomed to scenes of excitement, he quietly undressed himself, and his head was no sooner on its pillow, than he fell into a profound sleep.