The Two Admirals (54 page)

It was not long before the Druid was within a hundred fathoms of the
flag-ship, on her weather-quarter, shoving the brine before her in a way
to denote a fearful momentum. It was evidently the intention of Captain
Blewet to cross the Plantagenet's stern, and to luff up under her lee
quarter; the safest point at which he could approach, in so heavy a
swell, provided it were done with discretion. Captain Blewet had a
reputation for handling his frigate like a boat, and the occasion was
one which would be likely to awaken all his desire to sustain the
character he had already earned. Still no one could imagine how he was
to come near enough to make a communication of any length. The
stentorian lungs of the second lieutenant, however, might effect it;
and, as the news of the expected hail passed through the ship, many who
had remained below, in apathy, while the enemy was close under their
lee, came on deck, curious to witness what was about to pass.

"Hey! Atwood?" exclaimed Sir Gervaise, for the little excitement had
brought the secretary up from the commander-in-chief's cabin;—"what is
Blewet at! The fellow cannot mean to set a studding-sail!"

"He is running out a boom, nevertheless, Sir Gervaise, or my thirty
years' experience of nautical things have been thrown away."

"He is truly rigging out his weather fore-topmast-studding-sail-boom,
sir!" added Greenly, in a tone of wonder.

"It
is
out," rejoined the vice-admiral, as one would give emphasis to
the report of a calamity. "Hey!—what? Isn't that a man they're running
up to the end of it, Bunting? Level your glass, and let us know at
once."

"A glass is not necessary to make out that much, Sir Gervaise. It is a
man, beyond a doubt, and there he hangs at the boom-end, as if sentenced
by a general court-martial."

Sir Gervaise now suppressed every expression of surprise, and his
reserve was imitated, quite as a matter of course, by the twenty
officers, who, by this time, had assembled on the poop. The Druid,
keeping away, approached rapidly, and had soon crossed the flag-ship's
wake. Here she came by the wind, and favoured by the momentum with which
she had come down, and the addition of the main-sail, drew heavily but
steadily up on her lee-quarter. Both vessels being close-hauled, it was
not difficult steering; and by watching the helms closely, it would have
been possible, perhaps, notwithstanding the heavy sea, to have brought
the two hulls within ten yards of each other, and no harm should come of
it. This was nearer, however, than it was necessary to approach; the
studding-sail-boom, with the man suspended on the end of it, projecting
twice that distance, beyond the vessel's bows. Still it was nice work;
and while yet some thirty or forty feet from the perpendicular, the man
on the boom-end made a sign for attention, swung a coil of line he hold,
and when he saw hands raised to catch it, he made a cast. A lieutenant
caught the rope, and instantly hauled in the slack. As the object was
now understood, a dozen others laid hold of the line, and, at a common
signal, when those on board the Plantagenet hauled in strongly, the
people of the Druid lowered away. By this simple, but united movement,
the man descended obliquely, leaping out of the bowline in which he had
sat, and casting the whip adrift. Shaking himself to gain his footing,
he raised his cap and bowed to Sir Gervaise, who now saw Wycherly
Wychecombe on his poop.

"Yet weep not thou—the struggle is not o'er,
O victors of Philippi! many a field
Hath yielded palms to us:—one effort more,
By one stern conflict must our fate be sealed."

MRS. HEMANS.

As soon as the people of the Plantagenet, who had so far trespassed on
discipline, when they perceived a man hanging at the end of the
studding-sail-boom, as to appear in the rigging, on the booms, and on
the guns, to watch the result, saw the stranger safely landed on the
poop, they lifted their hats and caps, and, as one voice, greeted him
with three cheers. The officers smiled at this outbreak of feeling, and
the violation of usage was forgotten; the rigid discipline of a
man-of-war even, giving way occasionally to the sudden impulses of
natural feeling.

As the Druid approached the flag-ship, Captain Blewet had appeared in
her weather mizzen-rigging, conning his vessel in person; and the order
to luff, or keep off, had been given by his own voice, or by a gesture
of his own hand. As soon as he saw Wycherly's feet on the poop of the
Plantagenet, and his active form freed from the double-bowline, in which
it had been seated, the captain made a wide sweep of the arm, to denote
his desire to edge away; the helm of the frigate was borne up hard, and,
as the two-decker surged ahead on the bosom of a sea, the Druid's bows
were knocked off to leeward, leaving a space of about a hundred feet, or
more, between the two ships, as it might be, in an instant. The same
causes continuing to operate, the Plantagenet drove still farther ahead,
while the frigate soon came to the wind again, a cable's-length to
leeward, and abreast of the space between the admiral and his second,
astern. Here, Captain Blewet seemed disposed to wait for further orders.

Sir Gervaise Oakes was not accustomed to betray any surprise he might
feel at little events that occurred on duty. He returned the bow of
Wycherly, coolly, and then, without question or play of feature, turned
his eyes on the further movements of the Druid. Satisfied that all was
right with the frigate, he directed the messenger to follow him, and
went below himself, leaving Wycherly to obey as fast as the many
inquiries he had to answer as he descended the ladders would allow.
Atwood, an interested observer of what had passed, noted that Captain
Greenly, of all present, was the only person who seemed indifferent to
the nature of the communication the stranger might bring, though perhaps
the only one entitled by rank to put an interrogatory.

"You have come aboard of us in a novel and extraordinary mode, Sir
Wycherly Wychecombe!" observed the vice-admiral, a little severely, as
soon as he found himself in his own cabin, alone with the lieutenant.

"It was the plan of Captain Blewet, sir, and was really the only one
that seemed likely to succeed, for a boat could scarcely live. I trust
the success of the experiment, and the nature of the communications I
may bring, will be thought sufficient excuses for the want of ceremony."

"It is the first time, since the days of the Conqueror, I fancy, that an
English vice-admiral's ship has been boarded so cavalierly; but, as you
say, the circumstances may justify the innovation. What is your errand,
sir?"

"This letter, I presume, Sir Gervaise, will explain itself. I have
little to say in addition, except to report that the Druid has sprung
her foremast in carrying sail to close with you, and that we have not
lost a moment since Admiral Bluewater ordered us to part company with
himself."

"You sailed on board the Cæsar, then?" asked Sir Gervaise, a great deal
mollified by the zeal for service in a youth, situated ashore, as he
knew Wycherly to be. "You left her, with this letter?"

"I did, Sir Gervaise, at Admiral Bluewater's command."

"Did you go aboard the Druid boom-fashion, or was that peculiar style
reserved for the commander-in-chief?"

"I left the Cæsar in a boat, Sir Gervaise; and though we were much
nearer in with the coast, where the wind has not the rake it has here,
and the strength of the gale had not then come, we were nearly swamped."

"If a true Virginian, you would not have drowned, Wychecombe," answered
the vice-admiral, in better humour. "You Americans swim like cork.
Excuse me, while I read what Admiral Bluewater has to say."

Sir Gervaise had received Wycherly in the great cabin, standing at the
table which was lashed in its centre. He would have been puzzled
himself, perhaps, to have given the real reason why he motioned to the
young man to take a chair, while he went into what he called his
"drawing-room;" or the beautiful little apartment between the two
state-rooms, aft, which was fitted with an elegance that might have been
admired in a more permanent dwelling, and whither he always withdrew
when disposed to reflection. It was probably connected, however, with a
latent apprehension of the rear-admiral's political bias, for, when by
himself, he paused fully a minute before he opened the letter.
Condemning this hesitation as unmanly, he broke the seal, however, and
read the contents of a letter, which was couched in the following terms:

"My dear Oakes:—Since we parted, my mind has undergone some
violent misgivings as to the course duty requires of me, in this
great crisis. One hand—one heart—one voice even, may decide the
fate of England! In such circumstances, all should listen to the
voice of conscience, and endeavour to foresee the consequences of
their own acts. Confidential agents are in the west of England, and
one of them I have seen. By his communications I find more depends
on myself than I could have imagined, and more on the movements of
M. de Vervillin. Do not be too sanguine—take time for your own
decisions, and grant
me
time; for I feel like a wretch whose fate
must soon be sealed. On no account engage, because you think this
division near enough to sustain you, but at least keep off until
you hear from me more positively, or we can meet. I find it equally
hard to strike a blow against my rightful prince, or to desert my
friend. For God's sake act prudently, and depend on seeing me in
the course of the next twenty-four hours. I shall keep well to the
eastward, in the hope of falling in with you, as I feel satisfied
de Vervillin has nothing to do very far west. I may send some
verbal message by the bearer, for my thoughts come sluggishly, and
with great reluctance.

"Ever
yours
,
"RICHARD BLUEWATER."

Sir Gervaise Oakes read this letter twice with great deliberation; then
he crushed it in his hand, as one would strangle a deadly serpent. Not
satisfied with this manifestation of distaste, he tore the letter into
pieces so small as to render it impossible to imagine its contents,
opened a cabin-window, and threw the fragments into the ocean. When he
fancied that every sign of his friend's weakness had thus been
destroyed, he began to pace the cabin in his usual manner. Wycherly
heard his step, and wondered at the delay; but his duty compelled him to
pass an uncomfortable half-hour in silence, ere the door opened, and Sir
Gervaise appeared. The latter had suppressed the signs of distress,
though the lieutenant could perceive he was unusually anxious.

"Did the rear-admiral send any message, Sir Wycherly?" inquired Sir
Gervaise; "in his letter he would seem to refer me to some verbal
explanations from yourself."

"I am ashamed to say, sir, none that I can render very intelligible.
Admiral Bluewater, certainly, did make a few communications that I was
to repeat, but when we had parted, by some extraordinary dullness of my
own I fear, I find it is out of my power to give them any very great
distinctness or connection."

"Perhaps the fault is less your own, sir, than his. Bluewater is
addicted to fits of absence of mind, and then he has no reason to
complain that others do not understand him, for he does not always
understand himself."

Sir Gervaise said this with a little glee, delighted at finding his
friend had not committed himself to his messenger. The latter, however,
was less disposed to excuse himself by such a process, inasmuch as he
felt certain that the rear-admiral's feelings were in the matter he
communicated, let the manner have been what it might.

"I do not think we can attribute any thing to Admiral Bluewater's
absence of mind, on this occasion, sir," answered Wycherly, with
generous frankness. "His feelings appeared to be strongly enlisted in
what he said. It might have been owing to the strength of these feelings
that he was a little obscure, but it could not have been owing to
indifference."

"I shall best understand the matter, then, by hearing what he did say,
sir."

Wycherly paused, and endeavoured to recall what had passed, in a way to
make it intelligible.

"I was frequently told to caution you not to engage the French, sir,
until the other division had closed, and was ready to assist. But,
really, whether this was owing to some secret information that the
rear-admiral had obtained, or to a natural desire to have a share in the
battle, is more than I can say."

"Each may have had its influence. Was any allusion made to secret
intelligence, that you name it?"

"I never felt more cause to be ashamed of my own dullness, than at this
present moment, Sir Gervaise Oakes," exclaimed Wycherly, who almost
writhed under the awkwardness of his situation; for he really began to
suspect that his own personal grounds of unhappiness had induced him to
forget some material part of his message;—"recent events ashore, had
perhaps disqualified me for this duty."

"It is natural it should be so, my young friend; and as I am acquainted
with them all, you can rest satisfied with my indulgence."

"All! no—Sir Gervaise, you know not half—but, I forget myself, sir,
and beg your pardon."

"I have no wish to pry into your secrets, Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, and
we will drop the subject. You may say, however, if the rear-admiral was
in good spirits—as an English seaman is apt to be, with the prospect of
a great battle before him."

"I thought not, Sir Gervaise. Admiral Bluewater to me seemed sad, if I
may presume to mention it—almost to tears, I thought, sir, one or
twice."

"Poor Dick!" mentally ejaculated the vice-admiral; "he never could have
made up his mind to desert
me
without great anguish of soul. Was there
any thing said," speaking aloud, "about the fleet of M. de Vervillin?"