A trifling incident occurred shortly afterwards, which recalled to our thoughts another important service of Sir Samuel Hood's, which, although it be familiarly known in the navy, may not be so fresh in the recollection of persons on shore. A question arose in the boat as to whether or not the land-wind was blowing. Some said there was a breeze up the river, while others maintained that the wind blew down, towards the sea. The Admiral let us go on speculating and arguing for some time, and then said, "You are both wrong; there is not a breath of air either up or down the river. At all events we shall soon see, if you will strike me a light." This was done accordingly; and the Admiral, standing on the after-thwart, held the naked candle high over his head, while the men ceased rowing.
"There, you see," exclaimed he, "the flame stands quite upright, which proves, that if there be any breeze at all, it blows no faster than the stream runs down."
As he yet spoke, the flame bent from the land, and in the next instant was puffed out by a slight gust from the forest.
"Ay! that's something like!" exclaimed the commander-in-chief; adding, in an under tone, as he resumed his seat, "I have known the time when a flaw of wind, not greater than has just blown out this candle, has rendered good service to his Majesty." This was the incident to which he alluded:—
Early in the year 1794, when Captain Hood commanded his Majesty's ship Juno, the port of Toulon, though in possession of the English at the time of his departure on a short trip to Malta, had been evacuated while the Juno was absent; and as the land was made in the night, no suspicion of that important change of affairs arose in the mind of any one. With his wonted decision, therefore, into the port he dashed; for, although the Juno carried no pilot, Captain Hood's knowledge of every port he had once visited rendered him comparatively indifferent on that score. A couple of the sharpest-sighted midshipmen were stationed with glasses to look out for the fleet; but no ships were seen—for the best of all reasons—none were there!
One vessel only, a small brig, could be detected, and the captain, supposing the fleet had run into the inner harbour during the recent easterly gale, resolved to push up likewise. The batteries all kept quiet, and though the brig hailed the frigate as she passed in a language so indistinct that no one could make it out, not the least suspicion was excited. Supposing they wanted to know what ship it was, I told them it was the Juno. The brig, however, was not quite so courteous in return; for they merely replied by the word "Viva," but made no answer to the captain's repeated inquiry as to the brig's name, and the position of the British fleet. As the Juno passed under the stern of this treacherous little craft, a voice called out, "Luff! luff!" which naturally induced Captain Hood to put his helm down, from an idea that shoal water lay close to leeward of him. Nothing could have been more adroitly managed, for before the frigate came head to wind, she stuck fast upon the shoal, to which the words "Luff, luff!" had no doubt been intended to direct her.
A boat was now observed to proceed from the brig to the town. As there was but little wind, and the water perfectly smooth, the Juno's sails were clewed up and handed; but before the men were all off the yards, a gust of wind came sweeping down the harbour, and drove her off the shoal so suddenly as to give her brisk stern-way. The anchor was speedily let go, but when she tended, the after-part of her keel took the ground, and the rudder could not be moved. The launch and cutter being instantly hoisted out, the usual preparations were made to lay out a kedge, to heave the ship off.
At this critical moment a boat came alongside. The people appeared anxious to get out of her, and two of them, apparently officers, came up the side. They said it was the regulation of the port, as well as the commanding officer's orders, that ships should go further into the harbour, there to perform ten days' quarantine. In the despatch relating this transaction, Captain Hood says, "I kept asking them where Lord Hood's ship lay;" the two Frenchmen knew not what to do or say next. In the mean time, one of the mids, who happened to be thrusting his head forward after the investigating manner of this enterprising class of officers, said apart to the captain,—
"Why, sir, they wear national cockades!"
"I looked at one of their hats more steadfastly," says Captain Hood in his narrative, "and by the moonlight clearly distinguished the three colours."