“Cousin Simple,” said the captain, good-naturedly, “you have no occasion to blush; your conduct deserves it; and you are indebted to Mr Phillott for having made me acquainted with your gallantry.”
Coffee was soon over, and I was glad to leave the cabin and be alone, that I might compose my perturbed mind. I felt too happy. I did not however, say a word to my messmates, as it might have created feelings of envy or ill-will. O’Brien gave me a caution not to do so, when I met him afterwards, so that I was very glad that I had been so circumspect.
Chapter Thirty Five.
Swinburne continues his narrative of the battle off Cape St. Vincent.
The second night after this, we had the middle watch, and I claimed Swinburne’s promise that he would spin his yarn, relative to the battle of St. Vincent. “Well, Mr Simple, so I will; but I require a little priming, or I shall never go off.”
“Will you have your glass of grog before or after?”
“Before, by all means, if you please, sir. Run down and get it, and I’ll heave the log for you in the meantime, when we shall have a good hour without interruption, for the sea-breeze will be steady, and we are under easy sail.” I brought up a stiff glass of grog, which Swinburne tossed off, and as he finished it, sighed deeply as if in sorrow that there was no more. Having stowed away the tumbler in one of the cap stern holes for the present, we sat down upon a coil of ropes under the weather bulwarks, and Swinburne, replacing his quid of tobacco, commenced as follows:—
“Well, Mr Simple, as I told you before, old Jervis started with all his fleet for Cape St. Vincent. We lost one of our fleet—and a three-decker, too—the St. George; she took the ground, and was obliged to go back to Lisbon; but we soon afterwards were joined by five sail of the line, sent out from England, so that we mustered fifteen sail in all. We had like to lose another of our mess, for d’ye see, the old Culloden and Colossus fell foul of each other, and the Culloden had the worst on it, but Troubridge, who commanded her, was not a man to shy his work, and ax to go in to refit, when there was a chance of meeting the enemy—so he patched her up somehow or another, and reported himself ready for action the very next day. Ready for action he always was, that’s sure enough, but whether his ship was in a fit state to go into action, is quite another thing. But as the sailors used to say in joking, he was a true bridge, and you might trust to him; which meant as much as to say, that he knew how to take his ship into action, and how to fight her when he was fairly in it. I think it was the next day that Cockburn joined us in the Minerve, and he brought Nelson along with him, with the intelligence that the Dons had chased him, and that the whole Spanish fleet was out in pursuit of us. Well, Mr Simple, you may guess we were not a little happy in the Captain, when Nelson joined us, as we knew that if we fell in with the Spaniards, our ship would cut a figure—and so she did, sure enough. That was on the morning of the 13th, and old Jervis made the signal to prepare for action, and keep close order, which means, to have your flying jib-boom in at the starn windows of the ship ahead of you; and we did keep close order, for a man might have walked right round from one ship to the other, either lee or weather line of the fleet. I shan’t forget that night, Mr Simple, as long as I live and breathe. Every now and then we heard the signal guns of the Spanish fleet booming at a distance to windward of us, and you may guess how our hearts leaped at the sound, and how we watched with all our ears for the next gun that was fired, trying to make out their bearings and distance, as we assembled in little knots upon the booms and weather gangway. It was my middle watch, and I was signalman at the time, so of course I had no time to take a caulk if I was inclined. When my watch was over, I could not go down to my hammock, so I kept the morning watch too, as did most of the men on board: as for Nelson, he walked the deck the whole night, quite in a fever. At daylight it was thick and hazy weather, and we could not make them out; but about five bells, the old Culloden, who, if she had broke her nose, had not lost the use of her eyes, made the signal for a part of the Spanish fleet in sight. Old Jervis repeated the signal to prepare for action, but he might have saved the wear and tear of the bunting, for we were all ready, bulkheads down, screens up, guns shotted, tackles rove, yards slung, powder filled, shot on deck, and fire out—and what’s more, Mr Simple, I’ll be damned if we wer’n’t all willing too. About six bells in the forenoon, the fog and haze all cleared away at once, just like the rising of the foresail, that they lower down at the Portsmouth Theatre, and discovered the whole of the Spanish fleet. I counted them all. ‘How many, Swinburne?’ cries Nelson. ‘Twenty-six sail, sir,’ answered I. Nelson walked the quarterdeck backwards and forwards, rubbing his hands, and laughing to himself, and then he called for his glass, and went to the gangway with Captain Miller. ‘Swinburne, keep a good look upon the admiral,’ says he. ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ says I. Now, you see, Mr Simple, twenty-six sail against fifteen were great odds upon paper; but we didn’t think so, because we know’d the difference between the two fleets. There was our fifteen sail of the line all in apple-pie order, packed up as close as dominoes, and every man on board of them longing to come to the scratch; while there was their twenty-six, all somehow nohow, two lines here, and no line there, with a great gap of water in the middle of them. For this gap between their ships we all steered, with all the sail we could carry, because, d’ye see, Mr Simple, by getting them on both sides of us, we had the advantage of fighting both broadsides, which is just as easy as fighting one, and makes shorter work of it. Just as it struck seven bells, Troubridge opened the ball, setting to half-a-dozen of the Spaniards, and making them reel ‘Tom Collins,’ whether or no. Bang-bang-bang, bang! Oh, Mr Simple, it’s a beautiful sight, to see the first guns fired, that are to bring on a general action. ‘He’s the luckiest dog, that Troubridge,’ said Nelson, stamping with impatience. Our ships were soon hard at it, hammer and tongs, (my eyes, how they did pelt it in!) and old Sir John, in the Victory, smashed the cabin windows of the Spanish admiral, with such a hell of a raking broadside, that the fellow bore up as if the devil kicked him. Lord-a-mercy! you might have drove a Portsmouth waggon into his starn—the broadside of the Victory had made room enough. However, they were soon all smothered up in smoke, and we could not make out how things were going on—but we made a pretty good guess. Well, Mr Simple, as they say at the play, that was act the first, scene the first; and now we had to make our appearance, and I’ll leave you to judge, after I’ve told my tale, whether the old Captain wasn’t principal performer, and top sawyer over them all. But stop a moment, I’ll just look at the binnacle, for that young topman’s nodding at the wheel.—I say, Mr Smith, are you shutting your eyes to keep them warm, and letting the ship run half a point out of her course? take care I don’t send for another helmsman that’s all, and give the reason why. You’ll make a wry face upon six-water grog, to-morrow, at seven bells. Damn your eyes, keep them open—can’t you?”