Up went the helm, round went the yards, and away sped the Venerable, and with her the rest of the British fleet, full tilt at the Dutchmen. I learned more of the battle from the ejaculations of the quartermaster at my side than from my own observation.
“Confound the mist!” growled he as we reached out for the line. “They won’t see the signal to cut the line and get to leeward. Take my word for it, mate, those Dutch dogs will pull us in on to the shallows before we know where we are.”
Suddenly the thunder of guns on our right proclaimed that the action had begun in good earnest.
“That’s the vice-admiral,” said the boatswain, “at it already, and he’s making a hot corner down there. Ease her up a bit now. There’s the Dutch admiral’s ship the Vryheid. It’s her we’re going for.”
A sudden order came astern.
“Run under her stern?—right you are,” said the quartermaster. “Keep her down more, my lads.—Lie as you are, my beauty,” said he, apostrophising the Vryheid, “and we’ll blacklead you somehow.”
“What’s that ship astern of her about?” said I. “She’s closing up.”
So she was. Before we could slip through and get under the Vryheid’s stern, she had neatly swung up into the gap, blocking us out, and leaving us to put our helm hard a-port to avoid running in on the top of her.
“Neatly done, by the powers,” said the quartermaster; “but Duncan will make her smart for it. Ah, I thought so,” as the Venerable shook from stem to stern and poured the broadside intended for the Vryheid into the stern of the intruder instead. “Take that, my lass, and don’t push in where you’re not wanted again.”
It was a tremendous thunder-clap; and the States-General—that was the name of the intruder—with her rigging all in shivers, and her stern-guns knocked all on end, was glad enough to bear up and drop out of line before she could get a second. This suited our admiral excellently, for it enabled him to cut the enemy’s line and bring the Venerable snugly round on the lee-side of Admiral De Winter’s ship, his originally chosen antagonist.