The Ruby was attached to Lord Howe’s squadron. It was a magnificent sight, when, on the morning of the 2nd of May 1794, a fleet of one hundred and forty-eight sail collected at Saint Helen’s, of which forty-nine were ships of war, weighed by signal, and with the wind at north-east, stood out from that well-known anchorage at the east end of the Isle of Wight, from which they were clear by noon. The weather was fine, the crews were in good discipline, the ships kept well together, and the men doubted not that they were able to fight and to conquer any foe they might encounter.
Never had Paul Pringle felt more proud of his country and his profession, as, walking the deck of the frigate, with True Blue at his side, he looked out at the numerous magnificent ships which glided proudly over the blue ocean.
“Look there, Billy—look there, my boy! Isn’t that a sight to make a sailor’s heart swell high with pride?” he exclaimed as he swept his arm round the horizon.
“It does, godfather—it does!” answered True Blue warmly. “And if I hadn’t loved the sea and the life of a sailor better than anything else, I should have loved it now, I think.”
“Right, boy—right!” exclaimed Paul. “It’s the calling for a man—there’s no doubt on’t. Look there now at Earl Howe’s ship, the Queen Charlotte, called after our own good Queen, with her hundred guns; and then the Royal George, with Admiral Sir Alexander Hood’s flag, and the Royal Sovereign, which carries that of Admiral Graves, each with their hundred bulldogs; and the Barfleur, and the Impregnable. And the Queen, and the Glory, each of them not much smaller; and the Gibraltar, and the Caesar, of eighty guns each. And then look at that hoop of seventy-fours. There’s the Billy Ruffian, and the Tremendous, and the Ramillies, and the Audacious, and the Leviathan, and Majestic, and the Orion, and Marlborough, and Brunswick, and Culloden—they’ll make a noise in the world some day, and perhaps before long too.”
“That’s it, Paul,” said True Blue, looking up at his godfather’s face. “I like our ship, as you know right well, and every timber and plank in her; but I should like to be aboard one of those seventy-fours when the day of battle comes. We aboard the frigates shall see what is going on, but the fine fellows belonging to them will have the real work.”
Paul glanced down approvingly at True Blue. “Never mind that, boy,” he answered. “We have had our turn while the line-of-battle ships were in harbour doing nothing, and we shall have it again, no fear of that. Besides, d’ye see, the enemy have frigates, and we may pick out one of them to lay aboard; or what do you say when the Frenchmen take to flight, we may then go in chase of some of their ships, and, big as they are, make them haul down their colours.”
“Ay, that’s some consolation,” answered True Blue. “Still, it is not like being in the middle of the fight—that you’ll allow, godfather.”
“No, True Blue, it is not, boy; but in the middle of the fight you see nothing often—only your own gun and the side of the enemy at which you are firing away,” remarked Paul. “Now aboard a frigate we are outside of all, and can see all the movements of our ships as well as those of the enemy; and as to fighting, a frigate with a smart Captain gets twice as much of that as any line-of-battle ship; except, perhaps, three or four favourites of fortune, which somehow seem to be in at everything. Look now, there’s Lord Howe signalling away, and Admiral Montague answering him.”
The fleet was now off the Lizard. The signal was made for the different convoys to part company, and for Admiral Montague, with six seventy-fours and two frigates, to protect them as far as the latitude of Cape Finisterre. Away sailed the rich argosies, many of the Indiamen worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, and almost as large as the line-of-battle ships themselves. Extending far as the eye could reach, they covered the glittering ocean with their white canvas and shining hulls, their flags streaming out gaily to the breeze.