The Two Admirals. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
both the sailors to believe he might be the commander of one of the ships that had just come in view.
“Good-morrow, gentlemen,” commenced this person, as soon as near enough to salute the party at the foot of the flagstaff; “good-morrow to ye all. I’m glad to meet you, for it’s but a Jacob’s ladder, this path of yours, through the ravine in the cliffs. Hey! why Atwood,” looking around him at the sea of vapour, in surprise, “what the devil has become of the fleet?”
“It is lost in the fog, sir; we are above it, here; when more on a level with the ships, we could see, or fancy we saw, more of them than we do now.”
“Here are the upper sails of two heavy ships, sir,” observed Wychecombe, pointing in the direction of the vessels already seen; “ay, and yonder are two more – nothing but the royals are visible.”
“Two more! – I left eleven two-deckers, three frigates, a sloop, and a cutter in sight, when I got into the boat. You might have covered ‘em all with a pocket-handkerchief, hey! Atwood!”
“They were certainly in close order, sir, but I’ll not take it on myself to say quite as near together as that.”
“Ay, you’re a dissenter by trade, and never will believe in a miracle. Sharp work, gentlemen, to get up such a hill as this, after fifty.”
“It is, indeed, sir,” answered Sir Wycherly, kindly. “Will you do us the favour to take a seat among us, and rest yourself after so violent an exertion? The cliff is hard enough to ascend, even when one keeps the path; though here is a young gentleman who had a fancy just now to go down it, without a path; and that, too, merely that a pretty girl might have a nosegay on her breakfast-table.”
The stranger looked intently at Sir Wycherly for a moment, then glanced his eye at the groom and the pony, after which he took a survey of Tom Wychecombe, the lieutenant, and the master. He was a man accustomed to look about him, and he understood, by that rapid glance, the characters of all he surveyed, with perhaps the exception of that of Tom Wychecombe; and even of that he formed a tolerably shrewd conjecture. Sir Wycherly he immediately set down as the squire of the adjacent estate; Dutton’s situation he hit exactly, conceiving him to be a worn-out master, who was employed to keep the signal-station; while he understood Wychecombe, by his undress, and air, to be a sea-lieutenant in the king’s service. Tom Wychecombe he thought it quite likely might be the son, and heir of the lord of the manor, both being in mourning; though he decided in his own mind that there was not the smallest family likeness between them. Bowing with the courtesy of a man who knew how to acknowledge a civility, he took the proffered seat at Sir Wycherly’s side without farther ceremony.
“We must carry the young fellow to sea with us, sir,” rejoined the stranger, “and that will cure him of looking for flowers in such ticklish places. His Majesty has need of us all, in this war; and I trust, young gentleman, you have not been long ashore, among the girls.”
“Only long enough to make a cure of a pretty smart hurt, received in cutting out a lugger from the opposite coast,” answered Wychecombe, with sufficient modesty, and yet with sufficient spirit.
“Lugger! – ha! what Atwood? You surely do not mean, young gentleman, la Voltigeuse?”
“That was the name of the craft, sir – we found her in the roads of Groix.”
“And then I’ve the pleasure of seeing Mr. Wychecombe, the young officer who led in that gallant attack?”
This was said with a most flattering warmth of manner, the stranger even rising and removing his hat, as he uttered the words with a heartiness that showed how much his feelings were in unison with what he said.
“I am Mr. Wychecombe, sir,” answered the other, blushing to the temples, and returning the salute; “though I had not the honour of leading; one of the lieutenants of our ship being in another boat.”
“Yes – I know all that – but he was beaten off, while you boarded and did the work. What have my lords commissioners done in the matter?”
“All that is necessary, so far as I am concerned, sir, I do assure you; having sent me a commission the very next week. I only wish they had been equally generous to Mr. Walton, who received a severe wound also, and behaved as well as man could behave.”
“That would not be so wise, Mr. Wychecombe, since it would be rewarding a failure,” returned the stranger, coldly. “Success is all in all, in war. Ah! there the fellows begin to show themselves, Atwood.”
This remark drew all eyes, again, towards the sea, where a sight now presented itself that was really worthy of a passing notice. The vapour appeared to have become packed into a mass of some eighty or a hundred feet in height, leaving a perfectly clear atmosphere above it. In the clear air, were visible the upper spars and canvass of the entire fleet mentioned by the stranger; sixteen sail in all. There were the eleven two-deckers, and the three frigates, rising in pyramids of canvass, still fanning in towards the anchorage, which in that roadstead was within pistol-shot of the shore; while the royals and upper part of the topgallant sails of the sloop seemed to stand on the surface of the fog, like a monument. After a moment’s pause, Wychecombe discovered even the head of the cutter’s royal-mast, with the pennant lazily fluttering ahead of it, partly concealed in vapour. The fog seemed to settle, instead of rising, though it evidently rolled along the face of the waters, putting the whole scene in motion. It was not long ere the tops of the ships of the line became visible, and then living beings were for the first time seen in the moving masses.
“I suppose we offer just such a sight to the top-men of the ships, as they offer to us,” observed the stranger. “They must see this head-land and flag-staff, Mr. Wychecombe; and there can be no danger of their standing in too far!”
“I should think not, sir; certainly the men aloft can see the cliffs above the fog, as we see the vessels’ spars. Ha! Mr. Dutton, there is a rear-admiral’s flag flying on board the ship farthest to the eastward.”
“So I see, sir; and by looking at the third vessel on the western side of the line, you will find a bit of square bunting at the fore, which will tell you there is a vice-admiral beneath it.”
“Quite true!” exclaimed Wychecombe, who was ever enthusiastic on matters relating to his profession; “a vice-admiral of the red, too; which is the next step to being a full admiral. This must be the fleet of Sir Digby Downes!”
“No, young gentleman,” returned the stranger, who perceived by the glance of the other’s eye, that a question was indirectly put to himself; “it is the southern squadron; and the vice-admiral’s flag you see, belongs to Sir Gervaise Oakes. Admiral Bluewater is on board the ship that carries a flag at the mizzen.”
“Those two officers always go together, Sir Wycherly,” added the young man. “Whenever we hear the name of Sir Gervaise, that of Bluewater is certain to accompany it. Such a union in service is delightful to witness.”
“Well may they go in company, Mr. Wychecombe,” returned the stranger, betraying a little emotion. “Oakes and Bluewater were reefers together, under old Breasthook, in the Mermaid; and when the first was made a lieutenant into the Squid, the last followed as a mate. Oakes was first of the Briton, in her action with the Spanish frigates, and Bluewater third. For that affair Oakes got a sloop, and his friend went with him as his first. The next year they had the luck to capture a heavier ship than their own, when, for the first time in their service, the two young men were separated; Oakes getting a frigate, and Bluewater getting the Squid. Still they cruised in company, until the senior was sent in command of a flying squadron, with a broad pennant, when the junior, who by this time was post, received his old messmate on board his own frigate. In that manner they served together, down to the hour when the first hoisted his flag. From that time, the two old seamen have never been parted; Bluewater acting as the admiral’s captain, until he got the square bunting himself. The vice-admiral has never led the van of a fleet, that the rear-admiral did not lead the rear-division; and, now that Sir Gervaise is a commander-in-chief, you see his friend, Dick Bluewater, is cruising in his company.”
While the stranger was giving this account of the Two Admirals, in a half-serious, half-jocular manner, the eyes of his