s carried, and the vessels were
first made in the haze of a clouded morning, the ships had not become
visible to each other until nearer than common; and, by the time at
which we have now arrived in our tale, the leading vessels were
separated by a space that did not exceed two miles, estimating the
distance only on their respective lines of sailing; though there would
be about the same space between them, when abreast, the English being so
much to windward of their enemies. Any one in the least familiar with
nautical man[oe]uvres will understand that these circumstances would
bring the van of the French and the rear of their foes much nearer
together in passing, both fleets being close-hauled.

Sir Gervaise Oakes, as a matter of course, watched the progress of the
two lines with close and intelligent attention. Mons. de Vervillin did
the same from the poop of le Foudroyant, a noble eighty-gun ship in
which his flag of _vice-admiral_ was flying, as it might be, in
defiance. By the side of the former stood Greenly, Bunting, and Bury,
the Plantagenet's first lieutenant; by the side of the latter his
capitaine de vaisseau, a man as little like the caricatures of such
officers, as a hostile feeling has laid before the readers of English
literature, as Washington was like the man held up to odium in the
London journals, at the commencement of the great American war. M. de
Vervillin himself was a man of respectable birth, of a scientific
education, and of great familiarity with ships, so far as a knowledge of
their general powers and principles was concerned; but here his
professional excellence ceased, all that infinity of detail which
composes the distinctive merit of the practical seaman being, in a great
degree, unknown to him, rendering it necessary for him to _think_ in
moments of emergency; periods when the really prime mariner seems more
to act by a sort of _instinct_ than by any very intelligible process of
ratiocination. With his fleet drawn out before him, however, and with no
unusual demands on his resources, this gallant officer was an
exceedingly formidable foe to contend with in squadron.

Sir Gervaise Oakes lost all his constitutional and feverish impatience
while the fleets drew nigher and nigher. As is not unusual with brave
men, who are naturally excitable, as the crisis approached he grew
calmer, and obtained a more perfect command over himself; seeing all
things in their true colours, and feeling more an