vexatiously foggy and blowing. The fleet continued
cruising southward of Ushant, to try and intercept
the great convoy expected from North
America and the West Indies. On the 29th,
being close in with Ushant, the admiral sent two
frigates, the Latona and Phaeton, covered by the
Leviathan and Caesar, through the Trone passage
to look into Brest. They looked in boldly,
but to their vexation discovered the French
fleet had gone. An American vessel soon reported
that they had sailed on the 17th—twenty-
four ships of the line and ten frigates— their
object being to guard the valuable West India
homeward-bound convoy. On that day, two
French corvettes—the Républicain (eighteen)
and the Inconnu (twelve) —steered towards
the fleet, mistaking it for their own. They
were instantly taken and destroyed, as there
was no time to send them into an English
port. The admiral, having thus bagged his
first birds, calmly and confidently stood under
easy sail to the northward, being sure that the
enemy's chief station would be between the parallels
of forty-five degrees and forty-seven degrees
thirty minutes. On the morning of the 28th,
the advance frigates saw several French ships
far to the south-east, the wind then blowing
stiff from the south-west.

The enemy was watched during that May
night, and at daybreak he hove larger, the wind
being still fresh from the south-south-west, and
a head sea on from the southward. The fleet
was then put on the larboard tack, in order to
get a few shots at the enemy's rear. A few
random long shots were fired in this way. The
French then, in imitation of us, wore their van
in succession. About ten o'clock he hauled to
the wind, and opened fire on the Caesar, Queen,
Russell, and other vessels in our front, trying
to disable them, and, by a blow on the head, to
stun us and check our pursuit.

The centre of the British fleet drawing fast
up with the van, the signal was repeatedly made
for the Caesar, leading the line and then under
treble-reefed topsails and foresail, to make more
sail. In letting the third reef out, her main-
topsail split, and it became necessary to bend
another. But, as she did not set her mainsail,
the centre and rear of the fleet were obliged to
shorten sail; and the Cæsar dropped to leeward
for want of sufficient headway.

The chase continued all day, the French edging
down shyly to random-shot distance, then
hauling the wind, and firing as they drew ahead.
Lord Howe, fearing his van might suffer from
their scattered but constantly renewed fire,
thought fit to tack the fleet in succession, in
order to drive through some part of the enemy's
squadron to windward. At noon, the signals for
which Howe was anxious were made in the lulls
of firing, to charge through the enemy's line.
Howe had them now.

Unfortunately the crews were raw, the
captains were inexperienced. They betrayed an
utter incapacity of manoeuvring together, or
piercing the enemy's line, and each one engaging
his adversary to leeward. Soon after one o'clock,
the Cæsar, Queen, Orion, and Invincible were
observed to be about on the starboard tack; and
the Cæsar and Queen disappointing the staunch
old admiral, Howe, in his prompt and decisive
way, instantly tacked his vessel, the Charlotte
(the tenth from the van), and struck through the
French line between the fifth and sixth ships of
their rear. He then tacked again, and bore
down from to windward, but followed only by the
Bellerophon and Leviathan. The enemy wore
in succession, to protect three of their disabled
vessels.

Howe in vain signalled to his confused ships
to form in line. They came up huddled
together, presenting a tempting mark to the
French gunners; but the French were quite
content to cover their winged vessels, to fire at
a safe distance, and to wear to the westward;
and Howe, keeping the weathergage, drove
steadily after them.

The two next days were foggy; but the wind
went down, the head sea abated, and from
time to time the enemy's sails showed to the
north-west. Soon after noon, on the 31st, the
fog melted off, and the twenty-six French vessels
were seen to leeward. They were forming in
order of battle as Howe's fleet advanced abreast
of them; but it was too late to fight comfortably
that day, so Howe sent out his observation
frigates, and waited anxiously for the warm
summer morning that was to welcome June.

June 1st showed the French about three
or four miles to leeward, in order of battle,
and under easy sail to the westward. Howe,
having found his captains unable to pierce the
enemy's line and engage to leeward, gave the
simpler and more bull-dog order to go straight
at their throats; i.e. each ship to steer for and
engage the ship opposed to her in the enemy's
line, throttle it, and pound it deaf and dumb as
soon as possible. Our fleet bore up soon after
nine. After a quiet half-hour given the men for
breakfast, our fleet bore down on the French as
calmly as if our vessels were coming to an
anchor.

As the Charlotte was advancing towards
the French line with a determination to pass
through it, it appeared so close and compact
that Lord Howe expressed a doubt whether
there was room to pass between the Montagne,
of one hundred and twenty guns, and the Jacobin,
of eighty, which had stretched partly under the
lee of the former, as if afraid of the Charlotte's
broadside, thus occupying the place it was intended
the Charlotte should take. Lord Howe,
however, was determined to pass through, or
run on board the enemy's flag-ship or the
Jacobin; on which Bowen, blunt and resolute, called
out, " That's right, my lord; the Charlotte will
make room for herself." On his first appointment
to the Queen Charlotte, this unpolished but
shrewd and clever seaman had been in the habit,
in addressing the commander-in-chief, or replying
to his questions, of frequently, almost constantly,
using the expression "my lord." One
day Lord Howe said to him, "Bowen, pray,
my good fellow, do give over that eternal ' my