now know little but of their laurels. The solemn responsibilities of
their condition, the consciousness that a false step might be ruin,
the feeling that the eye of their country was fixed upon them, the
hope of renown, the dread of tarnishing all their past distinctions,
must pass powerfully and painfully through the mind of men fitted for
the struggles by which greatness is to be alone achieved.

"It is believed that Sir John Jervis did not go to bed that night, but
sat up writing. It is certain that he executed his will." In the
course of the first and second watches, the enemy's signal-guns were
distinctly heard; and, as he noticed them sounding more and more
audibly, Sir John made more earnest enquiries as to the compact order
and situation of his own ships, as well as they could be made out in
the darkness. Long before break of day, he walked the deck in more
than even his usual silence. When the grey of the morning of the 14th
enabled him to discern his fleet, his first remarks were high
approbation of his captains, for "their admirably close order, and
that he wished they were now well up with the enemy; for," added he
thoughtfully, "a victory is very essential to England at this moment."

Now came on the day of decision. The morning was foggy; but as the
mist cleared up, the Lively, and then the Niger, signaled "a strange
fleet." The Bonne Citoyenne was next ordered to reconnoitre. Soon
after, the Culloden's guns announced the enemy. At twenty minutes past
ten the signal was made to six of the ships--"to chase." Sir John
still walked the quarterdeck, and, as the enemy's numbers were
counted, they were duly reported to him by the captain of the fleet.

"There are eight sail of the line, Sir John."