Sure never did English admiral before or since suffer such
undeserved humiliation.
Our men set to work diligently to refit the vessel, and this being
done by ten o'clock, Mr. Benbow ordered the captain to pursue the
enemy, who was then about three miles distant, and to leeward,
having the disabled ship in tow, and steering northeast, the wind
being sou'-sou'west. We made all the sail we could, the battle
signal always flying at the fore; and the enemy, taking
encouragement from the behavior of some of our captains, now showed
the first signs of waiting for us. Whereupon the admiral ordered
Captain Fogg to send to the other captains and bid them keep their
line and behave themselves like men.
And when our boat returned from this errand there was Captain
Kirkby in it. He came aboard the Breda and went up to the admiral,
who never left the quarterdeck. There were high words between them;
I learned afterwards that Captain Kirkby pressed Mr. Benbow very
earnestly to desist from any further engagement, alleging that he
had tried the enemy's strength with little success for six days
together.
"And whose fault is that, sir?" roared the admiral.
Then, with difficulty curbing his anger, he bade Captain Fogg
signal to the other captains to come aboard, so that he might know
whether they were all of the same mind as that craven.
They obeyed this signal with wondrous alacrity. They came aboard,
and for two mortal hours the admiral, racked and almost fainting
with pain, reasoned, expostulated, pleaded, showed them that now
they had the fairest opportunity of success, seeing that our ships
were all in good condition, and only eight men killed in all the
squadron save those the Breda had lost; that we had plenty of
ammunition; that three or four of the enemy's ships had suffered
injury and one was quite disabled and in tow.
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