36. CHAPTER XXXVI.
PREPARATIONS FOR A NAVAL BATTLE.
Just about the time of the suspension of the fire between
the land forces, Commodore Stout perceived evidences of
an intention on the part of Admiral Bang, to intercept
the flotilla. Already an immense fleet of transports had
succeeded in landing on the Delaware flats the President's
superb corps of cavalry; but the positions assumed by the
British ships, if maintained, would enable them to interfere
with the passage of the artillery and infantry.
Under these circumstances the Commodore sent an officer
to the Admiral with the announcement that his menacing
attitude would, if persisted in, be construed as the signal
of battle. To this message, the Admiral, a Shakespearian
wag, returned no other response than “I bite my thumb,
sir!”
“Then I'll powder it with saltpetre, brimstone, and charcoal!”
said the Commodore, and he ordered an immediate
preparation for action.
“Commodore—Commodore!” said Lord Slysir, limping
up to the old officer, “are you going to fight?”
“My Lord, there will be a fight or a foot race, and you
may judge how likely the last is in seven fathom water.”
“But, Commodore, this is no place for me! It is my
province to make war—not to expose myself in battle. I
swore, when that herculean Bim was jolting me to death in
the bag, that I would never be caught in such a predicament
again—and now I find myself about to be exposed to
the furious fire of Her Majesty's ship Vesuvius! I protest
against it, Commodore!”
“Then protest to Bang, and not to me! I don't intend
to shoot you. But I mean to see which can vomit the hottest
fire, the Wabash or the Vesuvius!”
“But, Commodore, I must not stay here!”
“Then go below.”
“Will I be safe there?”
“Tolerably, under the water-line. A horizontal ball can't
reach you. A perpendicular one, going through the decks,
might crack your head. A bomb descending to the bottom
would make mince meat for the rats; if the ship sinks, you
will go down first, being nearest the bottom; and if the
magazine should explode, of course we would all be pulverized
in a twinkling.”
“Can't you put me ashore?”
“Then Ruffleton, when rested, and his guns cooled, may
resume the cannonade, and you might be pounded to a
jelly. So you see if it be a pleasant amusement to make
war, it is no pastime to be in it.”
“Commodore, why can't you send me to the Delaware
shore?”
“Bim wants to fight on my ship. He is your custodian.”
“I could be back in fifteen minutes,” said Bim. “And
even if the battle begins before that time, I'll be sure
to board you. I hope you will permit me to place his Lordship
in the custody of the Blue Caps, sir, as I have a special
reason for it.”
“I am disposed to accommodate you, Bim,” said the
Commodore; “but do you think his Lordship can be trusted
with the ladies?”
“Miss Alice's guards will protect them, sir. But my
special reason, sir, is that I wish to place Signor Popoli in a
secure place. He might be killed here, and that would be
too mild a punishment.”
“Go—but see that neither of the prisoners escapes.”
“I'll answer for that, sir!” said Bim; and a few moments
after a boat put out from the ship, containing Slysir, Bim,
and Popoli, the latter still in chains.
