Archy ran on deck as fast as his legs could carry him, and the sight that met his gaze was both splendid and terrible. They were off Cape St. Vincent, and the weather had been somewhat thick all the morning; but, a little while before, the sun suddenly blazed out, showing them Admiral de Langara's fleet of nine ships of the line and two frigates, not more than three miles off. A smart breeze was blowing, and the Spaniards, who seemed to have known first of their own danger, were under press of sail trying to weather the headland before they would be cut off by Admiral Rodney's fleet of nineteen sail of the line and four frigates. The wind was carrying the British fleet so fast towards the Spaniards that the signal for the formation of the line of battle was already shown from Admiral Rodney's ship, while the convoy kept together in the rear.

Admiral Rodney had no fool to play with in Admiral de Langara, who, although prepared to fight if compelled to, justly declined the unequal combat as long as he could.

In Archy's brief experience of naval warfare he had never seen the manoeuvres of a great fleet, and he watched with breathless interest the steadiness and precision with which the British fleet spread out in a great semicircle, with the fast frigates at either end of the line, and the convoy secure behind them. The ships were already cleared for action, and a single tap of the drum was all that was necessary to call the men to quarters. There was no slowness in Prince William's response this time. He was at his station among the first, and if he had a wholesome awe of Admiral Digby, he showed a manly indifference to the Spaniards.

Admiral de Langara had the weather-gage at first, and was able to keep it for over two hours; and in that time the Spaniards were slowly but steadily creeping away from their enemies. Admiral Rodney maintained his line of battle, and showed a perfect willingness to fight, with an unknown and frightfully dangerous shore under his lee. But the wind increasing every moment, the line began to straggle, in the effort to claw off shore.

Archy Baskerville, a deeply interested observer, managed to establish himself just aft the bridge, upon which stood Admiral Digby, with Captain Fulke and the first lieutenant. Archy watched Admiral Digby, alert and sailor-like, as he paced up and down, keeping his eye on Admiral Rodney's ship, from which the signal for the line of battle flew steadily. Langton presently passed Archy and whispered to him:

"Watch the old man. He is in a boiling rage. This is the fastest ship of the line in the fleet, and if the signal for chasing were given he'd be alongside one of those big three-deckers in half an hour. But here he is, under easy sail, to keep up with the slow coaches. No wonder he is in a stew."

And the Admiral proved it by dashing his glass down angrily after a prolonged stare at Admiral Rodney's signal. The men seemed to understand this well enough, and when the wind continued to rise, and they were obliged to shorten sail as much as they dared, they gave a loud groan when the order was shouted out. The wind seemed to blow from all points of the compass at once, while the sky became black and lowering. The Spanish flag-ship, the Phoenix, was falling behind a little, and as the rocky promontory of the Cape loomed nearer, the chances of this ship weathering seemed less than that of the rest of the fleet. Her great draught forced her to keep well out from the rocky shore, and she lay almost in the path of the Royal George, not more than two miles to windward. Archy, watching Admiral Rodney's ship, saw by the dull and clouded light a change of signals, and above him, on the bridge, it was greeted by something like a shout of joy from Admiral Digby.

"We can carry all hard sail now, captain; there is the signal for chasing!" cried the Admiral to his captain; and, as if by magic, the sailors sprang into the rigging, and, with a rousing cheer, everything that would draw was shaken out, and the Royal George, like a horse under the spur, dashed forward, ahead of every ship in the fleet.

Within half an hour she was near enough to the Spanish Admiral to fire her quarter-guns, to which the Spaniard replied promptly; but in both cases the shot fell short.

"Never mind, my lads!" called out the Admiral, jovially, "we must exchange compliments before we get down to work. There's no real pleasure to be had until we are alongside!"

The Phoenix, having a choice of dangers, and seeing the Royal George gaining upon her, then quickly changed her course and stood inshore, where the coast was fringed with mountains of rocks, as if some giant hand had strewed them there for the destruction of ships. The Royal George did not hesitate to follow her, though, and tacked inshore too. From the manoeuvres of the Spaniard, it was plain that she had an experienced pilot aboard; but on the Royal George they had no better assurance of water under the keel than could be found by continually heaving the lead.

From the rest of the fleet a smart cannonade was now begun as the faster ships got within range of the Spaniards, who, caught and surrounded by superior force, yet prepared to defend themselves gallantly.

The short afternoon was now closing in, and the increasing wind and the wraith of storm-clouds driving across the pale and wintry sky showed all those brave men that they would be called upon to combat waves and tempest as well as shot and shell.

The Phoenix, finding it impossible to weather the headland in the face of her enemies, prepared to fight in a large bay, which, dangerous enough in all weathers, yet gave her enough sea-room to save her if skilfully handled.

The Royal George, undaunted by the hazardous circumstances in which she was forced to attack, followed her antagonist. At the same moment each ship thundered out her broadside; but the wind and water rose so high that most of the shots were ineffective, although fired at short range. The howling of the wind and the dashing of the waves on the shore were soon drowned in the roar of the batteries on thirty-four fighting ships, for the engagement soon became general. As night came on neither storm nor battle abated. The clouds poured forth rain and wind as they were swept across the wild night sky. The only light visible was the flash of the guns and the red glare of the battle lanterns. The Spanish were outnumbered more than two to one; but they were favored by the storm, and stood stubbornly to their guns.

On board the Royal George the slaughter began to be serious. The ship required the most constant manoeuvring to keep her off the rocks, and there was enough to do, and more, even for the enormous crew of a thousand men she carried. Archy was not one to sit idly by and watch when he could help, and when the bearers to carry the wounded below began to be few, he ran forward, and, taking one end of a stretcher, did yeoman's service in helping. About midnight, having a few minutes to himself, it occurred to him that he was hungry, and probably others were who could not leave their stations. He went below, and, getting some bread and cheese from one of the stewards, returned to the deck and distributed his provisions liberally among the midshipmen, not forgetting Prince William.

"Thank'ee," said Billy, gratefully. "I wish I was in your place—nothing to do but to watch how the Spaniards take a beating, instead of having to fight this beastly battery. And I don't like fighting—that I don't."

Archy passed on, laughing. There was no doubt that Billy possessed the courage of all the Brunswickers, and was exactly the same Billy under fire as sitting around the mess-table.

Langton was near by, and Archy was troubled to see how pale and exhausted he looked. His former terrible experience on the Spanish coast had not been without its effects, and Archy saw that nothing but Langton's determined will and anxiety to do his duty kept him from dropping at his station. Just as the last piece of cheese and last slice of bread were about to be disposed of, Archy saw the Admiral crossing the deck towards him. He held out the bread and cheese, and the Admiral seized it with enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Mr. Baskerville. Those rascally stewards seem to have forgotten us up here. We'll give them a keelhauling for it as soon as the wind lulls! Hanged if I don't think it deuced unhandsome of Admiral de Langara to make us fight in this awkward cubby-hole of a place! Did you ever see anything like this, sir?"

"I was on the Bon Homme Richard, sir, when she took the Serapis. We had good enough weather, but we were locked together two hours, and at it hammer and tongs all the while."

"Um—ah—hum—I say, lieutenant, I think number four in the starboard battery is doing remarkably fine work. Mr. Langton in command? I shall remember him when we are through with these persistent Spanish gentlemen."

The fire from several of the Spanish ships slackened as the night wore on, and soon after midnight the Monarca, a seventy-gun ship, blew up with a terrific crash that drowned both tempest and battle. Her topmasts and sails flew skyward, and the wreckage from her great masts and spars was tossed like corks over the black waters. In the red illumination from sea and sky the bodies of men, dead and living, were seen floating, and the cries of the unfortunates were responded to by several of the British ships lowering their boats in the teeth of the gale, and pulling about in the line of fire, picking up the half-drowned sailors.

One by one the Spanish ships were disabled and forced to strike their colors, but the flag-ship still fought on. As a gray and pallid dawn broke over the stormy ocean and the drenched and forbidding-looking land, it was seen from the Royal George that her antagonist was in desperate straits. Her main-mast had gone by the board, carrying the mizzen-mast with it, and both cumbered the deck and hung over the side, entangled in a mass of canvas and rigging. Many of her guns had burst, and her decks were strewed with the dead and wounded. The Spanish Admiral, however, was still on the bridge, but the two officers with him were evidently juniors, showing that he had lost his captain and first lieutenant. The fire of the Phoenix was gradually lessening, and about daybreak it entirely ceased, and the Spanish colors were hauled down amid loud cheering from the Royal George. The Spaniards had made a good fight, and the Royal George, although not so badly crippled as her opponent, was much cut up aloft, and had several shot-holes in her hull.

A boat was immediately lowered, and Prince William was given the command of her, both as a compliment to himself and to the brave Admiral de Langara, who would be escorted on board the Royal George by a king's son. It was uncertain whether the Spaniard would need boats to bring the prisoners aboard, or whether his own boats were in condition to do so.

Six of the Spanish ships of the line had struck, one had blown up, while in the distance the remaining two were making off under a press of sail. In Admiral Rodney's fleet the losses in men were not very great, but the terrible disadvantage at which he had fought, and the bad weather, left them still battling for their lives on an unknown and dangerous coast, with six damaged ships to take care of, and thousands of prisoners. No ship had suffered more than the Royal George, and the perilous situation in which she was placed became more evident by daylight. The wind was blowing directly on shore, and it became necessary to put on all the sail the ship could stand in order to keep her from going on the rocks; but her masts and spars were so cut up that it seemed every moment as if they would all come down at once.

Archy watched with anxiety as an effort was made to set the main-sail. He said to himself, out aloud:

"The mast can never stand it."

But the mast did stand it, although bending and quivering under the strain when the full force of the wind struck the sail, and the ship, gathering headway, moved a little farther off from the menacing shore, on which the roar of breakers could be distinctly heard.

Prince William's boat was now approaching, and Archy could see the erect figure of the Spanish Admiral sitting in the stern-sheets. The boat came alongside, but poor Billy gave the order "Oars" too soon, and she drifted off just as the line was thrown to her. Instead of making another effort to bring her up to the lee gangway, Billy breasted along the side until he caught the stern-ladders, and was just about to pass the Spanish Admiral through the quarter-gallery when Admiral Digby, who was waiting with the captain at the gangway, with marines and side-boys to receive the Spaniard, bawled out:

"Avast, there! What are you doing, sir?" Billy needed nothing more to convince him of his mistake, and he immediately made for the gangway. In a little while Admiral de Langara came over the side.

As soon as the Spaniard's foot touched the quarter-deck, Admiral Digby advanced with uncovered head. The Spaniard also uncovered, and, making a low bow, was about to offer his sword.

"No," said Admiral Digby, with much dignity, "I cannot take the sword of so brave a man. It will yet do great things for your country."

De Langara's eyes filled with tears, as, in broken English, he said something of which few comprehended the words, but all understood the meaning.

Poor Billy then came over the side, and Admiral Digby, to make sure that the Spanish Admiral knew that no slight was intended by bringing him to the forward gangway, said sternly to the unlucky scion of royalty:

"How, sir! have you not yet learned to bring a boat alongside properly? I shall not forget this, and, when time serves, I will give you a lesson that you will remember."

Admiral de Langara looked in amazement from the angry Admiral to the trembling midshipman.

"No wonder," he remarked to Admiral Digby, "that the English rule the seas, when the son of the sovereign is made to submit to discipline as any other midshipman in the ship."

Admiral Digby then escorted the Spanish Admiral to his cabin. There was work for everybody to do, and Archy soon found himself pressed into service again. Powder was precious, and it was necessary to save what had already been hoisted on deck, and to get the fuses and cartridges and everything else in place.

The wind increasing in violence prevented the transfer of the prisoners, and it was with great difficulty that a prize-crew was thrown aboard of the Phoenix. And then, in spite of the vast concussion of hundreds of guns, which usually deadens the wind, it became a hurricane. For two days and nights the Royal George battled for her life, and every time the Phoenix disappeared from view it was thought she had gone to the bottom. If they made sail, everything was blown from the bolt-ropes, while if they stripped the ship of her canvas she would seem to be rushing headlong to destruction. But at last they succeeded in bending sails that stood the terrific strain. The officers and crew nobly maintained the name of British seamen. Cool, courageous, skilful, never losing heart, they struggled on, in mortal danger every moment, and from the Admiral down to poor Billy the Prince every officer did his whole duty, as did every man. It was two days before they were in deep water again; but on the third day the morning broke in splendor, a golden sun shining down upon a sapphire sea. And the same afternoon the British fleet, with six great Spanish ships on which the Union Jack was hoisted over the Spanish colors, sailed past Europa Point, and the Rock of the Lion, from all its hundred guns, thundered out a welcome worthy of such mighty guests.