breathe being made unpleasant by all sorts of “exhalations” from the ship, the masses of humanity on board, “and a few dogs.”
Closen has the good luck not to be inconvenienced by the sea, settles in his corner, and from that moment till the end takes pleasure in watching life around him. He learns how to make nautical observations, describes his companions in his journal, and especially the captain, a typical old tar who has an equal faith in the efficacy of hymns and of oaths.
“Prayer is said twice a day on the deck, which does not prevent there being much irreligion among seamen. I have often heard our captain swear and curse and freely use the worst sailors' language while he was praying and chanting:
“‘Ja mets ma confiance, Vierge, en votre secours, Et quand ma dernière heure Viendra, guidez mon sort; Obtenez que je meure De la plus sainte mort.’”
Various incidents break the monotony of the journey. On the 18th of June the Surveillante captures an English corsair, which is a joy; but they learn from her the fall of Charleston and the surrender of Lincoln, which gives food for thought.
A trap that was avoided
Nothing better shows the difference between old-time and present-time navigation than the small fact that while on the way they indulge in fishing. On board the Comtesse de Noailles they capture flying-fishes, which are “very tender and delicious to eat, fried in fresh butter, like gudgeons.”
An occasion offers to open fight, with the advantage of numerical superiority, on six English vessels; some shots are exchanged, but with great wisdom, and, in spite of the grumblings of all his people, Ternay refuses to really engage them, and continues his voyage.
“He had his convoy too much at heart,” says Closen, “and he knew too well the importance of our expedition, his positive orders being that he must make our army arrive as quickly as possible, for him not to set aside all the entreaties of the young naval officers, who, I was told, were very outspoken on that score, as well as most of the land officers, who know nothing of naval matters.”
The event fully justified Ternay, for Graves, whose mission it had been to intercept him and his slow and heavy convoy, missed his opportunity by twenty-four hours only, reaching New York, where he joined forces with Arbuthnot, just as our own ships were safe at Newport. The slightest delay on Ternay's part might have been fatal.
The more so since, when nearing the coast, our fleet had fallen into fogs. “Nothing so sad and dangerous at sea as fogs,” Closen sententiously writes; “besides the difficulty of avoiding collisions in so numerous a fleet, each vessel, in order to shun them, tries to gain space; thus one may chance to get too far from the center. The standing orders for our convoy were, in view of avoiding those inconveniences, to beat the drums every quarter of an hour or fire petards. The men-of-war fired their guns or sent rockets. The speed limit was three knots during the fog, so that each vessel might, as far as possible, continue keeping company with its neighbor.”
In spite of all which the Ile de France was lost, and there was great anxiety; she was not seen again during the rest of the journey, but she appeared later, quite safe, at Boston.
Washington given the honors of a marshal in the French army
The landing orders of Rochambeau, making known now to all concerned the intentions of the government, were clear and peremptory. Drawn up by him on board the Duc de Bourgogne, he had caused copies to be carried to the chiefs of the several corps on board the other ships:
“The troops which His Majesty is sending to America are auxiliary to those of the United States, his allies, and placed under the orders of General Washington, to whom the honors of a marshal of France will be rendered. The same with the President of Congress,” which avoided the possibility of any trouble as to precedence, no one in the French army having such a rank.
“In case of an equality of rank and duration of service, the American officer will take command. . . . The troops of the King will yield the right side to the allies; French troops will add black to their cockades, black being the color of the United States,” and some such hats, with black and white cockades, are still preserved at Fraunce's Tavern, New
