It was in watching the movements of Le Cerf, that we first got a glimpse of La Desiree.  This ship reappeared almost in a line with her consort; and, like her, steering off before the wind.  Their common object seemed to be, to get within close supporting distance of each other, and to increase the space between them and their enemies.  Both these vessels had the tri-colored flag flying at the stumps of their masts.  As respects the last, however, La Desiree was a little better off than her consort—­having her foremast and main-mast standing entire;—­though her mizen-mast was gone, close to the deck.  What was a very bad affair for her, her fore-yard had been shot away in the slings, the two inner ends lying on the forecastle, while the yard-arms were loosely sustained by the lifts.  This ship kept off under her main-sail and fore-stay-sail.

The Black Prince was the last to get clear of the smoke.  She had everything in its place, from her top-mast cross-trees, down.  The three top-gallant-masts were gone, and the wrecks were already cleared; but all the top-sail-yards were on the caps, and her rigging, spars and tops, were alive with men; as, indeed, were those of the Speedy.  This was the secret of the cessation in the action;—­the two English frigates having turned their hands up to secure their spars, while the Frenchmen, by running off dead before the wind, were in positions not to bring a broadside gun to bear; and the cabin-chasers of a frigate were seldom of much use in that day, on account of the rake of the stern.  It always appeared to me, that the Spaniards built the best ships in this respect,—­the English and Americans, in particular, seeming never to calculate the chances of running away.  I do not say this, in reference to the Spanish ships, however, under any idea that the Spanish nation wants courage,—­for a falser notion cannot exist,—­but, merely to state their superiority in one point of naval architecture, at the very moment when, having built a fine ship, they did not know how to make use of her.

The first ten minutes after the four combatants were clear of the smoke, were actively employed in repairing damages, on the part of the French confusedly, and I make no doubt clamorously; on that of the English with great readiness and a perfect understanding of their business.  Notwithstanding this was the general character of the exertions of the respective parties, there were exceptions to the rule.  On board le Cerf, for instance, I observed a gang of men at work clearing the ship from the wreck of the main-mast, who proceeded with a degree of coolness, vigour and method, which showed what materials were thrown away in that service, for want of a good system; and chiefly, as I shall always think, because the officers did not understand the immense importance of preserving silence on board a crowded vessel.  The native taciturnity of the English, increased by the social discipline of that well-ordered—­perhaps over-ordered—­nation, has won them as many battles on the ocean, as the native loquacity of their enemies—­increased possibly during the reign of les citoyens by political exaggeration—­has lost.  It is lucky for us, that the American character inclines to silence and thoughtfulness, in grave emergencies:  we are noisy, garrulous, and sputtering, only in our politics.