“Our wives are now about going to church, but we will ring about these Frenchmen’s ears a peal which will drown their bells.”  The French officers, both admirals and captains, were mainly unknown men, alike then and thereafter.  The fierce flames of the Revolution had swept away the men of the old school, mostly aristocrats, and time had not yet brought forward the very few who during the Napoleonic period showed marked capacity.  The commander-in-chief, Villaret-Joyeuse, had three years before been a lieutenant.  He had a high record for gallantry, but was without antecedents as a general officer.  With him, on the poop of the Montagne, which took her name from Robespierre’s political supporters, stood that anomalous companion of the generals and admirals of the day, the Revolutionary commissioner, Jean Bon Saint-Andre, about to learn by experience the practical working of the system he had advocated, to disregard all tests of ability save patriotism and courage, depreciating practice and skill as unnecessary to the valor of the true Frenchman.

As the British line drew near the French, Howe said to Curtis, “Prepare the signal for close action.”  “There is no such signal,” replied Curtis.  “No,” said the admiral, “but there is one for closer action, and I only want that to be made in case of captains not doing their duty.”  Then closing a little signal book he always carried, he continued to those around him, “Now, gentlemen, no more book, no more signals.  I look to you to do the duty of the Queen Charlotte in engaging the flag-ship.  I don’t want the ships to be bilge to bilge, but if you can lock the yardarms, so much the better; the battle will be the quicker decided.”  His purpose was to go through the French line, and fight the Montagne on the far side.  Some doubted their succeeding, but Howe overbore them.  “That’s right, my lord!” cried Bowen, the sailing-master, who looked to the ship’s steering.  “The Charlotte will make room for herself.”  She pushed close under the French ship’s stern, grazing her ensign, and raking her from stern to stem with a withering fire, beneath which fell three hundred men.  A length or two beyond lay the French Jacobin.  Howe ordered the Charlotte to luff, and place herself between the two.  “If we do,” said Bowen, “we shall be on board one of them.”  “What is that to you, sir?” asked Howe quickly.  “Oh!” muttered the master, not inaudibly.  “D——­n my eyes if I care, if you don’t.  I’ll go near enough to singe some of our whiskers.”  And then, seeing by the Jacobins rudder that she was going off, he brought the Charlotte sharp round, her jib boom grazing the second Frenchman as her side had grazed the flag of the first.