It is, therefore, not so much to point out the lesson, as to reinforce its teaching by the exemplification of the practical results, that there is advantage in tracing the sequel of events in this battle.  The signal to tack was made when the British van had reached beyond the enemy’s rear, at a very little after 1 P.M. (B3).  This reversed the line of battle, the rear becoming the van, on the port tack.  When done, the new van was about two miles from that of the French (F4); the new rear, in which Byng was fourth from sternmost, was three and a half or four from their rear.  Between this and 2 P.M. came the signals for the ship then leading to keep two points, twenty-five degrees, more to starboard, —­towards the enemy; a measure which could only have the bad effect of increasing the angle which the British line already made with that of the French, and the consequent inequality of distance to be traversed by their vessels in reaching their opponents.  At 2.20 the signal for battle was made, and was repeated by the second in command, Rear-Admiral Temple West, who was in the fourth ship from the van.  His division of six bore up at once and ran straight down before the wind, under topsails only, for their several antagonists; the sole exception being the van-most vessel, which took the slanting direction desired by Byng, with the consequence that she got ahead of her position, had to back and to wear to regain it, and was worse punished than any of her comrades.  The others engaged in line, within point-blank, the rear-admiral hoisting the flag for close action (B4).  Fifteen minutes later, the sixth ship, and rearmost of the van, the Intrepid, lost her foretopmast, which crippled her.

The seventh ship, which was the leader of the rear, Byng’s own division, got out of his hands before he could hold her.  Her captain, Frederick Cornwall, was nephew to the gallant fellow who fell backing Mathews so nobly off Toulon, and had then succeeded to the command of the Marlborough, fighting her till himself disabled.  He had to bring the wind on the starboard quarter of his little sixty-four, in order to reach the seventh in the enemy’s line, which was an eighty-gun ship, carrying the flag of the French admiral.  This post, by professional etiquette, as by evident military considerations, Byng owed to his own flag-ship, of equal force.

The rest of the rear division the commander-in-chief attempted to carry with himself, slanting down; or, as the naval term then had it, “lasking” towards the enemy.  The flag-ship kept away four points—­forty-five degrees; but hardly had she started, under the very moderate canvas of topsails and foresail, to cover the much greater distance to be travelled, in order to support the van by engaging the enemy’s rear, when Byng observed that the two ships on his left—­towards the van—­were not keeping pace with him.  He ordered the main and mizzen topsails to be backed to wait for them.