Cádiz, itself, like a moving panorama, unfolded itself before our eyes, displaying in turn every aspect of its vast amphitheatre. The low sun, illuminating the glass in its myriad windows, sprinkled it with living sparks of gold, and its buildings lay so purely white above the blue water that it looked as if it might have been that moment called into being, or raised from the sea like the fanciful city of San Genaro. I could see the wall extending from the mole as far as the fort of Santa Catalina; I could distinguish the bastions of Bonete and Orejon, and recognize the caleta; and my pride rose as I reflected what I had risen from and where I now was. At the same time the sound of the bells of the waking city came to my ear like some mysterious music, calling the inhabitants to early mass, with all the confused clamor of the bells of a large town. Now they seemed to me to ring gladly, and send good wishes after us—I listened to them as if they were human voices bidding us Godspeed; then again they tolled sadly and dolefully—a knell of misfortune; and as we sailed further and further away their music grew fainter till it was lost in space.
The fleet slowly made its way out of the bay—some of the ships taking several hours in getting fairly to sea. Marcial meanwhile made his comments on each, watching their behavior, laughing them to scorn if they were clumsy, and encouraging them with paternal advice if they were swift and well-handled.
“What a lump that Don Federico is!” he exclaimed as he looked at the Príncipe de Astúrias commanded by Gravina. “There goes Mr. Corneta!” he exclaimed as he saw the Bucentaure with Villeneuve on board. “He was a clever man that called you the Rayo!” (Thunderbolt) he cried ironically, as he watched the ship so named, which was the least manageable of all the fleet. “Well done Papá Ignacio!” he added, pointing to the Santa Ana commanded by Álava.
“Hoist your topsail properly, senseless oaf!” he went on, addressing Dumanoir’s ship, Le Formidable. “That Frenchman keeps a hairdresser to crimp the topsail and to clew up the sails with curling tongs!”
Towards evening the sky clouded over, and as night fell we could see Cádiz, already at a great distance, gradually vanish in the mist till the last faint outline became one with the darkness. The fleet then steered to the Southward.
All night I kept close to Marcial, as soon as I had seen my master comfortably settled in his cabin. The old sailor, eagerly listened to by a couple of veteran comrades and admirers, was explaining Villeneuve’s plan of battle.
“Mr. Corneta,” said he, “has divided the fleet into four lines. The vanguard led by Álava consists of six vessels; the centre, likewise of six, is commanded by Mr. Corneta in person; the rear, again of six, is under Dumanoir, and the reserve of twelve ships is led by Don Federico. This seems to me not badly planned. I imagine that the French and Spanish ships are mixed, in order that they may not leave us impaled on the bull’s horns as they did at Finisterre.
“From what Don Alfonso tells me the Frenchman says that if the enemy comes up to leeward we are to form in line of battle and attack at once. … This is very pretty talk in the stateroom; but do you think the Señorito will be such a booby as to come up to leeward of us? Oh yes—his lordship has not much brains in his figurehead and is sure to let himself be caught in that trap! Well! we shall see—if we see, what the Frenchman expects!—If the enemy gets to windward and attacks us we are to receive him in line of battle, and as he must divide to attack if he does not succeed in breaking our line, it will be quite easy to beat him. Everything is easy to Mr. Corneta.” (Applause.) “He says too that he shall give no signals, but expects every captain to do his best. If we should see what I have always prophesied, ever since that accursed subsidy treaty, and that is—but I had better hold my tongue.—Please God … ! Well I have always told you that Mr. Corneta does not understand the weapons he has in his hands; there is not room in his head for fifty ships. What can you think of an admiral, who, the day before a battle, sends for his captains and tells each of them to do what he thinks will win the day.—After that!” (Strong expressions of sympathy.) “However, we shall see what we shall see.—But do you just tell me: If we Spanish want to scuttle a few of those English ships, are we not strong enough and many enough to do it? Then why in the world need we ally ourselves with the French, who would not allow us to do anything we had a mind to, but would have us dancing attendance at the end of their towline? Whenever we have had to work with them they have got us into mischief and we have had the worst of it. Well—may God and the Holy Virgin del Cármen be on our side, and rid us of our French friends forever and ever, Amen.” (Great applause.)
All his audience agreed heartily; the discussion was continued till a late hour, rising from the details of naval warfare to the science of diplomacy. The night was fine and we ran before a fresh breeze—I must be allowed to say “We” in speaking of the fleet. I was so proud of finding myself on board the Santísima Trinidad that
