Chapter 30 - Page 2

had some ideas of the new philosophy which was just beginning to dawn upon
the world; but the cordage of his ship, and the lines of a mathematical
problem, equally presented labyrinths he had never threaded.

It was perhaps fortunate for the safety of all in her, that la belle
Fontange possessed an inferior officer, in the person of a native of
Boulogne-sur-Mer, who was quite competent to see that she kept the proper
course, and that she displayed none of the top-gallants of her pride, at
unpropitious moments. The ship itself was sufficiently and finely moulded
of a light and airy rig, and of established reputation or speed. If it was
defective in any thing, it had the fault, in common with its commander, of
a want of sufficient solidity to resist the vicissitudes and dangers of
the turbulent element on which it was destined to act.

The vessels were now within a mile of each other. The breeze was steady,
and sufficiently fresh for all the ordinary evolutions of a naval combat;
while the water was just quiet enough to permit the ships to be handled
with confidence and accuracy. La Fontange was running with her head to the
eastward, and, as she had the advantage of the wind, her tall tracery of
spars leaned gently in the direction of her adversary. The Coquette was
standing on the other tack, and necessarily inclined from her enemy. Both
vessels were stripped to their top-sails, spankers, and jibs, though the
lofty sails of the Frenchman were fluttering in the breeze, like the
graceful folds of some fanciful drapery. No human being was distinctly
visible in either fabric, though dark clusters around each mast-head
showed that the ready top-men were prepared to discharge their duties,
even in the confusion and dangers of the impending contest. Once or twice,
la Fontange inclined her head more in the direction of her adversary; and
then, sweeping up again to the wind, she stood on in stately beauty The
moment was near when the ships were about to cross each other, at a point
where a musket would readily send its messenger across the waiter that lay
between them. Ludlow, who closely watched each change of position, and
every rise and fall of the breeze, went on the poop, and swept the horizon
with his glass, for the last time before his ship should be enveloped in
smoke. To his surprise, he discovered a pyramid of canvas rising above the
sea, in the direction of the wind. The sail was clearly visible to the
naked eye, and had only escaped earlier observation in the duties of so
urgent a moment. Calling the master to his side, he inquired his opinion
concerning the character of the second stranger. But Trysail confessed it
exceeded even his long-tried powers of observation to say more than that
it was a ship running