their numbers we did not fear
them. Proud we were of our ship, and prouder still was our admiral of
her and her crew and the fleet he commanded. While we were in the Gulf
of Lyons, after it had been blowing hard all day, it came on one dark
night to blow harder still, and, without warning, first our main and
then our mizen-topmast went over the side, and lastly the foremast went
altogether, so that we no longer could carry sail on it. What a
crippled wreck we looked in the morning! There was a thick fog: not one
of the squadron could be seen. We were boasting the day before that we
were ready to meet more than an equal number of the finest ships the
French could bring against us; and now we lay docked of our wings, and
scarcely able to contend with the smallest frigate. Providence was
watching over us, and we had good reason to believe this when some time
afterwards we learned that that very day the French fleet sailed from
Toulon, and passed within a few miles of us, while we were hid from them
by the fog. At last Captain Ball, in the `Alexander,' came up, and
towed us into the harbour of San Pietro in Sardinia, where in four days,
with the aid of his and other two ships' companies, we got completely
refitted and ready for sea. Away we went in search of the French fleet,
with General Bonaparte himself on board. We heard of the French at
Gozo, and our admiral would have attacked them there, but they had gone;
then on we sailed for Egypt, hoping to find them off Alexandria, but not
a sign of them could we discover. If we had had our frigates, we should
have found them out fast enough. Leaving Alexandria, we steered for
Syracuse, where we provisioned and watered; we visited the Morea; we
hunted along the Greek coast. At last we entered the Gulf of Coron,
where Captain Troubridge brought us the news that the French fleet had
been seen steering from Candia for Egypt four weeks before. Instantly
all sail was made for Alexandria. Still we scarcely expected to find
the French fleet there. Great then was our joy when the signal was seen
flying from the masthead of the `Zealous,' Captain Hood, that the
enemy's fleet were moored in Aboukir Bay. Not a moment was lost in
clearing the ships for action. We all knew that we had hot work before
us. We found the French fleet moored in a sort of curve in the bay, but
far enough from the shore to let some of our ships get inside of them;
that is, between them and the land