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By James Fenimore Cooper: Oakes

In 1745, when George II reigned in England, the young Pretender, Charles Edward, made that daring and unsuccessful dash for a crown which came to a bloody end at Culloden in the following year. It is that abortive but gallant effort which furnishes the motive for the action of the novel. Vice-Admiral of the Red, Sir Gervaise Oakes commanded a well-fitted, well-officered, well-manned, homogeneous fleet of ships of the line which had been cruising in the Bay of Biscay. Associated with him was Richard Bluewater, Rear-Admiral of the White, second in command. These two men, both wedded to the service alone, had been shipmates and friends during a naval career of nearly forty years. Oakes was a typical English admiral, a superb sailor, a downright fighter; Bluewater, his complement and opposite, a subtle thinker and a brilliant tactician. The combination was ideal, as was the completeness of a friendship, not to say an affection, as sincere as it was lasting. Nothing had ever broken it; nothing, it was believed, ever would break it. In but one point did the true friends differ. Oakes was a Whig, Bluewater a Tory. It did not seem possible, however, for political considerations to interrupt their warm relations. The bold adventure of Charles Edward bade fair to do that very thing, however. For Bluewater, frank, unworldly sailor that he was, cleverly played upon by politicians, began to waver between the House of Hanover, whose commission he held, and the House of Stuart, to which his heart inclined.

To bring matters to a head M. le Vice-Admiral le Comte de Vervillin sailed from Cherbourg with a fleet of such ships as fairly entitled him to challenge the English fleet of Vice-Admiral Oakes for the mastery of the narrow seas. The latter, more than willing to try out the matter, at once put to sea in a heavy gale of wind, his capital ships weighing anchor in succession, with long intervals between them so as to spread a broad clue to intercept the French. Bluewater with his division brought up the rear. The Rear-Admiral was obsessed with the idea that De Vervillin's course had something to do with the Pretender's effort, and his conscientious scruples threw him into a piteous state of indecision. The Vice-Admiral was not troubled by any such subtle casuistry. He only saw the enemy whom it was his duty to beat when, where, and how he could.