That gap was filling with a rolling wall of spent powder smoke, but even from the deck they could espy the spectral shapes of two light Dutch warships, hesitantly hovering under reduced sail, and firing at Venerable. Venerable, already busy with her larboard guns, replied to that harassing long-range fire with a starboard broadside. The Dutch brig was swatted away, much like a pesky midge; great chunks of timber were blown from her sides and bulwarks, while a sudden hurricane erupted 'round her hull and waterline, like massive breakers crashing on a rocky shoreline.

"And just how does one say 'oops' in Dutch?" Lewrie chortled in glee, as his crew cheered the sight of an enemy half-smashed to matchwood in a twinkling!

Venerable then swung back to larboard, abandoning the equally hurt Staten-Generaal to turn her left-hand artillery against the starboard side of the prominently flag-bedecked Dutch admiral's ship.

"Deck, there!" a lookout stationed atop the mizzenmast called. " 'Ware astern an' larboard! Our liners!"

Lewrie turned and frowned, for there were Bedford and Director, not a quarter-mile off, with about a cable's worth between them as they surged forward to the battle line. In the middle distance beyond was their consort Lancaster. They weren't steering directly for that gap, but seemed to want to sidle Eastward along the Dutch line, to the windward side of Ardent, Venerable, and Triumph.

"Avast, Mister Langlie," Lewrie said with a scowl. "Hold this course, instead. We're blocked." He peered aloft; yes, they still had Engage To Leeward and Close Action signals flying. So why the Devil ain't they doin' it? he groused to himself.

Did Proteus stand on much longer, though, she'd run afoul of Venerable's group. As well, she couldn't stand sharp to windward, for fear of masking the Bedford group's guns, if not come nigh to a collision with one of them!

The wind? He shifted his gaze to the commissioning pendant at the mainmast truck.