"Aye, and leave nought out!" another pressed. "Well…" Lewrie said, unwillingly forced to his feet again by their enthusiasm and the chance to preen for an audience. "I will need the biscuits, nuts, and such, if you really insist."

A row of salted biscuits quickly formed the Dutch coast, while walnuts became ships of the line, and smaller hickories became frigates and sloops of war. Lewrie looked at his creation, trying to picture a bird's view from the confused, smoke and haze-riddled scene he'd had from his quarterdeck, wondering where or how to start to explain it at all. How does one re-organise chaos?

"When we sighted them, the wind was out of the Nor'Nor'west and fairly strong," he said, arrowing a hand, slant-wise, at the long line of Dutch ships. "I'm told they had been sailing Easterly, making for Calais and the Channel, but came about when our scouting frigates got hull-up on 'em."

"Running," the abstemious gentleman pronounced. "Or luring us into shoal water, where their shallow-draught ships could fight, sir," Lewrie corrected him. "The coast was only five miles or so to loo'rd, and it shoals quickly, like tilting this table just a bit… at low tide, a man could wade out half a mile, and be only up to his chest by then. Last cast of the log showed ten fathom… only sixty feet of water."

"We'll need a translator, for all the nautical jargon!" one of the diners hooted.

"The Dutch had sixteen ships of the line… well, lighter than ours, really, and not all of 'em built as warships. Converted Dutch East Indiamen trapped in home ports," Lewrie went on. "Admiral Duncan had eight ships in his division, with his flagship, Venerable, in the very lead. Here," he said, pointing to the easternmost gaggle. "And Vice-Admiral