For the situation was that war with France had not yet been formally decreed, and that the flag of truce had gone with the Duke’s Flag Captain, Brooke, to ‘invite’ the French to withdraw their forces, in which case no attack would be made, and the Russians might retire unmolested to Cronstadt. If, however, in three hours the Russian Squadron had not separated from the French, and the French had not signified their acquiescence, the united English and German Fleets together would enforce compliance. The Duke’s secretary, Mr. Rickard, showed me the copy of the message. It was exceedingly firm, but exceedingly conciliatory; praying the French Admiral Planché and the Russian Shestakov to reflect that, in presence of forces so enormously superior, their honour could in no way be touched, and that common dictates of humanity forbade the awful effusion of blood which would be so uselessly shed in the event of a refusal. The ships were all prepared for action,—those with masts appearing to be nearly stripped,—and now I saw that the German Fleet was well out, and steaming directly for us. The officers all seemed a good deal more excited than the Admiral, but still I found that no one believed in the possibility of resistance. The latest news by a despatch vessel represented that the embarkation of troops at Cherbourg, which was closely watched by several of our cruisers, had apparently been stopped, and this, it was felt, gave additional cause to believe in a peaceable solution, as it was made clear that even if the English Fleet only stopped the transports, the whole Franco-Russian game was up. A last telegram from Paris, _viâ_ Madrid, expressed belief that the French Admiral Prémesnil had sailed with orders to return to Brest if the English appeared in observation off the Jahde in greatly superior force. Notwithstanding, there was not a glass in the ships that was not persistently directed upon the _Immortalité_—now about ten miles off, and stopped close to the French Flagship—and her great white flag, for it had been arranged that she should hoist the Dutch ensign under it as the signal that the terms were rejected. The hours drew on, and for perhaps two there was no sign. The distance was too great to make out ordinary flag signals, but sometimes it could be seen that such were hoisted, and one of the signal midshipmen created a fresh stir by affirming that the ships in view were ‘stoking up.’ My heart was in my mouth with the excitement of the moment, but if I was as cool and unconcerned in outward appearance as the officers and men surrounding me, I must have wonderfully belied my real feelings. Suddenly the head signalman called out in a hurried voice, not taking his eye from his glass: ‘The Russians are moving, sir!’