These sudden and unexpected movements overpowered the Cesar, Hector, and Glorieux under a weight of successive broadsides that completely crushed them, separated De Grasse with six companion vessels from his van and his rear, and placed the British main body to windward of the French.  Both sides were disordered, but the French were not only disordered but severed, into three formless groups, not to be united except by a good breeze and exceeding good management, neither of which was forthcoming.  Even to frame a plan operative under such conditions requires in an admiral accuracy of judgment and readiness rarely bestowed; but to communicate his designs and enforce execution upon captains under such a staggering shock of disaster is even more uncommon of accomplishment.  During the remainder of the day light airs from the eastward prevailed, interspersed with frequent calms; conditions unfavorable to movement of any kind, but far more to the French, deprived of concert of purpose, than to the British, whose general course was sufficiently defined by the confusion of the enemy, and the accident of a small group surrounding their commander-in-chief, to capture whom was always a recognized principal object.  The very feebleness of the breeze favored them by comparison; for they had but to go before it with all their light sails, while their opponents, in order to join, were constrained to lateral movement, which did not allow the same canvas.

There was, in short, during the rest of the day an unusual opportunity for success, on such a scale as should be not only brilliant, but really decisive of the future course of the war; opportunity to inflict a maritime blow from which the enemy could not recover.  Does it need to say clearly that here the choice was between a personal triumph, already secured for the successful admiral, and the general security of the nation by the “annihilation”—­the word is Nelson’s—­of the enemy?  That Rodney thus phrased the alternative to himself is indeed most unlikely; but that he failed to act efficiently, to rise to an emergency, for the possible occurrence of which he had had ample time as well as warning to prepare, is but too certain.  Even after the British had got to windward of the enemy and seen their disorder, although the signal for the line was hauled down, none was made for a general chase.  That for close action, hoisted at 1 P.M., was discontinued thirty minutes later, when five full hours of daylight remained.  Even in example the admiral was slack, by Hood’s account.  “He pursued only under topsails (sometimes his foresail set, and at other times his mizzen topsail aback) the greatest part of the afternoon, though the flying enemy had all the sail set their very shattered state would allow.”  Hood, curbed by his superior’s immediate presence, did what he could by putting all sail on the Barfleur, and signalling the various ships of his personal command to do the same; “not one but chased in the afternoon with studding sails below and aloft.”  It was bare poetic justice, therefore, that the Ville de Paris, the great prize of the day, though surrounded by numerous foes, struck formally to him.