by a reliable guide who knew the Bay thoroughly, intended to take up a fairly safe, sheltered position on the lee side, and hoped that the wind would force Hawke, who was not familiar with the ground, on to the reefs and shoals, where his fleet would be destroyed by the storm and the French guns together.  But Hawke, whose name signally represents the bold, swift, sure character of the man, understood the design, took the risk, avoided the danger, and clutched the prey.  Following the French as rapidly as wind and canvas could take him, he caught their rearmost vessels, smashed them up, battered the whole fleet successively into flight or splinters, and himself lost only two vessels, which ran upon a shoal.  Plodding prose does scant justice to the extraordinary brilliancy of Hawke’s victory, described by Admiral Mahan as “the Trafalgar of this war.”  We cannot pass on without quoting one of Mr. Newbolt’s graphic verses:—­

“’Twas long past the noon of a wild November day
When Hawke came swooping from the west;
He heard the breakers thundering in Quiberon Bay,
But he flew the flag for battle, line abreast. 
Down upon the quicksands, roaring out of sight,
Fiercely blew the storm wind, darkly fell the night,
For they took the foe for pilot and the cannon’s glare for light,
When Hawke came swooping from the West.”

“They took the foe for pilot:”  that is a most excellent touch, both poetical and true.

The formidable was the first to be disposed of in the fight.  She was an 80-gun line-of-battle ship, carrying the flag of Admiral du Verger.  Her position being in the rear of the squadron, she was early engaged by the resolution, and in addition received the full broadside of every other British ship that passed her.  The Admiral fell mortally wounded, and two hundred on board were killed.  She struck her colours at four o’clock after receiving a terrible battering, and was the only French ship captured by Hawke’s fleet.  All the others were sunk, burnt, or beached, or else escaped.  The young Laperouse was amongst the wounded, though his hurts were not dangerous; and, after a brief period spent in England as a prisoner of war, he returned to service.

An amusing rhyme in connection with this engagement is worth recalling.  Supplies for Hawke’s fleet did not come to hand for a considerable time after they were due, and in consequence the victorious crews had to be put on “short commons.”  Some wag—­it is the way of the British sailor to do his grumbling with a spice of humour—­put the case thus:—­

“Ere Hawke did bang
Monsieur Conflans,
You sent us beef and beer;
Now Monsieur’s beat
We’ve nought to eat,
Since you have nought to fear.”