THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY 2 I I 



far over the sea. About twenty of his smallest 

 ships made their escape by a road which was too 

 perilous for any courage but the courage of 

 despair. In the double darkness of night and of 

 a thick sea fog, they ran, with all their sails spread, 

 through the boiling waves and treacherous rocks 

 of the Race of Alderney, and, by a strange good 

 fortune, arrived without a single disaster at Saint 

 Maloes. The pursuers did not venture to follow 

 the fugitives into that terrible strait, the place of 

 innumerable shipwrecks. . . . 



. . . Russell meanwhile was preparing for an 

 attack. On the afternoon of the twenty-third of 

 May all was ready. A flotilla consisting of sloops, 

 of fireships, and of two hundred boats, was 

 entrusted to the command of Rooke. The whole 

 armament was in the highest spirits. The rowers, 

 flushed by success, and animated by the ihouyht 

 that they were going to fight under the eyes of the 

 French and Irish troops who had been assembled 

 f(jr the purpose of subjugating England, pulled 

 manfully and with loud huzzas towards the six 

 huge wooden castles which lay close to Fort 

 Lisset. The French, thouyh an eminently brave 

 people, have always been more liable to sutlden 

 panics than their phlegmatic neighbours, the Eng- 

 lish and (iermans. On this day there was a panic 

 both in the fleet and in the army. I'fjurvillc 



