ng fast; and
Buonaparte had just begun his Italian victories. So the Spanish
Court--or at least Godoy, 'Prince of Peace'--sought to make profit
out of the French Republic. About the first profit which it made
was the battle of St. Vincent; about the second, the loss of
Trinidad.

On February 14, while Jervis and Nelson were fighting off Cape St.
Vincent, Harvey and Abercrombie came into Carriacou in the
Grenadines with a gallant armada; seven ships of the line, thirteen
other men-of-war, and nigh 8000 men, including 1500 German jagers,
on board.

On the 16th they were struggling with currents of the Bocas, piloted
by a Mandingo Negro, Alfred Sharper, who died in 1836, 105 years of
age. The line-of-battle ships anchored in the magnificent land-
locked harbour of Chaguaramas, just inside the Boca de Monos. The
frigates and transports went up within five miles of Port of Spain.

Poor Chacon had, to oppose this great armament, 5000 Spanish troops,
300 of them just recovering from yellow fever; a few old Spanish
militia, who loved the English better than the French; and what
Republican volunteers he could get together. They of course
clamoured for arms, and demanded to be led against the enemy, as to
this day; forgetting, as to this day, that all the fiery valour of
Frenchmen is of no avail without officers, and without respect for
those officers. Beside them, there lay under a little fort on
Gaspar Grande island, in Chaguaramas harbour--ah, what a Paradise to
be denied by war--four Spanish line-of-battle ships and a frigate.
Their admiral, Apodaca, was a foolish old devotee. Their crews
numbered 1600 men, 400 of whom were in hospital with yellow fever,
and many only convalescent. The terrible Victor Hugues, it is said,
offered a band of Republican sympathisers from Guadaloupe: but
Chacon had no mind to take that Trojan horse within his fortress.
'We have too many lawless Republicans here already. Should the King
send me aid, I will do my duty to preserve his colony for the crown:
if not, it must fall into the hands of the English, whom I believe
to be generous enemies, and more to be trusted than treacherous
friends.'

What was to be done? Perhaps only that which was done. Apodaca set
fire to his ships, either in honest despair, or by orders from the
Prince of Peace. At least, he would not let them fall into English
hands. At three in the morning Port of Spain woke up