fast
as their shot sails would take them, in the hopes of reaching the lee
of Cotentin. Two alone remained with her--remained to share her
fate--the Admirable and Triumphant.

That fate was not yet, however; those three ships had yet a few hours
of existence left to them. Fighting still, still belching forth
flames and destruction, they closed together, and so withstood the
merciless broadsides of the Britannia and Royal Sovereign; then, at
last wounded and shattered--the figure of Louis, his emblem the sun,
and the downtrodden representatives of other nations were long since
shot away and floating, or sunk, in the sea--a favourable wind sprang
up and beneath it they ran, Tourville having already transferred his
flag to L'Ambitieux. Yet, fly as they might, behind them came their
pursuers as fast as they. Delaval in the Royal Sovereign with a small
squadron never halted in the chase. Still pouring volley upon volley
from his bow fire into their sterns, he hung upon them, and, when they
found they could not enter St. Malo, followed them to Cherbourg.

And here their end came. They had struggled into shoal water, forcing
themselves aground in the hope the English men-of-war could not follow
them, and rapidly, in a frenzy of fear, the men were casting
themselves over the sides and gaining the land. The ships were doomed
they knew, their own lives might still be saved. They were none too
soon even for that. The fireships and attenders were soon among those
three. Le Soleil Royal was ablaze first, Le Triumphant next, and then
L'Admirable. As the night came on they lit up the coast for miles
around; as morning dawned they were burnt to the water's edge. Their
own magazines as they took fire assisted in their destruction and
helped by their explosions to finish them.

Meanwhile the remainder of the great French fleet had run for the bay
of La Hogue, and behind them, like sleuthhounds, went Russell,
Shovell, and Rooke with their squadrons.

CHAPTER XXII.

LA HOGUE.

The sun was setting brilliantly behind the peninsula that juts out
into the English Channel and forms the department of La Manche; its
last rays as it fell away behind Cherbourg lit up a strange scene. On
land, looking east, were thirty thousand so-called French troops; they
were, indeed, mostly Irish rapparees whom Louis had thought suitable
for an invasion of England under James and his own marshal,
Bellefonds; among them and in command were Bellef