ows of all the others, the boarders were
swarming up the sides, cutlasses in hand and _mouths_, and hurling
grenades on to the French decks.

"Follow!" called St. Georges, as, his foot upon a quarter-gallery
breast rail, his hand grasping the chain, he leaped into the huge
square port of Le Terrible. "Follow, follow!" and as he cried out, the
sailors jumped in behind him.

Yet, when they had entered the great French ship, there was no
resistance offered. She was deserted! As they had come up the
starboard side, her crew, officers and men, had fled over the
larboard--as hard as they could swim or wade they were making for the
shore. Yet her guns on the lower tier forward were firing slowly, one
by one as the boats reached them. A grenade had been hurled in as St.
Georges's party passed under her bows and had set the ship alight
forward, and the flames were spreading rapidly.

"Quick!" St. Georges exclaimed, "ignite her more in the waist and here
in the stern. Cut up some chips, set this after cabin on fire. As it
burns, the flames will fall and explode the magazine. Some men also to
the guns, draw the charges of those giving on us; leave charged those
pointing toward the shore."

All worked with a will--if they could not get at the Frenchmen
themselves, they had, at least, the ships to vent their passions
upon--some tore up fittings, some chopped wood, some ignited tow and
oakum; soon the stern of the Terrible was in flames. Meanwhile, from
Le Fier hard by--so near, indeed, that her bows almost touched the
rudder of the ship they were in--there came an awful explosion. Her
magazine was gone, and as it blew up it hurled half the vessel into
the air, while great burning beams fell on to the deck of the Terrible
and helped to set her more alight.

"To the boats!" ordered St. Georges, "to the boats! There is more work
yet, more to be destroyed." And again, followed by his men, they
descended to their attenders and barges.

But now the tide was retreating, they could do no more that night.
They must wait until the morrow when the tide would come back. Then
there would be, indeed, more work to do. There were still some
transports unharmed; they, too, must be annihilated!

* * * * *

They called the roll that night in the British fleet. There were many
men wounded, but _not one_ killed. So, amid the noise of powder rooms
and magazines exploding, and under a glare from the burning French