silence the
result of this terrible scene.

"Rear-admiral Magon!" said the Emperor, "you will see that the orders
which I have given are executed instantly. As for you, sir," continued
he, turning to Admiral Bruix, "you will leave Boulogne within twenty-four
hours, and retire to Holland. Go!" His Majesty returned at once to
headquarters; some of the officers, only a small number, however, pressed
in parting the hand that the admiral held out to them.

Rear-admiral Magon immediately ordered the fatal movement commanded by
the Emperor; but hardly had the first dispositions been made when the sea
became frightful to behold, the sky, covered with black clouds, was
furrowed with lightning, the thunder roared incessantly, and the wind
increased to a gale. In fact, what Admiral Bruix had foreseen occurred;
a frightful tempest scattered the boats in every direction, and rendered
their condition desperate. The Emperor, anxious and uneasy, with lowered
head and crossed arms, was striding up and down the shore, when suddenly
terrible cries were heard. More than twenty gunboats, filled with
soldiers and sailors, had just been driven on the shore; and the poor
unfortunates who manned them, struggling against furious waves, were
imploring help which none could venture to render. The Emperor was
deeply touched by this sight, while his heart was torn by the
lamentations of an immense crowd which the tempest had collected on the
shore and the adjoining cliffs. He beheld his generals and officers
stand in shuddering horror around him, and wishing to set an example of
self-sacrifice, in spite of all efforts made to restrain him, threw
himself into a lifeboat, saying, "Let me alone; let me alone! They must
be gotten out of there." In an instant the boat filled with water, the
waves dashed over it, and the Emperor was submerged, one wave stronger
than the others threw his Majesty on the shore, and his hat was swept
off.

Electrified by such courage, officers, soldiers, sailors, and citizens
now began to lend their aid, some swimming, others in boats; but, alas!
they succeeded in saving--only a very small number of the unfortunate men
who composed the crews of the gunboats, and the next day the sea cast
upon the shore more than two hundred men, and with them the hat of the
conqueror of Marengo.

The next was a day of mourning and of grief, both in Boulogne and the
camp. The inhabitants and soldiers covered the beach, searching
anxiously