the ship. "You have done
your duty," said Hawke, "in pointing out the risk; and now lay me
alongside of _Le Soleil Royal_."

A French 70-gun ship, _La Superbe_, threw itself betwixt Hawke and
Conflans. Slowly the huge mass of the _Royal George_ bore up, so as to
bring its broadside to bear on _La Superbe_, and then the English guns
broke into a tempest of flame. Through spray and mist the masts of the
unfortunate Frenchman seemed to tumble; a tempest of cries was heard;
the British sailors ran back their guns to reload. A sudden gust
cleared the atmosphere, and _La Superbe_ had vanished. Her top-masts
gleamed wet, for a moment, through the green seas, but with her crew of
650 men she had sunk, as though crushed by a thunderbolt, beneath a
single broadside from the _Royal George_. Then from the nearer hills
the crowds of French spectators saw Hawke's blue flag and Conflans'
white pennon approach each other, and the two great ships, with
slanting decks and fluttering canvas, and rigging blown to leeward,
began their fierce duel. Other French ships crowded to their admiral's
aid, and at one time no less than seven French line-of-battle ships
were pouring their fire into the mighty and shot-torn bulk of the
_Royal George_.

Howe, in the _Magnanime_, was engaged in fierce conflict, meanwhile,
with the _Thesee_, when a sister English ship, the _Montague_, was
flung by a huge sea on the quarter of Howe's ship, and practically
disabled it. The _Torbay_, under Captain Keppel, took Howe's place
with the _Thesee_, and both ships had their lower-deck ports open, so
as to fight with their heaviest guns. The unfortunate Frenchman rolled
to a great sea; the wide-open ports dipped, the green water rushed
through, quenched the fire of the guns, and swept the sailors from
their quarters. The great ship shivered, rolled over still more
wildly, and then, with 700 men, went down like a stone. The British
ship, with better luck and better seamanship, got its ports closed and
was saved. Several French ships by this time had struck, but the sea
was too wild to allow them to be taken possession of. Night was
falling fast, the roar of the tempest still deepened, and no less than
seven huge French liners, throwing their guns overboard, ran for
shelter across the bar of the Vilaine, the pursuing English following
them almost within reach of the spray flung from the rocks. Hawke
then, by signals, brought his fleet to anchor for the