ler, seeing no chance of either victory or escape,
chose shipwreck rather than surrender, and ran his flagship straight on
the rocks, with every stitch of canvas drawing full and his flag kept
flying.

[Illustration: The _ROYAL GEORGE_]

Quiberon and Quebec go together, like "the eye of a Hawke and the heart
of a Wolfe"; for Hawke's victory at Quiberon made it certain that
Wolfe's victory at Quebec could not be undone. The French were trying
to unite their west-coast fleets at Morbihan for an invasion of England
or at least a fight to give some of their own shipping a breathing
spell free from blockade. Their admiral, Conflans, was trying to work
his way in under very great difficulties. He was short of trained men,
short of proper stores, and had fewer ships than Hawke. Hawke's
cruisers had driven some of Conflans' storeships into a harbour a
hundred miles away from Brest, where Conflans was trying hard to get
ready for the invasion of England. The result was that these stores
had to be landed and carted across country, which not only took ten
times longer than it would have taken to send them round by sea but
also gave ten times as much trouble. At last Conflans managed to move
out. But he had about as much chance of escape as a fly in a spider's
web; for Hawke had cruisers watching everywhere and a battle fleet
ready to pounce down anywhere. Conflans had been ordered to save his
fleet by all possible means till he had joined the French fleet and
army of invasion. So he is not to be blamed for what he tried to do at
Quiberon.

On the 20th of November he was sailing toward Quiberon Bay when he saw
the vanguard of Hawke's fleet coming up before a rising gale. With
fewer ships, and with crews that had been blockaded so long that they
were no match for the sea-living British, he knew he had no chance in a
stand-up tight in the open, and more especially in the middle of a
storm. So he made for Quiberon, where he thought he would be safe;
because the whole of that intricate Bay is full of rocks, shoals,
shallows, and all kinds of other dangers.

But Hawke came down on the wings of the wind, straight toward the
terrific dangers of the Bay, and flying before a gale which in itself
seemed to promise certain shipwreck; for it blew on-shore. Conflans
ran for his life, got into the Bay, and had begun to form his line of
battle when some distant shots told him that his rear was being
overhauled. Then his last shi