the greatest danger. The bay of St. Lunar extremely rocky; and the experience of the people of the country, together with what he saw himself, convinced the commodore that it was impossible to remain any longer in this road with tolerable safety. Therefore he moved up to the bay of St. Cas, about three leagues to the westward.
The fleet was separated from the land forces; but it was still easy to preserve a communication between them; and as no attack was yet apprehended, they made no scruple to penetrate farther into the country. In two days they arrived at the village of Matignon, having had feveral skirmishes with small bodies of the enemy, who from time to time appeared on their flanks, and who always disappeared when they were briskly encountered. By this time the Duke d'Aiguillon, governor of Brittany, was advanced within six miles of the English army, with a body of twelve battalions and six squadrons of regular troops, and two regiments of militia. This determined the council of war to retreat; they wanted but three miles to the bay of St. Cas. But in this little march a considerable time was consumed, and the French army was close upon them before they could be completely reimbarked. A very steep hill formed a sort of amphitheatre about the bay of St. Cas, where the embarkation was making; but before the last division, which consisted of all the grenadiers of the army, and the first regiment of guards, could get off, the French had marched down this hill, through a hollow way, and formed themselves in a long line against the few English troops that remained. There remained in this exigency only the expedient of assuming a bold countenance, and attacking them with vigour. The bravery of our troops on this desperate occafion, was worthy of a better fortune. The ships and frigates seconded their efforts, and made a severe fire upon the enemy. All was to no purpose; their ammunition was at last spent; the enemies numbers prevailed; our little body attempted to retreat, but they fell into confusion, they broke, an horrible slaughter followed, many ran into the water, and met their fate in that element. The shore was covered with dead bodies. General Dury was drowned. Sir John Armitage, a young volunteer of great fortune and hopes, was shot through the head. Several officers, men of large fortune and consideration, fell. At length the firing of the frigates ceased, and the French immediately gave quarter. About 400 were made prisoners, 600 were killed and wounded.
In the midst of this carnage, in the midst of a fire that staggered the bravest seamen who managed the boats, Commodore Howe exhibited a noble example of intrepidity and fortitude, by ordering himself to be rowed in his own boat through the thickest of the fire, to encourage all that were engaged in that service, and to bring off as many men as his vessel could carry.
This affair dispirited the people of England and elated the people of France, far more than an affair of so little consequence ought to have done. It was in fact no more than the cutting off a rear guard. There is often more bloodshed in skirmishes in Germany, which make no figure in the Gazettes. And certainly,
