his enemies. His supplies were exhausted, but he was expecting these in vessels which had been sent from Madras to Gudalur. Turning on that eventful morning his longing eyes towards the sea to spy, if he could, the expected vessels, Coote saw, and Haidar saw, not the English flag, but the squadron of the Chevalier d'Orves, guarding the coast and cutting off from the English army all chances of supply. Coote, a capable soldier, recognised at once the hopelessness of his position. The only chance of escape was to force Haidar to a battle. He tried every expedient to draw the Asiatic warrior. But Haidar was too wary. He recognised the position as clearly as did Coote, and he was not to be drawn.
Haidar knew, in fact, that, barring accidents, Coote must surrender. He therefore communicated with D'Orves, and begged him to land the regiment he had with him, pointing out to him that the only army possessed by England in Southern India was at his mercy, and that Madras was garrisoned by but five hundred invalids.
Never had France such an opportunity. It was an absolute certainty. There was neither risk nor chance about it. The English fleet under Sir Edward Hughes was off the western coast. D'Orves had but to remain quietly where he was for a few days and the English force must be starved into surrender. Sir Eyre Coote saw it, Haidar Alí saw it, every man in the army saw it: every man with the squadron, one only excepted, saw it. The exception was D'Orves himself. But little
