was dark and the sea rough, but the electric light both from ships and forts threw a ghastly glare over the black waters. From the land there seemed to leap one continuous sheet of blood-red flame, and the roar of the cannon, mingling with the thunder of the sea, made the night hideous with tumult. For hours the ships pounded away. Their ponderous shells, although necessarily fired wildly, caused fearful havoc. Several of these shells burst in the centre of the town, maiming and slaying hundreds of the panic-stricken inhabitants, and laying whole streets in crumbling ruins, while the antiquated citadel fort was knocked to pieces and its magazine exploded. The magnificent breakwater, which had been erected at such enormous cost and labour, was seriously damaged, as it was purposely fired at by the ironclads; and Smeaton's wonderful lighthouse, that had been erected on it when the new Eddystone was built, was shivered to atoms. But, in spite of this hellish storm of fire, a little band of devoted men stole from behind the breakwater in a torpedo boat, and in the heat of the battle managed to escape observation until close to one of the French ironclads. A rain of bullets from machine-guns was instantly directed against the boat; but it was too late; she had got too near, and although that withering rain of fire must have destroyed her crew, the torpedo touched the side of the iron monster, and the next moment the boiling sea was strewn with her fragments, amongst which many of her crew struggled in the throes of death, and their cries of agony were wafted to the shore. The destruction was appalling, and it is doubtful if a single soul was saved, as the other vessels were too far off to render assistance. Just as the grey light of dawn was creeping over the heaving sea, two well-directed shots from the fort on Drake Island struck one of the three remaining ironclads, named La Gloire, close to the water-line, and almost in the same spot. A fearful gash was ripped in the vessel's side, and it was at once seen that she was in sore straits. The other ships came to her assistance, and the crew of La Gloire—or, at any rate, a large number of them—escaped in their boats; but, in about a quarter of an hour after being struck, she suddenly heeled over, and, throwing up her bows, sank beneath the waves. Her sister ships continued to cruise
