Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board. 66 Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they; "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the Formidable' here, with her twelve and eighty guns, Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, 7 Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, And with flow at full beside ? Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide. Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay !” Then was called a council straight;- "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? "Not a minute more to wait! Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach! France must undergo her fate." 15 20 25 30 35 "Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these, A captain? A lieutenant? A mate- first, second, third? No such man of mark, and meet But a simple Breton sailor pressed by 8 A poor coasting pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese." And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel; "Are you mad, you Malouins? 10 Are you cowards, fools, or rogues ? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 11 'Twixt the offing " here and Grève,1 where the river disembogues? 13 Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet, and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues!' 13 40 45 50 Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me, there's a way! Only let me lead the line, And I'll lead them, most and least, by a passage Right to Solidor, past Grève, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave Keel so much as grate the groundWhy, I've nothing but my life; here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron !” cries its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. Still the north wind, by God's grace. See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! See, safe through shoal and rock, 14 Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! 80 The peril, see, is past, All are harboured to the last; And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"—sure as fate, Up the English come-too late! So the storm subsides to calm; On the heights o'erlooking Grève : Hearts that bled are stanched 15 with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance,1 16 Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance 17 'Neath rampired 18 Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance! How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance ! Outburst all with one accord: "Let France-let France's King Thank the man that did the thing! As he stepped in front once more, In the frank blue Breton eyes,- Then said Damfreville, "My friend, 85 00 95 100 105 You have saved the king his ships, Ask to heart's content, and have! or my Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, Since 'tis ask and have I may, Since the others go ashore, Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore !" That he asked, and that he got--nothing more! Name and deed alike are lost; Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell ; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing-smack, In memory of the man but for whom had to wrack 21 gone All that France saved from the fight whence 125 130 |