ships from the rear were consequently directed to place themselves ahead of the van, closing the interval, while others shifted their berths, according to specific directions.  The order as finally assumed (Fig. 3) was as follows.  The van ship was anchored so close to the shore that it was impossible to pass within her, or, with the prevailing wind, even to reach her, because of a point and shoal just outside, covering her position.  From her the line extended in a west-north-west direction to the fifteenth ship,—­the Barfleur, 98, Hood’s flagship,—­when it turned to north, the last six ships being on a north and south line.  These six, with their broadsides turned to the westward, prevented a column passing from south to north, the only way one could pass, from enfilading the main line with impunity.  The latter covered with its guns the approach from the south.  All the ships had springs on their cables, enabling them to turn their sides so as to cover a large arc of a circle with their batteries.

[Illustration]

At daylight on the following morning, January 26th, the ships began changing their places, the French being then seven or eight miles distant in the south-south-east.  At 7 A.M. they were seen to be approaching in line of battle, under a press of sail, heading for the British van.  The Canada, which had begun at 5 A.M. to tackle her 200-odd fathoms of cable, was obliged to cut, whereby “we lost the small bower anchor and two cables with one 8-inch and one 9-inch hawsers, which were bent for springs.”  The ship had to work to windward to close with the fleet, and was therefore ordered by the Rear-Admiral to keep engaging under way, until 10.50, when a message was sent her to anchor in support of the rear.  The action began between 8.30 and 9 A.M., the leading French ship heading for the British van, seemingly with the view of passing round and inside it.  Against this attempt Hood’s precautions probably were sufficient; but as the enemy’s vessel approached, the wind headed her, so that she could only fetch the third ship.  The latter, with the vessels ahead and astern, sprung their batteries upon her.  “The crash occasioned by their destructive broadsides was so tremendous on board her that whole pieces of plank were seen flying from her off side, ere she could escape the cool concentrated fire of her determined adversaries."[111] She put her helm up, and ran along outside the British line, receiving the first fire of each successive ship.  Her movement was imitated by her followers, some keeping off sooner, some later; but de Grasse in his flagship not only came close, but pointed his after yards to the wind,[112] to move the slower.  As he ported his helm when leaving the Barfleur, this brought these sails aback, keeping him a still longer time before the British ships thrown to the rear.  “In this he was supported by those ships which were astern, or immediately ahead of him.  During this short but tremendous conflict in that part of the field of battle, nothing whatever could be seen of them for upwards of twenty minutes, save de Grasse’s white flag at the main-topgallant masthead of the Ville de Paris, gracefully floating above the immense volumes of smoke that enveloped them, or the pennants of those ships which were occasionally perceptible, when an increase of breeze would waft away the smoke."[113]