“That is the ship the lazy Spaniards undertook to scuttle!” exclaimed Mr Alston after they had picked up all the poor fellows they could find. “However, bear a hand; we have plenty of work before us. There are two seventy-fours. We must destroy them by some means or other.”
When, however, they reached the seventy-fours, they found them full of French prisoners, who seemed inclined to protect them.
“Very well, gentlemen,” shouted Sir Sydney; “it will be a painful necessity to have to burn you in the ships!”
The hint was taken, and the prisoners thankfully allowed themselves to be conveyed to the nearest point of land.
The British ran no little risk in this undertaking, for the French far outnumbered them; but no attempt at rising was made; and now the two ships, Héros and Thémistocle, being cleared of their occupants, were set on fire in every direction, and were soon blazing up brightly.
In every direction similar large bonfires were lighting up the harbour and shores of Toulon, among which the British boats were incessantly plying, carrying off the remaining troops and rescuing the terrified inhabitants.
At length the work of destruction, as far as means would allow, was well-nigh accomplished, when another fearful explosion, even greater than the first, took place, close to where the tender and the boats were at the moment passing.
It was the frigate Montreal. Down came around the boats a complete avalanche of burning timbers, huge guns, masts, spars, and blocks, rattling, and crashing, and hissing into the water. The seamen, already almost exhausted with their exertions, could scarcely attempt even to escape the fiery shower. Many of the poor fellows sank down at their oars, and those in each boat believed that their comrades had been destroyed; but when they drew out of the circle of destruction and mustered once more, not one had been injured.
Although fired on by the Republicans, who had taken possession of Forts Balaguier and Aiguillette, the boats slowly pulled out to join the fleet already outside. A few only, whose crews had strength left, returned to aid the flying inhabitants. The last of the troops had been embarked under the able management of Captain Elphinstone, of the Robust, and other Captains, without the loss of a man, the Robust being the last ship to leave the harbour when the infuriated Republicans, breathing vengeance on the helpless inhabitants, rushed into the city.
The terrible intelligence reached them that even in the suburbs neither age nor sex had been spared. Husbands seized their wives or daughters, mothers their children, and, rushing from their houses, fled towards the water, where their friends had already long ago embarked. Shot and shell were remorselessly fired down on them; numbers were cut in pieces as they fled. Every step they heard behind they thought came from a pursuing foe. Many, unable to reach the boats, preferring instant death to the bayonets of their countrymen, rushed, with their infants in their arms, and perished in the waves.