On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French,—woe to France! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance, With the English fleet in view. Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; ‘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, 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. Brief and bitter the debate: 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 With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet, 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? 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 Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this Formidable clear, Make the others follow mine, And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, Right to Solidor past GrÈve, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave, —Keel so much as grate the ground, Why, 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!’ cried his chief. ‘Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief.’ So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave On the o'erlooking GrÈve. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. ‘Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English take the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance, As they cannonade away! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!’ How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's countenance! Out burst all with one accord, ‘This is Paradise for Hell! Then said Damfreville, ‘My friend, I must speak out at the end, Though I find the speaking hard. Praise is deeper than the lips: You have saved the King his ships, You must name your own reward. 'Faith our sun was near eclipse! Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville.’ Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue: ‘Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?— Since 'tis ask and have, I may— Since the others go ashore— Come! A good whole holiday! 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 gone to wrack All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. Go to Paris: rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank! You shall look long enough ere you come to HervÉ Riel. So, for better and for worse, HervÉ Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, HervÉ Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife, the Belle Aurore! Browning. |