De Grasse's business, on the other hand, was to get away without further fighting if he could, or at least to try and re-form. It was not an easy task, in the scattered state of his fleet and in the presence of an enemy who had the weather-gage. The _Ville de Paris_ signalled for all to re-form line on the ships farthest to leeward, at the point farthest off from the British, and she headed in that direction herself. It was 'playing for safety,' so to speak, at the cost of abandoning some of his ships. What the rally so far to leeward would inevitably mean for certain of De Grasse's worst-damaged ships was soon seen. The more manageable of the French ships were able to make their way to leeward; but it was another matter for the cripples--in especial for the shattered trio--for the dismasted _Glorieux_ and the partially wrecked _Cesar_ and _Hector_. For them it meant that they were to be left to their fate, left lying, between the two fleets, hardly able to move at all, full in the way of the advancing British. And so it proved in the result. On the hapless three, in due course, on each in her turn, fell the first blows of the reopening battle. The _Glorieux_ was the first of the French to yield, in spite of an extremely gallant effort to save her. About one o'clock, as the breeze began to freshen, the French frigate _Richmond_ was ordered to close the _Glorieux_ and pass a towing cable on board. The effort was made under fire, for Rodney's nearest ships were already within range of the _Glorieux_. Midshipman Denis Decres, _aspirant de marine_ of the _Richmond_, had charge of the boat, round which the English cannon-balls splashed on all sides. He did his work, despite its difficulties, and won widespread fame and promotion for his gallantry. He lived to become an admiral, Napoleon's favourite Minister of Marine and a Peer of France, Duc Decres. On his grand monument in Pere la Chaise is a sculptured panel in relief, to commemorate this particular incident in Admiral Decres' career. It is elaborately carved, and represents a naval battle in grey marble, smoke-clouds, cannon firing, and so forth, with, in the centre, a small boat with a rope, a boy standing up at the stern, and near by a big dismasted man-of-war. Over the panel is the legend--'Remorque portee au _Glorieux_: 1782.' The attempt, however, was palpably a hopeless one. The stricken seventy-four was water-logged and could hardly stir. The officers of the _Glorieux_ recognised the state of things at once. They hailed across to the frigate to cast off the tow and shift for herself. De Mortemart, the captain of the _Richmond_, however, was not inclined to abandon a consort in distress. Although some of the British ships were already threatening to cut him off, as well as the _Glorieux_, he flatly refused to leave her. After that, as the only thing to be done, the hopeless ship's company of the _Glorieux_ cut the rope. So the two ships parted.