De Grasse by this had been practically abandoned to his fate. Even De Vaudreuil's devotion could help him no further now. The _Languedoc_ made one despairing attempt to come to her flagship's rescue, but could not get through. Beaten back by the _Duke_ and another ship, she turned away and fled, hoisting all sail. On board the _Ville de Paris_ every spar had been shot down, stripped from the masts, which had themselves been riddled and were tottering. The rudder had been smashed away, and the ship could not be steered; many guns were disabled; one gun had burst, killing sixteen men and injuring thirty. There was hardly a yard of space along her sides that had not a shot-hole through it. From three to four hundred of her crew--the exact numbers were never returned--were dead or in the cockpit. Those who were still at quarters were dead-beat and nearly dropping from exhaustion, having been without food since daybreak. All the cartridges in the magazines were exhausted, and they had to supply the guns by ladling loose powder into them from open barrels brought up on deck. The 'fighting lanterns' between decks were mostly extinguished, the candles burned out; all was dark below, and they waded ankle-deep and stumbled amid the horrible _debris_ of what that morning had been living human beings. Even then De Grasse would not give in; not at least to any British captain. He stoutly resisted until, a little after six o'clock, he caught sight of Hood's flag at the _Barfleur's_ mast-head, showing above the smoke a little way off. He would wait until Hood came up and then surrender. It was a point of honour: his flagship should lower her colours only to a flagship. [Illustration: ONE OF THE 'FIGHTING LANTERNS' OF THE _VILLE DE PARIS_ Now in the Museum of the Royal United Service Institution, Whitehall.]