The Minerve had eleven killed and sixteen wounded. The prisoners were landed at Cherbourg, to await orders from the First Consul, relative to their future disposal. These arrived in a few days, and directed them to be marched to Epinal, the capital of the department of the Vosges, a distance of nearly five hundred miles: intelligence not very welcome to the unfortunate captives, as they had flattered themselves with the hope of being soon exchanged, and kept near the coast for that purpose. Of this event Captain Brenton speaks thus, “This was one of the most trying periods of my life, but one, in which I felt, in a peculiar degree, the benefit of a reliance on Divine Providence. When fully aware of the situation in which the ship was placed shortly after her taking the ground, by the fog clearing away, and the batteries opening their fire upon us, I remember walking aft, and leaning over the taffrail, I offered a short and humble prayer to the Almighty for my beloved wife and child. The effect appeared to be instantaneous. In no period of my life do I remember to have ever been more composed than at that moment, nor did my tranquility ever forsake me during the whole of that trying night.” The concluding particulars of the loss of the Minerve, may be here inserted as given by Captain Brenton. “At length I put the question to my officers, whether any hope remained: all answered in the negative, and recommended surrender. The painful alternative was adopted; and the colours being hauled down, shouts of triumph resounded from the shore. I then went into my cabin, and having destroyed my private signals, proceeded to collect such things as might be most immediately necessary, threw them into my cot, which, though unoccupied through the dreadful night, was hanging up in my cabin. In this I had my plate, and such of my clothes as I could the more easily get at, lashed up and given to my servant. Whilst thus occupied, the master of the French vessel, which had been taken in the preceding evening, and who had been kept below during the night, hearing that the ship had surrendered, made the best of his way to my cabin, and began to console me, ‘Songez mon brave Capitaine, que vous êtes distingué; que vous vous êtes défendu en brave homme; que vous avez seulement subis le sort de la guerre; que les Français sont de braves gens.’ At this moment the batteries renewed their fire, and the panegyrist immediately took to his heels for his place of security, crying out, ‘O les coquins, les marauds,’ and such other terms as seemed at the moment most appropriate for this attack upon a fallen enemy. I then went on deck, and standing up upon the taffrail, waved a white flag, calling out at the same time, ‘Nous, nous sommes rendus.’ The gun brigs also repeated this information, ‘Ils se sont rendus.’