accordingly (for it is he, son of that old seaworthy Byng, who once
"blew out" a minatory Spanish Fleet and "an absurd Flame of War" in
the Straits of Messina, and was made Lord Torrington in
consequence,--happily now dead)--Admiral Byng does come on;
and gains himself a name badly memorable ever since. Attacks La
Gallisonniere, in a wide-lying, languid, hovering, uncertain
manner:--"Far too weak" he says; "much disprovided, destitute, by
blame of Ministry and of everybody" (though about the strength of
La Gallisonniere, after all);--is almost rather beaten by La
Gallisonniere; does not in the least, beat him to the right
degree:--and sheers off: in the night-time, straight for Gibraltar
again. To La Gallisonniere's surprise, it is said; no doubt to old
Blakeney and his poor Garrison's, left so, to their rotten
platforms and their own shifts.

Blakeney and Garrison stood to their guns in a manful manner, for
above a month longer; day after day, week after week, looking over
the horizon for some Byng or some relief appearing, to no purpose!
JUNE 14th, there are three available breaches; the walls, however,
are very sheer (a Fortress hewn in the rock): Richelieu scanning
them dubiously, and battering his best, for about a fortnight more,
is ineffectual on Blakeney.

JUNE 27th, Richelieu, taking his measures well, tickling French
honor well, has determined on storm. Richelieu, giving order of the
day, "Whosoever of you is found drunk shall NOT be of the storm-
party" (which produced such a teetotalism as nothing else had
done),--storms, that night, with extreme audacity. The Place has to
capitulate: glorious victory; honorable defence: and Minorca gone.