Matthew felt better in his own mind now about the 'success' of the raid. Thousands had been killed at a stroke. An army destroyed. Hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of shipping and supplies destroyed.
But theirs had been the choice. The French had chosen their own course; no one had forced them into it. Even now they were baying like hounds at the British people on the opposite side of the channel, confident in their superiority of numbers, a pack of ravenous wolves, eager to bring down a hunted stag; soon expected to be joined by a forth predator, Holland, already deeply involved in the profitable business of supplying arms, goods and supporting the avaricious aspirations of the other two; France and Spain.
It was the King's Navy, and men like Nelson and Admiral Rockwell who kept them from the shores of Britain; warriors who joined in battle with them at every opportunity, their courage and fortitude confounding the arithmetic of the confrontation. Men who were ready to lay down their very lives and frequently did, to perpetuate freedom of their island home.