The desire to be back in his place in Parliament, in order that he might expose the malpractices of the Maltese Admiralty Court (this is the motive assigned by himself, and was doubtless that of which he was most conscious), induced Cochrane to apply for leave to bring the _Impérieuse_ home to England. It was granted with a facility which throws some doubt on his theory that the Admiralty feared his presence; and early in March, 1809, he dropped anchor in Plymouth Sound. Unhappily for himself, Cochrane was selected for a special piece of service before he could resume his Parliamentary work. In February of this year a French squadron had slipped out of Brest, with orders to drive off the British seventy-fours which were then watching L’Orient, to pick up three more ships at anchor there under Commodore Troude, and then to proceed to the West Indies to relieve Martinique. Admiral Willaumez, the French commander, did not escape the vigilance of the Channel squadron. His fleet was sighted at sea, followed till it entered the Pertuis d’Antioche, between the islands of Ré and Oléron, and very soon a blockading force collected under Admiral Gambier. The outcries of the London and Liverpool merchants roused the Admiralty to make great exertions for the destruction of an armament which was designed to operate in the West Indies, and would, by its mere presence in those waters, have greatly disturbed English trade. In an evil hour for Cochrane, my Lords remembered that he was well acquainted with this part of the French coast, and they resolved to send him to execute an attack on the enemy’s ships. Very reluctantly, for he knew how ill he was likely to be received by officers whom he would practically supersede, he undertook the work. He prepared a flotilla of explosion vessels and fire-ships. In April the _Impérieuse_ had joined Gambier’s squadron. A detailed account of the action which followed would be out of place here. Its rather melancholy history is to be read in Cochrane’s “Autobiography,” and the Minutes of the court martial on Lord Gambier. The squadron was in an indifferent moral condition, divided by sour professional factions, and impatient of its Admiral, a brave but weak officer, chiefly known as what was called in the navy a “blue light,” that is a pious man of a somewhat Methodistical turn. Very little zeal was shown in supporting Cochrane. The attack was made on the night of April 11th, and whatever the _Impérieuse_ could do was magnificently done. The French fleet of eight line-of-battle ships, and some smaller vessels, had withdrawn to the Basque Roads, at the mouth of the Charente, and had fortified itself with a heavy boom. Towards that boom the English explosion and fire-ships were driven by wind and tide after dark on the 11th. It is doubtful whether more than one of them reached it--but that one was commanded by Cochrane himself. She was brought up to the boom at half a cable’s length off the French frigate _Indienne_, and there exploded, scattering the boom all over the mouth of the Charente. Through the opening thus made a few English vessels passed. They were a mere handful, and might have been sunk by the fire of the French, but our enemies were panic stricken. They cut their cables, and ran ashore. When day broke the French ships were fast aground, and might every one have been destroyed; but Lord Gambier was an officer of the stamp peculiarly hateful to Nelson. He was prompt to conclude that enough had been done, and was loth to risk ships and men in what he thought an unnecessary way. In vain did Cochrane, who had now returned to the _Impérieuse_, hoist signal after signal urging the Admiral to attack. He told him that the enemy were ashore, and could be destroyed; that they would get off if they were not stopped; that they were actually preparing to get off. It skilled not, and Gambier remained stolidly at anchor miles off. At last Cochrane, who by this time was nearly rabid with rage, work, and want of sleep, flew into a Berserker fury. He deliberately drifted the _Impérieuse_ stern first under the guns of the French liners, and then signalled that he was overpowered and in need of assistance. This desperate measure, worthy of Nelson in his most splendid moments, did at last force Admiral Gambier’s hand. Some vessels were sent--when it was well-nigh too late to do any service at all--and distinctly too late to do all that ought to have been done. Three of the French liners were destroyed, but the others by throwing their guns overboard and starting their water, were able to grovel over the mud-bar of the Charente, and escape into a pool out of reach up the river. They never appeared in the West Indies certainly, but the work was half done.