_V.--The Galley (in the hold)._
Let us go back for a minute or two to Tristram.
The oar at which he tugged was one of the starboard tier; and when_L'Heureuse_ missed her stroke, as we have told, it went like asugar-stick, flinging him and his companions back across the bench.Farther than this they could not fly, because the stout chains whichfastened them were but ten feet long. Tristram, indeed, was hurledscarcely so far as the rest, for his seat was the inmost from thegangway, and right against the galley's side; so that he got theshortest swing of the oar.
They scrambled up just as the fire of grape-shot opened. And thenTristram made an appalling discovery.
The hole through which their oar was worked had been split wider bythe crash; and now, looking out, he saw that it lay just opposite themouth of an English cannon. In this position they had been broughtup by the frigate's grappling-irons.
It took him but an instant to see also that the cannon, as it staredhim in the face, was loaded.
The two vessels, moreover, lay so close that by reaching up with hishand he could have laid his hand on its muzzle.
It was a horrible moment. There were four Frenchmen and a Turkranged along the bench beside him. He looked into their faces. Theywere ashen grey to the lips. No one could move to get out of theway: the chains prevented that. The Huguenot was praying wildly.Only the Turk preserved his composure, and even he had turned paleunder his bronze skin.
Somebody cried: "Lie flat!"
In a second every one of Tristram's companions had flung himself flaton the bench. Tristram glanced again at the gun. Even at thatmoment he had enough presence of mind to note that it was pointeddownwards, and at such an angle that those who lay flat mustinfallibly receive all its contents. He noted this even while itseemed that every one of his faculties was frozen up. He felt thathe could move neither hand nor foot; and somehow he knew that since,because of the chain, he could not leave the bench, he must situpright. And so he stiffened his back, laid his hands on his lap,and waited with his eyes on the gun.
Through the port-hole he could see the English gunner. He saw thefuse in his hand. He counted the seconds; wondered, even, how thefellow could be so deliberate. He heard the explosions all around,and speculated. Would the next be his turn? Or the next? Would itbe painful? What was the next world like? And would his body bebadly mangled?
The gunner had the match ready, when the lad's lips moved and a crybroke from them--a cry which astonished him as he uttered it, for hehad no notion that his brain was busy with such matters.
"O! my Father, have pity on my poor soul! I have loved all men andone woman. Give comfort to her, and have mercy on my poor soul!"
As the last word dropped from his lips, a great calm fell upon himand his eyes rested quietly on the gunner's hand as the man set thelighted match to the touch-hole of the gun.
It was night when Tristram opened his eyes again. A pale ray ofmoonlight slanted across his face. His head was pillowed onsomething soft and warm. He lay for awhile and stared at themoonlight; and by degrees he made out that it was pouring through arent in the galley's side. Then he turned his head and liftedhimself a little to see what it was on which his head rested. It wasthe dead body of one of the three overseers, who had been killedalmost by the first shot fired by the frigate.
He pulled himself up and crept towards the bench; then put a handdown to his feet. The ring was there, but no chain. Next he feltalong the bench with a wish--quite stupid--to get back to his seat.His comrades were still lying on their faces. He imagined for amoment that their foolish fears still held them there and he laughedfeebly. He was weak, but felt no pain from any wound, nor suspectedthat he was hurt.
Then he began to eye the fellows roguishly, taking a maliciouspleasure in the continuance of their terror. He tittered again andsuddenly found himself out of patience with them.
"Come, get up--get up! The danger's all over long ago."
He received no answer and put out his hand towards the nearest.It was the Turk--a fellow who had been a janizary, and had thereputation of not knowing what fear was.
"Hullo, Ysouf! Get up, for shame--get up, man! And you--that wecalled so brave!"
Ysouf lay still. Tristram bent forward and took his hand.
The hand came away from the body. It was icy cold.
Still holding it, Tristram leant back and stared; and as he stareda pettish anger took him. He tossed the hand back on the body.And now for the first time he began to hear; and as this lost sensecrept back to him he knew that the place was full of moaning, andthat somewhere close feet were trampling to and fro. The noisecaused him agony, and he put his two hands to his ears.
He was sitting in this posture when he felt something warm and moisttrickle down his body, which was naked to the waist. He took a handfrom his ear and put it to his breast. It was all wet, but in thedarkness nothing could be distinguished. Suspecting, however, thatit must be blood from some wound, and following the smear with hisfingers, he found that his shoulder, near the clavicle was piercedright through. There was no pain.
Then he began to feel himself all over, and found another gash in theleft leg, below the knee. He searched no more, feeling that it wasuseless, as he was bound to die in a little while. The men beforehim and behind him were dead. Of eighteen men on the three bencheshe--who had been blown the full length of the coursier--was the onlyone left; and all owing to the explosion of one cannon only.But such was the manner of grape-shot: after the cartouche of powder,a long tin box of musket-balls rammed in; and as the box breaks,destruction right and left.
As he sat, waiting listlessly for death, the sense of pain camesuddenly upon Tristram; and then he swooned away.