The Dynasts: An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon Part 31

A PETTY OFFICER

Sir, they say That he was shot some hour, or half, ago.-- With dandyism raised to G.o.dlike pitch He stalked the deck in all his jewellery, And so was. .h.i.t.

MAGENDIE

Then Fortune shows her face!

We have scotched England in dispatching him. [He watches.]

Yes! He commands no more; and Lucas, joying, Has taken steps to board. Look, spars are laid, And his best men are mounting at his heels.

VILLENEUVE

Ah, G.o.d--he is too late! Whence came the hurl Of heavy grape? The smoke prevents my seeing But at brief whiles.--The boarding band has fallen, Fallen almost to a man.--'Twas well a.s.sayed!

MAGENDIE

That's from their "Temeraire," whose vicious broadside Has cleared poor Lucas' decks.

VILLENEUVE

And Lucas, too.

I see him no more there. His red planks show Three hundred dead if one. Now for ourselves!

[Four of the English three-deckers have gradually closed round the "Bucentaure," whose bowsprit still sticks fast in the gallery of the "Santisima Trinidad." A broadside comes from one of the English, resulting in worse havoc on the "Bucentaure." The main and mizzen masts of the latter fall, and the boats are beaten to pieces. A raking fire of musketry follows from the attacking ships, to which the "Bucentaure" heroically continues still to keep up a reply.

CAPTAIN MAGENDIE falls wounded. His place is taken by LIEUTENANT DAUDIGNON.]

VILLENEUVE

Now that the fume has lessened, code my biddance Upon our only mast, and tell the van At once to wear, and come into the fire.

[Aside] If it be true that, as HE sneers, success Demands of me but cool audacity, To-day shall leave him nothing to desire!

[Musketry continues. DAUDIGNON falls. He is removed, his post being taken by LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. Another crash comes, and the deck is suddenly enc.u.mbered with rigging.]

FOURNIER

There goes our foremast! How for signalling now?

VILLENEUVE

To try that longer, Fournier, is in vain Upon this haggard, scorched, and ravaged hulk, Her decks all reeking with such gory shows, Her starboard side in rents, her stern nigh gone!

How does she keep afloat?-- "Bucentaure," O lucky good old ship!

My part in you is played. Ay--I must go; I must tempt Fate elsewhere,--if but a boat Can bear me through this wreckage to the van.

FOURNIER

Our boats are stove in, or as full of holes As the cook's skimmer, from their cursed b.a.l.l.s!

[Musketry. VILLENEUVE'S Head-of-Staff, DE PRIGNY, falls wounded, and many additional men. VILLENEUVE glances troublously from ship to ship of his fleet.]

VILLENEUVE

How hideous are the waves, so pure this dawn!-- Red-frothed; and friends and foes all mixed therein.-- Can we in some way hail the "Trinidad"

And get a boat from her?

[They attempt to distract the attention of the "Santisima Trinidad" by shouting.]

Impossible; Amid the loud combustion of this strife As well try holloing to the antipodes!...

So here I am. The bliss of Nelson's end Will not be mine; his full refulgent eve Becomes my midnight! Well; the fleets shall see That I can yield my cause with dignity.

[The "Bucentaure" strikes her flag. A boat then puts off from the English ship "Conqueror," and VILLENEUVE, having surrendered his sword, is taken out from the "Bucentaure." But being unable to regain her own ship, the boat is picked up by the "Mars," and the French admiral is received aboard her. Point of view changes.]

SCENE IV

THE SAME. THE c.o.c.kPIT OF THE "VICTORY"

[A din of trampling and dragging overhead, which is accompanied by a continuos ground-ba.s.s roar from the guns of the warring fleets, culminating at times in loud concussions. The wounded are lying around in rows for treatment, some groaning, some silently dying, some dead. The gloomy atmosphere of the low- beamed deck is pervaded by a thick haze of smoke, powdered wood, and other dust, and is heavy with the fumes of gunpowder and candle-grease, the odour of drugs and cordials, and the smell from abdominal wounds.

NELSON, his face now pinched and wan with suffering, is lying undressed in a midshipman's berth, dimly lit by a lantern. DR.

BEATTY, DR. MAGRATH, the Rev. DR. SCOTT the Chaplain, BURKE the Purser, the Steward, and a few others stand around.]

MAGRATH [in a low voice]

Poor Ram, and poor Tom Whipple, have just gone..

BEATTY

There was no hope for them.

NELSON [brokenly]

Who have just died?

BEATTY