Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated)

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Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) Page 805

by Thomas Hardy


  Sets their old wood on fire.

  NELSON

  Ay, rotten as peat.

  What's that? I think she has struck, or pretty nigh!

  [A cracking of musketry.]

  HARDY

  Not yet.—Those small-arm men there, in her tops,

  Thin our crew fearfully. Now, too, our guns

  Have dipped full down, or they would rake

  The "Temeraire" there on the other side.

  NELSON

  True.—While you deal good measure out to these,

  Keep slapping at those giants over here—

  The "Trinidad," I mean, and the "Bucentaure,"

  To win'ard—swelling up so pompously.

  HARDY

  I'll see no slackness shall be shown that way.

  [They part and go in their respective directions. Gunners, naked

  to the waist and reeking with sweat, are now in swift action on

  the several decks, and firemen carry buckets of water hither and

  thither. The killed and wounded thicken around, and are being

  lifted and examined by the surgeons. NELSON and HARDY meet again.]

  NELSON

  Bid still the firemen bring more bucketfuls,

  And dash the water into each new hole

  Our guns have gouged in the "Redoubtable,"

  Or we shall all be set ablaze together.

  HARDY

  Let me once more advise, entreat, my lord,

  That you do not expose yourself so clearly.

  Those fellows in the mizzen-top up there

  Are peppering round you quite perceptibly.

  NELSON

  Now, Hardy, don't offend me. They can't aim;

  They only set their own rent sails on fire.—

  But if they could, I would not hide a button

  To save ten lives like mine. I have no cause

  To prize it, I assure 'ee.—Ah, look there,

  One of the women hit,—and badly, too.

  Poor wench! Let some one shift her quickly down.

  HARDY

  My lord, each humblest sojourner on the seas,

  Dock-labourer, lame longshore-man, bowed bargee,

  Sees it as policy to shield his life

  For those dependent on him. Much more, then,

  Should one upon whose priceless presence here

  Such issues hang, so many strivers lean,

  Use average circumspection at an hour

  So critical for us all.

  NELSON

  Ay, ay. Yes, yes;

  I know your meaning, Hardy,; and I know

  That you disguise as frigid policy

  What really is your honest love of me.

  But, faith, I have had my day. My work's nigh done;

  I serve all interests best by chancing it

  Here with the commonest.—Ah, their heavy guns

  Are silenced every one! Thank God for that.

  HARDY

  'Tis so. They only use their small arms now.

  [He goes to larboard to see what is progressing on that side

  between his ship and the "Santisima Trinidad."]

  OFFICER [to seaman]

  Swab down these stairs. The mess of blood about

  Makes 'em so slippery that one's like to fall

  In carrying the wounded men below.

  [While CAPTAIN HARDY is still a little way off, LORD NELSON turns

  to walk aft, when a ball from one of the muskets in the mizzen-

  top of the "Redoubtable" enters his left shoulder. He falls upon

  his face on the deck. HARDY looks round, and sees what has

  happened.]

  HARDY [hastily]

  Ah—what I feared, and strove to hide I feared!...

  [He goes towards NELSON, who in the meantime has been lifted by

  SERGEANT-MAJOR SECKER and two seamen.]

  NELSON

  Hardy, I think they've done for me at last!

  HARDY

  I hope not!

  NELSON

  Yes. My backbone is shot through.

  I have not long to live.

  [The men proceed to carry him below.]

  Those tiller ropes

  They've torn away, get instantly repaired!

  [At sight of him borne along wounded there is great agitation

  among the crew.]

  Cover my face. There will be no good be done

  By drawing their attention off to me.

  Bear me along, good fellows; I am but one

  Among the many darkened here to-day!

  [He is carried on to the cockpit over the crowd of dead and

  wounded.]

  Doctor, I'm gone. I am waste o' time to you.

  HARDY [remaining behind]

  Hills, go to Collingwood and let him know

  That we've no Admiral here.

  [He passes on.]

  A LIEUTENANT

  Now quick and pick him off who did the deed—

  That white-bloused man there in the mizzen-top.

  POLLARD, a midshipman [shooting]

  No sooner said than done. A pretty aim!

  [The Frenchman falls dead upon the poop.

  The spectacle seems now to become enveloped in smoke, and the

  point of view changes.]

  SCENE III

  THE SAME. ON BOARD THE "BUCENTAURE"

  [The bowsprit of the French Admiral's ship is stuck fast in the

  stern-gallery of the "Santisima Trinidad," the starboard side of

  the "Bucentaure" being shattered by shots from two English three-

  deckers which are pounding her on that hand. The poop is also

  reduced to ruin by two other English ships that are attacking

  her from behind.

  On the quarter-deck are ADMIRAL VILLENEUVE, the FLAG-CAPTAIN

  MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTS DAUDIGNON, FOURNIER, and others, anxiously

  occupied. The whole crew is in desperate action of battle and

  stumbling among the dead and dying, who have fallen too rapidly

  to be carried below.]

  VILLENEUVE

  We shall be crushed if matters go on thus.—

  Direct the "Trinidad" to let her drive,

  That this foul tangle may be loosened clear!

  DAUDIGNON

  It has been tried, sir; but she cannot move.

  VILLENEUVE

  Then signal to the "Hero" that she strive

  Once more to drop this way.

  MAGENDIE

  We may make signs,

  But in the thickened air what signal's marked?—

  'Tis done, however.

  VILLENEUVE

  The "Redoubtable"

  And "Victory" there,—they grip in dying throes!

  Something's amiss on board the English ship.

  Surely the Admiral's fallen?

  A PETTY OFFICER

  Sir, they say

  That he was shot some hour, or half, ago.—

  With dandyism raised to godlike pitch

  He stalked the deck in all his jewellery,

  And so was hit.

  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, God—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 assayed!

  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 de
ad 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 encumbered 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 balls!

  [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 COCKPIT OF THE "VICTORY"

  [A din of trampling and dragging overhead, which is accompanied

  by a continuos ground-bass 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

  Two who were badly hit by now, my lord;

  Lieutenant Ram and Mr. Whipple.

  NELSON

  Ah!

  So many lives—in such a glorious cause....

  I join them soon, soon, soon!—O where is Hardy?

  Will nobody bring Hardy to me—none?

  He must be killed, too. Surely Hardy's dead?

  A MIDSHIPMAN

  He's coming soon, my lord. The constant call

  On his full heed of this most mortal fight

  Keeps him from hastening hither as he would.

  NELSON

  I'll wait, I'll wait. I should have thought of it.

  [Presently HARDY comes down. NELSON and he grasp hands.]

  Hardy, how goes the day with us and England?

  HARDY

  Well; very well, thank God for't, my dear lord.

  Villeneuve their Admiral has this moment struck,

  And put himself aboard the "Conqueror."

  Some fourteen of their first-rates, or about,

  Thus far we've got. The said "Bucentaure" chief:

  The "Santa Ana," the "Redoubtable,"

  The "Fougueux," the "Santisima Trinidad,"

  "San Augustino, "San Francisco," "Aigle";

  And our old "Swiftsure," too, we've grappled back,

  To every seaman's joy. But now their van

  Has tacked to bear round on the "Victory"

  And crush her by sheer weight of wood and brass:

  Three of our best I am therefore calling up,

  And make no doubt of worsting theirs, and France.

  NELSON

  That's well. I swore for twenty.—But it's well.

  HARDY

  We'll have 'em yet! But without you, my lord,

  We have to make slow plodding do the deeds

  That sprung by inspiration ere you fell;

  And on this ship the more particularly.

  NELSON

  No, Hardy.—Ever 'twas your settled fault

  So modestly to whittle down your worth.

  But I saw stuff in you which admirals need

  When, taking thought, I chose the "Victory's" keel

  To do my business with these braggarts in.

  A business finished now, for me!—Good friend,

  Slow shades are creeping me... I scarce see you.

  HARDY

  The smoke from ships upon our win'ard side,

  And the dust raised by their worm-eaten hulks,

  When our balls touch 'em, blind the eyes, in truth.

  NELSON

  No; it is not that dust; 'tis dust of death

  That darkens me.

  [A shock overhead. HARDY goes up. On or two other officers go up,

  and by and by return.]

  What was that extra noise?

  OFFICER

  The "Formidable' passed us by, my lord,

  And thumped a stunning broadside into us.—

  But, on their side, the "Hero's" captain's fallen;

  The "Algeciras" has been boarded, too,

  By Captain Tyler, and the captain shot:

  Admiral Gravina desperately holds out;

  They say he's lost an arm.

  NELSON

  And we, ourselves—

  Who have we lost on board here? Nay, but tell me!

  BEATTY

  Besides poor Scott, my lord, and Charles Adair,

  Lieutenant Ram, and Whipple, captain's clerk,

  There's Smith, and Palmer, midshipmen, just killed.

 
And fifty odd of seamen and marines.

  NELSON

  Poor youngsters! Scarred old Nelson joins you soon.

  BEATTY

  And wounded: Bligh, lieutenant; Pasco, too,

  and Reeves, and Peake, lieutenants of marines,

  And Rivers, Westphall, Bulkeley, midshipmen,

  With, of the crew, a hundred odd just now,

  Unreckoning those late fallen not brought below.

  BURKE

  That fellow in the mizzen-top, my lord,

  Who made it his affair to wing you thus,

  We took good care to settle; and he fell

  Like an old rook, smack from his perch, stone dead.

  NELSON

  'Twas not worth while!—He was, no doubt, a man

  Who in simplicity and sheer good faith

  Strove but to serve his country. Rest be to him!

  And may his wife, his friends, his little ones,

  If such be had, be tided through their loss,

  And soothed amid the sorrow brought by me.

  [HARDY re-enters.]

  Who's that? Ah—here you come! How, Hardy, now?

  HARDY

  The Spanish Admiral's rumoured to be wounded,

  We know not with what truth. But, be as 'twill,

  He sheers away with all he could call round,

  And some few frigates, straight to Cadiz port.

  [A violent explosion is heard above the confused noises on deck.

  A midshipman goes above and returns.]

  MIDSHIPMAN [in the background]

  It is the enemy's first-rate, the "Achille,"

  Blown to a thousand atoms!—While on fire,

  Before she burst, the captain's woman there,

  Desperate for life, climbed from the gunroom port

  Upon the rudder-chains; stripped herself stark,

  And swam for the Pickle's boat. Our men in charge,

  Seeing her great breasts bulging on the brine,

  Sang out, "A mermaid 'tis, by God!"—then rowed

  And hauled her in.—

  BURKE

  Such unbid sights obtrude

  On death's dyed stage!

  MIDSHIPMAN

  Meantime the "Achille" fought on,

  Even while the ship was blazing, knowing well

  The fire must reach their powder; which it did.

  The spot is covered now with floating men,

  Some whole, the main in parts; arms, legs, trunks, heads,

  Bobbing with tons of timber on the waves,

  And splinter looped with entrails of the crew.

  NELSON [rousing]

  Our course will be to anchor. Let me know.

  HARDY

  But let me ask, my lord, as needs I must,

  Seeing your state, and that our work's not done,

  Shall I, from you, bid Admiral Collingwood

  Take full on him the conduct of affairs?

  NELSON [trying to raise himself]

  Not while I live, I hope! No, Hardy; no.

 

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