Complete Works of Thomas Hardy (Illustrated) (1028 page)

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 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 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.

Give Collingwood my order.  Anchor all!

HARDY
[hesitating]

You mean the signal's to be made forthwith?

NELSON

I do!—By God, if but our carpenter

Could rig me up a jury-backbone now,

To last one hour—until the battle's done,

I'd see to it!  But here I am—stove in—

Broken—all logged and done for!  Done, ay done!

BEATTY
[returning from the other wounded]

My lord, I must implore you to lie calm!

You shorten what at best may not be long.

NELSON
[exhausted]

I know, I know, good Beatty!  Thank you well

Hardy, I was impatient.  Now I am still.

Sit here a moment, if you have time to spare?

[BEATTY and others retire, and the two abide in silence, except

for the trampling overhead and the moans from adjoining berths.

NELSON is apparently in less pain, seeming to doze.]

NELSON
[suddenly]

What are you thinking, that you speak no word?

HARDY
[waking from a short reverie]

Thoughts all confused, my lord:—their needs on deck,

Your own sad state, and your unrivalled past;

Mixed up with flashes of old things afar—

Old childish things at home, down Wessex way.

In the snug village under Blackdon Hill

Where I was born.  The tumbling stream, the garden,

The placid look of the grey dial there,

Marking unconsciously this bloody hour,

And the red apples on my father's trees,

Just now full ripe.

NELSON

     Ay, thus do little things

Steal into my mind, too.  But ah, my heart

Knows not your calm philosophy!—There's one—

Come nearer  to me, Hardy.—One of all,

As you well guess, pervades my memory now;