Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1927
      Page 
      9
      of 12
      
      Originally from the novel Quatre-Vingt Treize
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
 
 
    
         The package had the effect of a clog. A pebble may stop 
          a log, the branch of a tree turn aside an avalanche. The carronade stumbled. 
          The gunner, taking advantage of this critical opportunity, plunged his 
          iron bar between the spokes of one of the hind wheels. The cannon stopped. 
          It leaned forward. The man, using the bar as a lever, held it in equilibrium. 
          The heavy mass was overthrown, with the crash of a falling bell, and 
          the man, rushing with all his might, dripping with perspiration, passed 
          the slipnoose around the bronze neck of the subdued monster.
          
          It was ended. The man had conquered. The ant had control over the mastedon; 
          the pygmy had taken the thunderbolt prisoner.
The mariners and sailors 
          clapped their hands.
The whole crew rushed forward with cables and chains, 
          and in an instant the cannon was secured. The gunner saluted the passenger. 
          
          
          “Sir,“ he said, “you have saved my life.“
          
          The old man had resumed his impassive attitude, and made no reply.
          
          The man had conquered, but the cannon might be said to have conquered 
          as well. Immediate shipwreck had been avoided, but the corvet was not 
          saved. The damage to the vessel seemed beyond repair. There were five 
          breaches in her sides, one, very large, in the bow; twenty of the thirty 
          carronades lay useless in their frames. The one which had just been 
          captured and chained again was disabled; the screw of the cascabel was 
          sprung, and consequently leveling the gun made impossible. The battery 
          was reduced to nine pieces. The ship was leaking. It was necessary to 
          repair the damages at once, and to work the pumps.
          
          The gun-deck, now that one could look over it, was frightful to behold. 
          The inside of an infuriated elephant's cage would not be more completely 
          demolished.
          
          However great might be the necessity of escaping observation, the necessity 
          of immediate safety was still more imperative to the corvet. They had 
          been obliged to light up the deck with lanterns hung here and there 
          on the sides.
 
 
    
    
Concept, content & Design: The Art of Age of Sail