- end_line
- 5524
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.591Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5465
- text
- the edge of the horizon—this queer face wore a serious, apishly
self-satisfied leer, as if the Man-in-the-Moon had somehow secretly put
up the ships to their contest, and in the depths of his malignant old
soul was not unpleased to see how well his charms worked. There stood
the grinning Man-in-the-Moon, his head just dodging into view over the
rim of the sea:—Mephistopheles prompter of the stage.
Aided now a little by the planet, one of the consorts of the Richard,
the Pallas, hovering far outside the fight, dimly discerned the
suspicious form of a lonely vessel unknown to her. She resolved to
engage it, if it proved a foe. But ere they joined, the unknown
ship—which proved to be the Scarborough—received a broadside at long
gun’s distance from another consort of the Richard the Alliance. The
shot whizzed across the broad interval like shuttlecocks across a great
hall. Presently the battledores of both batteries were at work, and
rapid compliments of shuttlecocks were very promptly exchanged. The
adverse consorts of the two main belligerents fought with all the rage
of those fiery seconds who in some desperate duels make their
principal’s quarrel their own. Diverted from the Richard and the
Serapis by this little by-play, the Man-in-the-Moon, all eager to see
what it was, somewhat raised himself from his trap-door with an added
grin on his face. By this time, off sneaked the Alliance, and down
swept the Pallas, at close quarters engaging the Scarborough; an
encounter destined in less than an hour to end in the latter ship’s
striking her flag.
Compared to the Serapis and the Richard, the Pallas and the Scarborough
were as two pages to two knights. In their immature way they showed the
same traits as their fully developed superiors.
The Man-in-the-Moon now raised himself still higher to obtain a better
view of affairs.
But the Man-in-the-Moon was not the only spectator. From the high
cliffs of the shore, and especially from the great promontory of
Flamborough Head, the scene was witnessed by crowds of the islanders.
Any rustic might be pardoned his curiosity in view of the spectacle,
presented. Far in the indistinct distance fleets of frightened
merchantmen filled the lower air with their sails, as flakes of snow in
a snow-storm by night. Hovering undeterminedly, in another direction,
were several of the scattered consorts of Paul, taking no part in the
fray. Nearer, was an isolated mist, investing the Pallas and
Scarborough—a mist slowly adrift on the sea, like a floating isle, and
at intervals irradiated with sparkles of fire and resonant with the
boom of cannon. Further away, in the deeper water, was a lurid cloud,
incessantly torn in shreds of lightning, then fusing together again,
once more to be rent. As yet this lurid cloud was neither stationary
nor slowly adrift, like the first-mentioned one; but, instinct with
chaotic vitality, shifted hither and thither, foaming with fire, like a
valiant water-spout careering off the coast of Malabar.
To get some idea of the events enacting in that cloud, it will be
necessary to enter it; to go and possess it, as a ghost may rush into a
body, or the devils into the swine, which running down the steep place
perished in the sea; just as the Richard is yet to do.
Thus far the Serapis and the Richard had been manoeuvring and chasing
to each other like partners in a cotillion, all the time indulging in
rapid repartee.
- title
- Chunk 4