Trafalgar

few moments, her stern went slowly down with fearful creaks and groans, and she remained steady. All was over now, nothing remained to be done but to save ourselves by getting across the tract of sea which separated us from the land. This seemed almost impossible in the boats we had on board; our best hope was that they might send us help from the shore, for it was evident that the crew of a lately wrecked vessel was encamped there, and one of the government cutters, which had been placed on the coast by the naval authorities for service in such cases, must surely be in the neighborhood. The Rayo fired again and again, and we watched with desperate impatience, for if some succour did not reach us soon we must all go down in the ship. The hapless crippled mass whose timbers had parted as she struck seemed likely to hasten her end by the violence of her throes, and the moment could not be far off when her ribs must fall asunder and we should be left at the mercy of the waves with nothing to cling to but the floating wreck.

Those on shore could do nothing for us, but by God’s mercy our signal guns were heard by a sloop which had put to sea at Chipiona and which now approached us, keeping, however, at a respectful distance. As soon as her broad mainsail came in view we knew that we were saved, and the captain of the Rayo gave orders to insure our all getting on board without confusion in such imminent peril. My first idea, when I saw the boats being got out, was to run to the two men who most interested me on board: Marcial and young Malespina, both wounded, though Marcial’s was not a serious case. I found the young officer in a very bad way and saying to the men around him: “I will not be moved⁠—leave me to die here.”

Marcial had crawled up on deck and was lying on the planks so utterly prostrate and indifferent that I was really terrified at his appearance. He looked up as I went near him and taking my hand said in piteous tones: “Gabrielillo, do not forsake me!”

“To land!” I cried trying to encourage him, “we are all going on shore.” But he only shook his head sadly as if he foresaw some immediate disaster.

I tried to help him up, but after the first effort he let himself drop as if he were dead. “I cannot,” he said at length. The bandages had come off his wound and in the confusion of our desperate situation no one had thought of applying fresh ones. I dressed it as well as I could, comforting him all the time with hopeful words; I even went so far as to laugh at his appearance to see if that would rouse him. But the poor old man could not smile; he let his head droop gloomily on his breast, as insensible to a jest as he was to consolation. Thinking only of him, I did not observe that the boats were putting off. Among the first to be put on board were Don José Malespina and his son; my first impulse had been to follow them in obedience to my master’s orders, but the sight of the wounded sailor was too much for me. Malespina could not need me, while Marcial was almost a dead man and still clung to my hand with his cold fingers, saying again and again: “Gabrielillo, do not leave me.”

The boats labored hard through the breakers, but notwithstanding, when once the wounded had been moved the embarkation went forward rapidly, the sailors flinging themselves in by a rope or taking a flying leap. Several jumped into the water and saved themselves by swimming. It flashed through my mind as a terrible problem, by which of these means I could escape with my life, and there was no time to lose for the Rayo was breaking up; the after-part was all under water and the cracking of the beams and timbers, which were in many places half rotten, warned me that the huge hulk would soon cease to exist. Everyone was rushing to the boats, and the sloop, which kept at a safe distance, very skilfully handled so as to avoid shipping water, took them all on board. The empty boats came back at once and were filled again in no time.

Seeing the helpless state in which Marcial was lying I turned, half-choked with tears, to some sailors and implored them to pick him up and carry him to a boat; but it was as much as they could do to save themselves. In my desperation I tried to lift him and drag him to the ship’s side, but my small strength was hardly enough to raise his helpless arms. I ran about the deck, seeking some charitable soul; and some seemed on the point of yielding to my entreaties, but their own pressing danger choked their kind impulses. To understand such cold-blooded cruelty you must have gone through such a scene of horror; every feeling of humanity vanishes before the stronger instinct of self-preservation which becomes a perfect possession, and sometimes reduces man to the level of a wild beast.

“Oh the wretches! they will do nothing to save you, Marcial,” I cried in bitter anguish.

“Let them be,” he said. “They are the same at sea as on shore. But you child, be off, run, or they will leave you behind.” I do not know which seemed to me the most horrible alternative⁠—to remain on board with the certainty of death, or to go and leave the miserable man alone. At length, however, natural instinct proved the stronger and I took a few steps towards the ship’s side; but I turned back to embrace the poor old man once more and then I ran as fast as I could to