gunner's fault, who had neglected to fasten the screw-nut of the
breeching chain, and had not thoroughly chocked the four trucks of the
carronade, which allowed play to the frame and the bottom of the
gun-carriage, thereby disarranging the two platforms and parting the
breeching. The lashings were broken, so that the gun was no longer
firm on its carriage. The stationary breeching which prevents the
recoil was not in use at that time. As a wave struck the ship's side
the cannon, insufficiently secured, had receded, and having broken its
chain, began to wander threateningly over the deck. In order to get an
idea of this strange sliding, fancy a drop of water sliding down a pane
of glass.

When the fastening broke, the gunners were in the battery, singly and
in groups, clearing the ship for action. The carronade, thrown forward
by the pitching, dashed into a group of men, killing four of them at
the first blow; then, hurled back by the rolling, it cut in two an
unfortunate fifth man, and struck and dismounted one of the guns of the
larboard battery. Hence the cry of distress which had been heard. All
the men rushed to the ladder. The gun-deck was empty in the twinkling
of an eye.

The monstrous gun was left to itself. It was its own mistress, and
mistress of the ship. It could do with it whatsoever it wished. This
crew, accustomed to laugh in battle, now trembled. It would be
impossible to describe their terror.

Captain Boisberthelot and Lieutenant la Vieuville, brave men though
they were, paused at the top of the ladder, silent, pale, and
undecided, looking down on the deck. Some one pushed them aside with
his elbow, and descended. It was their passenger, the peasant, the man