“That face of his I do remember well;
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear’d
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war.”
What You Will.
From the moment when the Coquette fired her first gun, to the moment
when the retiring boats became invisible, was just twenty minutes. Of
this time, less than half had been occupied by the incidents related,
in the ship. Short as it was in truth, it seemed to all engaged but an
instant. The alarm was over, the sound of the oars had ceased, and
still the survivors stood at their posts, as if expecting the attack to
be renewed. Then came those personal thoughts, which had been suspended
in the fearful exigency of such a struggle. The wounded began to feel
their pain, and to be sensible of the danger of their injuries; while
the few, who had escaped unhurt, turned a friendly care on their
shipmates. Ludlow as often happens with the bravest and most exposed,
had escaped without a scratch; but he saw by the drooping forms around
him, which were no longer sustained by the excitement of battle, that
his triumph was dearly purchased.
“Send Mr. Trysail to me;” he said, in a tone that had little of a
victor’s exultation. “The land breeze has made, and we will endeavor to
improve it, and get inside the cape, lest the morning light give us
more of these Frenchmen.”
The order for ‘Mr. Trysail!’ ‘the captain calls the master!’ passed in
a low call from mouth to mouth, but it was unanswered. A seaman told
the expecting young commander, that the surgeon desired his presence
forward. A gleaming of lights and a little group at the foot of the
fore-mast, was a beacon not to be mistaken. The weatherbeaten master
was in the agony; and his medical attendant had just risen from a
fruitless examination of his wounds, as Ludlow approached.
“I hope the hurt is not serious?” hurriedly whispered the alarmed young
sailor to the surgeon, who was coolly collecting his implements, in
order to administer to some more promising subject. “Neglect nothing
that your art can suggest.”
“The case is desperate, Captain Ludlow,” returned the phlegmatic
surgeon; “but if you have a taste for such things, there is as
beautiful a case for amputation promised in the fore-topman whom I have
had sent below, as offers once in a whole life of active practice!”
“Go, go—” interrupted Ludlow, half pushing the unmoved man of blood
away, as he spoke; “go, then, where your services are needed.”
The other cast a glance around him, reproved his attendant, in a sharp
tone, for unnecessarily exposing the blade of some ferocious-looking
instrument to the dew, and departed.
“Would to God, that some portion of these injuries had befallen those
who are younger and stronger!” murmured the captain, as he leaned over
the dying master. “Can I do aught to relieve thy mind, my old and
worthy shipmate?”
“I have had my misgivings, since we have dealt with witchcraft!”
returned Trysail, whose voice the rattling of the throat had already
nearly silenced “I have had misgivings—but no matter. Take care of the
ship—I have been thinking of our people—you’ll have to cut—they can
never lift the anchor—the wind is here at north.”
“All this is ordered. Trouble thyself no further about the vessel; she
shall be taken care of, I promise you.—Speak of thy wife, and of thy
wishes in England.”
“God bless Mrs. Trysail! She’ll get a pension, and I hope contentment!
You must give the reef a good, berth, in rounding Montauk—and you’ll
naturally wish to find the anchors again, when the coast is clear—if
you can find it in your conscience, say a good word of poor old Ben
Trysail, in the dispatches—”
The voice of the master sunk to a whisper, and became inaudible. Ludlow
thought he strove to speak again, and he bent his ear to his mouth.
“I say—the weather-main-swifter and both backstays are gone; look to
the spars, for—for—there are sometimes—heavy puffs at night—in the
Americas!”
The last heavy respiration succeeded, after which came the long silence
of death. The body was removed to the poop, and Ludlow, with a saddened
heart, turned to duties that this accident rendered still more
imperative.
Notwithstanding the heavy loss, and the originally weakened state of
her crew, the sails of the Coquette were soon spread, and the ship
moved away in silence; as if sorrowing for those who had fallen at her
anchorage. When the vessel was fairly in motion, her captain ascended
to the poop, in order to command a clearer view of all around him, as
well as to profit by the situation to arrange his plans for the future.
He found he had been anticipated by the free-trader.
“I owe my ship—I may say my life, since in such a conflict they would
have gone together, to thy succor!” said the young commander, as he
approached the motionless form of the smuggler. “Without it, Queen Anne
would have lost a cruiser, and the flag of England a portion of its
well-earned glory.”
“May thy royal mistress prove as ready to remember her friends, in
emergencies, as mine. In good truth, there was little time to lose, and
trust me, we well understood the extremity. If we were tardy, it was
because whale-boats were to be brought from a distance; for the land
lies between my brigantine and the sea.”
“He who came so opportunely, and acted so well, needs no apology.”
“Captain Ludlow, are we friends?”
“It cannot be otherwise. All minor considerations must be lost in such
a service. If it is your intention to push this illegal trade further,
on the coast, I must seek another station.”
“Not so.—Remain, and do credit to your flag, and the land of your
birth. I have long thought that this is the last time the keel of the
Water-Witch will ever plow the American seas. Before I quit you, I
would have an interview with the merchant. A worse man might have
fallen, and just now even a better man might be spared. I hope no harm
has come to him?”
“He has shown the steadiness of his Holland lineage, to-day. During the
boarding, he was useful and cool.”
“It is well. Let the Alderman be summoned to the deck, for my time is
limited, and I have much to say,——”
The Skimmer paused, for at that moment a fierce light glared upon the
ocean, the ship, and all in it. The two seamen gazed at each other in
silence and both recoiled, as men recede before an unexpected and
fearful attack. But a bright and wavering light, which rose out of the
forward hatch of the vessel explained all. At the same moment, the deep
stillness which, since the bustle of making sail had ceased, pervaded
the ship, was broken by the appalling cry of “Fire!”
The alarm which brings the blood in the swiftest current to a seaman’s
heart, was now heard in the depths of the vessel. The smothered sounds
below, the advancing uproar, and the rush on deck, with the awful
summons in the open air, succeeded each other with the rapidity of
lightning. A dozen voices repeated the word ‘the grenade!’ proclaiming
in a breath both the danger and the cause. But an instant before, the
swelling canvas, the dusky spars, and the faint lines of the cordage,
were only to be traced by the glimmering light of the stars; and now
the whole hamper of the ship was the more conspicuous, from the obscure
background against which it was drawn in distinct lines. The sight was
fearfully beautiful;—beautiful, for it showed the symmetry and fine
outlines of the vessel’s rig, resembling the effect of a group of
statuary seen by torch-light,—and fearful, since the dark void beyond
seemed to declare their isolated and helpless state.
There was one breathless, eloquent moment, in which all were seen
gazing at the grand spectacle in mute awe,—and then a voice rose,
clear, distinct, and commanding, above the sullen sound of the torrent
of fire, which was roaring among the avenues of the ship.
“Call all hands to extinguish fire! Gentlemen, to your stations. Be
cool, men; and be silent!”
There was a calmness and an authority in the tones of the young
commander, that curbed the impetuous feelings of the startled crew.
Accustomed to obedience, and trained to order, each man broke out of
his trance, and eagerly commenced the discharge of his allotted duty.
At that instant, an erect and unmoved form stood on the combings of the
main hatch. A hand was raised in the air, and the call, which came from
the deep chest, was like that of one used to speak in the tempest.
“Where are my brigantines?” it said—“Come away there, my sea-dogs; wet
the light sails, and follow!”
A group of grave and submissive mariners gathered about the ‘Skimmer of
the Seas,’ at the sound of his voice. Glancing an eye over them, as if
to scan their quality and number, he smiled, with a look in which high
daring and practised self-command was blended with a constitutional
gaîté de cœur.
“One deck, or two!”—he added; “what avails a plank, more or less, in an
explosion?—Follow!”
The free-trader and his people disappeared in the interior of the ship.
An interval of great and resolute exertion succeeded. Blankets, sails,
and everything which offered, and which promised to be of use, were
wetted and cast upon the flames. The engine was brought to bear, and
the ship was deluged with water. But the confined space, with the heat
and smoke, rendered it impossible to penetrate to those parts of the
vessel where the conflagration raged. The ardor of the men abated as
hope lessened, and after half an hour of fruitless exertion, Ludlow
saw, with pain, that his assistants began to yield to the
inextinguishable principle of nature. The appearance of the Skimmer on
deck, followed by all his people, destroyed hope, and every effort
ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.
“Think of your wounded;” whispered the free-trader, with a steadiness
no danger could disturb. “We stand on a raging volcano!”
“I have ordered the gunner to drown the magazine.”
“He was too late. The hold of the ship is a fiery furnace. I heard him
fall among the store-rooms, and it surpassed the power of man to give
the wretch succor. The grenade has fallen near some combustibles, and,
painful as it is to part with a ship so loved Ludlow, thou wilt meet
the loss like a man! Think of thy wounded; my boats are still hanging
at the stern.”
Ludlow reluctantly, but firmly, gave the order to bear the wounded to
the boats. This was an arduous and delicate duty. The smallest boy in
the ship knew the whole extent of the danger, and that a moment, by the
explosion of the powder, might precipitate them all into eternity. The
deck forward was getting too hot to be endured, and there were places
even in which the beams had given symptoms of yielding.
But the poop, elevated still above the fire, offered a momentary
refuge. Thither all retired, while the weak and wounded were lowered,
with the caution circumstances would permit, into the whale-boats of
the smugglers.
Ludlow stood at one ladder and the free-trader at the other, in order
to be certain that none proved recreant in so trying a moment. Near
them were Alida, Seadrift, and the Alderman, with the attendants of the
former.
It seemed an age, before this humane and tender duty was performed. At
length the cry of “all in!” was uttered, in a manner to betray the
extent of the self-command that had been necessary to effect it.
“Now, Alida, we may think of thee!” said Ludlow, turning to the spot
occupied by the silent heiress.
“And you!” she said, hesitating to move.
“Duty demands that I should be the last—”
A sharp explosion beneath, and fragments of fire flying upwards through
a hatch, interrupted his words. Plunges into the sea, and a rush of the
people to the boats, followed. All order and authority were completely
lost, in the instinct of life. In vain did Ludlow call on his men to be
cool, and to wait for those who were still above. His words were lost,
in the uproar of clamorous voices. For a moment, it seemed, however, as
if the Skimmer of the Seas would overcome the confusion. Throwing
himself on a ladder, he glided into the bows of one of the boats, and,
holding by the ropes with a vigorous arm, he resisted the efforts of
all the oars and boat-hooks, while he denounced destruction on him who
dared to quit the ship. Had not the two crews been mingled, the high
authority and determined mien of the free-trader would have prevailed;
but while some were disposed to obey, others raised the cry of “throw
the dealer in witchcraft into the sea!”—Boat-hooks were already pointed
at his breast, and the horrors of the fearful moment were about to be
increased by the violence of a mutinous contention, when a second
explosion nerved the arms of the rowers to madness. With a common and
desperate effort, they overcame all resistance. Swinging off upon the
ladder, the furious seaman saw the boat glide from his grasp, and
depart. The execration that was uttered, beneath the stern of the
Coquette, was deep and powerful; but, in another moment, the Skimmer
stood on the poop, calm and undejected, in the centre of the deserted
group.
“The explosion of a few of the officers’ pistols has frightened the
miscreants;” he said cheerfully. “But hope is not yet lost!—they linger
in the distance, and may return!”
The sight of the helpless party on the poop, and the consciousness of
being less exposed themselves, had indeed arrested the progress of the
fugitives. Still, selfishness predominated; and while most regretted
their danger, none but the young and unheeded midshipmen, who were
neither of an age nor of a rank to wield sufficient authority, proposed
to return. There was little argument necessary to show that the perils
increased at each moment; and, finding that no other expedient
remained, the gallant youths encouraged the men to pull towards the
land; intending themselves to return instantly to the assistance of
their commander and his friends. The oars dashed into the water again,
and the retiring boats were soon lost to view in the body of darkness.
While the fire had been raging within, another element, without, had
aided to lessen hope for those who were abandoned. The wind from the
land had continued to rise, and, during the time lost in useless
exertion, the ship had been permitted to run nearly before it. When
hope was gone, the helm had been deserted, and as all the lower sails
had been hauled up to avoid the flames, the vessel had drifted, many
minutes, nearly dead to leeward. The mistaken youths, who had not
attended to these circumstances, were already miles from that beach
they hoped to reach so soon; and ere the boats had separated from the
ship five minutes, they were hopelessly asunder. Ludlow had early
thought of the expedient of stranding the vessel, as the means of
saving her people; but his better knowledge of their position, soon
showed him the utter futility of the attempt.
Of the progress of the flames beneath, the mariners could only judge by
circumstances. The Skimmer glanced his eye about him, on regaining the
poop, and appeared to scan the amount and quality of the physical force
that was still at their disposal. He saw that the Alderman, the
faithful François, and two of his own seamen, with four of the petty
officers of the ship, remained. The six latter, even in that moment of
desperation, had calmly refused to desert their officers.
“The flames are in the state-rooms!” he whispered to Ludlow.
“Not further aft, I think, than the berths of the midshipmen—else we
should hear more pistols.”
“True—they are fearful signals to let us know the progress of the
fire!—our resource is a raft.”
Ludlow looked as if he despaired of the means but, concealing the
discouraging fear, he answered cheerfully in the affirmative. The
orders were instantly given, and all on board gave themselves to the
task, heart and hand. The danger was one that admitted of no ordinary
or half-conceived expedients; but, in such an emergency, it required
all the readiness of their art, and even the greatness of that
conception which is the property of genius. All distinctions of rank
and authority had ceased, except as deference was paid to natural
qualities and the intelligence of experience. Under such circumstances,
the ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ took the lead; and though Ludlow caught his
ideas with professional quickness, it was the mind of the free-trader
that controlled, throughout, the succeeding exertions of that fearful
night.
The cheek of Alida was blanched to a deadly paleness; but there rested
about the bright and wild eyes of Seadrift, an expression of
supernatural resolution.
When the crew abandoned the hope of extinguishing the flames, they had
closed all the hatches, to retard the crisis as much as possible. Here
and there, however, little torch-like lights were beginning to show
themselves through the planks, and the whole deck, forward of the
main-mast, was already in a critical and sinking state. One or two of
the beams had failed, but, as yet, the form of the construction was
preserved. Still the seamen distrusted the treacherous footing, and,
had the heat permitted the experiment, they would have shrunk from a
risk which at any unexpected moment might commit them to the fiery
furnace beneath.
The smoke ceased, and a clear, powerful light illuminated the ship to
her trucks. In consequence of the care and exertions of her people, the
sails and masts were yet untouched; and as the graceful canvas swelled
with the breeze, it still urged the blazing hull through the water.
The forms of the Skimmer and his assistants were visible, in the midst
of the gallant gear, perched on the giddy yards. Seen by that light,
with his peculiar attire, his firm and certain step, and his resolute
air, the free-trader resembled some fancied sea-god, who, secure in his
immortal immunities, had come to act his part in that awful but
exciting trial of hardihood and skill. Seconded by the common men, he
was employed in cutting the canvas from the yards. Sail after sail fell
upon the deck, and, in an incredibly short space of time, the whole of
the fore-mast was naked to its spars and rigging.
In the meantime, Ludlow, assisted by the Alderman and François, had not
been idle below. Passing forward between the empty ridge-ropes, lanyard
after lanyard parted under the blows of their little boarding-axes. The
mast now depended on the strength of the wood and the support of a
single back-stay.
“Lay down!” shouted Ludlow. “All is gone aft, but this stay!”
The Skimmer leaped upon the firm rope, followed by all aloft, and,
gliding downwards, he was instantly in the hammock-cloths. A crash
followed their descent, and an explosion, which caused the whole of the
burning fabric to tremble to its centre, seemed to announce the end of
all. Even the free-trader recoiled before the horrible din; but when he
stood near Seadrift and the heiress again, there was cheerfulness in
his tones, and a look of high, and even of gay resolution, in his firm
countenance.
“The deck has failed forwards,” he said, “and our artillery is
beginning to utter fearful signal-guns! Be of cheer!—the magazine of a
ship lies deep, and many sheathed bulk-heads still protect us.”
Another discharge from a heated gun, however proclaimed the rapid
progress of the flames. The fire broke out of the interior anew, and
the fore mast kindled.
“There must be an end of this!” said Alida, clasping her hands in a
terror that could not be controlled. “Save yourselves, if possible, you
who have strength and courage, and leave us to the mercy of him whose
eye is over all!”
“Go;” added Seadrift, whose sex could no longer be concealed. “Human
courage can do no more: leave us to die!”
The looks, that were returned to these sad requests, were melancholy
but unmoved. The Skimmer caught a rope, and still holding it in his
hand, he descended to the quarter-deck, on which he at first trusted
his weight with jealous caution. Then looking up, he smiled
encouragingly, and said,—“Where a gun still stands, there is no danger
for the weight of a man!”
“It is our only resource;” cried Ludlow, imitating his example. “On, my
men, while the beams will still hold us.”
In a moment, all were on the quarter-deck, though the excessive heat
rendered it impossible to remain stationary an instant. A gun on each
side was run in, its tackles loosened, and its muzzle pointed towards
the tottering, unsupported, but still upright fore-mast.
“Aim at the cleets!” said Ludlow to the Skimmer who pointed one gun,
while he did the same office at the other.
“Hold!” cried the latter “Throw in shot—it is out the chance between a
bursting gun and a lighted magazine!”
Additional balls were introduced into each piece; and then, with steady
hands, the gallant mariners applied burning brands to the priming. The
discharges were simultaneous and, for an instant, volumes of smoke
rolled along the deck and seemed to triumph over the conflagration. The
rending of wood was audible. It was followed by a sweeping noise in the
air, and the fall of the fore-mast, with all its burden of spars, into
the sea. The motion of the ship was instantly arrested, and, as the
heavy timbers were still attached to the bowsprit by the forward stays,
her head came to the wind, when the remaining top-sails flapped,
shivered, and took aback.
The vessel was now, for the first time during the fire, stationary. The
common mariners profited by the circumstance, and, darting past the
mounting flame along the bulwarks, they gained the
top-gallant-forecastle, which though heated was yet untouched. The
Skimmer glanced an eye about him, and seizing Seadrift by the waist, as
if the mimic seaman had been a child, he pushed forward between the
ridge-ropes. Ludlow followed with Alida, and the others intimated their
example in the best manner they could. All reached the head of the ship
in safety; though Ludlow had been driven by the flames into the
fore-channels, and thence nearly into the sea.
The petty officers were already on the floating spars, separating them
from each other, cutting away the unnecessary weight of rigging,
bringing the several parts of the wood in parallel lines, and lashing
them anew. Ever and anon, these rapid movements were quickened by one
of those fearful signals from the officers’ berths, which, by
announcing the progress of the flames beneath, betrayed their
increasing proximity to the still-slumbering volcano. The boats had
been gone an hour, and yet it seemed, to all in the ship, but a minute.
The conflagration had, for the last ten minutes, advanced with renewed
fury; and the whole of the confined flame, which had been so long pent
in the depths of the vessel now glared high in the open air.
“This heat can no longer be borne,” said Ludlow; “we must to our raft,
for breath.”
“To the raft then!” returned the cheerful voice of the free-trader.
“Haul in upon your fasts, men, and stand by to receive the precious
freight.”
The seamen obeyed. Alida and her companions were lowered safely to the
place prepared for their reception. The fore-mast had gone over the
side, with all its spars aloft; for preparation had been made, before
the fire commenced, to carry sail to the utmost, in order to escape the
enemy. The skilful and active seamen, directed and aided by Ludlow and
the Skimmer, had made a simple but happy disposition of those boyant
materials on which their all now depended. In settling in the water,
the yards, still crossed, had happily fallen uppermost. The booms and
all the light spars had been floated near the top, and laid across,
reaching from the lower to the top-sail-yard. A few light spars, stowed
outboard, had been cut away and added to the number, and the whole were
secured with the readiness and ingenuity of seamen. On the first alarm
of fire, some of the crew had seized a few light articles that would
float, and rushed to the head, as the place most remote from the
magazine, in the blind hope of saving life by swimming. Most of these
articles had been deserted, when the people were rallied to exertion by
their officers. A couple of empty shot-boxes and a mess-chest were
among them, and on the latter were seated the females, while the former
served to keep their feet from the water. As the arrangement of the
spars forced the principal mast entirely beneath the element, and the
ship was so small as to need little artificial work in her masting, the
part around the top, which contained the staging, was scarcely
submerged. Although a ton in weight was added to the inherent gravity
of the wood, still as the latter was of the lightest description, and
freed as much as possible of everything that was unnecessary to the
safety of those it supported, the spars floated sufficiently, buoyant
for the temporary security of the fugitives.
“Cut the fast!” said Ludlow, involuntarily starting at several
explosions in the interior, which followed each other in quick
succession, and which were succeeded by one which sent fragments of
burning wood into the air. “Cut, and bear the raft off the ship!—God
knows, we have need to be further asunder!”
“Cut not!” cried the half-frantic Seadrift—“My brave!—my devoted!—”
“Is safe;—” calmly said the Skimmer, appearing in the rattlings of the
main-rigging, which was still untouched by the fire—“Cut off all! I
stay to brace the mizen-top-sail more firmly aback.”
The duty was done, and for a moment the fine figure of the free-trader
was seen standing on the edge of the burning ship, looking with regret
at the glowing mass.
“’Tis the end of a lovely craft!” he said, loud enough to be heard by
those beneath. Then he appeared in the air, and sunk into the sea—“The
last signal was from the ward-room,” added the dauntless and dexterous
mariner, as he rose from the water, and, shaking the brine from his
head, he took his place on the stage—“Would to God the wind would blow,
for we have need of greater distance!”
The precaution the free-trader had taken, in adjusting the sails, was
not without its use. Motion the raft had none, but as the top-sails of
the Coquette were still aback, the naming mass, no longer arrested by
the clogs in the water, began slowly to separate from the floating
spars, though the tottering and half-burnt masts threatened, at each
moment, to fall.
Never did moments seem so long, as those which succeeded. Even the
Skimmer and Ludlow watched in speechless interest, the tardy movements
of the ship. By little and little, she receded; and, after ten minutes
of intense expectation, the seamen, whose anxiety had increased as
their exertions ended, began to breathe more freely. They were still
fearfully near the dangerous fabric, but destruction from the explosion
was no longer inevitable. The flames began to glide upwards, and then
the heavens appeared on fire, as one heated sail after another kindled
and flared wildly in the breeze.
Still the stern of the vessel was entire. The body of the master was
seated against the mizen-mast, and even the stern visage of the old
seaman was distinctly visible, under the broad light of the
conflagration. Ludlow gazed at it in melancholy, and for a time he
ceased to think of his ship, while memory dwelt, in sadness, on those
scenes of boyish happiness, and of professional pleasures, in which his
ancient shipmate had so largely participated. The roar of a gun, whose
stream of fire flashed nearly to their faces, and the sullen whistling
of its shot, which crossed the raft, failed to awaken him from his
trance.
“Stand firm to the mess-chest!” half-whispered the Skimmer, motioning
to his companions to place themselves in attitudes to support the
weaker of their party, while, with sedulous care, he braced his own
athletic person in a manner to throw all of its weight and strength
against the seat. “Stand firm, and be ready!”
Ludlow complied, though his eye scarce changed its direction. He saw
the bright flame that was rising above the arm-chest, and he fancied
that it came from the funeral pile of the young Dumont, whose fate, at
that moment, he was almost disposed to envy. Then his look returned to
the grim countenance of Trysail. At moments, it seemed as if the dead
master spoke; and so strong did the illusion become, that our young
sailor more than once bent forward to listen. While under this
delusion, the body rose, with the arms stretched upwards. The air was
filled with a sheet of streaming fire, while the ocean and the heavens
glowed with one glare of intense and fiery red. Notwithstanding the
precaution of the ‘Skimmer of the Seas,’ the chest was driven from its
place, and those by whom it was held were nearly precipitated into the
water. A deep, heavy detonation proceeded as it were from the bosom of
the sea, which, while it wounded the ear less than the sharp explosion
that had just before issued from the gun, was audible at the distant
capes of the Delaware. The body of Trysail sailed upward for fifty
fathoms, in the centre of a flood of flame, and, describing a short
curve, it came towards the raft, and cut the water within reach of the
captain’s arm. A sullen plunge of a gun followed, and proclaimed the
tremendous power of the explosion; while a ponderous yard fell athwart
a part of the raft, sweeping away the four petty officers of Ludlow, as
if they had been dust driving before a gale. To increase the wild and
fearful grandeur of the dissolution of the royal cruiser, one of the
cannon emitted its fiery contents while sailing in the void.
The burning spars, the falling fragments, the blazing and scattered
canvas and cordage, the glowing shot, and all the torn particles of the
ship, were seen descending. Then followed the gurgling of water, as the
ocean swallowed all that remained of the cruiser which had so long been
the pride of the American seas. The fiery glow disappeared, and a gloom
like that which succeeds the glare of vivid lightning, fell on the
scene.