"Come on!" said the
man. It seemed to listen.
Suddenly it leaped towards him. The man dodged. Then the struggle
began,--a contest unheard of; the fragile wrestling with the
invulnerable; the human warrior attacking the brazen beast; blind force
on the one side, soul on the other.
All this was in the shadow. It was like an indistinct vision of a
miracle.
A soul!--strangely enough it seemed as if a soul existed within the
cannon, but one consumed with hate and rage. The blind thing seemed to
have eyes. It appeared as though the monster were watching the man.
There was, or at least one might have supposed it, cunning in this
mass. It also chose its opportunity. It was as though a gigantic
insect of iron was endowed with the will of a demon. Now and then this
colossal grass-hopper would strike the low ceiling of the gun-deck,
then falling back on its four wheels, like a tiger on all fours, rush
upon the man. He--supple, agile, adroit--writhed like a serpent before
these lightning movements. He avoided encounters; but the blows from
which he escaped fell with destructive force upon the vessel. A piece
of broken chain remained attached to the carronade.
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