Death is the fit
penalty for every fault committed when facing the enemy. There is no
fault that can be retrieved. Courage must be rewarded and negligence
be punished."
These words fell one after the other slowly and gravely, with a certain
implacable rhythm, like the strokes of the axe upon an oak-tree.
Looking at the soldiers, the old man added,--
"Do your duty!"
The man on whose breast shone the cross of Saint Louis bowed his head,
and at a sign of Count Boisberthelot two sailors went down to the
gun-deck, and presently returned bringing the hammock-shroud, the two
sailors were accompanied by the ship's chaplain, who since the
departure had been engaged in saying prayers in the officers' quarters.
A sergeant detached from the ranks twelve soldiers, whom he arranged in
two rows, six men in a row. The gunner placed himself between the two
lines. The chaplain, holding a crucifix, advanced and took his place
beside the man. "March!" came from the lips of the sergeant; and the
platoon slowly moved towards the bow, followed by two sailors carrying
the shroud.
A gloomy silence fell on the corvette. In the distance a hurricane was
blowing.
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