Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1927
Page 2 of 12
Originally from the novel Quatre-Vingt Treize
And what is to be done? How put an end to it? A tempest
ceases, a cyclone passes over, a wind dies down, a broken mast can be
replaced, a leak can be stopped, a fire extinguished, but what will
become of this enormous brute of bronze. How can it be captured? You
can reason with a bulldog, astonish a bull, fascinate a boa, frighten
a tiger, tame a lion; but you have no resource against this monster,
a loose cannon. You can not kill it, it is dead; and at the same time
it lives. It lives with a sinister life which comes to it from the infinite.
The deck beneath it gives it full swing. It is moved by the ship, which
is moved by the sea, which is moved by the wind. This destroyer is a
toy. The ship, the waves, the winds, all play with it, hence its frightful
animation. What is to be done with this apparatus? How fetter this stupendous engine
of destruction? How anticipate its comings and goings, its returns,
its stops, its shocks? Any one of its blows on the side of the ship
may stave it in. How foretell its frightful meanderings? It is dealing
with a projectile, which alters its mind, which seems to have ideas,
and changes its direction every instant. How check the course of what
must be avoided? The horrible cannon struggles, advances, backs, strikes
right, strikes left, retreats passes by, disconcerts expectation, grinds
up obstacles, crushes men like flies. All the terror of the situation
is in the fluctuations of the flooring. How fight an inclined plane
subject to caprices? The ship has, so to speak, in its belly, an imprisoned
thunder-storm, striving to escape; something like a thunderbolt rumbling
above an earthquake.
In an instant the whole crew was on foot. It was the fault of the gun captain, who had neglected to fasten the screw-nut of the mooring-chain, and had insecurely clogged the four wheels of the gun carriage; this gave play to the sole and the framework, separated the two platforms, and the breeching. The tackle had given way, so that the cannon was no longer firm on its carriage. The stationary breeching, which prevents recoil, was not in use at this time. A heavy sea struck the port, the carronade, insecurely fastened, had recoiled and broken its chain, and began its terrible course over the deck.
To form an idea of this strange sliding, let one imagine a drop of water running over a glass.