The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 02, December, 1857: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 01, No. 02, December, 1857: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
Thus the fight raged along the whole extent of the entrance of the
Gulf of Lepanto. If the eye of the spectator could have penetrated the
cloud of smoke that enveloped the combatants, and have embraced the
whole scene at a glance, he would have beheld them broken up into
small detachments, engaged in conflict with one another, wholly
independently of the rest, and indeed ignorant of all that was doing
in other quarters. The volumes of vapor, rolling heavily over the
waters, effectually shut out from sight whatever was passing at any
considerable distance, unless when a fresher breeze dispelled the
smoke for a moment, or the flashes of the heavy guns threw a transient
gleam over the dark canopy of battle. The contest exhibited few of
those enlarged combinations and skilful manoeuvres to be expected in a
great naval encounter. It was rather an assemblage of petty actions,
resembling those on land. The galleys, grappling together, presented a
level arena, on which soldier and galley-slave fought hand to hand,
and the fate of the engagement was generally decided by boarding. As
in most hand-to-hand contests, there was an enormous waste of
life. The decks were loaded with corpses, Christian and Moslem lying
promiscuously together in the embrace of death. Instances are given
where every man on board was slain or wounded. It was a ghastly
spectacle, where blood flowed in rivulets down the sides of the
vessels, staining the waters of the Gulf for miles around.
It seemed as if some hurricane had swept over the sea, and covered it
with the wreck of the noble armaments which a moment before were so
proudly riding on its bosom. Little had they now to remind one of
their late magnificent array, with their hulls battered and defaced,
their masts and spars gone or fearfully splintered by the shot, their
canvas cut into shreds and floating wildly on the breeze, while
thousands of wounded and drowning men were clinging to the floating
fragments, and calling piteously for help. Such was the wild uproar
which had succeeded to the Sabbath-like stillness that two hours
before had reigned over these beautiful solitudes!
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