Suddenly, and without anything to explain this strange surrender of himself, Fabian dropped his sword. Had he been mortally wounded without our noticing it? The blood rushed wildly to my heart. Fabian's eyes had grown singularly animated.
"Defend yourself," roared Drake, drawing himself up like a tiger ready to spring onto his prey.
I thought that it was all over with Fabian, disarmed as he was. Corsican threw himself between him and his enemy, to prevent the latter from striking a defenseless man; but now Harry Drake in his turn stood motionless.
I turned, and saw Ellen, pale as death, her hands stretched out, coming towards the duelists. Fabian, fascinated by this apparition, remained perfectly still.
"You! you!" cried Harry Drake to Ellen; "you here!"
His uplifted blade gleamed as though on fire; one might have said it was the sword of the archangel Michael in the hands of a demon.
Suddenly a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the whole stern. I was almost knocked down, and felt suffocated, for the air was filled with sulphur; but by a powerful effort I regained my senses. I had fallen on one knee, but I got up and looked around. Ellen was leaning on Fabian. Harry Drake seemed petrified, and remained in the same position, but his face had grown black.
Had the unhappy man been struck when attracting the lightning with his blade? Ellen left Fabian, and went up to Drake with her face full of holy compassion. She placed her hand on his shoulder; even this light touch was enough to disturb the equilibrium, and Drake fell to the ground a corpse. Ellen bent over the body, whilst we drew back, terrified. The wretched Harry Drake was dead.
"Struck by lightning," said Dean Pitferge, catching hold of my arm. "Struck by lightning! Ah! will you not now believe in the intervention of thunder?"
Had Harry Drake indeed been struck by lightning as Dean Pitferge affirmed, or rather, as the doctor on board said, had a blood-vessel broken in his chest? I can only say there was nothing now but a corpse before our eyes.
