Above the altar stood a life-sized figure of the Blessed Virgin Mother, exquisitely modelled in solid gold, and clothed in rich fabric that was adorned with precious stones innumerable. The sailors saw it, and leaped one after another upon the altar, drawing their swords and hacking off the gems, whilst the priests covered their eyes with horror at the desecration and sacrilege.
The eyes of the figure consisted of two magnificent sapphires of great size, and, being unable to reach these with their swords, the sailors put their weapons behind and under the image, and with a few violent wrenches it came crashing to the ground with a thunderous noise.
As it fell, from above them in the belfry came a most awful, piercing, and agonising scream of anguish. It rose in one shrill cry above every other sound, and echoed, long-drawn out and ghastly, among the dim arches of the roof high above them.
The fearful cry rose and fell, while all below stood still, frozen into silence by the utter horror of the sound. It was as the voice of a lost soul in the most dreadful torment. As suddenly as it had arisen it ceased, and it was now noticed that the tenor bell was no longer clanging its deep mellow voice above them in the steeple.
An old priest stepped out from among his brethren.
“Cease, ye wicked men!” cried he in excellent English. “Cease, ye heretics and sacrilegious dogs, ere worse befall ye! That awful shriek was the despairing cry of a soul torn from its body in awful torment. Take warning, ye, from that man’s dreadful fate; for a man it was, although ye might have deemed the voice that of a devil!
“I can tell ye his doom. He was caught up by the whirling ropes of the bells which ye have rung to your own confusion, and his body has been torn to pieces in the pipe through which the bell-rope runs. Take warning, I say, and leave this sacred place in peace!”
He spoke no more, for one of the officers, fearing the effect his words might have on the superstitious seamen, seized him by the shoulders and hustled him down the long aisle of the building and through the door into the street.
Harry and Roger could not bring themselves to take part in the shocking work of desecration, and were standing some distance away, surveying the scene with disgust, when suddenly above the bestial shouts and uproar came the cry: “Save yourselves, lads, run! There is no time to lose; the church is on fire! Run! Run!”
Startled amid their work of destruction, the men paused and looked round to see whence the voice had come, but could not discover its whereabouts.