In this the midshipman was immediately thrown, and he shrieked the shriek of the dying when he was roughly thrown on the sharp instruments.
“Hell! hell! the torments of hell,” he yelled out, as the sharp spikes pierced him to the quick.
As he made an effort to turn, he increased his agony, and as the vessel heaved, the points went deeper and deeper into his flesh.
Already the suffering of the young man was at its height, and by the livid light of the glimmering lamp, large drops of death-like sweat, could now be seen flowing over his pallid face, which was locked in excruciating pain.
“Oh, God!” he cried, frantic with suffering, “Heaven save me.”
His executioners stood around immovable, calm, and fierce, as they always were, more like demons sucking in the pleasure of mortals’ pains, than men.
The young man seemed maddened with pain, his shrieks pierced through even the close sides of the torture-room.
“Will you speak?” inquired the officer.
“Yes—no. Oh, good God! No—yes: curse you all—you devils; you demons—d—n you,” were the frenzied replies.