m, and swung on their beams, so did the ropes
attached to them fly up and down through their appointed holes in the
belfry roof, with ever-increasing velocity.

Now they began to twine round each other like living, twisting serpents,
and the sailors pulling them had to spring quickly aside to avoid being
caught by the flying and coiling ends.

Clang! clang! The sound of the bells now became a mad jangle, and the
steeple fairly rocked to their swinging.

Everywhere the people were pouring out of their houses in terror and
panic, not knowing whither to turn for safety.

Those who were below in the church were now tearing all the gold and
silver ornamentation from the altar, and the communion plate was
scattered on the floor of the chancel.

Vainly the frightened priests strove to stay the work of destruction and
violation; the seamen were deaf to all entreaty, and cut and tore the
silken hangings from the altar, wrapping the costly fabric over their
own tarry and soiled clothing. Every man plundered for himself only,
and would allow none to rob him of his intended spoil.

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