 as secret fire in
a ship's hold consumes cotton in the bale.
    But now, lying between the two guns, as nipped in the vice of fate, Billy's
agony, mainly proceeding from a generous young heart's virgin experience of the
diabolical incarnate and effective in some men - the tension of that agony was
over now. It survived not the something healing in the closeted interview with
Captain Vere. Without movement he lay as in a trance, that adolescent
expression, previously noted as his, taking on something akin to the look of a
slumbering child in the cradle when the warm hearth-glow of the still chamber of
night plays on the dimples that at whiles mysteriously form in the cheek,
silently coming and going there. For now and then in the gyved one's trance, a
serene happy light born of some wandering reminiscence or dream would diffuse
itself over his face, and then wane away only anew to return.
    The chaplain coming to see him and finding him thus, and perceiving no sign
that he was conscious of his presence, attentively regarded him for a space,
then slipping aside, withdrew for the time, peradventure feeling that even he,
the minister of Christ, though receiving his stipend from wars, had no
consolation to proffer which could result in a peace transcending that which he
beheld. But in the small hours he came again. And the prisoner, now awake to his
surroundings, noticed his approach, and civilly, all but cheerfully, welcomed
him. But it was to little purpose that in the interview following the good man
sought to bring Billy Budd to some Godly understanding that he must die, and at
dawn. True, Billy himself freely referred to his death as a thing close at hand;
but it was something in the way that children will refer to death in general,
who yet among their other sports will play a funeral with hearse and mourners.
Not that like children Billy was incapable of conceiving what death really is.
No, but he was wholly without irrational fear of it, a fear more prevalent in
highly civilised communities than those so-called barbarous ones which in all
respects stand nearer to unadulterate Nature. And, as elsewhere said, a
barbarian Billy radically was; quite as much so (for all the costume) as his
countrymen the British captives, living trophies made to march in the Roman
triumph of Germanicus. Quite as much so as those later barbarians, young men
probably, and picked specimens among the earlier British converts to
Christianity, at least nominally such, and taken to Rome (as to-day converts
