The yellow flag and the signal gun brought everything in the shape of duty to a standstill in all the fleets.  The hoarse commands ceased—­the boatswains and their mates laid aside their calls, and the echoing midshipmen no longer found orders to repeat.  The seamen gathered to the sides of their respective vessels—­every part glistened with expectant eyes—­the booms resembled clusters of bees suspended from the boughs of a forest; and the knight-heads, taffrails, gangways, and stretchers of the rigging were garnished with those whose bright buttons, glazed hats, epaulets, and dark-blue dresses denoted to belong to the privileged classes of a ship.  Notwithstanding all this curiosity, nothing like the feeling which is apt to be manifested at an exhibition of merited punishment was visible in a single countenance.  An expression resembling a sombre gloom appeared to have settled on all those grim warriors of the deep; English, Russian, Neapolitan, or Turk, apparently reserving all his sympathies for the sufferer, rather than for the majesty of justice.  Still, no murmur arose—­no sign of resistance was made—­no look of remonstrance given.  The unseen mantle of authority covered all; and these masses of discontented men submitted as we bow to what is believed to be the fiat of fate.  The deep-seated and unresisting habit of discipline suppressed complaint, but there was a general conviction that some act was about to be committed that it were better for humanity and justice should not be done; or, if done at all, that it needed more of form, greater deliberation and a fairer trial, to be so done as to obtain the commendation of men.  The Turks alone showed apathy; though all showed submission.  These subjects of destiny looked on coldly, though even among them a low rumor had passed that a malign influence prevailed in the fleet; and that a great and proud spirit had got to be mastered by the passion that so often deprives heroes of their self-command and independence.

Ghita ceased her prayers, as the report of the gun broke rudely on her ears, and with streaming eyes she even dared to look toward the frigate.  Raoul and all the rest bent their gaze in the same direction.  The sailors, among them, saw the rope at the fore-yard-arm move, and then heads rose slowly above the hammock-cloths; when the prisoner and his attendant priest were visible even to their feet.  The unfortunate Caraccioli, as has been said, had nearly numbered his threescore and ten years, in the regular course of nature; and his bare head now showed the traces of time.  He wore no coat; and his arms were bound behind his back, at the elbows, leaving just motion enough to the hands to aid him in the slighter offices about his own person.  His neck was bare, and the fatal cord was tightened sufficiently around it to prevent accidents, constantly admonishing its victim of its revolting office.