The door's been flung open again, either by the blast of shot or by his falling back into it, so half of him is lying on the gundeck now. Suddenly, radiance warms his tightly closed eyelids. It could be a choir of angels, or a squadron of flaming devils, but he doesn't believe in any of that stuff. Or it could be Minerva 's powder magazine exploding – but that would involve loud noises, and the only noises he hears are the creaking and grumbling of gun-carriages being hauled forward. There's a refreshing sea breeze in his nostrils. He takes a big risk and opens his eyes.