by Eugène Sue
“Now, your high — now, good sir, although I have a dozen small guns, and a few swivel guns, my cargo is of such value that I come, good sir, in fear of corsairs and pirates — —”
“Well?”
“Go on, Master Daniel, I have never seen you thus.”
“I come, good sir, to ask your permission to set sail in company with the frigate which has anchored just now in the roads.”
“Confound it! I can understand why you are embarrassed in making such a request, Master Daniel,” said the baron. “They are to give you his majesty’s frigates to serve as escort to your cargo!”
Chemerant looked fixedly at the captain, shrugged his shoulders, and responded, “It is impossible! The frigate is a fast sailer; she could not diminish her speed to attend on your vessel — you are crazy!”
“Oh, sir, if it is only that, fear nothing. Without decrying his majesty’s frigate, since I do not know her, I can engage to follow her, no matter how much sail she carries, or whatever wind or sea is in her sails or ahead.”
“I tell you you are crazy. The Thunderer is the swiftest of ships.”
“My good sir, do not refuse me,” said Master Daniel, in a supplicating tone. “If this proud frigate sails quicker than the Unicorn — well, this man-of-war will desert the poor merchant ship, but at least I shall have been a good part of the way under the shelter of the flag of the king, and the prowlers of the sea are only especially to be feared in the starting. Ah, sir, a cargo worth more than a million, by which the enemies of our good king will profit if they succeed in getting possession of the Unicorn — —”
“But I repeat to you that the frigate, although a man-of-war, would not have time to defend you if you were attacked; her mission is such that she ought not to be embarrassed with a convoy.”
“Oh, good sir,” replied Captain Daniel, clasping his hands, “you will have no embarrassment because of me; there will be no risk of my being attacked if they see me under the protection of your guns. There is not a corsair who would dare even to approach me, seeing me so bravely accompanied. With all respect, sir, the wolves attack the lambs only when the dogs are absent.”
“Poor lamb of a Master Daniel!” said the governor.
“Ah, good sir, let it not be said that a warship of the king, our master, refused a poor unfortunate merchant who asked only the protection of his flag, so long as he was able to follow it.”
Chemerant found it hard to refuse this request, which in nowise interfered with the maneuvers of the frigate, as Captain Daniel engaged to follow the course of the Thunderer or allow himself to be abandoned. Nevertheless, De Chemerant refused. “You know well,” he said to the captain, “that if, in spite of our escort, a corsair attacked you, a king’s ship could not leave you defenseless. Again, you will hinder the maneuvers of the frigate. It is impossible.”
“But, sir, my rich cargo — —”
“You have guns, defend it. I will not allow you the convoy. It is impossible.”
“Alas! my good God! I, who have come expressly from St. Pierre to ask this favor from you!” said Daniel, in a dolorous tone.
“Well, you will wait for another chance. I cannot cover you with my flag.”
“However, good sir — —”
“Enough!” said Chemerant, in a harsh and peremptory tone.
Captain Daniel made a last reverence, and, retreating slowly to the staircase, he disappeared.
“To see these merchants! To hear them one would think there were no interests in the world but those of their cargoes,” said De Chemerant.
“There are, however, very few circumstances in which one refuses an escort,” said the governor, with an air of astonishment.
“There are very few, indeed, baron, but there are some,” said Chemerant brusquely, while withdrawing.
Croustillac had been conducted to the finest apartment in the house. When he awoke night had fallen, and the moon shone with so brilliant a light that it illuminated his chamber perfectly.
Croustillac looked out of his window; the two sentinels paced peacefully at the foot of the wall.
“The devil!” said the adventurer. “It is decidedly impossible to make my escape on this side; there are at least twenty feet to descend just to fall on the backs of these sentinels, and they would find this manner of quitting the governor’s house very singular. Let us look at the other side, then.”
Croustillac approached the door with a light step; but a bright light thrown on the floor showed him that the neighboring room was lighted and probably occupied.
By the aid of a tinder-box which he found on the mantel, he lighted a candle, and dressed himself in his old clothes, with a melancholy satisfaction. They exhaled the strong and aromatic odor of the plants and herbs of the surroundings through which Croustillac had so long walked in his wanderings in the forest around Devil’s Cliff.
“Zounds! Chance is devilishly well named Chance,” said the Gascon to himself. “It has always had a particular affection for me. If it was canonized, I would make it my patron saint. Chance — Polyphème, Sire de Croustillac! When, on board the Unicorn, I made a bet that I would marry Blue Beard, who could have foreseen that this foolish wager was almost won; for, after all, in the eyes of the man with the dagger and of De Chemerant, I passed, I still pass, as the husband of the lady of Devil’s Cliff. How all things hang together in fate! When I quitted the parsonage of Father Griffen, nose in air, shoulders squared, my switch in my hand to drive away the serpents, who the devil would have said that I left to go, not directly it is true, to incite the Cornwallers to revolt in favor of King James and Louis XIV! Zounds! One may well say that the ways of Providence are inscrutable. Who could have penetrated into this? Ah! now the critical moment approaches. I am sometimes tempted to disclose all to the good man Chemerant. Yes, but I think that each hour gained removes the duke and his wife three or four leagues further from Martinique. I think that here, on land, my trial might be carried out immediately and my gallows raised in the wink of an eye, while on the open sea there would perhaps be no persons present competent to judge me. I think, after all, that if Blue Beard has begged (as I suppose) Father Griffen to endeavor to withdraw me from the claws of Chemerant, that a sudden and imprudent revelation on my part would spoil all. Much better, then, to keep silence. Yes, all well considered,” resumed Croustillac after a moment of reflection, “to let De Chemerant’s mistake last as long as possible, that is the better part for me to take.”
During these reflections Croustillac had dressed himself. “Now,” he said, “let me see if there are any means of getting out of here secretly.”
So saying, he softly opened the door and beheld with disappointment the lackeys of the governor, who rose respectfully on seeing him. One went to seek the baron; the other said to Croustillac, “Monsieur the governor forbade us to enter the chamber of your highness until called; he will come on the instant.”
“No matter, my boy, only show me the door to the garden. It is very warm; I wish to take the air for awhile — but no, there are undoubtedly trees in the garden; I prefer the open space, the field — —”
“That is very simple, your highness; in descending from the gallery you will find yourself in the garden, from which a gate opens into the fields.”
“Very well, then, my boy, conduct me there quickly. I long for the fields like a bird in a cage.”
“Ah, it is not necessary, your highness; here is monsieur the baron, he will conduct you himself,” said the lackey.
“To the devil with the baron!” thought Croustillac. The governor was not alone; Chemerant accompanied him.
“Faith, your highness,” said the latter, “fortunately we see you risen. We came to wake you.”
“To wake me — and why?”
“Wind and tide wait for no one. The tide goes out at three o’clock; it is now half-past two. It will take us a half hour to reach the mole, where the boat awaits us. We have just time to get there, your highness.”
; “Now, then, the die is cast,” said Croustillac. “Let us try only to gain a few hours before being presented to my partisans. Sir, I am at your orders,” added the adventurer, draping himself in a brown mantle which he had found with his clothes.
The governor felt it his duty to accompany, as escort, De Chemerant and the mysterious unknown to the mole; the flight of the Gascon was thus rendered absolutely impossible.
At the moment of quitting the governor, Chemerant said to him, “Sir, I will render to the king a full account of the efficient aid you have given me. I can now say it to you, the secret has been perfectly kept.”
“But, sir, may I know what were these indications?” cried the baron, so poorly informed on what he was burning to know.
“You may be certain, baron,” said Chemerant, cordially pressing his hand, “that the king will know all — and it will not be my fault if you are not rewarded as you deserve.”
Thus saying, Chemerant gave the order to put off.
“If the king is to know all he will be much ahead of me,” said the baron, slowly returning to his house. “What I have learned from the guards of the escort has only augmented my curiosity. It was hardly worth the trouble to toil and moil, and stay on one’s feet all night, to be so badly informed of things of the greatest importance, taking place in my own government!”
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE FRIGATE.
THE MOON THREW a brilliant light over the waters of Fort Royal. The long boat which bore Croustillac and his fortunes advanced rapidly toward the Thunderer, which was anchored at the entrance of the bay.
The Gascon, enveloped in his mantle, occupied the place of honor in the boat, which seemed to fly over the water.
“Sir,” said he to Chemerant, “I wish to reflect ripely on the discourse which it is my intention to address to my partisans; you comprehend — it is necessary that I pronounce a sort of manifesto in which I disclose my political principles; that I tell them my hopes in order to make them partakers in them; that, in fine, I give them, in a manner, a plan of campaign; now all this needs long elaboration. These are the bases of our undertaking. It is necessary to disclose all to them — the consequences of the alliance, or rather the moral, that is to say material support which England lends us, or rather France — In short,” said Croustillac, who began to be singularly mixed up in his politics, “I do not wish to receive my partisans till to-morrow, in the morning. I wish, even, that my arrival on board should be conducted as quietly as possible.”
“It is very probable, my lord, that all these brave gentlemen are asleep, for they did not know at what hour your highness was to arrive.”
“This mad — this brave Mortimer is capable of waiting up all night for me,” said Croustillac, with disquietude.
“That is not to be doubted, your highness, by one who knows the ardent impatience with which he desires your return.”
“Hold, sir,” said the Gascon, “between you and me, I know my Mortimer; he is very nervous, very impressionable. I should fear for him — a shock, a too sudden effect of joy, should I appear abruptly before him. Thus, in going aboard I shall take the precaution of well wrapping myself up in order to escape his eyes — and even if he asks you if I shall soon arrive, oblige me by answering him in an evasive manner. In this way we can prepare him for an interview, which without these precautions might prove fatal to this devoted friend.”
“Ah! fear nothing, your highness; excess of joy can never be fatal.”
“Indeed, you deceive yourself, sir; without taking account of a thousand general facts with which I might corroborate my opinion, I will cite on this subject a fact quite personal and particular to the very man of whom we are now talking.”
“To Lord Mortimer?”
“To him, sir. I shall never forget that once I saw him seized with frightful convulsions under circumstances almost similar. There were nervous starts — swoons — —”
“However, your highness, Lord Mortimer has an athletic constitution.”
“An athletic constitution? Come, then, it only remained that I should encounter a Hercules in this run-mad Pylades,” thought Croustillac. He spoke aloud:
“You don’t know, sir, that it is these very men of great strength who are just the ones who most keenly feel such shocks. I will even tell you — but this is entirely between ourselves — at least — —”
“Your highness may be sure of my discretion.”
“You will understand my reserve, sir. I will tell you then that, on the occasion of which I speak — this unfortunate Mortimer was so stupefied — (if it were not for our intimate friendship, I should say rendered stupid) by seeing too suddenly some one he had not met for a long time — that his head — you comprehend — —”
“What, your highness, his reason — —”
“Alas! yes, in this instance only — . You now comprehend why I demand secrecy of you?”
“Yes, yes, your highness.”
“But that was not all; the shock suffered by poor Mortimer was such that, after having remained several moments stupefied with surprise, he no longer recognized this person; no, sir, he did not recognize him, though he had seen him a thousand times!”
“Is it possible, your highness?” said De Chemerant, in a tone of respectful doubt.
“It is, alas! only too true, sir, for you have no idea of the excitability of this good fellow. So I, who am his friend, should watch carefully that no trouble come to him. Think, then, if I should expose him to the risk of not knowing me. Mortimer is now the one whom I love most in the world, and you know, alas! sir, if the consolations of friendship are necessary to me.”
“Still these unhappy memories, your highness?”
“Yes, I am weak, I own it — it is stronger than I.”
“What is this ship anchored not far from the frigate?” demanded De Chemerant of the master of the long boat, in order to change the conversation, out of regard for the feelings of the supposed duke.
“That, sir, is a merchantman, which arrived last night from St. Pierre,” said the sailor, respectfully removing his cap.
“Ah! I know,” said De Chemerant; “it is probably the ship of that fool of a merchant-captain who demanded our escort. But here we are, your highness — the lights are all out — you are not expected.”
“So much the better, so much the better; provided Mortimer is not there.”
“It seems to me that I see him on the bridge, your highness.”
Croustillac raised his mantle almost to his eyes.
“Ah! there is the officer of the watch on the ladder. What a pity to arrive so late, your highness. It is to the beat of drums, the flourish of trumpets, that your highness should have been received, with the ship’s crew presenting arms.”
“Honors to-morrow — honors to-morrow,” said Croustillac; “the hour of these frivolities always comes soon enough.”
Chemerant drew aside to allow the Gascon to mount the ladder first. The latter breathed freely again on seeing on deck only an officer of marines, who received him with bared head and a profoundly respectful air. Croustillac responded with great dignity, and above all, very briefly, enveloping himself in his mantle with the utmost care, and casting uneasy glances around him, fearing to see the terrible Mortimer. Fortunately he saw only the sailors talking together or reclining by the side of the guns.
The officer, who was speaking in a low tone to De Chemerant, saluting Croustillac again, said to him:
“Your highness, since you command it, I will not awaken the captain, and I shall have the honor of conducting you to your cabin.”
Croustillac inclined his head.
“Till to-morrow, your highness,” said De Chemerant.
“Till to-morrow,” responded the adventurer.
The officer descended by the hatchway to the gun-deck, opened the door of a large, wide cabin perfectly lighted by a skylight, and said to the Gascon: “Your highness, there is your cabin; there are two other small rooms to the right and le
ft.”
“This is admirable, sir; do me the favor, I pray you, to give the strictest orders that no one enters my cabin to-morrow until I call. No one, sir, you understand — absolutely no one! — this is of the last importance.”
“Very well, my lord. Your highness does not wish that I should send one of the people to assist you to disrobe?”
“I am a soldier, sir,” said Croustillac proudly, “and I disrobe without assistance.”
The young officer bowed, taking this response for a lesson in stoicism; he went out, ordering one of the orderlies to allow no one to enter the cabin of the duke, and again ascended on deck to rejoin De Chemerant.
“Your duke is a veritable Spartan, my dear De Chemerant,” said he to him. “Why! he has not brought even a lackey.”
“That is true,” responded De Chemerant; “such strange things have taken place on land that neither he nor I thought of it; but I will give him one of my people. Just now the important thing is to set sail.”
“That is also the opinion of the captain. He gave me orders to wake him if you judged it necessary to depart at once.”
“We will start on the instant, for both wind and tide are in our favor, I think,” answered De Chemerant.
“So favorable,” said the officer, “that if this wind holds, to-morrow by sunrise we shall no longer be able to see the shores of Martinique.”
A half-hour after the arrival of the Gascon on board, the Thunderer got under sail with an excellent breeze from the southwest.
When De Chemerant saw the frigate leaving the roads, he could not refrain from rubbing his hands, saying to himself, “Faith it is not that I am vain and boastful, but I would only have given this mission in a hundred to the most skillful of men — to unravel the projects of the English envoy, to conquer the scruples of the duke, to aid him to revenge himself on a guilty wife, to tear him by force of eloquence from the overwhelming feelings this conjugal accident has roused in his soul, to bring him back to England at the head of his partisans — by my faith, Chemerant, my friend, that was left to you to do! Your fortune, already on the road to success, behold it forever assured; this good success delights me the more that the king regards this affair as important. Once more, bravo!”