"How? Unnecessary! On the contrary, I must do it, without further delay."
"Still you have time, Major," the sailor said, peremptorily; "besides, I must speak with you first."
"You speak with me?" the Major exclaimed, in stupefaction.
"So it is, Major," the other replied, sarcastically. "I have very important matters to tell you. In your devil of a castle that is impossible, because you have there a number of soldiers and gaolers, who, at your slightest frown, interrupt the person addressing you, and throw him without ceremony into some hole, where they unscrupulously leave him to rot. That is discouraging, on my honour. But here it is far more agreeable, as I am not afraid that you will have me locked up —at least, not for the present. Hence, as the opportunity offers, I wish to take advantage of it to empty my budget, and tell you what I have on my heart."
The Major felt internally anxious, without yet knowing positively what he had to fear, so extraordinary to him seemed this way of speaking on the part of a sailor, who had hitherto always displayed a servile politeness toward him. Still, he did not allow anything of this to be seen, but leaned carelessly over the table.
"Very good, let us talk, since you feel so great an inclination for it, my good Michael; for I have time, as I am in no hurry."
The sailor made his chair turn half round on its hind legs, and finding himself by this movement right facing M. de l'Oursière, he examined him cunningly, for an instant, then drained the contents of his glass; and, after banging the empty glass on the table, he said,—
"It is really a charming passion of yours, Major, to go thus at night to admire the ruins of the convent of St. Honorat in the darkness. It is, really, a charming passion, and a very profitable one, from what I have been able to learn."
"What do you mean?" the Major asked, turning pale.
"I mean what I say, nothing else! Do you believe in hazard, Major?"
"Why—"
"No more, I fancy, in that which makes me meet you here, than in the chance that makes you find on a desert island diamonds worth three hundred thousand livres; because the one thing is as impossible as the other?"
This time the Major did not attempt to reply, for he felt he was caught out.
Michael continued in the same sneering and bantering tone—
"It is certainly ingenious to act as you do. A man soon grows rich by taking with both hands, but like all trades that are too good, this one is rather risky."
"You insult me, scoundrel!" the Major stammered. "Take care what you say. If I call—"
"Come, come," the sailor interrupted, with a coarse laugh; "I do not intend to notice the insult you cast in my teeth, for I have something else to do. As for calling out, just try it, and you will see what will happen."
"That—that is treachery!"
"Hang it! Are we not all more or less traitors? You are one—I am one; that is allowed: hence, believe me, it is useless to dwell any longer on this subject, and we had better revert to our business."
"Speak," the Major muttered in a gloomy voice.
"But, stay. I wish to give you a proof of frankness, and show you once for all how wrong you would be in keeping up, I will not say the least hope, but the slightest illusion as to what is going on here."
Then, tapping the table smartly with the heel of his glass, he shouted,—
"Come here, Nicaud, I want you."
A heavy step resounded on the cabin stairs, and almost immediately Skipper Nicaud's cunning face was framed by the doorway.
"What do you want, Michael?" he asked, without seeming even to notice the Major's presence.
"Only a trifle, my lad," the sailor replied, pointing to the officer, who had turned pale, through the emotion he felt. "Only a simple question for the personal satisfaction of this gentleman."
"Speak."
"Who is the present commander of the Seagull lugger, in whose cabin we are now seated?"
"Why, you, of course."
"Then everyone aboard, yourself included, must obey me?"
"Certainly; and without the slightest observation."
"Very good. Then supposing, Nicaud, I were to order you to take the Major here present, fasten a couple of round shot to his feet, and throw him overboard, what would you do, my lad?"
"What would I do?"
"Yes."
"Obey."
"Without any observation?"
Skipper Nicaud shrugged his shoulders.
"Shall I do it?" he asked, stretching out his huge fist towards the Major, who shuddered.
"Not yet," Michael answered. "Go back on deck, but do not go far, as I shall probably want you soon."
"Very good," said the master, and disappeared.
"Are you now edified, Major?" Michael asked, turning carelessly to the horrified governor; "And are you not beginning to understand that I, poor chap as I am, compared with you, have you, temporarily, at any rate, completely in my power?"
"I allow it," the Major stammered, in a faint and choking voice.
"In that case, I believe we shall come to an understanding."
"Come to the facts, sir, without further circumlocution."
"Good!" Michael exclaimed, coarsely; "That's how I like to see you. In the first place, hand me the diamond which your accomplice gave you in the ruins."
"Then you mean robbery. I had hoped better things of you," the Major answered, disdainfully.
"Call it what you like, Major," the sailor said imperturbably; "the name does not alter the thing—give me the diamond."
"No," the Major answered coldly, "the diamond is my fortune, and you shall only have it with my life."
"That condition, illogical though it is, will not check me, I assure you, for I will kill you, if necessary, and then take the diamond," and he cocked a pistol.
There was a silence.
"Well, then, it is really this diamond you want?"
"That and something else," said Michael.
"I do not understand you."
The sailor rose, placed the pistol to his chest, and said frowningly—
"I will make you understand me."
The Major felt he was lost, and that this man would kill him.
"Stop!" he said.
"Have you decided?"
"Yes," he answered, in a voice choked with rage, and drawing the box from his bosom, he muttered, "Curse you, take it!"
Michael returned the pistol to his belt, opened the box, and attentively examined the diamond.
"It is the one," he said, as he closed the box again, and stowed it away.
The unlucky officer followed all these movements with a lack-lustre eye.
Michael resumed his seat, poured himself out a glass of rum, swallowed it at a draught, and then bending forward as he filled his pipe, said—
"Now, let us talk."
"What, talk?" asked the Major; "Have we not finished yet?"
"Not yet—what a hurry you are in. At present we have said nothing."
"What more do you want of me?"
"That is meant for a reproach; but I allow for your ill temper, and owe you no grudge for it. It is a sad thing for a man who has been poor all his life to see himself robbed in a moment of a fortune which he had only just secured. Well, then, listen to me, Major," he said, assuming a consolatory air, and putting his elbows on the table, "it is easy for you to regain the fortune you have lost, and it only depends on yourself."
The Major opened his eyes widely, not knowing whether to take what the sailor said to him seriously; but as he risked nothing by permitting an explanation, he prepared to give him the most earnest attention.
The other continued—
"No matter how I learned the fact—I know for certain, and the affair of the diamond is an undeniable proof of it—that, while on one hand, you feigned to feel the greatest interest for Count de Barmont, from whom you have drawn large sums, though I don't say it in reproach, by means of this feigned pity; on the other, you betray him without shame to his enemies, whom you make pay for it heavily. I merely mention this as a fact, and it is unnecessary to discuss it," Michael said, checking the Major, who was about to speak. "Now, I have made up my mind that, against wind and tide, and in spite of all the intrigues of his enemies to prevent it, the Count shall be free, and free through me. This is my plan: listen attentively to this, Mr. Governor, for the affair concerns you' more nearly than you seem to suppose. The Count has learnt the death of Cardinal de Richelieu, and I sent him the news in a letter from the Duc de Bellegarde. You see that I know everything, or nearly so: he at once requested to see you, and you granted his wish. What took place at your interview? Speak, and before all, be frank: in my turn, I will listen to you."
"Of what use is it to repeat our conversation?" the Major asked, ironically.
"For my private satisfaction," Michael answered, "and your special interest: do not be in too great a hurry to rejoice, Major, for you are not out of my hands yet. Believe me, you had better yield with a good grace, for your interest demands it."
"My interest?" he repeated, in amazement.
"Go on, Major; when the time arrives, be assured, I shall give you the explanation you desire."
The old officer reflected for a moment: at last he decided to speak, resolved, if the opportunity offered itself hereafter, to make the sailor pay dearly for all his agony and humiliation.
"The Count," he said, "engaged me to go to Paris, and negotiate with the Duc de Bellegarde, in order to bring him back his order of release, which the duke is certain to obtain from the king."
"That is good. And when do you intend to start for Paris?"
"I have started."
"Ah! Ah!" said Michael, with a laugh. "It appears that you have stopped on the road, but that has nothing to do with the affair. Is that all?"
"Nearly so."
"Hum! then there is something else?"
"Less than nothing."
"No matter—out with it, for I am very curious. Did not the Count promise you something?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand livres," the Major said, with repugnance.
"Ah, ah, that is a tidy sum! And you were setting about earning it in a strange fashion; but I do not wish to refer to that any more. Do you wish to recover your diamond, and at the same time gain the fifty thousand livres promised by the Count? Speak, it depends on yourself."
"You are jesting with me, and not speaking seriously."
"Never, on the contrary, have I been more serious. On the Count's arrival at the castle you command, you were only a poor scrub of an officer of fortune, who, during his whole life, had been struggling against odds, and perched like an owl on an old wall, you were exposed on your isle to die as you had lived; that is to say, without a rap. During the last fifteen or eighteen months, things have completely changed with you. With what you have extorted from the Count, and what his enemies have given you, you have succeeded in getting together a very decent sum. Admitting that you were to receive the Count's fifty thousand livres, and I were to give you back the diamond, it would produce you a perfectly independent fortune, enabling you to retire when you pleased, and end your days in joy and abundance. Is not that your opinion?"
"Certainly, but I shall not touch the 50,000 livres, and the diamond you have taken from me."
"That is true, but," he added, "it is only dependent on yourself, Major, to have it again in your possession."
"What must I do for that?"
"That is what I was waiting for, Major; you consent then, to enter into an arrangement?"
"I must; have I my free will at this moment?"
"A man always has it when he likes, Major, you know that as well as I do; the only thing is, that as you are a man endowed with a strong dose of intelligence, and understand, that when a person has made a fortune by means more or less honourable, he must keep it at all hazards, you are beginning to lend a more attentive ear to the propositions which you guess I am preparing to make you, for you are at length convinced that it is to your interest to come to an understanding with me."
"Suppose what you like, I do not care; but tell me your propositions, so that I may know whether my honour allows me to accept them or forces me to refuse them."
Michael began laughing unceremoniously at this outburst, by which the Major sought to mask his capitulation.
"Instead of going to Paris," he said, "you will simply return to Sainte Marguerite. You will go to the Count, tell him he is free, and then return with him on board the lugger, which will wait for you. When the Count and yourself are on board, the lugger will stand out to sea. Then I will restore you your diamond and pay you the amount agreed on; and as probably you will not care to resume the command of your castle after such a frolic, I will convey you, and your wealth wherever you like, in order to enjoy it without fear of being disturbed."
"But," the Major observed, "what shall I tell the Count to persuade him that he is free by the King's orders?"
"That does not concern me, it is your affair; but hang it all, my dear Major, you are unjust to yourself in raising any doubts as to the power of your imagination. Now what do you think of my proposition, and do you accept it?"
"What security have I that you are not deceiving me, and that when I have fulfilled the conditions of the bargain you impose on me, you keep yours as strictly?"
"The word of a honest man, sir, a word, which though that of a plain sailor, is worth that of a gentleman."
"I believe you, sir," the Major answered, lowering his eyes before Michael's flashing glance.
"Then, that is settled?"
"Yes, it is."
"All right. Hallo! Nicaud!" Michael shouted.
The skipper arrived with a speed that proved he had not been far from the two speakers.
"Here I am, Michael, what do you want?"
"Where are we at this moment?" the sailor asked.
"About five leagues to windward of Sainte Marguerite."
"Very good! Keep on the same course till daybreak; at sunrise we will stand for the island, and anchor off it."
"Very good, I understand."
"Ah! Here is Mr. Governor, who I think, has great want of a little rest; can't you put him up somewhere where he will be able to sleep for two or three hours?"
"Nothing easier, as I shall not turn in tonight, nor you, I suppose, my cabin is at the Major's service, if he will do me the honour of accepting it."
The old officer was really worn out, not only by the fatigue of a long watch, but also by the emotions he had suffered from during the night. Certain that he had now no apprehensions about his safety, he heartily accepted the skipper's offer, and withdrew into the cabin, the door of which the other politely opened for him.
The two sailors went up on deck again.
"This time," said Michael, "I believe that we have manoeuvred cleverly, and that our plan will succeed."
"I am beginning to be of your opinion; but I say, wasn't that old cormorant of a governor tough?"
"Not very," Michael replied with a laugh, "besides, he had no choice; he was obliged to give in, whether he liked it or not."
As had been arranged, the lugger stood off and on from the island during the whole night, at a distance of from four to five leagues from the coast.
At sunrise, they steered directly for St. Marguerite.
The breeze had lulled nearer shore, so that it occupied some time ere the light vessel reached the species of port serving as a landing place in front of the castle.
The lugger drew too much water for it to be possible to run alongside the quay; hence it lay to a short distance off; and Nicaud had a boat lowered, while Michael went down into the cabin to warn the Major.
The latter was awake; refreshed and rested by sleep, he was no longer the same man, he now regarded his position in its true light, and understood that the means offered him to escape from the disagreeable position in which he was placed by his double treachery, was more advantageous than otherwise for him.
It was almost with a smile that he wished Michael good day, and he made no difficulty about accepting the hand the sailor offered to him.
"Well," he asked him, "whereabouts are we, Michael?"
"We have arrived, Major."
"Already? Are you not afraid it is too early to go ashore?"
"Not at all; it is nine o'clock."
"So late? Hang it, it seems that I have slept soundly; in truth, I feel quite jolly this morning."
"All the better, Major, that is a good sign; I suppose you remember our arrangements?"
"Perfectly."
"And you will play fairly with us?"
"In my turn I pledge my honour to it, and I will keep it, whatever may happen."
"Come, I am glad to hear you talk like that; I am beginning to alter my opinion about you."
"Stuff," the Major remarked laughingly, "you do not know me yet."
"You are aware that the boat is ready, it is only waiting for you to go ashore."
"If that is the case, I will follow you, Michael; I am now as eager as you are to finish the affair."
The Major went on deck and got into the boat, which was at once pushed off, and set out for the landing place.
Michael's heart beat ready to burst, while he followed with an anxious eye, the light yawl which was rapidly leaving the lugger, and was already close in shore.
The Major had scarce landed at Sainte Marguerite, ere everything were in commotion in the fort.
On leaving the isle on the previous evening, the governor had stated that he was going on a journey, and would be absent a week, perhaps two.
The Lieutenant, intrusted with the command of the fort during his absence, eagerly hastened to meet him, curious to learn the motive for such a speedy return.
The Major at first replied evasively, that news he had received on landing on the mainland, had necessitated the immediate interruption of his journey; and, while conversing thus, he entered the fort and proceeded to his apartments, followed by the Lieutenant whom he had invited to accompany him.
"Sir," he said to him so soon as they were alone, "you will immediately choose from the garrison ten resolute men; and proceed with them on board the fishing vessel I noticed at anchor when I entered the fort. The missive I entrust to you is most important, and if you carry it out thoroughly, may have important results for you; it must be managed with the most profound secrecy, however, for it is a secret of state."
The Lieutenant bowed gratefully, evidently flattered at the confidence his chief placed in him.
The Major continued.
"You will land on the coast a little below Antibes, and keep the boat, which you will use for your return; you will manage so as not to enter the town till nightfall, without attracting any attention, you will lodge your men as best you can without arousing suspicions, but so as to have them under hand at any moment. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, you will present yourself to the town commandant, hand him a letter I shall give you, and place yourself at his disposal. Have you understood me thoroughly, sir?"
"Perfectly, Mr. Governor."
"Before all, I recommend you the most utter discretion; remember that your fortune probably depends on the success of the mission."
"I will obey you, Major, and I hope that you will only have compliments to pay me on my return."
"I trust so too, sir, but make haste, for you must be gone in half an hour. During your preparations I will write the letter; it will be ready when you come to take leave again."
The lieutenant, after bowing respectfully, retired with a joyous heart, not having the slightest suspicion of the treachery meditated by his chief, and went off at full speed to make all the preparations for his departure.
The Major had under his orders a garrison of fifty men, commanded by three officers, a captain and two lieutenants.
This captain, the next in rank to him, would doubtless have greatly impeded the success of the bold stroke he meditated, owing to the pretext he would have been obliged to invent, in order to account for the want of a release in writing for the Count.
By sending him away, the Major had only to deal with two subalterns, ranking too low in the military scale to venture to make observations, or hesitate to accomplish his orders, the more so, because during the ten or twelve years M. de l'Oursière had commanded Fort Sainte Marguerite, nothing in his conduct had led to the slightest painful suspicions about his honour.
Forced by circumstances to betray his duty and quit his native land forever, which he knew he should never see again after this audacious scheme, the Major wished to leave nothing to chance, but turn his lost position to the greatest possible advantage. He hoped that the measures he had taken would protect him from any danger, when his treachery was eventually discovered.
But, through a very laudable feeling of justice, especially on the part of such a man and under such circumstances, the Major desired alone to bear the burden of his infamous conduct and not to attract suspicion of complicity on his poor officers, whom duty compelled to obey him, in what they considered a portion of their military service.
Hence he wrote to the governor of Antibes a very circumstantial letter, in which he narrated, without the slightest omission, the treason he meditated, and which would be carried out at the time when the governor read the strange missive; he explained the motives that obliged him to act as he was doing, while taking on himself all the responsibility of such a deed, and acquitting his officers and soldiers, not only of all co-operation, but of all cognisance, even indirect, of his project.
These duties scrupulously accomplished—for it was impossible for the governor to be deceived as to the frankness of his confession, or to doubt them for a moment—the Major folded the letter, sealed it carefully, and laid it on the table while awaiting the return of his second in command.
Now, as his vessels were burnt, M. de l'Oursière could no longer retreat; he must push on and succeed; the certainty of certain ruin if his scheme were foiled, removed his last doubts, and restored him all the necessary calmness to act with the coolness demanded by the strange circumstances in which he found himself placed.
The Captain entered.
"Well?" the Major asked him.
"I am ready to start, Mr. Governor; my soldiers are already on board the fishing boat, and we shall have left the island in ten minutes."
"Here is the letter you have to deliver into the hands of the Governor of Antibes, sir; remember my instructions."
"I will obey them in every point."
"In that case, Heaven guard you! and good-bye," the Major said, as he rose.
The officer saluted, and left the room.
The Major watched through the open window of his room; he saw him leave the fort, go down to the shore, and on board the fishing vessel; the sail was hoisted, and ere long the boat started, slightly heeling over under the power of the breeze.
"Ough!" said the Major, closing the window, with a sigh of relief—"that's one, now for the other."
But, before aught else, the old officer shut himself up in his room, burnt certain papers, pocketed others, put some clothes in a small valise, as he did not wish to take all belonging to him, through fear of arousing suspicions, and carefully wrapping up in his cloak a small and very heavy iron casket, which, doubtless, contained his ready money, he assured himself by a glance around that everything was in order, opened the door again, and called.
A soldier appeared.
"Beg Mess. de Castaix and de Mircey to come here," he said, "as I wish to speak to them."
They speedily arrived, greatly puzzled at this unexpected interview, for usually the Governor talked but little with his officers.
"Gentlemen," he said to them, after returning their salute, "an order from the King caused me to return here in all haste. I have to take our prisoner, M. de Barmont, to Antibes, where your Captain has preceded me with a sufficient escort to prevent any attempt at escape on the part of the prisoner. I have acted thus because it is the King's good pleasure that this transference of the Count from one prison to another may have the appearance of a liberation, and I shall explain it in that sense to the prisoner, in order that he may have no suspicion of the new orders I have received. Until my return, which will be in two days at the least, you, Monsieur de Castaix, as senior officer, will assume the command of the fortress. I am pleased to believe, gentlemen, that I shall only have to praise the aptitude you will display in performing your duties during my absence."
The two officers bowed: accustomed to the Cardinal's tortuous and mysterious policy, the Major's remarks did not at all surprise them, for, although His Eminence was dead, the event had not occurred so long that the King should have in any way modified his sullen mode of governing.
"Be kind enough to give orders for the prisoner to be brought into my presence, while I inform him of his liberation," he added, with a mocking smile, whose strange meaning the officers did not comprehend. "You will have all the effects belonging to him placed in the boat of the smuggling lugger on board which I came back. Go, gentlemen."
The officers withdrew.
The Count was greatly surprised when La Grenade opened the door of his cell, and begged him to follow him, as the Governor wished to speak with the prisoner.
He fancied the Major on the road to Paris, as had been arranged between them on the previous evening, and did not at all understand his presence at the fort after the solemn promise he had made.
Another thing also caused him great surprise—ever since he had been a prisoner at Saint Marguerite the Governor had not once sent for him; on the contrary, he had always put himself out of the way by visiting his cell.
But the thing that completely routed his ideas was La Grenade's recommendation to him, to place all his belongings in a trunk, and take the key.
"Why this most unnecessary precaution?" the Count asked him.
"No one ever knows what may happen, sir," the gaoler replied, cunningly; "it is as well to take precautions; and stay, if I were you I would put on my hat and take my cloak."
And while speaking thus, the soldier actively helped him to pack his trunk.
"There, that's done," he said, with a grin of satisfaction, when the Count had taken out the key; "here are your hat and cloak."
"My hat, if you like," the young man remarked, laughingly, "but why my cloak? I run no risk of catching a pleurisy in my short walk to the Governor's presence."
"Will you not take it?"
"Certainly not."
"Then I will; you'll see you will want it."
The young gentleman shrugged his shoulders, without replying, and they left the room, the door of which the gaoler did not take the trouble to lock after him.
The Major was walking up and down his room while awaiting the prisoner. La Grenade showed him in, laid the cloak on a chair, and withdrew.
"Ah, ah!" said the Major, with a laugh—"I see that you suspected something."
"I, Mr. Governor? What was it, if you please?"
"Zounds! you appear to be dressed as if for a journey."
"It is that ass of La Grenade, who, I know not for what reason, obliged me to put on my hat, and insisted on bringing my cloak here."
"He was right."
"How so?"
"My lord, I have the honour to inform you that you are a free man."
"I free!" the Count exclaimed, turning pale with joy and emotion.
"The King has deigned to sign your liberation, and I received the orders on landing at Antibes."
"At last!" the Count burst forth, but then immediately recovered himself. "Can you show me the order, sir?"
"Excuse me, my lord, that is forbidden."
"Ah! For what reason?"
"It is a general precaution, sir."
"In that case I will not press it: at least, you are permitted to tell me at whose request my liberty was granted me?"
"I see no objection to that, sir—it was at the request of the Duc de Bellegarde."
"The dear Duke!—a real friend!" the Count cried, in great emotion.
The Major, with the utmost coolness, handed him a pen, and pointed to a blank space in the register.
"Will you be kind enough, sir, to sign this register?"
The Count hurriedly perused it, and saw that it was a species of certificate of the honourable way he had been treated during the period of his detention. He signed.
"Now, sir, as I am free, for I presume I am so—" "Free as a bird, my lord."
"In that case I can retire. I know not why, but during the last instant these thick, gloomy walls, seem to stifle me, and I shall not breathe at my ease till I feel myself in the open air."
"I understand that, sir. I have made every preparation, and we will embark whenever you please."
"We?" the Count asked, in surprise.
"Yes, my lord, I shall accompany you."
"For what reason, may I ask?"
"To do you honour, sir—for no other reason."
"Very good," he said, thoughtfully; "let us go, then; but I have some traps here."
"They are already on board: come, sir."
The Major took up his valise and casket, and left the room, followed by the Count.
"Did I not tell you you would want your cloak?"
La Grenade said to M. de Barmont, with a bow, as he passed—"Pleasant voyage to you, sir, and good luck."
They went down to the waterside. During the walk, which was not very long, the Count's brow became more and more clouded; he fancied he could notice a certain sorrow on the faces of the officers and soldiers who were watching his departure—they whispered together, and pointed to the Count in anything but a reassuring way, and it gave him much cause for anxiety.
Every now and then he took a side-glance at the Major, but he appeared calm, and had a smile on his face.
They at length reached the boat, and the Major stepped aside to let the Count get into it first.
As soon as they were both in, the boat was pushed off. During the whole passage from the shore to the lugger the Count and the Major remained silent.
At length they came along side the little vessel, a rope was thrown to them, and they went up the side.
The yawl was immediately hauled up, all sail was set, and the lugger stood out to sea.
"Ah!" the Count exclaimed on perceiving Michael, "You are here, then I am saved!"
"I hope so," the latter replied; "but come, my lord, we have matters to discuss."
They went down into the cabin, followed by the Major.
"There, now we can talk, Captain—the first thing is to settle our accounts."
"Our accounts?" M. de Barmont repeated, in surprise.
"Yes, let us proceed regularly. You promised this gentleman 50,000 livres?"
"Yes, I did."
"And you authorize me to give them to him?"
"Certainly."
"Good; in that case he shall have them." Then, turning to the Major—"You have scrupulously kept your promises, and we will keep ours as loyally. Here, in the first place, is your diamond, which I give you back: I will hand you over the money in a moment. I suppose you no more wish to remain in France than we do—eh?"
"I do not wish it the least in the world," the Major replied, delighted at having regained possession of his diamond.
"Where would you like to be landed? Will England suit you, or do you prefer Italy?"
"Well, I do not exactly know."
"Do you like Spain better? 'Tis all the same to me."
"Why not Portugal?"
"Done for Portugal. We will drop you there in passing."
The Count had listened with growing surprise to this conversation, which was incomprehensible to him.
"What is the meaning of all this?" he at length asked.
"It means, Captain," Michael distinctly answered, "that the King has not signed the pardon—that you are a prisoner, and would probably have remained so all your life had not this gentleman, luckily for you, consented to open the door."
"Sir!" the Count exclaimed, making a movement toward the Major.
Michael stopped him.
"Do not be in a hurry to thank him," he said—"wait till he has told you what has occurred, and in what way he found himself obliged to set you at liberty, when he would probably have preferred not to do so."
"Come, come!" said the Count, stamping his foot passionately—"Explain yourself! I understand nothing of all this. I wish to know everything—everything, I tell you!"
"This man will tell you it, Captain; but he is afraid at present of the consequences of his confession, and that is why he hesitates to make it."
M. de Barmont smiled disdainfully.
"This man is beneath my contempt," he said; "whatever he may say I will not take the slightest vengeance on him—he is pardoned beforehand, I pledge him my word as a gentleman."
"Now speak, Major," said Michael; "during that time I will go on deck again with Skipper Nicaud, or, if you prefer it, Bowline, who has played his part remarkably well throughout the affair."
Michael left the cabin, and the two men remained alone.
The Major understood that it was better to make a clean breast of it: hence he told the Count, without any equivocation, the full details of his treachery, and in what manner Michael had compelled him to save him, when, on the contrary, he was paid to ruin him.
Although the name of the Duc de Peñaflor had not once been mentioned during the Major's narration, the Count divined that it was he alone who had dealt him all the blows he had felt so severely during the last eighteen months; however great his resolution might be, this depth of hatred, this Machiavellian vengeance terrified him; but in this extremely detailed narrative one point seemed to him obscure, and that was, how Michael had discovered the final machinations of his enemies, and done so opportunely enough to be able to foil them.
All the questions the Count asked on this head the Major was unable to answer, for he was ignorant.
"Well," asked the sailor, suddenly entering the cabin, "are you now informed, Captain?"
"Yes," the latter replied, with a certain tinge of sadness, "except on one point."
"What is it, Captain?"
"I should like to know in what manner you detected this cleverly contrived plot."
"Very simply, Captain, and I will tell you the whole affair in a couple of words. Bowline and I, without the Major suspecting it, followed him carefully into the ruins, while cautiously avoiding being seen; in this way no part of his conversation with the stranger escaped us. When the Major handed him the papers, and the stranger retired, I jumped at his throat, and, with Bowline's help, took the papers from him—"
"Where are these papers?" the Count interrupted him eagerly.
"I will give them to you, Captain."
"Thanks, Michael; now go on."
"Well, my story's finished; I gagged him to prevent him calling out, and after tying him up like a plug of tobacco to stop him running after us, I left him there and went away."
"What, you went away, Michael, leaving the man thus gagged and bound on a desert isle?"
"What would you have had me do with him, Captain?"
"Oh, perhaps it would have been better to kill him, than leave him exposed to such a horrible punishment."
"He had been so precious tender to you, hadn't he, Captain? Stuff! Pity for such a ferocious brute would be madness on your part; besides, the fiend always protects his creatures, you may be sure, and I am certain that he has escaped."
"How so?"
"Hang it, he didn't swim off to Saint Honorat; his people were probably concealed somewhere: tired of not seeing him return, they will have set out to seek him, and picked him up where I put him to bed; he will probably have got off with gnawing the bit for two or three hours."
"Well, that is possible, Michael, and even probable. Where are you taking us?"
"Zounds, you are the commander here, Captain; we will go wherever you please."
"I will tell you, but first let us land the Major, for I fancy he wishes to be free of our company as much as we do of his."
At this moment Bowline's voice was heard.
"Hilloh, Michael," he shouted, "we have a large vessel to windward."
"Confusion!" said the sailor, "Has she hoisted her colours?"
"Yes; she is a Norwegian."
"That will be a good opportunity for you, Major," said the Count.
"Eh, helmsman," Michael shouted, without awaiting the Major's answer, "steer down to the Norwegian."
The Major considered it useless to protest.
Two hours later the vessels were within speaking distance: the stranger was bound for Helsingfors, and the captain consented to take the passenger offered him.
The Major was consequently transported on board, with everything belonging to him.
"Now, Captain," said Michael, when the boat had returned, "where shall we steer?"
"Let us go to the islands," the Count answered sadly, "henceforth we shall only find a shelter there and taking a last glance at the coast of France, whose outline was beginning to fade away in the distant horizon," he muttered, with a sigh, and concealing his face sorrowfully in his hands, "Farewell, France!"
In these two words was exhaled the last human feeling that remained at the bottom of the heart of this man who had been so tried by adversity, and who, vanquished by despair, was going to ask of the new world the vengeance which the old world so obstinately refused him.
The seventeenth century was a period of transition between the middle ages, that were exhaling their last sigh, and the modern era, which the great thinkers of the eighteenth century were destined to constitute so splendidly.
Under the repeated blows of the implacable Cardinal de Richelieu, that gloomy filler of the unity of the despotic power of kings, an immense reaction had been effected in ideas. It was a silent reaction, that from the outset sapped the minister's work, and he was far from suspecting its causes or power. It was more especially in the latter half of the seventeenth century that the world offered a strange spectacle.
At that period, the Spaniards, who were possessors, by the right of force, of the greater part of America, where they had multiplied colonies, were masters of the sea which the celebrated "broom of Holland" had not yet swept. The English navy was only beginning to be formed, and, in spite of the continuous efforts of Richelieu, the French navy was not in existence.
Suddenly several adventurers sprang up, no one knew whence, who, alone, castaways of civilization, men of all classes, from the highest to the most humble, belonging to all nations, but chiefly to the French, perched themselves like vultures on an imperceptible islet in the Atlantic, and undertook to contend against the Spanish power, after declaring a merciless war on their private authority. Attacking the Spanish fleet with unheard-of audacity, and, like a gadfly fastened to a lion's flank, holding in check the Spanish Colossus, they compelled it to treat with them on equal terms, with no other help but their courage and their energetic will.
In a few years their incredible exploits and audacious coups de main inspired the Spaniards with such terror, and acquired for themselves such a great and merited reputation, that the disinherited of fortune, the seekers of adventures, flocked from all parts of the world to the island that served them as a refuge, and their number was so enormously augmented, that they almost succeeded in forming themselves into a nationality by the sole force of their will, and their boldness. Let us say in a few words, who these men were, and what was the origin of their strange fortune.
For this purpose we must return to the Spaniards.
The latter, after their immense discoveries in the New World, had obtained from Pope Alexander VI. a bull which conceded to them the exclusive possession of the two Americas.
Supported by this bull, and considering themselves the sole owners of the New World, the Spaniards tried to keep all other nations away from it, and began to treat as corsairs all the vessels they came across between the two tropics.
Their maritime power, and the important part they played at that time on the American continent did not leave the governments the power of protesting, as they would have desired, against this odious tyranny.
Then it happened that English and French outfitters, excited by the thirst of gain, and paying no heed to the Spanish pretensions, equipped vessels which they dispatched to the so-coveted rich regions, to cut off the Spanish transports, plunder the American coast, and fire the town.
Treated as pirates, these bold sailors frankly accepted the position offered them, committed awful excesses wherever they landed, carried off rich spoil, and despising the law of nations, and not caring whether the Spaniards were at war or not with the countries to which they belonged, they attacked them wherever they met them.
The Spaniards, entirely engaged with rich possessions in Mexico, Peru, and generally on the Continent, which were mines of inexhaustible wealth for them, had committed the fault of neglecting the Antilles, which stretch from the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of Maracaibo, and only established colonies in the four large islands of that archipelago.
Hidden in bays behind the windings of the coast, the adventurers dashed suddenly at the Spanish vessels, carried them by boarding, and then returned ashore to share the plunder.
The Spaniards, in spite of the great number of their vessels, and the active watch they kept up, could no longer traverse the Caribbean Sea, which the adventurers had selected as the scene of their exploits, without running the risk of obstinate engagements with men, whom the smallness and lightness of their vessels rendered almost intangible.
This wandering life possessed such charms for the adventurers, who had assumed the characteristic name of filibusters or freebooters, that for a long time the idea did not occur to them of forming a permanent settlement among the islands, which they employed as a temporary retreat.
Things were in this state when, in 1625, a cadet of Normandy, of the name of d'Esnambuc, to whom the law of entail left no hope of fortune, except what he could acquire by his industry or courage, fitted out at Dieppe a brigantine of about seventy tons, on board which he placed four guns and forty resolute men, and set out to chase the Spaniards and try to enrich himself by some good prize.
On arriving at the Caymans, small islands situated between Cuba and Jamaica, he suddenly came across the track of a Spanish vessel bearing thirty-five guns and a crew of three hundred and fifty men; it was a critical situation for the corsair.
D'Esnambuc, without giving the Spaniards time to look about them, steered down and attacked them. The action lasted for three hours with extraordinary obstinacy; the Dieppois defended themselves so well, that the Spaniards despairing of conquest and having lost one-half their crew, were the first to decline fighting, and shamefully fled from the small vessel.
Still, the latter had suffered severely, and could be hardly kept above water, ten men had been killed, and the rest of the crew, being covered with wounds, were not worth much more.
As the isle of Saint Kitts was no great distance off, d'Esnambuc reached it with much difficulty, and took refuge there to careen his vessel, and cure his wounded. Then calculating, that, for the success of his future expeditions, he required a sure retreat, he resolved to establish himself on this island.
St. Kitts, which the Caribs called Liamuiga, is situated in 17 to 18 degrees N. latitude and 65 W. longitude. It is 23 leagues W.N.W. of Antigua, and about 3 leagues to the N.W. of Guadeloupe, and is one of the Caribbean Islands.
The general aspect of this island is remarkably beautiful, it is commanded by Mount Misery, an extinct volcano, three thousand five hundred feet high, which occupies the whole northwest part, and gradually descends in lower ranges, till it dies away on the South in the plains of the Basse terre.
The barrenness of the mountains forms a striking contrast with the fertility of the plains.
The valleys display a really extraordinary wealth of vegetation, while the mountains only offer to the eye a confused chaos of broken rocks, whose interstices are filled up with a clayey matter that checks all vegetation.
Water is rare, and of a bad quality, for the few streams that descend from Mount Misery are strongly impregnated with saline particles, to which strangers find a difficulty in growing accustomed.
But a precious thing for the filibusters, Saint Kitts possesses two magnificent ports, well sheltered and easy of defence, and its coasts are serrated with deep bays, where, in case of danger, their light vessels would easily find a shelter.
D'Esnambuc, on landing, found several refugee Frenchmen who lived on good terms with the Caribs, and who not only received him with open arms, but joined him and selected him as their leader.
By a singular chance, on the same day that the Dieppois landed at St. Kitts, English freebooters commanded by Captain Warner, who had also suffered in an engagement with the Spaniards, took refuge at another point in it.
The corsairs of the two nations who could not be separated by any idea of conquest, agriculture, or commerce, and who pursued the same object, fighting the Spaniards, and establishing a refuge against the common enemy, easily came to an understanding; then, after dividing the island, they settled down side by side, and lived for a long time on excellent terms, which nothing disturbed.
On one occasion they even combined their arms against the Caribs, who, alarmed by the progress of their new settlement, attempted to expel them.
The filibusters made a horrible carnage among the Indians, and forced them to implore for mercy.
A few months after, Warner and d'Esnambuc put out to sea again; the latter proceeded to Paris, the former to London, each for the purpose of soliciting the protection of his government for the rising colony.
As usual, these men, who at the beginning had only sought a temporary refuge, now felt a desire to see the development of a settlement founded by themselves, and which in a short time had assumed a real importance.
Cardinal de Richelieu, ever disposed to favour projects tending to augment the foreign power of France, received the filibuster with the greatest distinction, entered into his views, and formed a company, called "The Company of the Islands," in order to promote the interests of the colony.
The capital was 45,000 livres, of which Richelieu subscribed for his part 10,000.
D'Esnambuc was invested with the supreme command.
Among the claims stipulated in his commission there is one which we must quote, owing to its strangeness, for it imposed on white men in America a temporary slavery harsher even than that of the Negro.
This is the clause, whose sinister consequences we shall see developed during the course of this story.
"No labourer intended for the colony will be allowed to embark, unless he engages to remain for three years in the service of the company, which will have the right to employ him on any task it thinks proper, without granting him the right to complain or break the contract entered into by him."
These labourers were called Engagés or "thirty-six monthers," a polite way of getting rid of the word slave.
Captain Warner, who had been more highly favoured, returned with a large body of colonists. Still the good understanding was kept up for some time between the two nations; but the English took advantage of the weakness of the French, who could not oppose their usurpations, to encroach on their rights, and formed a fresh settlement at Nevis, the next island to St. Kitts.
Still d'Esnambuc did not despair of the fate of the colony. He proceeded again to France, and solicited of the Cardinal help in men and money, to repulse the undertakings of his troublesome neighbours.
Richelieu granted his request.
By his orders, Rear Admiral de Cussac arrived at St. Kitts, with six heavily armed ships; he surprised ten English vessels in the roads, captured three, sank three others, and put the rest to flight.
The English made no further attempts to leave their boundaries, and peace was re-established.
M. de Cussac, after supplying the colony with rum and provisions, set sail, and went to found a settlement on St. Eustache, an island four leagues N. W. of St. Kitts.
The Spaniards, however, who, since the appearance of the filibusters in American waters, had suffered so greatly from their depredations, saw them with great alarm settling permanently on the West India islands.
They understood of what importance it was to them not to allow fixed settlements in these regions, unless they wished to see their colonies destroyed and their commerce ruined.
They consequently resolved to act vigorously against those fellows whom they regarded as pirates, and to utterly destroy their lurking places, which had already acquired formidable proportions.
In consequence Admiral don Fernando de Toledo, whom the court of Madrid had placed at the head of a powerful fleet, sent in 1630 to Brazil to fight the Dutch, received orders to destroy in passing, the viper's nest formed by the filibusters at St. Kitts.
The sudden apparition of this immense force off the island filled the inhabitants with stupor. The united resources of the English and French adventurers and their desperate courage were not sufficient to avert the danger that menaced them, and repulse so formidable an attack.
After a desperate fight, in which a great number of filibusters, especially Frenchmen, were killed, the others got into their light canoes and fled to the adjacent isles of St. Bartholomew, Antigua, St. Martin, and Montserrat, or to any place in short where they hoped to find a temporary refuge.
The English, we are unfortunately compelled to state, shamefully fled at the beginning of the action, and eventually asked leave to capitulate.
One half of them were sent to England on board Spanish ships, while the rest engaged to evacuate the island as soon as possible,—a promise which was forgotten immediately after the departure of the Spanish fleet.
This expedition was the only one that Spain seriously attempted against the filibusters.
The French soon left the islands where they had sought refuge, and returned to St. Kitts, where they re-established themselves, though not without a quarrel with the English, who had taken advantage of the opportunity to seize their land, but whom they forced again beyond their old borders.
It is a singular fact, which proves that the filibusters were not bandits and nameless men, as attempts have been made to brand them, that the inhabitants of St. Kitts were remarkable beyond all the other colonists for the gentleness and urbanity of their manners; the traditions of politeness left by the first Frenchmen who settled there, have been maintained even to the present day; in the eighteenth century it was called the Gentle Island, and there is a proverb in the Antilles to the effect, that "the nobility were at St. Kitts, the citizens at Guadeloupe, the soldiers at Martinique, and the peasants at Grenada."
Things remained for a long time in the state we have just described; the filibusters, growing bolder and bolder through the Spanish cowardice, enlarged the scene of their exploits, and retaining a bitter memory of the sack of their island, felt a double hatred for the Spaniards, who had branded them with the name of Ladrones (robbers). They no longer displayed any moderation, and seated in the light canoes that composed their entire fleet, they watched for the rich transports from Mexico, dashed boldly aboard them, carried them, and returned to St. Kitts loaded with plunder.
The colony prospered, the land was well cultivated, and the plantations were carefully made.
For these men, the majority of whom had no hope left of ever returning to their native land, had performed their work with the feverish ardor of people who are creating for themselves a new nationality and preparing a last asylum, so that only a few years after the destruction of the colony by the Spaniards, St. Kitts had again become a flourishing colony, thanks in the first instance to its fertility and the energy and intelligence of its inhabitants, but above all to the incessant toil of the engagés of the company.
We have now to explain what these poor fellows were and the fate they met with at the hands of the colonists.
We have already stated that the company sent to the islands, men whom they had engaged for three years.
They accepted anybody, workmen belonging to all trades, even surgeons who, persuading themselves that they were destined to carry on their own profession in the colonies, allowed themselves to be seduced by the fair promises which the company did not hesitate to lavish.
But once their consent was given, that is to say, signed, the company regarded them as men belonging to it body and soul; and when they reached the colonies, agentssoldthen for three years to the planters, at the rate of thirty or forty crowns a head, and did so in the broad daylight and in the governor's presence.
They thus became real slaves, subject to the adventurers of the colony, and condemned to the rudest tasks.
Hence, the poor wretches, so unworthily abused, beaten terribly and worn out by a fatigue under a deadly climate, generally succumbed ere they had attained the third year, which was to set them at liberty.
This was carried so far that the masters at last attempted to prolong the stipulated slavery beyond three years. Toward the end of 1632, the colony of St. Kitts incurred great dangers, for the engagés whose time was up and whom their masters refused liberty, took up arms, organized a resistance, and prepared to attack the colonists with that energy of desperation which no force can resist. M. d'Esnambuc only succeeded in making them lay down their arms and arrest bloodshed by conceding their just demands.
At a later date, when the sad condition in which the company's agents placed the engagés, became known in France, it became almost impossible for the latter to find volunteers; hence they were obliged to go about the roads and highways to enlist vagabonds whom they intoxicated and induced to sign, while in that condition, an engagement which it was impossible to break.
We will dwell the more earnestly on this point, because during the course of our narrative, we shall have frequently to revert to the engagés. We will only add one word about the wretches whom England sent to the colonies under the same conditions.
If the fate of the French engagés was frightful, that of the English, history proves to us, was horrible.
They were treated with the most atrocious barbarity. They formed an engagement for seven years, and then, at the end of that time, when the moment to regain their liberty had at length arrived, they were intoxicated, and advantage was taken of their condition to make them sign a second engagement for the same period.
Cromwell, after the sack of Drogheda, sold more than 30,000 Irish for Jamaica and Barbados.
Nearly two thousand of these wretched succeeded in escaping on board a vessel, which, in their ignorance of navigation, they allowed to drift and the current cast it ashore at Saint Domingo. The poor fellows, not knowing where they were, and being without food or resources, all died of hunger. Their piled-up bones, bleached by time, remained for several years on Cape Tiburón, at a spot which was called Irish Bay on account of the terrible catastrophe, and still bears the name.
The reader will pardon us for having entered into such lengthened details about the establishment of the filibusters of St. Kitts; but as it was on this little island that the terrible association of adventurers, whose history we have undertaken to tell, had its birth, it is necessary to make the reader fully acquainted with these facts, so that we might not be obliged to return to them hereafter. Now, we will resume our narrative to which the preceding chapters serve, so to speak, as a prologue, and leaping at one bound across the space that separates Sainte Marguerite from the Caribbean islands, we will proceed to St. Kitts a few months after the escape, for we dare not say the liberation, of Count Ludovic de Barmont Senectaire.
Several years elapsed without producing any notable changes in the colony.
The adventurers still continued, with the same obstinacy, their expeditions against the Spaniards; but as their expeditions were isolated, and had no sort of organization, the losses experienced by the Spaniards, though very great, were much less considerable than might be anticipated.
About this time, a lugger manned by forty resolute men, and armed with four iron guns, anchored off St. Kitts, proudly displaying the French flag at its stern.
This vessel brought to the colony a fresh contingent of brave adventurers.
Immediately after their arrival, they landed, formed the acquaintance of the inhabitants, and testified a desire to settle on the island.
The chief, to whom his comrades gave the name of Montbarts, and for whom they appeared to have an unbounded devotion, informed the colonists, that like them, he professed a profound hatred for the Spaniards, and that he was followed by two ships of that nation, which he had captured, and had given the prize masters orders to steer for St. Kitts.
These good men were received with shouts of joy by the inhabitants, and Montbarts had a narrow escape from being carried in triumph.
As he had announced, three or four days later two Spanish vessels anchored at St. Kitts. They bore at their stern the Castilian flag reversed, in sign of humiliation, while above it proudly fluttered the French ensign.
There was one horrible circumstance, however, which chilled even the bravest with horror. These vessels bore at their bowsprit, and at their cross-jack, as well as at the main and foreyard, groups of corpses. By Montbarts order, the crews of the two vessels had been hung, without showing mercy even to a boy.
The chief of the adventurers generously gave the cargo of the two ships to the colonists, only asking for sufficient land in return, on which to build a house.
This request was at once granted; the newcomers then disarmed their lugger, came ashore, and began their installation.
Montbarts was a young man of about seven or eight-and-twenty, with manly and marked features, and a fixed and piercing eye. The expression of his face was essentially sad, mocking, and cruel: a dead pallor; spread over his face, added, were it possible, a strangeness to his whole person. Tall and powerfully built, though supple and graceful, his gestures were elegant and noble, while his speech was soft, and the terms he employed were carefully chosen. He exercised a singular fascination over those who approached him, or whom accident brought into relation with him. They felt at once repulsed and attracted by this singular man, who seemed the only one of his species on the earth, and who, without appearing to be anxious for it, imposed his will upon all, gained obedience by a sign or a frown, and who only seemed to live when he was in the thick of a fight, when fires crossed above his head, forming him an aureole of flame, when corpses were piled up around him, when blood flowed beneath his feet, and when bullets whistled in his ears, and when he rushed drunk with powder and carnage upon the deck of a Spanish ship.
Such was what was said of him by his comrades, and by those who had been struck by his singular countenance, and wished to know him: but beyond this moral and physical portrait of the man, it was impossible to obtain the slightest information as to his past life. Not one of the sailors who came with him knew the slightest episode of it, or, as was probable, refused to discover anything.
Hence, when the colonists perceived that all their questions would remain unanswered, they gave up the useless task of asking them. They accepted Montbarts for what it pleased him to be, the more so, as his, former life not only did not concern them, but also interested them very slightly.
The adventurer only remained ashore for the period strictly necessary to establish his household comfortably; then, one day, without warning anybody, he went on board his lugger with the crew he had brought with him, only leaving five or six men at St. Kitts to manage his plantation, and set sail. A month after, he returned, having in tow a richly laden Spanish vessel, with the crew hanging to the yards as before.
Montbarts went on thus for a whole year, never remaining more than two or three days ashore, then going off, and returning with a prize with its entire crew suspended from the yards.
Matters attained such a pitch, the audacity of the daring corsair was crowned with such success, that the rumour of it reached France. Then, the Dieppe adventurers, comprehending all the profit they might derive from this interloping war, fitted out vessels, and went to join the colonists of St. Kitts, for the purpose of organising a hunt of the Spaniards, and carrying it out on a grand scale.
Filibusterism was about to enter on its second phase, and become a regular association.
Montbarts had built his hatto, or principal residence, at the spot where the English afterwards formed Sandy-point battery.
It was an excellently chosen position, militarily speaking, where, in case of attack, it was easy not only to act on the defensive, but also to repulse the enemy with serious loss.
This hatto, built of trunks of trees, and covered with palm leaves, stood nearly at the extremity of a cape, whence the greater part of the island and the sea for a considerable distance on the right and left could be commanded. This cape, which was nearly precipitous, and one hundred and fifty feet high seawards, could only be reached by a narrow, rough path, intersected at regular distances by strong palisades, and wide, deep ditches, which had to be crossed on planks, that were easy to remove. Two four-pounder guns, placed in position at the head of the path guarded the approaches.
This hatto was divided into four rather large rooms, furnished with a luxury and comfort rather singular in an out-of-the-way island like St. Kitts, but which was fully justified by the usual occupation of the owner, who merely required to take any furniture that suited him out of his prizes.
A long pole, serving as a flagstaff, planted in front of the door of the hatto, displayed in the breeze a white ensign with a red jack in the right hand top corner. This flag was that of the corsairs, which Montbarts sometimes changed for one all black, having in its centre a death's head and crossbones, all white. This was an ill-omened flag, which, when hoisted at the peak, signified that the conquered had no hope of mercy to expect.
It was a warm day towards the end of May, about eighteen months after Montbarts' arrival at St. Kitts. Several persons, stern looking and rough mannered, almost armed to the teeth, were conversing together as they followed the path that led from the plain to the platform on which Montbarts' hatto stood.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and the sky was transparent and clear. Thousands of stars sparkled in the heavens, the moon profusely shed her white light, and the atmosphere was so pellucid, that the smallest objects were visible at a long distance. There was not a breath in the air, or a rustle among the leaves; the sea, calm as a mirror, died away with a soft and mysterious murmur on the sandy beach; the fireflies buzzed noisily, and at times dashed against the pedestrians, who contented themselves with driving them away with their hands, without, on that account, interrupting a conversation which seemed greatly to interest them.
These men were five in number, and all in the prime of life. Their features were energetically marked, and their faces revealed audacity and resolution carried to the highest pitch. Their slightly curved shoulders, and the way in which they straddled their legs in walking, while swaying their arms, would have caused them to be recognised as sailors at the first glance, had not their dress sufficiently proved the fact.
They were talking in English.
"Stuff!" one of them was saying at the moment when we join in their conversation; "We must see. All that glistens is not gold, as they say down there. Besides, I wish for nothing better than to be mistaken, after all."