ABOARD LE DAUPHIN.
The morning dawned moist and cold, with a stiff westerly wind. Just
before daylight a small boat pushed off the low beach, scraped along
the shallows, skirted the western edge of the island which there lies
endwise across the harbor, and put me aboard le Dauphin.
I alone had no part in all the noisy preparation for departure, but sat
absorbed in thought near an open port listening to the straining of the
masts, the flapping sails, the low complaining beat of the
wind-tormented waters.
Above the creak of the windlass raising anchor, I could catch snatches
of whispered conversation just outside the port. The two men were
beyond my range of vision. One seemed to be tossing in a boat, the
other hung down the vessel's side by a ladder. I made out,
disjointedly:
"Along in September--as soon as you return--all will be in
readiness--two thousand Creeks, Chickasaws, Natchez--we ought to have
no difficulty--Yvard--Spanish ships. The fall of Biloxi will be a
great thing for us." And much more that I could not hear clearly.
But I had heard enough to know there was some truth in the rumor of a
Spanish-Indian alliance, and an attack on Biloxi. And the name Yvard,
being unusual, clung somewhat to my memory.
I immediately ran on deck and sauntered over towards that side, seeking
to discover the traitor. No one was there, only a little group of
officers walking about; towards the shore were the retreating outlines
of a light boat. I knew none of these officers, any one of whom might
have been the man I overheard, and so I durst ask no questions. I
could therefore confide in no one on board for fear of making a
mistake, but must rely upon giving Bienville prompt warning upon my
return, and I must needs hide my reluctance and mingle with officers
and men, for perchance by this means I might uncover the scoundrel.
Although I made free with the men, pitched quoits, and joined in their
rough play, I trusted none, suspected all. No, not all. There were
two young fellows whom I was many times on the point of calling to my
confidence, but, thinking it wiser, kept my own counsel. Treason could
ever wear a smiling front and air of frankness.
Levert was a man much older than myself, of gloomy and taciturn
manners, yet something there was so masterful about him men obeyed him
whether they would or no. A more silent man I never knew, yet
courteous and stately withal, and well liked by the men. But it was to
Achille Broussard my heart went out in those days of loneliness. His
almost childish lightness of disposition and his friendly ways won me
completely, and we became fast comrades. A noble looking lad, with the
strength of a young Titan, and the blonde curls of a woman. During the
long idle hours of the afternoon it was his custom to banter me for a
bout at swords, and Levert generally acted as our master of the lists.
At first he was much my superior with the foils, for during his days
with the Embassy at Madrid, and in the schools at Paris, he had learned
those hundreds of showy and fancy little tricks of which we in the
forests knew nothing. However, I doubted not that on the field our
rougher ways and sterner methods would count for quite as much.
With all the five long weeks of daily practice, I gathered many things
from him, until one day we had an experience which made us lay the
foils aside for good.
We had been sitting after the dinner hour, discussing his early life in
Paris. He wound up with his usual declaration, "As for myself, give me
the gorgeous plays, the fetes and smiles of the Montespan, rather than
the prayers, the masses and the sober gowns of de Maintenon. And now
it is your turn, comrade; let us know something of your escapades, your
days of folly in dear old Paris."
"I have never seen Paris," I answered simply.
"What! Never been to Paris? Then, man, you have never lived. But
where have you spent all your days?"
"In the colonies--Quebec, Montreal, Biloxi. But now I will have an
opportunity, for I am going--"
I had almost told something of my mission, ere I checked a too fluent
confidence.
Levert, who had been pacing up and down the deck in his absorbed and
inattentive way, dropped his blade across my shoulder and challenged me
to the foils.
"No, it is too early yet," Achille replied, "besides, we were talking
of other things. As you were saying, comrade, you go--?"
"Oh, you two talk too much," Levert broke in again, "let us have a
bout; I'm half a mind I can handle a foil myself. A still tongue, a
clear head and a sharp blade are the tools of Fortune."
It seemed almost that he had twice interrupted purposely to keep me
from talking. I thought I read that deeper meaning in his eyes.
Somehow I grew to distrust him from that moment. What consequence was
it to him of what I spoke?
It was not Levert's business to govern my tongue for roe, so I only
said:
"Nay, we'll try our skill somewhat later; not now," and resumed my
conversation with Achille.
While his manner showed a concern I deemed the matter little to
warrant, yet it did make me consider, so I determined not to speak
truly of myself.
"Well, now, comrade, of your own intrigues. You were saying--?"
"Nay, nothing of that kind. I journey to Paris simply for my own
pleasure." Levert, who half listened at a distance knew I was going to
heed his advice, though I misdoubted his motive, and again took up his
pacing to and fro.
"Aye, my dear Captain, but 'tis a long trip for such an errand?"
"Yes, quite a long trip, but I weary of the life at Biloxi, and would
amuse myself for a while in France."
"But the garrison at Biloxi; is that strong enough to spare so good a
soldier? then the Indians, do you not fear them?"
I glanced at him quickly, only half betraying my thought, but replied
nonchalantly:
"No, the Indians are quiet, at least so our scouts tell us, and as for
the state of the garrison, you were long enough ashore to know we are
strong."
"Ah, then, there is another motive; a woman. Come, is it not true?
Confess?"
I blushed in spite of myself; it was an idle way I had, for I had seen
little of women. My confusion threw him completely off the track; had
I only guessed it, would have taken refuge in that device sooner.
"No, no, comrade; you are wrong"--but still somehow my color came and
went like a novice out of the convent. His good-humored raillery
continued until I became annoyed in earnest, yet was glad he took the
matter so seriously. When Levert passed us again on his walk I spoke
to him.
"Now, my dear Levert, we will try our fortune with the foils if it
pleases you."
"No, my humor is past. Do you try with Broussard; methinks he had
rather the better of you yesterday. You agree, Broussard?"
"Yes, yes," he replied, eagerly, "let us at it."
He fenced rather worse than usual, so I had no trouble in touching him
as I pleased. This begat an irritation of manner, and noticing it I
suggested we leave off.
He would not hear to it; I saw the color slowly leave his face; his
thin lips curled back and showed his teeth, until, fearing a serious
outbreak, I stepped back as if I would lay aside the foil. He pressed
me close, so close indeed I could not if I would drop my guard. He
touched me once or twice.
"I call the bout a draw," declared Levert, who had himself observed
Broussard's unusual energy.
"Nay, not so, not so; he gives back. I've much the better," and he
lunged at me so vigorously I was forced to act with more aggression.
The button snapped from the point of his foil; I cared not, and he
affected not to see it, though something made me sure he realized his
advantage. I determined now to show him a trick of my own.
From my youth I had the peculiar faculty of using one hand quite as
well as the other, and had often practiced changing my sword swiftly
from right to left. It was a simple feat, much more showy than
difficult, yet exceedingly bewildering to an adversary. In this
instance it afforded me an easy means of reaching his undefended side.
So I feigned to be driven back, and watching for a more headlong and
careless rush, my weapon was apparently twisted from my hand and for an
instant seemed to hang suspended in the air. I caught it in my left
and before he recovered his footing had thrown his foil from him,
sending it whizzing overboard. It took but an instant to press my
point firmly against his chest, as he stood panting and disarmed.
Never was man more surprised.
"Bravely done," cried Levert.
"A most foul and dishonorable trick," Achille snarled.
"Not so," Levert corrected him gravely, looking at me to observe the
effect of the insult. I stood still at guard, but made no move.
"Broussard, you are angry now, and I'll take no heed of your heated
words. But to-morrow you must make a gentleman's amends."
"Tush, tush," Levert interposed, "'tis the quarrel of a child. He
means nothing."
Broussard said no more, but looked surly and ill pleased. I was
secretly elated at the success of my coup against such a skilled
swordsman, and only remarked quietly:
"Broussard, when your anger has passed I trust you will do me the honor
of an apology."
Behind it all I cared little, for I felt myself his master with his
chosen weapon and could afford to be generous. He came up in very
manly fashion, after a time, and craved my forgiveness, but we played
at foils no more.
The lookouts were beginning to watch for land, I growing more and more
impatient as the end of our voyage drew near. And now I had much
leisure to contemplate, and wonder at the strange turn of fortune which
had called upon me to play a part in the affairs of state, though what
the drama was, and what my lines might be, I could only guess. The
story of Colonel D'Ortez, too, furnished me much food for reflection
these long starlit nights, when I sat in my favorite seat in the very
prow of the vessel. There would I sit night after night, watching the
phosphorescent waves rippling against the vessel, gleaming fitful in
the gloom; there observe the steadfast stars, and seem alone with
darkness and with God.
One wet morning, pacing the slippery deck, the sailing master called to
me:
"See, sir, yonder dim outline to the nor'east? 'Tis the Norman coast;
this night, God willing, we sleep in Dieppe."
My errand now consumed my entire attention, so I thought no more of my
companions of the voyage, bidding them both good-night before we had
yet landed.