Sunday, a day of great "boozing" in Brest.
_Ten o'clock._ A calm night, with a moonlit, tranquil sea; on board the
Médée the sailors have finished singing their endless songs and
silence has supervened.
Since the fall of darkness my eyes have been turned in the direction of
the lights of the town. I am awaiting with uneasiness the return of the
cutter of which Yves is in charge: it went ashore and has not returned.
At last I see its red light approaching, two hours late!
The sea is sonorous at night; in the distance I can hear cries mingling
with the sound of the oars; strange things seem to be happening in the
cutter.
She has scarcely come alongside when three drunken petty officers, in a
state of fury, hasten on board and demand of me the head of Yves:
"He must be put in irons straightway; he must be tried and shot
afterwards, for he has struck his superior officers."
Yves was standing there, trembling from the conflict in which just now
he was engaged. These three petty officers have fought with him, or at
any rate have tried to make him fight.
"They wanted to put me in the wrong!" he said disdainfully; and he swore
that he had not returned the blows of the three men; for that matter he
could have knocked all three of them over with his open hand. No; he let
them lay hold of him and pull him about; they scratched his face and
tore his clothes into ribbons, because he refused to allow them to take
charge of the cutter, drunk as they were.
All the crew of the cutter were drunk also, by the fault of Yves, who
had allowed them to drink.
And the three petty officers remained standing there, quite near him,
continuing to shout, to revile, to threaten, three old drunkards,
grotesque in their stuttering fury, very ridiculous if discipline, that
implacable thing, had not been on their side to make the scene terribly
grave.
Yves, upright, his fists clenched, his hair over his forehead, his shirt
torn, his chest all bare, tried almost beyond endurance by these
insults, itching to strike, appealed to me with his eyes, in his
distress.
Oh! discipline, discipline! There are times when it is harsh indeed. I
am the officer of the watch and it is contrary to all rules that I
should interfere except to speak non-committal words, and to hand them
all over to the justice of the ship's police.
Contrary to all rules, however, I leap down from the bridge and throw
myself on Yves--it was none too soon!--I pass my arms round his arms,
and thus restrain him at the very moment when he is about to strike.
And I fix my eyes on the others, who then, in the presence of this turn
in the situation, beat a retreat in the manner of dogs before their
master.
Happily it is dark--and there are no witnesses. Only the cutter's crew
and they are drunk--and, moreover, I am sure of them: they are good
fellows all and if it is necessary to go before a courtmartial, they
will not bear witness against us.
Then I take Yves by the shoulders and passing in front of his three
enemies, who fall back to let us pass, I lead him to my room and lock
him in. There for the moment he is safe.
I am summoned before the Commander who has been awakened by the noise.
Unfortunately I have to explain the matter to him.
And I explain, extenuating as much as possible the fault of my poor
Yves. I explain; and then, for some mortal minutes, I beg; I believe
that never in my life had I begged before, it seems to me that it is no
longer I who am speaking. And all I can say and all I can do breaks down
against the cold logic of this man who holds in his hands the very
existence of Yves, which has been entrusted to me.
I have, however, succeeded in removing the gravest of the matters, the
question of striking a superior officer; but the insults remain and the
refusal to obey. Yves has done these things: in substance, the charges
are unfair and revolting; in the letter, they are true.
He is ordered to be put in irons at once, to begin with, and to be sent
below under guard, on account of the disturbance and scandal.
Poor Yves! An unrelenting fatality has pursued him, for, this time, he
was not really culpable. And this misfortune came upon him at the very
time when he was becoming steadier, when he was making great efforts to
give up drinking and behave himself.