One day, I received a letter which called me to his assistance.
It was very simple, very much like a letter from a child:
"MY DEAR BROTHER,--I do not know how to tell you, but it is true, I have
taken to drink again. Also I do not want to remain in Brest, as you will
understand, for I am afraid of this thing.
"I have already been punished three times with irons in the Reserve, and
now I do not know how to get away from the ship, for I realize that if I
remain on board some misfortune will happen to me.
"But it seems to me that if I could embark once more with you, that
would be exactly what I need. My dear brother, since you will soon be
going away again, if you would come to Brest and take me with you, it
would be much better for me than here, and I feel sure that that would
save me.
"You have done me a great wrong in saying in your letter that I did not
love my wife or my son; because for her and little Pierre there is
nothing I would not do.
"Yes, my dear brother, I have wept and I am weeping now as I write, and
I cannot see for the tears that are in my eyes.
"I only hope that you will be able to come. I embrace you with all my
heart, and beg you not to forget your brother, in spite of all the
disappointments he has caused you.
"Ever yours,
"YVES KERMADEC."