_A Letter from Yves_
"MELBOURNE, _September_, 1882.
"DEAR BROTHER,--I write to let you know we have reached Australia; we
have had a very fine voyage and to-morrow we are to leave for Japan;
for, you know, we have had instructions to pay a visit to that country.
"I found here two letters from you and two also from my wife; but I am
looking forward to the one you will write me when you have been to
Toulven.
"Dear brother, your successor on board is just like you; he is very
considerate with the sailors. As regards Mr. Plunkett's successor, he is
rather severe, but not with me; on the contrary. Mr. Plunkett told me he
would recommend me to him when he left and I think he must have done so.
The others and the second-in-command are still the same; they often
speak to me of you and ask me for news of you.
"The captain has called upon me to act as boatswain since we buried poor
Marsano, of Nice, who was found dead one morning in his hammock at the
réveillé. And I like the work very much.
"Dear brother, the men have twice been allowed to go ashore, at San
Francisco, and you will be glad to know that, with you away, I have not
even given in my name to go with them. As a matter of fact, on the
second night, the topmen had a great row with some Germans, and knives
were used.
"I have also to tell you, dear brother, that your name has not yet been
removed from above the door of your room, and I think it must have been
quite forgotten. And in the evening I make my way along the spar-deck
for the pleasure of seeing it.
"Next year, when we return, I hope I may have a long leave to go and see
my wife and my little Pierre and my little daughter; but it will be all
too short in any case, and I shall never have any real leisure until I
get my pension. On the other hand, when I am old enough to put aside the
blue collar, my little Pierre will be thinking of going to sea himself
in his turn; or perhaps there will be a place for me a little farther
away, in the direction of the pond, near the church; you know what place
I mean.
"Dear brother, you think I am taking my note from you? But no, I think
as I have always thought.
"As for the 'coco-nut heads'[6] I fear I must give up all idea of them,
for we shall not touch Caledonia; but perhaps, later on, I may be able
to return and buy some. If you should pass by the Gulf of Juan, you
would give me great pleasure if you would go to Vallauris and obtain for
me two of those candlesticks which they make there, and which have owls'
heads on them (the _parrots of France_, you know). I should like very
much to have some in my home. I am very eager, brother, to furnish my
little house.
"Among the many things which make me sad when I awaken in the morning,
that which grieves me most is the thought that my mother cannot be
persuaded to come and live at Toulven. It seems to me that if I could
get leave and go to see her, I should certainly be able to induce her to
come. But, against this, I should then have no one belonging to me at
Plouherzel; and that again is a thing I cannot bear to contemplate; for
after all Plouherzel is our home, you know. If I could believe what you
have often told me on the subject of a life after death, then,
assuredly, I could still be contented enough. But it seems to me that
you yourself do not believe very much in it. Funnily enough, though, I
am afraid of ghosts, and I rather think, brother, that you are afraid of
them, too.
"I ask you to forgive these dirty sheets I am sending you, but it is not
altogether my fault that they are in this condition. As you know I no
longer have your desk now to write my letters on like an officer. I was
writing to you peacefully enough at the end of my night watch on the
lockers in the bow, when the idiot Le Hir came and knocked over my
candle. I have not time to copy out my letter neatly as sometimes I do,
in the way you have praised. I am writing hurriedly and I ask you to
forgive the hasty scrawl.
"We are leaving at daybreak to-morrow for Japan; but I will send my
letter by the pilot who is coming to take us out.
"Your affectionate brother,
"YVES KERMADEC.
"Dear brother, I cannot tell you how much I love you."
[Footnote 6: Very ugly human heads made by the convicts in Caledonia out
of coco-nuts, in which they fix eyes and teeth and hair. Yves wanted
them for his staircase at Toulven.]