THE VOYAGE
It was three days since we had left France; the wind, until then
favourable, had become contrary ever since we sighted Sardinia.
Without being positively sure of being attacked by the mysterious ship
whose departure had been so sudden and so hostile, Falmouth had
recommended the captain of his yacht to be constantly upon his guard.
The carronades of the _Gazelle_ were loaded with grape-shot, the arms
prepared on the false deck, and at night a sailor remained on watch to
prevent any surprise.
I could not but admire the calmness and sweetness of the two young
officers of the schooner, their silent activity, and the feeling full of
tenderness which seemed to attach one to the other, and to put--if so it
may be called--in their most indifferent actions a touching union.
I remarked, also, that when the management required that Williams or
Geordy should give an order before Falmouth, their voices preserved a
respectful accent for the lord as long as they were obliged to give
orders in his presence. This shade seemed to me to be an exquisite tact,
or rather the expression of a very refined nature.
Geordy obeyed his elder brother Williams with a joyous submission.
Nothing could be more charming to observe than the mutual affection of
these two brothers, constantly exchanging looks as they attended to the
details of their service, with rare sagacity, or rather with marvellous
congeniality.
I had the curiosity to inspect the forward cabin which they occupied.
I saw there two hammocks as white as snow, a small table, and a
wash-stand shining like a mirror; two portraits, coarsely but naturally
painted,--the one, their mother, with a grave, sweet face (both
resembled her greatly), the other, their father, whose masculine and
open countenance showed good humour and loyalty. Between these two
portraits, and for ornament alone, their arms were fastened to the oaken
wainscoting of their little room.
Often when the schooner, well under way, ploughed its furrow of white
foam across the quiet waters of the Mediterranean, Williams and Geordy
would seat themselves side by side upon a gun, and there, with locked
arms, serious and pensive countenances, they piously read an old Bible
with brass fastenings, resting it upon their knees, and only
interrupting their reading to cast an occasional melancholy glance upon
the broad and solitary horizon,--a distraction which was an act of
homage to the greatness of God.
At other times, when this religious reading was finished, the two
brothers would fall into long talks.
One day I had the curiosity to overhear one of their conversations. I
seated myself near the cannon, where they usually sat, and, after
exchanging a few words with them, I pretended to be asleep.
I heard them then exchanging innocent confidences of their hopes,
recalling pleasant memories of their country, encouraging each other to
serve Falmouth well, this noble protector of their family, for whom they
showed this respectful, almost filial, attachment that is maintained
sometimes among us for several successive generations by followers of
the family (in the feudal acceptation of the word)[3] for the noble
houses which patronise them.
When the two brothers spoke of the lord, it was always without
irreverence, without envy, and, more than all, without any bitter and
jealous reflection upon their own obscure and poor condition.
Once they related some particulars in the life of Falmouth which struck
me with surprise. This man, whom I had believed so blasé as to all
human feelings, had a thousand times manifested the most generous
kindness, the most exquisite delicacy. Williams and Geordy spoke of it
with admiration.
In proportion as I lived more intimately with Henry, my surprise
increased.
Each day I discovered in him the noblest qualities, so opposite to the
fictitious or real character under which I had known him before. His
disposition was of a serenity without its equal; his penetration, his
ingenuity, prodigious; his mind of a rare dignity.
Soon, in our long conversations, I noticed that his irony became less
sharp, his observation less caustic, his scepticism less implacable; it
might be said that little by little he put off pieces of armour which he
recognised as useless.
It was with pleasure that I saw Falmouth's character so completely
transformed.
I felt touched by the cordial and touching persistency with which he
sought my friendship. I enjoyed eagerly this lively and sincere feeling,
whose consoling sweetness I experienced for the first time; no sacrifice
could be too great to assure myself of this precious affection in the
future, and as I experienced it generously, bravely, I felt worthy to
inspire it.
Pleased with my confidence, it was with a tone of deepest gratitude that
Falmouth thanked me for having believed in his friendship. In this way
passing our life, the one well supported by the other, he told me, all
one's troubles could be defied; for the deceits of love, of pride, of
ambition, always so painful because they are self-centred, would lose
all their bitterness by being poured out into the heart of a friend.
The accents of his voice were so true, his features had an expression of
such sincerity, that I had entirely forgotten my mistrust; I yielded
with happiness to the impulse of an affection which I had never known
before.
Then came the endless conversations, whose attractions I know not how to
describe. Falmouth's imagination was lively and brilliant, his wit well
embellished. We both possessed quite varied and extended knowledge; we
never for a moment felt wearied with one another, in spite of the long
hours of the voyage.
In proportion as our intimacy increased, my faith in myself and in
Falmouth increased. I felt happy and better, a new future opened before
me; I had plenty of courage not to subject this happiness, so fresh and
young, to a withering analysis. I gave myself up innocently to
impressions which I found so pure and so refreshing.
We had been at sea five days.
One evening, quite late, towards eleven o'clock, having left Falmouth in
the saloon, I ascended to the deck to enjoy the freshness of the night,
and seated myself in a yawl suspended in the stern of the schooner.
I had been some time absorbed in my dreams, when the sailor on watch
hailed an approaching ship.
I arose.
The watch hailed a second time.
Almost immediately I saw sailing silently towards us, and at a very
short distance from us, a ship, whose immense sails I recognised as
those of the Sardinian boat of the bay of Porquerolles.
The night was clear, the boat sailing rather fast; upon the deck of this
long, narrow ship a great number of men were crowding against one
another. From the mast was hung a ship's lantern. Lighted by its red,
uncertain reflection, I distinguished at the helm, and holding the
tiller, the man with the black cowl that I had already noticed during
the approach of the long-boat.
Strange encounter, the consequences of which were to be still more
strange!
The mystic withdrew; the noise of its track died away.
For a few minutes I could follow it with my eye, thanks to its white
sails; then they became less distinct, and, finally, altogether effaced,
until I could see only a luminous point in the darkness, which in time
disappeared with the play of the ship's sails, like a star under a
cloud.
Upon the appearance of this suspicious boat, Williams had ordered his
brother to look for Falmouth.
"Well, Williams," said the latter, mounting the bridge, "we are again
meeting our ugly acquaintance of Porquerolles!"
"The mystic has just passed athwart us, my lord."
"And what do you advise?"
"Save for the order of your Grace, my advice would be to put ourselves
at once on defence, for I think that this pirate, held like ourselves in
these quarters by the contrary winds, will attack us, not believing us
ready to receive it, and reckoning, moreover, upon the number of its
crew."
"Let us prove, then, to these pirates, that they are mistaken, my brave
Williams, and that forty John Bulls are worth more than this gang of
scoundrels, than this cosmopolitan specimen of gallows-game. Ah, well,"
added Falmouth, seeing me, "here, my friend, is something which works
admirably; this adventure delights me. It is an excellent introduction
to our frolic with Canaris; it is the overture of our opera!"
"In truth _dilettanti_" I replied, "let us prepare to do our part, and
seek for our arms."
I descended to my room.
Falmouth entered almost as soon as I.
Inasmuch as he had appeared to me pleased and resolute on deck, so now I
found him with an air sad and troubled.
He took my hands with emotion, and said: "Arthur, I am now in despair
with this folly!"
"Of what folly do you speak?"
"If you should be wounded, dangerously wounded," casting upon me an
affectionate glance, "I should never forgive myself."
"And do you not run the same risks?"
"Without doubt; but that you, you should suffer the consequences of my
mad freak,--it is that which I find horrible!"
"What an idea! Are we not making this voyage 'Dutch treat?' Ought we not
to share all? Why, this is an accident on the way,--nothing more. Were
we not agreed to seek adventures like veritable knights-errants? And
finally, had not you, yourself, just now the air of one well pleased
with this meeting?"
"I was then before my people, and I did not wish them to guess my
thought,--but to you I can say all. Ah, well! now I am in despair with
all this; and instead of amusing ourselves with vain boasting, I wish
very much to profit by the speed of my schooner to--"
"Do not think of it," I cried. "What would they say at the Yacht Club?
That one of its members had run before a pirate! And then, my dear
Henry," said I, laughing, "remember that your fears are not very
flattering to my honour."
"Ah, stop,--that is dreadful! For the first time in my life, I find a
friend such as I have dreamed of, and through my own fault I risk losing
him," cried Falmouth, throwing himself on a chair and burying his head
in both hands.
"My dear Henry," I replied, deeply touched by his tone, "on the
contrary, let us thank this chance which has furnished us this proof.
Does not the emotion that we both feel show us that this friendship is
already first in our hearts? Could we have found a similar revelation in
the ordinary uniform life of the world? Believe me, we see in this a
good fortune; let us bless it and profit by it. It is by fire that pure
gold is proved."
A sailor descending precipitately, came to beg Falmouth to ascend to the
deck.
When he had gone, Henry threw himself into my arms with effusion, and
said: "You have a noble heart,--my instinct has not deceived me."
I remained alone.
If Falmouth feared the chances of this combat for me, I also feared them
keenly for him.
This uneasiness revealed to me all the strength of the affection I bore
him.
By what miracle had this friendship so suddenly developed? How came its
roots to be already so deep, in spite of my distrust, in spite of my
habitual incredulity?
I do not know, but it was so, and we had travelled together scarcely one
month.
Perhaps this rapid progress would seem less surprising, if one
considered the secret instinct which had attracted us to each other
before our departure.
I took up my arms.
I had then a moment of frightful agony.
In thinking of the danger we were to run, I feared being cowardly, or,
rather, that my courage might not reach the height of a noble sacrifice;
I asked myself if, in supreme danger, I could sacrifice my life to save
Falmouth's, and, I confess to my shame, I dared not reply with
certainty.
It is true, I knew myself to be brave, with a cool, stubborn bravery. I
had had a duel in which my calm energy had done me honour: but was that
true courage? Can a man, well born, refuse a duel? Can he bear himself
becomingly, except through good breeding or pride?
I did not know, therefore, if I should have the thoughtless, fulgurating
courage which turns to danger as steel to the magnet, which exalts
itself still more in a bloody conflict, and which, hovering above all
danger, directs its blows with a sure hand, choosing its victims.
I believed I felt, in a word, the cool and inert bravery of the
artillery man, who, near his battery, awaits a bullet without turning
pale, but not the excited intrepidity of the partisan who, sword in
hand, throws himself, with ferocious zeal, into the midst of the
carnage.
And, nevertheless, it was doubtless into a hand to hand combat in the
boarding of a ship that we were to defend our lives. And if I
failed,--and if before these foreigners, if before Falmouth, I should
appear cowardly, or weak! If my instinct of self-preservation should
make me stupid!
No, I could not say what dreadful thing I might bring upon myself in
this moment of hesitation and uncertainty. But I confess that which I
feared most was, that in case Falmouth's life might absolutely depend
upon my courage, I might find myself unequal to this noble duty.
[Footnote 3: That is to say, forming part of the house, not considered
as servants; pages, riding-masters, and esquires were domestics in this
acceptation.]