A BACKWARD GLANCE.
The family of the Count de Barmont Senectaire was one of the most
ancient and noble in Languedoc; their origin went back to an antiquity
so remote, that we may declare without fear of contradiction that it
was lost in the mist of ages.
A Barmont Senectaire fought at Bouvines by the side of Philip Augustus.
The chronicle of Joinville mentions a Barmont Senectaire, knight
banneret, who died of the plague at Tunis, in 1270, during the second
crusade of King Louis IX.
Francis I. on the evening of the battle of Marignano, gave the rank of
Count on the battlefield itself to Euguerrand de Barmont Senectaire,
captain of one hundred men at arms, to reward him for his grand conduct
and the sturdy blows he had seen him deal during the whole period of
that combat of giants.
Few noble families have such splendid title deeds among their archives.
The Counts de Barmont were always military nobles, and they gave France
several celebrated generals.
But in the course of time, the power and fortune of this family
gradually diminished: during the reign of Henri III. it was reduced to
a condition bordering on poverty. Still, justly proud of a stainless
past, they continued to carry their heads high in the province, and if
the Count de Barmont endured hard privations in order to support his
name worthily, nothing of this was visible externally, and everybody
was ignorant of the fact.
The Count had attached himself to the fortunes of the King of Navarre
as much through the hope of regaining a position through the war,
as through admiration of this prince, whose genius he had probably
divined. A brave soldier, but young, impetuous, and handsome, the
Count had several affairs of gallantry. One among others with a lady
of the Town of Cahors, affianced to a very rich Spanish noble, whom he
succeeded in carrying off on the very day before that appointed for the
marriage. The Spaniard, who was very strict in matters affecting his
honour, considered this joke in bad taste, and demanded satisfaction
of the Count; the latter gave him two sword thrusts, and left him
dead on the ground. This affair attracted great attention, and gained
the Count much honor among people of refinement; but the Spaniard,
contrary to expectation, recovered from his wounds. The two gentlemen
fought again, and this time the Count so ill treated his adversary
that the latter was constrained to give up all thoughts of a new
meeting. This adventure disgusted the Count with gallantry, not that he
personally feared the results of the hatred which the Duke of Peñaflor
had sworn against him, for he never heard of him again, but because
his conscience reproached him with having, for the satisfaction of a
caprice which passed away so soon as it was satisfied, destroyed the
happiness of an honourable man, and he felt remorse for his conduct in
the affair.
After bravely fighting by the side of the King during all his wars,
the Count finally retired to his estates, about the year 1610, after
the death of that Prince, disgusted with the Court, and feeling the
necessity of repose after such an amount of fatigue.
Here, four or five years later, wearied with the solitude in which
he lived, and, perhaps, in the hope of expelling from his mind a
troublesome recollection, which, in spite of the time that had elapsed,
did not cease to torture him, the Count resolved to marry, and selected
for his wife a young lady belonging to one of the best families in
the province--charming and gentle, but as poor as himself; this
circumstance was far from bringing ease into the family, whose position
daily became more difficult.
The union, however, was a happy one; in 1616 the Countess was delivered
of a son, who at once became the joy of the poor household.
This son was Count Ludovic, whose story we have undertaken to tell.
In spite of his fondness for the boy, the Count, however, brought him
up strictly, wishing to make of him a rude, brave, and loyal gentleman,
like himself.
Young Ludovic felt at an early hour, on discovering what misery was
concealed behind the apparent splendour of his family, the necessity
of creating for himself an independent position, which would allow him
not only to be no longer a burden to parents whom he loved, and who
sacrificed to him the greater portion of their income, but to restore
also the eclipsed lustre of the name he bore.
Contrary to the custom followed by his ancestors, who had all served
the king or his armies, his tastes led him to the navy.
Owing to the assiduous care of an old and worthy priest, who had
become his tutor through attachment to his family, he had received a
solid education, by which he had profited; accounts of voyages, which
constituted his principal reading, inflamed his imagination; all his
thoughts were turned to America, where, according to the statements of
sailors, gold abounded, and he had but one desire--to land himself
in this mysterious country, and take his part of the rich crop which
everybody garnered there.
His father, and his mother even more, for a long time resisted his
entreaties. The old man, who had fought during so many years, could not
understand why his son should not do the same, or prefer the navy to a
commission in the army. The Countess, in her heart, did not wish to see
her son either soldier or sailor, for both professions terrified her;
she feared for her son the unknown perils of distant excursions, and
her tenderness was alarmed by the thought of what might be an eternal
separation.
Still, something must be done, and as the young man obstinately adhered
to his resolution, his parents were compelled to yield and consent to
what he desired, whatever might be the future consequences of this
determination.
The Count still had some old friends at Court, among them being the
Duke de Bellegarde, who stood on terms of great intimacy with King
Louis XIII., surnamed the "_Just_" during his lifetime, because he was
born under the sign of Libra.
Monsieur de Barmont had also been connected at an earlier date with
the Duke d'Epernon, created Admiral of France in 1587; but he had a
repugnance in applying to him, owing to the rumours that were spread
at the time of the assassination of Henri IV. Still, in a case so
urgent as the present one, the Count comprehended that for the sake of
his son he must silence his private feelings, and at the same time as
he addressed a letter to the Duke de Bellegarde, he sent another to
Epernon, who at this period was Governor of Guyenne.
The double answer the Count expected was not long deferred; M. de
Barmont's two old friends had not forgotten him, and hastened to employ
their credit on his behalf.
The Duke d'Epernon especially, better situated through his title of
Admiral to be useful to the young man, wrote that he would gladly
undertake the duty of pushing him on in the world.
This took place at the beginning of 1631, when Ludovic de Barmont had
reached his sixteenth year.
Being very tall, with a proud and haughty air, and endowed with rare
vigour and great agility, the young man seemed older than he in reality
was. It was with the liveliest joy that he learned how his wishes
had been fulfilled, and that nothing prevented him from embracing a
maritime career.
The Duke d'Epernon's letter requested the Count de Barmont to send his
son as speedily as possible to Bordeaux, so that he might at once place
him aboard a man-of-war, to commence his apprenticeship.
Two days after the receipt of this letter the young man tore himself
with difficulty from the embraces of his mother, bade his father a
respectful farewell, and took the road to Bordeaux, mounted on a good
horse, and followed by a confidential valet.
The navy had for a long time been neglected in France; and left during
the middle ages in the hands of private persons, as the government,
following the example of the other continental powers, did not deign
to try and secure a respectable position on the seas, much less a
supremacy; thus we see during the reign of Francis I., who was,
however, one of the warlike Kings of France, Ango, a ship broker of
Dieppe, from whom the Portuguese had taken a vessel during a profound
peace, authorized by the King, who was unable to procure him justice,
to equip a fleet at his own expense. With this fleet Ango, we may
remark incidentally, blockaded the port of Lisbon, and did not cease
hostilities until he had forced the Portuguese to send to France
ambassadors humbly to ask peace of the King.
The discovery of the New World, however, and the no less important one
of the Cape of Good Hope, by giving navigation a greater activity and
a more extended sphere, at the same time as they widened the limits of
commerce, caused the necessity to be felt of creating a navy, intended
to protect merchant vessels against the attacks of corsairs.
It was not till the reign of Louis XIII. that the idea of creating a
navy began to be carried into execution. Cardinal de Richelieu, whose
vast genius embraced everything, and whom the English fleets had
caused several times to tremble during the long and wearying siege of
Rochelle, passed several decrees relating to the navy, and founded a
school of navigation, intended to educate those young gentlemen who
desired to serve the King aboard his vessels.
It is to this great minister, then, that France is indebted for the
first thought of a navy; this navy was destined to contend against
the Spanish and Dutch fleets, and during the reign of Louis XIV., to
acquire so great an importance, and momentarily hold in check the power
of England.
It was this school of navigation created by Richelieu that the Viscount
de Barmont entered, thanks to the influence of the Duke d'Epernon.
The old gentleman strictly kept the pledge he had given his former
comrade in arms; he did not cease to protect the young man, which,
however, was an easy task, for the latter displayed an extraordinary
aptitude, and a talent very rare at that date in the profession he had
embraced.
Hence, in 1641, he was already a captain in the navy, and had the
command of a twenty-six gun frigate.
Unfortunately, neither the old Count de Barmont nor his wife was able
to enjoy the success of their son or the new era opening for their
house; they both died a few days apart from each other, leaving the
young man an orphan at the age of two-and-twenty.
As a pious son, Ludovic, who really loved his parents, lamented and
regretted them, especially his mother, who had always been so kind and
tender to him; but, as he had been accustomed for so many years to live
alone during his long voyages, and only to trust to himself, he did not
feel the loss so painfully as he would have done had he never left the
paternal roof.
Henceforth the sole representative of his house, he regarded life more
seriously than he had hitherto done, and redoubled his efforts to
restore to his name its almost eclipsed lustre, which, thanks to his
exertions, was beginning to shine again with renewed brilliancy.
The Duke d'Epernon still lived, but a forgotten relic of an almost
entirely departed generation--a sickly octogenarian, who had quarrelled
long ago with Cardinal de Richelieu, his influence was null, and he
could do nothing for the man he had so warmly protected a few years
previously.
But the Count did not allow this to prey on his mind; the naval
service was not envied by the nobility, good officers were rare, and
he believed that if he cautiously avoided mixing himself up in any
political intrigue, he might have a brilliant career.
An accident, impossible to foresee, was fated to destroy all his
ambitious plans, and ruin his career forever.
This is how the affair occurred:--The Count de Barmont, at the time
commanding the Erigone, twenty-six gun frigate, after a lengthened
cruise in the Algerian waters to protect French merchant vessels
against the Barbary pirates, steered for the states of Gibraltar, in
order to reach the Atlantic, and return to Brest, whither he had orders
to proceed at the end of his cruise; but just as he was about to pass
through the Straits, he was caught by a squall, and after extraordinary
efforts to continue his course, which almost cast him on to the coast
of Africa, owing to the strength of the wind and the rough, chopping
sea, he was obliged to stand off and on for several hours, and finally
take refuge in the port of Algeciras, which was to windward of him, on
the Spanish coast.
So soon as he had anchored, and made all snug, the commandant, who
knew from experience that two or three days would elapse ere the wind
veered, and allowed him to pass the Straits, ordered his boat, and went
ashore.
Although the town of Algeciras is very old, it is very small, badly
built, and scantily populated; at this period, more especially, it
only formed, as it were, a poor market town. It was not till after the
English had seized Gibraltar, situated on the other side of the bay,
that the Spaniards comprehended the importance of Algeciras to them,
and have converted it into a regular port.
The Captain had no other motive for landing at Algeciras, than the
restlessness natural to sailors, which impels them to leave their
vessel as soon as they have cast anchor.
Commercial relations were not established at that time, as they now
are. The government had not yet fallen into the custom of sending to
foreign ports residents ordered to watch over their countrymen, and
protect their transactions--in a word, consulates had not yet been
created: only those ships of war, which accident might lead to any
port, now and then undertook to procure justice for those of their
countrymen, whose interests had been encroached on.
After landing, and giving orders to his coxswain to come and fetch
him at sunset, the Captain, merely followed by a sailor, of the name
of Michael, to whom he was greatly attached, and who accompanied him
everywhere, turned into the winding streets of Algeciras, curiously
examining everything that offered itself to view.
This Michael, to whom we shall have several occasions to refer, was a
tall fellow, with an intelligent face, about thirty years of age, and
who had vowed an eternal devotion to his captain since the day when the
latter had risked his life in saving his, by jumping into a boat during
a terrible storm four years before, to help him when he had fallen into
the sea while going up the shrouds to ease the mainsail.
Since that day Michael had never left the Count, and had always
contrived to sail with him. Born in the vicinity of Pau, the country of
Henri IV., he was like the king, his fellow countryman, gay, mocking,
and even sceptical. An excellent sailor, endowed with tried bravery,
and far from ordinary vigour, Michael offered in his person the
perfect type of the Béarnaise Basque, a strong and rough, though loyal
and faithful race.
Only one individual shared in Michael's heart the unbounded friendship
he felt for his chief. This privileged being was a Breton sailor,
gloomy and taciturn, who formed a complete antithesis to him, and whom,
owing to his slowness, the crew had favoured with the characteristic
name of Bowline, which he had accepted, and was so accustomed to answer
to it, that he had almost forgotten the name he previously bore.
The service the Count had done Michael, the latter had rendered to
Bowline: hence he was attached to the Breton through this very service,
and while mocking and teasing him from morning till night, he had a
sincere friendship for him.
The Breton understood Michael, and so far as his reserved and slightly
demonstrative nature permitted, he testified on every occasion his
gratitude to the Basque, by letting himself be completely directed and
governed by him in all the actions of his life, without ever attempting
to revolt against the frequent exorbitant demands of his mentor.
If we have dwelt so long on the character of these two men, it is
because they are destined in the course of this work to play an
important part; and the reader must be acquainted with them, in order
to understand the facts we shall have to record.
The Count and his sailor continued to advance along the streets,
the one reflecting and amusing himself the other remaining, through
respect, a few paces in the rear, and desperately smoking a pipe, whose
stem was so short that the bowl almost touched his lips.
While walking thus straight before them, the promenaders soon reached
the end of the town, and turned into a lane bordered by aloes, which
led, with a rather steep incline, to the top of a hill, whence could
be enjoyed the entire panorama of the bay of Algeciras, which, we may
remark in a parenthesis, is the finest in the world.
It was about two in the afternoon, the hottest moment of the day. The
sun profusely poured down its torrid beams, which made the pebbles in
the road sparkle like diamonds.
Hence everybody had gone within doors to enjoy the siesta, so that,
since landing, the two sailors had not met a living creature; and if
the Arabian Nights, which were not translated till a century later,
had been known at the time, the Count, without any great effort of the
imagination, might have believed himself transported to that city where
all the inhabitants had been sent to sleep by a wicked impostor, so
complete was the silence around him, while the landscape had the aspect
of a desert. To complete the illusion, the breeze had fallen, there was
not a breath of air, and the vast expanse of water stretched out at
their feet was as motionless as if composed of ice.
The Count stopped, pensively gazing with an absent eye at his frigate,
which at this distance was scarce as large as a skiff.
Michael smoked more than ever, and admired the country with straddling
legs, and his arm behind his back, in that position so liked by sailors.
"Hilloh!" he said suddenly.
"What is the matter with you?" the Count asked him, as he turned round.
"Nothing the matter with me, Captain," he replied, "I am only looking
at a lady who is coming up here at a gallop. What a fancy to go at
that pace in such a heat as this."
"Where is she?" asked the Count.
"Why, there, Captain," he said, stretching out his hand to larboard.
The Count turned his eyes in the direction which Michael indicated to
him.
"Why, that horse has bolted," he exclaimed, a moment later.
"Do you think so, Captain?" the sailor remarked, calmly.
"Zounds! I am certain of it. Look, now that she is nearer to us. The
rider is clinging despairingly to the mane. The unhappy girl is lost!"
"Very possibly," Michael said, philosophically.
"Quick, quick, my lad!" the Captain shouted, as he rushed to the side
where the horse was coming up. "We must save the lady, even if we
perish!"
The sailor made no answer; he merely took the precaution of withdrawing
his pipe from his mouth and placing it in his pocket, and then he set
out at a run behind his captain.
The horse came on like a whirlwind. It was a barb of the purest
Arab race, with a small head, and legs fine as spindles. It bounded
furiously with all four legs on the narrow path it was following, with
eyes full of flashes, and apparently snorting fire through its dilated
nostrils. The lady on its back, half reclining on its neck, had seized
its long mane with both hands, and, half insane with terror, as she
felt herself lost, she uttered stifled cries at intervals.
Very far in the rear, several horsemen, who formed almost imperceptible
dots on the horizon, were coming up at full speed.
The track on which the horse was engaged, was narrow and rocky, and led
to a precipice of frightful depth, toward which the animal was dashing
with a headlong speed.
A man must either be mad, or endowed with a lion's courage, to try and
save this unhappy woman under such conditions, when he had ninety-nine
chances in a hundred of being crushed, without succeeding in rescuing
her from death.
The two sailors, however, made no reflections of this nature, and
without hesitation resolved to make a supreme effort. They stood facing
each other on either side of the track, and waited without exchanging a
word. They understood one another.
Two or three minutes elapsed, and then the horse passed like a tornado;
but with the speed of thought the two men dashed forward, seized it by
the bridle, and, hanging their whole weight on it, allowed themselves
to be dragged onward by the furious animal.
There was for a moment a terrible struggle between intelligence and
brute strength. At length the brute was conquered. The horse stumbled,
and fell panting on the ground.
At the moment of its fall, the Count removed in his arms, the lady so
miraculously saved, and he bore her to the side of the road, where he
respectfully laid her down.
Terror had certainly deprived her of consciousness.
The Count guessing that the horsemen coming up, were relations or
friends of her to whom he had just rendered so great a service,
repaired the disorder in his clothes and awaited their arrival, while
gazing admiringly at the young lady lying at his feet.
She was a charming young creature, scarce seventeen years of age, with
a delicate waist, and marked and adorably beautiful features; her long
black silky hair had escaped from the comb that confined it and fell in
perfumed curls over her face, on which a slight flush presaged a speedy
return to life.
The young lady's dress, which was very rich and remarkably elegant,
would have led to the supposition that she was of high rank, had not
the stamp of aristocracy, spread over her entire person, removed all
doubts on that score.
Michael, with his characteristic coolness which nothing ever upset,
had remained by the side of the horse which, calmed by the fall and
trembling in all its limbs, had allowed itself to be raised without
offering the slightest resistance; the Basque after removing the
saddle, had plucked a wisp of grass, and began rubbing the horse down,
while admiring it, and muttering every now and then.
"I don't care, it's a noble and beautiful animal! It would have been
a pity had it rolled over that frightful precipice; I am glad it is
saved."
The worthy sailor did not think the least bit in the world of the young
lady, for his entire interest was concentrated on the horse.
When he had finished rubbing down, he put the saddle and bridle on
again and led the horse up to the Count.
"There," he said with an air of satisfaction, "now the horse is calm;
poor creature, a child could guide it with a thread."
In the meanwhile the horsemen rapidly approached, and soon came up to
the two French sailors.