Pierre des Anbiez arrived at Cape l’Aigle at the break of day. Scarcely
had the black galley anchored in the port of La Ciotat, when the
commander and his brother descended to the shore.
Everywhere they saw marks of the pirate’s barbarity.
The weeping inhabitants then knew all the extent of their losses. Each
family had learned which one of its members had perished or had been
taken captive.
During the battle, they thought only of defending themselves and
repulsing the enemy; then, too, night had veiled the disasters which
day revealed in all their horror. On one side, walls blackened by the
conflagration barely supported the tottering carpentry.
Farther on was the town hall, of which only the walls remained. Its
windows were broken, its balcony demolished, its doors burned to ashes,
its foundations charred, and showers of balls everywhere proved that the
citizens had defended themselves with vigorous earnestness.
The large square of La Ciotat, the theatre of the most murderous
conflict of that fatal night, was covered with dead bodies.
Nothing could be more heartrending than to see the afflicted inhabitants
seeking a father, a brother, a son, or a friend among these dead.
When they recognised one whom they sought, the others, petrified with
grief, would look on in silence; again, some would utter impotent cries
for vengeance; and some in their wild lamentation would rush to the
port, as if they would there find the galleys of the lawless brigands.
The commander and Father Elzear walked through this scene of desolation,
speaking words of consolation to the unfortunate sufferers, and asking
information of Raimond V.
They learned that he had made a most valuable and courageous defence, by
attacking the pirates at the head of the company from Maison-Forte, but
no one could tell them if the baron was wounded or not.
The two brothers, in their anxiety, hastened to Maison-Forte,
followed by a few subordinate officers of the galley, and by Luquin
Trinquetaille, who had also anchored his polacre in the port.
They arrived at the Castle des Anbiez. The bridge was lowered, and the
great court deserted, although it was the hour for work.
They mounted the stairs in haste, and reached the immense hall in which
the pious Christmas ceremonies had taken place the evening before.
All the inmates of Maison-Forte, men, women, old people, and children,
were kneeling in this vast hall, where reigned the most profound
silence.
So absorbed was this crowd in its devotions, and so anxiously did
they watch the half-open door of the baron’s chamber, that not one
perceived the entrance of the commander and Father Elzear.
At the bottom of the hall, under the dais, was the cradle, the
masterpiece of Dame Dulceline and the good chaplain. A few candles still
burned in the copper chandeliers. The colossal Christmas log was smoking
in the depth of the vast chimney, still ornamented with green branches
and fruits and flowers and ribbons.
Nothing seemed more startling than this scene lighted by the first pale
rays of a winter day; nothing more painful than the contrast between the
feast of the night and the sorrow of the morning.
After having contemplated this quiet and imposing scene, the commander
gently called aside some of the baron’s vassals to open a way to the
door of the baron’s chamber.
“Monseigneur, the commander, and good Father Elzear!” were the words
which circulated among the anxious crowd, as they waited for news of the
baron’s condition, whether or not his wounds permitted them to indulge
a hope for his recovery.
Pierre des Anbiez and his brother, with a soft and cautious tread,
entered the chamber of Raimond V.
The old gentleman, still dressed in his holiday attire, even to his
long boots, was lying on his bed. His venerable face was livid, and his
flowing white locks were stained with blood.
Abbé Mascarolus was dressing the wounds in his head, assisted in this
pious duty by Honorât de Berrol. Dame Dulceline, whose tears never
ceased to flow, was cutting cloth bands, while the majordomo Laramée,
standing at the foot of the bed, apparently unconscious of all around
him, was sobbing aloud.
So absorbed were the actors in this sad scene, that Father Elzear and
Pierre des Anbiez entered unperceived.
“My brother!” cried the commander and the priest at the same time,
falling on their knees at the bedside of the baron, and kissing his cold
hands affectionately.
“Are the wounds serious, abbé?” said the commander, while Father
Elzear remained on his knees.
“Alas! is it you, M. Commander?” said the chaplain, clasping his
hands in surprise; “if only you had arrived yesterday all these
misfortunes would not have happened, and monseigneur would not be in
danger of death.”
“Great God!” cried Pierre des Anbiez, “we must send at once for
Brother Anselm, the surgeon on board my galley. He will assist you; he
understands wounds made by weapons of war.”
Seeing Luquin Trinquetaille at the door, the commander said to him:
“Go immediately for Brother Anselm, and bring him here.”
Luquin disappeared to execute the commander’s orders. The abbé was
anxiously listening to the laboured breathing of the baron. Finally,
the wounded man made a light movement, turned his head from the chaplain
without opening his eyes, and uttered a long sigh. The commander and the
priest gazed inquiringly into the chaplain’s face, who made a sign of
approval, and took advantage of the baron’s position to dress another
part of the wounds.
Father Elzear, disappointed at not seeing Reine at her father’s
bedside at such a time, said, in a low voice to Honorât: “And where
is Reine? The poor child no doubt cannot endure this painful sight!”
“Great God!” cried Honorât, in astonishment, “and do you not
know, Father Elzear, all the misfortunes which have befallen this house?
Reine has been carried off by the pirates!”
Father Elzear and the commander looked at each other, bewildered.
“My God! my God! spare his old age this last blow!” said the priest,
clasping his hands in supplication, and looking up to heaven. “Grant
us the power to take this unfortunate child from their hands!”
“And does no one know to what point these pirates have fled?” said
the commander, his wrath beyond all bounds. “Inquire of the boats
that arrive; the night was clear, and they must be able to give us some
information.” “Alas!” said Honorât, “I have just arrived at
Maison-Forte, which I and the baron’s guests left that night in peace.
I was ignorant of all these disasters. When the baron was brought home
unconscious, the good abbé sent for me in haste, and I came, finding
him in this desperate state, and his vassals informed me of the
abduction of Mlle, des Anbiez.”
Raimond V. still lay unconscious. From time to time he uttered a feeble
sigh, and then relapsed into a lethargic torpor.
The commander anxiously awaited the coming of the surgeon from his
galley, as he thought his medical attainments superior to those of the
chaplain.
Finally he arrived, followed by Luquin Trinquetaille, who,
notwithstanding the profound silence guarded by the watchers around
the wounded man, cried out to the commander, as he entered the door:
“Monseigneur, the pirates must be anchored on the coast, twenty-five
or thirty leagues from here at the most.”
Pierre des Anbiez, making a sign to the worthy captain to be silent,
walked up to him rapidly, and conducted him into the gallery, which the
vassals had just left at the chaplain’s request.
“What do you say?” said he to Trinquetaille. “Who told you
that?”
“Monseigneur, the coxswain Nicard told me. That night he passed very
near to two galleys and a chebec, which hugged the shore, and he easily
recognised the _Red Galleon_. These vessels were moving very, very
slowly, as if they had been so badly damaged as to be compelled to halt
every few minutes in some deserted harbour on the coast.”
“That must be so,” said the commander, thoughtfully, “they must
have been seriously crippled to stay near the shore, instead of flying
south with their captives and their booty.”
“There is no doubt, monseigneur, that the culverin of Maison-Forte did
them great damage, for Pierron, the fisherman, told me that he saw them
fire that artillery the whole time the galleys of those demons were
doubling the point of the island Verte, and that pass is a fine aim for
the culverin; Master Laramée has told me so a thousand times.”
“The vengeance of the Lord will overtake these robbers, glutted with
blood and pillage,” said the commander, in a hollow voice. “Perhaps I
shall be able to snatch my brother’s unfortunate daughter from their
hands.”
“And also her attendant, Stephanette, if you please, monseigneur,”
said Luquin. “These brigands, no doubt, have carried her off with the
aid of a cursed Bohemian, that the good God will send some day, perhaps,
within reach of my arm.”
“There is not a moment to lose,” said the commander, after a few
moments’ reflection. Then addressing Luquin, he said: “Run to the
port, and issue my order to the king of the chevaliers to prepare my
galley for immediate departure. Do you follow with your polacre. Where
did the coxswain Nicard meet the _Red Galleon?_”
“Near the island of St. Fereol, monseigneur.”
“Then we only need to watch the coast this side of the island of St.
Fereol As soon as you put to sea, set all your sails so as to examine
every point on the coast which may serve as a retreat for the pirates.
If you see anything suspicious, give me warning. I will keep in sight of
your vessel.”
“May Heaven bless your undertaking, monseigneur, and grant that I may
be able to aid you.”
Luquin Trinquetaille, inspired by the hope of recovering Stephanette,
and eager to wreak his vengeance upon the Bohemian, ran to the port in
all possible haste.
Pierre des Anbiez returned to the baron’s chamber. The surgeon from
the galley already saw signs of hope in the improved respiration and
more quiet sleep of the wounded man. The commander gazed sadly and
thoughtfully at his brother. Presentiments he could not conquer told
him that this day would prove a fatal one to him. It grieved him much to
leave the baron without being recognised by him, but time pressed, and
he approached the bed, leaned over the patient, and, kissing his cold
cheeks, said, in a low and broken voice: “Farewell, my poor brother,
farewell.”
When he rose, his hard and austere countenance betrayed his emotion, and
a tear flowed down his cheek.
“Embrace me, my brother,” said he to Elzear, “I am going into
battle, and into a bloody battle, for the _Red Galleon_ is intrepid. I
hope to meet these pirates in some harbour on the coast.”
“M. Commander, I shall follow you,” cried Honorât de Berrol,
“although it pains me to leave Raimond V. at such a time. I ask you to
accept me as a volunteer.”
Pierre des Anbiez seemed agitated by an inward struggle. He recognised
the courage of Honorât, but he also realised the danger of the
enterprise he was about to undertake, and foresaw that it would result
in one of the most desperate encounters in which they had ever taken
part.
“I understand your interest,” said he to Honorât. “We will meet
the pirates, and succeed, perhaps, in rescuing Reine des Anbiez, but if
I do not return, and if his daughter should not return, who will console
him?” and he pointed to the baron. “Does he not love you as a second
son?”
“And if you do not return, and if his daughter does not return,”
eried Honorât, “who will console me for not having followed you, and
for not having shared your dangers?”
“Come, then,” said the commander, “I cannot combat your noble
resolution any longer. Let us go. Farewell, again, my brother, pray for
us,” added the soldier, tenderly embracing his brother Elzear.
“Alas! may the Lord bless your undertaking. God grant you may bring
our dear child back to us, and our brother, waking from the painful
sleep, may find his daughter kneeling at his bedside!”
“May Heaven hear you, brother!” said the commander. For the last
time he pressed the cold hand of Raimond V., and hurried out of the
chamber toward the port There he found his galley ready to depart, and
set sail at once, followed by the polacre of the brave Trinquetaille.
Thus it was that the black galley found itself in sight of the Bay of
Lérins, where the two galleys of the pirates were anchored, when Hadji
came out of the road with his chebec to execute the orders of Pog, and
lead in pursuit of him the galley of religion.