These innocent words, recited by the child with charming grace, were listened to with religious solemnity.
Then the child wet his lips with the wine in the cup, and presented it to Raimond V., who did likewise, and the cup passed from hand to hand, among all the members of the baron’s family, until each one had wet his lips with the consecrated beverage.
Then twelve foresters in holiday dress lifted the calignaou, and carried it into the hall of the dais, while, in conformity to the law of the ceremony, Raimond V. held in his hand one of the roots of the tree, and the child held one of the branches; the old man saying, “Black roots are old age,” and the child answering, “Green branches are youth,” and the assistants adding in chorus, “God bless us all, who love him and serve him!”
The log, borne into the hall on the robust shoulders of the foresters, was placed in the immense fireplace, whereupon the child took a pine torch, and held it to a pile of fir-apples and boughs; a tall white flame sparkled in the vast, black hearth, and threw a joyous radiance to the farther end of the gallery.
“Christmas, Christmas!” cried the guests of the baron, clapping their hands.
“Christmas! Christmas!” repeated the vassals assembled in the interior court.
At the same moment, the pile of wood outside was kindled, and the tall yellow flames mounted in the midst of enthusiastic shouts, and whirls of a Provençal dance.
One other last ceremony was to take place, and then the guests would gather around the supper-table.
Reine advanced to the cradle, and Stephanette brought to her a wooden bowl filled with the corn of St. Barbara, which was already green. For it was the custom in Provence, every fourth of December, St Barbara’s day, to sow grains of corn in a porringer filled with earth frequently watered. This wet earth was exposed to a very high temperature, and the com grew rapidly. If it was green, it predicted a good harvest, if it was yellow, the harvest would be bad.
Mlle, des Anbiez placed the wooden bowl at the foot of the cradle, and on each side of this offering lit two little square silver lamps, called in the Provençal tongue the lamps of Calenos, or Christmas lamps.
“St Barbara’s corn, green; fine harvests all the year!” cried the baron: “so may my harvests and your harvests be, my guests and cousins! Now to the table, yes, to the table, friends, and then come the Christmas presents for friends and relations!”
Master Laramée opened the folding doors which led to the dining-room, and announced supper. It is needless to speak of the abundance of this meal, worthy in every respect of the hospitality of Raimond V.
What, however, we must not fail to remark, is that there were three table-cloths, in conformity to another ancient custom.
On the smallest, which was in the middle of the table, in the style of a centre-piece, were the presents of fruits and cakes that the members of the family made to their head.
On the second, a little larger and lapping over the first, were arranged the national dishes of the simplest character, such as bouillabaisse, a fish-soup, famous in Provence, and broiled salt tunny.
Lastly, on the third cloth, which covered the rest of the table, were the choicest dishes in abundance, and artistically arranged.
We will leave the guests of Raimond V. to the enjoyment of a patriarchal hospitality as they discussed old customs, and grew excited over arguments relating to freedom and ancient privileges, always so respected and so valiantly defended by those who remain faithful to the pathetic and religious traditions of the olden time.
That happy, peaceful evening was but too soon interrupted by the events to which we will now introduce the reader.
While Raimond V. and his guests were supping gaily, the company of soldiers seen by the watchman, about fifty men belonging to the regiment of Guitry, had arrived almost at the door of Maison-Forte.
The recorder Isnard, followed by his clerk, as usual, said to Captain Georges, who commanded the detachment:
“It would be prudent, captain, to try a summons before attacking by force, in order to take possession of the person of Raimond V. There are about fifty well-armed men in his lair behind good walls.”
“Eh! what matters the walls to me?”
“But, besides the walls, there is a bridge, and you see, captain, it is up.”
“Eh! what do I care for the bridge? If Raimond V. refuses to lower it—ah, well, zounds! my carabineers will assault the place; that happened more than once in the last war! If necessary, we will attach a petard to the door, but let it be understood, recorder, that, whatever happens, you are to follow us to make an official report.”
“Hum! hum!” grunted the man of law. “Without doubt, I and my clerk must assist you; I shall be able, even under that circumstance, to note the good conduct and zeal of the aforesaid clerk in charging him with this honourable mission.”
“But, Master Isnard, that is your office, and not mine!” said the unhappy clerk.
“Silence, my clerk, we are here before Maison-Forte. The moments are precious. Do you prepare to follow the captain and obey me!”
The company had, in fact, reached the end of the sycamore walk, which bordered the half-circle.
The bridge was up, and the windows opening on the interior court were brilliant with light, as the baron’s guests had departed but a little while.
“You see, captain, the bridge is up, and more, the moat is wide and deep, and full of water,” said the recorder.
Captain Georges carefully examined the entrances of the place; after a few moments of silence, he pulled his moustache on the left side violently,—a sure sign of his disappointment.
A sentinel, standing inside the court, seeing the glitter of arms in the moonlight, cried, in a loud voice:
“Who goes there? Answer, or I will fire!”
The recorder jumped back three steps, hid himself behind the captain, and replied, in a high voice:
“In the name of the king and the cardinal, I, Master Isnard, recorder of the admiralty of Toulon, command you to lower this bridge!”
“You will not depart?” said the voice. At the same time a light shone from one of the loopholes for guns which defended the entrance. It was easy to judge that the sentinel was blowing the match of his musket.
“Take care!” cried Isnard. “Your master will be held responsible for what you are going to do!”
This warning made the soldier reflect; he fired his musket in the air, at the same time crying the word of alarm in a stentorian voice.
“He has fired on the king’s soldiers!” cried the recorder, pale with anger and fright “It is an act of armed rebellion. I saw it. Clerk, make a note of that act!”
“No, recorder,” said the captain, “he has barked, but he has not desired to murder. I saw the light, too, and he fired in the air to give the alarm.”
In answer to the sentinel’s cries, several lights appeared above the walls; numerous precipitate steps, and a great clang of arms were heard in the court At last, Master Laramée, a helmet on his head and his breast armed with a cuirass, appeared at one of the embrasures of the gate.
“In the name of God, what do you want?” cried he. “Is this the time, pray, to come here and trouble good people who are keeping Christmas?”
“We have an order from the king which we come to put into execution,” said the recorder, “and I—”
“I have some wine left yet in my glass, recorder; good evening, I am going to empty it,” said Laramée, “only, remember the bulls, and know that a musket-ball reaches farther than their horns. So, now, good-night, recorder!” “Think well on what you are going to do, insolent scoundrel,” said Captain Georges; “you are not dealing this time with a wet hen of a recorder, but with a fight-ing-cock, who has a hard beak and sharp spurs, I warn you.”
“The fact is, Master Isnard,” said the clerk, humbly, to the recorder, “we are to this soldier what a pumpkin is to an artillery ball.”
The recorder, already very much offended by the captain’s comparison, rudely repulsed the clerk, and, addressing Laramée with great importance, said:
“You have this time, at your door, the right and the power, the hand and the sword of justice. So, majordomo, I order you to open and to lower the bridge.”
A well-known voice interrupted the recorder; it was that of Raimond V., who had been informed of the arrival of the captain. Escorted by Laramée, who carried a torch, the old gentleman appeared erect upon the little platform that formed the entablature of the gate masked by the drawbridge.
The fluctuating light of the torch threw red reflections on the group of soldiers, and shone upon their steel collars and iron head-pieces; half of the scene being in the shade or lighted by the rays of the moon.
Raimond V. wore his holiday attire, richly braided with gold, and his white hair fell over his lace collar. Nothing was more dignified, more imposing or manly than his attitude.
“What do you want?” said he, in a sonorous voice. Master Isnard repeated the formula of his speech, and concluded by declaring that Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, was arrested, and would be conducted under a safe escort to the prison of the provost of Marseilles, for the crime of rebellion against the orders of the king.
The baron listened to the recorder in profound silence. When the man of law had finished, cries of indignation, howls, and threats, uttered by the dependents of the baron, resounded through the interior court.
Raimond V. turned around, commanded silence, and replied to the recorder:
“You wished to visit my castle illegally, and to exercise in it an authority contrary to the rights of the Provençal nobility. I drove you away with my whip. I did what I ought to have done. Now, Manjour! I cannot allow myself to be arrested for having done what I ought to have done in chastising a villain of your species. Now, execute the orders with which you are charged,—I will not prevent you, any more than I prevented your visit to my magazine of artillery. I regret the departure of my guests, for they also, in their name, would have protested against the oppression of the tyranny of Marseilles.” This speech from the baron was welcomed with cries of joy by the garrison of Maison-Forte.
Raimond V. was about to descend from his pedestal when Captain Georges, who had the rough language and abrupt manners of an old soldier, advanced on the other side of the moat; he took his hat in his hand, and said to Raimond V., in a respectful tone:
“Monseigneur, I must inform you of one thing, which is, that I have with me fifty determined soldiers, and that I am resolved, though to my regret, to execute my orders.”
“Execute them, my brave friend,” said the baron, smiling, with a jocose manner, “execute them. Your marshal wishes to know if my powder is good; he instructs you to be the gunpowder prover. We will begin the trial whenever you wish.”
“Captain, this is too much parley,” cried the recorder. “I order you this instant to employ force of arms to take possession of this rebel against the commands of the king, our master, and to—”
“Recorder, I have no orders to receive from you; only take care not to put yourself between the lance and the cuirass,—you might come to grief,” said the captain, imperiously, to Master Isnard.
Then, turning to the baron, he said, with as much firmness as deference:
“For the last time, monseigneur, I beseech you to consider well: the blood of your vassals will flow; you are going to kill old soldiers who have no animosity against you or yours, and all that, monseigneur,—permit an old graybeard to speak to you frankly,—all that because you wish to rebel against the orders of the king. May God forgive you, monseigneur, for causing the death of so many brave men, and me, for drawing the sword against one of the most worthy gentlemen of the province; but I am a soldier, and I must obey the orders I have received.”
This simple and noble language made a profound impression on Raimond V. He bowed his head in silence, remained thoughtful for some minutes, then he descended from the platform. Murmurs inside were distinctly heard, dominated by the ringing voice of the baron. At the same instant the bridge was lowered and the gate opened; Raimond V. appeared, and said to the captain, as he offered his hand with a dignified and cordial air:
“Enter, sir, enter; you are a brave and honest soldier. Although my head is white, it is sometimes as foolish as a boy’s. I was wrong. It is true, you must obey the orders which have been given to you. It is not to you, it is to the Marshal of Vitry that I should express my opinion of his conduct toward the Provençal nobility. These brave men ought not to be the victims of my resistance. To-morrow at the break of day, if you will, we will depart for Marseilles.”
“Ah, monseigneur,” said the captain, pressing the hand of Raimond V. with emotion, and bowing with respect, “it is now that I really despair of the mission that I am to fulfil.”
The baron was about to reply to the captain when a distant, but dreadful noise rose on the air, attracting the attention of all those who filled the court of Maison-Forte. It was like the hollow roar of the sea in its fury.
Suddenly a tremendous light illuminated the horizon in the direction of La Ciotat, and the bells of the convent and the church began to sound the alarm.
The first idea that entered the baron’s mind was that the city was on fire.
“Fire!” cried he, “La Ciotat is on fire! Captain, you have my word, I am your prisoner, but let us run to the city. You with your soldiers, I with my people, we can be useful there.”
“I am at your orders, monseigneur.”
At that moment the prolonged, reverberating sound of artillery made the shore tremble with its echoes, and shook the windows of Maison-Forte.
“Cannon! Those are the pirates! The watchman to the devil for allowing us to be surprised! The pirates! To arms, captain! to arms! These demons are attacking the city. Laramée, my sword! Captain, to horse! to horse! You can take me prisoner to-morrow, but to-night let us run to defend this unfortunate city.”
“But, monseigneur, your house—”
“The devil take them if they venture here! Laramée and twenty men could defend it against an entire army. But this unfortunate city is surprised. Quick! to horse! to horse!”
The roar of the artillery became more and more frequent. All the bells were ringing,—a deep rumbling sound reached as far as Maison-Forte,—and the flames increased in number and intensity.
Laramée, in all haste, brought the baron’s helmet and cuirass. Raimond V. took the helmet, but would not hear of the cuirass.
“Manjour! what time have I to fasten that paraphernalia? Quick, bring Mistraon to me,” cried he, running to the stable.
He found Mistraon bridled, but, seeing that it required some time to saddle him, he mounted the horse barebacked, told Laramée to keep twenty men for the defence of Maison-Forte, commended his daughter to his care, and took, in hot haste, the road to La Ciotat.
As the baron and the captain approached the city, they saw the whirlwind of flames more distinctly.
The bells continued to ring at random; a thousand cries, more or less distinct, mingled with the bursts of musketry and the roar of artillery from the galleys.
When they arrived behind the walls of the Ursuline convent, situated at the extreme end of the city, Raimond V. said: “Captain, let us halt here a moment to collect our people and agree upon operations. Manjour! I feel young again; the blood thickens in my veins. I have not felt that since the wars of Piedmont; it is because a pirate is worse than a foreigner, and in the civil wars, a man’s heart is oppressed in spite of himself. Silence!” said the baron to his troops as he turned around. “Let us hear where the firing comes from.”
After listening closely for some minutes, he said to the captain: “Will you listen to my counsel?”
“I will follow your orders, monseigneur, for I am not well acquainted with La Ciotat.”
Then, addressing one of his men, Raimond V. said: “Do you conduct the captain and his soldiers to the port, going around the city so as not to be seen. When you are there, captain, if there are any more demons to land, you will drive them back to their galleys; if they have all disembarked, do you wait until they return, so as to cut off their retreat; during that time, I will try to beat them up for you like a herd of wild boars.”
“In what part of the city do you think they are, monseigneur?”
“As far as I can judge by the noise of the musketry, they are in the town-hall square, occupied in plundering the houses of the richest citizens. They will not dare venture farther in, as no doubt they are in communication with the port by a little street which goes from that place to the wharf. So, then, captain, to the port,—to the port! let us rather throw these villains back into the sea, than into their vessels. If God gives me life I will expect you at Maison-Forte after the affair, for I do not forget that I am your prisoner. To the port, captain! to the port!”
“Count on me, monseigneur,” said the captain, hastening his march in the direction indicated.
“Now, my children,” said the baron, “keep silence, and let us hurry to the town hall, and put all these brigands to the sword. Our Lady! and forward!” Raimond V. then descended from his horse, and entered the streets of La Ciotat at the head of a determined body of men, full of confidence in their leader.
As Raimond V. approached the centre of action, he recognised, here and there, women who uttered heartrending cries, as they ran in the direction of the mountain, followed by their weeping children, and carrying on their heads their most precious possessions.
In other places, priests and distracted monks, seized with the panic of terror, had left their houses, where they were peaceably keeping Christmas, and were running to throw themselves at the foot of the church altar.
In many deserted streets, armed men stood at their windows, resolved to defend their houses and their families to the utmost, and were thoroughly prepared to give the pirates a vigorous reception.
Clouds of sparks and cinders were encountered by the resolute troops as they steadily marched, and the whirling flames made the streets they crossed as bright as broad day.
At last they reached the square, and, as the baron had foreseen, the principal action was on that side of the town.
The pirates rarely ventured into the streets remote from the coast, for fear of being cut off from their vessels.
It is impossible to paint the spectacle which struck Raimond V. with horror. By the light of the dazzling flames, he saw a part of the pirates engaged in a bloody combat with a number of fishermen and citizens entrenched in the upper story of the town hall.
Other corsairs, thinking only of plunder,—these belonged to the galley of Trimalcyon,—ran like so many demons across the conflagration they had kindled, some laden with costly articles, and others bearing in their robust arms women and young girls, who uttered shrieks of agony and terror.
The ground was already strewn with bodies riddled with wounds, unfortunate victims who at least bore testimony to a desperate resistance on the part of the inhabitants.
Near the middle of the square, and not far from the little street which conducted to the port, could be seen a confused mass of all sorts of objects guarded by two Moors.
The pirates increased this pile of plunder every moment, by coming there and throwing down additional booty, then returning to pillage and murder with renewed ardour.
The number of brave sailors and citizens, who were defending themselves in the town hall, began to diminish sensibly under the blows of the spahis of Pog, who thirsted far more for blood than for pillage.
Armed with a hatchet, Pog attacked the door with fury, voluntarily exposing his life. He wore neither helmet nor cuirass, and was only clothed in his yellek of black velvet.
At the height of this attack Raimond V. arrived on the square.
His troops announced their presence by a general discharge of musketry on the assailants of the town hall.
The pirates, attacked unawares, turned and threw themselves in a rage against the soldiers of the baron. Each side then abandoned firearms. A hand to hand struggle ensued; the conflict became bloody, terrible beyond words to describe. The band of Trimalcyon, seeing this unexpected reinforcement, left their pillage and rallied around Fog’s pirates, surrounding the little company of Raimond V., who was performing prodigies of valour.
The old gentleman seemed to recover the strength of the years of his youth. Armed with a heavy boar-spear, which was provided with a sharp and well-tempered bayonet, he employed this murderous weapon, both lance and club, with tremendous power, and although his helmet was broken in several places and his sword-belt covered with blood, Raimond V., in his enthusiasm as a warrior, did not feel his wounds.
Carried along on the wave of battle, Pog suddenly found himself face to face with the baron. His pale, haughty face, his long red beard, were too conspicuous not to have made a lively impression on Raimond V.
He recognised in this pirate one of the two strangers who accompanied Erebus, at the time of the meeting in the gorges of Ollioules.
“It is the Muscovite who accompanied the brave young man to whom I owe my life,” cried Raimond V.; then he added, as he lifted his spear: “Ah! wild bear, you come from the ice of the north to ravage our provinces!”
And with these words Raimond V. aimed a terrible blow full in the breast. Pog avoided the blow by a quick movement in retreat, but his arm was run through.
“I am a Frenchman, like you,” cried the renegade, with a brutal sneer, “and it is French blood for which I thirst! That your death may be more bitter, know that your daughter is in my power!”
At these terrible words, the baron stood for a moment, bewildered.
Pog profited by his inaction to strike him a terrible blow on the head with his battle-axe. The baron’s helmet had already been broken; he staggered a moment like a drunken man, then fell unconscious.
“Another one of these Provençal bulls killed!” cried Pog, brandishing his battle-axe.
“Let us avenge our lord!” cried the people of Raimond V., hurling themselves at the pirates with such fury that they drove them back into the little street which led to the port.
Soon, reinforced by the sailors who had been besieged in the town hall, and whom the attack of Raimond V. had just delivered, they had such a decided advantage over the pirates, that the trumpets of the latter sounded a retreat.
At this signal, a part of the brigands formed in good order in the middle of the square, under the command of Pog. Then they made a vigorous resistance so as to give the other pirates time to transport their booty on board the galleys, and to drag to these vessels the men and women they had captured.
Remaining master of the position that he had defended, Pog covered the entrance of the little street leading to the port, and thus assured the retreat of the band of Trimalcyon, occupied in dragging the captives on board the galleys.
Pog, yielding the ground to his enemies, foot by foot, fell back into the little street, sure that his communication with the port and the galleys could not be intercepted, and that he could effect his reëmbarkation without danger. The street was so narrow that twenty determined men could defend it against ten times the number.
The rumour of the pirates’ retreat was spread through the city, and all the inhabitants who, entrenched in their houses, either from fear or a desire to watch over their dearest interests, had not dared to venture out, now rushed into the streets and joined the combatants, whose number increased in proportion as that of the pirates diminished.
Pog, although wounded in the head and arm, continued his retreat with rare intrepidity.
He was only a few steps from what he believed to be a place of safety. It proved to be otherwise.
The freebooters, who had directed their steps toward the port, in order to regain their galleys, fell into the ambuscade of Captain Georges.
Vigorously attacked by these fresh troops, the pirates fell into disorder in the little street, at the very moment when Pog entered it at the opposite end. Thus, caught in this narrow way, the two outlets of which were obstructed by assailants, the pirates found themselves between two fires.
From the side of the square they were attacked by the baron’s troops; from the side of the port, by the carabineers of Captain Georges.
Trimalcyon remained on board his galley, having that of Pog temporarily under his orders. At some distance from the quay, he awaited the return of the long-boats, which were to bring on board the booty and the pirates.
One of their number, throwing himself in the water, went to inform him of the danger which threatened his companions. Then Trimalcyon resorted to extreme measures. He had the irons removed from a part of the crew, armed them, and approached his galleys so near the quay that their beak-heads served as a landing-place, and at the head of this reinforcement, he, uttering a wild cry, threw himself upon the soldiers of Captain Georges, who in his turn found himself between two fires. Fog’s company, which had kept the street, sure of being supported, made a last effort against the carabineers, already attacked behind by Trimalcyon, cut their way through, operating in union with Trimalcyon’s men, and after a great loss, succeeded in gaining their vessels, carrying with them several prisoners, among whom were Master Isnard and his clerk.
The boldest of the sailors and citizens, and almost all of the carabineers of Captain Georges, jumped into their boats to pursue the pirates.
Unfortunately the advantage was on the side of the galleys.
Their ten pieces of artillery struck the boats which tried to approach them. Then the galley, by vigorous use of oars, rapidly gained the outlet of the port, and prepared to double the point of Verte Island.
Pog was standing in the stem of the Red Galleon; he was pale, his hair and his clothes were full of blood; he threw a look of sullen triumph on the flames which continued to rise in the centre of the city.
Suddenly a cannon-shot resounded; a ball whistled above his head, and carried off a part of his galley’s stem. He turned around quickly. A second ball killed four of the galley-slaves and tore away the first seat of the rowers.
By a little cloud of whitish smoke which crowned the embattled terrace of Maison-Forte, that could be seen in the distance by moonlight, the pirate recognised the spot whence these projectiles were sent.
From his acquaintance with the habits of war, he perceived, from the great distance at which these missiles were fired, that they must have been shot by a culverin of large calibre, and consequently he could not return the fire, as the artillery of the Red Galleon was unable to carry to such a distance.
These first shots were followed by several others, not less happy, which caused considerable damage either on board the Red Galleon or the Sybarite.
“Hell and damnation!” cried Pog. “So long as we do not double the point of the bay, we will be under the fire of that hovel! Ply your oars faster, dogs,” cried he, addressing the crew. “Ply your oars faster, I tell you, or when I reach Tripoli, I will have your arms cut off to the shoulder!”
The crew had no need of that encouragement to redouble their efforts; the dead bodies of slaves killed by the cannon-balls, and still chained to the benches where their companions were rowing, proved to them the danger of remaining under the fire of that murderous culverin.
That piece, however, continued to aim with such marvellous accuracy, that it sent several balls on board the two galleys.
“Death and fury!” cried Pog, “once out of this channel I will go and anchor at the foot of the rocks within half-range of the musket, and there shall not remain one stone on another of the house where that culverin is in battery.”
“Impossible, Captain Pog,” said a Frenchman, a renegade Provençal, who served as pilot. “The Black Rocks extend between wind and water more than half a league from the coast, and you would be sure to lose your galley, if you tried to come nearer to Maison-Forte.”
The pirate made a gesture of rage, and promenaded the deck in great agitation.
Finally the two galleys got out of the dangerous pass where they had been caught.
The artillery of Maison-Forte had disabled many men, and had damaged them to such a degree that they would be compelled to anchor promptly in some harbour on the coast, before they would be able to set sail for Tripoli.
The Sybarite had received several shots below her water-line, and the Red Galleon had her tree cut in two.
When they had doubled the promontory of Cape l’Aigle, the master carpenter of the galley, a renegade Calabrian, a good sailor and a man of great courage, came forward with a solemn air to Pog-Reis, and said: “Captain, I have daubed as much as I possibly can the damages in the peel, but they are too large, and a thorough refitting is absolutely necessary, for if we have stormy weather, we will not stand the sea two hours with such injuries.”
Pog made no reply, but continued walking the deck with agitation; then he called the pilot and said to him: “Can we not anchor a day or two in the islands of Ste. Marguerite or St Honorât? They say these islands are not armed. You left the coast a year ago; is it true?”
“It is true,” answered the pilot “There ought to be good anchorage in the isles of Pieres and St. Feriol, on the windward of St. Honorât?” asked Pog, who was acquainted with these islands.
“Yes, captain, the coast is so high, and the harbour so protected by the rocks which form these islands, that the galleys will be hidden better there than at Port-Cros.”
“There are not, I believe, fifty inhabitants on the island?” asked Pog.
“Not more, captain, and twenty men at the outside; there is besides a very convenient shore for careening the ship.”
“Then steer for those islands; we ought to be about twenty-five leagues distant.”
“Thirty leagues, captain.”
“That is a great deal for the damage we have sustained, but it is, however, our surest place to put in. We will be there in a day if the wind is favourable.”
The galley of Trimalcyon, as well as the chebec, followed the manoeuvres of the Red Galleon, and the three vessels crowded sail toward the island of St Honorât, situated on the coast of Provence, a short distance from Cannes.
These orders given, Pog estimated the losses sustained by his crew; they were quite numerous. Sixteen soldiers had been killed in La Ciotat, and there were a great many wounded men on board.
Besides, the culverin of Maison-Forte had, as we have seen, killed four of the galley-slaves.
They unchained the bodies and threw them into the sea, and replaced them with five soldiers.
The wounded were more or less cared for by a Moor, who performed the functions of surgeon.
Pog had two wounds; one in the head, the other in the arm.
The baron’s spear had given this last wound, which was very deep, but the one in his head was comparatively insignificant.
The Moor who discharged the duties of surgeon had just completed the first dressing of these wounds, when the chebec of Erebus, under full sail, approached the galley of Pog, and ranged herself within reach of his voice.
We will now retrace our steps in order to inform the reader what were the manoeuvres of this chebec, during the attack on La Ciotat, in which it took no part. We will also tell how Reine des Anbiez fell into the power of Erebus.
The Bohemian, after having put the watchman to sleep by means of a narcotic, descended to the shore, and reached the point of land behind which the galleys and the chebec of the pirates awaited his arrival, conformable to the instructions he had sent to Pog-Reis by a second pigeon.
Hadji, in spite of the cold, bravely plunged into the water and soon reached the Red Galleon, which was resting on her oars a little distance from the coast.
After a long conversation with Pog-Reis, to whom he gave the necessary information to assure the success of his descent upon La Ciotat, the Bohemian, following the orders of Pog, returned on board the chebec commanded by Erebus.
This vessel was to take no part in the action, but was to approach Maison-Forte in order to assist in the abduction of Reine des Anbiez.
As soon as the young girl was in the power of Erebus, the chebec had the order, to give the signal, upon which the galleys of the pirates would begin their attack upon the city.
During the combat the chebec was to serve as light-ship and cruiser at large, so as to give the alarm to the pirates if by chance the royal galleys of the Duke de Brézé appeared in the west.
These plans agreed upon, the chebec, separating herself from the galleys, and doubling the promontory, under the guidance of the Bohemian, who was well acquainted with the localities, advanced toward the belt of rocks which extended at the foot of Maison-Forte.
As a consequence of his conversation with Pog the day before, Erebus had taken a fit of the most profound sadness.
In one of those frequent and bitter moments of introspection, he had seen his conduct in its true light; he was moved to pity as he thought of the misfortunes soon to befall this defenceless city, and when the posts of action were being distributed, he had formally declared to Pog that he would take no part in this new deed of robbery.
Pog, who always urged him to evil, did not oppose this resolution, but even encouraged it, and advised Erebus to take advantage of this opportunity to abduct Mile, des Anbiez.
As a necessary sequence he left him all liberty of manoeuvre to execute this project.
Erebus accepted; he had his designs.
Since his first singular meeting with Reine, since, especially, the report of Hadji had made him believe that he was loved, his passion for the young girl had increased with each day of his life.
The Bohemian, in praising to him the sweetness, the charms, the mind, and the loftiness of character possessed by Mlle, des Anbiez, had aroused in his soul the noblest although the most undefined hopes.
His last conversation with Pog decided him to risk everything to realise those hopes.
He had often heard Pog give vent to his cruel misanthropy, but never had the wickedness of the man, the baseness of the motives which instigated and controlled his actions, been so revealed, and finding he was not bound to him by any tie which demanded his respect, he resolved to avail himself of the first opportunity which offered to escape his influence.
He affected, then, some hours before the enterprise which was designed to lay La Ciotat in ruins, a brutal and licentious gaiety.
Pog was, or appeared to be, the dupe of these demonstrations. As we have said, he gave Erebus entire liberty to conduct the abduction of Reine, and Erebus, eager to profit from this permission, confided his plans to Hadji, from whom he received valuable suggestions.
Doubtless his action was criminal, but the unhappy young man, reared, as we may say, outside the pale of society, knowing only the intensity of his own desires, loving passionately and believing himself not less passionately loved, could not hesitate a moment before this determination.
As soon as they came in sight of Maison-Forte, the chebec lay to, and Erebus descended into a small boat with Hadji and four capable rowers.
The Bohemian had profited from his sojourn on the coast, and thus directed the little craft across the reefs and quicksands until it was moored under the shelter of a rock.
At this moment the guests of Raimond V. had just left him, the Christmas feast being ended, and the recorder Isnard, assisted by Captain Georges, had not arrived to arrest the old gentleman.
Erebus, Hadji, and the four rowers landed and cautiously advanced to the foot of the embattled walls of Maison-Forte.
It will be remembered that the Bohemian had often scaled these walls in order to exhibit his agility before the eyes of Stephanette and Reine.
The moon was shining, but the shadow projected by the massive buildings of Maison-Forte had covered the descent and march of the six pirates.
A sentinel who promenaded the terrace perceived nothing.
The windows in the gallery of the castle flamed with light, but those belonging to Reine’s oratory were dark.
Hadji thought very naturally that Mlle, des Anbiez had not yet retired to her apartments.
He proposed to Erebus to wait until Reine should return to her oratory, then scale the wall, stab the sentinel, and, once masters of the terrace, climb up to the balcony as he had often done during his stay at Maison-Forte.
The window could be broken open, and the cries of Mlle, des Anbiez could be stifled by gagging her. The descent from the window to the terrace was comparatively easy, and from the terrace to the rocks. The girl could be carried down by mean of a sort of girdle, contrived for the landing or embarking of recalcitrant slaves, with which the Bohemian was provisionally furnished.
In case of alarm, the pirates relied upon their address and intrepidity to make good their escape to the boat before the inmates of Maison-Forte could reach them.
The plan was accepted by Erebus, who only opposed the murder of the sentinel. To that he would not give his consent.
The four pirates then prepared to scale the walls, leaving two rowers in the boat. The sentinel was walking on the side opposite to that on which they intended to climb to the terrace.
Hadji, followed by one of his companions, climbed the wall with the aid of holes which time had worn, and the long branches of ivy which had taken root in the hollows of the stones.
Having reached the summit of the wall, the pirates perceived, to their great joy, that the sentry-box stood between them and the sentinel, and thus hid them from his view.
The moment was critical. They leaped upon the platform of the fortification. At the instant in which the soldier in his regular march returned to the sentry-box, Hadji and his companion threw themselves on him with the rapidity of lightning.
Hadji placed his two hands over the sentinel’s mouth, while his companion seized his musket; then, by the aid of a gag, called by the pirates a tap, with which the Bohemian was provided, they soon stopped his cries, and fastened his limbs firmly with a long cotton cloth, which they wound around him.
Then Hadji threw a rope ladder to Erebus, who in a moment mounted to the terrace. It was then about one o’clock in the morning.
Hadji knew that the post would not be relieved until two o’clock.
Suddenly a light shone from the windows of Reine’s oratory.
Hidden in the shadow of the sentry-box, Hadji and Erebus deliberated a moment upon what they must do, to accomplish their purpose.
The Bohemian proposed to scale the balcony alone, as its length exceeded by far the breadth of the window-casement, and there to hide and spy through the glass panes, in order to learn the most propitious moment for acting, which he would signify to Erebus by a sign.
The latter adopted the plan, but insisted upon taking part in it.
Hadji climbed up the first, threw the rope ladder to Erebus, and both lay in ambuscade on each side of the casement.
Erebus was just about to look through the panes, when the window-blinds, which were on the outside, opened softly, and Reine walked out on the balcony.
Thus Erebus and Hadji found themselves concealed from sight.
The young girl, sad and anxious, wished to enjoy for awhile the beauty of the night.
Time was precious, and the opportunity favourable, and the same idea entered the minds of the Bohemian and Erebus.
Quickly closing the window-blinds behind Reine, they seized her before she was able to utter a cry.
Imagine her fright, her anguish, when she recognised in her ravisher the stranger of the rocks of Ollioules!
Erebus, in the feeble struggle which occurred between him and the unhappy girl, employed every possible means to prevent violence or injury to the one he loved.
In less time than it requires to write it, Mlle, des Anbiez was surrounded with the girdle, which rendered her incapable of movement.
Erebus, not able to use his hands in descending the rope ladder, since he carried Reine in his arms, made Hadji fasten a rope around his body; as he descended each step of the ladder, the Bohemian let the rope slip softly so as to sustain the ravisher; finally, with Reine in his arms, Erebus reached the foot of the wall.
Hadji, in his turn, was just about to leave the balcony, when Stephanette entered the chamber, crying: “Mademoiselle! mademoiselle! the recorder and his soldiers have come to arrest monseigneur!” For at that moment Master Isnard and Captain Georges had arrived at the castle.
Not finding her mistress in her chamber, and seeing the window open, Stephanette ran thither.
The Bohemian, seeing the danger to which he was exposed by the presence of Stephanette, hid himself again.
The girl, astonished not to find her mistress, went out on the balcony. The Bohemian softly shut the window behind her, and put his hand over her mouth.
Although surprised and frightened, Stephanette made bold efforts to deliver herself from the pirate, who, scarcely able to hold her, cried in a low voice to Erebus:
“Help! help! This she devil is as strong as a little demon; she bites like a wildcat If she cries, all is lost!”
Erebus, not willing to leave Reine, ordered the other pirate to go to the help of Hadji.
In fact, Stephanette, much more robust than her mistress, and having habits calculated to develop her strength, made a heroic and vigorous resistance; she even succeeded in making use of her pretty teeth, to make Hadji relinquish his prize, and in uttering a few cries.
Unfortunately, the window was closed and her calls for help were not heard.
The second pirate came to the aid of the Bohemian, and, in spite of her efforts, the betrothed of the worthy Captain Trinquetaille shared the fate of her mistress, and was lowered down to the terrace with much less ceremony.
Having gained the platform of the rampart, the enterprise met with no other serious difficulty, and the two young girls were carried down the length of the wall with the same means and precautions which accomplished their descent from the balcony.
Erebus and Hadji gained the long-boat which awaited them, and the two captives were on board the chebec without a suspicion having entered the thought of a single inmate of Maison-Forte.
All, up to that time, had transpired according to the will of Erebus.
Reine and Stephanette, released from their bonds, were respectfully deposited in the cabin of the chebec, which Erebus had arranged with the most scrupulous care.
The first feeling of alarm and amazement past, Reine recovered her wonted firmness and dignity of character.
Stephanette, on the contrary, after having valiantly resisted, yielded to a grief which was nothing less than desperate.
When Erebus presented himself, she threw herself on her knees before him, weeping in anguish.
Reine preserved a gloomy silence, and did not deign even to look at her captor.
Erebus then began to be frightened at the success of his venture. He was still under the influence of good and bad instincts which struggled within him for mastery. He was not an audacious ravisher; he was a timid child.
The sullen silence, the dignified and grieved manner of Reine, impressed him and pained him at the same time.
Hadji, during the whole time of their fatal expedition, had constantly repeated to Erebus that Reine loved him passionately, and that the first moment of shame and anger past, he would find the young girl full of tenderness and even gratitude. Making one courageous effort, he approached Reine with an insolent ease of manner and said to her:
“After the storm, the sunshine. To-morrow you will think only of the song of the emir, and my love will dry your tears.”
As he said these words, he tried to take one of Reine’s hands, which she kept over her face.
“Wretch! do not come near me!” cried she, repulsing him with horror, and looking at him so disdainfully that Erebus did not dare take another step.
A veil fell from his eyes. The accent, the emotion, the indignation of Reine were so sincere that, in an instant, he lost all hope. He saw, or rather believed, that he had been grossly deceived, that the young girl had no affection for him.
In his painful surprise, he fell on his knees before Reine and, with clasped hands, cried, in a pathetic voice:
“You do not love me then?”
“You—you—-”
“Oh, forgive me, forgive me, mademoiselle,” continued Erebus, on his knees, with his hands clasped, and he added with charming ingenuousness: “My God! forgive me, I thought you loved me. Ah, well! no, no, do not be angry! I believed it,—the Bohemian told me so; if he had not, I should never have done what I have done.”
But for the gravity of the occasion, one would have laughed to see this young pirate, lately so bold, so resolute, trembling and lowering his eyes before the angry glance of Reine.
Stephanette, struck with this contrast, in spite of her grief, could not help saying:
“Why, to hear him, one would think it was the waggish trick of a page, about some stolen ribbon or bouquet! Fie, fie, sir, you are a pagan, a monster!”
“Ah, how dreadful—how dreadful! And my father, my poor father!” cried Reine, bursting into tears.
This sincere sorrow tore the heart of Erebus; he felt the whole extent of his crime.
“Oh! for pity—for pity’s sake, do not weep so!” cried he, his own eyes full of tears. “I see my wrongs now. Tell me, what do you wish me to do to expiate them? I will do it,—command me,’—my life is yours.” “Then send me back to my father, this very instant. My father, my father! if he knows of this capture, what a terrible blow for him! It is a crime for which you will always have to reproach yourself.”
“Spurn me,—I deserve it,—but at least do not forget that I saved the life of your father.”
“And what matters that, since you have saved it only to make him so wretched now? I shall think of you henceforth, not to bless you, but to curse you—”
“No, no!” cried Erebus, rising to his feet. “No, you will not curse me! You will say, yes, you will soon say that your words have snatched an unhappy soul from the abyss which was about to engulf it for ever. Listen to me. This city is now happy and peaceful. The pirates are near: let the signal be given from this chebec,—death, pillage, and flames will desolate this coast—”
“My God! my God! oh, my father!” cried Reine.
“Take courage, that signal shall not be given. I will save this city. You are in my power, and this very hour, I will have you carried back to land. Ah, well, then say—oh, say, if I do that,” implored Erebus, with profound sadness, “will you think of me sometimes without anger and without contempt?”
“I will never thank God, for having restored me to my father, without thinking with gratitude of the saviour of the Baron des Anbiez,” said Reine, with dignity.
“And Erebus shall be worthy of your remembrance!” cried the young pirate. “I am going now to prepare for your departure, and I shall return for you.”
He went up on deck in haste. The chebec was lying to. The two galleys could be seen in the distance. Although the chebec belonged to Pog-Reis, Erebus had commanded the vessel for three years. He believed that he had won the affection of the whole crew. When he reached the deck, he saw Hadji in the act of lighting a fuse, the signal agreed upon between Pog and Erebus, to announce that Mlle, des Anbiez was on board the chebec, and therefore the attack on La Ciotat could begin.
“Stop,” said Erebus to Hadji, “do not give the signal yet. For a long time you have been devoted to me; today, especially, you have served me faithfully. Listen to me now.”
“Speak quickly, Lord Erebus, for Pog-Reis is waiting for the signal, and if I delay to give it, he will make me ride the chase-gun on his galley, with a ball on each foot to hold me in position.”
“If you obey me, you will have nothing to fear. This life of murder and robbery is hateful to me; the men that I command are less brutal than their companions; they love me; they have confidence in me; I can propose to them to abandon the galleys. The chebec is superior to the galleys in speed. After the expedition of which I will tell you presently, we will set sail for the East,—the Grecian Archipelago; when we arrive at Smyrna, we will put ourselves in the pay of the bey, and instead of being pirates, we will become soldiers; instead of cutting the throats of merchants on the deck of their vessels, we will fight men. Will you second me?” Hadji had kept the lighted match in his hand; holding it to his mouth, he brightened the flame with imperturbable coolness, and said to Erebus:
“Are those all the plans you have, Lord Erebus?”
“No, they are not all. To prevent the new crimes contemplated by Pog-Reis, we are going to approach the galleys under full sail, and cry with fright that we have just seen, on the horizon, the fires of the king’s galleys. They know that the galleys of the King of France are at Marseilles, and dread their coming, and so will easily believe us. Pog-Reis will take flight before these superior forces, and this unfortunate city will escape, at least for this time, the horrible fate which threatens it. Ah, well, what do you say to my plan? You have influence over the crew, second me.”
Hadji blew his match again, looked at Erebus steadily, and for reply, before the latter could prevent it, set fire to the fuse which was to serve as a signal for the attack of the pirates.
The fatal light darted into space like a meteor.
“Wretch!” cried Erebus, throwing himself on Hadji with rage.
Hadji, with strength superior to that of the young man, wrested himself from his hands, and said to him, with mingled irony, respect, and affection:
“Listen, Lord Erebus; neither I nor these brave men have any desire to exchange our liberty for the discipline of the bey’s soldiers. The sea in all its immensity is ours; we would be the proud courser that has the limitless desert for his career, rather than the blindfolded horse that turns the machinery to draw water from a well. Now the service of beyliks, compared to our adventurous life, is nothing more. In a word, we are devils, and we are not old enough yet to become hermits, as the Christians say. Our trade pleases us. We will not give up liberty for a prison.”
“So be it; you are a hardened villain, I believed you had nobler sentiments. But so much the worse for you; the crew is attached to me, they will listen to me and will give me a strong hand to get rid of you, if you dare oppose my plans.”
“By Eblis! what are you saying, Lord Erebus?” cried the Bohemian, with an ironical air. “You treat me so, I, who, to serve you, sang to your lady-love the song of the emir! I, who demeaned myself to the low trade of a tinker! I, who defiled myself by helping Dame Dulceline raise a sort of altar to the God of the Christians! I, who, to serve you, set the foot of the greyhound belonging to Raimond V. and even consented to shoe the old sot’s horse!”
“Be silent, you scoundrel! not a word more of that unhappy father to whom I have given such a cruel blow! Reflect well, I am going to speak to the crew, whatever it may cost me; there is still time for you to rally to my aid and become an honest man.”
“Listen, my Lord Erebus; you propose to me to become an honest man. I shall reply to you as a poet and a tinker. When for years a thick and corrosive rust has accumulated on a copper vase, and this rust has been bronzed by fire, you may rub a thousand years and more without giving back to this vase its original purity and brilliancy, and at last succeed in making it a little less black only than the wings of Eblis! Ah, well! such as we, I and my companions, we are bronzed by evil. Do not try to entice us to good. You will be neither understood nor obeyed.”
“I shall not be understood, perhaps, but I shall be obeyed.”
“You will not be obeyed if your orders are contrary to certain instructions given by Pog-Reis to the crew before departing from Port-Cros.”
“Instructions? You lie like a dog!”
“Listen, my Lord Erebus,” said Hadji, with unalterable coolness; “although I do not wish to enter into the good road, I love you in my fashion, and I would wish to prevent your taking a false step. Pog-Reis, after a certain conversation with you, which he told me, distrusts you. A little while ago, when on the height of Cape l’Aigle, where I put the old watchman to sleep, I saw our galleys coming, I descended to the shore and went on board the Red Galleon, and there I had a secret conversation about you with Pog-Reis.” “Traitor! why have you concealed that from me?” “The wise man hides three things for every two he tells. Pog-Reis told me he had informed the crew, and he did inform me that the orders which he had given you were these: carry off the young girl, give a signal that the abduction has been successful, then cruise around La Ciotat while the galleys are attacking that swarm of fat citizens; lastly, watch that our men are not surprised by the galleys of the King of France, coming from the west,—is that true?”
“That is true.”
“Ah, well, then, Lord Erebus, I tell you that if the orders you are going to give are contrary to those, they will not listen to you.”
“That is a lie!”
“Try it.”
“This very instant,” said Erebus, and turning to the steersman and sailors who awaited his orders, he commanded them to make a manoeuvre which would bring the chebec nearer to Maison-Forte.
What was his astonishment when, instead of executing his orders, he saw the steersman and sailors, at a sign from Hadji, make a contrary manoeuvre, which brought the chebec nearer the place of action.
“You refuse to obey me!” cried Erebus.
“Ah, well! Lord Erebus, what did I tell you?”
“Not a word from you, scoundrel!”
Erebus tried in vain to shake the fidelity of the sailors; whether from terror, or the habit of passive obedience, or from the love of their gross and licentious life, they remained faithful to the orders they had received.
Erebus bowed his head in despair.
“Since you are the commander of this chebec,” said he to Hadji, with a bitter smile, “then I address you to have the sails put back, and have the long-boat which is in tow brought to the side of the vessel.”
“You are the captain here, Lord Erebus; order, without going contrary to the commands of Pog-Reis,—and I will be the first to haul the rigging or turn the helm.”
“A truce to words; then have the long-boat manned with four men.”
“Bring the chebec’s sails back? Nothing prevents that,” said Hadji. “Watch is kept as well standing still as moving about, and from time to time the sentinel stops. As to manning the long-boat, that will be done when I know your intention.”
Erebus stamped his foot impatiently.
“My intention is to conduct these two young girls back to land.”
“Throw back the pearl of the gulf on a savage coast!” cried the Bohemian, “when she is in your power, when you are loved, when—”
“Be silent and obey! That, I think, is my personal affair, and Pog-Reis shall not force me to abduct a woman, if I do not wish to do it.”
“That abduction is a personal affair to Pog-Reis also, Lord Erebus. I cannot order the long-boat to be manned.”
“What do you mean?” cried the young man, almost in fright.
“Pog-Reis is an old stager, Lord Erebus. He knows that, in spite of his strength and courage, the tiger can fall, as well as the stupid buffalo, in the snare that the artful trapper has set for his steps. Eblis has shaken his wings over La Ciotat; the flames crackle, the cannon thunder, the musketry flashes; our people are glutting themselves with pillage and putting the Christians in chains,—that is well. But suppose Pog-Reis, suppose Trimalcyon-Reis should be surprised and taken prisoners by these dogs of Christians! Suppose our people should be obliged to fly back to their galleys and abandon the prisoners, Pog and Trimalcyon, to be quartered and burned as renegades—”
“Will you finish, say, will you finish?”
“By keeping the pearl of La Ciotat, Reine des Anbiez, as hostage, until the end of the enterprise, she can be of great help to us, and be worth to us, by her exchange, the liberty of Pog-Reis, or of Trimalcyon-Reis. So, then, this young girl and her companion must remain here until Pog-Reis has decided their fate.”
Erebus was overwhelmed.
Neither threats nor entreaties could shake the determination of Hadji, or of the crew.
For a moment, in his despair, he was on the point of throwing himself into the sea and swimming to the coast, that he might be killed by the pirates; then he remembered that such a course would leave Reine without a defender. He descended to the cabin in the gloom of despair.
“There is our generous saviour,” cried Reine, rising and walking up to him. Erebus shook his head sadly, and said:
“I am now a prisoner like you.”
And he related to the two young girls what had just transpired on the bridge. One moment calmed by a deceitful assurance, the distress of Reine now burst forth with renewed violence, and notwithstanding the repentance of Erebus, she accused him, with reason, of being the author of the misery which oppressed her.
Such was the state of affairs on board the chebec, when, now commanded by Hadji, since Erebus had joined Reine and Stephanette, it approached the galleys of Pog and Trimalcyon, which, by dint of oars, were leaving La Ciotat after their fatal expedition.
The Bohemian stood at the stem of the chebec, when Pog-Reis, hailing it from his galley, said to him:
“Ah, well! is that girl on board?”
“Yes, Captain Pog, and more, there is a linnet with the dove.”
“And Erebus?”
“Captain Erebus wanted to do what Captain Pog foresaw,” said the Bohemian, making an intelligent sign.
“I expected it Watch him. Keep the command of the chebec, sail in my waters, and follow my manoeuvres.”
“You will be obeyed, Captain Pog. But before parting from you, let me make you a present There are the papers and playthings of love belonging to a chevalier of Malta. It is, I believe, a story worthy of Ben-Absull. I got this treasure-trove from the cabin of the watchman. I thought I had found a diamond, and found only a grain of corn. But it may interest you, Captain Pog. There is a Maltese cross on the casket; everything which bears that hated sign returns to you by right.”