Книга The Buccaneer Chief: A Romance of the Spanish Main - читать онлайн бесплатно, автор Gustave Aimard. Cтраница 3
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The Buccaneer Chief: A Romance of the Spanish Main
The Buccaneer Chief: A Romance of the Spanish Main
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The Buccaneer Chief: A Romance of the Spanish Main

And leaving the proud Spaniard horrified by this fearful anathema, the gentleman quitted the room with a firm step, and taking a last loving glance at the woman he adored, from whom he was perhaps eternally separated.

The passages, stairs, and inn garden were filled with armed men; it was evidently a miracle that the two sailors had succeeded in escaping and getting away safe and sound; this gave the Count, hope and he went down the stairs with an assured step, carefully watched by his escort who did not let him out of sight.

The guards had been long before warned that they would have to do with a naval officer possessing an inordinate violence of character, prodigious vigour and indomitable courage; hence the resignation of the prisoner, which they believed to be assumed, only inspired them with very slight confidence, and they were continually on the defensive.

When they came out into the garden the chief of the exempts noticed the coach, which was still standing at the door.

"Why," he said with a grin and rubbing his hands, "here's the very thing we want. In our hurry to get here, we forgot to provide ourselves with a coach; be good enough to get in, my lord," he said as he opened the door.

The Count got in without any further hesitation; and the exempts then addressed the driver who was sitting motionless on his box.

"Come down, scamp," he said in a tone of authority; "I require the use of this coach for an affair of state. Give up your place to one of my men. Wideawake," he added, turning to a tall impudent looking fellow standing by his side, "get up on the box in that man's place – let us be off."

The driver did not attempt to resist this peremptory order; he descended and his place was immediately taken by Wideawake; the exempt then entered the carriage, seated himself facing his prisoner, closed the door, and the steeds, aroused by a vigorous, lash, dashed forward dragging after them the heavy vehicle round which the twenty odd soldiers were collected.

For a considerable period the coach rolled along without a word being exchanged between the prisoner and his guard.

The Count was thinking, the exempt sleeping, or, to speak more correctly, pretending to sleep.

In the month of March the nights are beginning to shorten; daylight soon appeared, and broad white stripes were beginning to cross the sky.

The Count, who up to this moment had remained motionless, gave a slight start.

"Are you suffering, my lord?" the exempt inquired. This question was addressed to him with an intonation so different from that hitherto employed by the man who had made him prisoner; there was in the sound of his voice an accent so really gentle and sympathizing, that the Count involuntarily started, and took a fixed look at his singular companion: but so far as he could see by the faint light of coming dawn, the man in front of him still had the same crafty face and the same ironical smile stereotyped on his lips. The Count found himself in error, and throwing himself back, merely uttered one word, "No," in a tone intended to break off any attempt at conversation between his guardian and himself.

But the former was probably in a humour for talking, for he would not be checked; and pretending not to remark the manner in which his advances had been received, he continued —

"The nights are still chill, the breeze enters this coach on all sides, and I feared lest the cold had struck you."

"I am habituated to suffer heat and cold," the Count answered; "besides, it is probable that if I have not yet made my apprenticeship, I am about to undergo one which will accustom me to endure everything without complaining."

"Who knows, my lord?" the exempt said, with a shake of the head.

"What?" the other objected, "Am I not condemned to a lengthened captivity in a fortress?"

"Yes, according to the terms of the order, which it is my duty to carry out."

There was a momentary silence. The Count gazed absently at the country which the first beams of day were beginning to illumine. At length he turned to the exempt.

"May I ask whither you are taking me?" he said.

"I see no objection to your doing so."

"And you will answer my question?"

"Why not? There is nothing to prevent it."

"Then we are going?"

"To the isles of St. Marguerite, my lord."

The Count trembled inwardly. The islands of Lerins, or Sainte Marguerite, enjoyed at that time, even, a reputation almost as terrible as the one they acquired at a later date, when they served as a prison to the mysterious iron mask, whom it was forbidden to take even a glance at under penalty of death.

The exempt looked at him fixedly without speaking.

It was the Count who again resumed the conversation.

"Where are we now?" he asked.

The exempt bent out of the window, and then resumed his seat.

"We are just arriving at Corbeil, where we shall change horses."

"Ah!" said the Count.

"If you wish to rest, I can give orders for an hour's stay. Perhaps you feel a want of some refreshment?"

This singular man was gradually acquiring in the Count's eyes all the interest of an enigma.

"Very good," he said.

Without replying the exempt let down the window.

"Wideawake!" he shouted.

"What is the matter?" the latter asked.

"Pull up at the Golden Lion."

"All right."

Ten minutes later the coach halted in the Rue St. Spire, in front of a door over which creaked a sign representing an enormous gilt cat, with one of its paws on a ball. They had arrived.

The exempt got out, followed by the Count, and both entered the inn: one portion of the escort remained in the saddle in the street, while the others dismounted and installed themselves in the common room.

The Count had mechanically followed the exempt, and on reaching the room, seated himself in a chair by the fire, in a first floor decently furnished room. He was too busy with his own thoughts to attach any great attention to what was going on around him.

When the landlord had left them alone, the exempt bolted the door inside, and then placed himself in front of his prisoner.

"Now," he said, "let us speak frankly, my lord."

The latter, astonished at this sudden address, quickly raised his head.

"We have no time to lose in coming to an understanding, sir; so please to listen without interrupting me," the exempt continued. "I am François Bouillot, the younger brother of your foster father. Do you recognise me?"

"No," the Count replied, after examining him attentively for a moment.

"That does not surprise me, for you were only eight years old the last time I had the honor of seeing you at Barmont Castle: but that is of no consequence; I am devoted to you, and wish to save you."

"What assures me that you are really François Bouillot, the brother of my foster father, and that you are not attempting to deceive me?" the Count answered, in a suspicious accent.

The exempt felt in his pocket, pulled out several papers, which he unfolded, and presented them open to the Count.

The latter looked at them mechanically: they consisted of a baptismal certificate, a commission, and several letters proving his identity. The Count handed him the letters back.

"How is it that you should have been the man to arrest me, and arrived so opportunely to aid me?" he asked.

"In a very simple way, my lord: your order of arrest was obtained from the Cardinal Minister by the Dutch Embassy. I was present when M. de Laffemas, a familiar of his Eminence, who is kind to me, left the Palais Cardinal order in hand: I was there, and he chose me. Still, as I was able to decline, I should have done so, had I not seen your name on the paper, and remembered the kindness your family had shown to me and my brother. Taking advantage of the opportunity my profession of exempt offered me, I resolved to repay you what your friends have done for mine, by attempting to save you."

"That does not seem to me very easy, my poor friend."

"More so than you may fancy, my lord: I will leave here one-half our escort, and then only ten will remain with us."

"Hum! That is a very decent number," the Count replied, involuntarily interested.

"They would be too many if there were not among the ten men seven of whom I am certain, which reduces the number of those we have to fear to three. I have been running after you for a long time, my lord," he added, with a laugh, "and all my precautions are taken: through some excuse, easy to be found, we will pass through Toulon, and on arriving there, we will stop for an hour or two at a hostelry I know. You will disguise yourself as a mendicant monk, and leave the inn unnoticed. I will take care to get rid of the guards I am not certain of. You will proceed to the port furnished with papers I will hand you; you will go on board a charming chasse-marée, called the Seamew, which I have freighted on your account, and which is waiting for you. The master will recognise you by a password I will tell you, and you will be at liberty to go whither-soever you please. Is not this plan extremely simple, my lord?" he asked, rubbing his hands joyously, "And have I not foreseen everything?"

"No, my friend," the Count answered with emotion, as he offered him his hand; "there is one more thing you have not foreseen."

"What is that, my lord?" he asked, in surprise.

"That I do not wish to fly," the young man answered, with a melancholy shake of the head.

CHAPTER IV

THE ISLE OF SAINTE MARGUERITE

At this answer, which he was so far from anticipating, the exempt gave a start of surprise, and looked at the Count as if he had not exactly understood him.

The gentleman smiled gently.

"That surprises you, does it not?" he said.

"I confess it, my lord," the other stammered, with embarrassment.

The Count went on:

"Yes," he said, "I can understand your surprise at my refusal to accept your generous proposition. It is not often you find a prisoner to whom liberty is offered, and who insists on remaining a captive. I owe you an explanation of this extraordinary conduct; this explanation I will give you at once, so that you may no longer press me, but leave me to act as I think proper."

"I am only the most humble, of your servants, my lord Count. You doubtless know better than I what your conduct should be under the circumstances, you have therefore no occasion to explain it to me."

"It is precisely because you are an old servant of my family, François Bouillot, and because you are giving me at this moment a proof of unbounded devotion, that I believe myself obliged to tell you the motives for this refusal, which has so many reasons to surprise you. Listen to me, then."

"As you insist, my lord, I obey you."

"Very good, take a chair, and place yourself here by my side, as it is unnecessary for others beside yourself to hear what I am going to say."

The exempt took a stool and seated himself by his master's side, exactly as the latter had ordered, while still keeping up a respectful distance between himself and the gentleman.

"In the first place," the Count resumed, "be thoroughly convinced that if I refuse your offer, it is not through any motive of a personal nature as regards yourself. I have full confidence in you, for nearly 200 years your family has been attached to mine, and we have ever had reason to praise their devotion to our interest. This important point being settled, I will go on. I will suppose for a moment that the plan you have formed is successful, a plan which I will not discuss, although it appears to me very difficult to execute, and the slightest accident might, at the last moment, compromise its issue. What will happen? Forced to fly without resources, without friends, I should not only be unable to take the revenge I meditate upon my enemies, but surrendered, so to speak, to their mercy, I should speedily fall into their hands again, and thus become the laughing stock of those whom I hate. I should be dishonoured; they will despise me, and I shall have but one way of escape from a life henceforth rendered useless, as all my plans would be overthrown, and that is blowing out my brains."

"Oh! my lord!" Bouillot exclaimed, clasping his hands.

"I do not wish to fall," the Count continued imperturbably, "in the terrible struggle which has this day begun between my enemies and myself. I have taken an oath, and that oath I will keep, regardless of the consequences. I am young, hardly twenty-five years of age; up to the present, life has only been one long joy for me, and I have succeeded in everything, plans of ambition, fortune and love. Today misfortune has come to lay its hand on me, and it is welcome; for the man who has not suffered is not a perfect man; grief purifies the mind and tempers the heart. Solitude is a good councillor; it makes a man comprehend the nothingness of small things, expands the ideas, and prepares grand conceptions. I require to steel myself through sorrow, in order to be able one day to repay my enemies a hundredfold all that I have suffered at their hands. It is by thinking over my broken career and my ruined future, that I shall find the necessary strength to accomplish my vengeance. When my heart is dead to every other feeling but that of the hatred which will entirely occupy it, I shall be able pitilessly to trample underfoot all those who today laugh at me and believe they have crushed me, because they have hurled me down; and then I shall be really a man, and woe to those who try to measure their strength with mine. You tremble at what I am saying to you at this moment, my old servant," he added more gently, "what would it be were you able to read in my heart all the hatred, auger, and rage it contains against those who have mercilessly ground me beneath their heel, and who have eternally deprived me of happiness, in order to satisfy the paltry calculations of a narrow and criminal ambition?"

"Oh, my lord Count! Permit an old servant of your family, a man who is entirely devoted to you, to implore you to resign these fearful schemes of vengeance. Alas! You will be the first victim of your hatred."

"Have you forgotten, Bouillot," the Count replied ironically, "what is said in our country, about the members of the family to which I have the honor of belonging?"

"Yes, yes, my lord," he said with a melancholy shake of the head; "I remember it, and will repeat it if you wish."

"Do so."

"Well, my lord, the distich is as follows – "

"'The Counts of Barmont Senectaire, Demon-hate and heart of stone.'"

The Count smiled.

"Well do you fancy that I have degenerated from my ancestors?"

"I suppose nothing, sir, Heaven forbid!" he answered humbly, "I only see with terror that you are preparing a hideous future for yourself."

"Be it so! I accept it in all its rigor, if God will permit me to accomplish my oath."

"Alas! My lord, you know that man proposes; you are at this moment a prisoner of the Cardinal; reflect, I implore you, who knows whether you will ever leave the prison to which I am conducting you? Consent to be free."

"No; cease your entreaties! The Cardinal is not immortal. If not before, my liberty will be restored me on his death, which cannot be long deferred, I hope. And now carefully bear this in mind, my resolution is so fixed, that if in spite of my orders you abandon me here, at the inn where we now are, the first use I should make of the liberty you have given me back, would be to go at once and surrender myself into the hands of his Eminence; you understand me thoroughly, I suppose?"

The old servant bowed his head without answering, and two tears slowly ran down his cheeks.

This dumb grief, so true and so touching, affected the Count more than he would have supposed; he rose, took the poor fellow's hand and shook it several times.

"Let us say no more about this, Bouillot," he remarked to him affectionately, "although I will not profit by it, your devotion has deeply affected me, and I will ever feel eternally grateful to you for it. Come, my old friend, let us not grow foolish; we are men and not childish poltroons, confound it."

"Well, no matter, my lord, I do not consider myself beaten," the exempt replied, as he threw himself into the arms open to receive him; "you cannot prevent me from watching over you, whether near or afar."

"That I do not oppose, my friend," the Count replied with a laugh; "do as you please; besides," he added seriously, "I confess that I shall not be sorry when I am sequestered from the world to know what is going on, and to be kept informed, of passing events; some unforeseen fact might occur which would modify my intentions and make me desire the recovery of my liberty."

"Oh, be sure of that, my lord," he exclaimed, pleased at this quasi victory and conditional promise, "I will arrange so that you shall not be at a loss for news; I have not served his Eminence for six years for nothing; the Cardinal is a good master, I have profited by his teaching, and know several tricks; you shall see me at work."

"Well, that is agreed, and we understand each other now. I think it would be wise to breakfast before continuing our journey, for I feel an appetite that greatly requires appeasing."

"I will give the landlord orders to serve you at once, my lord."

"You will breakfast with me, Bouillot," he said as he gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder; "and I hope it will be always so, until our arrival at the Isle of St. Marguerite."

"It is certainly a great honour for me, sir, but – "

"I expect it; besides are you not almost a member of my family?"

François Bouillot bowed and left the room; after ordering a copious breakfast, he commanded one part of the escort back to Paris; then he returned to the room, followed by the landlord, who, in a second, covered the table with all that was wanted to make a good meal, and withdrew discreetly, leaving his guests to attack the dishes placed before them.

The journey was continued without any incident worthy of note.

The prisoner's conversation with his keeper had been decisive; the latter was too well acquainted with the character of the man with whom he had to deal to attempt to revert to a subject which had been so distinctly disposed of on the first occasion.

At the period when our history takes place, France was not as now intersected by magnificent roads, and the shortest journey demanded an enormous expenditure of time; the coaches, heavy vehicles badly built and worse horsed, had great difficulty in resisting the numerous joltings and the ruts in which they were for the greater portion of the time buried up to the axletree, and hence, in spite of the speed employed, seventeen days elapsed ere the prisoner and his escort arrived at Toulon.

This town was even at that early period one of the principal military ports of France, and the Count felt an indescribable pang at heart when he entered it.

It was in this town that his naval career had begun, here for the first time he had set foot aboard a vessel with the rank of midshipman, and had undergone the preparatory trials of that rude naval profession, in which, in spite of his youth, he soon attained a great reputation and almost celebrity.

The coach stopped in the Haymarket, in front of the "Cross of Malta," probably the oldest inn in France, for it is still in existence, although it has undergone many indispensable changes both internally and externally.

So soon as he had installed his prisoner comfortably in the Inn, François Bouillot went out.

If he placed a sentry before the Count's door, it was rather in obedience to his duty, than through any fear of escape, for he had not even taken the trouble to lock the door, so convinced was he beforehand that unfortunately his prisoner would not attempt to pass out of it.

He remained away for about two hours.

"You have been absent a long time," the Count remarked on his return.

"I had some important business to settle," he replied.

The Count, without adding a word, resumed his walk up and down the room which Bouillot's return had interrupted.

There was a momentary silence, Bouillot was evidently embarrassed, he went about the room, pretending to arrange sundry articles of furniture, and disarranging everything; at last seeing that the Count obstinately remained silent and would not perceive that he was in the room, he placed himself in front of him so as to bar his passage, and looked at him intently as he whispered with a stress on the words.

"You do not ask where I have been."

"What is the use?" the Count replied carelessly; "About your own business, of course."

"No, my lord, about yours."

"Ah!" he said.

"Yes, the Seamew awaits you."

The Count smiled and slightly shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah, ah, you are still thinking of that; I believed, my dear Bouillot, that it was arranged between us that we should not return to this subject. That was the reason, then, that you lengthened our journey, by making us pass through Toulon, at which I felt surprised. I could not account for the strange itinerary you were following."

"My lord," he muttered, clasping his hands imploringly.

"Come, you are mad, my dear Bouillot, you ought to know by this time, though, that when I have formed a resolution, good or bad, I never alter it; so no more of this, I beg, it would be quite useless. I pledge you my word as a gentleman."

The old servant uttered a groan that resembled a death rattle.

"Your will be done, my lord," he stammered. "When do we start for Antibes?"

"At once, if you wish it."

"Very good, the sooner the better."

After bowing, the exempt left the room to make all preparations for departure.

As we see, the parts were completely introverted, it was the prisoner who gave orders to his keeper.

One hour later, in fact, the Count quitted Toulon. All along the road the two men, constantly companions, and eating and drinking together, conversed about indifferent matters. Bouillot had at last recognized the fact that it was useless to make any further effort to induce the Count to escape; still he had not given up his scheme, but merely deferred it till a more distant period, reckoning as an ally the annoyance of a prolonged detention, and an inactive and useless life upon an organization so impetuous as that of the prisoner.

So soon as he arrived at Antibes, by the express command of the Count, who seemed to take a certain pleasure in tormenting him, he set out in search of some boat to carry them across to Sainte Marguerite.

His search was neither long nor difficult; as bearer of a Cardinal's order, he laid an embargo on the first fishing boat he came across, and embarked aboard it with all his people.

On leaving the mainland, the Count turned, and a smile of peculiar meaning played round his lips.

Bouillot, deceived by this smile, whose secret intention he did not penetrate, bent down to the Count's ear.

"If you like, there is still time," he whispered.

The Count looked at him, shrugged his shoulders, and without replying, sat down in the stern of the boat.

"Push off," Bouillot then shouted to the master.

The latter seized his boathook, and they were soon under weigh.

The Lerins islands form a group composed of several rocks, and two islands surrounded by shoals; the first known as Isle Sainte Marguerite, the second as Saint Honorat.

At the period of our narration only the first was fortified; the other, inhabited by a few fishermen, merely contained the still considerable ruins of the monastery founded by Saint Honorat circa the year 400.

The Sainte Marguerite island was uninhabited, flat, and only offering along its entire coast, one very unsafe creek for vessels. Although it is extremely fertile, and pomegranates, orange and fig trees, grow there in the open air, no one had thought of taking up his abode there, and we are not aware whether a change has since taken place.

A very important fortress, which, at a later date, attained a melancholy reputation as a state prison, was erected on the island, the greater portion of which it occupied.

This fort was composed of three towers, connected together by terraces, which time had covered with a yellowish moss, while a wide deep moat surrounded the walls.

A few years prior to the beginning of our story, in 1635, the Spaniards had seized it by surprise.