Books: A Modern Telemachus
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> A Modern Telemachus
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'With my very heart's blood, Madame.'
'I hope that may not be asked of you, Monsieur,' she returned with a
faint smile,--'though I fear there may be much of perplexity and
difficulty in the way before again rejoining him. You see where I have
placed our passports? My daughter knows it likewise; but in case of
their being taken from you, or any other accident happening to you, I
have written these two letters, which you had better bear about your
person. One is, as you see, to our Consul at Algiers, and may serve as
credentials; the other is to my husband, to whom I have already written
respecting you.'
'A thousand thanks, Madame,' returned Arthur. 'But I hope and trust we
may all reach M. le Comte in safety together. You yourself said that
you expected only a brief detention before he could be communicated
with, and this captain, renegade though he be, evidently has a respect
for you.'
'That is quite true,' she returned, 'and it may only be my foolish
heart that forebodes evil; nevertheless, I cannot but recollect that
c'est l'imprevu qui arrive.'
'Then, Madame, that is the very reason there should be no misfortune,'
returned Arthur.
It was on the second day after the capture of the tartane that the sun
set in a purple angry-looking bank of cloud, and the sea began to heave
in a manner which renewed the earlier distresses of the voyage to such
as were bad sailors. The sails both of the corsair and of the tartane
were taken in, and it was plain that a rough night was to be expected.
The children were lashed into their berths, and all prepared themselves
to endure. The last time Arthur saw Madame de Bourke's face, by the
light of the lamp swinging furiously from the cabin roof, as he
assisted in putting in the dead lights, it bore the same fixed
expression of fortitude and resignation as when she was preparing to be
boarded by the pirates.
He remained on deck, but it was very perilous, for the vessel was so
low in the water that the waves dashed over it so wildly that he could
hardly help being swept away. It was pitch dark, too, and the lantern
of the other vessel could only just be seen, now high above their
heads, now sinking in the trouble of the sea, while the little tartane
was lifted up as though on a mountain; and in a kind of giddy dream, he
thought of falling headlong upon her deck. Finally he found himself
falling. Was he washed overboard? No; a sharp blow showed him that he
had only fallen down the hatchway, and after lying still a moment, he
heard the voices of Lanty and Hebert, and presently they were all
tossed together by another lurch of the ship.
It was a night of miseries that seemed endless, and when a certain
amount of light appeared, and Arthur and Lanty crawled upon deck, the
tempest was unabated. They found themselves still dashed, as if their
vessel were a mere cork, on the huge waves; rushes of water coming over
them, whether from sea or sky there was no knowing, for all seemed
blended together in one mass of dark lurid gray; and where was the
Algerine ship--so lately their great enemy, now watched for as their
guide and guardian?
It was no place nor time for questions, even could they have been heard
or understood. It was scarcely possible even to be heard by one
another, and it was some time before they convinced themselves that the
large vessel had disappeared. The cable must have parted in the night,
and they were running with bare poles before the gale; the seamanship
of the man at the helm being confined to avoiding the more direct blows
of the waves, on the huge crests of which the little tartane rode--
gallantly perhaps in mariners' eyes, but very wretchedly to the
feelings of the unhappy landsmen within her.
Arthur thought of St. Paul, and remembered with dismay that it was many
days before sun or moon appeared. He managed to communicate his
recollection to Lanty, who exclaimed, 'And he was a holy man, and he
was a prisoner too. He will feel for us if any man can in this sore
strait! Sancte Paule, ora pro nobis. An' haven't I got the blessed
scapulary about me neck that will bring me through worse than this?'
The three managed to get down to tell the unfortunate inmates of the
cabin what was the state of things, and to carry them some food, though
at the expense of many falls and severe blows; and almost all of them
were too faint or nauseated to be able to swallow such food as could
survive the transport under such circumstances. Yet high-spirited
little Estelle entreated to be carried on deck, to see what a storm was
like. She had read of them so often, and wanted to see as well as to
feel. She was almost ready to cry when Arthur assured her it was quite
impossible, and her mother added a grave order not to trouble him.
Madame de Bourke looked so exhausted by the continual buffeting and the
closeness of the cabin, and her voice was so weak, that Arthur grieved
over the impossibility of giving her any air. Julienne tried to make
her swallow some eau de vie; but the effort of steadying her hand
seemed too much for her, and after a terrible lurch of the ship, which
lodged the poor bonne in the opposite corner of the cabin, the lady
shook her head and gave up the attempt. Indeed, she seemed so worn out
that Arthur--little used to the sight of fainting--began to fear that
her forebodings of dying before she could rejoin her husband were on
the point of being realised.
However, the gale abated towards evening, and the youth himself was so
much worn out that the first respite was spent in sleep. When he
awoke, the sea was much calmer, and the eastern sun was rising in glory
over it; the Turks, with their prayer carpets in a line, were
simultaneously kneeling and bowing in prayer, with their faces turned
towards it. Lanty uttered an only too emphatic curse upon the
misbelievers, and Arthur vainly tried to make him believe that their
'Allah il Allah' was neither addressed to Mohammed nor the sun.
'Sure and if not, why did they make their obeisance to it all one as
the Persians in the big history-book Master Phelim had at school?'
'It's to the east they turn Lanty, not to the sun.'
'And what right have the haythen spalpeens to turn to the east like
good Christians?'
''Tis to their Prophet's tomb they look, at Mecca.'
'There, an' I tould you they were no better than haythens,' returned
Lanty, 'to be praying and knocking their heads on the bare boards--that
have as much sense as they have--to a dead man's tomb.'
Arthur's Scotch mind thought the Moors might have had the best of it in
argument when he recollected Lanty's trust in his scapulary.
They tried to hold a conversation with the Reis, between lingua Franca
and the Provencal of the renegade; and they came to the conclusion that
no one had the least idea where they were, or where they were going;
the ship's compass had been broken in the boarding, and there was no
chart more available than the little map in the beginning of Estelle's
precious copy of Telemaque. The Turkish Reis did not trouble himself
about it, but squatted himself down with his chibouque, abandoning all
guidance of the ship, and letting her drift at the will of wind and
wave, or, as he said, the will of Allah. When asked where he thought
she was going, he replied with solemn indifference, 'Kismet;' and all
the survivors of the crew--for one had been washed overboard--seemed to
share his resignation.
The only thing he did seem to care for was that if the infidel woman
chose to persist in coming on deck, the canvas screen--which had been
washed overboard--should be restored. This was done, and Madame de
Bourke was assisted to a couch that had been prepared for her with
cloaks, where the air revived her a little; but she listened with a
faint smile to the assurances of Arthur, backed by Hebert, that this
abandonment to fate gave the best chance. They might either be picked
up by a Christian vessel or go ashore on a Christian coast; but Madame
de Bourke did not build much on these hopes. She knew too well what
were the habits of wreckers of all nations, to think that it would make
much difference whether they were driven on the coast of Sicily or of
Africa--'barring,' as Lanty said, 'that they should get Christian
burial in the former case.'
'We are in the hands of a good God. That at least we know,' said the
Countess. 'And He can hear us through, whether for life in Paradise,
or trial a little longer here below.'
'Like Blandina,' observed Estelle.
'Ah! my child, who knows whether trials like even that blessed saint's
may not be in reserve even for your tender age. When I think of these
miserable men, who have renounced their faith, I see what fearful
ordeals there may be for those who fall into the hands of those
unbelievers. Strong men have yielded. How may it not be with my poor
children?'
'God made Blandina brave, mamma. I will pray that He may make me so.'
Land was in sight at last. Purple mountains rose to the south in wild
forms, looking strangely thunderous and red in the light of the sinking
sun. A bay, with rocks jutting out far into the sea, seemed to embrace
them with its arms. Soundings were made, and presently the Reis
decided on anchoring. It was a rocky coast, with cliffs descending
into the sea, covered with verdure, and the water beneath was clear as
glass.
'Have we escaped the Syrtes to fall upon AEneas' cave?' murmured Arthur
to himself.
'And if we could meet Queen Dido, or maybe Venus herself, 'twould be no
bad thing!' observed Lanty, who remembered his Virgil on occasion.
'For there's not a drop of wather left barring eau de vie, and if these
Moors get at that, 'tis raving madmen they would be.'
'Do they know where we are?' asked Arthur.
'Sorrah a bit!' returned Lanty, 'tho' 'tis a pretty place enough. If
my old mother was here, 'tis her heart would warm to the mountains.'
'Is it Calypso's Island?' whispered Ulysse to his sister.
'See, what are they doing?' cried Estelle. 'There are people--don't
you see, white specks crowding down to the water.'
There was just then a splash, and two bronzed figures were seen setting
forth from the tartane to swim to shore. The Turkish Reis had
despatched them, to ascertain whether the vessel had drifted, and who
the inhabitants might be.
A good while elapsed before one of these scouts returned. There was a
great deal of talk and gesticulating round him, and Lanty, mingling
with it, brought back word that the place was the Bay of Golo, not far
from Djigheli, and just beyond the Algerine frontier. The people were
Cabeleyzes, a wild race of savage dogs, which means dogs according the
Moors, living in the mountains, and independent of the Dey. A
considerable number rushed to the coast, armed, and in great numbers,
perceiving the tartane to be an Italian vessel, and expecting a raid by
Sicilian robbers on their cattle; but the Moors had informed them that
it was no such thing, but a prize taken in the name of the Dey of
Algiers, in which an illustrious French Bey's harem was being conveyed
to Algiers. From that city the tartane was now about a day's sail,
having been driven to the eastward of it during the storm. 'The
Turkish commander evidently does not like the neighbourhood,' said
Arthur, 'judging by his gestures.'
'Dogs and sons of dogs are the best names he has for them,' rejoined
Lanty.
'See! They have cut the cable! Are we not to wait for the other man
who swam ashore?'
So it was. A favourable wind was blowing, and the Reis, being by no
means certain of the disposition of the Cabeleyzes, chose to leave them
behind him as soon as possible, and make his way to Algiers, which
began to appear to his unfortunate passengers like a haven of safety.
They were not, however, out of the bay when the wind suddenly veered,
and before the great lateen sail could be reefed, it had almost caused
the vessel to be blown over. There was a pitching and tossing almost
as violent as in the storm, and then wind and current began carrying
the tartane towards the rocky shore. The Reis called the men to the
oars, but their numbers were too few to be availing, and in a very few
minutes more the vessel was driven hopelessly towards a mass of rocks.
Arthur, the Abbe, Hebert, and Lanty were all standing together at the
head of the vessel. The poor Abbe seemed dazed, and kept dreamily
fingering his rosary, and murmuring to himself. The other three
consulted in a low voice.
'Were it not better to have the women here on deck?' asked Arthur.
'Eh, non!' sobbed Master Hebert. 'Let not my poor mistress see what is
coming on her and her little ones!'
'Ah! and 'tis better if the innocent creatures must be drowned, that it
should be without being insensed of it till they wake in our Lady's
blessed arms,' added Lanty. 'Hark! and they are at their prayers.'
But just then Victorine rushed up from below, and throwing her arms
round Lanty, cried, 'Oh! Laurent, Laurent. It is not true that it is
all over with us, is it? Oh! save me! save me!'
'And if I cannot save you, mine own heart's core, we'll die together,'
returned the poor fellow, holding her fast. 'It won't last long,
Victorine, and the saints have a hold of my scapulary.'
He had scarcely spoken when, lifted upon a wave, the tartane dashed
upon the rocks, and there was at once a horrible shivering and crashing
throughout her--a frightful mingling of shrieks and yells of despair
with the wild roar of the waves that poured over her. The party at the
head of the vessel were conscious of clinging to something, and when
the first burly-burly ceased a little they found themselves all
together against the bulwark, the vessel almost on her beam ends,
wedged into the rocks, their portion high and dry, but the stern, where
the cabin was, entirely under water.
Victorine screamed aloud, 'My lady! my poor lady.'
'I see--I see something,' cried Arthur, who had already thrown off his
coat, and in another moment he had brought up Estelle in his arms,
alive, sobbing and panting. Giving her over to the steward, he made
another dive, but then was lost sight of, and returned no more, nor was
anything to be seen of the rest. Shut up in the cabin, Madame de
Bourke, Ulysse, and the three maids must have been instantly drowned,
and none of the crew were to be seen. Maitre Hebert hold the little
girl in his arms, glad that, though living, she was only half-
conscious. Victorine, sobbing, hung heavily on Lanty, and before he
could free his hands he perceived to his dismay that the Abbe,
unassisted, was climbing down from the wreck upon the rock, scarcely
perhaps aware of his danger.
Lanty tried to put Victorine aside, and called out, 'Your reverence,
wait--Masther Phelim, wait till I come and help you.' But the girl,
frantic with terror, grappled him fast, screaming to him not to let her
go--and at the same moment a wave broke over the Abbe. Lanty, almost
wild, was ready to leap into it after him, thinking he must be sucked
back with it, but behold! he still remained clinging to the rock.
Instinct seemed to serve him, for he had stuck his knife into the rock
and was holding on by it. There seemed no foothold, and while Lanty
was deliberating how to go to his assistance, another wave washed him
off and bore him to the next rock, which was only separated from the
mainland by a channel of smoother water. He tried to catch at a
floating plank, but in vain; however, an oar next drifted towards him,
and by it he gained the land, but only to be instantly surrounded by a
mob of Cabeleyzes, who seemed to be stripping off his garments. By
this time many were swimming towards the wreck; and Estelle, who had
recovered breath and senses, looked over Hebert's shoulder at them.
'The savages! the infidels!' she said. 'Will they kill me? or will
they try to make me renounce my faith? They shall kill me rather than
make me yield.'
'Ah! yes, my dear demoiselle, that is right. That is the only way. It
is my resolution likewise,' returned Hebert. 'God give us grace to
persist.'
'My mamma said so,' repeated the child. 'Is she drowned, Maitre
Hebert?'
'She is happier than we are, my dear young lady.'
'And my little brother too! Ah! then I shall remember that they are
only sending me to them in Paradise.'
By this time the natives were near the wreck, and Estelle, shuddering,
clung closer to Hebert; but he had made up his mind what to do. 'I
must commit you to these men, Mademoiselle,' he said; 'the water is
rising--we shall perish if we remain here.'
'Ah! but it would not hurt so much to be drowned,' said Estelle, who
had made up her mind to Blandina's chair.
'I must endeavour to save you for your father, Mademoiselle, and your
poor grandmother! There! be a good child! Do not struggle.'
He had attracted the attention of some of the swimmers, and he now
flung her to them. One caught her by an arm, another by a leg, and she
was safely taken to the shore, where at once a shoe and a stocking were
taken from her, in token of her becoming a captive; but otherwise her
garments were not meddled with; in which she was happier than her
uncle, whom she found crouched up on a rock, stripped almost to the
skin, so that he shrank from her, when she sprang to his side amid the
Babel of wild men and women, who were shouting in exultation and wonder
over his big flapped hat, his soutane and bands, pointing at his white
limbs and yellow hair--or, what amazed them even more, Estelle's light,
flaxen locks, which hung soaked around her. She felt a hand pulling
them to see whether anything so strange actually grew on her head, and
she turned round to confront them with a little gesture of defiant
dignity that evidently awed them, for they kept their hands off her,
and did not interfere as she stood sentry over her poor shivering
uncle.
Lanty was by this time trying to drag Victorine over the rocks and
through the water. The poor Parisienne was very helpless, falling,
hurting herself, and screaming continually; and trebly, when a couple
of natives seized upon her, and dragged her ashore, where they
immediately snatched away her mantle and cap, pulled off her gold chain
and cross, and tore out her earrings with howls of delight.
Lanty, struggling on, was likewise pounced upon, and bereft of his fine
green and gold livery coat and waistcoat, which, though by no means his
best, and stained with the sea water, were grasped with ecstasy,
quarrelled over, and displayed in triumph. The steward had secured a
rope by which he likewise reached the shore, only to become the prey of
the savages, who instantly made prize of his watch and purse, as well
as of almost all his garments. The five unfortunate survivors would
fain have remained huddled together, but the natives pointing to some
huts on the hillside, urged them thither by the language of shouts and
blows.
'Faith and I'm not an ox,' exclaimed Lanty, as if the fellow could have
understood him, 'and is it to the shambles you're driving me?'
'Best not resist! There's nothing for it but to obey them,' said the
steward, 'and at least there will be shelter for the child.'
No objection was made to his lifting her in his arms, and he carried
her, as the party, half-drowned, nearly starved and exhausted, stumbled
on along the rocky paths which cut their feet cruelly, since their
shoes had all been taken from them. Lanty gave what help he could to
the Abbe and Victorine, who were both in a miserable plight, but ere
long he was obliged to take his turn in carrying Estelle, whose weight
had become too much for the worn out Hebert. He was alarmed to find,
on transferring her, that her head sank on his shoulder as if in a
sleep of exhaustion, which, however, shielded her from much terror.
For, as they arrived at a cluster of five or six tents, built of clay
and the branches of trees, out rushed a host of women, children, and
large fierce dogs, all making as much noise as they were capable of.
The dogs flew at the strange white forms, no doubt utterly new to them.
Victorine was severely bitten, and Lanty, trying to rescue her, had his
leg torn.
These two were driven into one hut; Estelle, who was evidently
considered as the greatest prize, was taken into another and rather
better one, together with the steward and the Abbe. The Moors, who had
swum ashore, had probably told them that she was the Frankish Bey's
daughter; for this, miserable place though it was, appeared to be the
best hut in the hamlet, nor was she deprived of her clothes. A sort of
bournouse or haik, of coarse texture and very dirty, was given to each
of the others, and some rye cakes baked in the ashes. Poor little
Estelle turned away her head at first, but Hebert, alarmed at her
shivering in her wet clothes, contrived to make her swallow a little,
and then took off the soaked dress, and wrapped her in the bournouse.
She was by this time almost unconscious from weariness, and made no
resistance to the unaccustomed hands, or the disgusting coarseness and
uncleanness of her wrapper, but dropped asleep the moment he laid her
down, and he applied himself to trying to dry her clothes at a little
fire of sticks that had been lighted outside the open space, round
which the huts stood.
The Abbe too had fallen asleep, as Hebert managed to assure poor Lanty,
who rushed out of the other tent, nearly naked, and bloodstained in
many places, but more concerned at his separation from his foster-
brother than at anything else that had befallen him. Men, women,
children, and dogs were all after him, supposing him to be trying to
escape, and he was seized upon and dragged back by main force, but not
before the steward had called out -
'M. l'Abbe sleeps--sleeps sound--he is not hurt! For Heaven's sake,
Laurent, be quiet--do not enrage them! It is the only hope for him, as
for Mademoiselle and the rest of us.'
Lanty, on hearing of the Abbe's safety, allowed himself to be taken
back, making himself, however, a passive dead weight on his captor's
hands.
'Arrah,' he muttered to himself, 'if ye will have me, ye shall have the
trouble of me, bad luck to you. 'Tis little like ye are to the
barbarous people St. Paul was thrown with; but then what right have I
to expect the treatment of a holy man, the like of him? If so be, I
can save that poor orphan that's left, and bring off Master Phelim
safe, and save poor Victorine from being taken for some dirty
spalpeen's wife, when he has half a dozen more to the fore--'tis little
it matters what becomes of Lanty Callaghan; they might give him to
their big brutes of dogs, and mighty lean meat they would find him!'
So came down the first night upon the captives.
CHAPTER V--CAPTIVITY
'Hold fast thy hope and Heaven will not
Forsake thee in thine hour.
Good angels will be near thee,
And evil ones will fear thee,
And Faith will give thee power.'
SOUTHEY.
The whole northern coast of Africa is inhabited by a medley of tribes,
all owning a kind of subjection to the Sultan, but more in the sense of
Pope than of King. The part of the coast where the tartane had been
driven on the rocks was beneath Mount Araz, a spur of the Atlas, and
was in the possession of the Arab tribe called Cabeleyze, which is said
to mean 'the revolted.' The revolt had been from the Algerine power,
which had never been able to pursue them into the fastnesses of the
mountains, and they remained a wild independent race, following all
those Ishmaelite traditions and customs that are innate in the blood of
the Arab.
When Estelle awoke from her long sleep of exhaustion, she was conscious
of a stifling atmosphere, and moreover of the crow of a cock in her
immediate vicinity, then of a dog growling, and a lamb beginning to
bleat. She raised herself a little, and beheld, lying on the ground
around her, dark heaps with human feet protruding from them. These
were interspersed with sheep, goats, dogs, and fowls, all seen by the
yellow light of the rising sun which made its way in not only through
the doorless aperture, but through the reeds and branches which formed
the walls.
Close as the air was, she felt the chill of the morning and shivered.
At the same moment she perceived poor Maitre Hebert covering himself as
best he could with a dirty brown garment, and bending over her with
much solicitude, but making signs to make as little noise as possible,
while he whispered, 'How goes it with Mademoiselle?'
'Ah,' said Estelle, recollecting herself, 'we are shipwrecked. We
shall have to confess our faith! Where are the rest?'
'There is M. l'Abbe,' said Hebert, pointing to a white pair of the bare
feet. 'Poor Laurent and Victorine have been carried elsewhere.'
'And mamma? And my brother?'
'Ah! Mademoiselle, give the good God thanks that he has spared them
our trial.'
'Mamma! Ah, she was in the cabin when the water came in? But my
brother! I had hold of his hand, he came out with me. I saw M. Arture
swim away with him. Yes, Maitre Hebert, indeed I did.'
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