CHAPTER XXXI. THE DESCENT
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.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE CHEBEC
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.”