The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant Code: A Tale of the Grand Monarch

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER I.

  THE ST. ELOI.

  Early in the month of August of the year 1672, a violent tempest ragedon the coast of Holland. Driven by the storm, and already deprived ofone of its masts, the French brigantine St. Eloi "fled before the gale,"as mariners put it. With only a little triangular bit of sail spreadforward, she strove to run into the port of Delft, which lies not farfrom The Hague. The enormous waves, furiously dashing against the jettyof the port, completely hid it behind a mist of foam. Aware of his closeproximity to land, the captain gave at frequent intervals the signal ofdistress with two pieces of artillery that were placed upon theforecastle. He sought thereby to attract some daring pilot of the portto take charge of the partly dismantled craft, the plight of whichbecame all the more distressful when a dash of the sea carried away aportion of the rudder, and rendered control of the vessel almostimpossible. The St. Eloi had left Calais that morning for Dover; theweather was beautiful, the wind favorable. In the middle of the Channel,however, the wind shifted suddenly to west-northwest, and blew with suchfury that, compelled to flee before the tempest, and unable either tokeep its course for Dover or return to Calais, the brigantine sought toreach a haven of refuge in one of the ports on the Dutch coast.

  The distinguished passengers who chartered the St. Eloi for a passageacross the Channel to England were three in number: the Marchioness ofTremblay; her niece, Mademoiselle Bertha of Plouernel; and AbbotBoujaron. They were accompanied by a lackey and a maid. The Marchionessof Tremblay was on the way to join in London her nephew, Bertha'sbrother, Baron Raoul of Plouernel, who was charged by Louis XIV with aspecial commission to Charles II, King of England. Although, since thebeginning of the year, both the latter power and France were at war withthe Dutch Republic, or rather the seven United Provinces, strangersoccasionally received "letters of safeguard" from the admiralty atAmsterdam, thanks to which they could cross the Channel without fear ofthe cruisers of Admiral Ruyter's squadron. Equipped with one of theseletters, the St. Eloi was under sail for Dover when the storm overtookher. In order not to stand in the way of the pumps, that were kept busyby as many of the men as the vessel's small crew could afford, bailingthe water from a leak in the hold, the passengers were soon obliged togo upon the bridge. Their different attitudes at that critical momentpresented striking contrasts. The Marchioness of Tremblay, a woman ofripe age, once reputed a belle but now of haughty demeanor, layshuddering with fear upon a mattress, stretched out on the vessel'spoop; she was supported by her maid, and, in order to prevent her beingtossed about by the heavy roll of the ship, she was steadied by a scarfthat passed under her arm and was fastened to the taffrail. Beside her,and no less pale than herself, Abbot Boujaron, a man of fifty, short,thick-set and puffy, held himself fast to a shroud with a convulsivelyclenched hand, while with the other he clung to the arm of his lackey,and emitted plaintive moans, interspersed with bits of expostulatoryprayers. Mademoiselle Bertha of Plouernel on the contrary, seemed totake no thought of the danger of the hour, but gave herself over to theimposing poetry of the storm, after having vainly endeavored to reassureher aunt the Marchioness, and induce her to share the serenity thatnever leaves brave spirits in the lurch. The young girl, barely twentyyears of age, was tall, supple, well rounded, with a brunette complexionof radiant beauty. It was emotion and not fear that animated herotherwise pale face, while the spark that shone in her large black eyes,surmounted with well-marked eyebrows, sufficiently denoted the feverishadmiration that the sight of the elements in fury inspired her with.With dilating nostrils, a heaving bosom, her forehead lashed by the galethat raised and blew backward the floating ringlets of her hair, shesteadied herself with a firm hand against the rigging of the ship, andyielded to the motion of the rolling and pitching craft with asuppleness that unveiled the elegance of her waist while enabling her topreserve her equilibrium. Mademoiselle Plouernel contemplated in wraptenthusiasm the spectacle presented to her eyes, all the more indifferentto the danger that threatened her, seeing she did not believe in death.Yes, son of Joel, in keeping with the ancient faith of the Gauls, ourfathers, the young girl was upheld by the conviction that, as aconsequence of the phenomenon called "death," the soul freed itself ofits material wrappage, the body, in order to assume a new formappropriate to its entrance upon other spheres. She firmly believedthat, body and soul, spirit and matter, life was renewed, or rathercontinued, in the starry worlds that spangle the firmament.

  A second dash of the sea finished and carried off the brigantine'srudder. The vessel's position became desperate. The captain fired a lastsignal of distress, still hoping to be heard by the pilots of Delft andto bring them to his aid. The signal was heard. A caravel, a sort ofsolid yet light ship, that, thanks to its special build, is better ablethan any other to beat its way against violent winds and over heavyseas, was seen to emerge from the harbor. Tacking with as much skill asdaring, at times disappearing in the troughs of the towering waves thatseemed to swallow her up, the caravel would again reappear riding theircrests and almost lying upon her white sails that grazed the foam of thebillows as the wings of a sea bird graze the water. At the risk offoundering, the caravel steadily approached the disabled brigantine.

  "Ah," cried the captain of the St. Eloi, "to dare come out to our helpin such a storm, the commander of that caravel must be as generous a manas skilful and intrepid a sailor!"

  Struck by these words Mademoiselle Plouernel followed with increasedinterest the manoeuvres of the caravel, that steadily tacked its waytowards the distressed brigantine. The sturdy craft went upon a new leg,in order to pass within hailing distance of the brigantine, that now,wholly dismantled and deprived of its rudder, had become the toy of waveand wind, the combined violence of which was driving her towards theshore, where she would inevitably have been dashed to pieces.

  Suddenly--a common phenomenon near land--the storm was almost completelyhushed; the sea, however, would long continue heavy, and its action,combined with that of the tide, carried the St. Eloi, which was unableto steer herself into port, straight upon the rocks that littered theshore. The caravel had made good use of the last gusts of wind and drawnsteadily nearer. She had only a few sailors on board. At the stern and,despite his youth, managing the rudder with a vigorous and experiencedhand, stood a mariner of about twenty years. The youth presented avirile and charming picture. His head and neck were bare, his hair andforehead streamed with the spray of the dashing waves. He wore a jacketof red wool and wide breeches of white cloth that were half hidden inhis large fisherman's boots. The resolute attitude of the young mariner,who, at the risk of his own life, strove to save the lives of strangersto him; his calm, intelligent and bold face--in short the youth'sattitude, appearance and conduct, imparted to the heroism of his actiona character of such grandeur and touching generosity that both thecourage and personality of the approaching savior of the brigantinemade a lively impression upon Mademoiselle Plouernel. As soon as he hovewithin hailing distance, the young master of the caravel shouted inFrench to the captain of the St. Eloi that, although the swell of thesea still continued heavy and rendered approach dangerous, he wouldmanoeuvre in such manner as to tow the brigantine into port. Laborious,delicate and difficult was the operation requisite to keep the disabledship from certain wreck by being cast upon the rocks by the rising tide.The skilful manoeuvre was successfully executed by the master of thecaravel. His sailors threw a cable to the brigantine; out came theirlong oars in order to supplement the dying wind; at the expiration of anhour the St. Eloi, finally out of danger, cast anchor in the harbor ofDelft.