The Adventures of Saturnin Farandoul

by Albert Robida

  When the shadows of night extended themselves over the city, Farandoul and his little troop marched on the Aquarium. When they arrived, the mariners ran into an armed camp. Farandoul went pale at the sight of the bivouac fires. Nevertheless, he advanced boldly as far as the first guard-post.

  “Halt! Who goes there?” shouted the sentries—and, as the mariners continued to advance, a shot was fired in the air.

  An officer and several horsemen hastened forward. Farandoul began to negotiate with the officer, and obtained consent to go alone to the threshold of the Aquarium. There he tried to obtain by eloquence what he could not take by force.

  It was utterly useless.

  “I’m personally very sorry for you, sir,” the Colonel said to him, in conclusion, “but I can’t grant your desire. I entirely understand that your motives may be respectable, but the law is the law and the property of every Englishman is sacred. As a militiaman, I must protect public safety, and it’s my duty to force you to re-embark. at least until you consent to abandon all hostile plans.”

  “Never! I shall have Mysora, by agreement or by force.”

  “Then it’s war, sir. If you dare to attack, you will find yourself facing all the combined forces of the state of Victoria, Australia and old England!”

  “As you say, it’s war,” Farandoul replied, with grim resolution. “And if I don’t attack today, know that you’ll lose nothing by waiting. Ah, perfidious Albion, you’re protecting a crime, sustaining the oppressors of innocence. The day of vengeance will come, and you shall know the weight of arms borne in a just course! I, Saturnin Farandoul, Captain of La Belle Léocadie, declare war on the State of Melbourne—and on Australia and England too, if they so wish! Hear me, soldiers! I tell you that this will soon be a battlefield!”

  Saturnin Farandoul and his little troop retraced their steps to the ship. Farandoul, mulling over terrible plans, said not a word on the way.

  La Belle Léocadie put on sail the following morning. At the same hour, huge posters were affixed to every wall in Melbourne, bearing the simple words:

  WAR TO THE DEATH AGAINST AUSTRALIA.

  SATURNIN FARANDOUL.

  SEE YOU SOON!

  VI.

  Three months have gone by since the fatal events that we have related. Sir James Collingham, Her Majesty’s Governor of the State of Victoria, is surveying his office in an indescribable state of agitation. Sir James appears distraught; his uniform is unbuttoned, his face has taken on the hue of a cooked lobster and he seems close to collapse. He reads and re-reads dispatches brought in one after another by men as agitated as their commander.

  This is what these dispatches say:

  Geelong, May 16, 5:45 a.m.

  Rumor has it that hordes of armed brigands disembarked last night four miles from here. Have sent for confirmation.

  Geelong, May 16, 10:50 a.m.

  Fugitives bring news. The disembarkation continues. Brigands marching on Geelong. Militia summoned. Scouts have not returned. Request help.

  Geelong, May 16, 11:30 a.m.

  Messenger arrived under flag of truce. Sent by Saturnin Farandoul, General-in-Chief of the Oceanian army, who sent declaration of war three months ago. Says he will attack in two hours if we do not surrender. Request help. Urgent.

  Geelong, May 16, 2 p.m.

  Attack has begun. Militia falling back to town. Help!

  Geelong, May 16, 3:15 p.m.

  Town taken by Farandoulian troops. Station under attack. We are retreating.

  Geelong, May 16, 4:50 p.m.

  Colonel Campbell to Governor:

  Arrived too late. Geelong taken by Farandoulian troops; we are covering the retreat. The enemy is coming. Hurrah for old England!

  Geelong, May 16, 4:58 p.m.

  Attack begun. Our advance-guard is retreating. Strange! The Farandoulian troops are hairy. Beating a retreat so as not to be cut off by an enemy flanking movement. Losses considerable. Send help.

  Melbourne, May 16, 5 p.m.

  Croknuff, Director of the Great Aquarium, to the Governor.

  Request permission to establish a battery of torpedoes for the protection of the Aquarium against Farandoulian attack.20

  Sir James, to avoid suffocation, decides to take off his uniform. Officers press in upon him from every side, some bringing news, others coming in search of orders, all shouting and jostling. Troops are massing in front of the Governor’s mansion; dispatch-riders clatter across the pavement; drums beat; clarion calls reverberate.

  Heavy artillery-pieces are arriving at the gallop with a terrible racket of bronze and old iron. The lugubrious strokes of the tocsin, sounding in every edifice, can be heard over the uproar, completing the sinister symphony.

  The Assembly (the upper chamber) and the Council (the lower chamber) have been urgently summoned to vote through all the defensive measures proposed by the Governor.

  The attack has been so sudden that it has thrown everything into disarray. No one has any but the vaguest information about the enemy; nothing is known of its strength or its intentions, for the successive telegrams shed no light on the situation and officers sent out on reconnaissance do not come back.

  The Geelong railway has been requisitioned to carry battalions of militia rapidly to the aid of Colonel Campbell, but it is feared that they never arrived, the line having been cut by the enemy in advance of that officer’s position.

  In the middle of this military tohu-bohu, a carriage arrives at the Governor’s mansion. A man gets out and hurries up the grand staircase. It is the editor of the Melbourne Herald, the most important newspaper in the state of Victoria. “Where’s the Governor?” he shouts, brandishing a piece of paper. “Here’s news from Dick Broken, the reporter I sent to Geelong this morning! Do you want the details?”

  A group of officers form a circle around the editor of the Melbourne Herald; the Governor gives him permission to speak.

  “This is the letter from my reporter—listen!

  “Cheep Hill, 5:15 p.m.

  “Sick at heart, I write to you from the depths of the profoundest astonishment. The sinister rumors that reached Melbourne this morning are not unfounded; the enemy has disembarked during the night near Geelong and has seized the town.

  “Despite my best efforts, I cannot get into Geelong, which is occupied by Farandoulian troops. The rout of the defenders of that unhappy town has caught me up and carried me several miles back like a torrent. The enemy has lost no time in catching up with us and, as you can imagine, I have made every effort to place myself in the front rank.

  “Having forced my horse through the crowd, I soon found myself at the battle-front. The enemy fire was intermittent, sometimes dying away entirely and sometimes sweeping across certain targets with an extraordinary regularity that astonished our old warriors. There was something mechanical about it, something like the rotation, so to speak, of a sewing-machine. I could not make out anything on the enemy side except for the smoke of their guns, and great black masses moving in the distance.

  “At 4 p.m., Colonel Campbell’s reinforcements arrived; that veteran of the Indian wars, full of confidence, immediately resolved to charge the enemy to resume combat; it goes without saying that I took my place in the attack column.

  “I cannot describe the hurricane of fire and steel that was unleashed around us as we formed up; we were advancing regardless, when a wood situated to our left disgorged upon our staggering column an avalanche of warriors protected by huge shields and armed with clubs. Thus we came to see the Farandoulian troops at close range! These warriors were bounding with superhuman vigor, so rapidly that they were on us before we could square up to them. Hardly anyone fired a shot before we had to defend ourselves with bayonets against the demons.

  “War cries also sounded to our right, and we soon saw new enemies leaping with extraordinary agility over the closely-pressed ranks of militiamen. It was then, for the first time, that I saw something that terrified me! I rubbed my eyes, but a great cry l
et loose by the staff officer made me understand that my sight was not at fault! At the same moment, the column fell into total disarray, and the retreat began.

  “How can I tell you what we had seen? Expect the most thunderous surprise, the strangest and most frightful revelation! Know, then, that we were beating a retreat before an army of fearsome monkeys! Yes—all those who survive will be able to swear to it—our enemies are monkeys, armed, trained and commanded by regular troops!

  “Their leader, of whom I caught a glimpse during the heat of the battle, is none other than the audacious mariner who threatened Melbourne three months ago! My horse having been killed, I had to follow the retreat sitting on a cannon. We have arrived at Cheep Hill, which Colonel Campbell believes he can hold. I shall send news!

  “Dick Broken.”

  Everyone was stunned by this recital. A few officers having expressed doubts, the editor of the Melbourne Herald defended his reporter animatedly, while a new dispatch arrived to put paid to the last uncertainties.

  It consisted of the following:

  Cheep Hill, May 16, 7 p.m.

  The monkeys are mounting a flanking movement. We are surrounded. Troops demoralized. Awaiting assault.

  Colonel Campbell.

  A council of war was immediately assembled. Melbourne was put under martial law; detachments were sent out to scour the country along the Geelong road. Soon, an entire army, comprising militia and volunteers, took up positions in that direction to defend the city.

  The night passed without any further news from Cheep Hill. Colonel Campbell’s silence caused the Governor tremendous disquiet and foreboding. At 5 a.m., however, the Melbourne Herald received a second letter.

  Cheep Hill, May 16, 10 p.m.

  The dark specter of defeat hovers relentlessly overhead. Cheep Hill is taken; Colonel Campbell has been obliged to surrender.

  I am a prisoner of the Farandoulian monkeys. Nevertheless, I will do everything I can to get this letter to you. I told you that Colonel Campbell believed that he could hold his position and keep the monkeys in check long enough to allow the defense of Melbourne to be organized. Our troops, harassed and demoralized, camped on the hill while the Colonel established his general quarters in the buildings of Cheep Hill Farm. Large woods enveloped the hill to our rear and Colonel Campbell counted on taking refuge there in case of a reverse.

  Unfortunately, the darkness of these woods also served to hide a flanking movement which the left wing of the monkeys’ army carried out—with a rapidity that no longer astonishes us now that we know our enemy—while our troops were drawing breath. The battle recommenced at the center of the position at about 7 p.m.; our rested militiamen did their best and we began to feel hope reborn in our hearts, when catastrophe suddenly overtook us.

  Everyone was facing the enemy, fighting amid a chorus of hurrahs for old England. All of a sudden, loud cries were raised in the tops of the trees to the rear of our position. Every head turned that way. By the rays of the setting Sun, we were affrighted to see the legion of our enemies bearing down on us, leaping from crown to crown.

  The foliage of every tree was swarming with howling and grimacing enemies; the very forest seemed to be alive, marching upon us as in Macbeth, but we had scarcely time to think. The monkeys, arriving at the last trees, leapt into our ranks, screeching frightfully and whirling their heavy clubs. Minute by minute, further battalions of monkeys leapt upon us from the heights of the eucalyptus and gum-trees, belaboring our troops with irresistible force.

  Campbell’s dragoons attempted a charge, but the monkeys, jumping on the horses’ rumps, toppled the riders and came at us again with even greater impetuosity.

  At that moment, the Farandoulians we had been facing also broke through our lines. I was able to see, in the midst of the heat of battle, a troop of monkeys protected by long ironwood shields advancing in regular formation, while other quadrumanes 21—probably members of an elite corps, armed with rifles and commanded by men in bright uniforms—spread out as sharpshooters.

  Colonel Campbell formed a second front in order to try to face up to all our enemies. We were obviously lost! Suddenly, a strident shout let loose by their leader—whom I recognized to be the terrible Farandoul—cut through the tumult of the battle. At that signal, the fight ceased; a monkey waving a white flag came forward, at the same time as Farandoul moved his horse towards us.

  “Soldiers, it’s time to stop the bloodshed,” he shouted. “You’re surrounded. Surrender!”

  Colonel Campbell gave the order to cease fire and went to meet him. Covered in blood like a wounded lion, the old warrior was determined to sell his own life dearly, but he wished at least to try to save the lives of what remained of his army.

  “Colonel,” Farandoul said to him, “continuing the fight will serve no purpose. You are surrounded by 20,000 monkeys, and more reinforcements will reach me tonight. Lay down your arms. I promise to treat you with all due consideration to your bravery.”

  The old warrior, in tears, decided to capitulate. An agreement was rapidly concluded and the troops, now prisoners of war, surrendered their arms to the monkeys.

  Such were the events which will go down in history as the battle and surrender of Cheep Hill.

  I am being held prisoner with the staff-officers. Our surgeons are dressing the wounds of both armies. The monkeys, so terrible in battle, now seem very amiable, and full of concern for our wellbeing. I will even say that they seem to me to be rather good chaps.

  The most perfect order is maintained in their army. I was able to catch a glimpse of General Farandoul. He is very busy, but he has promised me a brief interview. I will send you all the details and provoke as many indiscretions as I can.

  Dick Broken

  P.S. I have had a chat with Colonel Mandibul, General Farandoul’s chief staff-officer. He has told me the curious details of the composition of the Farandoulian army. The main body of the army is composed of monkeys from Borneo and New Guinea; the elite troops armed with new machine-guns of Farandoul’s own design—which explains the sewing-machine sound I mentioned this morning—come from an island where General Farandoul spent his childhood. These monkeys obey their leaders with a discipline that the best European troops would envy. The General is the idol of his army.

  A special edition of the Melbourne Herald appeared at 8 a.m. on May 17. The disastrous news imparted by the courageous reporter’s remarkable letters threw the entire city into the greatest confusion.

  The most distraught of all the citizens of Melbourne was most certainly the scientist Mr. Croknuff. Mounted on a little pony, hired for that purpose, despite his distaste for equitation, he was galloping towards the Governor’s general quarters to assure himself of the veracity of the facts. He had no need to question the officers at length to bring himself up to date. A loud fusillade from the advance-posts apprised him of the situation sufficiently. He dug his spurs into the flanks of his steed and turned back towards the Aquarium, bouncing in his saddle.

  The environs of the Aquarium had altered considerably since the preceding day. An immense moat, six meters deep and 15 wide, guarded the approach. Hundreds of workmen were occupied in using the earth excavated from the trench to construct a rampart bastioned in the regulation manner. Others were crenellating the walls of the Aquarium. In advance of all these projects, an engineer—a friend of Mr. Croknuff’s—had prepared mine-chambers connected by electrical wiring to the Director’s office.

  Mr. Croknuff went into the grounds. Leaping swiftly from the saddle—which was scarcely difficult, as his feet were almost touching the ground—he advanced upon the laborers.

  “Is the moat ready?” he asked.

  “Yes sir, it’s all ready; the pipes carrying the water are fully functional.”

  “It’s just as well. Give the signal—the enemy’s drawing near!”

  At a blast from the foreman’s whistle, the dam was opened and water—brought directly from the sea by a subterranean canal to serve the Aquari
um’s needs—poured into the moat, which was soon full. To complete the grounds’ defenses, Mr. Croknuff released his famous whale from its tank in the aquarium, along with two little Javanese sharks and a dozen giant octopodes.22 These redoubtable animals, happy to have more room, were soon swimming in the moat, thus rendering it impossible to cross. Mr. Croknuff was obviously neglecting no opportunity in recruiting his inmates to the defense of the Aquarium.

  Mr. Croknuff felt that he was under a greater threat than any other citizen of Melbourne, because he understood that this terrible war had been ignited by him—by his obstinate refusal to surrender Mysora. Mr. Croknuff was utterly determined—victory or death! The Great Aquarium of Melbourne would not capitulate!

  What, meanwhile, had become of poor Mysora? The unfortunate girl had not left her moist abode for three months. She, too, was resolute, and nothing—neither pleas nor threats—could make her give way. She had decided that she would rather spend her life in her underwater grotto than ever consent to become Mrs. Croknuff, as the horrid old scientist incessantly pressed her to do,

  In three months, Mr. Croknuff had been changed out of all recognition. His heart burned white hot within his breast. A few hairs, favored by this interior climate, had even contrived to reappear upon his cranium. For three months his every waking moment had been consecrated to the tank in which the poor girl languished, in company with the whale that was the cause of all her troubles.

  Mr. Croknuff spent his days on the platform of the aquarium, trying to soften Mysora’s heart. Needless to say, all his arguments were in vain. They were, in any case, in English, and Mysora only understood Malay. The poor girl, with unparalleled constancy, passed her days in walking back and forth across the aquarium in order to give herself a little exercise. By night she retired to her little grotto, wanting to be alone in order to think of her beloved Farandoul without being troubled by curiosity-seekers.