by Eugène Sue
“Segoffin, your conduct is outrageous. In my father’s name I command you to stop such scandalous behaviour at once.”
“Help, help, he is strangling me!” murmured M. Verduron, feebly. “Ah, when the captain—”
The word captain sealed the ship owner’s fate. In the twinkling of an eye Segoffin had seized M. Verduron around the waist, and had sprung with him over the low parapet on to the grassy slope below, where, still locked in each other’s arms, they rolled unharmed to the bottom of the cliff, while Sabine, unable to control the terror which this last incident had excited, swooned in Suzanne’s arms.
“Help, Thérèse, help! Mademoiselle has fainted; help!” cried the housekeeper. The servant came running in answer to the summons, and with her assistance Sabine was carried to the house.
This call was heard by Segoffin, who at once said to himself: “There is no farther cause for fear; our secret is safe!”
So he released his hold upon M. Floridor Verduron, who staggered to his feet, panting and dishevelled, and so angry that he was unable to utter a word, though his eyes spoke volumes. Segoffin, profiting by this silence, said to the ship owner, with the most good-humoured air imaginable, quite as if they were continuing a friendly conversation, in fact:
“Now, my dear M. Verduron, I will explain why I was obliged to force you to follow me to this rather lonely retreat.”
“Wretch, how dare you insult me in this fashion?” yelled the ship owner, exasperated beyond endurance by the head gunner’s coolness.
“It was all your fault, M. Verduron.”
“My fault? How outrageous!”
“I asked you to give me a moment’s conversation in private, but you wouldn’t do it, so I was obliged to resort to this little manœuvre to secure it.”
“Very well, very well, we will see what the captain says about all this. To place me in such a position, and in the presence of ladies!”
“I really ask your pardon for the liberty I took, M. Verduron,” said Segoffin, seriously enough this time, “but upon my honour I was absolutely compelled to do it.”
“What! you dare—”
“Listen to me. For several very important reasons M. Cloarek has carefully concealed from his daughter the fact that he has been engaged in privateering.”
“Is that really so?” exclaimed the ship owner, his wrath giving place to profound astonishment. “Possibly that is the reason he took such pains to conceal his real name and address from me, then.”
“Yes, and in order to explain his frequent absences he has given his daughter to understand that he sells dry goods on a commission, so you can understand my embarrassment when I saw you drop down upon us from the clouds.”
“But why didn’t you ask me to keep the secret?”
“That was what I wanted to speak to you in private about. After you refused, it was like treading on live coals to continue the conversation, and when I saw you were certain to let the cat out of the bag there was nothing for me to do but tumble you down the cliff to get you away from Mlle. Sabine and the housekeeper. It was pretty rough treatment, I admit, but I could see no other way out of the difficulty.”
“I forgive you, Segoffin,” said M. Verduron, magnanimously. “I must even admit that it was very clever of you to—”
“Where are they? Where are they?” shouted M. Cloarek’s voice high above their heads.
“They both fell over the cliff, monsieur,” replied the voice of Thérèse.
Almost immediately Yvon’s head appeared above the parapet.
On seeing the ship owner, he stood a moment as if stupefied, then remembering that M. Verduron’s presence imperilled the secret he was so anxious to guard, he exclaimed:
“Damnation! You here, monsieur! How dare you—”
But with three bounds Segoffin had reached the brow of the cliff.
“Don’t be alarmed; Mlle. Sabine and Suzanne know nothing,” he cried.
“Thank God! I can breathe again!” murmured Cloarek, relieved of a terrible apprehension.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER.
CLOAREK, REASSURED IN regard to the probable consequences of the ship owner’s visit, was anxious to ascertain the object of his coming, but it was first necessary to devise some way of helping him up the cliff, so Segoffin went in search of a rope. They threw one end of it to M. Verduron, and he soon made the ascent, thanks to its aid.
“Come in the house,” said Cloarek, without making any attempt to conceal his annoyance. “I want to know why you ventured to come and search me out when I had taken such pains to conceal my identity.”
“Well, to make a long story short, I came to hold a council of war with you.”
“A council of war? Are you mad?”
“By no means, my brave captain, as you will profit by it to the extent of at least four or five hundred thousand francs.”
“In other words, you want me to put to sea again, I suppose. But one question, here and now: What right had you to make a confidential letter that I wrote to you — what right, I say, had you to make such a letter public?”
“I thought it would give such pleasure to the many readers of the Journal, all of whom are hungering for news of the bravest and most renowned of privateers.”
“You are very complimentary, I am sure, but this indiscretion on your part has annoyed me greatly.”
“In that case your modesty will certainly suffer very much from the article in to-day’s paper.”
“What article? Let me tell you once for all—”
“Don’t be alarmed, my dear captain. It merely described how the brave Captain l’Endurci conducted an attack, how like a tiger he fought, etc. It said nothing in relation to his private life.”
“This is unbearable,” said Cloarek, impatiently, though he was in reality greatly relieved.
“I was certainly actuated by no evil motive, in any event; besides, as Segoffin says, there is no undoing that which is done, or words to that effect.”
“It is useless to discuss the matter further. You came here to ask me to put to sea again. I shall do nothing of the kind. That is the end of it.”
“But it is not the end of it by any means, my dear captain. Just give me your attention for a moment. A three-master belonging to the East India Company, with two million francs in bullion, will soon be along. Two million francs, do you hear?”
“If she had ten millions aboard it would make no difference to me. I shall not put to sea again. I have said it, and I mean it.”
“It is true that you have said so, my dear captain, but you will change your mind — for many reasons.”
“I never go back on my word, monsieur.”
“No more do I; but often, and in spite of ourselves, circumstances force—”
“Once again I tell you that I said no, and no it is.”
“You said no, I admit! You will say yes, too, my dear captain,” responded the ship owner, with an air of profound conviction.
“Enough, M. Verduron, enough!” cried Cloarek, stamping his foot, angrily.
“Don’t irritate M. Yvon,” Segoffin remarked to the ship owner, sotto voce. “I know him. You’ll only bring down a terrific storm upon your head.”
“All I ask, my dear captain,” persisted M. Verduron, “is that you will give me your attention for five minutes, that is all.”
“Go on, then.”
“You will see by this clipping from an English newspaper, — and the sources of information seem to be perfectly trustworthy, by the way, — you will see that the British cruiser Vanguard which is convoying the richly laden vessel is commanded by Captain Blake.”
“Captain Blake?”
“The same,” replied the ship owner. “He is, as you know, one of the most daring officers in the British navy, and, unfortunately for us, he has always come off victorious in his encounters with our vessels.”
“Oh, if I could only have been lucky enough to get a shot at him!” muttered Segoffin.
�
��You will, never fear, you old sea-wolf. As for you, my dear captain, your silence means consent, I am sure. Think of the honour, as well as the profit, to be derived from the operation: four or five hundred thousand francs and the Vanguard in tow of the Hell-hound, all in forty-eight hours.”
Segoffin, who had been accustomed for years to make a profound study of his employer’s physiognomy, and who had been carefully noting the effect of these proposals, said in a low tone to the ship owner, shaking his head the while:
“The bait is tempting, but he isn’t going to swallow it this time.”
His prognostications proved correct; the flush of anger gradually faded from Cloarek’s face; his contracted features relaxed, and it was calmly, half-smilingly, that he at last said to M. Verduron:
“You are a clever tempter, but I have a talisman against you. It is the promise I have made to my daughter not to leave her again. You have seen her, and you must feel that I shall keep my word.”
“Mlle. Cloarek is a charming girl. There is not the slightest doubt of that, my dear captain, but you would be very foolish to miss such a fine opportunity as this.”
“It is impossible, I tell you.”
“Help me persuade him, Segoffin, and then you will get your wished-for shot at Captain Blake, I promise you.”
“Segoffin knows that I never break my word, M. Verduron. I said no, and no it is.”
“Sacre bleu! it is amazing how atrociously selfish some people are!” exclaimed the ship owner, highly incensed by Cloarek’s refusal.
“You must be jesting, M. Verduron,” responded Cloarek, who could not help smiling at this outbreak. “It is all very easy for you to talk about stirring conflicts. I, for my part, should like to know which is the most selfish, you who remain safe and comfortable in your office at Dieppe, or the sailor who mans your ship, and exposes himself to all the perils of deadly combats.”
“You talk as if I had to run no risk whatever,” exclaimed Verduron. “You forget to say anything about the bullets I receive.”
“Well, upon my word! I never knew before that you, too, were in the habit of exposing yourself to a shower of bullets!” cried Segoffin.
“Isn’t my vessel under fire if I am not? And how about all the repairs, and all the damages your humble servant has to pay for? And the wounds, and the legs and arms, you have forgotten what they cost me, I suppose. Didn’t I have to pay for five legs and three arms lost in that last fight of yours? Reckon them up at the rate of fifty crowns a limb, and see what they come to.”
“But you must remember that you don’t have to pay a sou when a man loses his head,” retorted Segoffin.
“This is no subject for jesting, I want you to understand,” snapped the ship owner, who was evidently becoming more and more excited, “for am I not doing everything on earth to secure you the best of crews? For don’t you think, yourself, captain, that the prospect of a small pension in case of serious injuries encourages our sailors and makes regular devils of them under fire? And yet when I am bleeding myself in this fashion, I am repaid by the blackest ingratitude.”
“What you say is absurd,” replied Cloarek, shrugging his shoulders. “I have quadrupled your fortune.”
“And because Captain l’Endurci has made all the money he wants, he doesn’t care in the least whether other persons have or not,” persisted the ship owner.
“There is not the slightest need of your working yourself into such a passion, Verduron,” replied Cloarek. “There are plenty of brave sea-captains in Dieppe, thank Heaven! quite as capable of commanding the Hell-hound and contending successfully with Captain Blake as I am.”
“Then you refuse, captain?”
“For the tenth time, yes.”
“Positively?”
“Positively.”
“Very well, then, captain,” responded the ship owner, resolutely. “What I have been unable to obtain by persuasion and entreaties, I shall obtain in some other way.”
“What does he mean?” asked Cloarek, turning to Segoffin.
“I mean that it is not easy to resign oneself to the loss of at least half a million, captain,” responded Verduron, threateningly; “so, though I had no idea that you would persist in your refusal, I was prudent enough to take my precautions.”
“Your precautions?”
“The Hell-hound is now in Havre, where she arrived this morning.”
“Then it was the Hell-hound I saw!” cried Segoffin. “I thought I couldn’t be mistaken.”
“The brig is at Havre?” exclaimed Cloarek.
“Yes, M. Yvon, but disguised beyond any possibility of recognition. She has been painted gray with a broad yellow band, and not a sign of a gun is visible.”
“And now will you be kind enough to tell me what all this signifies?” demanded Cloarek.
“It means that I have changed the appearance of the brig as much as possible, because all the British cruisers are on the lookout for her, and now, thanks to this disguise, you will be able to reach Jersey with little or no trouble.”
“You are persistent, I must say,” said Cloarek, restraining himself only by a powerful effort.
“Yes, captain, and what is more, I’ve got you, and I mean to keep you. The crew are wild with enthusiasm; the prospect of another voyage under you has made them frantic with delight. They expect to see you this evening, and I warn you that if you are not in Havre within an hour, they will be here in two hours.”
“What! You will dare—” began Cloarek, in a voice choked with anger.
“I? Why, I have nothing to do with it, captain. It is your sailors that you will have to deal with, and you have had a chance to find out whether they are milk-sops or not. If you persist in your refusal, you will see one hundred and fifty of those dare-devils here with drums and fifes, and resolved to have their brave captain, whether or no. I am afraid those drums and fifes will destroy your incognito effectually this time.”
“Wretch!” roared Cloarek, realising how entirely feasible the ship owner’s plan was, and he would have precipitated himself upon his tormentor if Segoffin had not suddenly interposed his own body between the two men and said to Cloarek:
“Remember that there are white hairs under his musk-scented powder, M. Yvon.”
“Oh, knock me down! Kill me, if you like! that will not prevent the crew from coming for you, nor you from going with them,” snarled the ship owner.
“Don’t talk so loud, gentlemen, I beg of you. I hear somebody coming now.”
In another instant Suzanne appeared, pale and terrified.
“Oh, monsieur, — come, — come quick!” she cried.
“What is the matter?”
“Mademoiselle—”
“Is my daughter worse?”
“Oh, monsieur, I am so frightened, — come, come!”
Cloarek, forgetting everything else in his alarm, rushed off, leaving Segoffin and the ship owner alone together.
“M. Verduron, I tell you very plainly, you have had a narrow escape,” said the head gunner. “I have only one piece of advice to give you. Get away from here as soon as possible.”
“You may be right,” replied the visitor, hastily picking up his hat and cane.
“I am right.”
“Well, listen to me. You know I mean well, and I must admit now that I am sorry I tried to carry things with such a high hand, for I had no idea that the captain had a daughter, or that he was so anxious to conceal the fact that he was a privateer; but no power on earth now, not even that of the captain himself, can prevent those devilish sailors from coming here in search of him if he does not go to them, so you had better tell him, in any case, that the ship’s officers and a part of the crew are waiting for him at the tavern known as The Golden Anchor on the quay.”
The ship owner hastened off and Segoffin darted into the house to inquire if there was any improvement in Sabine’s condition.
CHAPTER XVIII.
“MY MOTHER’S MURDERER STILL LIVES.”
&n
bsp; SEGOFFIN HAD BEEN pacing the hall out of which Sabine’s sitting-room opened for about half an hour with ever-increasing anxiety before Suzanne came out.
“Well, how is mademoiselle?” he asked, anxiously. “Tell me, Suzanne, how is she?”
“A nice question to ask, truly, when your brutality toward that estimable gentleman this morning threw mademoiselle into a frightful nervous spasm.”
“I admit that I did very wrong, but she had got over that. M. Yvon told me so when he came out into the garden. What happened afterward to upset her so again?”
“Alas! the one great sorrow of her life has been recalled to her remembrance more vividly than ever!”
“You refer to her poor mother’s death, of course.”
“Yes, and she has just been talking to M. Yvon about it. You can judge how painful the conversation must have been to him.”
“What do you mean?” cried Segoffin, in alarm. “Is it possible that Mlle. Sabine knows that terrible secret?”
“No, thank Heaven! she does not, and I sincerely hope she never will.”
“I do not understand you then, Suzanne.”
“This is what caused all the trouble,” said the housekeeper, drawing a paper from her pocket.
“What is that?”
“The morning paper. It contains further details in relation to that famous privateer, Captain l’Endurci. Listen to what it says, and you will then understand the situation.”
And opening the paper, Suzanne read the following extract from an article headed, “Further Particulars in Relation to the Famous Corsair, Captain l’Endurci:”
“‘The captain’s personal appearance is well calculated to increase his prestige, and each and every one of his men would willingly follow him to the death.
“‘This intrepid corsair is about forty years of age. Though only of medium height, he is remarkably agile and robust; his physiognomy is both virile and expressive; his eagle eye, the imperious carriage of his head, and his resolute bearing all show him to be a man born to command. His real name and origin is shrouded in mystery, but many persons are of the opinion that he is a native of Brittany, basing the supposition upon the costume he always wears on shipboard. Others think the captain came from some southern province, and that he adopted the Breton costume merely from motives of convenience.
