Chapter 1. Marseilles—The Arrival
On the 24th of February, 1815, the look-out at Notre-Dame de la Gardesignalled the three-master, the Pharaon from Smyrna, Trieste, andNaples.
As usual, a pilot put off immediately, and rounding the Château d’If,got on board the vessel between Cape Morgiou and Rion island.
Immediately, and according to custom, the ramparts of Fort Saint-Jeanwere covered with spectators; it is always an event at Marseilles for aship to come into port, especially when this ship, like the Pharaon, hasbeen built, rigged, and laden at the old Phocee docks, and belongs to anowner of the city.
The ship drew on and had safely passed the strait, which some volcanicshock has made between the Calasareigne and Jaros islands; had doubledPomègue, and approached the harbor under topsails, jib, and spanker, butso slowly and sedately that the idlers, with that instinct which is theforerunner of evil, asked one another what misfortune could havehappened on board. However, those experienced in navigation saw plainlythat if any accident had occurred, it was not to the vessel herself, forshe bore down with all the evidence of being skilfully handled, theanchor a-cockbill, the jib-boom guys already eased off, and standing bythe side of the pilot, who was steering the Pharaon towards the narrowentrance of the inner port, was a young man, who, with activity andvigilant eye, watched every motion of the ship, and repeated eachdirection of the pilot.
The vague disquietude which prevailed among the spectators had so muchaffected one of the crowd that he did not await the arrival of thevessel in harbor, but jumping into a small skiff, desired to be pulledalongside the Pharaon, which he reached as she rounded into La Réservebasin.
When the young man on board saw this person approach, he left hisstation by the pilot, and, hat in hand, leaned over the ship’s bulwarks.
He was a fine, tall, slim young fellow of eighteen or twenty, with blackeyes, and hair as dark as a raven’s wing; and his whole appearancebespoke that calmness and resolution peculiar to men accustomed fromtheir cradle to contend with danger.
“Ah, is it you, Dantès?” cried the man in the skiff. “What’s the matter?and why have you such an air of sadness aboard?”
“A great misfortune, M. Morrel,” replied the young man, “a greatmisfortune, for me especially! Off Civita Vecchia we lost our braveCaptain Leclere.”
“And the cargo?” inquired the owner, eagerly.
“Is all safe, M. Morrel; and I think you will be satisfied on that head.But poor Captain Leclere——”
“What happened to him?” asked the owner, with an air of considerableresignation. “What happened to the worthy captain?”
“He died.”
“Fell into the sea?”
“No, sir, he died of brain-fever in dreadful agony.” Then turning to thecrew, he said, “Bear a hand there, to take in sail!”
All hands obeyed, and at once the eight or ten seamen who composed thecrew, sprang to their respective stations at the spanker brails andouthaul, topsail sheets and halyards, the jib downhaul, and the topsailclewlines and buntlines. The young sailor gave a look to see that hisorders were promptly and accurately obeyed, and then turned again to theowner.
“And how did this misfortune occur?” inquired the latter, resuming theinterrupted conversation.
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“Alas, sir, in the most unexpected manner. After a long talk with theharbor-master, Captain Leclere left Naples greatly disturbed in mind. Intwenty-four hours he was attacked by a fever, and died three daysafterwards. We performed the usual burial service, and he is at hisrest, sewn up in his hammock with a thirty-six-pound shot at his headand his heels, off El Giglio island. We bring to his widow his sword andcross of honor. It was worth while, truly,” added the young man with amelancholy smile, “to make war against the English for ten years, and todie in his bed at last, like everybody else.”
“Why, you see, Edmond,” replied the owner, who appeared more comfortedat every moment, “we are all mortal, and the old must make way for theyoung. If not, why, there would be no promotion; and since you assure methat the cargo——”
“Is all safe and sound, M. Morrel, take my word for it; and I advise younot to take 25,000 francs for the profits of the voyage.”
Then, as they were just passing the Round Tower, the young man shouted:“Stand by there to lower the topsails and jib; brail up the spanker!”
The order was executed as promptly as it would have been on board a man-of-war.
“Let go—and clue up!” At this last command all the sails were lowered,and the vessel moved almost imperceptibly onwards.
“Now, if you will come on board, M. Morrel,” said Dantès, observing theowner’s impatience, “here is your supercargo, M. Danglars, coming out ofhis cabin, who will furnish you with every particular. As for me, I mustlook after the anchoring, and dress the ship in mourning.”
The owner did not wait for a second invitation. He seized a rope whichDantès flung to him, and with an activity that would have done credit toa sailor, climbed up the side of the ship, while the young man, going tohis task, left the conversation to Danglars, who now came towards theowner. He was a man of twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, ofunprepossessing countenance, obsequious to his superiors, insolent tohis subordinates; and this, in addition to his position as responsibleagent on board, which is always obnoxious to the sailors, made him asmuch disliked by the crew as Edmond Dantès was beloved by them.
“Well, M. Morrel,” said Danglars, “you have heard of the misfortune thathas befallen us?”
“Yes—yes: poor Captain Leclere! He was a brave and an honest man.”
“And a first-rate seaman, one who had seen long and honorable service,as became a man charged with the interests of a house so important asthat of Morrel & Son,” replied Danglars.
“But,” replied the owner, glancing after Dantès, who was watching theanchoring of his vessel, “it seems to me that a sailor needs not be soold as you say, Danglars, to understand his business, for our friendEdmond seems to understand it thoroughly, and not to require instructionfrom anyone.”
“Yes,” said Danglars, darting at Edmond a look gleaming with hate. “Yes,he is young, and youth is invariably self-confident. Scarcely was thecaptain’s breath out of his body when he assumed the command withoutconsulting anyone, and he caused us to lose a day and a half at theIsland of Elba, instead of making for Marseilles direct.”
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“As to taking command of the vessel,” replied Morrel, “that was his dutyas captain’s mate; as to losing a day and a half off the Island of Elba,he was wrong, unless the vessel needed repairs.”
“The vessel was in as good condition as I am, and as, I hope you are, M.Morrel, and this day and a half was lost from pure whim, for thepleasure of going ashore, and nothing else.”
“Dantès,” said the shipowner, turning towards the young man, “come thisway!”
“In a moment, sir,” answered Dantès, “and I’m with you.” Then calling tothe crew, he said, “Let go!”
The anchor was instantly dropped, and the chain ran rattling through theport-hole. Dantès continued at his post in spite of the presence of thepilot, until this manœuvre was completed, and then he added, “Half-mastthe colors, and square the yards!”
“You see,” said Danglars, “he fancies himself captain already, upon myword.”
“And so, in fact, he is,” said the owner.
“Except your signature and your partner’s, M. Morrel.”
“And why should he not have this?” asked the owner; “he is young, it istrue, but he seems to me a thorough seaman, and of full experience.”
A cloud passed over Danglars’ brow.
“Your pardon, M. Morrel,” said Dantès, approaching, “the vessel nowrides at anchor, and I am at your service. You hailed me, I think?”
Danglars retreated a step or two. “I wished to inquire why you stoppedat the Island of Elba?”
“I do not know, sir; it was to fulfil the last instructio
ns of CaptainLeclere, who, when dying, gave me a packet for Marshal Bertrand.”
“Then did you see him, Edmond?”
“Who?”
“The marshal.”
“Yes.”
Morrel looked around him, and then, drawing Dantès on one side, he saidsuddenly—
“And how is the emperor?”
“Very well, as far as I could judge from the sight of him.”
“You saw the emperor, then?”
“He entered the marshal’s apartment while I was there.”
“And you spoke to him?”
“Why, it was he who spoke to me, sir,” said Dantès, with a smile.
“And what did he say to you?”
“Asked me questions about the vessel, the time she left Marseilles, thecourse she had taken, and what was her cargo. I believe, if she had notbeen laden, and I had been her master, he would have bought her. But Itold him I was only mate, and that she belonged to the firm of Morrel &Son. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘I know them. The Morrels have been shipownersfrom father to son; and there was a Morrel who served in the sameregiment with me when I was in garrison at Valence.’”
“Pardieu! and that is true!” cried the owner, greatly delighted. “Andthat was Policar Morrel, my uncle, who was afterwards a captain. Dantès,you must tell my uncle that the emperor remembered him, and you will seeit will bring tears into the old soldier’s eyes. Come, come,” continuedhe, patting Edmond’s shoulder kindly, “you did very right, Dantès, tofollow Captain Leclere’s instructions, and touch at Elba, although if itwere known that you had conveyed a packet to the marshal, and hadconversed with the emperor, it might bring you into trouble.”
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“How could that bring me into trouble, sir?” asked Dantès; “for I didnot even know of what I was the bearer; and the emperor merely made suchinquiries as he would of the first comer. But, pardon me, here are thehealth officers and the customs inspectors coming alongside.” And theyoung man went to the gangway. As he departed, Danglars approached, andsaid,—
“Well, it appears that he has given you satisfactory reasons for hislanding at Porto-Ferrajo?”
“Yes, most satisfactory, my dear Danglars.”
“Well, so much the better,” said the supercargo; “for it is not pleasantto think that a comrade has not done his duty.”
“Dantès has done his,” replied the owner, “and that is not saying much.It was Captain Leclere who gave orders for this delay.”
“Talking of Captain Leclere, has not Dantès given you a letter fromhim?”
“To me?—no—was there one?”
“I believe that, besides the packet, Captain Leclere confided a letterto his care.”
“Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars?”
“Why, that which Dantès left at Porto-Ferrajo.”
“How do you know he had a packet to leave at Porto-Ferrajo?”
Danglars turned very red.
“I was passing close to the door of the captain’s cabin, which was halfopen, and I saw him give the packet and letter to Dantès.”
“He did not speak to me of it,” replied the shipowner; “but if there beany letter he will give it to me.”
Danglars reflected for a moment. “Then, M. Morrel, I beg of you,” saidhe, “not to say a word to Dantès on the subject. I may have beenmistaken.”
At this moment the young man returned; Danglars withdrew.
“Well, my dear Dantès, are you now free?” inquired the owner.
“Yes, sir.”
“You have not been long detained.”
“No. I gave the custom-house officers a copy of our bill of lading; andas to the other papers, they sent a man off with the pilot, to whom Igave them.”
“Then you have nothing more to do here?”
“No—everything is all right now.”
“Then you can come and dine with me?”
“I really must ask you to excuse me, M. Morrel. My first visit is due tomy father, though I am not the less grateful for the honor you have doneme.”
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“Right, Dantès, quite right. I always knew you were a good son.”
“And,” inquired Dantès, with some hesitation, “do you know how my fatheris?”
“Well, I believe, my dear Edmond, though I have not seen him lately.”
“Yes, he likes to keep himself shut up in his little room.”
“That proves, at least, that he has wanted for nothing during yourabsence.”
Dantès smiled. “My father is proud, sir, and if he had not a meal left,I doubt if he would have asked anything from anyone, except fromHeaven.”
“Well, then, after this first visit has been made we shall count onyou.”
“I must again excuse myself, M. Morrel, for after this first visit hasbeen paid I have another which I am most anxious to pay.”
“True, Dantès, I forgot that there was at the Catalans someone whoexpects you no less impatiently than your father—the lovely Mercédès.”
Dantès blushed.
“Ah, ha,” said the shipowner, “I am not in the least surprised, for shehas been to me three times, inquiring if there were any news of thePharaon. Peste! Edmond, you have a very handsome mistress!”
“She is not my mistress,” replied the young sailor, gravely; “she is mybetrothed.”
“Sometimes one and the same thing,” said Morrel, with a smile.
“Not with us, sir,” replied Dantès.
“Well, well, my dear Edmond,” continued the owner, “don’t let me detainyou. You have managed my affairs so well that I ought to allow you allthe time you require for your own. Do you want any money?”
“No, sir; I have all my pay to take—nearly three months’ wages.”
“You are a careful fellow, Edmond.”
“Say I have a poor father, sir.”
“Yes, yes, I know how good a son you are, so now hasten away to see yourfather. I have a son too, and I should be very wroth with those whodetained him from me after a three months’ voyage.”
“Then I have your leave, sir?”
“Yes, if you have nothing more to say to me.”
“Nothing.”
“Captain Leclere did not, before he died, give you a letter for me?”
“He was unable to write, sir. But that reminds me that I must ask yourleave of absence for some days.”
“To get married?”
“Yes, first, and then to go to Paris.”
“Very good; have what time you require, Dantès. It will take quite sixweeks to unload the cargo, and we cannot get you ready for sea untilthree months after that; only be back again in three months, for thePharaon,” added the owner, patting the young sailor on the back, “cannotsail without her captain.”
“Without her captain!” cried Dantès, his eyes sparkling with animation;“pray mind what you say, for you are touching on the most secret wishesof my heart. Is it really your intention to make me captain of thePharaon?”
“If I were sole owner we’d shake hands on it now, my dear Dantès, andcall it settled; but I have a partner, and you know the Italianproverb—Chi ha compagno ha padrone—‘He who has a partner has a master.’But the thing is at least half done, as you have one out of two votes.Rely on me to procure you the other; I will do my best.”
“Ah, M. Morrel,” exclaimed the young seaman, with tears in his eyes, andgrasping the owner’s hand, “M. Morrel, I thank you in the name of myfather and of Mercédès.”
“That’s all right, Edmond. There’s a providence that watches over thedeserving. Go to your father; go and see Mercédès, and afterwards cometo me.”
“Shall I row you ashore?”
“No, thank you; I shall remain and look over the accounts with Danglars.Have you been satisfied with him this voyage?”
“That is according to the sense you attach to the question, sir. Do youmean is he a good comrade? No, for I think he never liked me since theday when I was silly enough, after a little quar
rel we had, to proposeto him to stop for ten minutes at the island of Monte Cristo to settlethe dispute—a proposition which I was wrong to suggest, and he quiteright to refuse. If you mean as responsible agent when you ask me thequestion, I believe there is nothing to say against him, and that youwill be content with the way in which he has performed his duty.”
“But tell me, Dantès, if you had command of the Pharaon should you beglad to see Danglars remain?”
“Captain or mate, M. Morrel, I shall always have the greatest respectfor those who possess the owners’ confidence.”
“That’s right, that’s right, Dantès! I see you are a thoroughly goodfellow, and will detain you no longer. Go, for I see how impatient youare.”
“Then I have leave?”
“Go, I tell you.”
“May I have the use of your skiff?”
“Certainly.”
“Then, for the present, M. Morrel, farewell, and a thousand thanks!”
“I hope soon to see you again, my dear Edmond. Good luck to you.”
The young sailor jumped into the skiff, and sat down in the sternsheets, with the order that he be put ashore at La Canebière. The twooarsmen bent to their work, and the little boat glided away as rapidlyas possible in the midst of the thousand vessels which choke up thenarrow way which leads between the two rows of ships from the mouth ofthe harbor to the Quai d’Orléans.
The shipowner, smiling, followed him with his eyes until he saw himspring out on the quay and disappear in the midst of the throng, whichfrom five o’clock in the morning until nine o’clock at night, swarms inthe famous street of La Canebière,—a street of which the modern Phocéensare so proud that they say with all the gravity in the world, and withthat accent which gives so much character to what is said, “If Paris hadLa Canebière, Paris would be a second Marseilles.” On turning round theowner saw Danglars behind him, apparently awaiting orders, but inreality also watching the young sailor,—but there was a great differencein the expression of the two men who thus followed the movements ofEdmond Dantès.
The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 2
