,,Vo{ /2 67.,[
I.'    mLIBRARY OF SELECT NOVELS,. u
THE
~FOILEt~S OF THE SEA t'
SL~ t IV I C T O    -H IT G O,1 
AUTIIOR OF
1       T O"LERS      I  TH SER.BLIES".'
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BREOTHEERS, PUBLISHERS,  (
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1866.
K. UUUHDIIALL THE WORKS IN THIS SERIES AREB
*'~~ss^^'<o-^   Unabridged and Unaltered,
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;~~~~~~~~~
iil'K'
II
IWO,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




VICTOR HUGO.
THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
A NOVEL.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
F AN KLIN SQUAR E.
i866.








THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
FIRST PART.-SIEUR CLUBIN.
BOOK I.
THE HISTORY OF A BAD REPUTATION.
I.                    for a Parisian. She walked on with a light and
A W D WITTEN ON  WHITE PAGE.  free step, so little suggestive of the burden of
A WORD WRITTEN ON A WHITE PAGE...     v
life that it might easily be seen that she was
CHRISTMAS day in the year 182- was some- young. Her movements possessed that subtle
what remarkable in the island of Guernsey. grace which indicates the most delicate of all
Snow fell on that day. In the Channel Isl- transitions-that soft intermingling, as it were,
andsa frosty winter is remarkable, and a fall of two twilights-the passage from the condiof snow is an event.                     tion of a child to that of womanhood. The
On that Christmas morning, the road which man seemed to take no heed of her.
skirts the seashore from St. Pierre Port au  Suddenly, near a group of oaks at the corner
Valle was clothed in white. From midnight of a field, and at the spot called the Basses
till the break of day the snow had been falling. Maisons, she turned, and the movement seemed
Towards nine o'clock, a little after the rising of to attract the attention of the man. She stopthe wintry sun, as it was too early yet for the ped, seemed to reflect a moment, then stooped,
Church of England folks to go to St. Samp- and the man fancied that he could discern that
son's, or for the Wesleyans to repair to Eldad she was tracing with her finger some letters in
Chapel, the road was almost deserted. Through- the snow. Then she rose again, went on her
out that portion of the highway which separates way at a quicker pace, turned once more, this
the first from the second tower, only three foot- time smiling, and disappeared to the left of the
passengers could be seen. These were a child, roadway, by the footpath under the hedges which
a man, and a woman. Walking at a distance leads to the Chateau de Lierre. When she
from each other, these wayfarers had no visible had turned for the second time, the man had
connection. The child, a boy of about eight recognized her as Deruchette, a charming girl
years old, had stopped, and was looking curi- of that neighbourhood.
qusly at the wintry scene. The man walked   The man felt no need of quickening his pace;
behind the woman, at a distance of about a and some minutes later he found himself near
hundred paces. Like her he was coming from  the group of oaks. Already he had ceased to
the direction of the church of St. Sampson. think of the vanished Deruchette; and if, at
The appearance of the man, who was still young, that moment, a porpoise had appeared above
was something between that of a workman and the water or a robin had caught his eye in the
a sailor. He wore his working-day clothes-a hedges, it is probable that he would have passed
kind of Guernsey shirt of coarse brown stuff, on his way. But it happened that his eyes
and trousers partly concealed by tarpaulin leg- were fixed upon the ground; his gaze fell megins-a costume which seemed to indicate that, chanically upon the spot where the girl had
notwithstanding the holy day, he was going to stopped. Two little footprints were there plainno place of worship. His heavy shoes of rough ly visible; and beside them he read this word,
leather, with their soles covered with large nails, evidently written by her in the snowleft upon the snow, as he walked, a print more           GIL  ATT"
like that of a prison lock than the foot of a man.
The woman, on the contrary, was evidently   It was his own name.
dressed for church.  She wore a large mantle  He lingered for awhile motionless, looking at
of black silk, wadded, under which she had co- the letters, the little footprints, and the snow;
quettishly adjusted a dress of Irish poplin, trim- and then walked on, evidently in a thoughtful
med alternately with white and pink; but for mood.
her red stockings, she might have been taken 




6                          THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
II.                     Channel, have many precautions to take at sea,
T A B  DE LAby reason of the illusions with which Satan environs them.  It has long been an article of
GILLIATT lived in the parish of St. Sampson. popular faith, that Saint Maclou inhabited the
He was not liked by his neighbours; and there great square rock called Ortach, in the sea bewere reasons for that fact.                 tween Auvigny and Les Casquets; and many
To begin with, he lived in a queer kind of old sailors used to declare that they had often
"haunted" dwelling.  In the islands of Jersey seen him there, seated and reading in a book.
and Guernsey, sometimes in the country, but Accordingly the sailors, as they passed, were
often in streets with many inhabitants, you will in the habit of kneeling many times before the
come upon a house the entrance to which is Ortach rock, until the day when the fable was
completely barricaded.  Holly bushes obstruct destroyed, and the truth took its place. It has
the doorway, hideous boards, with nails, con- been discovered, and is now well established,
ceal the windows below; while the casements that the lonely inhabitant of the rock is not a
of the upper stories are neither closed nor open: saint, but a devil. This evil spirit, whose name
all the window-frames are dusty and the glass is Jochmus, had the impudence to pass himself
broken.  If there is a little yard, grass grows off, for many centuries, as Saint Maclou.. Even
between its stones; and the parapet of its wall the Church hreself is not proof against snares
is crumbling away. If there is a garden, it is of this kind. The demons Raguhel, Oribel,
choked with nettles, brambles, and hemlock, and Tobiel, were regarded as saints until the
and strange insects abound in it. The chim- year 745; when Pope Zachary, having at length
neys are cracked, the roof is falling in; so unearthed them, turned them  out of saintly
much as can be seen from without of the rooms company. This sort of weeding of the saintly
presents a dismantled appearance. The wood- calendar is certainly very useful; but it can
work is rotten; the stone mildewed. The pa- only be practised by very accomplished judges
per of the walls has dropped away and hangs of devils and their ways.
loose, until it presents a history of the bygone  The old inhabitants of these parts relatefashions of paper-hangings-the scrawling pat- though all this refers to bygone times-that the
terns of the time of the Empire, the crescent- Catholic population of the Norman Archipelago
shaped draperies of the Directory, the balus- was once, though quite involuntary, even in
trades and pillars of the days of Louis XVI. more intimate correspondence with the powers
The thick draperies of cobwebs, filled with flies, of darkness than the Huguenots themselves.
indicate the quiet reign long enjoyed by innu- How this happened, however, we do not premerable spiders. Sometimes a broken jug may tend to say: but it is certain that the people
be noticed on a shelf. Such houses are consid- suffered considerable annoyance from this cause.
ered to be haunted.  Satan is popularly believed It appears that Satan had taken a fancy to the
to visit them by night.  Houses are like the Catholics, and sought their company a good
human beings who inhabit them. They become deal-a circumstance which has given rise to
to their former selves what the corpse is to the the belief that the Devil is more Catholic than
living body. A superstitious belief among the Protestant.  One of his most insufferable fapeople is-sufficient to reduce them to this state miliarities consisted in paying nocturnal visits
of death. Then their aspect is terrible. These to married Catholics in bed, just at the moment
ghostly'houses are common in the Channel Isl- when the husband had fallen fast asleep, and
ands.                                      the wife had begun to doze: a fruitful source
The rural and maritime populations are ea- of domestic trouble. Patouillet was of opinion
sily moved with notions of the active agency that a faithful biography of Voltaire ought not
of the powers of evil. Among the Channel to be without some allusion to this practice of
Isles, and on the neighbouring coast of France, the Evil One. The truth of all this is perfectly
the ideas:of the people, on this subject, are well known, and described in the forms of exdeeply rooted.  In their view, Belzebub has communication in the rubric cde erroribus nochis ministers in all parts of the earth. It is turnis et de sermine diabolorum. The practice
certain that Belphegor is the ambassador from  was raging particularly at St. Heller's towards
the infernal regions in France, Hutgin in Italy, the end of the last century, probably as a punBelial in Turkey, Thamug in Spain, Martinet ishment for the Revolution; for the evil consein Switzerland, and Mammon in England. Sa- quences of revolutionary excesses are incalculatan is an emperor just like any other: a sort ble. However this may have been, it is cerof Satan Crsar. His establishment is well or- tain that this possibility of a visit from the deganized. Dagon is grand almoner, Succor Be- mon at night, when it is impossible to see disnoth is chief of the Eunuchs; Asmodeus, bank- tinctly, or even in slumber, caused much emer at the gaming-table; Kobal, manager of the barrassment among orthodox dames. The idea
theatre, and Verdelet grand-master of the cere- of giving to the world a Voltaire was by no
monies. Nybbas is the court fool; Wierus, a means a pleasant one.  One of these, in some
savant, a good strygologue, and a man of much anxiety, consulted her confessor'on this exlearning in demonology, calls Nybbas the great tremely difficult subject, and the best mode for
parodist.                                  timely discovery of the cheat. The confessor
The Norman fishermen, who frequent the replied, "In order to be sure that it is your




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 7
husband by your side, and not a demon, place  The last instance of burning sorcerers in
your hand upon his head. If you find horns, Guernsey took place in1747. The city authoriyou may be sure"-" Of what?" inquired the ties devoted one of its squares, forming the Cardame.                                     refour du Bordage, to that ceremony. Between
Gilliatt's house had been haunted, but it was 1565 and 1700, eleven sorcerers have thus sufno longer in that condition  it was for that rea- fered at this spot. As a rule the criminals
son, however, only regarded with more suspi- made confession of their guilt. The Carrefour
cion. No one learned in demonology can be du Bordage has indeed rendered many other
unaware of the fact, that when a sorcerer has services to society and religion. It was here
installed himself in a haunted dwelling, the that heretics were brought to the stake. Under
Devil considers the house sufficiently occupied, Queen Mary, among other Huguenots burnt
and is polite enough to abstain from visiting here were a mother and two daughters. The
there; unless called in, like the doctor, on some name of the mother was Perrotine Massy. One
special occasion.                         of the daughters was enceinte, and was delivered
This house was known by the name of the of a child even in the midst of the flames. As
Bf de la Rue. It was situated at the extremi- the old chronicle expresses it, "Son ventre gclaty of a little promontory, rather of rock than of ta."  The new-born infant rolled out of the fiery
land, forming a small harbourage apart in the furnace. A man named House took it in his
creek of Houmet Paradis. The water at this arms. Helier Eosselin the bailli, like a good
spot is deep. The house stood quite alone upon Catholic as he was, sternly commanded the child
the point, almost separated from the island, and to be cast again into the fire.
with just sufficient ground about it for a small
garden, which was sometimes inundated by thehigh tides. Between the port of St. Sampson
and the creek of Houmet Paradis rises a steep                III.
hill, surmounted by the block of towers covered            WHEN YOU SHALL MARRY.
rOR YOUR WIFE: WHEN YOU SHALL MARRY.
with ivy, and known as the Chateau du Valle,
or the Chateau de l'Archange; so that, at St.  LET US return to Gilliatt.
Sampson, the Bf de la Rue was shut out from  The country people told how, towards the
sight.                                    close of the great Revolution, a woman, bringNothing is commonerthan sorcerersinGuern- ing with her a little child, came to live in
sey. They exercise their profession in certain Guernsey.  She was an Englishwoman; at
parishes, in profound indifference to the enlight- least she was not French.  She had a name
enment of the nineteenth century. Some of which the Guernsey pronunciation and the countheir practices are downright criminal. They try folks' bad spelling had finally converted into
set gold boiling, they gather herbs at midnight, "Gilliatt."  She lived alone with the child,
they cast sinister looks upon the people's cattle. which, according to some, was a nephew; acWhen the people consult them they send for cording to others, a son; according to others,
bottles containing "water of the sick," and they again, a strange child whom she was protecting.
are heard to mutter mysteriously "the water She had some means; enough to struggle on in
has a sad look." In March, 1857, one of them  a poor way. She had purchased a small plot
discovered, in water of this kind, seven demons. of ground at La Sergentee, and another at La
They are universally feared. One of them only Roque Crespel, near Rocquame. The house of
lately bewitched a baker "as well as his oven." the Bu de la Rue was at this period haunted.
Another had the diabolical wickedness to wafer For more than thirty years no one had inhabitand seal up envelopes " containing nothing in- ed it. It was falling into ruins. The garden,
side."  Another went so far as to have on a so often invaded by the sea, could produce nothshelf three bottles labelled "B."  These mon- ing. Besides noises and lights seen there at
strous facts are well authenticated. Some of night-time, the house had this mysterious pecuthese sorcerers are obliging, and for two or liarity: any one who should leave there in the
three guineas will take -on themselves the com- evening, upon the mantelpiece, a ball of worstplaint from which you are suffering. Then ed, a few needles, and a plate filled with soup,
they are seen to roll upon their beds, and to would assuredly find, in the morning, the soup
groan with pain; and while they are in these consumed, the plate empty, and a pair of mitagonies the believer exclaims, "There! I am  tens ready knitted. The house, demon included,
well again."  Others cure -all kinds of diseases was offered for sale for a few pounds sterling.
by merely tying a handkerchief round their pa- The stranger woman became the purchaser; evtients' loins, a remedy so simple that it is aston- idently tempted by the devil, or by the advanishing that no one had yet thought of it. In tageous bargain.
the last century, the Cour Royale of Guernsey  She did more than purchase the house, she
bound such folks upon a heap of fagots, and took up her abode there with the child, and
burnt them alive. In these days it condemns from that moment peace reigned within its walls.
them to eight weeks imprisonment, four weeks The Bu de la Rue has found a fit tenant, said
on bread and water, and the remainder of the the country people.  The haunting ceased.
term in solitary confinement. Amant alterna There was no longer any light seen there, save
catenae.                                  that of the tallow candle of the new comer.




8                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
"Sorcerer's candle is as good as the devil's but they were sufficient for each other. Louve
torch."  The proverb satisfied the gossips of the et louveteau se pourlechent. This was another
neighbourhood.                            of the generous proverbs which the neighbourThe woman cultivated some acres of land hood applied to them. Meanwhile, the youth
which belonged to her.  She had a good cow, grew to manhood; and then' as the old and
of the sort which produces yellow butter.  She withered bark falls from the tree, the mother
gathered her white beans, cauliflowers, and died.  She left to her son the little field of
"Golden drop" potatoes. She sold, like other Sergentee, the small property called La Roque
people, her parsnips by the tonneau, her onions Crespel, and the house known as La Bd de la
by the hundred, and her beans by the denerel. Rue; with the addition, as the official invenShe did not go herself to market, but disposed tory said, of "one hundred guineas in gold in
of her crops through the agency of Guilbert Fal- the pid d'une cauche"-that is to say, in the foot
liot, at the sign of the Abreveurs of Saint Samp- of a stocking. The house was already suffison. The register of Falliot bears evidence that ciently furnished with two oaken chests, two
Falliot sold for her, on one occasion, as much as beds, six chairs and a table, besides necessary
twelve bushels of rare early potatoes.    household utensils. Upon a shelf were some
The house had been meanly repaired; but books, and in the corner a trunk, by no means
sufficiently to make it habitable. It was only of a mysterious character, which had to be
in very bad weather that the rain-drops found opened for the inventory. This trunk was of
their way through the ceilings of the rooms. drab leather, ornamented with brass nails and
The interior consisted of a ground-floor suite of little stars of white metals, and it contained a
rooms, and a granary overhead. The ground- lady's outfit, new and complete, of beautiful
floor was divided into three rooms; two for Dunkirk linen -chemises and petticoats, and
sleeping, and one for meals. A ladder con- some silk dresses —with a paper on which was
nected the ground-floor with the granary above. written, in the handwriting of the deceasedThe woman attended to the kitchen and taught  "For your wife: when you shall marry."
the child to read.  She did not go to church or  The loss of his mother was a terrible blow
chapel, which, all things considered, led to the for the young man. His disposition had alconclusion that she must be French not to go ways been unsociable; he became now moody
to a place of worship. The circumstance was and sullen. The solitude around him was comgrave. In short, the new comers were a puzzle plete. Hitherto it had been mere isolation;
to the neighbourhood.                     now his life was a dreary blank. While we
That the woman was French seemed proba- have only one companion, life is endurable;
ble. Volcanoes cast forth stones, and revolu- left alone, it seems as if it is impossible to
tions men, so families are removed to distant struggle on, and we fall back in the race, which
places; human beings come to pass their lives is the first sign of despair. As time rolls on,
far from their native homes; groups of relatives however, we discover that ddty is a series of
and friends disperse and decay; strange people compromises; we contemplate life, regard its
fall, as it were, from the clouds-some in Ger- end, and submit; but it is a submission which
many, some in England, some in America. The makes the heart bleed.
people of the country view them with surprise  Gilliatt was young; and his wound healed
and curiosity. Whence come these strange with time. At that age sorrows cannot be lastfaces? Yonder mountain, smoking with revo- ing. His sadness, disappearing by slow delutionary fires, casts them out. These barren grees, seemed to mingle itself with the scenes
aerolites, these famished and ruined people, around him, to draw.him more and more tothese footballs of destiny, are known as refugees, wards the face of nature, and further and furemigrds, adventurers. If they sojourn among ther from the need of social converse; and,
strangers, they are tolerated; if they depart, finally, to assimilate his spirit more completely
there is a feeling of relief. Sometimes these to the solitude in which he lived.
wanderers areharmless, inoffensive people, strangers - at least, as regards the women - to theevents which have led to their exile, objects of
persecution, helpless and astonished at their fate.          IV.
They take root again somewhere as they can.
AN UNPOPULAR MAN.
They have done no harm to any one, and
scarcely comprehend the destiny that has be-  GILLIATT, as we have said, was not popular
fallen them. So thus I have seen a poor tuft in his parish. Nothing could be more natural
of grass uprooted and carried away by the ex- than that antipathy among his neighbours. The
plosion of a mine. No great explosion was ever reasons for it were abundant. To begin with,
followed by more of such strays than the great as we have already explained, there was the
French Revolution.                        strange house he lived in; then there was his
The strange woman whom the Guernsey folks mysterious origin. Who could that woman
called " Gilliatt" was, possibly, one of these hu- have been? and what was the meaning of this
man waifs.                                child?  Country people do not like riddles
The woman grew older; the child became a when they relate to strange sojourners among
youth. They lived alone and avoided by all; them. Then his clothes were the clothes of a




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                9
workman, while he had, although certainly not than the Treaty of Doctor Tilingius upon the
rich, sufficient to live without labour. Then Rhubarb plant, published in Germany in 1679.
there was his garden, which he succeeded in  It was by no means certain that Gilliatt did
cultivating, and from which he produced crops not prepare philters and unholy decoctions. He
of potatoes, in spite of the stormy equinoxes; was undoubtedly in possession of certain phials.
and then there were the big books which he kept  Why did he walk abroad at evening, and
upon a shelf, and read from time to time.  sometimes even at midnight, do the cliffs? EvMore reasons: why did he live that solitary idently to hold converse with the evil spirits
life?  The BU de la Rzie was a kind of Laza- who, by night, frequent the sea-shores, envelretto, in which Gilliatt was kept in a sort of oped in smoke.
moral quarantine. This, in the popular judg-  On one occasion he had aided the sorceress,
ment, made it quite simple that people should De Torteval, to clean her chaise: this was an
be astonished at his isolation, and should hold old woman named Moutonne Gahy.
him responsible for the solitude which society  When a census was taken in the island, in
had made around his home.                 answer to a question about his calling, he reHe never went to chapel. He often went plied, "Fisherman; when there are fish to
out at night-time. He held converse with sor- catch."  Imagine yourself in the place of Gilcerers. He had been seen, on one occasion, liatt's neighbours, and admit that there is somesitting on the grass with an expression of as- thing unpleasant in answers like this.
tonishment on his features. He haunted the   Poverty and wealth are comparative sins.
druidical stones of the Ancresse, and the fairy Gilliatt had some fields and a house, his own
caverns which are scattered about in that part. property; compared with those who had nothIt was generally believed that he had been seen ing, he was not poor. One day, to test this,
politely saluting the Crowing Rock. He bought and perhaps also as a step towards a correspondall birds which people brought to him, and, ence-for there are base women who would marhaving bought them, set them at liberty. He ry a demon for the sake of riches-a young girl
was civil to the worthy folks in the streets of St. of the neighbourhood said to Gilliatt, "When
Sampson, but willingly turned out of his-way to are you going to take a wife, neighbour?"  He
avoid them if he could. He often went out on answered, "I will take a wife when the Crowfishing expeditions, and always returned with ing Rock takes a husband."
fish. He trimmed his garden on Sundays. He   This Crowing Rock is a great stone, standing
had bagpipes which he had bought from one of in a field near Mons. Lemezurier de Fry's. It
the Highland soldiers who are sometimes in is a stone of a highly suspicious character. No
Guernsey, and on which he played occasionally one knows what deeds are done around it. At
at twilight, on the rocks by the sea-shore. He times you may hear there a cock crowing, when
had been seen to make strange gestures, like no cock is near-an extremely disagreeable cirthose of one sowing seeds. What kind of cumstance. Then it is commonly asserted that
treatment could be expected for a man like this stone was originally placed in the field by
that?                                    the elfin people known as Sarreyousels, who are
As regards the books left by the deceased the same as the Sins.
woman, which he was in the habit of reading,  At night, when it thunders, if you should hapthe neighbours were particularly suspicious. pen to see men flying in the lurid light of the
The Reverend Jaquemin Herode, rector of St. clouds, or on the rolling waves of the air, these
Sampson, when he visited the house at the time are no other than the Sarregousels. A woman
of the woman's funeral, had read on the backs who lives at the Grand Mielles knows them well.
of these books the title "Rosier Dictionary." One evening, when someSarregousels happened
"Candide," by Voltaire. "Advice to the Peo- to be assembled at a cross-road, this woman
pie on Health," by Tissot. A French noble, cried out to a man with a cart, who did not
one Gringre, who had retired to St. Sampson, know which route to take, "Ask them your
remarked that this Tissot "must have been the way. They are civil folks, and always ready
Tissot who carried the head of the Princess de to direct a stranger." There can be little doubt
Lamballe upon a pike."                    that this woman was a sorceress.
The Reverend gentleman had also remarked  The learned and judicious King James I. had
upon one of these books the highly fantastic women of this kind boiled, and then tasting the
and terribly significant title, "De Rhubarbaro." water of the cauldron, was able to say from its
In justice to Gilliatt, however, it must be add- flavour, " That was a sorceress;" or "That was
ed that this volume being in Latin-a language not one."
which it is doubtful if he understood-the young  It is to be regretted that the kings of these
man had possibly never read it.           latter days no longer possess a talent which
But it is just those books which a man pos- placed in so strong a light the utility of monsesses, but does not read, which constitute the archical institutions.
most suspicious evidence against him. The   It was not without substantial grounds that
Spanish Inquisition have deliberated on that Gilliatt lived in this odour of sorcery. One
point, and have come to a conclusion which midnight, during a storm, Gilliatt being at sea
places the matter beyond further doubt.   alone in a bark, on the coast by La SozmeilThe book in question, however, was no other leuse, he was heard to ask



10                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
"Is there a passage sufficient-for me?"  in question.  Now both these circumstances
And a voice cried from the heights above:  were injurious to the reputation of Gilliatt.
"Passage enough: steer boldly."           Only the most ignorant are unaware of the
To whom could he have been speaking, if not fact that the greatest danger of the coasts of the
to those who replied to him? This seems some- Channel Islands is the King of the Auxcriniers.
thing like evidence.                      No inhabitant of the seas is more redoubtable.
Another time; one stormy evening, when it Whoever has seen him is certain to be wrecked
was so dark that nothing could be distinguished, before one St. Michel and the other. He is litGilliatt was near the Catian Roque-a double tie, being in fact a dwarf; and is deaf, in his
row of rocks where witches, goats, and other dia- quality of king. He knows the names of all
bolical creatures assemble and dance on Fridays those who have been drowned in the seas, and
-and here it is firmly believed that the voice the spots where they lie. He has a profound
of Gilliatt was heard, mingling in the following knowledge of the great grave-yard which stretchterrible conversation:                    es far and wide beneath the waters of the ocean.
" How is Vesin Brorard?" (This was a ma- A head, massive in the lower part and narrow
son who had fallen from the roof of a house.)  in the forehead; a squat and corpulent figure;
" He is getting better."                a skull, covered with warty excrescences; long
" Ver dia! he fell from a greater height than legs, long arms, fins for feet, claws for hands,
that of yonder peak. It is delightful to think and a sea-green countenance; such are the chief
that he was not dashed to pieces."        characteristics of this king of the waves. His
"Our folks had a fine time at the shipwreck claws have palms like hands; his fins have hulast week."                              jman nails. Imagine a spectral fish with the
"Aye, finer than to-day."               face of a human being. No power could check
" I believe you. There will be little fish -at his career unless he could be exorcised, or maythe market to-day."                        hap fished up from the sea. Meanwhile he;"It blows too hard."                   continues his sinister operations. Nothing is
"They can't lower their nets."          more unpleasant than an interview with this
L How is Catherine?"                   monster: beside the rolling waves and breakers,
"She is charming."                      orin the thick of the mist, the sailor perceives,
Catherine was evidently the name of a Sarre- sometimes, a strange creature with a beetle
gousel.                                   brow, wide nostrils, flattened ears, an enormous
According to all appearance, Gilliatt had mouth, gap-toothed jaws, peaked eyebrows, and
business on hand at night; at least none doubt- great grinning eyes. When the lightning is liv.
ed it                                     id, he appears red; when it is purple, he looks
SOmetimes he was seen with a pitcher in his wan. He has a stiff spreading beard, running
hand, pouring water on the ground. Now wa- with water, and overlapping a sort of pelerine,
ter, cast upon the ground, is known to make a ornamented with fourteen shells, seven before
shape like that of devils.                and seven behind. These shells are curious
On the road to Saint Sampson, opposite the to those who are learned in conchology. The
Martello tower number 1, stand'three stones, ar- king of the Auxcriniers is only seen in stormy
ranged in the form of steps. Upon the platform  seas. He is the terrible harbinger of the temof those stones, now empty, stood anciently a pest. His-hideous form traces itself in the fog,
cross, or perhaps a gallows. These stones are in the squall, in the tempest of rain. His breast
full of evil influences.                  is hideous. A coat of scales covers his sides
Staid and worthy people, and perfectly cred- like a vest. He rises above the waves which fly
ible witnesses, testified to having seen Gilliatt before the wind, twisting and curling like thin
at this spot conversing with a toad. Now there shavings of wood beneath the carpenter's plane.
are no toads at Guernsey, the share of Guern- Then his entire form issues out of the foam, and
sey in the reptiles of the Channel Isles consist- if there should happen to be in the horizon any
ing exclusively of the snakes. It is Jersey that vessels in distress, pale in the twilight, or his
has all the. toads. This toad, then, must have face lighted up with a sinister smile, he dances
swum from the neighbouring island, in order to terrible and uncouth to behold. It is an evil
hold converse with Gilliatt. The converse was omen indeed to meet him on a voyage.
of a friendly kind.                          At the period when the people of Saint SampThese facts were clearly established; and the son were particularly excited on the subject of
proof is that the three stones are there to this Gilliatt, the last persons who had seen the king
day. Those? who doubt it may go and see of the Auxcriniers declared that his pelerine
them; and at a little distance, there is also a was now ornamented with only thirteen shells.
house on which the passer-by may read this in- Thirteen! He was only the more dangerous.
scription:                                But what had become of the fourteenth?  Had
"DEALER IN CATTLE, ALIVE AND DEAD, he given it to some one? No one would say
OLD CORDAGE, IRON, BONES, AND TOBACCO FOR positively; and folks confined themselves to conCHEWING, PROMPT PAYMENT FOR GOODS, AND jecture. But it was an undoubted fact that a
EVERx ATTENTION GIVEN TO ORDERS."         certain Mons. Lupin Mabier, of Godaines, a man
A man must be sceptical indeed to contest of property, paying a good sum to the land tax,
the existence of those stones, and of the house was ready to depose on oath that he had once




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                11
seen in the hands of Gilliatt a very remarkable self to St. Pierre Port, and had returned with
kind of shell.                             an ointment, with which he rubbed the child's
It was not uncommon to hear dialogues like head.  Thus Gilliatt had removed the pest
the following among the country people:    from the poor child, which was an evidence
"I have a fine bull here, neighbour what do that Gilliatt himself had originally given it;
you say?"                                 for everybody knows that there is a certain
"Very fine, neighbour."                 charm for giving vermin to people.
"It is a fact? tho''tis I who say it; he is  Gilliatt was suspected oflooking into wellsbetter though for tallow than for meat."   a dangerous practice with those who have an
"Ver dial"                              evil eye; and, in fact, at Arculons, near St.
"Are you sure that Gilliatt hasn't cast his Pierre Port, the water of a well became uneye upon it?"                             wholesome. The good woman to whom this
Gilliatt would stop sometimes beside a field well belonged said to Gilliatt:
where some labourers were assembled, or near  " Look here, at this water;" and she showed
gardens in which gardeners were engaged, and him a glass full. Gilliatt acknowledged it.
would perhaps hear these mysterious words:   "The water is thick," he said; that is true."
"When the mors du diable flourishes, reap  The good woman, who dreaded him in her
the winter rye."                           heart, said, "Make it sweet again for me."
(The mors du diable is the scabwort plant.)  Gilliatt asked her some questions: whether
"The ash-tree is coming out in leaf. -There she had a stable? whether the stable had a
will be no more frost."                    drain? whether the gutter of the drain did not
"Summer solstice, thistle in flower."   pass near the well? The good woman replied
"If it rain not in June, the wheat will turn  " Yes."  Gilliatt went into the stable; worked
white. Look out for mildew."               at the drain; turned the gutter in another di"When the wild cherry appears, beware of rection; and the water became pure again.
the full moon."                            People in the country round thought what they
" If the weather on the sixth day of the new  pleased.  A well does not become foul one
moon is like that of the fourth, or like that of moment and sweet the next without good
the fifth day, it will be the same nine times out cause; the bottom of the affair was involved
of twelve in the first case, and eleven times in obscurity; and, in short, it was difficult to
out of twelve in the second, during the whole escape the conclusion that Gilliatt himself had
month."                                    bewitched the water.
"Keep your eye on neighbours who go to    On one occasion, when he went to Jersey, it
law with you. Beware of malicious influences. was remarked that he had taken a lodging in
A pig which has had warm milk given to it will the street called the Rue des Alleurs. Now the
die. A cow which has had its teeth rubbed with word alleurs signifies spirits from  the other
leeks will eat no more."                   world.
" Spawning time with the smelts; beware of  In villages it is the custom to gather tofevers."                                   gether all these little hints and indications of
"When frogs begin to appear, sow your a man's career; and when they are gathered
melons."                                  together, the total constitutes his reputation'"When the liverwort flowers, sow your bar- among the inhabitants.
ley."                                        It happened that Gilliatt was once surprised'"When the limes are in bloom, mow the with blood issuing from his nose. The circummeadows."                                  stance appeared grave. The master of a barque
"When the elm-tree flowers, open the hot- who had sailed almost entirely round the world
house panes."                             affirmed that among the Tongusians all sorcer"When tobacco-fields are in blossom, close ers were subject to bleeding at the nose. In
your green-houses."                       fact, when you see a man in those parts bleedAnd, fearful to relate, these occult precepts ing at the nose, you know at once what is in the
were not without truth. Those who put faith wind. Moderate reasoners, however, remarked
in them could vouch for the fact.         that the characteristics of sorcerers among the
One night, in the month of June, when Gil- Tongusians may possibly not apply in the same
liatt was playing upon his bagpipe, upon the degree to the sorcerers of Guernsey.
sand-hills on the.shore of the Demie de Fonte-  In the environs of one of the St. Michels, he
nelle, it had happened that the mackerel fishing had been seen to stop in a close belonging to
had failed.                               the Huriaux, skirting the highway from the
One evening, at low water, it happened that Videclins. He whistled in the field, and a
a cart filled with sea-weed for manure over- moment afterwards a crow alighted there; a
turned on the beach, in front of Gilliatt's house. moment later, a magpie.  The fact was atIt is most probable that he was afraid of being tested by a worthy man who has since been ap-.brought before the magistrates, for he took con- pointed to the office of Douzenier of the Dousiderable trouble in helping to raise the cart, zaine, as those are called who are authorized
and he filled it again himself.           to make a new survey and register of the fief
A little neglected child of the neighbourhood of the king.
being troubled with vermin, he had gone him-  At Hamel, in the Vingtaine of L'Epine,




12                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
there lived some old women who were positive particularly favourable to these ceremonies.
of having heard one morning a number of Ten years ago there lived, at Ormes in Gatiswallows distinctly calling " Gilliatt."   nais, one of these creatures who was nicknamed
Add to all this that he was of a spiteful temper. the Beau Marcou, and consulted by all the
One day, a poor man was beating an ass. country of Beauce. He was a cooper, named
The ass was obstinate. The poor man gave Foulon, who kept a horse and vehicle. To put
him a few kicks in the belly with his wooden a stop to his miracles, it was found necessary
shoe, and the ass fell. Gilliatt ran to raise the to call in the assistance of the gendarmes. His
unlucky beast, but he was dead. Upon this fleur-de-lys was on the left breast; other marGilliatt administered to the poor man a sound cous have it in different parts.
thrashing.                                   There are Marcous at Jersey, Auvigny,'and
Another day, Gilliatt seeing a boy come at Guernsey. This fact is doubtless in some
down from a tree with a brood of little birds, way connected with the rights possessed by
newly hatched and unfledged, he took the brood France over Normandy: or why the fleur-deaway from the boy, and carried his malevolence lys?
so far as even to carry them back and replace  There are also in the Channel Islands people
them in the tree.                         afflicted with scrofula, which of course necessiSome passers-by took up the boy's con- tates a due supply of these marcous.
plaint; but Gilliatt made no reply, except to  Some people, who happened to be present
point to the old birds, who were hovering and one day when Gilliatt was bathing in the sea,
crying plaintively over the tree, as they looked had fancied that they could perceive upon him
for their nest. He had a weakness for birds-  a fleur-de-lys. Interrogated on that subject he
another sign by which the people recognize a made no reply, but merely burst into laughter.
magician.                                 From that time, however, no one ever saw him
Children take a pleasure in robbing the nests bathe: he bathed thenceforth only in perilous
of birds along the cliff.  They bring home and solitary places; probably by moonlight: a
quantities of yellow, blue, and green eggs, thing in itself somewhat suspicious.
with which they make rosaries for mantelpiece  Those who obstinately regarded him as a
ornaments.  As the cliffs are peaked, they cambion, or son of the. devil, were evidently in
sometimes slip and are killed.  Nothing is error. They ought to have known that camprettier than shutters decorated with sea-birds' bions scarce exist out of Germany. But ]ie
eggs. Gilliatt's mischievous ingenuity had no Valle and St. Sampson were, fifty years ago,
end. He would climb, at the peril of his own places remarkable for the ignorance of their inlife, into the steep places of the sea rocks, and habitants.
hang up bundles of hay, old hats, and all kinds  To fancy that a resident of the island of
of scarecrows, to deter the birds from building Guernsey could be the son of a devil was evithere, and, as a consequence, to prevent the dently absurd.
children from visiting those spots.         Gilliatt, for the very reason that he caused
These are some of the reasons why Gilliatt disquietude among the people, was sought for
was disliked throughout the country. Perhaps and consulted. The peasants came in fear, to
nothing less could have been expected.    talk to him of their diseases. That fear itself
had in it something of faith in his powers; for
in the country, the more the doctor is suspected
V.                     of magic, the more certain is the cure. Gilliatt
had certain remedies of his own, which he had
MORE SUSPICIOUS FACTS ABOUT GILLIATT.   inherited from the deceased woman. He comPUBLIC opinion was not yet quite settled municated them to all who had need of them,
with regard to Gilliatt.                  and would never receive money for them. He
In general he was regarded as a Mlarcou: cured whitlows with applications of herbs. A
some went so far as to believe him to be a liquor in one of his phials allayed fever. The
Canmbion. A cambion is the child of a woman chemist of St. Sampson, or pharmacien, as they
begotten by a devil.                      would call him in France, thought that this was
When a woman bears to her husband seven probably a decoction of Jesuits' bark. The
male children consecutively, the seventh is a more generous among his censors admitted that
marcou. But the series must not be broken by Gilliatt was not so bad a demon in his dealings
the birth of any female child.            with the sick, so far as regarded his ordinary
The marcou has a natural fleur-de-lys im- remedies. But in his character of a Marcou,
printed upon some part of his body; for which he would do nothing. If persons afflicted with
reason he has the power of curing scrofula, ex- scrofula came to him to ask to touch the fleuractly the same as the King of France. Mar- de-lys on his skin, he made no other answer
cous are found in all parts of France, but par- than that of shutting the door in their faces.
ticularly in the Orleanais. Every village of He persistently refused to perform any miracles
Gatinais has its Marcou. It is sufficient for -a ridiculous position for a sorcerer. No one
the cure of the sick that the Marcou should is bound to be a sorcerer; but when a man is
breathe upon their wounds, or let them touch one, he ought not to shirk the duties of his pohis fleur-de-lys. The night of Good Friday is sition.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                13
One or two exceptions might be found to this  Ugly he was not. He might, perhaps, have
almost universal antipathy. Good master Lan- been called handsome. There was something
doy, of the Clos-Landes, was parish clerk and in his profile of rude but antique grace. In reregistrar of St. Pierre Port, custodian of the pose it had some resemblance to that of a sculpdocuments, and keeper of the register of births, tured Dacian on the Trajan column. His ears
marriages, and deaths. This Landoys was -vain were small, delicate, without lobes, and of an
of his descent from Pierre Landoys, treasurer admirable form for hearing. Between his eyes
of the province of Brittany, who was hanged in he had that proud vertical hue, which indicates,
1485. One day, when good master Landoys in a man, boldness and perseverance. The corwas bathing in the sea, he ventured to swim out ners of his mouth were depressed, giving a slight
too far, and was on the point of drowning: Gil- expression of bitterness. His forehead had a
liatt plunged into the water, narrowly escaping calm and noble roundness. The clear pupils
drowning himself, and succeeded in saving Lan- of his eyes possessed a steadfast look, although
doys. From that day Landoys never spoke an troubled a little with that involuntary moveevil word of Gilliatt. To those who expressed ment of the eyelids which fishermen contract
surprise at this change, he replied," Why should from the glitter of the waves. His laugh was
I detest a man who never did me any harm, and boyish and pleasing. No ivory could be of a
who has rendered me a service?"  The parish finer white than his teeth; but exposure to the
clerk and registrar even came at last to feel a sun had made him swvarthy as a Moor. The
sort of friendship for Gilliatt. This public func- ocean, the tempest, and the darkness cannot be
tionary was a man without prejudices. He had braved with impunity. At thirty, he looked, alno faith in sorcerers. He laughed at people ready, like a man of forty-five.  He wore the
who went in fear of ghostly visitors. For him- sombre mask of the wind and the sea.
self, he had a boat in which he amused himself  The people had nicknamed him Gilliatt, the
by making fishing excursions in his leisure evil one.
hours; but he had never seen anything extra-  There is an Indian fable to the effect that one
ordinary, unless it was on one occasion-a wom- day the god Brahma inquired of the Spirit of
an clothed in white, who rose about the waters Power, "Who is stronger than thee?" and the
in the light of the moon-and even of this cir- spirit replied, "Cunning." A Chinese proverb
cumstance he was not quite sure. Montoune says, " What could not the lion do, if he was the
Gahy, the old sorceress of Torteval, had given monkey also?"  Gilliatt was neither the lion
him a little bag to be worn under the cravat, as nor the monkey; but his actions gave some evia protection against evil spirits: he ridiculed dence of the truth of the Chinese proverb and
the bag, and knew not what it contained, though, of the Hindoo fable. Although only of ordinary
to be sure, he carried it about him, feeling more height and strength, he was enabled, so inventsecurity with this charm hanging on his neck.  ive and powerful was his dexterity, to lift burSome courageous persons, emboldened by the dens that might have taxed a giant, and to acexample of Landoys, ventured to cite, in Gil- complish feats which would have done credit to
liatt's favour, certain extenuating circumstan- an athlete.
ces; a few signs of good qualities, as his sobri-  He had in him something of the power of the
ety, his abstinence from spirits and tobacco; gymnast. He used, with equal address, his left
and sometimes they went so far as to pass this hand and his right.
elegant eulogium  upon him: "IHe neither     He never carried a gun, but was often seen
smokes, drinks, chews pigtail, or takes snuff."  with his net. He spared the birds, but not the
Sobriety, however, can only count as a virtue fish. His knowledge and skill as a fisherman
when there are other virtues to support it.  were, indeed, very considerable. He was an
The ban of public opinion lay heavily upon excellent swimmer.
Gilliatt.                                    Solitude either develops the mental powers,
In any case, as a Marcou, Gilliatt had it in or renders men dull and vicious. Gilliatt somehis power to render great services. On a cer- times presented himself under both these astain Good Friday, at midnight, a day and an pects. At times, when his features wore that
hour propitious to this kind of cure, all the air of strange surprise already mentioned, he
scrofulous people of the island, either by sud- might have been taken for a man of mental
den inspiration, or by concerted action, present- powers scarcely superior to the lower animals.
ed themselves in a crowd at the Bu de la Rue, At other moments, an indescribable air ofpeneand with pitiable sores and imploring gestures, tration lighted up his face. Ancient Chaldea
called on Gilliatt to make them clean. But he possessed some men of this stamp. At certain
refused; and herein the people found another times the dulness of the shepherd mind became
proof of his malevolence.                 transparent, and revealed the inspired sage.
After all, he was but a poor man; uninstruct- *^~~ o         ed, save to the extent of reading and writing.
VI.                     It was probable that the condition of his mind
was at that limit which separates the dreamer
THE DUTCH SLOOP.              from the thinker. The thinker wills, the dreamSuCH was the character of Gilliatt.     er is a passive instrument. Solitude sinks deepThe young women considered him ugly.    ly into pure natures, and modifies them, in a




'14                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
certain degree. They become, unconsciously, ficult by a heavy ballasting of stones. The
penetrated with a kind of sacred awe. The conditions were to go empty, but to return loadshadow, in which the mind of Gilliatt constant- ed. The sloop was the prize of the contest.
ly dwelt, was composed in almost equal degrees It was dedicated beforehand to the winner.
of two elements, both obscure, but very differ- This "Dutch Belly" had been employed as a
ent. Within himself all was ignorance and pilot-boat. The pilot who had rigged and woikweakness; without, infirmity and mysterious ed it for twenty years was the most robust of all
power.                                     the sailors of the Channel. When he died, no
By dint of frequent climbing on the rocks, one had been found capable of managing the
of escalading the rugged cliffs, of going to and sloop; and it was in consequence determined
fro among the islands in all weathers, of navi- to make it the prize of the regatta. The sloop,
gatiug any sort of craft which came to hand, though not decked, had some sea qualities, and
of venturing night and day in difficult channels, was a tempting prize for a skilful sailor. Her
he had become, without taking count of his mast was somewhat forward, which increased
other advantages, and merely in following his the motive power of her sails, besides having
fancy and pleasure, a seaman of extraordinary the advantage of not being in the way of her
skill.                                    pilot. It was a strong-built vessel, heavy, but
He was a born pilot. The true pilot is the roomy, and taking the open sea well; in fact,
man who navigates the bed of the ocean even a good, serviceable craft. There was eager
more than its surface. The waves of the sea anxiety for the prize; the task was a rough
are an external problem, continually modified one, but the reward of success was worth having.
by the submarine conditions of the waters in Seven or eight fishermen among the most vigwhich. the vessel is making her way. To see orous of the island presented themselves.  One
Gilliatt guiding his craft among the reefs and by one they essayed, but not one could succeed
shallows of the Norman Archipelago, one might in reaching Herm. The last one who tried his
have fancied that he carried in his head a plan skill was known for having crossed, in a rowing
of the bottom of the sea. He was familiar with boat, the terrible narrow sea between Sark and
it all, and feared nothing.               Brecq-Hou.   Sweating with his exertions, he
He was better acquainted with the buoys in brought back the sloop, and said "It is imposthe channels than the cormorants who make sible."  Gilliatt then entered the bark, seized
them their resting-places. The almost imper- first of all the oar, then the mainsail, and pushed
ceptible differences which distinguish the four out to sea. Then, without either making fast
upright buoys of the Creux, Alligande, the Tr- the boom, which would have been imprudent, or
mies, and the Sardrette, were perfectly visible letting it go, which kept the sail under his di-'
and clear to him, even in misty weather. He rection, and leaving the boom to move with the
hesitated neither at the oval, apple-headed buoy wind without tacking, he held the tiller with his
of Anfre, nor at the triple iron point of the left hand. In three quarters of an hour he was
Rousse, nor at the white ball of the Corbette, nor at Herm. Three hours later, although a strong
at the black ball of Longue Pierre; and there breeze had sprung up and was blowing across
was no fear of his confounding the cross of the roads, the sloop, guided by Gilliatt, returnGoubeau with the sword planted in earth at ed to St. Sampson with its load of stones. He
La Platte, nor the hammer-shaped buoy of the had, with an extravagant display of his reBarbees with the curled-tail buoy of the feoulinet. sources, even added to the cargo the little
His rare skill in seamanship showed itself in bronze cannon at Herm, which the people were
a striking manner one day at Guernsey, on the in the habit of firing off on the 5th of November,
occasion of one of those sea tournaments which byway of rejoicing over the death of Guy Fawkes.
are called regattas. The feat to be performed  Guy Fawkes, by the way, has been dead one
was to navigate alone a boat with four sails hundred and sixty years; a remarkably long
from St. Sampson to the Isle of Herm, at one period of rejoicing.
league distance, and to bring the boat back  Gilliatt, thus burdened and encumbered, alfrom Herm to St. Sampson. To manage, with- though he had the Guy Fawkes'-day cannon in
out assistance, a boat with four sails, is a feat the boat and the south wind in his sails, steered,
which every fisherman is equal to, and the diffi- or rather brought back, the pot-bellied craft to
culty seemed little; but there was a condition St. Sampson.
which rendered it far from simple. The boat,  Seeing which, Mess Lethierry exclaimed,
to begin with, was one of those large and heavy " There's a brave sailor for you!"
sloops of bygone times which the sailors of the  And he held out his hand to Gilliatt.
last century knew by the name of " Dutch Bel-  We shall have occasion to speak again of
lies."  This ancient style of flat, pot-bellied Mess Lethierry.
craft, carrying on the larboard and starboard  The sloop was awarded to Gilliatt.
sides, in compensation for the want of a keel,  This adventure detracted nothing from his
two wings which lower themselves, sometimes evil reputation.
the one, sometimes the other, according to the  Several persons declared that the feat was
wind, may occasionally be met with still at sea. not at all astonishing, for that Gilliatt had conIn the second place, there was the return from  cealed in the boat a branch of wild medlar. But
Herm, a journey which was rendered more dif- this could not be proved.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                15
From that day forward, Gilliatt navigated no again upon the mysteries within. Such visions
boat except the old sloop. In this heavy craft have occasionally the power to effect a transfighe went on his fishing avocation. He kept it uration in those whom they visit. They conat anchor in the excellent little shelter which vert a poor camel-driver into a Mohammed; a
he had all to himself, under the very wall of his peasant girl tending her goats into a Joan of
house of the Bu de la Rue. At nightfall, he Arc. Solitude generates a certain amount of
cast his nets over his shoulder, traversed his lit- sublime exaltation. It is like the smoke arising
tie garden, climbed over the parapet of dry from the burning bush. A mysterious lucidity
stones, stepped lightly from rock to rock, and, of mind results, which converts the student into
jumping into the sloop, pushed out to sea.  a seer, and the poet into a prophet: herein we.He brought home heavy takes of fish; but find a key to the mysteries of the Sinai, Kedron,
people state that his medlar branch was always Ombos; to the intoxication of the Castilian camhanging up in the boat. No one had ever seen els, the revelations of the month Busio. Hence,
this branch, but every one believed in its exist- too, we have Peleia at Dodona, the sibyls at
ence.                                     Delphos, Trophonius in Bceotia, of Ezekiel on
When he had more fish than he wanted, he the Kebar, and Jeremiah in the Thebaid.
did not sell it, but gave it away.           More frequently this visionary state overThe poor people took his gift, but were little whelms and stupefies its victim. There is such
grateful, for they knew the secret of his medlar a thing as divine besottedness. The Iindoo
branch. Such devices cannot be permitted. fakir bears about with him the burden of his
It is unlawful to trick the sea out of its treas- vision, as the Cretin his goitre. Luther holdures.                                     ing converse with devils in his garret at Witten.
He was a fisherman; but he was something berg; Pascal shutting out the view of the infermore. He had, by instinct or for amusement, nal regions with the screen of his cabinet; the
acquired a knowledge of three or four trades. African Obi conversing with the white-faced
He was a cabinet-maker, worker in iron, wheel- god Bossum-on each and all the same phewright, boat-caulker, and, to some extent, an nomenon, diversely interpreted by the minds in
engineer. No one could mend a broken wheel which they manifest themselves, according to
better than he could. He manufactured, in a their capacity and power. Luther and Pascal
fashion of his own, all the wheels which fisher- were grand, and are grand still; the Obi is simmen use. In a little corner of the Bf de la Rue ply a poor, half-witted creature.
he had a small forge and an anvil; and the   Gilliatt was neither so exalted nor so low.
sloop having but one anchor, he had succeeded, He was a dreamer: nothing more.
without help, in making another.  The anchor  Nature presented itself to him under a somewas excellent. The ring had the necessary what strange aspect.
strength; and Gilliatt, though entirely unin-  Just as he had often found in the perfectly
structed in this branch of the smith's art, had limpid water of the sea strange creatures of confound the exact dimensions of the stock for pre- siderable size and of various shapes, of the meventing the over-balancing of the fluke ends.  dusa genus, which out of the water bore a reHe had patiently replaced all the nails in the semblance to soft crystal, and which, cast again
planks by rivets, which rendered rust in the holes into the sea, became lost to sight in that mediimpossible.                               um by reason of their identity in transparency
In this way he had much improved the sea- and colour, so he imagined that other transpagoing qualities of the sloop. He employed it rencies, similar to these almost invisible denisometimes when he took a fancy to spend a zens of the ocean, might probably inhabit the air
month or two in some solitary islet, like Chou- around us. The birds are scarcely inhabitants
sey or Les Casquets., People said "Aye! aye! of the air, but rather amphibious creatures,
Gilliatt is away:" but this was a circumstance passing much of their lives upon the earth.
which nobody regretted.                   Gilliatt could not believe the air a mere desert.
He used to say, "Since the water is filled witll
---— 0 —---              life, why not the atmosphere?" Creatures colourless and transparent like the air would esVII.                    cape from our observation. What proof have
A  IT TENANT FO  A  ANTED HOUSE we that there are no such creatures? Analogy
would indicate that the liquid fields of air must
GILLIATT was a man of dreams, hence his have their swimming habitants, even as the wadaring, hence also his timidity. He had ideas ters of the deep. These aerial fish would of
on many things which w3re peculiarly his own. course be diaphanous; a provision of their wise
There was in his character, perhaps, some- Creator for our sakes as well as their own. Althing of the visionary and the trancendentalist. lowing the light to pass through their forms,
Hallucinations may haunt the poor peasant like casting no shadow, having no defined outline,
Martin, no less than the king like Henry IV. they would necessarily remain unknown to us,
There are times when the unknown reveals it- and beyond the grasp of human sense. Gilliself in a mysterious way to the spirit of man. att indulged the wild fancy that if it were posA sudden rent in the veil of darkness will make sible to exhaust the earth of its atmosphere, or
manifest things hitherto unseen, and then close that if we could fish the air as we fish the depths




16   -THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
of the sea, we should discover the existence of a house in which Gilliatt lived, or for his garden,
multitude of strange animals.  And then, he or the creek in which he sheltered the Dutch
would add in his reverie, many things would be sloop. The Bu de la Rue no longer exists.
made clear.                                 Even the little peninsula on which his house
Reverie, which is thought in its nebulous stood has vanished, levelled by the pickaxe of
state, borders closely upon the land of sleep, by the quarryman, and carried away cart-load by
which it is bounded as by a natural frontier. cart-load, by dealers in rock and granite.  It
The discovery of a new world, in the form of must be sought now in the churches, the palan atmosphere filled with transparent creatures, aces, and the quays of a great city. All that
would be the beginning of a knowledge of the ridge of rocks has been long ago conveyed to
vast unknown. But beyond opens out the il- London.
limitable domain of the possible, teeming with  These long lines of broken cliffs in the sea,
yet other beings, and characterized by other with their frequent gaps and crevices, are like
phenomena.   All this would be nothing super- miniature chains of mountains.  They strike
natural, but merely the occult continuation of the eye with the impression which a giant may
the infinite variety of creation.  In the midst be supposed to have in contemplating the Corof that laborious idleness, which was the chief dilleras. In the language of the country they
feature in his existence, Gilliatt was singularly are called "Banques."  These banques vary
observant. He even carried his observations considerably in form.  Some resemble a long
into the domain of sleep. Sleep has a close re- spine, of which each rock forms one of the verlation with the possible, or, as Frenchmen say, tebrs; others are like the back-bone of a fish;
the invraisemblable.  The world of sleep has an while some bear an odd resemblance to a crocoexistence of its own. Night-time, regarded as dile in the act of drinking.
a separate sphere of creation, is a universe in it-  At the extremity of the ridge on which the
self. The material nature of man, upon which Bu de la Rue was situate was a large rock,
philosophers tell us that a column of air forty- which the fishing people of Houmet called the
five miles in height continually presses, is wea- "Beast's Horn." This rock, a sort of pyramid,
ried out at night, sinks into lassitude, lies down, resembled, though less in height, the "Pinand finds repose. The eyes of the flesh are nacle" of Jersey. At high water the sea diclosed; but in that drooping head, less inactive vided it from the ridge, and the Horn stood
than is supposed, other eyes are opened. The alone; at low water it was approached by an
unknown reveals itself.  The shadowy exist- isthmus of rocks. The remarkable feature of
ences of the invisible world become more akin this "Beast's Horn" was a sort of natural seat
to man; whether it be that there is a real com- on the side next the sea, hollowed out by the
munication, or whether things far off in the water and polished by the rains.  This seat,
unfathomable abyss are mysteriously brought however, was a treacherous'one. The stranger
nearer, it seems as if the impalpable creatures was insensibly attracted to it by "the beauty
inhabiting space come then to contemplate our of the prospect," as the Guernsey folks said.
natures, curious to comprehend the denizens of Something detained him there in spite of himthe earth.  Some phantom creation ascends or self, for there is a charm in a wide view. The
descends to walk beside us in the dim twilight; seat seemed to offer itself for his convenience;
some existence altogether different from  our it formed a sort of niche in the peaked faade
own, composed partly of human consciousness, of the rock. To climb up to it was easy, for the
partly of something else, quits his fellows and sea, which had fashioned it out of its rocky
returns again, after presenting himself for a mo- base, had also cast beneath it, at convenient
ment to our inward sight; and the sleeper, not distances, a kind of natural stairs composed of
wholly slumbering, nor yet entirely conscious, fiat stones. The perilous abyss is full of these
beholds around him strong manifestations of snares; beware, therefore, of its proffered aids.
life-pale spectres, terrible or smiling, dismal The spot was tempting. the stranger mounted
phantoms, uncouth masks, unknown faces, hy- and sat down. There he found himself at his
dra-headed monsters, undefined shapes, reflec- ease; for his seat he had the granite rounded
tions ofmoonlightwhere there is no moon, vague and hollowed out by the foam; for supports,
fragments of monstrous forms. All these things two rocky elbows which seemed made expresswhich come and go in the troubled atmosphere ly; against his back the high vertical wall of
of sleep, and to which men give the name of rock which he looked up to and admired, withdreams, are, in truth, only realities invisible to out thinking of the impossibility of scaling it.
those who walk about the daylight world.    Nothing could be more simple than to fall into
So, at least, thought Gilliatt.          reverie in that convenient resting-place.  All
around spread the wide sea, far off the ships
were seen passing to and fro. It was possible
to follow a sail with the eye till it sank in the
VIII.                    horizon beyond the Casquets.  The stranger
-THE GILD-HOLM-'UJR SEAT.          was entranced: he looked around, enjoying the
beauty of the scene, and the light touch of wind
THE anxious visitor, in these days, would and wave. There is a sort of bat found at Cayseek in vain in the little bay of Houmet for the enne, which has the power of fanning people to




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               17
sleep in the shade with a gentle beating of its "Gild-Holm-'Ur" seat, or Kidormur; a Celtic
dusky wings. Like this strange creature the word, say some authorities, which those who
wind wanders about, alternately destroying or understand Celtic cannot interpret, and which
lulling into security.  So the stranger would all who understand French can  " Qui-dortcontinue contemplating the sea, listening for a?meurt:"* such is the country folks' translation.
movement in the air, and yielding himself up to  The reader may choose between the transdreamy indolence. When the eyes are satiated lation Qui-dort-meuwrt, and that given in 1819, I
with light and beauty, it is a luxury to close believe in The Armorican, by M. Athenoz. Acthem for awhile. Suddenly the stranger would cording to this learned Celtic scholar, Gildarouse; but it was too late. The sea had crept Holm-'Ur signifies'The resting-place of birds."
up step by step; the waters surrounded the  There is, at Aurigny, another seat of this
rock; the stranger had been lured on to his kind, called the Monk's Chair, so well sculpdeath.                                    tured by the waves, and with steps of rock so
A terrible rock was this in a rising sea.  conveniently placed, that it might be said that
The tide gathers at first insensibly, then with the sea politely sets a footstool for those who
violence; when it touches the rocks a sudden rest there.
wrath seems to possess it, and it foams. Swim-  In the open sea, at high water, the Gildming is difficult in the breakers: excellent Holm-'Ur was no longer visible; the water covswimmers have been lost at the Horn of the J3  ered it entirely.
de la Rue.                                   The Gild-Holm-'Ur was a neighbour of the
In certain places, and at certain periods, the Bzi de la Rue. Gilliatt knew it well, and often
aspect of the sea is dangerous-fatal; as at seated himself there.  Was it his meditating
times is the glance of a woman.           place? No. We have already said he did not
Very old inhabitants of Guernsey used to call meditate, but dream. The sea, however, never
this niche, fashioned in the rock by the waves, surprised him there.
BOOK II.
MESS. LETHIERRY.
I.                     he would return home, and pass his time in
knitting stockings.
A TIOUBLED LIFE, BUT A QUIET CONSCIENCE. knitting stockings'.
A'OU~BLED LrE', BUT A QUIET CO~NSCIE~NCE.  For fifty years he led this kind of life-from
MESS LETHIERRY, a' conspicuous man in ten years of age to sixty-so long did he feel
Saint Sampson, was a redoubtable sailor. He himself still young. At sixty he began to dishad voyaged a great deal. He had been a cab- cover that he could lift no longer with one hand
in- boy, seaman, topmast-man, second mate, the great anvil at the forge at Varclin. This
mate, pilot, and captain. He was at this peri- anvil weighed three hundred weight. At length
od a privateer. There was not a man to com- rheumatic pains compelled him to be a prisonpare with him for general knowledge of the sea. er; he was forced to give up his old struggle
He was brave in putting off to ships in distress. with the sea, to pass from the heroic into the
In foul weather he would take his way along patriarchal stage, to sink into the condition of
the beach, scanning the horizon.  "What have a harmless, worthy old fellow.
we yonder?" he would say; "some craft in     Happily his rheumatism attacks happened at
trouble?"  Whether it were an interloping the period when he had secured a comfortable
Weymouth fisherman, a cutter from Aurigny, competency.  These two consequences of laa bisquiore from Courseulle, the yacht of some bour are rational companions. At the moment
nobleman, an English craft or a French one-  when men become rich, how often comes paralypoor or rich, mattered little. He jumped into sis-the sorrowful crowning of a laborious life.
a boat, called together two or three strong fel-  Old and weary men say among themselves,
lows, or did without them, as the case might "Let us rest and enjoy life."
be; pushed out to sea, rose and sank, and rose  The population of islands like Guernsey is
again on rolling waves, plunged into the storm, composed of men who have passed their lives
and encountered the danger face to face. Then in going about their little fields, or in sailing
far off, amid the storm  and lightning, and round the world. These are the two classes of
drenched with water, he was sometimes seen the labouring people-those who labour on the
upright in his boat like a lion with a foaming land, and those who toil upon the sea. Mess
mane.. Often he would pass whole days in dan- Lethierry was of the latter class; he had had a
ger amidst the waves, the hail, and the wind, life of hard work. He had been upon the Conmaking his way to the sides of foundering ves- tinent, was for some years a ship-carpenter at
sels during the tempest, and rescuing men and Rochefort, and afterwards at Cette. We have
merchandise.  At night, after feats like these,        He who sleeps must die.
B




18                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
just spoken of sailing round the world: he had being a stickler for hands like those of a duchmade the circuit of all France, getting work as ess. Such hands are indeed somewhat rare
a journeyman carpenter; he had been employ- among the fishermen's daughters at Portbail.
id at the great salt-works of Franche-Comte.  It was whispered, however, that at RocheThough an humble man, he had led a life of fort, on the Charente, he had, once upon a time,
adventure. In France he had learned to read, made the acquaintance of a certain grisette reto think, to have a will of his own. He had alizing his ideal.  She was a pretty girl, with
had a hand in many things, and in all he had graceful hands, but she was a sailor, and had
done had kept a character for probity. At bot- also a habit of scratching. Woe betide any
tom, however, he was simply a sailor. The one who attacked her; her nails, though capawater was his element; he used to say that he ble at a pinch of being turned into claws, were
lived with the fish when really at home. In of a whiteness which left nothing to be desired.
short, his whole existence, except two or three It was these peculiarly bewitching nails which
years, had been devoted to the ocean. Flung had first enchanted and then disturbed the
into the water, as he said, he had navigated the peace of Lethierry, who, fearing that he might
great oceans both of the Atlantic and the Pa- one day become no longer master of his miscific, but he preferred the Channel. He used tress, had decided not to conduct that young
to exclaim enthusiastically, " That is the sea for lady to the nuptial altar.
a rough time of it!" He was born at sea, and  Another time he met at Aurigny a country
at sea would have preferred to end his days. girl who pleased him. He thought of marriage,
After sailing several times round the world, when one of the inhabitants of the place said to
and seeing most countries, he had returned to him, "I congratulate you; you will have for
Guernsey, and never permanently left the isl- your wife a good fuel-maker." Lethierry asked
and again. Henceforth his great voyages were the meaning of this.  It appeared that the
to Granville and St.Malo.                 country people at Aurigny have a certain cusMess Lethierry was a Guernsey man-that tom of collecting manure from their cow-houses,
peculiar amalgamation of Frenchman and Nor- which they throw against a wall, where it'is left
man, or rather English. He had within him- to dry and fall to the ground. Cakes of dried
self this quadruple extraction, merged and al- manure of this kind are used for fuel, and are
most lost in that far wider country, the ocean. called coipiaux. A country girl of Aurigny
Throughout his life, and wheresoever he went, has no chance of getting a husband if she is not
he had preserved the habits of a Norman fish- a good fuel-maker; but the young lady's speerman.                                    cial talent only inspired disgust in Lethierry.
All this, however, did not prevent his look-  Besides, he had in his love matters a kind of
ing now and then into some old book; of taking rough country folks' philosophy, a sailorlike
pleasure in reading, in knowing the names of sort of habit of mind. Always smitten but
philosophers and poets, and in talking a little never enslaved, he boasted of having been in
now and then in all languages.            his youth easily conquered by a petticoat, or
rather a "cotillon;" for what is now-a-days. —-*~c~~-called a crinoline, was in his time called a co-,
tillon; a term, which in his use of it signifies
II.                    both something more and something less than a
A CERTAIN PREDILECTION.          woman.
These rude seafaring men of the Norman
GILLIATT had in his nature something of the archipelago have a certain amount of shrewduncivilized man; Mess Lethierry had the same. ness. Almost all can read and write.  On
Lethierry's uncultivated nature, however, was Sundays little cabin-boys may be seen in those
not without certain refinements.          parts, seated upon a coil of ropes, reading, with
He was fastidious upon the subject of wom- book in hand. From all time these Norman
en's hands. In his early years, while still a sailors have had a peculiar satirical vein, and
lad, passing from the stage of cabin-boy to that have been famous for clever sayings. It was
of sailor, he had heard the Admiral de Suffren one of these men, the bold pilot Queripel, who
say, " There goes a pretty girl; but what horri- said to Montgomery, when he sought reftige in
ble great red hands."  An observation from an Jersey after the unfortunate accident in killing
admiral on any subject is a command, a law, Henry II. at a tournament with a blow of his
an authority far above that of an oracle. The lance, " Tete folle a casse tete vide." Another
exclamation of Admiral de Suffren had render- one, Touzeau, a sea-captain at Saint Brelade,
ed Lethierry fastidious and exacting in the mat- was the author of that philosophical pun, erroter of small and white hands. His own hand, neously attributed to Camus, "Afires la mort,
a large club fist of the colour of mahogany, was les papes deviennent papillons, et lest sires devienlike a mallet or a pair of pincers for a friendly nent cirons."
grasp, and, tightly closed, would almost break  The mariners of the Channel, who are the
a paving-stone.                          true ancient Gauls-the islands, which in these
He had never married; he had either no in  days become rapidly more and more Englishelination for matrimony, or had never found a preserved for many ages their old French charsuitable match. That, perhaps, was due to his acter. The peasant in Sark speaks the lan



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               19
guage of Louis XIV. Forty years ago, the old much the worse for the sea if it thwarted him.
classical nautical language was to be found in It might try, if it would, but Mess Lethierry
the mouths of the sailors of Jersey and Aurigny. would not give in. A refractory wave could no
When amongst them, it was possible to imagine more stop him than an angry neighbour. What
oneself carried back to the sea life of the seven- he had said was said; what he planned out was
teenth century. From that speaking-trumpet done. He bent neither before an objection nor
which terrified Admiral Hid'de, a philologist before the tempest. The word "no" had no
might have learnt the ancient technicalities of existence for him, whether it was in the mouth
manceuvring and giving orders at sea, in the of a man or in the angry muttering of a thunder
very words which were roared out to his sailors cloud. In the teeth of all he went on in his
by Jean Bart. The old French maritime vo- way. He would take no refusals. Hence his obcabulary is now almost entirely changed, but stinacy in life, and his intrepidity on the ocean.
was still in use in Jersey in 1820.         He seasoned his simple meal of fish soup for
It was with this uncouth sea dialect in his himself, knowing the quantities of pepper, salt,
mouth that Duquesne beat De Ruyter, that and herbs which it required, and was as well
Dugnay Trouin defeated Wasnaer, and that pleased with the cooking as with the meal, To
Tourville, in 1681, poured a broadside into the complete the sketch of Lethierry's peculiarities,
first galley which bombarded Algiers. It is the reader must conjure a being to whom the
now a dead language. The idiom of the sea putting on a surtout would amount to a transis altogether different. Duperre would not be figuration; whom a landsman's great-coat would
able to understand Suffren.               convert into a strange animal; one who, standThe language of French naval signals is not ing with his locks blown about by the wind,
less transformed; there is a long distance be- might have represented old Jean Bart, but who,
tween the four pennants, red, white, yellow, and in the landsman's round hat, would have looked
blue, of Labourdonnage, and the eighteen flags an idiot; awkward in cities, wild and redoubtaof these days, which, hoisted two and two, three ble at sea; a man with broad shoulders, fit for
and three, or four and four, furnish, for distant a porter; one who indulged in no oaths, was
communication, sixty-six thousand combina- rarely in anger, whose voice had a soft accent,
tions, are never deficient, and, so to speak, pro- which became like thunder in a speaking-trumvide for unforeseen emergencies.          pet; a peasant who had read something of the
philosophy of Diderot and D'Alembert; a Guernsey man who had seen the Great Revolution; a
learned ignoramus, free from bigotry, but inIII.                    dulging in visions, with more faith in the White
ME SS LETIHIEIRRY'S VULNERABLE PART.   Lady than in the Holy Virgin; possessing the
strength of Polyphemus, the perseverance of
ME:ss LETHIERRY carried his heart upon his Columbus, with a little of the bull in his nature,
sleeve-a large sleeve and a large heart.  His and a little of the child. Add to these phyi'cal
failing was that admirable one, self-confidence. and mental peculiarities a somewhat flatt hose,
He had a certain fashion of his own of under- large cheeks, a set of teeth still perfect, a face
taking to do a thing. It was a solemn fashion. filled with wrinkles, and which seemed to have
He said, "I give my word of honour to do it, been buffeted by the waves and subjected to
with God's help."  That said, he went through the beating of the winds of forty years, a brow
with his duty. He put his trust in Providence, in which the storm and tempest were plainly
nothing more.  The little that he went to written —an incarnation of a rock in the open
church was merely formal. At sea, he was su- sea-maybe, with this, too, a good-tempered
perstitious.                              smile always ready to light up his weatherbeatNevertheless, the storm had never yet arisen en countenance, and you have before you Mess
which could daunt him. One reason of this Lethierry.
was his impatience of opposition. He could  Mess Lethierry had two special objects of aftolerate it neither from the ocean nor from any- fection only. Their names were Durande and
thing else. He meant to have his way; so Deruchette.




20                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
BOOK III.
DURANDE AND DERUCHETTE.
I.                     benefit upon us, even by the simple fact of being beautiful?  Here and there we meet with
one who possesses that fairy-like power of enTHE human body might well be regarded as chanting all about her; sometimes she is ignoa mere simulacrum; but it envelops our real- rant herself of this magical influence, which is,
ity, it cankers our light, and broadens the shad- however, for that reason only the more perfect.
ow in which we live. The soul is the reality Her presence lights up the home; her approach
of our existence. To speak accurately, the hu- is like a cheering warmth: she passes by, and
man visage is a mask. The true man is that we are content; she stays awhile, and we are
which exists under what is called man. If that happy. To behold her is to live: she is the
being, which thus exists sheltered and secreted Aurora with a human face. She has no need
behind that illusion which we call the flesh, to do more than simply to be: she makes an
could be approached, more than one strange Eden of the house; Paradise breathes fiom
revelation would be made. The vulgar error is her; and she communicates this delight to all,
to mistake the outward husk for the living spir- without taking any greater trouble than that of
it. Yonder girl, for example, if we could see existing beside them. Is it not a thing divine
her as she really is, might she not figure as some to have a smile which, none know how, has the
bird of the air?                           power to lighten the weight of that enormous
A bird transmuted into a young maiden, chain which all the living, in common, drag bewhat could be more exquisite?  Picture it in hind them?  Deruchette possessed this smile:
your own home,. and call it Deruchette. De- we may even say that this smile was Deruchette
licious creature! One might be almost tempt- herself. There is one thing which has more
ed to say, " Good-morning, Mademoiselle Gold- resemblance to ourselves even than our face,
finch."  The wings are invisible, but the chirp- and that is our physiognomy: but there is yet
ing may still be heard.  Sometimes, too, she another thing which more resembles us than
pipes a clear, loud song. Ill her childlike prat- this, and that is our smile. DIruchette smiling
tie, the creature is, perhaps, inferior; but in her was simply Deruchette.
song, how superior to humanity. When wom-    There is something peculiarly attractive in
anhood dawns, this angel flies away; but some- the Jersey and Guernsey race. The women,
times returns, bringing back a little one to a particularly the young, are remarkable for a
mother. Meanwhile, she who is one day to be pure and exquisite beauty. Their complexion
a mother is for a long while a child; the girl is a combination of the Saxon fairness with the
becomes a maiden, fresh and joyous as the lark. proverbial ruddiness of the Norman people —
loting her movements, we feel as if it was good rosy cheeks and blue eyes; but the eyes want
of her not to fly away. The dear familiar com- brilliancy. The English training dulls them.
panion moves at her own sweet will about the Their liquid glances will be irresistible whenhouse, flits from branch to branch, or rather ever the secret is found of giving them that
from room to room; goes to and fro; approach- depth which is the glory of the Parisienne.
es and retires; plumes her wings, or rather Happily Englishwomen are not yet quite transcombs her hair, and makes all kinds of gentle formed into the Parisian type. Deruchette was
noises-murmurings of unspeakable delight to not a Parisian; yet she was certainly not a
certain ears.  She asks a question, and is an- Guernesiaise.  Lethierry had brought her up
swered; is asked something in return, and chirps to b3 neat, and delicate, and pretty; and so she
a reply. It is delightful to chat with her when was.
tired of serious talk; for this creature carries  Deruchette had, at times, an air of bewitchwith her something of her skyey element. She ing languor, and a certain mischief in the eye
is, as it were, a thread of gold interwoven with which were altogether involuntary. She scarceyour sombre thoughts; you feel almost grateful ly knew, perhaps, the meaning of the word love,
to her for her kindness in not making herself and yet not unwillingly ensnared those about
invisible, when it would be so easy for her to be her in the toils. But all this in her was innoeven unpalpable; for the beautiful is a neces- cent. She had never thought of marrying.
sary of life.. There is, in this world, no func-  Deruchette had the prettiest little hands in
tion more important than that of charming. the world, and little feet to match them. SweetThe forest-glade would be incomplete without ness and goodness reigned throughout her perthe humming-bird.  To shed joy around, to son; her family and fortune were her uncle
radiate happiness, to cast light upon dark days, Mess Lethierry; her occupation was only to
to be the golden thread of our destiny, and the live her daily life; her accomplishments were
very spirit of grace and harmony, is not this to the knowledge of a few songs; her intellectual
render a service?  Does not beauty confer a gifts were summed up in her simple innocence;




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                21
she had the graceful repose of the West Indian semble leviathan? Was it not an attempt to
woman, mingled at times with giddiness and bring chaos again into the universe? This is
vivacity, with the teasing playfulness of a child, not the only occasion on which the progress of
yet with a dash of melancholy. Her dress was civilization has been stigmatized as a return to
somewhat rustic, and like that peculiar to her chaos.
country-elegant, though not in accordance    "A mad notion, a gross delusion, an absurdiwith the fashions of great cities; for she wore ty!"  Such was the verdict of the Academy of
flowers in her bonnet all the year round. Add Sciences when consulted by Napoleon, on the
to all this an open brow, a neck supple and subject of steam-boats, early in the present cengraceful, chestnut hair, a fair skin slightly freck- tury. The poor fishermen of St. Sampson may
led with exposure to the sun, a mouth some- be excused for not being, in scientific matters,
what large, but well-defined, and visited from  any wiser than the mathematicians of Paris;
time to time by a dangerous smile. Such was and in religious matters, a little island like
Deruchette.                               Guernsey is not bound to be more enlightened
Sometimes, in the evening, a little after sun- than a great continent like America. In the
set, at the moment when the dusk of the sky year 1807, when the first steam-boat of Fulton,
mingles with the dusk of the sea, and twilight commanded by Livingston, furnished with one
invests the waves with a mysterious awe, the of Watt's engines, sent from England, and mapeople beheld, entering the harbour of St. Samp- nceuvred, besides her ordinary crew, by two
son, upon the dark rolling waters, a strange, un- Frenchmen only, Andre Michaux and another,
defined thing, a monstrous form which puffed made her first voyage from New York to Aland blew; a horrid machine which roared like bany, it happened that she set sail on the 17th
a wild beast, and smoked like a volcano; a spe- of August. The Methodists took up this imcies of Hydra foaming among the breakers, and portant fact, and in numberless chapels, preachleaving behind it a dense cloud, as it rushed on ers were heard calling down a malediction on
towards the town with a frightful beating of its the machine, and declaring that this number 17
fins, and a throat belching forth flame. This was no other than the total of the ten horns and
was Durande.                              seven heads of the beast in the Apocalypse. In
America, they invoked against the steam-boats
the beast from the book of Revelations; in EuII                     rope, the reptile of the book of Genesis. That
was the simple difference.
THE OLD STORY OF UTOPIA.             The savants had rejected steam-boats as imA STEAM-BOAT was a prodigious novelty in the possible; the priests had anathematized them
waters of the Channel in 182-. The whole as impious.   Science had condemned, and recoast of Normandy was long strangely excited ligion consigned them to perdition.  Fulton
by it. Now-a-days, ten or a dozen steam ves- was a new incarnation of Lucifer. The simple
sels, crossing and recrossing within the bounds people on the coasts and in the villages were
of the horizon, scarcely attract a glance from  confirmed in their reprobation by the uneasiness
loiterers on the shore. At the most, some per- which they felt at the outlandish sight. The resons, whose interest or business it is to note such ligious view of steam-boats may be summed up
things, will observe the indications in their as follows: Water and fire were divorced at the
smoke, of whether they burn Welsh or New- creation. This divorce was enjoined by God
castle coal. They pass, and that is all. Wel- himself. Man has no right to join what his
come, if coming home; "a pleasant passage," Maker has put asunder; to reunite what he has
if outward bound.                         disunited. The peasants' view was simply, "I
Folks were less calm on the subject of these don't like the look of this thing."
wonderful inventions in the first quarter of the  No one but Mess Lethierrv, perhaps, could
present century; and the new and strange ma- have been found at that early period daring
chines, and their long lines of smoke, were re- enough to dream of such an enterprise as the
garded with no good-will by the Channel Isl- establishment of a steam vessel between Guernanders. In that Puritanical Archipelago, where sey and St. Malo. He alone, as an independent
the Queen of England has been censured for thinker, was capable of conceiving such an idea,
violating the Scriptures* by using chloroform  or, as a hardy mariner, of carrying it out. The
during her accouchements, the first steam ves- French part of his nature, probably, conceived
sel which made its appearance received the the idea; the English part supplied the energy
name of the'. Devil Boat."  In the eyes of to put in execution.
these worthy fishermen, once Catholics, now  How and when this was, we are about to inCalvinists, but always bigots, it seemed to be a form the reader.
portion of the infernal regions which had been
somehow set afloat. A local preacher selected
for his discourse the question of " Whether man
has the right to make fire and water work to-                III.
gether when Godhaddividedthem.'t No. This                  RANTAINE.
beast, composed of iron and fire, did it not re-  ABOUT forty years before the period of the
* Genesis, chap. iii., v. 16.  t Genesis, chap. i., v. 4.  commencement of our narrative, there stood in




22                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
the suburbs of Paris, near the city wall, between file."  He spoke always with a grave deliberathe Fosse-aux-Loups and the Tombe-Issoire, a tion; he called himself the son of a Chevalier
house of doutbtful reputation. It was a lonely, de Saint Louis. His linen was of a miscellaneruinous building, evidently a place for dark deeds ous kind, and marked with different initials.
on an occasion. Here lived with his wife and Nobody was ever more tender than he was on
child a species of town bandit; a man who had the point of honour; he fought and killed his
been clerk to an attorney practising at the Cha- man. The mother of a pretty actress could
telet-he figured somewhat later at the Assize not have an eye more watchful for an insult.
Court; the name of this family was Rantaine.  He might have stood for the personification
On a mahogany chest of drawers in the old of subtlety under an outer garb of enormous
house were two china cups, ornamented with strength.
flowers, on one of which appeared, in gilt letters,  It was the power of his fist, applied one day
the words, "A souvenir of friendship;" on the at a fair upon a Cabeza de noro, which had origother, "A token of esteem."  The child lived inally taken the fancy of Lethierry. No one
in an atmosphere of vice in this miserable home. in Guernsey knew anything of his adventures.
The father and mother having belonged to the They were of a chequered kind. If the great
lower middle class, it had learnt to read, and theatre of destiny had a special wardrobe, Ranthey brought it up in a fashion. The mother, taine ought to have taken the dress of harlepale and almost in rags, gave "instruction," as quin. He had lived, and had seen the world.
she called it, mechanically to the little one, He had run through the gamut of possible trades
heard it spell a few words to her, and interrupt- and qualities; had been a cook at Madagascar,
ed the lesson to accompany her husband on trainer of birds at Honolulu, a religious joursome criminal expedition, or to earn the wages nalist at the Galapagos Islands, a poet at Comof prostitution. Meanwhile, the holy book re- rawuttee, a freeman at Hayti. In this latter
mained open on the table as she had left it, and character he had delivered at Grand Goave a
the boy sat beside it, meditating in its way.  funeral oration, of which the local journals have
The father and mother, detected one day in preserved this fragment:'"Farewell, then, noone of their criminal enterprises, suddenly van- ble spirit. In the azure vault of the heavens,
ished into that obscurity in which the penal where thou wingest now thy flight, thou wilt no
laws envelop convicted malefactors. The child, doubt rejoin the good Abbe Leander Crameau,
too, disappeared.                         of Little Goave. Tell him that, thanks to ten
Lethierry, in his wanderings about the world, years of glorious efforts, thou hast completed
stumbled one day on an adventurer like him- the church of the Anse-a- Veau. Adieu! tranself; helped him out of some scrape; rendered scendent genius, model mason!" His freemahim a kindly service, and was apparently repaid son's mask did not prevent him, as we see, wearwith gratitude. He took a fancy to the stran- ing a little of the Roman Catholic. The forger, picked him up, and brought him to Guern- mer won to his side the men of progress, and
sey, where, finding him intelligent in learning the latter the men of order. He declared himthe duties of a sailor aboard a coasting vessel, self a white of pure caste, and hated the nehe made him a companion. This stranger was groes; though for all that, he would certainly
the little Rantaine, new grown up to manhood. have been an admirer of the Emperor SouRantaine, like Lethierry, had a bull neck, a louque. In 1815, at Bordeaux, the glow of his
large and powerful breadth of shoulders for car- royalist enthusiasm broke forth in the shape of
rying burdens, and loins like those of the Far- a huge white feather in his cap. His life had
nese Hercules. Lethierry and he had a re- been a series of eclipses, of appearances, disapmarkable similarity of appearance: Rantaine pearances, and reappearances. He was a sort
was the taller. People who saw them from be- of revolving light on the coasts of scampdom.
hind as they were walking side by side along He knew a little Turkish; instead of" guillothe port, exclaimed, " There are two brothers." tined" would say " nfbozsse."  He had been a
On looking them in the face the effect was dif- slave in Tripoli, in the house of a Thaleb, and
ferent: all that was open in the countenance had learnt Turkish by dint of blows with a
of Lethierry was reserved and cautious in that stick. His employment had been to stand at
of Rantaine. Rantaine was an expert swords- evenings at the doors of the mosque, there to
man, played on the harmonica, could snuff a read aloud to the faithful the Koran inscribed
candle at twenty paces with a pistol-ball, could upon slips of wood, or pieces of camel leather.
strike a tremendous blow with the fist, recite It is not improbable that he was a renegade.
verses from Voltaire's "Henriade," and inter-  He was capable of everything, and something
pret dreams; he knew by heart Les Tombeaux worse.
de Saint Denis," by Treneuil. He talked some-  He had a trick of laughing loud and knitting
times of having had relations with the Sultan his brows at the same time. He used to say,
of Calicut, "whom the Portuguese call the "In politics, I esteem only men inaccessible to
Zamorin."  If any one had seen the little its influences;" or, " I am for decency and good
memorandum-book which he carried about with morals;" or, "The pyramid must be replaced
him, he would have found notes and jottings of upon its base."  His manner was rather cheerthis kind: "At Lyons, in a fissure of the wall ful and cordial than otherwise. The expresof one of the cells in the prison of St. Joseph, a sion of his mouth contradicted the sense of his




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               23
words. His nostrils had an odd way of distend- meat being superior; that the sea risk was less
ing themselves. In the corners of his eyes he also for passengers; that this mode of travelling
had a little network of wrinkles, in which all was less expensive, shorter, and more sure; that
sorts of dark thoughts seemed to meet together. they started at a fixed time, and arrived at a
It was here alone that the secret of his physiog- fixed time; that consignments of fish, travelling
nomy could be thoroughly studied. His flat faster, arrived fresher, and that it was now posfoot was a vulture's claw. His skull was low  sible to find a rent in the French markets for
at the top and large about the temples. His the surplus of great takes of fish so common in
ill-shapen ear, bristling with hair, seemed to Guernsey. The butter, too, from the far-famed
say, " Beware of speaking to the beast in this Guernsey cows, made the passage quicker in the
cave."                                     "Devil Boat" than in the old sailing vessels,
One fine day in Guernsey, Rantaine was sud- and lost nothing of its good quality, insomuch
denly missing.                            that Dinan, in Brittany, became a customer for
Lethierry's comrade had absconded, leaving it, as well as St. Brieuc and Rennes. In short,
the treasury of their partnership empty.  thanks to what they called "Lethierry's Galley,"
In this treasury there was some money of the people enjoyed safe travelling, regular comRantaine's, no doubt, but there were also fifty munication, prompt and easy passages to and
thousand francs belonging to Lethierry.   fro, an increase of circulation, and an extension
Lethierry, by forty years of industry and prob- of markets and of commerce, and, finally, it was
ity as a coaster and ship-carpenter, had saved felt that it was necessary to patronize this "Devone hundred thousand francs. Rantaine rob- il Boat," which flew in the face of the Holy Scripbed him of half the sum.                   tures, and brought wealth to the island.  Some
Ialf ruined, Lethierry did not lose heart, but daring spirits even went so far as to express a
began at once to think how to repair his mis- positive satisfaction at it. Sieur Landoys, the
fortune. A stout heart may be ruined in for- registrar, bestowed his approval upon the vessel
tune, but not in spirit. It was just about that -an undoubted piece of impartiality on his
time that people began to talk of the new kind part, as he did not like Lethierry. For, first
of boat to be moved by steam-engines. Le- of all, Lethierry was entitled to the dignity of
thierry conceived the idea of trying Fulton's in- "Mess," while Landoys was merely "Sieur
vention, so much disputed about; and by one Landoys." Then, although registrar of St. Pierre
of these fireboats to connect the Channel Isl- Port, Landoys was a parishioner of St. Sampands with the French coast. He staked his all son. Now there was not in the entire parish
upon this idea; he devoted to it the wreck of another man besides them devoid of prejudices.
his savings.  Accordingly, six months after It seemed little enough, therefore, to indulge
Rantaine's flight, the astonished people of St. themselves with a detestation of each other.
Sampson beheld, issuing from the port, a vessel Two of a trade, says the proverb, rarely agree.
discharging huge volumes- of smoke, and look-  Sieur Landoys, however, had the honesty to
ing like a ship a-fire at sea. This was the first support the steam-boat.  Others followed Lansteam vessel to navigate the Channel.      doys. By little and little, these facts multiThis vessel, to which the people, in their dis- plied. The growth of opinion is like the rising
like and contempt for novelty, immediately gave tide. Time, and the continued and increasing
the nickname of " Lethierry's Galley," was an- success of the venture, with the evidence of real
nounced as intended to maintain a constant service rendered, and the improvement in the
communication between Guernsey and St. Malo. general welfare, gradually converted the people; and the day at length arrived when, with
4 --- -— the exception of a few wiseacres, every one admired "Lethierry's Galley."
IV.                       It would probably win less admiration nowCONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF UTOPIA.    a-days. This steam-boat of forty years since
would doubtless provoke a smile among our
IT may be well imagined that the new enter- modern boat-builders; for this marvel was illprise did not prosper much at first. The own- shaped, this prodigy was clumsy and infirm.
ers of cutters passing between the island of  The distance between our grand Atlantic
Guernsey and the French coast were loud in steam vessels of the present day and the boats
their outcries. They denounced this attack with wheel-paddles which Denis Papin floated
upon the Holy Scriptures and their monopoly. on the Fulda in 1707, is not greater than that
The chapels began to fulminate against it. One between a three-decker, like the Montebello,
reverend gentleman, named Elihu, stigmatized 200 feet long, having a main yard of 115 feet,
the new steam vessel as an "atheistical con- carrying a weight of 3000 tons, 1100 men, 120
struction," and the sailing boat was declared guns, 10,000 cannon-balls, and 160 packages of
the only orthodox craft. The people saw the canister, belching forth at every broadside, when
horns of the devil among the beasts which the in action, 3300 pounds of iron, and spreading to
fireship carried to and fro. This storm of pro- the wind, when it moves, 5600 square metres of
test continued a considerable time. At last, canvas, and the old Danish galley of the second
however, it began to be perceived that these an- century, discovered, full of stone hatchets, and
imals arrived less tired and sold better, their bows and clubs, in the mud of the sea-shore at




24                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
Wester-Satrup, and preserved at the Hotel de though she could aid herself at such times with
Ville at Flensburg.                       the second anchor. Her speed was six knots
Exactly one hundred years-from 1707 to an hour. When lying-to she rode well. Take
1807-separate the first paddle-boat of Papin her as she was, "Lethierry's Galley" was a good
from the first steam-boat of Fulton. Lethier- sea-boat; but people felt that, in moments of
ry's galley was assuredly a great improvement danger from reefs or water-spouts, she would be
upon those two rough sketches; but it was it- hardly manageable. Unhappily, her build made
self only a sketch. For all that, it was a mas- her roll about on the waves with a perpetual
terpiece in its way. Every scientific discovery creaking like that of a new shoe.
in embryo presents that double aspect-a mon-  She was, above all, a merchandise boat, and,
ster in the foetus, a marvel in the germ.  like all ships built more for commerce than for
fighting, was constructed exclusively with a view
----— X —               to stowage.  She carried few passengers. The
transport of cattle rendered stowage difficult and
V.                     very peculiar.  Vessels carried bullocks at that
S.E DEVIL BOAT.            time in the hold, which was a complication of
SHE ]DEVL nBOAT.                              I
the difficulty. At the present day they are
"LE THIERRY'S GALLEY" was not masted with stowed on the fore-deck.  The paddle-boxes of
a view to sailing well; a fact which was not a Lethierry's " Devil Boat" were painted white,
defect; it is, indeed, one of the laws of naval the hull, down to the water-line, red, and all the
construction. Besides, her motive power being rest of the vessel black, according to the somesteam, her sails were only accessory. A paddle what ugly fashion of this century. When empsteam-boat, moreover, is almost insensible to ty she drew seven feet of water, and when laden
sails. The new steam vessel was too round, fourteen.
short, and thick-set. She had too much bow,  With regard to the engine, it was of considand too great a breadth of quarter. The daring erable power. To speak exactly, its power was
of inventors had not yet reached the point of equal to that of one horse to every three tons
making a steam vessel light. Lethierry's boat burden, which is almost equal to that of a tughad some of the defects of Gilliatt's Dutch sloop. boat. The paddles were well placed, a little in
She pitched very little, but she rolled a good advance of the centre of gravity of the vessel.
deal.  She had too much beam for her length. The maximum pressure of the engine was equal
The massive machinery encumbered her, and, to two atmospheres. It consumed a great deal
to make her capable of carrying a heavy cargo, of coal, although it was constructed on the conher constructors had raised her bulwarks to an densation and expansion principles. For that
unusual height, giving to the vessel the defects of period the engine seemed, and indeed was, adold seventy-fours, a bastard model which would mirable. It had been constructed in France, at
have to be cut down to render them really sea- the works at Bercy. Mess Lethierry had roughworthy, or fit to go into action. Being short, ly sketched it; the engineer who had constructshe ought to have been able to veer quickly-  ed it in accordance with his diagram was dead,
the time employed in a maneuvre of that kind so that the engine was unique, and probably
being in proportion to the length of the vessel-  could not have been replaced. The designer
but her weight deprived her of the advantage still lived, but the constructor was no more.
of her shortness. Her midship frame was too  The engine had cost forty thousand francs.
broad, a fact which retarded her, the resistance  Lethierry had himself constructed the "Devil
of the sea being proportioned to the largest sec- Boat" upon the great covered stocks by the side
tion below the water-line, and to the square of of the first tower between St. Pierre Port and
the speed. Her prow was vertical, which would St. Sampson. He had been to BrC:me to buy
not be regarded as a fault at the present day, the wood. All his skill as a shipwright was exbut at that period this portion of the construe- hausted in its construction; his ingenuity might
tion was invariably sloped at an angle of forty- be seen in the planks, the seams of which were
five degrees. All the curving lines of the hull straight and even, and covered with sarangousti,
agreed well together. The rudder was the old- an Indian mastic, better than resin. The sheathfashioned bar-rudder, not the wheeled one of ing was well beaten. To remedy the roundness
the present time. Two skiffs, a species of you- of the hull, Lethierry had fitted out a boom at
yous, were suspended to the davits. The ves- the bowsprit, which allowed him to add a false
sel had four anchors-the sheet anchor, the sec- spritrail to the regular one. On the day of the
ond or working anchor, and two bower an- launch, he cried aloud, "At last I am afloat!"
chors. These four anchors, slung by chains, The vessel was successful, in fact, as the reader
were moved, according to the occasion, by the has already learnt.
great capstan of the poop, or by the small cap-  Either by chance or design she had been
stan at the prow. At that period the pump- launched on the 14th of July, the anniversary
action windlass had not superseded the inter. of the taking of the Bastille.  On that day,
mitting efforts of the old handspike. Having mounted upon the bridge between the two padonly two bower anchors, one on the starboard die-boxes, looked Lethierry upon the sea, and exand the other on the larboard sidethe he vessel claimed, "It is our turn now! The Parisians
could not move conveniently in certain winds, took the Bastille, now sciences take the sea."




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                25
Lethierry's boat made the voyage from Guern- corner of this house was inscribed the name of
sey to St. Malo once a week. She started on the "Bravees." Its front formed a part of the
the Tuesday morning, and returned on the Fri- wall of the port itself, and it was remarkable for
day evening, in time for the Saturday market. a double row of windows: on the north, alongShe was a stronger craft than any of the largest side a little enclosure filled with flowers, and on
coasting sloops in all the archipelago, and her the south commanding a view of the ocean. It
capacity being in proportion to her dimensions, had thus two facades, one open to the tempest
one of her voyages was equal to four voyages of and the sea, the other looking into a garden
an ordinary boat in the same trade; hence they filled with roses.
were very profitable. The reputation of a vessel. These two frontages seemed made for the two
depends on its stowage, and Lethierry was an inmates of the house-Mess Lethierry and Deadmirable superintendent of cargo. When he ruchette.
was no longer able to work himself, he trained  The "Bravees" was popular at St. Sampson,
up a sailor to undertake this duty. At the end for Mess Lethierry had at length become a popof two years, the steam-boat brought in a clear ular man. This popularity was due partly to
seven hundred and fifty pounds sterling a-year, his good nature, his devotedness, and his couror eighteen thousand francs. The pound ster- age; partly to the number of lives he had saved;
ling of Guernsey is worth twenty-four francs and a great deal to his success, and to the fact
only; that of England twenty-five, and that of that he had awarded to St. Sampson the honour
Jersey twenty-six. These differences are less of being the port of the departure and arrival
unimportant than they seem;. the banks, at all of the new steam-boat. Having made the disevents, know how to turn them to advantage.  covery that the " Devil Boat" was decidedly a
success, St. Pierre, the capital, desired to obtain
ai —-l^ —-  l    it for that port, but Lethierry held fast to St.
Sampson. It was his native town.  "It was
VI.                    there that I was first pitched into the water," he
LETHIERRY S EXALTATION.          used to say; hence his great local popularity.
His position as a small landed proprietor paying
THE'' Devil Boat" prospered. Mess Lethi- land-tax, made him, what they call in Guernsey,
erry began to look forward to the time when he an inhabitant. He was chosen land-tax assess.
should be called "Monsieur."  At Guernsey, or. The poor sailor had mounted five out of
people do not become "monsieurs"at one bound. six steps of the Guernsey social scale; he had
Between the plain man and the gentleman there attained the dignity of " Mess;" he was rapidly
is quite a scale to climb. To begin with, we approaching the Monsieur; and who could prehave the simple name, plain "Peter," let us sup- diet whether he might not even rise higher than
pose; the second step is "Neighbour Peter;" that; who could say that they might not one
the third, "Father Peter;" the fourth, " Sieur day find in the almanack of Guernsey, under
Peter;" the fifth, " Mess Peter;" and then we the heading of "Nobility and Gentry," the asreach the summit in "Monsieur Peter."     tonishing and superb inscription, --  LethierThis scale, ascending thus from the ground, ry, Esq.
is carried to still greater heights. All the up-  But Mess Lethierry had nothing of vanity in
per classes of England join on and continue it. his nature, or he had no sense of it; or if he
Here are the various steps, becoming more and had, disdained it: to know that he was useful
more glorious. Above the Monsieur, or " Mr.," was his greatest pleasure; to be popular touched
there is the "Esquire;" above the esquire, the him less than being necessary; he had, as we
knight; above the knight, then still rising, we have already said, only two objects of delight,
have the baronet, the Scotch laird, the baron, and consequently only two ambitions: Durande
the viscount, the earl (called count in France, and Deruchette.
and jarl in Norway); the marquis, the duke,  However this may have been, he had emthe prince of the blood royal, and the king: so barked in the lottery of the sea, and had gained
by degrees we ascend from the people to the the chief prize.
middle class, from the middle class to the bar-  This chief prize was the Durande steaming
onetage, from the baronetage to the peerage, away in all her pride.
from the peerage to royalty.
Thanks to his successful ingenuity, thanks to 
steam, and his engines, and the "Devil Boat,"
Mess Lethierry was fast becoming an important                VII.
personage. When building his vessel he had
been compelled to borrow money. He had be- THE SAME GODFATHER AND THE SAME PATRON
come indebted at Brime, he had become indebt-               SAINT.
ed at St. Malo; but every year he diminished  HAVING created his steam-boat, Lethierry had
his obligations,                          christened it; he had called it Durande —"La
He had moreover purchased on credit at the Durande."  We will speak of her henceforth
very entrance to the port of St. Sampson a pret- by no other name: we will claim the liberty
ty stone-built house, entirely new, situate be- also, in spite of typographical usage, of not untween the sea and a pretty garden. On the derlining this name Durande; conforming in




26                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
this to the notion of Mess Lethierry, in whose posed of two words which signify a husband
eyes La Durande was almost a living person.  and an ass."*  He held fast to Deruchette.
Durande and Deruchette are the same name.  It would be a mistake to infer from LethierDeruchette is the diminutive.              ry's pun that he had no wish to see his niece
This diminutive is very common in France.  married. He desired to marry her, certainly;
In the country the names of saints are often but in his own way: he intended her to have a
endowed with all these diminutives as well as husband after his own heart - one who would
all their augmentatives. One might suppose work hard, and whose wife would have little to
there were several persons when there is, in fact, do. He liked rough hands in a man, and delionly one. This system of patrons and patron- cate ones in a woman. To prevent Deruchette
esses under different names is by no means rare. spoiling her pretty hands he had always brought
Lise, Lisette, Lisa, Elisa, Isabelle, Lisbeth, her up like a young lady; he had provided her
Betsy, all these are simply Elizabeth. It is with a music-master, a piano, a little library,
probable that Mahout, Maclou, Malo, and Ma- and a few needles and threads in a pretty workgloire are the same saint: this, however, we do basket: she was, indeed, more often reading
not vouch for.                             than stitching, more often playing than reading;
Saint Durande is a saint of l'Angoumois and this was as Mess Lethierry wished it; to be
of the Charente; whether she is an orthodox charming was all that he expected of her: he
member of the calendar is a question for the had reared the young girl like a flower. WhoBollandists: orthodox or not, she has been made ever has studied the character of sailors well unthe patron saint of numerous chapels.      derstand this-rude and hard in their nature,
It was while Lethierry was a young sailor at they have an odd partiality for grace and deliRochefort that he had made the acquaintance cacy. To realize the idea of the uncle, the
of this saint, probably in the person of some niece ought to have been rich-so, indeed, felt
pretty Charantaise, perhaps in that of the gri- Mess Lethierry. His steam-boat voyaged for
sette with the pretty nails. The saint had re- this end. The mission of Durande was to promained sufficiently in his memory for him to vide a marriage portion for Deruchette.
give the name to the two things which he loved
most-Durande to the steam-boat, D-ruchette to
the girl.                                                     T
Of one he was the father, of the other the
uncle.                                                  BONNIE DUNDEE.
Deruchette was the daughter of a brother who  DERUCHETTE occupied the prettiest room at
had died: she was an orphan child: he had theBravees ithadtwowindows,wasfurnished
adopted her, and had taken the place both of with various articles made of fine-grained mafather and mother,                         hogany, had a bed with four curtains, green
Deruchette was not only his niece, she was and white, and looked out upon the garden, and
his godchild; he had held her in his arms at beyond it towards the high hill on whieh stands
the baptismal font; it was he who had chosen the Chateau du Valle. Gilliatt's house, the
her patron saint, Durande, and her Christian Bi, de la Rue, was on the other side of this hill.
name, Deruchette.                            Deruchette had her music and piano in this
Deruchette, as we have said, was born at St. chamber; she accompanied herself on the inPierre Port. Her name was inscribed at its strument when singing the air which she predate on the register of the parish.        ferred-the melancholy Scottish air of "BonAs long as the niece was a child, and the un- nie Dundee." The very spirit of night breathes
cle poor, nobody took heed of her appellation in this melody, but her voice was full of the
of Deruchette, but when the little girl became a freshness of dawn. The contrast was quaint
miss, and the sailor a gentleman, Deruchette and pleasing  people said, "Miss Deruchette
shocked the feelings of Guernsey society; the at her piano."
uncouthness of the name astonished every one.  The passers by the foot of the hill stopped
Folks asked Mess Lethierry " why Deruchette?" sometimes before the wall of the garden of the
heIanswered, "It is a very good name ingarden of the
he answered, "It is a very good name in its Bravees to listen to that sweet voice and plaintway."  Several attempts were made to get him ive song.
to obtain a change in the baptismal name, but  Ddruchette was the very embodiment of joy
he would be no party to them. One day a fine as she went to and fro in the house; she brought
lady of the upper circle of society in St. Samp- with her a perpetual spring.  She was beautison, the wife of a rich retired iran-founder, said ful, but more pretty than beautiful, and still
to Mess Lethierry, "In future I shall call your more graceful than pretty. She recalled to the
daughter Nancy."                           good old pilots, friends of Mess Lethierry, that
"If names of country towns are in fashion," princess in the song which the soldiers and
said he, "why not Lons le Saulnier?" The sailors sing, who was so beautifulfine lady did not yield her point, and on the
morrow said, "We are determined not to have      uele passait pour telle dans le rgiment."
it Deruchette. I have found for your daughter Mess Lethierry used to say, " She has a head
a pretty name-Marianne."   "A very pretty of hair like a ship's cable."
name, indeed," replied Mess Lethierry, " con-  * A play upon the French words marl and dne.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                27
From her infancy she had been remarkable with the Norman spirit pervading the relations
for beauty. The learned in such matters had of servant and master in the Channel Islands.
grave doubts about her nose, but the little one Grace, coquettish and good-looking, was always
having probably determined to be pretty, had scanning the future with a nervous anxiety.
finally satisfied their requirements.  She grew  This arose from the fact of her not only having,
to girlhood without any serious loss of beauty; like Douce, "a gallant," but also, as the scanher nose became neither too long nor too short; dal-loving averred, a sailor husband, whose reand, when grown up, her critics admitted her turn one day was a thing she dreaded. This,
to be charming.                            however, does not concern us. In a household
She never addressed her uncle otherwise less austere and less innocent, Douce would
than as father.                            have continued to be the servant, but Grace
Lethierry allowed her to soil her fingers a would have become the soubrette. The dangerlittle in gardening, and even in some kind of ous talents of Grace were lost upon a young mishousehold duties: she watered her beds of pink tress so pure and good as Deruchette. For the
hollyhocks, purple foxgloves, perennial phloxes, rest, the intrigues of Douce and Grace were cauand scarlet herb bennets.  She took good ad- tiously concealed. Mess Lethierry knew nothvantage of the climate of Guernsey, so favoura- ing of such matters, and no token of them had
ble to flowers. She had,'like many other per- ever reached Deruchette.
sons there, aloes in the open ground, and, what  The lower room of the ground floor, a hall
is more difficult, she succeeded in cultivating the with a large fireplace, and surrounded with
Nepaulese cinquefoil. Her little kitchen-gar- benches and tables, had served in the last cenden was scientifically arranged; she was able tury as a meeting-place for a conventicle of
to produce from it several kinds of rare vegeta- French Protestant refugees. The sole ornables. She sowed Dutch cauliflower and Brus- ment of the bare stope wall was a sheet of
sels cabbages, which she thinned out in July, parchment, set in a frame of black wood, on
turnips for August, endive for September, short which were represented some of the charitable
parsnip for the autumn, and rampions for winter. deeds of the great Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux.
Mess Lethierry did not interfere with her in Some poor diocesans of this famous orator, surthis, so long as she did not handle the spade named the "Eagle," persecuted by him at the
and rake too much, or meddle with the coarser time of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes,
kinds of garden labour. He had provided her and driven to take shelter at Guernsey, had
with two servants, one named Grace, and the hung this picture on the wall to preserve the
other Douce, which are favourite names in remembrance of these facts.  The spectator
Guernsey. Grace and Douce did the hard work who had the patience to decipher a rude handof the house and garden, and they had the right writing in faded ink might have learnt the folto have red hands.                        lowing facts, which.are but little known: "29th
With regard to Mess Lethierry, his room was October, 1685, Monsieur the Bishop of Meaux
a little retreat with a view over the port, and appeals to the king to destroy the temples of
communicating with the great lower room of Morcef and Nanteuil."-"2d April, 1686, Arthe ground floor, on which was situated the rest of Cochard, father and son, for their religdoor of the house, near which the various stair- ions opinions, at the request of Monsieur the
cases met.                                Bishop of Meaux.   Released: the Cochards
His room was furnished with his hammock, having recanted."-" 28th October, 1699, Monhis chronometer, and his pipe; there were also sieur the Bishop of Meaux sent to Mde. Ponta table and a chair. The ceiling had been chartrain a petition of remonstrance, pointing
whitewashed, as well as the four walls. A fine out that it will be necessary to place the young
marine map, bearing the inscription W. Faden, ladies named Chalandes and De Neuville, who
5 Charing Cross, Geographer to his Majesty, are of the reformed religion, in the House of
and representing the Channel Islands, was nail- the'New Catholics' at Paris."-" 7th July,
ed up at the side of the door, and on the left, 1703, the king's order executed as requested by
stretched out and fastened with other nails, ap- Monsieur the Bishop of Meaux for shutting up
peared one of those large cotton handkerchiefs, in an asylum Baudouin and his wife, two bad
on which are printed in colours the signals of Catholics of Fublaines."
all countries in the world, having at the four  At the end of the hall, near the door of Mess
corners the standards of France, Russia, Spain, Lethierry's room, was a little corner with a
and the United States, and in the centre the wooden partition, which had been the Hugueunion jack of England.                    nots' sanctum,-and had become, thanks to its
Douce and Grace were two faithful creatures row of rails and a small hole to pass paper or
within certain limits.  Douce was good-na- money through, the steam-boat office; that is
tured enough, and Grace was probably good- to say, the office of the Durande, kept by Mess
looking. Douce was unmarried, had secretly Lethierry in person. Upon the old oaken read"a gallant." In the Channel Islands the word ing-desk, where once rested the Holy Bible, lay
is common, as indeed is the fact itself. The a great ledger, with its alternate pages headed
two girls regarded as servants had something Dr. and Cr.
of the Creole in their character, a sort of slowness in their movements, not out of keeping —---




28                        THE TOILERS OF tHE SEA.
IX.                    about this peculiarity. Nothing is prettier than
THE MAN WHO DISCOVERED RANTAINE'S CHAR- a pouting beauty.   She laughed and scolded.
"My dear father," she would say, "what a
smell of pitch!" and she would give him a genAs loig as Mess Lethierry had been able to tie tap upon his broad shoulders.
do duty, he had commanded the Durande, and  This good old seaman had gathered from his
had had no other pilot or captain but himself; voyages many wonderful stories. He had seen
but a time had come, as we have said, when he at Madagascar birds' feathers, three of which
had been compelled to find a successor. He sufficed to make a roof of a house. He had
had chosen for that purpose Sieur Clubin, of seen in India field sorrel, the stalks of which
Torteval, a taciturn man. Sieur Clubin had a were nine inches high. In New Iolland he
character upon the coast for strict probity. He had seen troops of turkeys and geese led about
became the alter ego, the double of Mess Le- and guarded by a bird, like a flock by a shepthierry.                                  herd's dog: this bird was called the Agami.
Sieur Clubin, although he had-rather the look He had visited elephants' cemeteries. In Afriof a notary than of a sailor, was a mariner of ca, he had encountered gorillas, a terrible sperare skill. He had all the talents which are re- cies of man-monkey. He knew the ways of all
quired to meet dangers of every kind. He was the ape tripe, from the wild dog-faced monkey,
a skilful stower, a safe man aloft, an able and which he called the Macaco-bravo, to the howlcareful boatswain, a powerful steersman, an ex- ing monkey or Macaco-barbado. In Chili, he
perienced pilot, and a bold captain. He was had seen a pouched monkey move the compasprudent, and he carried his prudence sometimes sion of the huntsman by showing its little one.
to the point of daring, which is a great quality He had seen in California a hollow trunk of a
at sea. His natural apprehensiveness of danger tree fall to the ground, so vast that a man on
was tempered by a strong instinct of what was horseback could ride one hundred paces inside.
possible in an emergency.  He was one of In Morocco, he had seen the Mozabites and the
those mariners who will face risks to a point Biskris fighting with matraks and bars of iron
perfectly well known to themselves, who gener- - the Biskris, because they had been called
ally manage to come successfully out of every kelbs, which means dogs; and the Mozabites,
peril. Every certainty which a man can com- because they had been treated as lclamsi, which
mand, dealing with so fickle an element as the means people of the fifth sect. He had seen in
sea, he possessed. Sieur Clubin, moreover, was China the pirate Chanh-thong-quan-larh-Quoi
a renowned swimmer; he was one of that race cut to pieces for having assassinated the Ap of
of men broken in to the buffeting of the waves, a village. At Thu-dan-mot, he had seen a lion
who can remain as long as they please in the carry off an old woman in the open marketwater-who can start from the Havre-des-Nas place. He was present at the arrival of the
at Jersey, double the Colettes, swim round the Great Serpent brought from Canton to Saigon
Hermitage and Castle Elizabeth, and return in to celebrate in the pagoda of Cho-len the fete
two hours to the point from which they started. of Quan-nam, the goddess of navigators. He
He came from Torteval, where he had the rep- had beheld the'great Quan-Su among the Moi.
utation of often having swam across the pas- At Rio de Janeiro, he had seen the Brazilian
sage so much dreaded, from the Hanway Rocks ladies in the evening put little balls of gauze
to the point of Pleinmont.                into their hair, each containing a beautiful kind
One circumstance which had recommended of firefly; the whole forming a head-dress of
Sieur Clubin to Mess Lethierry more. than any little twinkling lights. He had combated in
other was his having judged correctly the char- Paraguay with swarms of enormous ants and
acter of Rantaine. He had pointed out to Le- spiders, big and downy as an infant's head, and
thierry the dishonesty of the man, and had said compassing with their long legs a third of a
"Rantaine will rob you."  His prediction was yard, and attacking men by pricking them with
verified. More than once —in matters, it is their bristles, which enter the skin as sharp as
true, not very important-Mess Lethierry had arrows, and raise painful blisters.' On the rivput his ever scrupulous honesty to the proof; er Arinos, a tributary of the Tocantins, in the
and he freely communicated with him on the virgin forests to the north of Diamantina,* he
subject of his affairs. Mess Lethierry used to had determined the existence of the famous batsay, "A good conscience expects to be treated shaped people, the Murcilagos, or men who are
with perfect confidence."                 born with white hair and red eyes, who lived in
the shady solitudes of the woods, sleep by day,
o --- ~ —-awake by night, and fish and hunt in the dark,
seeing better then than by the light of the moon.
X.                     He told how, near Beyroit, once in an encampLONG PYARNS.               ment of an expedition of which he formed part,
a rain gauge belonging to one of the party hapMEss LETHIERRY, for the sake of his own pened to be stolen from a tent. A wizard,
ease, always wore his sea-faring clothes, and wearing two or three strips of leather only, and
preferred his tarpauling overcoat to his pilot  The reader need hardly be informed that these are
jacket.  Deruchette felt vexed occasionally imaginary places.-TRANs.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               29
looking like a man having nothing on but his vided at the same time for both his idols; to
braces, thereupon rang a bell at the end of a have so found in the guide and companion of
horn so violently, that a hyena finally answered the one a commander for the other. What is a
the summons by bringing back the missing in- husband?  The pilot on the voyage of matristrument. The hyena was, in fact, the thief. mony. Why not the same conductor for the
These veritable histories bore a strong resem- vessel and for the girl? The affairs of a houseblance to fictions; but they amused Deruchette. hold have their tides, their ebbs and flows, and
The poupee or "doll" of the Durande, as the he who knows how to steer a bark ought to
people of the Channel Islands call the figure- know how to guide a woman's destiny, subject
head of a ship, was the connecting link between as both are to the influences of the moon and
the vessel and Letlierry's niece.         the wind. Sieur Clubin, being only fifteen years
The poupTe of the Durande was particularly younger than Lethierry, would necessarily be
dear to Mess Lethierry. He had instructed the only a provisional master for the Durande. It
carver to make it resemble Deruchette. It would be necessary to find a young captain, a
looked like a rude attempt to cut out a face permanent master, a true successor of the foundwith a hatchet. It was like a clumsy log try- er, inventor, and creator of the first Channel
ing hard to look like a girl.             steam-boat. A captain for the Durande who
This unshapely block produced a great effect should come up to his ideal would have been
upon Mess Lethierry's imagination. He look- almost a son-in-law in Lethierry's eyes. Why
ed upon it with an almost superstitious admira- not make him a son-in-law in a double sense?
tion. His faith in it' was complete. He was The idea pleased him. The husband in posse
able to trace in it an excellent resemblance to of Deruchette haunted his dreams. His ideal
Deruchette. Thus the dogma resembles the was a powerful seaman, tanned and browned by
truth, and the idol the deity.            weather, a sea Athlete. This, however, was not
Mess Lethierry had two grand fete-days in exactly the ideal of Deruchette. Her dreams,
every week; one was Tuesday, the other Fri- if dreams they. could even be called, were of a
day. His first delight consisted in seeing the more ethereal character.
Durande weigh anchor; his second in seeing   The uncle and the niece were at all events
her enter the port again. He leaned upon his agreed in not being in haste to seek a solution
elbows at the window contemplating his work, of these problems.' When Deruchette began to
and was happy.                            be regarded as a probable heiress, a crowd of
On Fridays, the presence of Mess Lethierry suitors had presented themselves. Attentions
at his window was a signal. When people under these circumstances are not generally
passing the Bravees saw him lighting his pipe, worth much. Mess Lethierry felt this. He
they said, "Ay! the steam-boat is in sight." would grumble out the old French proverb, "A
One kind of smoke was the herald of the other. maiden of gold, a suitor of brass."  He politely
The Durande, when she entered the port, showed the fortune-seekers to the door. He
made her cable fast to a huge iron ring under was content to wait, and so was Deruchette.
Mess Lethierry's window, and fixed in the base-  It was, perhaps, a singular fact that he had
ment of the house. On those nights, Lethierry little penchant for the local aristocracy. In that
slept soundly in his hammock, with a soothing respect Mess Lethierry showed himself not enconsciousness of the presence of Deruchette tirely English. It will hardly be believed that
asleep in her room near him, and of the Du- he even refused for Deruchette a Ganduel of
rande moored opposite.                    Jersey, and a Bugnet-Nicolin of Sark. People
The moorings of the Durande were close to were bold enough to affirm, although we doubt if
the bell of the port. A little strip of quay pass- this were possible, that he had even declined the
ed thence before the door of the Bravees.  proposals of a member of the family of Edou,
The quay, the Bravees, and its house, the which is evidently descended from "Edou-ard"
garden, the alleys bordered with edges, and the (Anglice Edward) the Confessor.
greater part even of the surrounding houses, no
longer exist. The demand for Guernsey granite has invaded these too. The whole of this                 XII.
part of the town is now occupied by stone-cut-  AN            THE CHARACTE
Ay ANOMALY IN THE CIHARACTER OF
ters' yards.                                              LETHIERRY.
MiESS LETHIERRY had a failing, and a serious
XI.                    one. He detested a priest; though not as an
individual, but as an institution. Reading one
MATRIMONIAL PROSPECTS.           day-for he used to read-in a work of Voltaire
DERUCHETTE was approaching womanhood, -for he would even read Voltaire-the remark
and was still unmarried.                  that priests "have something cat-like in their
Mess Lethierry, in bringing her up to have nature," he laid down the book, and was heard
white hands, had also rendered her somewhat to mutter, "Then I suppose I have something
fastidious. A training of that kind has its dis- dog-like in mine."
advantages; but Lethierry was himself still more  It must be recollected that the priests-Lufastidious. He would have liked to have pro- theran and Calvinist, as well as Catholic-had




30                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
vigorously combated the new "Devil Boat, and  The phlegmatic character of the Germans fahad persecuted its inventor.  To be a sort of vours, I suppose, this peculiar arrangement, but
revolutionist in the art of navigation, to intro- in Guernsey every religion has its own domicile;
duce a spirit of progress in the Norman archi- there is the orthodox parish and the heretic parpelago, to disturb the peace of the poor little isl- ish; the individual may choose. " Neither one
and of Guernsey with a new invention, was, in nor the other" was the choice of Mess Lethierry.
their eyes, as we have not concealed from the  This sailor, workman, philosopher, and parreader, an abominable and most condemnable venu trader, though a simple man in appearrashness. Nor had they omitted to condemn it ance, was by no means simple at bottom. He
pretty loudly. It must not be forgotten that we had his opinions and his prejudices.  On the
are now speaking of the Guernsey clergy of a subject of the priests he was immovable; he
bygone generation, very different from that of would have entered the lists with Montlosier.
the present time, who in almost all the local  Occasionally he indulged in rather disrespectplaces of worship display a laudable sympathy ful jokes upon this subject. He had certain
with progress.  They had embarrassed Lethier- odd expressions thereupon peculiar to himself,
ry in a hundred ways; every sort of resisting but significant enough. Going to confession he
force which can be found in sermons and dis- called "combing one's conscience."- The little
courses had been employed against him. De- learning that he had —a certain amount of
tested by the churchmen, he naturally came to reading picked up here and there between the
detest them in his turn. Their hatred was the squalls at sea -did not prevent his making
extenuating circumstance to be taken into ac- blunders in spelling. He made also mistakes
count in judging of his.                   in pronunciation, some of which, however, gave
But it must be confessed that his dislike for a double sense to his words, which might have
priests was, in some degree, in his very nature. been suspected of a sly intention.
It was hardly necessary for them to hate him in  Though he was a strong anti-papist, that cirorder to inspire him with aversion. As he said, cumstance was far from conciliating the Anglihe moved among them like the dog among cats. cans. He was no more liked by the Protestant
He had an antipathy to them, not only in idea, rectors than by the Catholic cures.  The enunbut in what is more difficult to analyse, his in- ciation of the gravest dogmas did not prevent
stincts. He felt their secret claws, and showed his anti-theological temper bursting forth. Achis teeth; sometimes, it must be confessed, a cident, for example, having once brought him
little at random and out of season. It is a mis- to hear a sermon on eternal punishment by the
take to make no distinctions: a dislike in the Reverend Jaquemin Herode-a magnificent dismass is a prejudice. The good Savoyard cure course, filled from one end to the other with sawould have found no favour in his eyes. It is cred texts, proving the everlasting pains, the tornot certain that a worthy priest was even a pos- tures, the torments, the perditions, the inexorasible thing in Lethierry's mind. His philoso- ble chastisements, the burnings without end,
phy was carried so far that his good sense some- the inextinguishable maledictions, the wrath
times abandoned him. There is such a thing of the Almighty, the celestial fury, the divine
as the intolerance of tolerants, as well as the vengeance, and other incontestable realities-he
violence of moderates. But Lethierry was at was heard to say as he was going out in the
bottom too good-natured to be a thorough hater. midst of the faithful flock, "You see, I have an
He did not attack so much as avoid. He kept odd notion of my own on thisimatter, I imagine
the church people at a distance. He suffered God as a merciful being."
evil at their hands, but he confined himself to  This leaven of atheismlwas doubtless due to
not wishing them any good. The shade of dif- his sojourn in France.
ference, in fact, between his aversion and theirs,  Although a Guernsey man of pure extraction,
lay in the fact that they bore animosity, while he was called in the island "the Frenchman;"
he had only a strong antipathy. Small as is but chiefly on account of his "improper" manthe island of Guernsey, it has, unfortunately, ner of speaking. He did not indeed conceal the
plenty of room for differences of religion; there, truth from himself. He was impregnated with
to take the broad distinction, is the Catholic ideas subversive of established institutions. His
faith and the Protestant faith: every form of obstinacy in constructing the "Devil Boat" had
worship has its temple or chapel. In Germany, proved that. He used to say, " I have a little
at Heidelberg, for example, people are not so of'89 in my head."  A doubtful sort of avowparticular; they divide a church in two, one al. These were not his only indiscretions. In
half for Saint Peter, the other half for Calvin, France "to preserve appearances," in England
and between the two is a partition to prevent re-" to be respectable," is the chief condition of a
ligious variances terminating in fisticuffs. The quiet life. To be respectable implies a multishares are equal; the Catholics have three al- tude of little observances, from the strict keeptars, the Huguenots three altars. As the serv- ing of Sunday down to the careful tying of a
ices are at the same hours, one bell summons cravat.  "To act so that nobody may point at
both denominations to prayers; it rings, in fact, you"-this is the terrible social law. I To be
both for God and for Satan, according as each pointed at with the finger is almost tie same
pleases to regard it.  Nothing can ng can        as an anathematization. i Little towns, alsimple.                                    ways hot-beds of gossip, are remarkable for that




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                31
isolating malignancy, which is like the tremen-              XIII.
dous malediction of the Church seen through the
THOUGHTLESSNESS ADDS A GRACE TO BEAUTY.
wrong end of the telescope. The bravest are
afraid of this ordeal. They are ready to con-  A woRD once said, Mess Lethierry rememfront the storm, the fire of cannon, but they bered it; a word once said, Deruchette soon
shrink at the glance of " Mrs. Grundy."  Mess forgot it. Here was another difference between
Lethierry was more obstinate than logical; but the uncle and the niece.
under pressure even his obstinacy would bend.  Brought up in the peculiar way already deIte put-to use another of his phrases, eminent- scribed, Deruchette was little accustomed to rely suggestive of latent compromises not always sponsibility. There is a latent danger in an
pleasant to avow-" a little water in his wine." education not sufficiently serious, which cannot
IIe kept aloof from the clergy, but he did not be too much insisted on. It is perhaps unwise
absolutely close his door against them.  On to endeavour to make a child happy too soon.
official occasions, and at the customary epochs  So long as she was happy, Deruchette thought
of pastoral visits, he received with sufficiently all was well. She knew, too, that it was algood grace both the Lutheran rector and the ways a pleasure to her uncle to see her pleased.
Papist chaplain. He had even, though at dis- The religious sentiment in her nature was sattant intervals, accompanied Deruchette to the isfied with going to the parish church four times
Anglican parish church, to which D6ruchette in the year. We have seen her in her Christ.
herself, as we have said, only went on the four mas-day toilette. Of life slie was entirely iggreat festivals of the year.               norant.  She had a disposition which one day
On the whole, these little concessions, which might lead her to love passionately. Meanalways cost him a pang, irritated him; and, far while she was contented.
from inclining him towards the church people,  She sang by fits and starts, chatted by fits and
only increased his inward disinclination for starts, enjoyed the hour as it passed, fulfilled
them. He compensated himself by more rail- some little duty, and was gone again, and was
lery. His nature, in general so devoid of bitter- delightful in all. Add to all this the English
ness, had no uncharitable side except this. To sort of liberty which she enjoyed. In England
alter him, however, was impossible.       the rosy infants go alone; girls are their own
In fact, this was in his very temperament, and mistresses, and adolescence is almost wholly unwas beyond his own power to control.       restrained.  Such are the differences of manEvery sort of priest or clergyman was dis- ners. Later, how many of these free maidens
tasteful to him. He had a little of the old rev- become female slaves? We used the word in
olutionary want of reverence. He did not dis- its least odious sense; we mean that they are
tinguish between one form of worship and an- free in the development of their nature, but
other. He did not do justice to that great step slaves to duty.
in the progress of ideas, the denial of the real  Deruchette awoke every morning with little
presence. His shortsightedness in these mat- thought of her actions of the day before. It
ters even prevented his perceiving any essential would have troubled her a good deal to have had
difference between a minister and an abbe. A  to give an account of how she had spent her
reverend doctor and a reverend father were time the previous week. All this, however, did
pretty nearly the same to him. He used to not prevent her having certain hours of strange
say, "Wesley is not a bit more to my taste than disquietude: times when some dark cloud seemLoyola." When he saw a reverend pastor walk- ed to pass over the brightness of her joy. Those
ing with his wife, he would turn to look at them, azure depths are subject to such shadows! But
and mutter " a married priest," in a tone which clouds like these soon passed away. She quickbrought out all the absurdity which those words ly shook off such moods with a cheerful laugh,
had in the ears of Frenchmen at that time. He knowing neither why she had been sad, nor why
used to relate how on his last voyage to Eng- she had regained her serenity. She was always
land he had seen the "Bishopess" of London. at play. As a child, she would take delight in
His dislike for marriages of that sort amounted teasing the passers-by. She played practical
almost to disgust.  "Gown and gown do not jokes upon the boys. If the fiend himself had
mate well," he would say.   The sacerdotal passed that way, she would hardly have spared
function was to him in the nature of a distinct him some ingenious trick. She was pretty and
sex. It would have been natural to him to innocent; and she could abuse the immunity
have said, " Neither a man nor a woman, only accorded to such qualities. She was ready with
a priest;" and e~ h`ad the bad taste to apWply to a smile as a cat with a stroke of her claws. So
the Anglican and the Roman Catholic clergy much the worse for the victim of her scratches.
the same disdainful epithets. He confounded She thought no more of them. Yesterday had
the two cassocks in the same phraseology. He no existence for her. She lived in the fullness
did not take the trouble to vary in favour of of to-day.  Such it is to have too much happiCatholics or Lutherans, or whatever they might ness fall to one's lot! With Deruchette imbe, the figures of speech common among mili- pressions vanished like the melted snow.
tary men of that period. He would say to Deruchette, "Marry whom you please, provided 
you do not marry a parson."




32                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
BOOK IV.
THE BAGPIPE.
I.                    that the morrow of Christmas would be the
STREAKS OF FIE IN THE HORIZON.       twenty-seventh day of the moon, and that consequently high-water would be at twenty-one
GILLIATT had never spoken to Deruchette; minutes past three, the half-ebb at a quarter past
he knew her from having seen her at a distance, seven, low-water at thirty-three minutes past
as men know the morning star.             nine, and half-flood at thirty-nine minutes past
At the period when Deruchette had met Gil- twelve. He recalled, in their most trifling deliatt on the road leading from St. Peter's Port tails, the costume of the Highlander who had
to Valle, and had surprised him by tracing his sold him the bagpipe: his bonnet with a thistle
name in the snow, she was just sixteen years of ornament, his claymore, his close-fitting short
age. Only the evening before Mess Lethierry jacket, his kilt and philabeg ornamented, with
had said to her, "Come, no more childish tricks; a pocket and his snuff-horn, his pin set with a
you are a great girl."                    Scottish stone, his two girdles, his sash and
That word, "Gilliatt," written by the young belts, his sword, cutlass, dirk, and skene-dhu;
maiden, had sunk into an unfathomed depth.  his black-sheathed knife with its black handle
What were women to Gilliatt? He could not ornamented with two cairngorms, and the bare
have answered that question himself. When knees of the soldier; his socks, gaiters, and
he met one he generally inspired her with some- buckled shoes. This highly-equipped figure bething of the timidity which he felt himself; he came a spectre in his imagination, which purnever spoke to a woman except from urgent ne- sued him with a sense offeverishness as he sunk
cessity. He had never played the part of a "gal- into oblivion. When he awoke it was full daylant" to any one of the country girls. When light, and his first thought was of Ddruchette.
he found himself alone on the road, and per-  The next night he slept more soundly, but
ceived a woman coming towards him, he would he was dreaming again of the Scottish soldier.
climb over a fence or bury himself in some copse; In the midst of his sleep he remembered that
he even avoided old women. Once in his life the after-Christmas sittings of the Chief Law
he had seen a Parisian lady. A Parisienne on Court would commence on the 21st of January.
the wing was a strange event in Guernsey at He dreamed also about the Reverend Jaquemin
that distant epoch; and Gilliatt had heard this Hero'de. He thought of Deruchette, and seemgentle lady relate her little troubles in these ed to be in violent anger with her; he wished
words: "I am very much annoyed; I have got he had been a child again to throw stones at her
some spots of rain upon my bonnet. Pale buff windows; then he thought that if he were a
is a shocking colour for rain."  Having found, child again he should have his mother by his
some time afterwards, between the leaves of a side, and he began to sob.
book, an old engraving representing " a lady of  Gilliatt had a project at this time of going to
the Chaussde d'Antin" in full dress, he had stuck pass three months at Chousey, or at the Miriit against the wall at home as a souvenir of this quiers; but he did not go.
remarkable apparition.                      He walked no more along the road to St. PeOn that Christmas morning when he had met ter's Port.
Deruchette, and when she had written his name  He had an odd fancy that his name of " Giland disappeared laughing, he returned home liatt" hadremainedthere tracedupon the ground,
scarcely conscious of why he had gone out. and that the passers-by had stopped there to
That night he slept little: he was dreaming of a read it.
thousand things-that it would be well to cultivate black radishes in the garden; that he had
not seen the boat from Sark pass by; had any-                I
thing happened to it? Then he remembered
THE UNKNOWN WORLD UJNFOLDS ITSELF B1
that he had seen the white stonecrop in flower,  T NOWN W   LD UNFOLDS ITSELF 
a rare thing at that season. He had never                 DEGREES.
known exactly who was the woman who had     ON the other hand, Gilliatt had the satisfacreared him, and he made up his mind that she tion of seeing the Bravees every day. By some
must have been his mother, and thought of her accident he was always passing that way. His
with redoubled tenderness. He called to mind business seemed always to lead him by the path
the lady's clothing in the old leathern trunk. which passed under the wall of Deruchette's
He thought that the Reverend Jaquemin Herode garden.
would probably one day or other be appointed  One morning, as he was walking along this
Dean of St. Peter's Port and Surrogate of the path, he heard a market-woman who was returnBishop, and that the rectory of St. Sampson ing from the Brave3s say to another, "Mess
would become vacant. Next he remembered Lethierry is fond of sea-kale."




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               33
He dug in his garden of the Bu de la Rue a  Gilliatt figured her in his imagination from
trench for sea-kale. The sea-kale is a vegetable this choice of odours. With each perfume he
which has a flavour like asparagus.       associated some perfection.
The wall of the garden of the Bravees was  The very idea of speaking to Deruchette
very low; it would have been easy to scale it. would have made his hair stand on end. A
The idea of scaling it would have appeared to poor old rag-picker, whose wandering brought
him terrible. But there was nothing to hinder her from time to time into the little road leadhis hearing, as any one elssmight, the voices ing under the enclosure of the Bravees, had ocof persons talking as he passed, in the rooms or casionally remarked Gilliatt's assiduity beside
in the garden. He did not listen, but he heard the wall, and his devotion for this retired spot.
them. Once he could distinguish the voices of Did she connect the presence of a man before
the two servants, Grace and Douce, disputing. this wall with the possibility of a woman beIt was a sound which belonged to the house, and hind it? Did she perceive that vague, invisible
their quarrel remained in his ears like the re- thread?  Was she, in her decrepit mendicancy,
membrance of music.                        still youthful enough to remember something of
On another occasion, he distinguished a voice the old happier days? And could she, in this
which was different, and which seemed to him  dark night and winter of her wretched life, still
to be the voice of Deruchette. He quickened recognize the dawn?  We know not; but it
his pace, and was soon out of hearing,     appears that, on one occasion, passing near GilThe words uttered by that voice, however, liatt at his post, she brought to bear upon him
remained fixed in his memory. He repeated something as like a smile as she was still cathem at every instant. They were, "Will you pable of, and muttered between her teeth, "It
please give me the little broom?"         warms one."
By degrees he became bolder. He had the    Gilliatt heard the words, and was struck by
daring to stay awhile. One day it happened them.  "It warms one," he muttered, with an
that Deruchette was'singing at her piano, alto- inward note of interrogation.  "It warms one."
gether invisible from without, although her win- What did the old woman mean?
dow was open. The air was that of "Bonny     He repeated the phrase mechanically all day,
Dundee."  He grew pale, but he screwed his but he could not guess its meaning.
courage to the point of listening.
Springtide came. One day Gilliatt enjoyed
a beatific vision.  The heavens were opened,
and there before his eyes appeared Deruchette,               III.
watering lettuces in her little garden.
Soon afterwards he took to doing more than  TE A    ONNY      EE   I     AN EC
merely listening there. He watched her habits,           ON THE HILL.
observed her hours, and waited to catch a glimpse  IT was in a spot behind the enclosure of the
of her.                                   garden of the Bravees, at an angle of the wall,
In all this he was very careful not to be seen. half concealed with holly and ivy, and covered
The year advanced; the time came when the with nettles, wild bush-mallow, and large white
trellises were heavy with roses, and haunted by mullen growing between the blocks of stone,
the butterflies. By little and little, he had that he passed the greater part of that summer.
come to conceal himself for hours behind the He watched there, lost in deep thought. The
wall, motionless and silent, seen by no one, and lizards grew accustomed to his presence, %nd
holding his breath as Deruchette passed in and basked in the sun among the same stones. The
out of her garden. Men grow accustomed to summer was bright and full of dreamy indopoison by degrees.                        lence: overhead the light clouds came and went.
From his hiding-place he could often hear Gilliatt sat upon the grass. The air was full
the sound of Deruchette conversing with Mess of the songs of birds. He held his two hands
Lethierry under a thick arch of leaves, in a up to his forehead, sometimes trying to recollect
spot where there was a garden-seat. The words himself: "Why should she write my name in
came distinctly to his ears.              the snow?   From a distance the sea breeze
What a change had come over him! He came up in gentle breaths, at intervals the horn
had even descended to watch and listen. Alas! of the quarrymen sounded abruptly, warning
there is something of the character of a spy in passers-by to take shelter, as they shattered
every human heart.                        some mass with gunpowder. The Port of St.
There was another garden-seat, visible to Sampson was not visible from this place, but he
him, and nearer. Deruchette would sit there could see the tips of masts above the trees. The
sometimes.                                sea-gulls flew wide and afar. Gilliatt had heard
From the flowers that he had observed her his mother say that women could love men;
gathering he had guessed her taste in the mat- that such things happened sometimes. He reter of perfumes. The scent of the bindweed was membered it; and said within himself, "Who
her favourite; then the pink; then the honey- knows, may not Deruchette love me?"  Then
suckle; then the jasmine. The rose stood only a feeling of sadness would come upon him; he
fifth in the scale. She looked at the lilies, but would say, "She, too, thinks of me in her turn.
did not smell them.                       It is well." He remembered that Deruchette
C




34                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
was rich, and that he was poor: and then the low got to pipe about? He is in love with Denew boat appeared to him an execrable inven- ruchette, that is clear.'You waste your time,
tion. He could never remember what day of young man. Any one who wants Deruchette
the month it was. He would stare listlessly at must come to me, and not loiter about playing
the great black drones, with their yellow bodies the flute."
and their short wings, as they entered with a  An event of importance, long foreseen, ocbuzzing noise into the holes in the wall.  curred soon afterwards.  It was announced
One evening Deruchette went in-doors to that the Reverend Jaquemin Herode was apretire to bed. She approached her window to pointed Surrogate of the Bishop of Winchesclose it. The night was dark. Suddenly some- ter, Dean of the island, and Rector of St. Pething caught her ear, and she listened. Some- ter's Port, and that he would leave St. Sampwhere in the darkness there was a sound of son for St. Peter's immediately after his sucmusic. Ittwas some one, perhaps, on the hill- cessor should be installed.
side, or at the foot of the towers of Vale Castle,  It could not be long to the arrival of the new
or, perhaps, further still, playing an air upon rector. He was a gentleman of Norman exsome instrument. Deruchette recognised her traction, one Monsieur Joe Ebenezer Caudray
favourite melody, "Bonny Dundee," played -in English, Cawdry.
upon the bagpipe.  She thought little of it.  Some facts were known about the new recFrom that night the music might be heard tor, which the benevolent and malevolent interagain from time to time at the same hours, preted in a contrary sense. He was known to
particularly when the nights were very dark.  be young and poor, but his youth was tempered
Deruchette was not much pleased with all with much learning, and his poverty by good
this.                                     expectations. In the dialect specially invented
for the subject of riches and inheritances, death
goes by the name of " expectations." He was
IV.                    the nephew and heir of the aged and opulent
" A serenade by night may please a lady fair,  Dean of St. Asaph. At the death of this old
But of uncle and of guardian let the Troubadour beware." gentleman he would be a rich man. M. EbenUnpulished Comedy.  ezer Caudlray had distinguished relations. He
FOUR years passed away.                 was almost entitled to the quality of " HonourDeruchette was approaching her twenty- able." As regarded his doctrine, people judged
first year, and was still unmarried.  Some differently. He was an Anglican, but, accordwriter has said that a fixed idea is a sort of ing to the expression of Bishop Tillotson, a
gimlet; every year gives it another turn. To  "libertine"-that is, one who was very severe.
pull it out the first year is like plucking out He repudiated all pharisaism. He was a friend
the hair by the roots; in the second year, like rather of the Presbytery than the Episcopacy.
tearing the skin; in the third, like breaking the He dreamed of the Primitive Church of the
bones; and in the fourth, like removing the very days when even Adam had the right to choose
brain itself.                             his Eve, and when Frumartinus, Bishop of HierGilliatt had arrived at this fourth stage.  apolis, carried off a young maiden to make her
He had never yet spoken a word to Deru- his wife, and said to her parents, "Her will is
chette. He lived and dreamed near that de- such, and such is mine. You are no longer her
lightful vision. This was all.            mother, and you are no longer her father. I
It happened one day that, finding himself am the Bishop of Hierapolis, and this is my
by chance at St. Sampson, he had seen Deru- wife. Her father is in Heaven." If the comchette talking with Mess Lethierry at the door mon belief could be trusted, M. Ebenezer Cauof the Bravees, which opens upon the roadway dray subordinated the text, "Honour thy father
of the port. Gilliatt ventured to approach very and thy mother," to that other text, in his eyes
near, He fancied that at the very moment of of higher significance, "The woman is the flesh
his passing she had smiled. There was noth- of the man. She shall leave her father and
ing impossible in that.                   mother to follow her husband."  This tendenDeruchette still heard, from time to time, cy, however, to circumscribe the parental authe sound of the bagpipe.                 thority and to favour religiously all modes of
Mess Lethierry had also heard this bagpipe. forming the conjugal tie, is peculiar to all ProtBy degrees he had come to remark this perse- estantism, particularly in England, and singuvering musician under Deruchette's window. larly so in America.
A tender strain, too; all the more suspicious.
A nocturnal gallant was a thing not to his 
taste. His wish was to marry Deruchette in
his own time, when she was willing and he was                V.
willing, purely and simply, without any ro-      SEVED             S ALWAS ITS
A DESERVED SUCCESS HAS ALWAYS ITS
mance, or music, or anything of that sort. IrDETRACTORS.
ritated at it, he had at last kept a watch, and
he fancied that he had detected Gilliatt. He  AT this period the affairs of Mess Lethierry
passed his fingers through his beard-a sign of were- in this position: The Durande had well
anger-and grumbled out, "What has that fel- fulfilled all his expectations. He had paid his




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 35
debts, repaired his misfortunes, discharged his begin to watch for vessels in distress. The sea
obligations at Breme, met his acceptances at is then like a cut-throat in ambush for his vicSaint Malo.  He had paid off the mortgage tim. An invisible trumpet sounds the alarm
upon his house at the Bravees, and had bought of war with the elements, furious blasts spring
up all the little local rent-charges upon the up from the horizon, and a terrible wind soon
property.  He was also the proprietor of a begins to blow. The dark night whistles and
great productive capital.  This was the Du- howls. In the depth of the clouds the black
rande herself. The net revenue from the boat tempest distends its cheeks, and the storm arises.
was about a thousand pounds sterling per an-  The wind is one danger, the fogs are another.
num, and the traffic was constantly increasing.  Fogs have from all time been the terror of
Strictly speaking, the Durande constituted his mariners. In certain fogs microscopic prisms
entire fortune.  She was also the fortune of of ice are found in suspension, to which Marithe island. The carriage of cattle being one otte attributes halos, mock suns, and paraseof the most profitable portions of her trade, he lenes. Storm-fogs are of a composite charachad been obliged, in order to facilitate the ter; various gases of unequal specific gravity
stowage, and the embarking and disembarking combine with the vapour of water, and arrange
of animals, to do away with the luggage-boxes themselves, layer over layer, in an order which
and the two boats. It was, perhaps, impru- divides the dense mist into zones  Below ranges
dent. The Durande had but one boat-name- the iodine; above the iodine is the sulphur;
ly, her long-boat; but this was an excellent one. above the sulphur the brome; above the brome
Ten years had elapsed since Rantaine's rob- the phosphorus. This, in a certain manner,
bery.                                      and making allowance for electric and magnetic
This prosperity of the Durande had its weak tension, explains several phenomena, as the St.
point. It inspired no confidence. People re- Elmo fire of Columbus and Magellan, the flygarded it as a risk. Lethierry's good fortune ing stars moving about the ships of which Senwas looked upon as exceptional. He was con- eca speaks; the two flames, Castor and Polsidered to have gained by a lucky rashness. lux, mentioned by Plutarch; the Roman legion
Some one in the Isle of Wight who had imi- whose spears appeared to Caesar to take fire;
tated him had not succeeded. The enterprise the peak of the Chateau of Duino, in Friuli,
had ruined the shareholders. The engines, in which the sentinel made to sparkle by touching
fact, were badly constructed. But people shook it with his lance; and perhaps even those fultheir heads. Innovations have always to con- gurations from the earth which the ancients
tend with the difficulty that few wish them well. called Satan's terrestrial lightnings. At the
The least false step compromises them.      equator, an immense mist seems permanently
One of the commercial oracles of the Chan- to encircle the globe. It is known as the cloudnel Islands, a certain banker from Paris, named ring; the function of the cloud-ring is to temJange, being consulted upon a steam-boat spec- per the heat ofthe tropics, as that of the Gulf
ulation, was reported to have turned his back, Stream is to mitigate the coldness of the Pole.
with the remark, " An investment is it you pro- Under the cloud-ring fogs are fatal. These are
pose to me?  Yes; an investment in smoke."  what are called the horse latitudes.  It was'here
On the other hand, the sailing vessels had no that navigators of bygone ages were accustomed
difficulty in finding capitalists to take shares in to cast their horses into the sea to lighten the
a venture. Capital, in fact, was obstinately in ship in stormy weather, and to economize the
favour of sails, and as obstinately against boil- fresh water when becalmed. Columbus said,
ers and paddle-wheels. At Guernsey, the Du-'Nube abaxo ex muerte" —-death lurks in the
rande was, indeed, a fact, but steam was not low cloud. The Etruscans, who bear the same
yet an established principle.  Such is the fa- relation to meteorology which the Chaldeans
natical spirit of conservatism in opposition to did to astronomy, had two high-priests-the
progress. They said of Lethierry, "'It is all high-priest of the thunder, and the high-priest
very well, but he could not do it a second time." of the clouds. The "' fulgurators" observed the
Far from  encouraging, his example inspired lightning, and the weather-sages watched the
timidity. Nobody would have dared to risk mists. The college of Priest-Augurs was conanother Durande.                           suited by the Syrians, the Phoenicians, the Pelasgi, and all the primitive navigators of the
S-I —  -— a      ancient nare Interumi. The origin of tempests
was from that time forward partially underVI.                     stood. It is intimately connected with the genCHANCE OF FINDING THE SLOOP.          eration of fogs, and is, properly speaking, the
same phenomenon. There exist upon the ocean
THE equinoctial gales began early in the three regions of fogs-one equatorial, and two
Channel. The sea there is narrow, and the polar.   The mariners give them but one name,
winds disturb it easily.  The westerly gales thepitch-pot.
begin from the month of February, and the     In all latitudes, and particularly in the Chanwaves are beaten about from  every quarter. nel, the equinoctial fogs are dangerous. They
Navigation becomes an anxious matter. The shed a sudden darkness over the sea. One of
people on the coasts look to the signal-post, and the perils of fogs, even when not very dense,




36                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
arises from their preventing the mariners per-  The man aroused, and muttered,
ceiving the change of the bed of the sea by the  "I was looking about."
variations of the colour of the water. The re-  He was now completely awake, and consult is a dangerous concealment of the approach tinued:
of sands and breakers. The vessel steers to-  "I have just arrived in this part. I came
wards the shoals without receiving any warn- this way on a pleasure trip. I have passed the
ing. Frequently the fogs leave a ship no re- night on the sea: the view from here seemed
source except to lie-to or to cast anchor. There beautiful. I was weary, and fell asleep."
are as many shipwrecks from the fogs as from  "Ten minutes later, and you would have
the winds.                                been drowned."
After a very violent squall succeeding one of  "Pshaw!"
these foggy days, the mail-boat Cashmere ar-  "Jump into my bark!"
rived safely from England. It entered at St.  Gilliatt kept the bark fast with his foot,
Peter's Port as the first gleam of day appeared clutched the rock with one hand, and stretched
upon the sea, and at the very moment when the out the other to the stranger in black, who
cannon of Castle Cornet announced the break sprang quickly into the boat. He was a fine
of doy. f The sky had cleared; the sloop Cash- young man.
mere was anxiously expected, as she was to   Gilliatt seized the tiller, and in two minutes
bring the new rector of St. Sampson.       his boat entered the bay of the Bu de la Rue.
A little after the arrival of the sloop, a ru-  The young man wore a round hat and a
mour ran through the town that she had been white cravat; and his long black frock-coat was
hailed during the night at sea by a long-boat buttoned up to the neck. He had fair hair,
containing a shipwrecked crew.            which he wore en couronne. He had a somewhat feminine cast of features, a bright eye, a
~ — -i grave manner.
Meanwhile the boat had touched the ground.
VII.                    Gilliatt passed the cable through the mooringring, then turned and perceived the young man
HOW AN IDLER HAD THE GOOD FORTUNE TO BE         g o  asovereign in a very white hand.
holding out a sovereign in a very white hand.
SEEN BY A FISHERMAN.. 
Gilliatt moved the hand gently away.
ON that very night, at the moment when the  There was a pause. The young man was the
wind abated, Gilliatt had gone out with his nets, first to break the silence.
without, however, taking his famous old Dutch  "You have saved my life."
boat too far from the coast.                 "Perhaps," replied Gilliatt.
As he was returning with the rising tide, to-  The moorings were made fast, and they went
wards two o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was ashore.
shining brightly, and he passed before the  The stranger continued:
Beast's Horn to reach the little bay of the Buf  "I owe you my life, sir."
de la Rue. At that moment he fancied that he  "No matter."
saw in the projection of the "Gild-holm-'Ur"  This reply from Gilliatt was again followed
seat a shadow which was not that of the rock. by a pause.
He steered his vessel nearer, and was able to  "Do you belong to this parish?"
perceive a man sitting in the "Gild-holm-'Ur."  "No," replied Gilliatt.
The sea was already very high-the rock en-   "To what parish, then?"
circled by the waves-and escape entirely cut  Gilliatt lifted up his right hand, pointed to
off.  Gilliatt made signs to the man.  The the sky, and said,
stranger remained motionless. Gilliatt drew  " To that yonder."
nearer; the man was asleep.                 The young man bowed, and left him.
He was attired in black.  " He looks like a  After walking a few paces, the stranger stoppriest," thought Gilliatt. He.approached still ped, felt in his pocket, drew out a book, and renearer, and could distinguish the face of a young turning towards Gilliatt, offered it to him.
man.                                         "Permit me to make you a present of this."
The features were unknown to him.         Gilliatt took the volume: it was a Bible.
The rock, happily, was peaked; there was a  An instant after, Gilliatt, leaning upon the
good depth. Gilliatt wore off, and succeeded parapet, was following the young man with his
in skirting the rocky wall. The tide raised the eyes as he turned the angle of the path which
bark so high that Gilliatt, by standing upon the led to St. Sampson.
gunwale of the sloop, could touch the man's  Bylittle and little he lowered his gaze, forgot
feet. He raised himself upon the planking, and all about the stranger-knew no more whether
stretched out his hands. If he had fallen at the " Gild-holm-'Ur" existed. Everything disthat moment, it is doubtful if he would have appeared before him in the -bottomless depth of
risen again on the water; the waves were roll- a reverie.
ing in between the boat and the rock, and de-  There was one abyss which swallowed up all
struction would have been inevitable. He pull- his thoughts. This was Deruchette.
ed the foot of the sleeping man.  "Ho! there.  A voice calling him aroused him from this
What are you doing in this place!"        dream.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                37' Ho, there! Gilliatt!"                    "At the Bravees."
He recognised the voice and looked up.     "What is it?"
"What is the matter, Sieur Landoys?"      "I am too far off to tell you the story."
It was, in fact, Sieur Landoys, who was pass-  Gilliatt shuddered.
ing along the road about one hundred paces'Is Miss Deruchette going to be married?"
from the Bf de la Rue in his phaeton, drawn  "No; but she had better look out for a husby one little horse. He had stopped to hail band."
Gilliatt, but he seemed hurried.             "What do you mean?"
"There is news, Gilliatt."                 "Go up to the house, and you will learn."
"Where is that?"                          And Sieur Landoys whipped on his horse.
BOOK V.
THE REVOLVER.
I.                     picked up a pin without making inquiries for
CONVERSATIONS AT THE  EAN AUBERGE. the owner. He would send round the towncrier about a box of matches.  One day he
SIEUR CLUBIN was a man who bided his time. went into a wine-shop at St. Servan, and said
He was short in stature, and his complexion was to the man who kept it, "Three years ago I
yellow. He had the strength of a bull. His breakfasted here; you made a mistake in the
sea life had not tanned his skin; his flesh had a bill," and he returned the man thirteen sous.
sallow hue; it was the colour of a wax candle, He was the very personification of probity, with
of which his eyes, too, had something of the a certain compression of the lips indicative of
steady light. His memory was peculiarly re- watchfulness.
tentive. Witl him, to have seen a man once,  He seemed, indeed, always on the watch-for
was to have him like a note in a note-book. rogues, probably.
His quiet glance took possession of you. The  Every Tuesday he commanded the Durande
pupil of his eye received the impression of a on her passage from Guernsey to St. Malo.  He
face, and kept it like a portrait.  The face arrived at St. Malo on the Tuesday evening,
might grow old, but Sieur Clubin never lost it; stayed two days there to discharge and take in
it was impossible to cheat that tenacious memo- a new cargo, and started again for Guernsey on
ry. Sieur Clubin was curt in speech, grave in Friday morning.
manner, bold in action. No gestures were ever  There was at that period at St. Malo a little
indulged in by him. An air of candour won tavern near the harbour, which was called the
everybody to him at first; many people thought "Jean Auberge."
him artless. He had a wrinkle in the corner of  The construction of the modern quays swept
his eye, astonishingly expressive of simplicity. away this house. At this period, the sea came
As we have said, no abler mariner existed; no up as far as the St. Vincent and Dinan gates.
one like him for reefing a sail, for keeping a St. Merlin and St. Servan communicated with
vessel's head to the wind, or the sails well set. each other by covered carts and other vehicles,
Never did reputation for religion and integrity which passed to and fro among vessels lying
stand higher than his. To have suspected him  high and dry, avoiding the buoys, the anchors,
would have been to bring yourself under suspi and cables, and running the risk now and then
cion. He was on terms of intimacy with Mon- of smashing their leathern hoods against the
sieur Rdbuchet, a money-changer at St. Malo, lowered yards, or the bars of a jibboom. Bewho lived in the Rue St. Vincent, next door to tween the tides, the coachmen drove their horses
the armourer's; and Monsieur Rebuchet would over those sands where six hours afterwards the
say,' I would leave my shop in Clubin's hands." winds would be beating the rolling waves. The
Sieur Clubin was a widower; his wife, like four-and-twenty carrying dogs of St. Malo, who
himself, had enjoyed a high reputation for prob- tore to pieces a naval officer in 1770, were acity.  She had died with a fame for incorrupti- customed to prowl about this beach. This exble virtue. If the admiral had whispered gal- cess of zeal on their part led to the destruction
lant things in her ear, she would have impeach- of the pack. Their nocturnal barkings are no
ed him before the king. If a saint had made longer heard between the little and the great
love to her, she would have told it to the priest. Talard.
This couple, Sieur and Dame Clubin, had real-  Sieur Clubin was accustomed to stay at the
ized in Torteval the ideal of the English epithet Jean Auberge. The French office of the Du"respectable."  Dame Clubin's reputation was rande was held there.
as the snowy whiteness of the swan; Sieur    The custom-house officers and coast-guardClubin's like that of ermine itself-a spot would men came to take their meals and to drink at
have been fatal to him. He could hardly have the Jean Auberge. They had their separate




38                          THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
tables.  The custom-house officers of Birric " ining every kind of climate in its good and bad
found it convenient for the service to meet condition. He was profoundly versed in the
there with their brother officers of St. Malo.  pathology of the seasons.  Sometimes he would
Captains of vessels came there also; but they be heard delivering himself in this fashionate at another table.                       "The barometer descended in 1796 to three deSieur Clubin sat sometimes at one, sometimes grees below tempest point."  He was a sailor
at the other table, but preferred the table of the from real love of the sea. He hated England
custom-house men to that of the sea-captains. as much as he liked the ocean. He had careHe was always welcome at either.           fully studied English seamanship, and considThe tables were well served. There were ered himself to have discovered its weak point.
strange drinks specially provided for foreign He would explain how the " Sovereign" of 1637
sailors. A dandy sailor from Bilboa could have differed from the "Royal William" of 1670, and
been supplied there with a helada.  People from  the "Victory" of 1775. He compared
drank stout there, as at Greenwich, or brown their build as'to their forecastles and quartergueuse, as at Antwerp.                      decks. He looked back with regret to the towMasters of vessels who came from long voy- ers upon the deck, and the funnel-shaped tops
ages and privateersmen sometimes appeared at of the " Great Harry" of 1514-probably regardthe captains' table, where they exchanged news. ing them from the point of view of convenient
" How are sugars?  That commission is only lodging places for French cannon-balls. In his
for small lots.-The brown kinds, however, are eyes, nations only existed for their naval instigoing off. Three thousand bags of East India, tutions. He indulged in some odd figures of
and five hundred hogsheads of Sagua.-Take speech on this subject. He considered the term
my word, the opposition will end by defeating  "The Trinity House" as sufficiently indicating
Villele.-What about indigo?' Only seven ce- England.  The "Northern Commissioners"
roons of Guatemala changed hands.-The'Na- were in like manner synonymous in his mind
nine-Julia' is in the roads; a pretty three-mast- with Scotland; the "Ballast Board" with Ireer from Brittany.-The two cities of La Plata land. He was full of nautical information.
are at loggerheads again.-When Monte Video He was, in himself, a marine alphabet and algets fat, Buenos Ayres grows lean.-It has been manack, a tariff, and low-water mark all confound necessary to transfer the cargo of the bined. He knew' by heart all the lighthouse'Regina-Cceli,' which has been condemned at dues, particularly those of the English coast —
Callao.-Cocoas go off briskly.-Caraque bags one penny per ton for passing before this; one
are quoted at one hundred and thirty-four, and farthing before that. He would tell you that
Trinidad's at seventy-three.-It appears that at the Small Rock Light, which once used to burn
the review in the Champ de Mars, the people two hundred gallons of oil, now consumes fifteen
cried,'Down with the ministers!'-The raw  hundred.  Once, aboard ship, he was attacked
salt Saladeros hides are selling-ox-hides at by a dangerous disease, and was believed to be
sixty francs, and cows at forty-eight. —Have dying. The crew assembled round his hamthey passed the Balkan?-What is Diebitsch mock, and in the midst of his groans and agoabout?-Aniseed is in demand at San Francis- ny, he addressed the chief carpenter with the
co. Plagniol olive oil is quiet. —Gruyere cheese, words, "You had better make a mortice in each
in bulk, is thirty-two francs the quintal.-Well, side of the main caps, and put in a bit of iron to
is Leon XII. dead,"&c., &c.                 help pass the top ropes through. His habit of
All these things were talked about and com- command had given to his countenance an exmented on aloud. At the table of the custom- pression of authority.
house and coast-guard officers they spoke in a  It was rare that the subjects of conversation
lower key.                                  at the captains' table and at that of the customMatters of police and revenue on the coast 1iuse men were the same. This, however, did
and in the ports require, in fact, a little more happen to be the case in the first days of that
privacy, and a little less clearness in the con- month of February, to which the course of this
versation.                                  history has now brought us. The three-master
The sea-captains' table was presided over by "Tamaulipas," Captain Zuela, arrived from
an old captain of a large vessel, M. Gertrais-Ga- Chili and bound thither again, was the theme
boureau. M. Gertrais-Gaboureau could hardly of discussion at both tables.
be regarded as a man; he was rather a living  At the captains' table they were talking of
barometer.  His long life at sea had given him  her cargo; and at that of the custom-house peoa surprising power of prognosticating the state ple of certain circumstances connected with her
of the weather. He seemed to issue a decree recent proceedings.
for the weather to-morrow.  He sounded the    Captain Zuela, of Copiapo, was partly a Chilwinds, and felt the pulse, as it were, of the ian and partly'a Columbian. He had taken a
tides. He might be imagined requesting the part in the war of Independence in a truly indeclouds to show their tongue-that is to say, their pendent fashion, adhering sometimes to Bolivar,
forked lightnings. He was the physician of sometimes to Morillo, according as he had found
the wave, the breeze, and the squall. The it to his interest.  He had enriched himself by
ocean was his patient.  He had travelled round serving all causes. No man in the world could
the world like a doctor going his visits, exam- have been more Bourbonist, more Bonapartist,




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 39
more absolutist, more liberal, more atheistical, violates the conditions of his ticket-of-leave
or more devoutly catholic.  He belonged to comports himself before the police as innocently
that great and renowned party which may be as a saint; but imagine innocence constrained
called the Lucrative party. From time to time to act a part; virtue disguising its voice; a
he made his appearance in France on commer- glorious reputation hiding under a mask. Yoncial voyages; and if report spoke truly, he will- der passer-by is a man of well-earned celebrity;
ingly gave a passage to fugitives of any kind-  he is in quest of a false passport. The equivbankrupts or political refugees, it was all the ocal proceedings of one absconding from the
same to him, provided they could pay. His law is no proof that he is not a hero. Ephemmode of taking them aboard was simple. The eral but characteristic features of the time of
fugitive waited upon a lonely point of the coast, which our.so-called regular history takes no
and at the moment of setting sail Tuela would note, but which7 the true painter of the age will
detach a small boat to fetch him. On his last bring out into relief. Under cover of these
voyage he had assisted in this way an outlaw flights and concealments of honest men, genuand fugitive from justice, named Berton; and ine rogues, less watched and suspected, managed
on this occasion he was suspected of being often to get clear off. A scoundrel, who found
about to aid the flight of the men implicated in it convenient to disappear, would take advantthe affair of the Bidassoa. The police were in- age of the general pell-mell, tack himself on to
formed, and had their eye upon him.         the political refugees, and, thanks to his greater
This period was an epoch of flights and es- skill in the art, would contrive to appear in that
capes. The Restoration in France was a reac- dim twilight more honest even than his honest
tionary movement. Revolutions are fruitful of neighbours. Nothing looks more awkward and
voluntary exile, and restorations of wholesale confused sometimes than honesty unjustly conbanishments. During the first seven or eight demned. It is out of its element, and is almost
years which followed the return of the Bour- sure to commit itself.
bons, panic was universal —in finance, in indus-  It is a curious fact that this voluntary. expatry, in commerce, men felt the ground tremble triation, particularly with honest folks, appeared
beneath them. Bankruptcies were numerous in to lead to every strange turn of fortune. The
the commercial world; in the political, there modicum of civilization which a scamp brought
was a general rush to escape. Lavalette had with him from London or Paris became, pertaken flight, Lefebvre Desnouettes had taken haps, a valuable stock in trade in some primiflight, Delon had taken flight. Special tribu- tive country, ingratiated him with the people,.
nals were again in fashion. People instinct- and enabled him to strike into new paths.
ively shunned the esplanade de la Reole, the There is nothing impossible in a man's escapwalls of the Observatoire in Paris, the tower of ing thus fiom the laws, to reappear elsewhere
Taurias in Avignon-dismal landmarks in his- as a dignitary among the priesthood. There
tory where the period of reaction has left its was something phantasmagorial in these sudden
sign-spots, on which the marks of that blood- disappearances; and more than one such flight
stained hand are still visible. In London the has led to events like the marvels of a dream.
Thistlewood affair, with its ramifications in An escapade of this kind, indeed, seemed to end
France; in Paris the Trogoff trial, with its ram- naturally in the wild and wonderful; as when
ifications in Belgium, Switzerland, and Italy, some broken bankrupt suddenly decamps to
had increased the motives for anxiety and flight, turn up again twenty years later as Grand Vizand given an impetus to that mysterious rout ier to the Mogul or as a king in Tasmania.
which left so many gaps in the social system of  Rendering assistance to tiese fugitives was an
that day. To find a place of safety, this was established trade, and looking to the abundance
the general care. To be implicated was to be of business of that kind was a highly profitable
ruined. The spirit of the military tribunals one. It was generally carried on as a supplehad survived their institution. Sentences were mentary branch of certain recognised kinds of
matters of favour. - People fled to Texas, to commerce. A person, for instance, desiring to
the Rocky Mountains, to Peru, to Mexico. The escape to England, applied to the smugglers;
men of the Loire, traitors then, but now regard- one who desired to get to America had recourse,id as patriots, had founded the Ch/anap d'Asile. to sea-captains like Zuela.
Beranger in one of his songs says,
" Barbarians! we are Frenchmen born; 
Pity us, glorious, yet forlorn."
Self-banishment was the only resource left.                  II.
Nothing, perhaps, seems simpler than flight,
but that monosyllable has a terrible significance.CLUBIN OBSVE      SOME ONE.
Every obstacle is in the way of the man who   ZUELA came sometimes to take refreshment
slips away. Taking to flight necessitates dis- at the Jean Auberge. Clubin knew him by
guise. Persons of importance-even illustrious sight.
characters-were reduced to these expedients,  For that matter, Clubin was not proud. He
only fit for malefactors. Their -independent did not disdain even to know scamps by sight.
habits rendered it difficult for them to escape He even went so far sometimes as to cultivate
through the meshes of authority. A rogue who even a closer acquaintance with them; giving




40                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
his hand in the open street, or saying good-day  "Do you know what a revolver is?"
to them. He talked English with the smug-    "Yes," replied the gunsmith.  "It is an
glers, and jabbered Spanish with the contreban- American weapon."
distas.  On this subject he had at command a  "It is a pistol, with which a man can carry
number of apologetic phrases.  "Good," he on a conversation."
said, "can be extracted out of the knowledge  "Exactly; an instrument.which comprises
of evil. The gamekeeper may find advantage in itself both the question and the answer."
in knowing the poacher. The good pilot may   "And the rejoinder too."
sound the depths of a pirate, who is only a sort  "Precisely, Monsieur Clubin. A  rotatory
of hidden rock. I test the quality of a scoun- clump of barrels."
drel as a doctor will test a poison." There was  "I shall want five or six balls."
no answering a battery of proverbs like this.  The gunmaker twisted the corner of his lip,
Everybody gave Clubin credit for his shrewd- and made that peculiar noise with which, when
ness. People praised him for not indulging in accompanied by a toss of the head, Frenchmen
a ridiculous delicacy. Who, then, should dare express admiration.
to speak scandal of him on this point?  Every-  " The weapon is a good one, Monsieur Cluthing he did was evidently "for the good of the bin."
service.". With him all was straightforward.   I want a revolver with six barrels."
Nothing could stain his good fame. Crystal   "I have not one."
might more easily become sullied. This gen-    What! and you a gunmaker!"
eral confidence in him was the natural reward  "I do not keep such articles yet. You see,
of a long life of integrity, the crowning advant- it is a new thing. It is only just coming into
age of a settled reputation. Whatever Clubin vogue. French makers as yet confine themmight do, or appear to do, was sure to be inter- selves to the simple pistol."
preted favourably. He had attained almost to  "Nonsense."
a state of impeccability. Over and above this,  "It has not yet become an article of com"He is very wary," people said; and from a sit- merce."
uation which in others would have given rise to  "Nonsense, I say."
suspicion, his integrity would extricate itself  "I have excellent pistols."
with a still greater halo of reputation for abil- " I want a revolver."
ity. This reputation for ability mingled har-  "I agree that it is more useful. Stop, Monmoniously with his fame for perfect simplicity sieur Clubin!"
of character. Great simplicity and great tal-  "What?"
ents in conjunction are not uncommon. The    "I believe I know where there is one at this
compound constitutes one of the varieties of the moment in St. Malo-to be had a bargain."
virtuous man, and one of the most valuable.  "A revolver?"
Sieir Clubin was one of those men who might  "Yes."
be found in intimate conversation with a sharp-  "For sale?"
er or a thief, without suffering any diminution  "Yes."
of respect in the minds of their neighbours.  "Where is that?"
The "Tamaulipas" had completed her load-' "I believe I know; or I can find out."
ing. She was ready for sea, and was preparing  "When can you give me an answer?"
to sail very shortly.                        "A bargain; but good-"
One Tuesday evening the Durande arrived    "When shall I return?"
at St. Malo while it was still broad daylight.  "If I procure you a revolver, remember, it
Sieur Clubin, standing upon the bridge of the will be a good one."
vessel, and superintending the manceuvres nec-  "When will you give me an answer?"
essary for getting her into port, perceived upon  "After your next voyage."
the sandy beach, near the Petit-Bey, two men,  "Do not mention that it is for me," said
who were conversing between the rocks in a Clubin.
solitary spot. He observed them with his seaglass, and recognised one of the men. It was
Captain Zuela. IHe seemed to recognise the                    III.
other also.
This other was a person of high stature, a CL    CRIES AWY SO     THING   D  RINGS
little gray. He wore the broad-brimmed hat
and the sober clothing of the Society of Friends.  SIEUR CLUBIN completed the loading of the
He was probably a Quaker. He lowered his Durande, embarked a number of cattle and some
gaze with an air of extreme diffidence.    passengers, and left St. Malo for Guernsey as
On arriving at the Jean Auberge, Sieur Clu- usual on the Friday morning.
bin learned that the "Tamaulipas" was prepar-  On that same Friday, when the vessel had
ing to sail in about ten days.             gained the open, which permits the captain to
It has since become known that he obtained absent himself a moment from the place of cominformation on some other points.          mand, Clubin entered his cabin, shut himself in,
That night he entered the gunsmith's shop in took a travelling bag which he kept there, put
the St. Vincent Street, and said to the master, into one of its compartments some biscuit, some




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 41
boxes of preserves, a few pounds of chocolate in tain that the contraband trade, though hunted
sticks, a chronometer, and a sea telescope, and down by the law, was flourishing enough in cerpassed through the handles a cord, ready pre- tain financial circles. It had relations with
pared to sling it if necessary. Then he de- "the very best society."  Thus the brigand
scended into the hold, went into the compart- Mandrin in other days found himself occasionment where the cables are kept, and was seen ally hob-a-nob with the Count of Charolais; for
to come up again with one of those knotted this underhand trade often contrived to put on
ropes heavy with pieces of metal, which are a very respectable appearance-kept a house of
used for ship-caulkers at sea, and by robbers its own, with an irreproachable exterior.
ashore. Cords of this kind are useful in climb-  All this necessitated a host of manceuvres
ing.                                        and connivances, which required impenetrable
Having arrived at Guernsey, Clubin repaired secrecy. A contrabandist was intrusted with a
to Torteval. He took with him the travelling good many things, and knew how to keep them
bag and the knotted cord, but did not bring secret. An inviolable confidence was the conthem back again.                            dition of his existence. The first quality, in
Let us repeat, once for all, the Guernsey fact, in a smuggler, was strict honour in his own
which we are describing is that ancient Guern- circle. No discreetness, no smuggling. Fraud
sey which no longer exists, and of which it would had its secrets like the priest's confessional.
be impossible to find a parallel now any where  These secrets were, indeed, as a rule, faithful
exceptin the country. There it is still flourish- ly kept. The contrabandist swore to betray
ing, but in the towns it has passed away. The nothing, and he kept his word; nobody was
same remarks apply to Jersey.  St. Heliers is more trustworthy than the genuine smuggler.
as civilized as Dieppe, St. Peter's Port as L'Ori- The Judge Alcade of Oyarzun captured a smugent. Thanks to the progress of civilization, gler one day, and pult him to torture to compel
thanks, to the admirably enterprising spirit of him to disclose the name of the capitalist who
that brave island people, every thing has been secretly supported him. The smuggler refused
changed during the last forty years in the Nor- to tell. The capitalist in question was the
man archipelago. Where there was darkness Judge Alcade himself.    Of these two accomthere is now light. With these premises let us plices, the judge and the smuggler, the one had
proceed.                                    been compelled, in order to appear in the eyes
At that period, which is already so far re- of the world to fulfill the law, to put the other
moved from us as to have become historical, to the torture, which the other had patiently
smuggling was carried on very extensively in borne for the sake of his oath.
the Channel. The smuggling vessels abdund-    The two most famous smugglers who haunted
ed, particularly on the western coast of Guern- Pleinmont at that period were Blasco and Blassey. People of that peculiarly clever kind who quito. They were Tocayos. This was a sort
know, even in the smallest details, what went of Spanish or Catholic relationship which conon half a century ago, will even cite you the sisted in having the same patron saint in heaven;
names of these suspicious craft, which were al- a thing, it will be admitted, not less worthy of
most always Asturians or Guipuseans. It is consideration than having the same father upon
certain that a week scarcely ever passed with- earth.
out one or two being seen either in Saint's Bay  When a person was initiated into the furtive
or at Pleinmont. Their coming and going had ways of the contraband business, nothing was
almost the character of a regular service. A  more easy, or, from a certain point of view, more
cavern in the cliffs at Sark was called then, and troublesome. It was sufficient to have no fear
is still called, the " Shops," from its being the of dark nights, to repair to Pleinmont, and to
place where these smugglers made their bar- consult the oracle located there.
gains with the purchasers of their merchandise.
This sort of traffic had in the Channel a dialecto
of its own, a vocabulary of contraband technicalities now forgotten, and which was to the                    IV.
Spanish what the "Levantine" is to the Italian.            PLEINMONT.
On many parts of the English coast smuggling had a secret but cordial understanding  PLEINMONT, near Torteval, is one of the three
with legitimate and open commerce. It had corners of the island of Guernsey.  At the exaccess to the house of more than one great fin- tremity of the cape there rises a high turfy hill,
ancier-by the back stairs, it is true-and its in- which looks over the sea.
fluence extended itself mysteriously through all  The height is a lonely place - all the more
the commercial world, and the intricate ramifi- lonely from there being one solitary house there.
cations of manufacturing industry.  Merchant  This house adds. a sense of terror to that of
on one side, smuggler on the other-such was solitude.
the key to the secret of many great fortunes.  It is popularly believed to be haunted.
Seguin affirmed it of Bourgain, Bourgain of Se-  Haunted or not, its aspect is singular.
guin. We do not vouch for their accusations;  Built of granite, and rising only one story
it is possible that they were calumniating each high, it stands in the midst of the grassy soli9ther. However this may have been, it is cer- tude. It is in a perfectly good condition as far




42                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
as exterior is concerned; the walls are thick the scene of some great crime? You may aland the roof is sound. Not a stone is wanting most fancy that this spectral dwelling, given up
in the sides, not a tile upon the roof. A brick- to solitude and darkness, might be heard calling
built chimney-stack forms the angle of the roof. aloud for succour. Does it remain silent? Do
The building turns its back to the sea, being on voices indeed issue from it? What business
that side merely a blank wall. On examining has it on hand in this lonely place? The mysthis wall, however, attentively, the visitor per- tery of the dark hours rests securely here. Its
ceives a little window bricked up. The two ga- aspect is disquieting at noon-day; what must it
bles have three dormer windows, one fronting be at midnight? The dreamer asks himselfthe east, the others fronting the west, but all for dreams have their coherence- what this
three bricked up in like manner. The front, house may be between the dusk of evening and
which looks inward, has alone a door and win- the twilight of approaching dawn? Has the
dows. This door, too, is walled in, as are also vast supernatural world some relation with this
the two windows of the ground floor. On the deserted height, which sometimes compels it to
first floor-and this is the feature which is most arrest its movements here, and to descend and
striking as you approach-there are two open to become visible? Do the scattered elements
windows; but these are even more suspicious of the spirit world whirl around it? Does the
than the blind windows. Their open squares impalpable take form and substance here? Inlook dark even in broad day, for they have no soluble riddles! A holy awe is in the very
paries of glass, or even window-fiames. They stones; that dim twilight has surely relations
open simply upon the dusk within. They strike with the infinite Unknown. When the sun has
the imagination like hollow eye-sockets in a hu- gone down, the song of the birds will be hushed,
man face. Inside all is deserted. Through the the goatherd behind the rocks will go homeward
gaping casements you may mark the ruin within. with his goats; reptiles, taking courage from
No panellings, no woodwork; all bare stone. the gathering darkness, will creep through the
It is like a windowed sepulchre, giving liberty fissures of rocks; the stars will begin to appear,
to the spectres to look out upon the daylight night will come, and yonder two blank caseworld. The rains sap the foundations on the ments will still be staring at the sky. They
seaward side. A few nettles, shaken by the open to welcome spirits and apparitions; for it
breeze, flourish in the lower part of the walls. is by the names of apparitions, ghosts, phantom
Far around the horizon there is no other hu- faces vaguely distinct, masks in the lurid light,
man habitation. The house is a void-the abode mysterious movements of minds, and shadows,
of silence; but if you place your ear against that the popular faith, at once ignorant and prothe wall and listen, you may distinguish a con- found, translates the sombre relations of this
fused noise now and then, like the flutter of dwelling with the world of darkness.
wings. Over the walled door, upon the stone  The house is "haunted;" the popular phrase
which forms its architrave, are sculptured these comprises everything.
letters, "EL —PBILG," with the date "1780."  Credulous minds have their explanation,
The dark shadow of night and the mournful and common-sense thinkers have theirs also.
light of the moon find entrance there.    "Nothing is more simple," say the one, " than
The sea completely surrounds the house. Its the history of the house. It is an old observasituation is magnificent; but for that reason its tory of the time of the Revolutionary Wars and
aspect is more sinister. The beauty of the spot the days of smuggling. It was built for such
becomes a puzzle. Why does not a human fam- objects. The wars being ended, the house was
ily take up its abode here? The place is beau- abandoned; but it was not pulled down, as it
tiful, the house is good. Whence this neglect? might one day again become useful. The door
To these questions, obvious to the reason, sue- and windows have been walled up to prevent
ceed others, suggested by the reverie which the people entering, or doing injury to the interior.
place inspires. Why is this cultivatable gar- The walls of the windows, on the three sides
den uncultivated? No master for it; and the which face the sea, have been bricked up against
bricked-up doorway?.What has happened to the winds of the south and south-west. That
the place? Why is it shunned by men? What is all."
business is done here? If none, why is there  The ignorant and the credulous, however, are
no one here? Is it when all the rest of the not satisfied. In the first place, the house was
world are asleep, that some one in this spot is not built at the period of the wars of the Revawake?   Dark squalls, wild winds, birds of olutioh. It bears the date "1780," which was
prey, strange creatures, unknown forms, pre- anterior to the Revolution. In the next place,
sent themselves to the mind, and connect them- it was not built for an observatory. It bears
selves somehow with this deserted house. For the letters "ELM-PBILG," which are the double
what class of wayfarers is this the hostelry? monogram of two families, and which indicate,
You imagine to yourself whirlwinds of rain and according to usage, that the house was built for
hail beating in at the open casements, and wan- the use of a newly-married couple. Then it
dering through the rooms. Tempests have left has certainly been inhabited: why then should
their vague traces upon the interior walls. The it be abandoned? If the door and windows
chambers, though walled and covered in, are were bricked up to prevent people entering the
visited by the hurricanes. Has the house been house only, why were two windows left open?




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 43
Why are there no shutters, no window-frames, were seen toads crushed between the pages ofa
no glass? Why were the walls bricked in on Bible, bunches of yellow lupins, and other
one side, if not on the other? The wind is pre- strange offerings, placed there by imprudent
vented from entering from the,south; but why passers-by at night, who, having fancied that
is it allowed to enter fiom the north?     they.had seen something, hoped by these small
The credulous are wrong, no doubt; but it is sacrifices to obtain pardon, and to appease the
clear that the common-sense thinkers have. not ill-humours of were-wolves and evil spirits. In
discovered the key to the mystery. The prob- all times, believers of this kind have flourished;
lem remains still unsolved.                 some even in very high places. Caesar consultIt is certain that the house is generally be- ed Saganius, and Napoleon, Mademoiselle Lelieved to have been more useful than inconve- normand. There are a kind of consciences so
nient to the smugglers.                    tender that they must seek indulgencies even
The growth of superstitious terror tends to from Beelzebub. "May God do, and Satan not
deprive facts of their true proportions. With- undo," was one of the prayers of Charles the
out doubt, many of the nocturnal phenomena Fifth. They come to persuade themselves that
which have, by little and little, secured to the they may commit sins even against the Evil
building the reputation of being haunted, might One; and one of their cherished objects was
be explained by obscure and furtive visits, by to be irreproachable even in the eyes of Satan.
brief sojourns of sailors near the spdt, and We find here an explanation of those adorations
sometimes by the precaution, sometimes by the sometimes paid to infernal spirits. It is only
daring, of men engaged in certain suspicious one more species of fanaticism. Sins against
occupations concealing themselves for their dark the devil certainly exist in certain morbid imagpurposes, or allowing themselves to be seen in inations.  The fancy that they have violated
order to inspire dread.                    the laws of the lower regions torments certain
At this period, already a remote one, many eccentric casuists; they are haunted with scrudaring deeds were possible.  The police-par- ples even about offending the demons. A beticularly in small places-was by no means as lief in the efficacy of devotions to the spirits of
efficient as in these days.                the Brocken or Armuyr, a notion of having comAdd to this, that if the house was really, as mitted sins against Hell, visionary penances for
was said, a resort of the smugglers, their meet- imaginary crimes, avowals of the truth to the
ings there must, up to a certain point, have spirit of falsehood, self-accusation before the oribeen safe from interruption precisely because gin of all evil, and confessions in an inverted
the house was dreaded by the superstitious peo- sense, are allrealities, or things at least which
pie of the country. Its ghostly reputation pre- have existed. The annals of criminal procedure
vented its being visited for other reasons. Peo- against witchcraft and magic prove this in every
pie do not generally apply to the police, or of- page.  Human folly unhappily extends even
ficers of customs, on the subject of spectres. thus far: when terror seizes upon a man he
The superstitious rely on making the sign of does not stop easily. He dreams of imaginary
the cross; not on magistrates and indictments. faults, imaginary purifications, and clears out
There is always a tacit connivance, involuntary his conscience with the old witches' broom.
it may be,'but not the less real, between the  Be this as it may, if the house at Pleinmont
objects which inspire fear and their victims. had its secrets, it kept them to itself; except
The terror-stricken feel a. sort of culpability in by some rare chance, no one went there to see.
having encountered their terrors; they imagine It was left entirely alone. Few people, indeed,
themselves to have unveiled a secret; and they like to run the risk of an encounter with the
have an inward fear, unknown even to them- other world.
selves, of aggravating their guilt, and exciting  Owing to the terror which it inspired, and
the anger of the apparitions. All this makes which kept at a distance all who could observe
them discreet. And over and above this rea- or bear testimony on the subject, it had always
son, the very instinct of the credulous is si- been easy to obtain an entrance there at night
lence; dread is akin to dumbness; the terri- by means of a rope-ladder, or even by the use
fled speak little; horror seems always to whis- of the first ladder coming to hand in one of the
per "Hush!"                                neighbouring fields. A consignment of goods
It must be remembered that this was a pe- or provisions, left there, might await in perfect
riod when the Guernsey peasants believed that safety the time and opportunity for a furtive
the mystery of the Holy Manger is repeated by embarkation. Tradition relates that forty years
oxen and asses every year on a fixed day; a ago a fugitive-for political offences as some afperiod when no one would have dared to enter firm, for commercial as others say-remained
a stable at night for fear of coming upon the for some time concealed in the haunted house
animals on their knees.                    at Pleinmont, whence he. finally succeeded in
If the local legends and stories of the people embarking in a fishing-boat for England. From
can be credited, the popular superstition went England, a passage is easily obtainedto America.
so far as to fasten to the walls of the house at  Tradition also avers that provisions depositPleinmont things of which the traces are still ed in this house remain there untouched, Lucivisible, rats without feet, bats without wings, fer and the smugglers having an interest in inand bodies of other dead animals. Here, too, ducing whoever places them there to return.




44                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
4From the summit of this house there is a cleft-rocks overhanging the sea, the young
view to the south of the Hanway Rocks, at birds'-nesters abound. The reader will rememabout a mile from the shore.              ber that Gilliatt interfered in this matter for the
These rocks are famous. They have been sake of the birds as well as for the sake of the
guilty of all the evil deeds of which rocks arl children.
capable. They are the most ruthless destroy-  The "deniquoiseaux" are a sort of sea-urers of the sea. They lie in a treacherous am- chins, and are not a very timid species.
bush for vessels in the night.  They have con-  The night was very dark. Dense masses of
tributed to the enlargement of the cemeteries cloud obscured the zenith. Three o'clock had
at Torteval and Rocquaine.                sounded in the steeple of Torteval, which is
A lighthouse was erected upon these rocks round and pointed like a magician's hat.
in 1862.  At the present day, the Hanways   Why did the boys return so late? Nothing
light the way for the vessels which they once more simple. They had been searching for sealured to destruction; the destroyer in ambush gulls' nests in the Tas de Pois d'Aval. The
now bears a lighted torch in his hand; and season having been very mild, the pairing of
mariners seek in the horizon, as a protector and the birds had begun very early. The children,
a guide, the rock which they used to fly as a watching the fluttering of the male and female
pitiless enemy. It gives confidence by night in about their nests, and excited by the pursuit,
that vast space where it was so long a terror- had forgotten the time. The waters had crept
like a robber converted into a gendarme.  up around them; they had no time to regain
There are three Hanways-the Great Han- the little bay in which they had moored their
ways, the Little Hanways, and the Purple boat, and they were compelled to wait upon one
Hanways. It is upon the Little Hanways that of the peaks of the Tas de Pois for the ebb of
the Red Light is placed at the present time.  the tide. \ Hence their late return. Mothers
This reef of rocks forms part of a group of wait on such occasions in feverish anxiety for
peaks, some beneath the sea, some rising out the return of their children, and when they find
of it. It towers above them all; like a fortress, them safe, give vent to their joy in the shape of
it has advanced works: on the side of the open anger, and relieve their tears by dealing them a
sea, a chain of thirteen rocks; on the north, sound drubbing. The boys accordingly hastentwo breakers-the High Fourquies, the Needles, ed their steps, but in fear and trembling. Their
and a sand-bank called the Herouee.  On the haste was of that sort which is glad of an excuse
south, three rocks —the Cat Rock, the Percee, for stopping, and which is not inconsistent with
and the Herpin Rock; then two banks-the a reluctance to reach their destination; for
South Bank and the Muet; besides which, they had before them the prospect of warm emthere is, on the side opposite Pleinmont, the braces, to be followed with an inevitable thrashTas de Pois d'Aval.                      ing.
To swim across the channel from the Han-  One only of the boys had nothing of this to
ways to Pleinmont is difficult, but riot impossi- fear. He was an orphan: a French boy, withble. We have already said that this was one out father or mother, and perfectly content just
of the achievements of Clubin.  The expert then with his motherless condition; for nobody
swimmer who knows this channel can find two taking any interest in him, his back was safe
resting-places-the lEound Rock, and further from the dreaded blows. The two others were
on, a little out of the course, to the left, the natives of Guernsey, and belonged to the parish
Red Rock.                                 of Torteval.
_ --- o~ —— Having climbed the grassy hill, the three
birds'-nesters reached the table-land on which
V.                     was situate the haunted house.
THE BIRDS'-NESTERS.              They began by- being in fear, which is the
proper frame of mind of every passer-by, and
IT was near the period of that Saturday which particularly of every child at that hour and in
was passed by Sieur Clubin at Torteval that that place.
a curious incident occurred, which was little- They had a strong desire to take to their
known at the time, and which did not generally heels as fast as possible, and a strong desire,
transpire till a long time afterwards. For many also, to stay and look.
things, as we have already observed, remain un-  They did stop.
divulged, simply by reason of the terror which  They looked towards the solitary building.
they have caused in those who have witnessed  It was all dark and terrible.
them.                                       It stood in the midst of the solitary plain-an
In the night-time between Saturday and Sun- obscure block, a hideous but symmetrical exday-we are exact in the matter of the date, crescence; a high square, massed with rightand we believe it to be correct - three boys angled corners, something like an immense alclimbed up the hill at Pleinmont. The boys tar in the darkness.
returned to the village: they came from the  The first thought of the boys was to run: the
seashore. They were what are called, in the second was to draw nearer. They had never
corrupt French of that part, "deniquoiseaux," seen this house before. There is such a thing
or birds'-nesters. Wherever there are cliffs and as a desire to be frightened arising from curios



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               45
ity. They had a little French boy with them, wards a little isthmus of rocks almost inaccessiwhich emboldened them to approach.        ble. They had come pretty near to the buildIt is known that the French have no fear.  ing; but they saw only the southern side, which
Besides, it is reassurilng tohave combpaniv in was all walled up. They did not dare to apdanger; to be frightened in the company of two proach by the other side, where the terrible
others is encouraging.                    windows were.
And then they were a sort of hunters accus-  They grew bolder, however; the caulker's
tomed to peril. They were children; they were apprentice whispered, "Let's veer to starboard.
used to search, to rummage, to spy out hidden That's the handsome side. Let's have a look
things. They were in the habit of peeping into at the black windows."
holes; why not into this hole? Hunting is ex-  The little band accordingly "veered to starciting. Looking into birds'-nests perhaps gives board," and came round to the other side of
an itch for looking a little into a nest of ghosts. the house.
A rummage in the dark regions. Why not?     The two windows were lighted up.
From prey to prey, says the proverb, we come  The boys took to their heels.
to the devil. After the birds, the demons. The  When they had got to some distance, the
boys were on the way to learn the secret of those French boy, however, returned.
terrors of which their parents had told them.  "Hillo!" said he, "the lights have vanishTo be on the track of hobgoblin tales-nothing ed."
could be more attractive. To have long stories  The light at the windows had, indeed, disapto tell like the good housewives. The notion peared. The outline of the building was seen
was tempting.                             as sharply defined as if stamped out with a
All this mixture of ideas, in their state of punch against the livid sky.
half confusion, half instinct, in the minds of the  Their fear was not abated, but their curiosity
Guernsey birds'-nesters, finally screwed their had increased. The birds'-nesters approached.
courage to the point. They approached the   Suddenly the light reappeared at both winhouse.                                    dows at the same moment.
The little fellow who served them as a sort  The two young urchins from Torteval took
of moral support in the adventure was certain- to their heels, and vanished. The daring French
ly worthy of their confidence. He was a bold boy did not advance, but he kept his ground.
boy -an apprentice to a ship-caulker; one of  He remained motionless, confronting the
those children who have already become men. house, and watching it.
He slept on a little straw in a shed in the ship-  The light disappeared, and appeared again
caulker's yard, getting his own living, having once more. Nothing could be more horrible.
red hair, and a loud voice; climbing easily up The reflection made a vague streak of light upon
walls and trees, not encumbered with prejudices the grass, wet with'the night dew. All of a
in the, matter of property in, the apples within moment the light cast upon the walls of the
his reach; a lad who had worked.in the-repair- house two huge dark profiles, and the shadows
ing dock for vessels of war-a child of chance, of enormous heads.
a happy orphan, born in France, no one knew  The house, however, being without ceilings,
exactly where; ready to give a centime to a and having nothing left but its four walls and
beggar; a mischievous fellow, but a good one at roof, one window could not be lighted without
heart; one who had talked to Parisians. At the other.
this time he was earning a shilling a day by  Perceiving that the caulker's apprentice kept
caulking the fishermen's boats under repair at his ground, the other birds'-nesters returned,
the Pequeriet. When he felt inclined he gave step by step, and one after the other, trembling
himself a holiday, and went birds'- nesting. and curious. The caulker's apprentice whisSuch was the little French boy.           pered to them, "There are ghosts in the house.
The solitude of the place impressed them  I have seen the nose of one."  The two Tortewith a strange feeling of dread. They felt the val boys got behind their companion, standing
threatening aspect of the silent house. It was tiptoe against his shoulder; and thus sheltered,
wild and savage. The naked and deserted pla- and taking him for their shield, felt bolder, and
teau terminated in a precipice at a short dis- watched also.
tance from its steep incline. The sea below  The house, on its part, seemed also to be
was quiet. There was no wind. Not a blade watching them. There it stood in the midst
of grass stirred.                         of that vast darkness and silence, with its two
The birds'-nesters advanced by slow steps, the shining eyes. These were its upper windows.
French boy at their head, and looking towards The light vanished, reappeared, and vanished
the house.                                again, in the fashion of these unearthly illumiOne of them, afterwards relating the story, -nations.  These sinister intermissions have,
or as much of it as had remained in his head, probably, some connection with the opening
added, "It did not speak."                and shutting of the infernal regions. The airThey came nearer, holding their breath, as hole of a sepulchre has thus been seen to proone might approach a savage animal.       duce effects like those from a dark lantern.
They had climbed the little hill at the side  Suddenly a dark form, like that of a human
of the house which descended to seaward to- being, ascended to one of the windows, as if




46                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
from without, and plunged into the interior of shrink behind the heap of fagots, but they had
the house.                                already left it far behind; and their friend the
To enter by the window is the custom with caulker continued to advance towards the house.
spirits.                                  They trembled at remaining with him, but they
The light was for a moment more brilliant, dared not leave him.
then went out, and appeared no more. The    Step by step, and perplexed, they followed.
house became dark. The noises resembled The caulker's apprentice turned towards them
voices. This is always the case. When there and said,
is anything to be seen, it is silent. When all  "You know it isn't true. There are no such
becomes invisible again, noises are heard.  things."
There is a silence peculiar to night-time at  The house grew taller and taller. The voices
sea. The repose of darkness is deeper on the became more and more distinct.
water than on the land. When there is neither  They drew nearer.
wind nor wave in that wild expanse, over which,  And now they could perceive within the house
in ordinary time, even the flight of eagles makes something like a muffled light. It was a faint
no sound, the movement of a fly could be heard. glimmer, like one of those effects produced by
This sepulchral quiet gave a dismal relief to the dark lanterns, already referred to, and which are
noises which issued from the house.       common at the midnight meetings of witches.
"Let us look," said the French boy.       When they were close to the house they
And he made a step towards the house.   halted.
The others were so frightened that they re-  One of the two Torteval boys ventured on an
solved to follow him. They did not dare even observation:
to run away alone.                           "It isn't spirits: it is ladies dressed in white."
Just as they had passed a heap of fagots,  "What's that hanging from the window?"
which for some mysterious reason seemed to in- asked the other.
spire them with a little courage in that'solitude,' It looks like a rope."
a white owl flew towards them from a hush.   "It's a snake."
The owls have a suspicious sort of flight, a side-  "It is only cords hanging there," said the
long skim which is suggestive of mischief afloat. French boy, authoritatively.  "It is their way
The bird passed near the boys, fixing upon them  of getting up. But I don't believe in them."
its round eyes, bright amidst the darkness.  And in three bounds, rather than steps, he
A shudder ran through the group behind the found himself against the wall of the buildFrench boy.                               ing.
lIe looked up at the owl, and said,       The two otlers, trembling, imitated him, and
"Too late, my bird, I will look."       came pressing against him, one on his right side,
And he advanced.                        the other on his left. The boys applied their
The crackling sound made by his thick-nailed ears to the wall.'The sounds continued.
boots among the furze-bushes did. not prevent  The following was the conversation of the
his hearing the sounds in the house, which rose phantoms:
and fell with the continuousness and the calm
accent of a dialogue.                        "Asi entendido esta?"
A moment afterwards, the boy added,         Entendido."
"Besides, it is only fools who believe in  "Dicho?"
spirits.""cho
Insolence in the midst of danger rallies the  "Aqui esperara un hombre, y podra marcowardly, and inspirits them to go on.    charse en Inglterra con Blasquito."
The two Torteval lads resumed their march,  Pagando?"
quickening their steps behind the caulker's ap- "Pagando."
prentice.                                   "Blasquito tomara al hombre en su barca."
The haunted house seemed to them to grow   Sin buscar para conocer a su pais?"
larger before their eyes. This optical illusion  "No nos toca."
of fear is founded in reality. The house did "Ni a s nombre del hombre?
indeed grow larger, for they were coming nearer
to it.                                      "So that is understood?"
Meanwhile the voices in-the house took a  "Understood."
tone more and more distinct. The children   "As is said?"
listened. The ear, too, has its power of exag-  "As is said."
gerating. It was different from a murmur, more  "A man will wait here, and can accompany
than a whispering, less than an uproar. Now Blasquito to England."
and then one or two words, clearly articulated,  "Paying the expense?"
could be caught. These words, impossible to  "Paying the expense."
be understood, sounded strangely. The boys  "Blasquito will take the man in his barque
stopped and listened, then went forward again. without seeking to know what country he be"It is the ghosts talking, " said the caulker's longs to?"
apprentice; "but I don't believe in ghosts."  "That is no business of ours."
The Torteval boys were sorely tempted to  "Without asking his name?"




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                  47
"No se pide el nombre, pero se pesa la      "Vengo a un mes, y viene al otro mes."
bolsa."                                        "Entiendo."
"Bien: esperara el hombre en esa casa."     "A cuentar del otro sabado, desde hoy en
"Tenga que comer."                        ocho, no se pasaran cinco dias sin que venga el
"Tendra."                                 Blasquito."
"Onde?"                                    "Pero un muy male mar?"
"En este saco que he llevado."              "Egurraldia gaiztoa."
"Muy bien."                                 "Si."
"Puedo dexar el saco aqui?"                 "No vendria el Blasquito tan pronto, pero
"Los contrabandistas no son ladrones."    vendria."
"Y vosotros, cuando marchais?"             "Donde vendra?"
"Mariana por la maiana.   Si su hombre de   "De Vilvao."
usted parado, podria venir con nosotros."      "Onde ira?"
"Parado no esta."                           "En Portland."
"Hacienda suya."                            "Bien."
"Cuantos dias esperara alli?"              "Oen Tor Bay."
"Dos, tres, quatro dias; menos o mas."      "Mejor."
"Es cierto que el Blasquito vendra?"       "Su humbre de usted puede estarse quieto."
"Cierto."                                   " No traidor sera, el Blasquito?"
"En este Plainmont?"                        "Los cabardes son traidores.   Somos va"En este Plainmont."                     lientes. El mar es la iglesia del invierno.  La
"A qual semana?"                          traicion es la iglesia del infierno."
"La que viene."                             "No se entiende a lo que dicemos?"
"A qual dia?"                               "Escuchar a nosotros y mirar a nosotros es
"Viernes, o sabado, o domingo."          imposible.  La espanta hace alli el desierto."
"No puede faltar?"                         "Lo se."
"Es mi tocayo."                             "Quien se atravesaria a escuchar?"
"Por qualquiera tiempo viene?"              "Es verdad."
" Qualquiera. No tieme.  Soy el Blasco, es  "Y escucharian que no entiendrian. Hablael Blasquito."                              mos a una lengua fiera y nuestra que no se
Asi, no puede faltar de venir en Guerne- conoce. Despues que la sabeis, eries con nososey?"                                      tros."
"' We do not ask for names; we only feel the  "I come one month-he the other."
weight of the purse."                          "I understand."
"Good: the man shall wait in this house."   "Counting from   Saturday next, one week
"He must have provisions."               from to-day; five days cannot elapse without'"He will be furnished with them.'"       bringing Blasquito."
" How?"                                    " But if there is much sea?"
"From this bag which I have brought."        "Bad weather."
"Very good."                                "Yes."
"Can I leave this bag here?"               "Blasquito will not come so quickly, but he
" Smugglers are not robbers."             will come."
" And when do you go?"                      "Whence will he come?"
"To-morrow morning.    If your man was      "From Bilbao."
ready he could come with us."                  "Where will he be going?"
" He is not prepared."                        To Portland."
"That is his affair."                       "Good."
"How many days will he have to wait in this  "Or to Torbay."
house?"                                        "Better still."
"Two, three, or four days; more or less."   "Your man may rest easy."
" Is it certain that Blasquito will come?"  "Blasquito will betray nothing?"
"Certain."                                  "Cowards are the only traitors.  We are
Here to Pleinmont?"                     men ofcourage.  The sea is the winter church.
"To Pleinmont."                           Treason is the church of hell."
"When?"                                    "No one hears what we say?"
"Next week."                                "It is impossible to be seen or overheard.
"What day?"                               The people's fear of this spot makes it de"'Friday, Saturday, or Sunday."           serted."
"May he not fail?"                          "I know it."
" He is my Tocayo."                         "Who is there who would dare to listen here?"
"Will he come in any weather?"             "True."
"At any time.  He has no fear. My name      "Besides, if they listened, none would underis Blasco, his Blasquito."                  stand.  We speak a wild language of our own,
"So he cannot fail to come to Guern- which nobody knows hereabouts. As you know
sey?"                                      it, you are one of us."




48                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
" Soy venido para componer las haciendas   "Buenas tardes. Un golpe de aquardiente?"
con ustedes."                                "Gracias."
"Bueno."                                   "Es mejor que xarope."
"Y ahora me voy."                          "Tengo vuestra palabra."
"Mucho."                                   "Mi nombre es Pundonor."
"Digame usted, hombre.   Si el pasagero    "Sea usted con Dies."
quiere que el Blasquito le lleve en ninguna otra  "Ereis gentleman, y soy caballero."
parte que Portland o Tor Bay?"               "Good-night. A drop of brandy first?"
"Tenga onces."'Thank you"
"El Blasquito hara lo que querra el hombre?"  That is better than a syrup
"E1 Blasquito hace lo que quieren las onces."  "I have your word."
"Es menester mucho tiempo para ir en Tor   "My name is Point-of-Honour."
Bay?"                                       " *  Adieu."
"Como quiere el viento."
"Como uiere e viento."                     "You are a gentleman, I am a chevalier."
"Ocho horas?"
"Menos, o mas."                            It was clear that only devils could talk in this
"El Blasquito obedecera al pasagero?"   way. The children did not listen long. This
"Si le obedece el mar a el Blasquito."  time they took to flight in earnest; the French
"Bien pagado sera."                      boy, convinced at last, running even quicker
"El oro es el ore. El viento es el viento."  than the others.' Mucho."                                  On the Tuesday following this Saturday,
"El hombre hace lo que puede con el oro. Sieur Clubin returned to St. Male, bringing back
Dios con el viento hace lo que quiere."    the Durande.
"Aqui sera viernes el que desea marcharse  The "Tamaulipas" was still at anchor in the
con Blasquito."                            roads.
"Pues."                                    Sieur Clubin, between the whiffs of his pipe,
"A qual memento llega Blaquito?"       said to the landlord of the Jean Auberge,
"A la noche. Ala noche se llega, ala noche  "Well, and when does the'Tamaulipas' get
se marcha. Tenemos una muger quien se llama under way?"
la noche. La muger puede faltar, la hermana   "The day after to-morrow-Thursday," reno.':                                      plied the landlord.
"Todo dicho esta. Abour, hombres."         On that evening Clubin supped at the coastguard officers' table; and, contrary to his habit,
("I came only to make these arrangements went out after his supper. The consequence of
with you."                                 his absence was, that he could not attend to the
"Very good."                             office of the Durande, and thus lost a little in
"I must now take my leave."             the matter of freights. This fact was remarked
"Be it so."                             in a man ordinarily punctual.
"Tell me; suppose the passenger should wish  It appeared that he had chatted a few moBlasquito to take him anywhere else than to ments with his friend the money-changer.
Portland or Torbay?"                         He returned two hours after Noguette had
" Let him bring some gold coins."       sounded the Curfew bell. The Brazilian bell
"Will Blasquito consult the stranger's con- sounds at ten o'clock. It was therefore midvenience?"                                night.
"Blasquito will do whatever the gold coinscommand."
" Does it take long to go to Torbay?"                      VI.
"That is as it pleases the winds."                   THE JACRESSADE.
"Eight hours?"
"More or less."                            FORTY years ago, St. Malo possessed an alley
"Will Blasquito obey the passenger?"    known by the name of the "Ruelle Coutan"If the sea will obey Blasquito."       chez."  This alley no longer exists, having been
"He will be well rewarded."             removed for the improvements of the town.
"Gold is gold; and the sea is the sea."    It was a double row of houses, leaning one
"That is true."                         towards the other, and leaving between them
"Man with his gold does what he can. just room enough for a narrow rivulet, which
Heaven with its winds does what it will."  was called the street. By stretching the legs, it
"The man who is to accompany Blasquito was possible to walk on both sides of the little
will be here on Friday."                   stream, touching with head or elbows, as you
"Good."                                  went, the houses either on the right or the left.
"At what hour will Blasquito appear?"   These old relics of mediaeval Normandy have al"In the night. We arrive by night; and most a human interest. Tumble-down houses
sail by night. We have a wife who is called and sorcerers always go together. Their leanthe sea, and a sister called night. The wife be- ing stories, their overhanging walls, their bowed
trays sometimes, but the sister never."    penthouses, and their old thick-set irons, seem
"All is settled, then. Good-night, my men." like lips, chins, nose, and eyebrows. The gar



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 49
ret window is the blind eye. The wall is the  The Jacressade was rather a court-yard than
wrinkled and blotchy cheek.   The opposite a house; and more of a well than a court-yard.
houses lay their foreheads together as if they It had no stories looking on the street. Its fa.
were plotting some malicious deed. All those;ade was simply a high wall, with a low gatewords of ancient villainy-like cut-throat, slit- way. You raised the latch, pushed the gate,
weazand, and the like-are closely connected and were at once in the court-yard.
with architecture of this kind.               In the midst of this yard might be perceived
One of these houses in the alley-the largest a round hole, encircled with a margin of stones,
and the most famous or notorious-was known and even with the ground. The yard was small,
by the name of the Jacressade.              the well large. A broken pavement surroundThe Jacressade was a lodging-house for peo- ed it.
pie who do not lodge. In all towns, and partic-  The court-yard was square, and built round
ularly in sea-ports, there is always found beneath on three sides only.  On the side of the street
the lowest stratum of society a sort of residuum: was only the wall; facing you as you entered
vagabonds who are more than a match for jus- the gateway stood the house, the two wings of
tice; rovers after adventures; chemists of the which formed the sides to right and left.
swindling order, who are always dropping their  Any one entering there after nightfall, at his
lives' gain into the melting-pot; people in rags own risk and peril, would have heard a confused
of every shape, and in every style of wearing murmur of voices; and, if there had been moonthem; withered fruits of roguery; bankrupt ex- light or starlight enough to give shape to the
istences; consciences that have filed their sched- obscure forms before his eyes, this is what he
ule; gentlemen who have failed in the house- would have seen.
breaking business (for the great masters of bur-  The court-yard-the well. Around the courtglary move in a higher sphere); workmen and yard, in front of the gate, a lean-to or shed, in a
workwomen in the trade of wickedness; oddi- sort of horse-shoe form, but with square corners;
ties, male and female; men in coats out at el- a rotten gallery, with a roof of joists supported
bows; scoundrels reduced to indigence; rogues by stone pillars at unequal distances. In the
who have missed the wages of roguery; men centre, the well; around the well, upon a litter
who have been hit in the social duel; harpies of straw, a kind of circular chaplet, formed of
who have no longer any prey; petty lareeners; the soles of boots and shoes; some trodden down
gigeuex in the double and unhappy meaning of at heel, some showing the toes of the wearers,'that word. Such are the constituents of that some the naked heels. The feet of men, womliving mass. Human intelligence is here re- en, and children, all asleep.
duced to something bestial. It is the refuse of  Beyond these feet, the eye might have distinthe social state, heaped up in an obscure corner, guished, in the shadow of the shed, bodies, droopwhere from time to time descends that dreaded ing heads, forms stretched out lazily, bundles of
broom which is known by the name of police. rags of both sexes, a promiscuous assemblage, a
In St. Malo, Jacressade was the name of this strange and revolting mass of life. The accomcorner.                                     modation of this sleeping chamber was open to
It is not in dens of this sort that we find the all, at the rate of two sous a week. On a stormy
high-class criminals-the robbers, forgers, and night the rain fell upon the feet, the whirling
other great products of ignorance and poverty. snow settled on the bodies of those wretched
If murder is represented here, it is generally in sleepers.
the person of some coarse drunkard; in the    Who were these people?    The unknown.
matter of robbery, the company rarely rise high- They came there at night, and departed in the
er than the mere sharper. The vagrant is there, morning. Creatures of this kind form part of
but not the highwayman. It would not, how- the social fabric.  Some stole in during the
ever, be safe to trust this distinction. This last darkness, and paid nothing. The greater part
stage of vagabondage may have its extremes of had scarcely eaten during the day. All kinds
scoundrelism.  It was on an occasion, when of vice and baseness, every sort of moral infeccasting their nets into the Epi-scie —which was tion, every species of distress were theie.  The
in Paris what the Jacressade was in St. Malo-  same sleep settled down upon all in this bed of
that the police captured the notorious Lacenaire. filth. The dreams of all these companions in
These lurking-places refuse nobody. To fall misery went on side by side. A dismal meetin the social scale has a tendency to bring men ing-place, where misery and weakness, half-soto one level.  Sometimes honesty in tatters bered debauchery, weariness from long walking
found itself there.  Virtue and probity have to and fro, with evil thoughts, in quest of bread,
been known before now to be brought to strange pallor with closed eyelids, remorse, envy, lay
passes. We must not judge always by appear- mingled and festering in the same miasma, with
ances, even in the palace or at the galleys. faces that had the look of death, and dishevelled
Public respect, as well as universal reprobation, hair mixed with the filth and sweepings of the
require testing.  Surprising results sometimes streets.  Such was the putrid heap of life ferproceed from this principle. An angel may be menting in this dismal spot. An unlucky turn
discovered in the stews-a pearl in the dung- of the wheel of fortune, a ship arrived on the
hill.  Such sad and dazzling discoveries. are not day before, a discharge from prison, or the dark
altogether unknown.                         night, or some other chance, had cast them here,
D




50                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
to find a miserable shelter. Every day brought the door, or by a triangular hole between the
some new accumulation of such misery. Let joists of the partition. The fallen plaster of
him enter who would, sleep who could, speak the ceiling lay about the floor. It was difficult
who dared; for it was a place of whispers. The to say how the old house still stood erect. The
new-comers hastened to bury themselves in the high winds indeed shook it. The lodgers asmass, or tried to seek oblivion in sleep, since cended as they could by the worn and slippery
there was none in the darkness of the place. steps of the ladder. Everything was open to
They snatched what little of themselves they the air. The wintry atmosphere was absorbed
could from the jaws of death. They closed their into the house, like water into a sponge. The
eyes in that confusion of horrors which every multitude of spiders seemed to guarantee the
day renewed. They were the embodiment of place against falling to pieces immediately.
misery, cast up from society, as the scum is from  There was no sign of furniture. Two or three
the sea.                                  palliasses were in the corner, their ticking torn
It was not every one who could even get a in parts, and showing more dust than straw
share of the straw. More than one figure was within. Here and there were a water-pot and
stretched out naked upon the flags. They lay an earthen pipkin. A close, disagreeable odour
down worn out with weariness, and awoke haunted the rooms.
paralyzed. The well, without lid or parapet,  The windows looked out upon the square
and thirty feet in depth, gaped open night and yard. The scene was like the interior of a scavday. Rain fell around it; filth accumulated enger's cart. The things, not to speak of the
about, and the gutters of the yard ran down and human beings, which lay rusting, mouldering,
filtered through its sides. The pail for drawing and putrefying there, were indescribable. The
the water stood by the side. Those who were fragments seemed to fraternize together. Some
thirsty drank there: some, disgusted with life, fell from the walls, others from the living tendrowned themselves in it-slipped from their ants of the place. The debris was sown with
slumber in the filthy shed into this profounder their tatters.
sleep. In the year 1819, the body of a boy, of  Besides the floating population which bivoufourteen years old, was taken up out of the well. acked nightly in the square yard, the Jacressade
To be safe in this house, it was necessary to had three permanent lodgers-a charcoal-man,
be of the "right sort."  The uninitiated were a rag-picker, and a "gold-maker."  The charregarded with suspicion.                   coal-man and the rag-picker occupied two of the
Did these miserable wretches, then, know  palliasses of the first story; the "gold-maker,"
each other? No; yet they scented out the a chemist, lodged in the loft, which was called,
genuine habitue of the Jacressade.        no one knew why, the garret. Nobody knew
The mistress of the house was a young and where the woman slept. The "gold-maker"
rather pretty woman, wearing a cap trimmed was a poet in a small way. He inhabited a room
with ribbons. She washed herself now and then in the roof, under the tiles-a chamber with a
with water from the well. She had a wooden narrow window, and a large stone fireplace
leg.                                      forming a gulf, in which the wind howled at
At break of day, the court-yard became emp- will. The garret window having no frame, he
ty. Its inmates dispersed.                had nailed across it a piece of iron sheathing,
An old cock and some other fowls were kept part of the wreck of a ship. This sheathing
in the court-yard, where they raked among the left little room for the entrance of light, and
filth of the place all day long. A long horizon- much for the entrance of cold. The charcoaltal beam, supported by posts, traversed the yard man paid rent from time to time in the shape
-a gibbet-shaped erection, not altogether out of a sack of charcoal; the rag-picker paid with
of keeping with the associations of the place. a bowl of grain for the fowls every week; the
Sometimes, on the morrow of a rainy day, a silk "gold-maker" did not pay at all. Meanwhile
dress, mudded and wet, would be seen hanging the latter consumed the very house itself for fuel.
out to dry upon this beam. It belonged to the He had pulled down the little wood-work which
woman with the wooden leg.                remained; and every now and then he took from
Over the shed, and like it, surrounding the the wall or the roof a lath or some scantling, to
yard, was a story, and above this story a loft. heat his crucible. Upon the partition, above
A rotten wooden ladder, passing through a hole the rag-picker's mattress, might have been seen
in the roof of the shed, conducted to this story; two columns of figures, marked in chalk by the
and up this ladder the woman would climb, rag-picker himself from week to week-a colsometimes staggering while its crazy rounds umn of threes, and a column of fives-according
creaked beneath her.                      as the bowl of grain had cost him three liards or
The occasional lodgers, whether by the week five centimes. The gold-pot of the " chemist"
or the night, slept in the court-yard; the regu- was an old fragment of a bomb-shell, promoted
lar inmates'lived in the house.           by him to the dignity of a crucible, in which he
Windows without a pane of glass, door-frames mixed his ingredients. The transmutation of
with no door, fireplaces without stoves-such metals absorbed all his thoughts. He was dewere the chief features of the interior. You termined not to die until he had revenged himmight pass from one room to the other indiffer- self by breaking the windows of orthodox sciently, by a long square aperture which had been ence with the real philosopher's stone. His fur



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                             51
nace consumed a good deal of wood. The hand- thing under his blouse. He had bits of old
rail of the stairs had disappeared. The house straw in his clothes, and looked as if he had just
was slowly burning away. The landlady said been aroused from sleep.
to him, "You will leave us nothing but the  He advanced and exchanged glances with the
shell."  He mollified her by addressing her in strangers. The man in the blouse looked beverses.                                   wildered,.but cunning; he said,
Such was'the Jacressade.                  "You are the gunsmith?"
A boy of twelve, or, perhaps, sixteen-for he  The one who had tapped at the window rewas like a dwarf, with a large wen upon his plied, "Yes; you are the man from Paris?"
neck, and always carrying a broom in his hand  "Known as Redskin. Yes."
-was the domestic of the place.             "Show me the thing."
The habitues entered by the gateway of the  The man took from under his blouse a weapcourt-yard; the public entered by the shop.  on extremely rare at that period in Europe. It
What was this shop?                    was a revolver.
In the high wall, facing the street, and to the  The weapon was new and bright. The two
right of the entrance to the court-yard, was a strangers examined it. The one who seemed
square opening, serving at once as a door and a to know the house, and whom the man in the
window. It had a shutter and a frame-the blouse had called "the gunsmith," tried the
only shutter in all the house which had hinges mechanism. He passed the weapon to the othand bolts. Behind this square aperture, which er, who appeared less at home there, and kept
was open to the street, was a little room, a com- his back turned to the light.
partment obtained by curtailing the sleeping  The gunsmith continued,
shed in the court-yard. Over the door, passers-  " How much?"
by read the inscription in charcoal, " Curiosities  The man in the blouse replied,
sold here."  On three boards, forming the shop  "I have just brought it f'om America. Some
front, were several pots without ears, a Chinese people bring monkeys, parrots, and other aniparasol made of gold-beaters' skin, and orna- mals, as if the French people were savages. For
mented with figures, torn here and there, and myself, I brought this. It is a useful invention."
impossible to open or shut; fragments of iron,  "How much?" inquired the gunsmith again.
and shapeless pieces of old pottery, and dilapi-  "It is a pistol which turps and turns."
dated hats and bonnets; three or four shells,  "How much?"
some packets of old bone and metal buttons, a  "Bang! the first fire. Bang! the second
tobacco-box with a portrait of Marie-Antoinette, fire. Bang! the third fire. What a hailstorm
and a dog's-eared volume of Boisbertrand's Al- of bullets! That will do some execution."
gebra. Such was the stock of the shop; this  "The price?"
assortment completed the "curiosities."  The  "There are six barrels."
shop communicated by a back door with the yard  "Well, well what do you want for it?"
in which was the well. It was furnished with a  " Six barrels; that is six Louis."
table and a stool. The woman with a wooden  "Will you take five?"
leg presided at the counter.                "Impossible. One Louis a ball. That is
the price."
"- Come, let us do business together.  Be
reasonable."
VII.                      " I have named a fair price. Examine the
NOCTURNAL BUYERS AND MYSTERIOUS SELLERS. weapon, Mr. Gunsmith."
"I have examined it."
CLUBIN had been absent from the Jean Au-  " The barrel twists and turns like Talleyrand
berge all the evening of Tuesday. On the himself. The weapon ought to be mentioned
Wednesday night he was absent again.     in the' dictionary of weathercocks.' It is a
In the dusk of that evening, two strangers gem."
penetrated into the mazes of the ruelle Coutan-  " I have looked at it."
chez. They stopped in front of the Jacressade.  " The barrels are of Spanish make."
One of them knocked at the window; the door  "I see they are,,"
of the shop opened, and they entered. The   "They are mottled. This is how this motwoman with the wooden leg met them with the tling is done. They empty into a forge the
smile which she reserved for respectable citizens. basket of a collector of old iron. They fill it
There was a candle on the table.         full of these old scraps, with old nails, and
The strangers were, in fact, respectable citi- broken horseshoes swept out of farriers' shops."
zens. The one who had knocked said, " Good-  " And old sickle-blades."
day, mistress. I have come for that affair."  "I was going to say so, Mr. Gunsmith.
The woman with the wooden leg smiled again, They apply to all this rubbish a good sweating
and went out by the back door leading to the heat, and this makes a magnificent material for
court-yard, and where the well was. A moment gun-barrels."
afterwards the back door was opened again, and  "Yes; but it may have cracks, flaws, or
a man stood in the doorway. He wore a cap and crosses."
a blouse. It was easy to see the shape of some-  "True; but they remedy the crosses by little




52                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
twists, and avoid the risk of doublings by beat- slit under the breast of his blouse, the armourer
ing hard. They bring their mass of iron under and his companion, carrying the revolver in his
the great hammer; give it two more good trowsers pocket, stepped out into the straggling
sweating heats. If the iron has been heated street.
too much, they re-temper it with dull heats —
and lighter hammers. And then they take out
their stuff and roll it well; and with this iron             VIII.
they manufacture you a weapon like this."ANNON"              THE  ED BLL AD T
A " CANNON'" OFF THE RED BALL AND THE
"You are in the trade, I suppose?"
"I am of all trades."
"The barrels are pale coloured."           ON the morrow, which was a Thursday, a
"That's the beauty of them, Mr. Gunsmith. tragic circumstance occurred at a short disThe tint is obtained with antimony."       tance from St. Malo, near the peak of the " De" It is settled, then, that we give you five collet," a spot where the cliff is high and the
Louis?"                                   sea deep.
" Allow me to observe that I had the honour  A line of rocks in the form of the top of a
of saying six."                           lance, and connecting themselves with the land
The gunsmith lowered his voice.         by a narrow isthmus, stretch out there into the
" Hark you, master. Take advantage of the water, ending abruptly with a large peak-shaped
opportunity. Get rid of this thing. A weapon breaker. Nothing is commoner in the archiof this kind is of no use to a man like you.  It tecture of the sea. In attempting from the
will make you remarked."                   shore to reach the plateau of the peaked rock,
"It is very true," said the Parisian.  "It is it was necessary to follow an inclined plane,
rather conspicuous. It is more suited to a the'ascent of which was here and there somegentleman."                                what steep.
"Will you take five Louis?"              It was upon a plateau of this kind, towards
"No; six. One for every shot."          four o'clock in the afternoon, that a man was
"Come, six Napoleons."                  standing, enveloped in a large military cape,
"I will have six Louis."                and armed; a fact easy to be perceived from
"You are not a Bonapartist, then.  You certain straight and angular folds in his mantle.
prefer a Louis to a Napoleon."             The summit on which this man was resting was
The Parisian nick-named " Redskin" smiled. a rather extensive platform, dotted with large
"A Napoleon is greater," said he, "but a masses of rock, like enormous paving-stopes,
Louis is worth more."                      leaving between them narrow passages. This
" Six Napoleons."                       platform, on which a kind of thick, short grass
"Six Louis."                            grew here and there, came to an end on the
" Six Louis. It makes a difference to me sea side in an open space, leading to a perpenof four-and-twenty francs."                dicular escarpment.  The escarpment, rising
"The bargain is off in that case."      about sixty feet above the level of the sea,
"Good; I keep the toy."                 seemed cut down by the aid of a plumb-line.
"Keep it."                              Its left angle, however, was broken away, and
"Beating me down! a good idea! It shall formed one of those. natural staircases common
never be said that I got rid like that of a won- to granite cliffs worn by the sea, the steps of
derful specimen of ingenuity."             which are somewhat inconvenient, requiring
"Good-night, then."                     sometimes the strides of a giant or the leaps
"It marks a whole stage in the progress of of an acrobat. These stages of rock descended
making pistols, which the Chesapeake Indians perpendicularly to the sea, where- they were
call Nortay-u-Hah."                       lost.  It was a break-neck place.  However,
"Five Louis, ready money. Why, it is a in case of absolute necessity, a man might suchandful of gold."                          ceed in embarking there, under the very wall
"'Nortay-u-Hah,' that signifies'short gun.' of the cliff.
A good many people don't know that."         A breeze was sweeping the sea. The man,
"Will you take five Louis, and just a bit of wrapped in his cape and standing firm, with
silver?"                                  left hand grasping his right shoulder, closed
"I said six, master."                   one eye, and applied the other to a telescope.
The man who kept his back to the candle, He seemed absorbed in anxious scrutiny. He
and who had not yet spoken, was spending his had approached the edge of the escarpment,
time during the dialogue in turning and testing and stood there motionless, his gaze immovably
the mechanism of the pistol. He approached fixed on the horizon. The tide was high; the
the armourer's ear and whispered,          waves were beating below against the foot of
"Is it a good weapon?"                 the cliffs.
"Excellent."                              The object which the stranger was observing
"I will give the six Louis."            was a vessel in the offing, and which was maFive minutes afterwards, while the Parisian, nceuvering in a strange manner. The vessel,
nick-named "Redskin," was depositing the six which had hardly left the port of St. Malo an
Louis which he had just received in a secret hour, had stopped behind the Banquetiers. It




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               53
had not cast anchor, perhaps because the bot-  The man paused an instant, his arms at his
tom would only have permitted it to bear to sides, but with his fists doubled; and with the
leeward on the edge of the cable, and because eye of a hunter, watching for his prey, he obthe ship would have strained her anchor under served the back of the officer.
the cutwater. Her captain had contented him-  Four steps only separated them. He put
self with lying-to.                       one foot forward, then stopped; took a second
The stranger, who was a coast-guardman, as step, and stopped again. He made no movewas apparent from his uniform cape, watched ments except the act of walking: all the, rest
all the movements of the three-master, and of his body was motionless as a statue. His
seemed to note them mentally. The vessel was foot fell upon the tufts of grass without noise.
lying-to, a little off the wind, which was indi- He made a third step, and paused again. He
cated by the backing of the small topsail, and was almost within reach of the coast-guard,
the bellying of the main-topsail. He had who stood there still motionless with his telesquared the mizen, and set the topmast as close scope. The man brought his two closed fists
as possible, and in such a manner as to work to a level with his collar-bone, then struck out
the sails against each other, and to make little his arms sharply, and his two fists, as if thrown
way either on or off shore. He evidently did from a sling, struck the coast-guardman on the
not care to expose himself much to the wind, for two shoulders. The shock was decisive. The
he kept the small mizen topsail perpendicularly man had not the time to utter a cry. He fell
to the keel. In this way, coming crossway on, head first from the height of the rock into the
he did not drift at the utmost more than half sea. His boots appeared in the air about the
a league an hour.                         time occupied by a flash of lightning. It was
It was still broad daylight, particularly on like the fall of a stone in the sea, which instantthe open sea, and on the heights of the cliff. ly closed over him.
The shores below were becoming dark.        Two or three circles widened out upon the
The coast-guardman, still engaged in his dark water.
duty, and carefully scanning the offing, had not  Nothing remained but the telescope, which
thought of observing the rocks at his side and had dropped from the hands of the man, and
at his feet. He turned his back towards the lay upon the turf.
difficult sort of causeway which formed the  The Quaker leaned over the edge of the escommunication between his resting-place and carpment a moment, watched the circles vanishthe shore. He did not, therefore, remark that ing on the water, waited a few moments, and
something was moving in that direction. Be- then rose again, singing, in a low voice,
hind a fragment of rock, among the steps of that    "The captain of police is dead,
causeway, something like the figure of a manThroughhavinglosthislife."
had been concealed, according to all appear-  He knelt down a second time. Nothing reances, since the arrival of the coast-guardman. appeared. Only at the spot where the officer
From time to time a head issued from the had been engulphed, he observed on the surface
shadow behind the rock; looked up and watch- of the water a sort of dark spot, which became
ed the watcher. The head, surmounted by a diffused with the gentle lapping of the waves.
wide-brimmed American hat, was that of the It seemed probable that the coast-guardman
Quaker-looking man, who, ten days before, was had fractured his skull against some rock under
talking among the stones of the Petit-Bey to water, and that his blood caused the spot in
Captain Zuela.                            the foam. The Quaker, while considering the
Suddenly, the curiosity of the coast-guard- meaning of this spot, began to sing again,
man seemed to be still more strongly awakened.     "Not very long before he died,
He polished the glass of his telescope quickly      Theluckless man was still alive."
with his sleeve, and brought it to bear closely  He did not finish his song.
upon the three-master.                      He heard an extremely soft voice behind him,
A little black spot seemed to detach itself which said:
from her side.                               "Is that you, Rantaine?  Good-day. You
The black spot, looking like a small insect have just killed a man!"
upon the water, was a boat.                 He turned. About fifteen paces behind him,
The boat seemed to be making for the shore. in one of the passages between the rocks, stood
It was manned by several sailors, who were a little man holding a revolver in his hand.
pulling vigorously.                         The Quaker answered,
She pulled crosswise by little and little, and  "As you see. Good-day, Sieur Clubin."
appeared to be approaching the Pointe du    The little man started.
Decolle.                                    "You know me?'"
The gaze of the coast-guardman seemed to  "You knew me very well," replied Rantaine.
have reached its most intense point. No move-  Meanwhile they could hear a sound of oars
ment of the boat escaped it. He had approach- on the sea. It was the approach of the boat
ed nearer still to the verge of the rock.  which the officer had observed.
At that instant a man of large stature ap-  Sieur Clubin said in a low tone, as if speakpeared on one of the rocks behind him. It was ing to himself,
the Quaker. The officer did not see him.    "It was done quickly."




54              -THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
"What can I do to oblige you?" asked Ran- me. I said to myself, there is nobody like Sieur
taine.                                    Clubin for that."
"Oh, a trifling matter! It is very nearly ten  And he advaneed a step.
years since I saw you. You must have been   "Stand back where you were, Rantaine."
doing well. How are you?"                  Rantaine fell back, and said to himself,
"Wellenough," answered Rantaine. "How     "A fellow becomes like a child before one
are you?"                                of those weapons."
"Very well," replied Clubin.             Sieur Clubin continued:
Rantaine advanced a step towards Clubin.  "The position of affairs is this: we have on
A little sharp click caught his ear. It was our right, in the direction of St. Enogat, at
Sieur Clubin who was cocking his revolver.  about three hundred paces from here, another
"' Rantaine, there are about fifteen paces be- coast-guard man-his number is 618-who is
tween us. It is a nice distance. Remain where still alive; and on our left, in the direction of
you are."                                 Saint Lunaire, a customs station. That makes
"Very well," said Rantaine.  "What do seven armed men who could be here, if necesyou want with me?"                      sary, in five minutes. The rock would be sur"I! Oh, I have come to have a chat with rounded; the way hither guarded. Impossible
you."                                    to elude them. There is a corpse at the foot
Rantaine did not offer to move again. Sieur of this rock."
Clubin continued:                          Rantaine took a side-way glance at the re"You assassinated a coast-guard man just volver.
now."                                       "As you say, Rantaine, it is a pretty tool.
Rantaine lifted the flap of his hat, and re- Perhaps it is only loaded with powder; but
plied,                                   what does that matter?, A report would be
"You have already done me the honour to enough to bring an armed force -and I have
mention it."                             six barrels here."
" Exactly; but in terms less precise. I said  The measured sound of the oars became very
a man: I say now, a coast-guardman. The man distinct. The boat was not far off.
wore the number 619. He was the father of a  The tall man regarded the little man curiousfamily; leaves a wife and five children."  ly. Sieur Clubin spoke in a voice more and
"That is no doubt correct," said Rantaine.  more soft and subdued.
There was a momentary pause.              "Rantaine, the men in the boat which is
"They are picked men-those coast-guard coming, knowing what you did here just now,
people," continued Clubin; "almost all old would lend a hand and help to arrest you. You
sailors."                                are to pay Captain, Zuela ten thousand francs
"I have remarked," said Rantaine, "that for your passage. You would have made a betpeople generally do leave a wife and five chil- ter bargain, by the way, with the smugglers of
dren."                                   Pleinmont; but they would only have taken
Sieur Clubin continued:                you to England; and, besides, you cannot risk
" Guess how much this revolver cost me?"  going to Guernsey, where they have the pleas"It is a pretty tool," said Rantaine.  ure of knowing you. To return, then, to the
"What do you guess it at?"             position of affairs - if I fire, you are arrested.
" I should guess it at a good deal."   You are to pay Zuela for your passage ten thou"It cost me one hundred and forty-four sand francs. You have already paid him five
francs."                                 thousand in advance. Zuela would keep the' You must have bought that," said Rantaine, five thousand and be gone. These are the facts.
"at the shop in the ruelle Coutanchez."  Rantaine, you have managed your masqueradClubin continued:                      ing very well. That hat-that queer coat"He did not cry out. The fall stopped his and those gaiters make a wonderful change.
voice, no doubt."                        You forgot the spectacles. You did right to let
"Sieur Clubin, there will be a breeze to- your whiskers grow."
night."                                    Rantaine smiled spasmodically. Clubin con" I am the only one in the secret."    tinned:
"Do you still stay at the Jean Auberge?"  " Rantaine, you have on a pair of American
"Yes; you are not badly served there."  breeches, with a double fob. In one side you
"I remember getting some excellent sour- keep your watch. Take care of it."
krout there."                               "Thank you, Sieur Clubin."
"You must be exceedingly strong, Rantaine.  "In the other is a little box made of wrought
What shoulders you have! I should be sorry iron, which opens and shuts with a spring. It
to get a tap from you. I, on the other hand, is an old sailor's tobacco-box. Take it out of
when I came into the world, looked so spare your pocket, and throw it over to me."
and sickly that they despaired of rearing me."  "Why! this is robbery."
"They succeeded though, which was lucky."  "You are at liberty to call the coast-guard"Yes; I still stay at the Jean Auberge."  man."
"Do you know, Sieur Clubin, how. recog-  And Clubin fixed his eye on Rantaine.
nized you? It was from your having recognized  "Stay, Mess Clubin," said Rantaine, making




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               55
a slight forward movement, and holding out his  He folded up the three bank-notes of a thouopen hand.                                sand pounds each, ieplaced them in the iron
The title " Mess" was a delicate flattery.  tobacco-box, shut the lid again, and put it in
"Stay where you are, Rantaine."         his pocket.
"Mess Clubin, let us come to terms. I offer  Then he picked up a stone, wrapped it in
you half,"                                the ten-pound note, and said,
Clubin crossed his arms, still showing the  "You may turn round again."
barrels of his revolver.                    Rantaine turned.
"Rantaine, what do you take me for? I am  Sieur Clubin continued:
an honest man."                             "I told you I would be contented with
And he added, after a pause,            three thousand francs. Here, I return you ten
"I must have the whole."                pounds."
Rantaine muttered between his teeth, " This  And he threw to Rantaine the note enfolding
fellow's of a stern sort."                the stone.
The.eye of Clubin lighted up, his voice be-  Rantaine, with a movement of his foot, sent
came clear and sharp as steel. He cried,  the bank-note and the stone into the sea.
"I see that you are labouring under a mis-  "As you please," said Clubin. "You must
take. Robbery is your name, not mine. My be rich. I am satisfied."
name is Restitution.  Hark you, Rantaine!   The noise of oars, which had been continuTen years ago you left Guernsey one night, ally drawing nearer during the dialogue, ceased.
taking with you the cash-box of a certain part- They knew by this that the boat had arrived at
nership concern, containing fifty thousand francs the base of the cliff.
which belonged to you, but forgetting to leave  "Your vehicle waits below. You can go,
behind you fifty thousand francs which were Rantaine."
the property of another. Those fifty thousand  Rantaine advancedtowards the steps of stones,
francs, the money of your partner, the excellent and rapidly disappeared.
and worthy Mess Lethierry, make at present,  Clubin moved cautiously towards the edge of
at compound interest, calculated for ten years, the escarpment, and watched him descending.
eighty thousand six hundred and sixty-six   The boat had stopped near the last stage of
francs. You went into a money-changer's yes- the rocks, at the very spot where the coastterday. I'll give you his name-Rebuchet, in guardman had fallen.
St.Vincent Street. You counted out to him   Still observing Rantaine stepping from stone
seventy-six thousand francs in French bank- to stone, Clubin muttered,
notes; in exchange for which he gave you three  "A good number, 619. He thought himself
notes of the Bank of England for one thousand alone.'Rantaine thought there were only two
pounds sterling each, plus the exchange. You there. I only knew that there were three."
put these bank-notes in the iron tobacco-box,  He perceived at his feet the telescope which
and the iron tobacco-box into your double fob had dropped from the hands of the coast-guardon the right-hand side. On the part of Mess man.
Lethierry, I shall be content with that. I start  The sound of oars was heard again. Ranto-morrow for Guernsey, and intend to hand it taine had stepped into the boat, and the rowers
to him. Rantaine, the three-master lying-to had pushed out to sea.
out yonder is the "Tamaulipas."  You have   When Rantaine was safely in the boat, and
had your luggage put aboard there with the the cliff was beginning to recede from his eyes,
other things belonging to the crew. You want he arose again sharply. His features were conto leave France. You have your reasons. You vulsed with rage; he clenched his fist, and
are going to Arequipa. The boat is coming to cried,
fetch you. You are awaiting it. It is at hand.  "Ha! he is the devil himself; a villain!"
You can hear it. ~ It depends on me whether  A few seconds later, Clubin, from the top of
you go or stay. No more words. Fling me the rock, while bringing his telescope to bear
the tobacco-box."                         upon the boat, heard distinctly the following
Rantaine dipped his hand in the fob, drew words articulated by a loud voice, and mingling
out a little box, and threw it to Clubin. It was with the noise of the sea:
the iron tobacco-box. It fell and rolled at Clu-  "Sieur Clubin, you're an honest man; but
bin's feet.                               you will not be offended if I write to Lethierry
Clubin knelt without lowering his gaze; felt to acquaint him with this matter; and we have
about for the box with his left hand, keeping here in the boat a sailor from Guernsey, who is
all the while his eyes and the six barrels of the one of the crew of the'Tamaulipas;' his name
revolver fixed upon Rantaine. Then he cried, is Ahier-Tostevin, and he will return to St.
"Turn your back, mX friend."            Malo on Zuela's next voyage, to bear testimoRantaine turned his back.               ny to the fact of my having returned to you, on
Sieur Clubin put the revolver under one arm, Mess Lethierry's account, the sum of three thouand touched the spring of the tobacco-box. The sand pounds sterling."
lid flew open.                              It was Rantaine's voice.
It contained four bank-notes; three of a  Clubin rarely did things by halves. Motionthousandpounds, and one of ten pounds.    less as the coast-guardman had been, and in the




56                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
exact same place, his eye still at the telescope,  M. Gertrais-Gabourreau emptied his pipe
he did not lose sight of the boat for one mo- upon the corner of a plate, and continued:
ment. He saw it growing less amidst the waves;  "You know the lugger called the'Trojan
watched it disappear and reappear, and approach Horse,' and that fine three-master, the' Trentethe vessel, which was lying-to; and finally he mouzin,' which are gone to. Cardiff. I was
recognised the tall figure of Rantaine on the against their sailing on account of the weather.
deck of the " Tamaulipas."               They have returned in a fine state. The lugger
When the boat was raised, and slung again was laden with turpentine; she sprang aleak,
to the davits, the " Tamaulipas" was in motion and in working the pumps they pumped up with
once more.  The land-breeze was fresh, and the water all her cargo. As to the three-mastshe spread all her sails. Clubin's glass contin- er, she has suffered most above water. Her
ued fixed upon her outline growing more and cutwater, her headrail, the stock of her larboard
more indistinct, until half an hour later, when anchor are broken. Her standing jibboom is
the "Tamaulipas" had become only a dark gone clean by the cap. As for the jib-shrouds
shape upon the horizon, growing smaller and and bobstays, go and see what they look like.
smaller against the pale twilight in the sky.  The mizenmast is not injured, but has had a
severe shock. All the iron of the bowsprit has
~ —-~ —-  ~        given way; and it is an extraordinary fact, that
though the bowsprit itself is not scratched, it is
IX.                    completely stripped. The larboard bow of the
vessel is stove in a good three feet square.
USEFUL INFORMATION FOR PERSONS WHO EX- This is what comes of not taking advice."
PECT OR FEAR THE ARRIVAL OF LETTERS                       t   c     o  t 
Clubin had placed the candle on the table,
FROM BEYOND SEA.                        and had begun to readjust a row of pins which
ON that evening Sieur Clubin returned late. he kept in the collar of his overcoat. He conOne of the causes of his delay was, that'be- tinued:
fore going to his inn, he had paid a visit to the  "Didn't you say, Captain, that the'TamauDinan gate of the town, a place where there lipas' would not touch anywhere?"
were several wine-shops. In one of these wine-  "Yes; she goes direct to Chili."
shops, where he was not known, he had bought  "In that case, she can send no news of hera bottle of brandy, which he placed in the pock- self on the voyage."
et of his overcoat, as if he desired to conceal it.  "I beg your pardon, Captain Clubin.  In
Then, as the Durande was to start on the fol- the first place, she can send any letters by veslowing morning, he had taken a turn aboard to sels she may meet sailing for Europe."
satisfy himself that everything was in order.  "That is true."
When Sieur Clubin returned to the Jean Au-  "Then there is the ocean letter-box."
berge, there was no one left in the Jower room  What do you mean by the ocean letterexcept the old sea-captain, M. Gertrais-Gabour- box?"
reau, who was drinking a jug of ale and smo-  "Don't you know what that is, Captain Clu.
king his pipe.                           bin?"
M. Gertrais-Gabourreau saluted Sieur Clubin  "No."
between a whiff and a draught of ale.       "When you pass the Straits of Magellan-"
"How d'ye do, Captain Clubin?"            Well."
" Good evening, Captain Gertrais."        "Snow all around you; always bad weather;
"Well, the'Tamaulipas' is gone."      ugly down-easters, and bad seas."
" Ah " said Clubin, "I did not observe."  "Well."
Captain Gertrais-Gabourreau expectorated,  "When you have doubled Cape Monand said,                                 mouth-""Zuela has, decamped."                    "Well, what next?"
"When was that?"                        "Then you double Cape Valentine."
"This evening."                            And then?"
"Where is he gone?"                     "Why, then you double Cape Isidore."
"To the devil."                          "And afterwards?"
"No doubt; but where?"                    "You double Point Anne."
"To Arequipa."                           "Good. But what is it you call the ocean
"I knew nothing of it," said Clubin.   letter-box?"
He added,                                 "We are coming to that. Mountains on the
"I am going to bed."                   right, mountains on the left. Penguins and
He lighted his candle, walked towards the stormy petrels all about. A terrible place.
door, and returned.                      Ah! by Jove, what a howling and what cracks
"Have you ever been at Arequipa, Cap- you get there! The hurricane wants no help.
tain?"                                  That's the place for holding on to the sheer"Yes; some years ago."                 rails-for reefing topsails. That's where you
"Where do they touch on that voyage?"  take in the mainsail, and fly the jibsail; or take
"A little every where; but the'Tamauli- in the jibsail and try the storm-jib. Gusts upon
pas' will touch nowhere?"               gusts! And then, sometimes four, fife, or six




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                57
days of cap seche.  Often only a rag of canvas yours. As ships are always going to and fro,
left. What a dance! Squalls enough to make the continent whence you come is that to which
a three-master skip like a flea. I saw once a I am going. I carry your letters; you carry
cabin-boy hanging on to the jibboom of an En- mine. The barrel is made fast to the post with
glish brig,'The True Blue,' knocked, jibboom  a chain. And it rains, snows, and hails! A
and all, to ten thousand nothings. Fellows are pretty sea. The imps of Satan fly about'on
swept into the air there like butterflies. I saw  every side. The'Tamaulipas' will pass there.
the second mate of the'Revenue,' a pretty The barrel has a good lid with a hinge, but no
schooner, knocked from under the fore cross- padlock. You see, a fellow can write to his
tree, and killed dead. I have had my sheer- friends this way. The letters come safely."
rails smashed, and come out with all my sails  "It is very curious," muttered Clubin,
in ribbons. Frigates of fifty guns make water thoughtfully.
like wicker baskets. And the damnable coast!  Captain Gertrais-Gabourreau returned to his
Nothing can be imagined more dangerous. bottle of ale.
Rocks all jagged edged. You come, by-and-    "If that vagabond Zuela should write, the
by, to Port Famine.   There it's worse and scoundrel puts his scrawl into the barrel at
worse. The worst seas I ever saw in my life. Magellan, and in four months I have his letter."
The devil's own latitudes. All of a sudden   "Well, Captain Clubin, do you start to-moryou spy the words, painted in red,'Post Of- row?"
fice."'                                      Clubin, absorbed in a sort of somnambulism,
I"What do you mean, Captain Gertrais?"  did not notice the question, and Captain Ger"I, mean, Captain Clubin, that immediately trais repeated it.
after doubling Point Anne you see, on a rock,  Clubin woke up.
a hundred feet high, a great post with a barrel  "Of cdurse, Captain Gertrais. It is my day.
suspended to the top. This barrel is the letter- I must start to-morrow morning."
box. The English sailors must needs go and   "If it was my case, I shouldn't, Captain Ctlwrite up there' ost Office.' What had they to bin. The hair of the dog's coat feels damp.
do with it? It is the ocean post-office. It For two nights past, the sea-birds have been flyisn't the property of that worthy gentleman, the ing wildly round the lanthorn of the lighthouse.
King of England. The box is common to all. A bad sign. I have a storm-glass, too, which
It belongs to every flag.  Post Office: there's a gives me a warning. The moon is at her seccrack-jaw word for you. It produces an effect ond quarter; it is the maximum of humidity.
on me as if the devil had suddenly offered me a I noticed to-day some pimpernels with their
cup of tea. I will tell you now how the postal leaves shut, and a field of clover with its stalks
arrangements are carried out. Every vessel all stiff. The worms come out of the ground
which passes sends to the post a boat with de- to-day; the flies sting; the bees keep close to
spatches.  A vessel coming from the Atlantic, their hives; the sparrows chatter together. You
for instance, sends there its letters for Europe; can hear the sound of bells from far off. I
and a ship coming firom the Pacific, its letters heard to-night the Angelus at St. Lunaire. And
for New Zealand or California. The officer in then the sun set angry. There will be a good
command of the boat puts his packet into the fog to-morrow, mark my words. I don't adbarrel, and takes away any packet he finds vise you to put to sea. I dread the fog a good
there. You take charge of these letters, and deal more than a hurricane. It's a nasty neighthe ship which comes after you takes charge of bour that.'
BOOK VI.
THE DRUNKEN STEERSMAN AND THE SOBER CAPTAIN.
-                 ~I.~  1   The nearest point on the French coast to the
Douvres is Cape Brehat. The Douvres are a
THE DOUVRES.                little further from the coast of France than from
AT about five leagues out, in the open sea, the nearest of the Channel Islands. The disto the south of Guernsey, opposite Pleinmont tance from Jersey may be pretty nearly measPoint, and between the Channel Islands and St. ured by the long diagonal of Jersey. If the
Malo, there is a group of rocks, called the Dou- Island of Jersey could be turned round upon
vres. The spot is dangerous.               Corbiere, as upon a hinge, St. Catherine's Point
This term Douvres, applied to rocks and cliffs, would almost touch the Douvres, at a distance
is very common. There is, for example, near of more than four leagues.
the Cotes du Nord, a Douvre, on which a light-  In these civilized regions the wildest rocks
house is now being constructed; a dangerous are rarely desert places. Smugglers are met
reef, but one which must not be confounded with with at Hagot, custom-house'^-men' at Binic,
the rock above referred to.                Celts at Brehat, oyster-dredgers at Cancale,




58                          THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
rabbit-shooters at Cesambre or Casar's Island, darkness, the rude first forms of life, phantomcrab-gatherers at Brecqhou, trawlers at the Min- like, demoniacal, pursue their horrible instincts.
quiers, dredgers at Ecrehou, but no one is ever  Forty years ago, two rocks of singular form
seen upon the Douvres.                     signalled the Douvres from afar to passers on
The sea-birds alone make their home there.  the ocean. They were two vertical points, sharp
No spot in the ocean is more dreaded. The and curved, their summits almost touching each
Casquets, where it is said the "Blanche Nef" other. They looked like the two tusks of an
was lost; the Bank of Calvado; the Needles in elephant rising out of the sea; but they were
the Isle of.Wight; the Ronesse, which makes tusks, high as tall towers, of an elephant huge
the coast of Beaulieu so dangerous; the sunken as a mountain. These two natural towers, risreefs at Preel, which block the entrance to Mer- ing out of the obscure home of marine monsters,
quel, and which necessitates the red-painted only left a narrow passage between them,where
beacon in twenty fathoms of water, the treach- the waves rushed through.'This passage, torerous approaches to Etables and Plouha; the tuous and full of angles, resembled a straggling
two Druids of granite.to the south of Guernsey, street between high walls. The two twin rocks
the Old Anderlo anlthe Little Anderlo, the are called the Douvres. There was the Great
Corbiere, the Hanways, the Isle of Ras, associa- Douvre and the Little Douvre; one was sixty
ted with terror in the proverb:             feet high, the other forty. The ebb and flow of
"Si jamais tupasses ie Ras,       the tide had at last worn away part of the base
Si tu ne meurs, tu tremblera;"    of the towers, and a violent equinoctial gale on
the Mortes-Femmes, theDeroute between Guern- the 26th of October, 1859, overthrew one of
sey and Jersey, the Hardent between the Min- them.  The smaller one, which still remains, is
quiers and Chousey, the Mauvais Cheval be- worn and tottering.
tween Bouley Bay and Barneville, have not so  One of the most singular of the Douvres is a
evil a reputation. It would be preferable to rock known as "The Man."  This still exists.
have to encounter all these dangers, one aftei' Some fishermen in the last centuryvisiting this
the other, than the Douvres once.           spot found on the height of this rock a human
In all that perilous sea of the Channel, which body. By its side were a number of empty seais the Egean of the West, the Douvres have no shells. A sailor escaped fiom shipwreck had
equal in their terrors, except the Paternoster found a refuge there; had lived some time upon
between Guernsey and Sark.                  rock limpets, and had died. Hence its name
From the Paternoster, however, it is possible of "The Man."
to give a signal-a ship in distress there may  The solitudes of the sea are peculiarly disobtain succour. To the north rises Discard or mal. The things which pass there seem to
D'Icare Point, and to the south Grosnez. From  have no relation to the human race; their obthe Douvres you can see nothing.            jects are unknown. Such is the isolation of
Its associations are the storm, the cloud, the the Douvres. All around, as far as eye can
wild sea, the desolate waste, the uninhabited reach, spreads the vast and restless sea.
coast. The blocks of granite are hideous and
enormous-everywhere perpendicular wall-the
severe inhospitality of the abyss.
It is the open sea; the water about is very                  II.
deep. A rock completely isolated like the DouAN UxNEXPECTED FLASK OF BRANDY.
vres attracts and shelters creatures which shun
the haunts of men. It is a sort of vast subma-  ON the Friday morning, the day after the
rine cave of fossil coral branches-a drowned departure of the "Tamaulipas," the Durande
labyrinth. There, at a depth to which divers started again for Guernsey.
would find it difficult to descend, are caverns,  She left St. Malo at nine o'clock.  The
haunts, and dusky mazes, where monstrous crea-, weather was fine; no haze. Old Captain Gertures multiply and destroy each other. Huge trais-Gabourreat was evidently in his dotage.
crabs devour fish and are devoured in their turn.  Sieur Clubin's numerous occupations had deHideous shapes of living things, not created to cidedly.been unfavourable to the collection of
be seen by human eyes, wander in this twilight. freight for the Durande.  He had only taken
Vague forms of antennae, tentacles, fins, open aboard some packages of Parisian articles for
jaws, scales, and claws, float about there, quiv- the fancy shops of St. Peter's Port; three cases
ering, growing larger, or decomposing and for the Guernsey hospital, one containing yelperishing in the gloom, while horrible swarms low soap and long candles, and the other French
of swimming things prowl about seeking their shoe-leather for soles, and choice Cordovan
prey.                                       skins. He brought back from his last cargo a
To gaze into the depths of the sea is, in the case of crushed sugar and three chests of congou
imagination, like beholding the vast unknown, tea, which the French'custom-house would not
and from its most terrible point of view. The permit to paAs. Sieur Clubin had embarked
submarine gulf is analogous to the realm of very few cattle; some bullocks only.  These
night and dreams.' There also is sleep, uncon- bullocks were in the hold loosely tethered.
sciousness, or at least apparent unconsciousness,  There were six passengers aboard; a Guernof creation. There, in the awful silence and sey man, two inhabitants of St. Malo, dealers in




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               59
cattle; a " tourist"-a phrase already in vogue  This had been the fate of the helmsman of
at this period-a Parisian citizen, probably trav- the Durande.
cling on commercial affairs, and an American,  At the Bordage of St. Peter's Port, there is a
engaged in distributing Bibles.           dealer in old iron, named Ingrouille, who is
Without reckoning Clubin, the crew of the probably an Ingroville. Under Louis le Gros,
Durande amounted to seven men; a helmsman, the Ingrovilles possessed three parishes in the
a stoker, a ship's carpenter, and a cook-serving district of Valognes. A certain Abbe Trigan
as sailors in case of need-two engineers, and a has written an Ecclesiastical History of Norcabin-boy. One of the two engineers was also mandy. This chronicler Trigan was the cure
a practical mechanic. This man, a bold and of the Seigniory of Digoville. The Sire of Diintelligent Dutch negro, who had originally es- goville, if he had sunk to a lower grade, would
caped from the sugar plantations of Surinam, have been called Digouille.
was named Imbrancam. The negro, Imbran-     Tangrouille, this probable Tancarville, and
cam, understood and attended admirably to the possible Montmorency, had an ancient noble
engine. In the early days of the "Devil Boat," quality, but a grave failing for a steersman-he
his black face, appearing now and then at the got drunk occasionally.
top of the engine-room stairs, had contributed  Sieur Clubin had obstinately determined to
not a little to sustain its diabolical reputa- retain him. He answered for his conduct to
tion.                                     Mess Lethierry.
The helmsman, a native of Guernsey, but of  Tangrouille the helmsman never left the vesa family originally from Cotentin, bore the name tel; he slept aboard.
of Tangrouille. The Tangrouilles were an old  On the eve of their departure, when Sieur
noble family.                             Clubin came at a late hour to inspect the vessel,
This was strictly true. The Channel Islands Tangrouille was in his hammock asleep.
are like England, an aristocratic region. Castes  In the night Tangrouille awoke. It was his
exist there still. The castes have their peculiar nightly habit. Every drunkard who is not his
ideas, which are, in fact, their protection. These own master has his secret hiding-place. Tannotions of caste are every where similar; in Hin- grouille had his, which he called his store. The
dostan, as in Germany, nobility is won by the secret store of Tangrouille was in the hold. He
sword, lost by soiling the hands with labour, but had placed it there to put others off the scent.
is preserved by idleness. To do nothing is to He thought it certain that his hiding-place was
live nobly; whoever abstains from work is hon- known only to himself. Captain Clubin, being
oured. A trade is fatal. In France, in old a sober man himself, was strict. The little rum
times, there was no exception to this rule, ex- or gin which the helmsman could conceal from
cept in the case of glass manufacturers. Emp- the vigilant eyes of the captain, he kept in retying bottles being then one of the glories of serve in this mysterious corner of the hold, and
gentlemen, making them was probably, for that nearly every night he had a stolen interview with
reason, not considered dishonourable. In the the contents of this store. The surveillance was
Channel archipelago, as in Great Britain, he rigorous, the orgie was a poor one, and Tangrouwho would remain noble must contrive to be ille's nightly excesses were generally confined to
rich. A working man can not possibly be a two or three furtive gulps. Sometimes it hapgentleman. If he has ever been one, he is so pened that the store was empty. This night
no longer. Yonder sailor, perhaps, descends Tangrouille had found there an unexpectedbotfrom the Knights Bannerets, but is nothing but tie of brandy. His joy was great, but his asa sailor. Thirty years ago, a real Gorges, who tonishment greater. From what cloud had this
would have had rights over the Seigniory of bottle fallen?  He could not remember when
Gorges, confiscated by Philip Augustus, gather- oi how he had ever brought it into the ship.
ed sea-weed, naked-footed, in the sea. A Car- He soon consumed the whole of it, partly from
teret is a wagoner in Sark. There are at Jer- motives of prudence, and partly from a fear
sey a draper, and at Guernsey a shoemaker, that the brandy might be discovered and seized.
named Gruchy, who claim to be Gruchys, and The bottle he threw overboard. In the morncousins of the Marshal of Waterloo. The old ing, when he took the helm, Tangrouille exhibregisters of the Bishopric of Coutances make ed a slight oscillation of the body.
mention of a Seigniory of Tangroville, evident-  He steered, however, pretty nearly as usual.
ly from Tancarville, on the Lower Seine, which  With regard to Clubin, he had gone, as the
is identical with Montmorency. In the fifteenth reader knows, to sleep at the Jean Auberge.
century,Johan de Heroudeville, archer and etoffe  Clubin always wore, under his shirt, a leathof the Sire de Tangroville, bore behind him " son ern travelling belt, in which he kept. a reserve
corset et ses autres hamois." In May, 1371, at of twenty guineas: he took this belt off only at
Pontorson, at the review of Bertrand de Gues- night. Inside the belt was his name, "Cluclin, Monsieur de Tangroville rendered his hom- bin," written by himself on the rough leathage as Knight Bachelor. In the Norman isl- er, with thick lithographers' ink, which is inands, if a noble falls into poverty, he is soon delible.
eliminated from the order. A mere change of  On rising, just before his departure, he put
pronunciation is enough. Tangroville becomes into this girdle the iron box containing the sevTangrouille: the thing is done.           enty-five thousand francs in bank-notes; then,




60                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
as he was accustomed to do, he buckled the belt  While these laws are still in great part undisround his body.                           covered, the struggle continues, and in this
struggle navigation, by the help of steam, is a
perpetual victory won by human skill every hour
III.                   Iof the day, and upon every point of the sea. The
admirable feature in steam navigation is, that it
ONVERSATIONS INTEIRPTEDdisciplines the very ship herself. It diminishes
THE Durande started pleasantly. The pas- her obedience to the winds, and increases her
sengers, as soon as their bags and portmanteaus docility to man.
were installed upon and under the benches, took  The Durande had never worked better at sea
that customary survey of the vessel which seems than on that day. She made her way marvelindispensable under the circumstances. Two of iously.
the passengers-the tourist and the Parisian-  Towards eleven o'clock, a fresh breeze blowhad never seen a steam vessel before, and from  ing from the nor'-nor'-west, the Durande was
the moment the paddles began to revolve, they off the Minquiers, under little steam, keeping her
stood admiring the foam. Then they looked head to the west, on the starboard tack, and
with wonderment at the smoke. Then they ex- close up to the wind. The weather was still fine
amined, one by one, and almost piece by piece, and clear. The trawlers, however, were making
upon the upper and lower deck, all those naval for shore.
appliances-such as rings, grapnels, hooks, and  By little and little, as if each one was anxious
bolts - which, with their nice precision and to get into port, the sea became clear of the boats.
adaptation, form a kind of colossal bifouterie-a  It could not be said that the Durande was
kind of iron jewellery gilded with rust by the keeping quite her usual course. The crew gave
weather. They walked round the little signal no thought to such matters. The confidence in
gun upon the upper deck. " Chained up like a the captain was absolute; yet, perhaps through
sporting dog, "observed the tourist.  "And cov- the fault of the helmsman, there was a slight
ered with a waterproof coat to prevent its taking deviation. The Durande appeared to be makcold," added the Parisian. As they left the land ing rather towards Jersey than Guernsey. A
further behind, they indulged in the customary little after eleven the captain rectified the vesobservations upon the view of St. Malo. One sel's course, and put her head fair for Guernsey.
passenger laid down the axiom that the approach It was only a little time lost, but in short days
to a place by sea is always deceptive; and that time lost has its inconveniences. It was a Febat a league from the shore, for example, nothing ruary day, but the'sun shone brightly.
could more resemble Ostend than Dunkirk. He  Tangrouille, in his half-intoxicated state, had
completed his series of remarks on Dunkirk by not a very sure arm, nor a very firm footing.
the observation that one of its two floating lights, The result was, that the helmsman lurched pretpainted red, was called Ruytingen, and the other ty often, which also retarded progress.
Mardyck.                                    The wind had almost entirely fallen.
St. Male, meanwhile, grew simaller in the dis-  The Guernsey passenger, who had a telescope
tance, and finally disappeared from view.  in his hand, brought it to bear from time to time
The aspect of the sea was a vast calm. The upon a little cloud of gray mist, lightly moved
furrow left in the water by the vessel, a long by the wind, in the extreme western horizon. It
double line edged with foam, and stretching in resembled a fleecy down sprinkled with dust.
a straight line behind them as far as the eye  Captain Clubin wore his'ordinary austere,
could see.                                Puritan-like expression of countenance. He
A straight line drawn from St. Malo in France appeared to redouble his attention.
to Exeter in England would touch the island of  All was peaceful and almost joyous aboard
Guernsey. The straight line at sea is not al- the Durande. The passengers chatted. It is
ways the one chosen. Steam vessels, however, possible to judge of the state of the sea in a pashave, to a certain extent, a power of following sage with the eyes closed, by noting the trenolo
the direct course-denied to sailing ships.  of the conversation about you. The full freeThe wind, in co-operation with the sea, is a dom of mind among the passengers answers to
combination of forces. A ship is a combination the perfect tranquillity of the waters.
of appliances-Forces are machines of infinite  It is impossible, for example, that a conversapoiweTr.-:Machines are forces of limited power. tion like the following could take place otherThat struggle which we call. navigation is be- wise than on a very calm sea.
tween these two organizations-the one inex-  "Observe that pretty green and red fly."
haustible, the other intelligent.            "It has lost itself out at sea, and is resting
Mind, directing the mechanism, forms- the on the ship."
counterbalance to the infinite power of the op-  "Flies do not soon get tired."
posing forces. But the opposing forces, too,  "No doubt; they are light; the wind carries
have their organization. The elements are con- them."
scious of where they go, and what they are about.  "An ounce of flies was once weighed, and
No force is merely blind. It is the function of afterwards counted; and it was found to comman to keep watch upon these natural agents, prise no less than six thousand two hundred and
and to discover their laws.               sixty-eight."




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                61
The Guernsey passenger with the telescope ary was considering whether this was a case for
had approached the St. Malo cattle-dealers, and the offer of a Bible.
their talk was something in this vein:       " Is it true, Sir, " asked the tourist, " that you
"The Aubrac bull has a round and thick but- have a passion for nick-names in America so
tock, short legs, and a yellowish hide. He is complete that you confer them upon all your
slow at work by reason of the shortness of his celebrated men? and that you call your famous
legs."                                    Missouri banker, Thomas Benton,'Old Bullion,'
"In that matter the Salers beats the Aubrac." just as you call Zachary Taylor' Old Zach?'"
"I have seen, Sir, two beautiful bulls in my  "And General Harrison,'Old Tip;' am I
life. The first has the legs low, the breast thick, right? and General Jackson,'Old Hickory?'"
the rump full, the haunches large, a good length  "Because Jackson is hard as hickory wood;
of neck to the udder, withers of good height, the and because Harrison beat the redskins at Tipskin easy to strip. The second had all the signs pecanoe."
of good fattening, a thickset back, neck and  "It is an odd fashion, that of yours."
shoulders strong, coat white and brown, rump  "It is our custom. We call Van Buren
sinking."'The Little Wizard;' Seward, who introduced
" That's the Cotentin race."            the small bank-notes,' Little Billy;' and Doug"Yes; with a slight cross with the Angus or las, the Democrat, senator from Illinois, who is
Suffolk bull."                            four feet high, and very eloquent,'The Little
"You may believe if you please, Sir, but I as- Giant.' You may go from Texas to the State
sure you in the south they hold shows of don- of Maine without hearing the name of Mr. Cass.
keys."                                    They say'The Great Michiganer;' nor the name
"Shows of donkeys?"                     of Clay; they say'The Miller's Boy of the
"Of donkeys, on my honour. And the ugli- Slashes.' Clay is the son of a miller."
est are the most admired."                   "I should prefer to say' Clay' or'Cass,'"
" Ha! it is the same as with the mule shows. said the Parisian.  " It's shorter."
The ugly ones are considered best."          "Then you would be out of the fashion. We
"Exactly. Take also the Poitevin mares; call Corwin, who is the Secretary of the Treaslarge belly, thick legs."                 ury,'The Wagoner-boy;' Daniel Webster,
"The best mule known is a sort of barrel'Black Dan.' As to Winfield Scott, as his first
upon four posts."                         thought, after beating the English at Chippe"'Beauty in beasts is a different thing from  way, was to sit down to dine, we call him
beauty in men."'Hasty Basin of Soup.'"
"And.particularly in women."              The small white mist perceived in the dis"That is true." i                       tance had become larger. It filled now a seg"As for me, I like a woman to be pretty."  ment of fifteen degrees above the horizon. It
"I am more particular about her being well was like a cloud loitering along the water for
dressed."                                 want of wind to stir it. The breeze had almost
"Yes; neat, clean, and well set off."   entirely died away. The sea was glassy. Al"Looking just new. A pretty girl ought al- though it was not yet noon, the sun was beways to appear as if she had just been turned coming pale. It lighted, but seemed to give
out by the jeweller."                     no warmth.
"To return to my bulls; I saw these two sold  "I fancy," said the tourist, "that we shall
at the market at Thouars."                have a change of weather."
"The market at Thouars; I know it very    "Probably rain," said the Parisian.
well. The Bonneaus of La Rochelle, and the   "Or fog," said the American.
Babus corn-merchants at Maraus, I don't know  "In Italy," remarked the tourist, " Molfetta
whether you have heard of them attending that is the place where falls the least rain, and Tolmarket."                                  mezzo where there falls the most."
The tourist and the Parisian were conversing  At noon, according to the usage of the Chanwith the American of the Bibles.          nel Islands, the bell sounded for dinner. Those
"Sir," said the tourist, "I will tell you the dined who desired.  Some passengers had
tonnage of the civilized world. France, 716,000 brought with them provisions, and were eating
tons; Germany, 1,000,000; the United States, merrily on the after-deck. Clubin did not eat.
5,000,000; England, 5,500,000; add the small  While this eating was going on, the convervessels.  Total, 12,904,000 tons, carried in sations continued.
145,000 vessels, scattered over the waters of the  The Guernsey man, having probably a scent
globe."                                   for Bibles, approached the American.  The
The American interrupted:               latter said to him,
"It is the United States, Sir, which have   You know this sea?"
5,500,000."                                  "Very well; I belong to this part."
"I defer," said the tourist. "You are an    And I too," said one of the St. Malo
American?"                               men.
" Yes, Sir."                              The native of Guernsey followed with a bow,
"I defer still more."                   and continued:
There fwas a pause. The American mission-' We are fortunately well out at sea now;




62                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
I should not have liked a fog when we were   "There are eight rocks visible from Jersey."
off the Minquiers."                          "Visible from the strand of Azette; that's
The American said to the St. Malo man,   correct; but not eight-only seven."
"Islanders are more at home on the sea than  "At low water you can walk about the Minthe folks of the coast."                   quiers."
"True; we coast people are only half dipped  "No doubt; there would be sand above
in salt water."                            water."
"What are the Minquiers?" asked the Amer- " And what of the Dirouilles?"
ican.                                        "The Dirouilles bear no resemblance to the
The St. Malo man replied,                Minquiers."
"They are an ugly reef of rocks."          " They are very dangerous."
"There are also the Grelets," said the     "They are near Granville."
Guernsey man.                                "I see that you St. Malo people, like us, en"Parbleu!" ejaculated the other.        joy sailing in these seas."
"And the Chouas," added the Guernsey       "Yes," replied the St. Malo man, "with the
man.                                       difference that we say,'We have the habit;'
The inhabitant of St. Malo laughed.     you,'We are fond."'
" As for that," said he, " there are the Sav-  "You make good sailors."
ages also."                                  "I am myself a cattle-merchant."
"And the Monks," observed the Guernsey     "Who was that famous sailor of St. Malo?"
man.                                         "Surcouf?"
"And the Duck;" cried the St. Maloite.     "Another?"
" Sir," remarked the inhabitant of Guernsey,  " Duguay-Trouin."
"you have an answer for everything."         Here the Parisian commercial man chimed
The tourist interposed with a question:  in,
"Have we to pass all that legion of rocks?"  "Duguay-Trouin? He was captured by the
" No; we have left it to the sou'-south-east. English. He was as agreeable as he was brave.
It is behind us."                          A young English lady fell in love with him.
And the Guernsey passenger continued:    It was she who procured him his liberty."
"Big and little rocks together, the Grelets  At this moment a voice like thunder was
have fifty-seven peaks."                   heard crying out,
"And the Minquiers forty-eight," said the  "You are drunk, man!"
other.
The dialogue was now confined to the St.
Malo and the Guernsey passenger.
"It strikes me, Monsieur St. Malo, that there               IV.
are three rocks which you have not included." CAPTAIN CLBIN DISPLYS ALL      GEAT
CAPTAIN CLUBIIN DIsPLAYs ALL IS GREAT
"I mentioned all."
QUALITIES.
"From the Deree to the Maitre Ile?"
" And Les Maisons?"                      EVERYBOD turned.
"Yes; seven rocks in the midst of the Min-  It was the captain calling to the helmsman.
quiers."                                     Sieur Clubin's tone and manner evidenced
"I see you know the very stones."       that he was extremely angry, or that he wished
"If I didn't know the stones, I should not be to appear so.
an inhabitant of St. Malo."                  A well-timed burst of anger sometimes re" It is amusing to hear French people's rea- moves responsibility, and sometimes shifts it on
soings."                                   other shoulders.
The St. Malo man bowed in his turn, and    The captain, standing on the bridge between
said,                                      the two paddle-boxes, fixed his eyes on the
"The Savages are three rocks."          helmsman.   He repeated, between his teeth,
"And the Monks two."                    "Drunkard."   The unlucky Tangrouille hung
"And the Duck one."                     his head.
" The Duck; this is only one, of course."  The fog had made progress. It filled by this
"No; for the Suarde consists of four rocks." time nearly one half of the horizon. It seemed
"What do you mean by the Suarde?" asked to advance from every quarter at the same time.
the inhabitant of Guernsey.                There is something in a fog of the nature of a
"We call the Suarde what you call the drop of oil upon the water. It enlarged inChouas."                                  sensibly. The light wind moved it onward
"It is a queer passage, that between the slowly and silently. By little and little, it took
Chouas and the Duck."                     possession of the ocean. It was coming chiefly
"It is impassable except for the birds."  from the north-west, dead ahead: the ship had
"And the fish."                         it before her prow, like a line of cliff moving
"Scarcely: in bad weather they give them- vast and vague. It rose from the sea like a
selves hard knocks against the walls."     wall. There was an exact point where the
"There is sand near the Minquiers?"    wide waters entered the fog, and were lost to
"Around Les Maisons."                   sight.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                63
This line of the commencement of the fog   "True, Captain Clubin."
was still above half a league distant.  The in-  And Clubin added,
terval was visibly growing less and less. The  "I am anxious to arrive. It is foggy enough
Durande made way; the fog made way also. by day; it would be rather too much at night."
It was drawing nearer to the vessel, while the  The Guernsey man rejoined his St. Malo felvessel was drawing nearer to it.           low-passengers, and remarked,
Clubin gave the order to put on more steam,  " We have an excellent captain."
and to hold off the coast.                   At intervals, great waves of mist bore down
Thus, for some time, they skirted the edge of heavily upon them, and blotted out the sun,
the fog; but still it advanced.  The vessel, which again issued out of them pale and sickly.
meanwhile, sailed in broad sunlight.       The little that could be seen of the heavens reTime was lost in' these manceuvres, which sembled the long strips of painted sky, dirty and
had little chance of success. Nightfall comes smeared with oil, among the old scenery of a
quickly in February. The native of Guernsey theatre.
was meditating upon the subject of this fog.  The Durande passed close to a cutter which
He said to the St. Malo men,               had cast anchor for safety. It was the " Sheal"It will be thick.';                    tiel" of Guernsey. The master of the cutter
"An ugly sort of weather at sea," observed remarked the high speed of the steam vessel.
one of the St. Malo men.                   It struck him also that she was not in her exact
The other added,                         course.  She seemed to him to bear to west"A kind of thing which spoils a good pas- ward too much. The apparition of this vessel
sage."                                     under full steam in the fog surprised him.
The Guernsey passenger approached Clubin,  Towards two o'clock the weather had become
and said,                                  so thick that the captain was obliged to leave
"I'm afraid, Captain, that the fog will catch the bridge, and plant himself near the steersus."                                       man. The sun had vanished, and all was fog.
Clubin replied,                          A sort of ashy darkness surrounded the ship.
" I wished to stay at St. Malo, but I was ad- They were navigating in a pale shroud. They
vised to go."                              could see neither sky nor water.
"By whom?"                                 There was not a breath of wind.
"By some old sailors."                     The can of turpentine suspended under the
"You were certainly right to go," said the bridge, between the paddle-boxes, did not even
Guernsey man. "Who knows whether there oscillate.
will not be a tempest to-morrow?  At this sea-  The passengers had become silent.
son you may wait and find it worse."         The Parisian, however, hummed between his
A few moments later, the Durande entered teeth the song of Beranger-" Un jour le bon
the fog bank.                              Dieu s'eveillant."
The effect was singular. Suddenly those    One of the St. Malo passengers addressed
who were on the after-deck could not see those him:
forward. A soft gray medium divided the ship  "You are from Paris, sir?"
in two.                                      "Yes, sir. I mit la ette a la fentre."
Then the entire vessel passed into the fog.  "What do they do in Paris?"
The'sun became like a dull red moon. Every- "-Leuur planete a peri, peut-etre." In Paris,
body suddenly shivered. The passengers put sir, things are going on very badly.
on their overcoats, and the sailors their tar-' Then it's the same ashore as at sea."
paulins. The sea, almost without a ripple, was  " It is true; we have an abominable fog
the more menacing from its cold tranquillity. here."
All was pale and wan. The black funnel and   "One which might involve us in misfortunes."
the heavy smoke struggled with the dewy mist  The Parisian exclaimed,
which enshrouded the vessel.                 "Yes; and why all these misfortunes in the
Dropping to westward was now useless. The world? Misfortunes! What are they sent for,
captain kept the vessel's head again towards these misfortunes?  What use do they serve?
Guernsey, and gave orders to put on the steam. There was the fire at the Odeon theatre, and
The Guernsey passenger, hanging about the immediately a number of families thrown out
engine-room hatchway, heard the negro Imbran- of employment. Is that just?  I don't know
cam talking to his engineer comrade. The pas- what is your religion, sir, but I am puzzled by
senger listened.  The negro said,          all this."
"This morning, in the sun, we were going   "So am I," said the St. Malo man.
half steam  on; now, in the fog, we put on   "Everything that happens here below," consteam."                                   tinued the Parisian, "seems to go wrong. It
The Guernsey man returned to Clubin:     looks as if Providence, for some reason, no lon"Captain Clubin, a look-out is useless; but ger watched over the world."
have we not too much steam on.?"             The St. Malo man scratched the top of his
"What can I do, sir?. We must make up head, like one making an effort to understand.
for time lost through the fault of that drunk- The Parisian continued:
ard of a helmsman."                          "Our guardian angel seems to be absent.




64                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
There ought to be a decree against celestial ab- few waves were distinguishable. Little patches
senteeism.  He is at his country-house, and of light appeared on the surface of the water.
takes no notice of us; so all goes wrong.  It These luminous patches attract the attention
is evident that this guardian is not in the gov- of the sailors. They indicate openings made
ernment; he is taking holiday, leaving some by the wind in the overhanging roof of fog.
vicar —some seminarist-angel, some wretched The cloud rose a little, and then sunk heavier.
creature with sparrows'-wings-to look after af- Sometimes the density was perfect. The ship
fairs."                                     was involved in a sort of foggy iceberg. At
Captain Clubin, who had approached the intervals this terrible circle opened a little, like
speakers during this conversation, laid his hand a pair of pincers; showed a glimpse of the horupon the shoulder of the Parisian:          izon, and then closed again.
"Silence, sir," he said.  "Keep a watch    Meanwhile the Guernsey-man, armed with his
upon your words. We are upon the sea."     spy-glass, was standing like a sentinel in the
No one spoke again aloud.                fore part of the vessel.
After a pause of five minutes, the Guernsey  An opening appeared for a moment, and was
man, who had heard all this, whispered in the blotted out again.
ear of the St. Malo passenger,                The Guernsey man returned alarmed.
"A religious man, our captain."             " Captain Clubin!"
It did not rain, but all felt their clothing wet.  "What is the matter?"
The crew took no heed of the way they were    "We are steering right upon the Hanways."
making; but there was increased sense of un-  "You are mistaken," said Clubin, coldly.
easiness.  They seemed to have entered into a  The Guernsey man insisted:
doleful region. The fog makes a deep silence  "I am sure of it."
on the sea; it calms the waves, and stifles the  "Impossible."
wind. In the midst of this silence, the creaking  "I have just seen the rock in the horizon."
of the Durande communicated a strange, inde-  "Where?"
finable feeling of melancholy and disquietude.  "Out yonder."
They passed no more vessels. If afar off, in  "It is the open sea there. Impossible."
the direction of Guernsey or in that of St. Malo,  And Clubin kept the vessel's head to the
any vessels were at sea outside the fog, the Du- point indicated by the passenger.
rande, submerged in the dense cloud, must have  The Guernsey man seized his spy-glass again.
been invisible to them; while her long trail of  " Captain!"
smoke, attached to nothing, looked like a black  " Well."
comet in the pale sky.                        "Tack about."
Suddenly Clubin roared out,                 "Why."
"Hang-dog! you have played us an ugly       "I am certain of having seen a very high rock
trick. You will have done us some damage just ahead. It is the Great Hanways."
before we are out of this. You deserve to be  "You have seen nothing but a thicker bank
put in irons.  Get you gone, drunkard!"     of fog."
And he seized the helm himself.             "It is the Great Hanways. Tack, in the
The steersman, humbled, shrunk away to take name of Heaven!"
part in the duties forward.                   Clubin gave the helm a turn.
The Guernsey man said,
" That will save us." 
The vessel was still making way rapidly.
Towards three o'clock, the lower part of the                 V.
fog began to clear, and they could see the sea 
again. ~.^~,~LUB./'N REACHES THE CROWNING-POINT OF
again.
A mist can only be dispersed by the sun or                 GLORY.
the wind. By the sun is well; by the wind is  A CRASH was heard. The ripping of a yesnot so well. At three o'clock in the afternoon, sel's side upon a sunken reef in open sea is the
in the month of February, the sun is always most dismal sound of which man can dream.
weak. A return of the wind at this critical The Durande's course was stopped short.
point in a voyage is not desirable. It is often  Several passengers were knocked down with
the forerunner of a hurricane.             the shock and rolled upon the deck.
If there was any breeze, however, it was   The Guernsey man raised his hands to heavscarcely perceptible.                      en:
Clubin, with his eye on the binnacle, holding  "We are on the Hanways. I predicted it."
the tiller and steering, muttered to himself some  A long cry went up from the ship:
words like the following, which reached the ears  "We are lost."
of the passengers:                            The voice of Clubin, dry and short, -i:s heard
"No time to be lost; that drunken rascal has above all:
retarded us."                                 "No one is lost. Silence!"
His visage, meanwhile, was absolutely with-  The black form of Imbrancam, naked down
-out expression.                            to the waist, issued from the hatchway of the
The sea was less calm under the mist. A  engine-room.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                              65
The negro said with self-possession,.ately. The rock, indeed, in some degree, stop"The water is gaining, Captain. The fires ped the breach and prevented the entrance of
will soon be out."                        the water. It was, at least, some obstacle;
The moment was terrible.                while the hole once freed, it would have been
The shock was like that of a suicide. If the impossible to stop the leak or to work the pumps.
disaster had been' wilfully sought, it could not To snatch a poniard from a wound in the heart
have been. more terrible. The Durande had is instant death to the victim. To free themrushed upon her fate as if she had attacked the selves from the rock would be simply to founder.
rock itself. A point had pierced her sides like  The cattle, on whom the water was gaining
a wedge. More than six feet square of plank- in the hold, were lowing piteously.
ing had gone; the stem was broken, the prow  Clubin issued orders:
smashed, and the gaping hull drank in the sea  "Launch the long-boat."
with a horrible gulping noise. It was an en-  Imbrancam and Tangrouille rushed to exetrance for wreck and ruin. The rebound was cute the order. The boat was eased from her
so violent that it had shattered the rudder pend- fastening. The rest of the crew looked on stuants; the rudder itself hung unhinged and flap- pefied.
ping. The rock had driven in her bottom.     "All hands to assist," cried Clubin.
Round about the vessel nothing wa~ visible ex-  This time all obeyed.
cept a thick, compact fog, now become sombre.  Clubin, self-possessed, continued to issue his
Night was gathering fast.                 orders in that old sea dialect, which French sailThe Durande plunged forward. It was like ors of the present day would scarcely understand.
the effort of a horse pierced through the en-  " Iaul in a rope-Get a cable if the capstan
trails by the horn of a bull. All was over with does not work-Stop heaving-Keep the blocks
her.                                      clear-Lower away there- Bring her down
Tangrouille was sobered. Nobody is drunk stern and bows-Now, then, all together, lads
in the moment of a shipwreck. He came down — Take care she don't lower stern first-There's
to the quarter-deck, went up again, and said,  too much strain on there-Hold the lanyard of
" Captain, the water is gaining rapidly in the the stock tackle-Stand by, there!"
hold. In ten minutes the water will be up to  The long-boat was launched.
the scupper-holes."                         At that instant the Durande's paddles stopped,
The passengers ran about bewildered, wring- and the smoke ceased-the fires were drowned.
ing their hands, leaning over the bulwarks, look-  The passengers slipped down the ladder, and
ing down in the engine-room, and making every dropped hurriedly into the long-boat. Imbranother sort of useless movement in their terror. cam lifted the fainting tourist, carried him into
The tourist had fainted.                  the boat, and then boarded the vessel again.
Clubin made a sign with his hand and they  The crew made a rush after the passengers;
were silent. He questioned Imbrancam:     the cabin-boy was knocked down, and the oth" How long will the engines work yet?"  ers were treading upon his body.
"Five or six minutes, sir."               Imbrancam barred their passage.
Then he interrogated the Guernsey passen-  "Not a man before the lad," he said.
ger:                                        He kept off the sailors with his two black
" I was at the helm. You saw the rock. "arms, picked up the boy, and handed him down
On which bank of the Hanways are we?"     to the Guernsey man, who was standing upright
"On the Mauve. Just now, in the opening in the boat.
in the fog, I saw it clearly."              The boy saved, Imbrancam made way for the
"If we're on the Mauve," remarked Clubin, others, and said,'
"we have the Great Hanways on the port side,  "Pass on!"
and the Little Hanways on the starboard bow;  Meanwhile Clubin had entered his cabin, and
we are a mile from the shore."            had made up a parcel containing the ship's paThe crew and passengers listened, fixing their pers and instruments. He took the compass
eyes anxiously and attentively on the Captain.  from the binnacle, handed the papers and inLightening the ship would have been of no struments to Imbrancam, and the compass to
avail, and indeed would have been hardly pos- Tangrouille, and said to them,
sible. In order to throw the cargo overboard,  "Get aboard the boat."
they would have had to open the ports, and in-  They obeyed. The crew had taken their
crease the chance of the water entering. To places before them.
cast anchor would have been equally useless:  "Now," cried Clubin, "push off."
they were stuck fast. Besides, with such a hot-  A cry arose from the long-boat,
tom for the. anchor to drag, the chain would  "What about yourself, Captain?"
probaLi; have fouled. The engines not being  "I will remain here."
injured, aV being workable as long as the fires  Shipwrecked people have little time to delibwere not extinguished, that is to say, for a few crate, and not much for indulging in tender
minutes longer, they could have made an ef- feeling. Those who were in the long-boat, and
fort, by help of steam and her paddles, to turn in comparative safety, however, felt an emotion
her astern off the rocks; but if they had sue- which was not altogether selfish. All the voices
ceeded, they must have settled down immedi- shduted together,
E




66                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
"Come with us, Captain."                ance which he had drawn upon destiny at so
"No; I remain here."                   long a date had fallen due at last.
The Guernsey man, who had some experi-    With him, to be abandoned there, was, in
ence of the sea, replied,                 fact, to be saved.
"Listen to me, Captain. You are wrecked' v He was on the Hanways, one mile from the
on the Hanways.  Swimming, you would have shore; he had about him seventy-five thousand
only a mile to cross to Pleinmont. In a boat, francs. Never was shipwreck more scientificyou can only land at Rocquaine, which is two ally accomplished. Nothing had failed. It is
miles.  There are breakers, and there is the true, everything had been foreseen. From his
fog. Our boat will not get to Rocquaine in early years Clubin had had an idea to stake his
less than two hours. It will be dark night. reputation for honesty at life's gaming-table;
The sea is rising, the wind getting fresh. A  to pass as a man of high honour, and to make
squall is at hand. We are now ready to return that reputation his fulcrum for other things; to
and bring you off; but if bad weather comes on, bide his time, to watch his opportunity; not to
that will be out of our power. You are lost if grope about blindly, but to seize boldly; to venyou stay there. Come with us."            ture on one great stroke, only one; and to end
The Parisian chimed in,                 by sweeping off the stakes, leaving fools behind
"The long-boat is full-too full, it is true, him to gape and wonder. What stupid rogues
and one more will certainly be one too many; fail in twenty times, he meant to accomplish at
but we are thirteen-a bad number for the the first blow; and while they terminated a caboat, and it is better to overload her with a man reer at the gallows, he intended to finish with a
than to take an ominous number. Come, Cap- fortune. The meeting with Rantaine had been
tain."                                    a new light to him. He had immediately laid
Tangrouille added,                      his plan —to compel Rantaine to disgorge; to
"It was all my fault, not yours, Captain. frustrate his threatened revelations by disapIt isn't fair for you to be left behind."  pearing; to make the world believe him dead,
"I have decided to remain here," said Clu- the best of all modes of concealment; and for
bin. "The vessel must inevitably go to pieces this purpose to wreck the Durande. The shipin the tempest to-night. I won't leave her. wreck was absolutely necessary to his designs.
When the ship is lost, the Captain is already Lastly, he had the satisfaction of vanishing,
dead. People shall not say I didn't do my duty leaving behind him a great renown, the crownto the end. Tangrouille, I forgive you."  ing point of his existence. As he stood mediThen, folding his arms, he cried,       tating on these things amid the wreck, Clubin
"Obey orders! Let go the cable, and push off." might have been taken for some demon in a
The long-boat swayed to and fro. Imbran- pleasant mood.
cam had seized the tiller. All the hands which  He had lived a lifetime for the sake of this
were not rowing were raised towards the Cap- one minute.
tain; every mouth cried, "Cheers for Captain  His whole exterior was expressive of the two
Clubin."                                  words-' At last." A devilish tranquillity reign" An admirable fellow!" said the American. ed in that sallow countenance.
" Sir," replied the Guernsey man, "he is  His dull eye, the depth of which generally
one of the worthiest seamen afloat."      seemed to be impenetrable, became clear and
Tangrouille shed tears.                 terrible. The inward fire of his dark spirit was
"If I had had the courage," he said, "I reflected there.
would have stayed with him."                Man's inner nature, like that external world
The long-boat pushed away, and was lost in about him, ha s its electric phenomena. An
the fog.                                  idea is like a meteor; at the moment of its
Nothing more was visible.               coming, the confused meditations which preThe beat of the oars grew fainter, and died ceded it open a way, and a spark flashes forth;
away.                                     bearing within one's self a power of evil, feeling
Clubin remained alone.                  an inward prey, brings to some minds a pleasure, which is like a sparkle of light. The tri-— ~4- - -— tumph of an evil purpose brightens up their visages. The success of certain cunning combinaVI.                    tions, the attainment of certain cherished objects,
the gratification of certain ferocious instincts,
THrE INTEIIOtR OFr  N ABYSS SUDDENLY RE- will manifest themselves in sinister but luminous
VEALED.                  appearances in their eyes. It is like a threatWHEN Clubin found himself upon this rock, ening dawn, a gleam of joy drawn out of the
in the midst of the fog and the wide waters, far heart of a storm. These flashes are generated
from all sound of human life, left for dead, in thd conscience in its states of cloud and
alone with the tide rising around him, and night darkness.
settling down rapidly, he experienced a feeling  Some such signs were then exhibiting themof profound satisfaction.                 selves in the pupils of those eyes. They were
He had succeeded.                      like nothing else that can be seen shining either
His dream was realized at last. The accept- above or here below.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               67
All Clubin's pent up wickedness found full countenance of one's own-what can be harder,
vent now.                                 what can be more torturing?  The odiousness
He gazed into the vast surrounding darkness, of hypocrisy is obscurely felt by the hypocrite
and indulged in a low, irrepressible laugh, full himself. Drinking perpetually of his own imof sinister significance.                 posture is nauseating. The sweetness of tone
He was rich at last! rici at last!      which cunning gives to scoundrelism is repugThe unknown future of his life was at length nant to the scoundrel compelled to have it ever
unfolding; the problem was solved.        in the mouth; and there are moments of nausea
Clubin had plenty of time before him. The when villainy seems on the point of vomiting its
sea was rising, and consequently sustained the secret. To have to swallow that bitter saliva
Durande, and even raised her at last a little. is horrible. Add tothis picture his profound
The vessel kept firmly in its place among the pride. There are strange moments in the hisrocks; there was no danger of her foundering. tory of such a life, when hypocrisy worships itBesides, he determined to give the long-boat self. There is always an inordinate egotism
time to get clear off-to go to the bottom, per- in roguery. The worm has the same mode of
haps. Clubin hoped it might.              gliding along as the serpent, and the same manErect upon the deck of the shipwrecked ves- ner of raising its head. The treacherous villain
sel, he folded his arms, apparently enjoying that is the despot curbed and restrained, and only
forlorn situation in the dark night.      able to attain his ends by resigning himself to
HIypocrisy had weighed upon this man for play a secondary part. He is summed-up litthirty years. He had been evil itself, yoked tleness capable of enormities. The perfect hypwith probity for a mate. He detested virtue ocrite is a Titan dwarfed.
with the feelinig of one who has been trapped  Clubin had a genuine faith that he had been
into a hateful match. He had always had a ill-used. Why had not he the right to have
wicked premeditation; from the time when he been born rich?  It was from no fault of his
attained manhood he had worn the cold and that it was otherwise. Deprived as he had been
rigid armour of appearances. Underneath this of the higher enjoyments of life, why had he
was the demon of self. He had lived like a been forced to labour-in other words, to cheat,
bandit in the disguise of an honest citizen. He to betray, to destroy? Why had he been conhad been the soft-spoken pirate; the bond-slave demned to this torture of flattering, cringing,
of honesty. He had been confined in garments fawning; to be always labouring for men's reof innocence as in oppressive mummy cloths; spect and friendship, and to wear night and day
had worn those angel wings which the devils a face which was not his own?  To be comfind so wearisome in their fallen state. He had pelled to dissimulate was in itself to submit to a
been overloaded with public esteem. It is ar- hardship. Men hate those to whom they have
duous passing for a shining light. To preserve to lie. But now the disguise was at an end.
a perpetual equilibrium amid these difficulties, Clubin had now taken his revenge.
to think evil, to speak goodness-here had been  On whom?  On all! On everything!
indeed a labour. Such a life of contradictions  Lethierry had never done him any but good
had been Clubin's fate. It had been his lot-  services; so much the greater his spleen. He
not the less onerous because he had chosen it was revenged upon Lethierry.
himself —to preserve a good exterior, to be al-  He was revenged upon all those in whose
ways presentable, to foam in secret, to smile presence he hadiMtFconstraint. It was his turn
while grinding his teeth. Virtue presented it- to be free now. Whoever had thought well of
self to his mind as something stifling. He had him was his enemy. He had felt himself their
felt, sometimes, as if he could have gnawed captive long enough.
those finger-ends which he was compelled to  Now he had broken through his prison walls.
keep before his mouth.                    His escape was accomplished. That which
To live a life which is a perpetual falsehood would be regarded as his death, would' be, in
is to suffer unknown tortures. To be premed- fact, the beginning of his life. He was about
itating indefinitely a diabolical act; to have to to begin t ie world again. The true Clubin had
assume austerity; to brood over secret infamy stripped off the false. In one' hour the spell
seasoned with outward good fame; to have con- was broken. He had kicked Rantaine into
tinually to put the world off the scent; to pre- space; overwhelmed Lethierry in ruin; human
sent a perpetual illusion, and never to be one's justice in night, and opinion in error. He had
self-is a burdensome task. To have to dip the cast off all humanity; blotted out the whole
brush in that dark stuff within, to produce with world.
it a portrait of candour; to fawn, to restrain  The name of God, that word of three letters,
and suppress one's self, to be ever on the qui vive; occupied his mind but little.
watching without ceasing, to mask latent crimes  He had passed for a religious man. What
with a face of healthy innocence; to transform  was he now?
deformity into beauty; to fashion wickedness  There are secret recesses in hypocrisy; or
into the shape of perfection; to tickle as it were rather the hypocrite is himself a secret recess.
with the point of a dagger, to put sugar with  When Clubin found himself quite alone, that
poison, to keep a bridle on every gesture and cavern in which his soul had so long lain hidden
a watch over every tone, not even to have a was opened. He enjoyed a moment of delicious




68                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
liberty. He revelled for that moment in the ing upon a platform in the market-place, with
open air. He gave vent to himself in one long the collar of iron round his neck, is master of
breath.                                     all the glances which he constrains the multiThe depth of evil within him revealed itself tude to turn towards him. There is a pedestal
in his visage. He expanded, as it were, with on yonder scaffolding. To be there-the cendiabolicaljoy. The features of Rantaine by the tre of universal observation-is not this, too, a
side of his at that moment would have shown triumph?  To direct the pupil of the public
like the innocent expression of a new-born child. eye, is this not another form of supremacy?
What a deliverance was this plucking off of For those who worship an ideal wickedness, opthe old mask. His conscience rejoiced in the probrium is glory.  It is a height from whence
sight of its own monstroushtakJedness, as it step- they can look down; a superiority at least of
ped forth to take its hideous bath of wickedness. some kind; a pre-eminence in which they can
The lori restraint of men's respect seemed to display themselves royally. A gallows standing
have given him a peculiar relish for infamy. high in the gaze of all the world is not without
He experienced a certain lascivious enjoyment some analogy with a throne. To be exposed is,
of wickedness.  In those frightful moral abysses at least, to be seen and studied.
so rarely sounded, such natures find atrocious  Herein we have evidently the key to the wickdelights-they are the obscenitiesf of rascality. ed reigns of history. Nero burning Rome, Louis
The long-endured insipidity of the false reputa- Quatorze treacherously seizing the Palatinate,
tion for virtue gave him an appetite for shame. the Prince Regent killing Napoleon slowly,
In this state of mind, men disdain their fellows Nicholas strangling Poland before the eyes of
so much that they even long for the contempt the civilized world, may have felt something
which marks the ending of their unmerited akin to Clubin's joy. Universal execration debondage. They feel a satisfaction in the free- rives a grandeur even from its vastness.
dom of degradation, and cast an eye of envy at  To be unmasked is a humiliation; but to unbaseness, sitting at its ease, clothed in ignominy mask one's self is a triumph. There is an inand shame. Eyes that are forced to droop mod- toxication in the position, an insolent satisfacestly are familiar with these stealthy glances at tion in its contempt for appearances, a flaunting
sin. From Messalina to Marie-Alacoque the insolence in the nakedness with which it affronts
distance is not great. Remember the histories the decencies of life.
of La Cadiere and the nun of Louviers. Clu-   These ideas in a hypocrite appear to be inbin, too, had worn the veil. Effrontery had al- consistent, but in reality are not. All infamy
ways been the object of his secret admiration. is logical. Honey is gall. A character like
IHe envied the painted courtesan, and the face that of Escobar has some affinity with that of
of bronze of the professional ruffian. He felt a the Marquis de Sade. In proof, we have Leopride in surpassing her in artifices, and a disgust tade. A hypocrite, being a personification of
for the trick of passing for a saint. He had been vice complete, includes in himself the two poles
the Tantalus of Cynicism. And now, upon this of perversity. - Priest-like on one side, he rerock, in the midst of this solitude, he could be sembles the courtesan on the other.  The sex
frank and open. A bold plunge into wickedness of his diabolical nature is double. It engenders
-what a'voluptuous sense of relief it'brought and transforms itself. Would you see it in its
with it. All the delights known to the fallen pleasing shape?  Look at it. Would you see
angels are summed up in this; and Clubin felt it horrible?  Turn it round.
them at that moment. The long arrears of      All this multitude of ideas was floating condissimulations were paid at last.  Hypocrisy is fusedly in Clubin's mind. He analyzed them
an investment; the devil reimburses it. Clu- little, but he felt them much.
bin gave himself up to the intoxication of the  A whirlwind of flakes of fire, borne up from
idea, having no longer any eye upon him but the pit of hell into the dark night, might fitly
that of Heaven. He whispered within himself, represent the wild succession of ideas in his
"*I am a scoundrel," and felt profoundly satis- soul.
fled.                                         Clubin remained thus some time, pensive and
Never had human conscience experienced motionless.   He looked down upon his cast-off
such a full tide of emotions.              virtues as a serpent on its old skin.
He was glad to be entirely alone, and yet  Every body had had faith in that virtue;
would not have been sorry to have had some even he himself a little.
one there. He would have been pleased to      He laughed again.
have had a witness of his fiendish joy-gratified  Society would imagine him dead, while he
to have had opportunity of saying'to society, was rich. They would believe him drowned,
"Thou fool!"                               while he was saved. What a capital trick to
The solitude, indeed, assured his triumph, but have played off on the stupidity of the world.
it made it less.                              Rantaine, too, was included in that universal
He was not himself to be spectator of his stupidity.  Clubin thought of Rantaine with an
glory. Even to be in the pillory has its satis- unmeasured disdain: the disdain of the marfaction, for everybody can see your infamy.  ten for the tiger. The trick had failed with
To compel the crowd to stand and gape is, in Rantaine-it had succeeded with him, Clubin.
fact, an exercise of power. A malefactor stand, Rantaine had slunk away abashed; Clubin dis



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               69
appeared in triumph. lie had substituted him-  Clubin had mistaken his course in the dense
self for Rantaine-stepped between him and his mist. Notwithstanding all his pains, he had
mistress, and carried off her favours.    experienced the fate of two other great navigaAs to the future, he had no well-settled plan. tors-Gonzalez, who discovered Cape Blanco,
In the iron tobacco-box in his girdle he had and Fernandez, who discovered Cape Verde.
the three bank-notes. The knowledge of that The fog had bewildered him. It had seemed
fact was enough. He would change his name. to him, in the confidence of his seamanship, to
There are plenty of countries where sixty thou- favour admirably the execution of his project;
sand francs are equal to,six hundred thousand. but it had its perils. In veering to westward
It would be no bad solution to go to one of those he had lost his reckoning.. The Guernsey man,
corners of the world, and live there honestly on who fancied that he recognized the Hanways,
the money disgorged by that scoundrel Ran- had decided his fate, and determined him to
taine. To speculate, to embark in commerce, give the final turn to the tiller. Clubin had
to increase his capital, to become really a mil- never doubted that he had steered the vessel on
lionaire, that, too, would be no bad termination'the Hanways.
to his career.                              The Durande, stove in by one of the sunken
For example, the great.trade in coffee from  rocks of the group, was only separated from the
Costa Rica was just beginning to be developed. two Douvres by a few cables' lengths.
There were heaps of gold to be made there. He  At two hundred fathoms farther was a masswould see.                                ive block of granite. Upon the steep sides of
It was of little consequence. He had plenty this rock were some hollows and small projecof time to think of it. The hardest part of the tions which might help a man to climb. The
enterprise was accomplished.  Stripping Ran- square corners of those rude walls at right antaine, and disappearing with the wreck of the gles indicated the existence of a plateau on the
Durande, were the grand achievements. All summit.
the rest was for him simple. No obstacle hence-  It was the height known by the name of
forth was likely to stop him. He had nothing "The Man."
more to fear. He could reach the shore with  "The Man" rock rose even higher still than
certainty by swimming. He would land at the Douvres. Its platform commanded a view
Pleinmont in the darkness; ascend the cliffs; over their two inaccessible peaks. This platgo straight to the old haunted house; enter it form, crumbling at its egdes, had every kind of
easily by the help of the knotted cord, concealed irregularity of shape. No place more desolate
beforehand in a crevice of the rocks; would find or more dangerous could be imagined. The
in the house his travelling-bag, containing pro- hardly perceptible waves of the open sea lapped
visions and dry clothing. There he could await gently against the square sides of that dark,
his opportunity. He had information. A week enormous mass-a sort of resting-place for the
would not pass without the Spanish smugglers, vast spectres of the sea and darkness.
Blasquito probably, touching at Pleinmont. For  All around was calm. Scarcely a breath of
a few guineas he would obtain a passage, not to air or a ripple. The mind guessed darkly the
Torbay-as he had said to Blasco, to confound hidden life and vastness of the depths beneath
conjecture, and put him off the scent-but to, that quiet surface.
Bilbao or Passages. Thence he could get to   Clubin had often seen the Douvres from
Vera Cruz or New Orleans. But the moment afar.
had come for taking to the water. The long-  He satisfied himself that he was indeed there.
boat was far enough by this time. An hour's  He could not doubt it.
swimming was nothing for Clubin. The dis-   A sudden and hideous change of affairs. The
tance of a mile only separated him from the Douvres instead of the Hanways. Instead of
land, as he was on the Hanways.           one mile, five leagues of sea! The Douvres to
At this point in Clubin's meditations, a clear the solitary shipwrecked sailor is the visible and
opening appeared in the fog-bank. The formi- palpable presence of death-the extinction of
dable Douvres rocks stood before him.     all hope of reaching land.
Clubin shuddered. He had placed himself
*~ —- ~ —  ~     voluntarily in the jaws of destruction. No other refuge was left him than "(The Man" rock.
VII.                    It was probable that a tempest would arise in
AN UNEXPECTED DENOUEMENT.          the night, and that the long-boat, overloaded as
she was, would sink. No news of the shipCLUBIN, haggard, stared straight ahead,  wreck then would come to land. It would not
It was indeed those terrible and solitary rocks. even be known that Clubin had been left upon
It was impossible to mistake their misshapen the Douvres. No prospect was now before him
outlines. The two twin Douvres reared their but death from cold and hunger. His seventyforms aloft, hideously revealing the passage be- five thousand, francs would not purchase him a
tween them like a snare-a cut-throat in am- mouthful of bread. All the scaffolding he had
bush in the ocean.                        built up had brought him only to this snare.
They were quite close to him. The fog, like He alone was the laborious architect of this
an artful accomplice, had hidden them until now. crowning catastrophe. No resource-no possi



70                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
ble escape; his triumph transformed into a fa-  In a moment like this, a man thinks at first
tal precipice. Instead of deliverance, a prison; of nothing but his life.
instead of the long prosperous future, agony.  The cutter was probably a strange craft.
In the glance of an eye, in the moment which Might it not be one of the smuggling vessels on
the lightning occupies in passing, all his con- its way to Pleinmont?  It might even be Blasstruction had fallen into ruins. The paradise qiito himself. In that case, not only life, but
dreamed of by this demon had changed to its fortune would be saved; and the accident of
true form of a sepulchre.                  the Douvres, by hastening the conclusion, by
Meanwhile there had sprung up a, movement dispensing with the necessity for concealment in
in the air. The wind was rising. The fog, the haunted house, and by bringing the advenshaken, driven in, and torn, moved towards the ture to a denouement at sea, would be turned
horizon'in vast shapeless masses. As quickly into a happy incident.
as it had disappeared before, the sea became  All his original confidence of success returned
once more visible.                         fanatically to his sombre mind.
The cattle, more and more invaded by the    It is remarkable how easily knaves are perwaters, continued to bellow in the hold.    suaded that they deserve to succeed.
Night was approaching, probably bringing    There was but one course.to take.
with it a storm.                              The Durande, entangled among the rocks,
The Durande, filling slowly with the rising necessarily mingled her outline with them, and
tide, swung from right to left, then from left to confounded herself with their irregular shapes,
right, and began to turn upon the rock as upon among which she formed only one more mass
a pivot,                                   of lines. Thus become indistinct and lost, she
The moment could be forieseen when a wave would not suffice, in the little light which remust move her from her fixed position, and mained, to attract the attention of the crew of
probably roll her over on her beam-ends.   the vessel which was approaching.
It was not even so dark as at the instant of  But a human form standing up, black against
her striking the rocks. Though the day was the pale twilight of the sky, upon "the Man
more advanced, it was possible to see more Rock," and making signs of distress, would
clearly. The fog had carried away with it some doubtless be perceived, and the cutter would
part of the darkness. The west was without a then send a boat to take the shipwrecked man
cloud. Twilight brings a pale sky. Its vast aboard.
reflection glimmered on the sea.              "The Man" was only two hundred fathoms
The. Durande's bows were lower than her off.   To reach it by swimming was simple, to
stern.  Her stern was, in fact, almost out of climb it easy.
the water. Clubin mounted on her taffrail,    There was not a minute to lose.
and fixed his eyes on the horizon.            The bows of the Durande being low between
It is the nature of hypocrisy to be sanguine. the rocks, it was from the height of the poop
The hypocrite is one who waits his opportunity. where Clubin stood that he had to jump into
Hypocrisy is nothing, in fact, but a horrible the sea. He began by taking a sounding, and
hopefulness; the very foundation of its revolt- discovered that there was great depth just under
ing falsehood is composed of that virtue trans- the stern of the wrecked vessel.  The microformed into a vice.                        scopic shells of foraminifera which the adhesive
Strange contradiction.  There is a certain matter on the lead-line brought up were intact,
trustfulness in hypocrisy. The hypocrite con- indicating the presence of very hollow caves
fides in some power, unrevealed even to himself, under the rocks, in which the water was tranwhich permits the course of evil.          quil, however great the agitation of the surface.
Clubin looked far and wide over the ocean.  He undressed, leaving his clothing on the
The position was desperate, but that evil spir- deck. He knew that he would be able to get
it did not yet despair.                     clothing when aboard the cutter.
He knew that after the fog, vessels that had  He retained nothing but his leather belt.
been lying-to or riding at anchor would resume  As soon as he was stripped, he placed his
their course; and he thought that perhaps one hand upon this belt, buckled it more securely,
would pass within the horizon.             felt for the iron tobacco-box, took a rapid surAnd, as he had anticipated, a sail appeared.  vey in the direction which he would have to
She was coming from the east and steering follow among the breakers and the waves to
towards the west.                           gain "the Man Rock;" then precipitating himAs it approached, the cut of the vessel be- self head first, he plunged into the sea.
came visible. It had but one mast, and was   As he dived from a height, he plunged heavily.
schooner rigged. Her bowsprit was almost hor-  He sank deep in the water, touched the botizontal: It was a cutter.                  tom, skirted for a moment the submarine rocks,
Before half an hour she must pass not very then struck out to regain the surface.
far from the Douvres.                         At that moment he felt himself seized by
Clubin said within himself, "I am saved!"  one foot.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               71
BOOK VII.
THIE DANGER OF OPENING A BOOK AT RANDOM.
1^~I.     ~      the coming of the Durande; to see her get
under way, or steer again into the port. What
THE PEARL AT THE E0OOT OP A PRECIPICE.
HE PEAL  T TE FOOTO   PECIPICE.  was a remainder of existence without object?
A FEW moments after his short colloquy To drink, to eat, and then?  He had crowned
with Sieur Landoys, Gilliatt was at St. Samp- the labours of his life by a masterpiece: won
son.                                      by his devotion a new step in civilization. The
He was troubled, even anxious. What could step was lost; the masterpiece destroyed. To
it be that had happened?                 live a few vacant years longer! where would
There was a murmur in St. Sampson like be the good?  Henceforth nothing was left for
that of a startled hive. Everybody was at his him to do. At his age men do not begin life
door. The women were talking loud. There anew.    Besides, he was ruined;. Poor old
were people who seemed relating some occur- man!
rence, and who were gesticulating. A group  Deruchette, sitting near him on a chair and
had gathered around them. The words could weeping, held one of Mess Lethierry's hands in
be heard, "What a misfortune!"  Some faces hers. Her hands were joined; his hand was
wore a smile.                             clenched fast. It was the sign of the shade
Gilliatt interrogated no one. It was not in of difference in their two sorrows. In joined
his nature to ask questions. He was, more- hands there is still some token of hope, in the
over, too much moved to speak to strangers. clenched fist none.
He had no confidence in rumours. He pre-    Mess Lethierry gave up his arm to her, and
ferred to go direct to the Bravees.       let her do with it what she pleased. He was
His anxiety was so great that he was not passive. Struck down by a thunderbolt, he had
even deterred from entering the house.    scarcely a spark of life left within him.
The door of the great lower room opening  There is a degree of overwhelmment which
upon the Quay, moreover, stood wide open. abstracts the mind entirely from its fellowship
There was a swarm of men and women on the with man.   The forms which come and go
threshold.  Everybody was going in, and Gil- within your room become confused and indisliatt went with the rest.                 tinct.  They pass by, even touch you, but
Entering, he found Sieur Landoys standing never really come near you.  You are far
near the door-posts.                      away; inaccessible to them, as they to you.
"You have heard, no doubt, of this event?" The intensities of joy and despair differ in this.
"No."                                   In despair, we take cognizance of the world
"I did not like to call it out to you on the only as something dim and afar off; we are inroad. It makes one like a bird of evil omen."  sensible to the things before our eyes; we lose
"What has happened?"                   the feeling of our own existence. It is in vain,
"The Durande is lost."                  at. such times, that we are flesh and blood; our
There was a crowd in the great room.    consciousness of life is none the more real; we
The various groups spoke low, like people in are become, even to ourselves, nothing but a
a sick-chamber.                           dream.
The assemblage, which consisted of neigh-  Mess Lethierry's gaze indicated that he had
bours, the first comers, curious to learn the reached this state of absorption.
news, huddled together near the door with a  The various groups were whispering together.
sort of timidity, leaving clear the bottom of the They exchanged information as far as they had
room, where appeared Deruchette sitting and gathered it. This was the substance' of their
in tears. Mess Lethierry stood beside her.  news.
His back was against the wall at the end of  The Durande had been wrecked the day bethe room. His sailor's cap came down over, fore in the fog on the Douvres, about an hour
his eyebrows, A lock of gray hair hung upon before sunset. With the exception of the caphis cheek. He said'nothing. His arms were tain, who refused to leave his vessel, the crew
motionless; he seemed scarcely to breathe. and passengers had all escaped in the long-boat.
He had the look of something lifeless placed' A squall from the south-west springing up as
against the wall.                         the fog had cleared, had almost wrecked them
It was easy to see in his aspect a man whose a second time, and had carried them out to sea
life had been crushed within him. The Du- beyond Guernsey. In the night they had had
rande being gone, Lethierry had no longer any the good fortune to meet with the "Cashmere,"
object in his existence. He had had a being which had taken them aboard and landed them
on the sea; that being had suddenly foundered. at St. Peter's Port. The disaster was entirely
What could he do now? Rise every morning; the fault of the steersman Tangrouille, who was
go to sleep every night. Never more to await in prison. Clubin had behaved nobly.




72                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
The pilots, who had mustered in great force, project abroad to carry him through the town
pronounced the words "The Douvres" with a in triumph.
peculiar emphasis. "A dreary half-way house,  Two things appeared certain fromr the narthat," said one.                           rative of the captain: Clubin was saved; the
A compass and a bundle of registers and Durande lost.,
memorandum-books lay on the table; they were  As regarded the Durande, there was nothing
doubtless the compass of the Durande and the for it but to accept the fact; the catastrophe was
ship's papers, handed by Clubin to Imbrancam  irremediable. The captain of the "Shealtiel"
and Tangrouille at the moment of the departure had witnessed the last moments of the wreck.
of the long-boat. They were the evidences of The sharp rock on which the vessel had been,
the magnificent self-abnegation of that man who as it were, nailed, had held her fast during the
had busied himself with saving these documents night, and resisted the shock of the tempest as
even in the presence of death itself-a little in- if reluctant to part with its prey; but in the
cident full of moral grandeur; an instance of morning, at the moment when the captain of
sublime self-forgetfulness never to be forgotten. the " Shealtiel" had convinced himself that there
They were unanimous in their admiration of was no one on board to be saved, and was about
Clubin; unanimous also in believing him to be to wear off again, one of those seas which are
saved after all.  The "Shealtiel" cutter had like the last angry blows of a tempest had struck
arrived some hours after the "Cashmere."  It her. The wave lifted her violently from her
was this vessel which brought the last items of place, and with the swiftness and directness of
intelligence.  She had passed four-and-twenty an arrow from a bow had thrown her against the
hours in the same waters as the Durande. She two Douvres rocks.  "An infernal crash was
had lain-to in the fog, and tacked about during heard," said the captain. The vessel, lifted by
the squall.. The captain of the " Shealtiel" was the wave to a certain height, had plunged bepresent among the company.                 tween the two rocks up to her midship frame.
This captain had just finished his narrative to She had stuck fast again, but more firmly than
Lethierry as Gilliatt entered.  The narrative on the submarine rocks.  She must have rewas a true one. Towards the morning, the mained there suspended, and exposed to every
storm having abated. and the wind becoming wind and sea.
manageable, the captain of the " Shealtiel" had  The Durande, according to the statements of
heard the lowing of oxen in the open sea. This the crew of the " Shealtiel," was already three
rural sound in the midst of the waves had natu- parts broken up.  She would evidently have
rally startled him. He steered in that direction, foundered during the night if the rocks had not
and perceived the Durande among the Douvres. kept her up. The captain of the "Shealtiel"
The sea had sufficiently subsided for him to ap- had watched her a long time with his spy-glass.
proach. He hailed the wreck; the bellowing of He gave, with naval precision, the details of her
the cattle was the sole reply. The captain of the disaster.  The starboard quarter beaten in, the
" Shealtiel" was confident that there was no one masts maimed, the sails blown from the boltaboard the Durande. t The wreck still held to- ropes, the shrouds torn away, the cabin skygether well, and, notwithstanding the violence lights smashed by the falling of one of the
of the squall, Clubin could have passed the night booms, the dome of the cuddy-house beaten in,
there. He was not the man to leave go his hold the chocks of the long-boat struck away, the
very easily. He was not there, however; and round-house overturned, the hinges of the rudtherefore he must have been rescued. It was der broken, the trusses wrenched away, the quarcertain that several sloops and luggers, from  ter-cloths demolished, the bits gone, the crossGranville and St. Malo, must, after laying-to in beam destroyed, the shear-rails knocked off, the
the fog on the previous evening, have passed stern-post broken. As to the parts of the cargo
pretty near the rocks.  It was evident that one made fast before the foremast, all destroyed,
of these had taken Clubin aboard. It was to be made a clean sweep of, gone to ten thousand
remembered that the long-boat of the Durande shivers, with top ropes, iron pulleys, and chains.
was full when it left the unlucky vessel; that The Durande had broken her back; the sea
it was certain to encounter great risks; that anA now must break her up piecemeal. In a few
other man aboard would have overloadedlier, days there would be nothing of her remaining.
and perhaps caused her to founder; and that   It appeared that the engine was scarcely inthese circumstances had no doubt weighed with jured by all these ravages-a remarkable fact,
Clubin in coming to his determination to remain and one which proved its excellence. The capon the wreck. His duty, however, once fulfilled, tain of the " Shealtiel" thought he could affirm
and a vessel at hand, Clubin assuredly would not that the crank had received no serious injury.
have scrupled to avail himself of its aid. A  The vessel's masts had given way, but the funhero is not necessarily an idiot. The idea of a nel had resisted everything.  Only the iron
suicide was absurd in connection with a man of guards of the captain's gangway were twisted;
Clubin's irreproachable character. The culprit, the paddle-boxes had suffered; the fiames were
too, was Tangrouille,- not Clubin. All this was bruised, but the paddles had not a float missing.
conclusive. The captain of the "ShealtieI" was The machinery was intact.  Such was the conevidently right, and everybody expected to see viction of the captain of the " Shealtiel."  ImClubin reappear very shortly. There was a brancam, the engineer, who was among the




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 73
crowd, had the same conviction. The negro, In the first gale the chains of the anchors would
more intelligent than. many of his white corn- be worn away and snapped upon the submarine
panions, was proud of his engines.  He lifted peaks, and the vessel must be shattered on the
up his arms, opening the ten fingers of his rocks. That would be to send a second shipblack hands, and said to Lethierry, as he sat wreck to the relief of the first.  On the miserthere silent, "Master, the machinery is alive able narrow height where the legend of the
still!"                                   place described the shipwrecked sailor as having
The safety of Clubin seeming certain, and perished of hunger, there was scarcely room for
the hull of the Durande being already sacri- one person. To save the engines, therefore,
ficed, the engines became the topic of conversa- it would be necessary for a man to go to the
tion among the crowd. They took an interest Douvres, to be alone in that sea, alone in that
in it as in a living thing.  They felt a delight desert, alone at five leagues from the coast,
in praising its good qualities.  "That's what I alone in that region of terrors, alone for entire
call a well-built machine," said a French sailor. weeks, alone in the presence of dangers foreseen
" Something like a good one," cried a Guern- and unforeseen-without supplies in the face of
sey fisherman.  "She must have some good hunger and nakedness, without succour in the
stuff in her," said the captain of the "Sheal- time of distress, without token of human life
tiel," " to come out of that affair with only a around him save the bleached bones of the misfew scratches."                             erable being who had perished there in his misBy degrees the machinery of the Durande ery, without companionship save that of death.
became the absorbing object of their thoughts. And besides, how was it possible to extricate
Opinions were warm for and against.  It had the machinery?  It would require not only a
its enemies and its friends.  More than one sailor, butan engineer; and for what trials must
who possessed a good old sailing cutter, and he not prepare?  The man who would attempt
who hoped to get a share of the business of the such a task must be more than a hero. He
Durande, was not sorry to find that the Douvres must be a madman; for in certain enterprises,
rock had disposed of the new invention. The in which superhuman power appears necessary,
whispering became louder. The discussion grew  there is a sort of madness which is more potent
noisy, though the hubbub was evidently a little than courage. And after all, would it not be
restrained; and now' and then there was a si- folly to immolate one's self for a pass of rusted
multaneous lowering of voices out of respect to iron?  No; it was certain that nobody would
Lethierry's death like silence.             undertake to go to the Douvres on such an erThe result of the colloquy, so obstinately rand. The engine must be abandoned like the
maintained on all sides, was as follows:    rest. The engineer for such a task would asThe engines were the vital part of the vessel. suredly not be forthcoming. Where, indeed,
To rescue the Durande was impossible; but the should they look for such a man?
machinery might still be saved. These engines  All this, or similar observations, formed the
were unique.  To construct others similar, the substance of the confused conversations of the
money was wanting; but to find the artificer crowd.
would have been still more difficult.  It was  The captain of the "Shealtiel," who had
remembered that the constructor of the ma- been a pilot, summed up the views of all by
chinery was dead. It had cost forty thousand exclaiming aloud,
francs. No one would risk again such a sum    "No; it is all over. The man does not exupon such a chance, particularly as it was now ist who could go there and rescue the machindiscovered that steam-boats could be lost like ery of the Durande."
other vessels. The accident of the Durande    "If I don't go," said Imbrancam, " it is bedestroyed the prestige of all her previous suc- cause nobody could do it."
cess.  Still, it was deplorable to think that at  The captain of the " Shealtiel" shook his left
that very moment this valuable mechanism was hand in the air with that sudden movement
still entire and in good condition, and that in which expresses a conviction that a thing is imfive or six days it would probably go to pieces, possible.
like the vessel herself. As long as this existed,  "If he existed-" continued the captain.
it might almost be said that there was no ship-  Deruchette turned her head impulsively, and
wreck. The loss of the engines was alone irre- interrupted.
parable.  To save the machinery would be al-  "I would marry him," she said, innocently.
most to repair the disaster.                  There was a pause.
Save the machinery! It was easy to talk of  A man made his way out of the crowd, and
it, but who would undertake to do it? Was standing before her, pale and anxious, said,
it possible, even?  To scheme and to execute  "You would marry him, Miss Deruchette?"
are two different things; as different as to dream  It was Gilliatt.
and to do. Now if ever a dream had appeared   All eyes were turned towards him. Mess
wild and impracticable, it was that of saving the Lethierry had just before stood upright, and
engines then imbedded between the Douvres. gazed about him.   His eyes glittered with a
The idea of sending a ship and a crew to work strange light.
upon those rocks was absurd.  It could not be  He took off his sailor's cap and threw it on
thought of. It was the season of heavy seas. the ground; then looked solemnly before him,




74                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
and without seeing any of the persons present, and in the direction of North Rock and the Jasaid,                                     blonneuse, a sail being hoisted. He paid little
"Deruchette should be his. I pledge my- attention to the circumstance, not being a seaself to it in God's name."                man, but a carter of seaweed.
Half an hour had perhaps elapsed since the
-—.0 —-  ~      carter had perceived this vessel, when a plasterer
returning from his work in the town, and passing
II.                    round Pelee Pool, found himself suddenly opposite a vessel sailing boldly among the rocks
MUCH ASTONISHMENT ON THE WESTERN COAST. of the Quenon, the Rousse de Mer, and the
THE full moon rose at ten o'clock on the fol- Gripe de Rousse. The night was dark, but the
lowing night; but, however fine the night, how- sky was light over the sea, an effect common
ever favourable the wind and sea, no fisherman enough; and he could distinguish a great disthought of going out that evening either from  tance in every direction. There was no sail
Hogue la Perre, or Bourdeaux harbour, or Hbu- visible except this vessel.
met Benet, or Platon, or Port Grat, or Vazon  A little lower, a gatherer of cray-fish, preparBay, or Perrelle Bay, or Pezeries, or the Tielles ing his fish-wells on the beach which separates
or Saints' Bay, or Little Bo, or any other port Port Soif from the Point Enfer, was puzzled to
or little harbour in Guernsey; and the reason make out the movements of a vessel between the
was very simple. A cock had been heard to Boue Corneille and the Moubrette. The. man
crow at noonday.                          must have been a good pilot, and in great haste
When the cock is heard to crow at an extraor- to reach some destination to risk his boat there.
dinary hour, fishing is suspended.          Just as eight o'clock was striking at the CaAt dusk on that evening, however, a fisher- tel, the tavern-keeper at Cobo Bay observed with
man returning to Omptolle met with a remark- astonishment a sail out beyond the Boue du Jarable adventure. On the height above Houmet din and the Grunettes, and very near the SuParadis, beyond the Two Brayes and the two sanne and the Western Grunes.
Grunes, stands to the left the beacon of the  Not far fiom Cobo Bay, upon the solitary
Plattes Tougeres, representing a tub reversed; point of the Houmet of Vason Bay, two lovers
and to the right, the beacon of. St. Sampson, were lingering, hesitating before they parted for
representing the face of a man. Between these the night. The young woman addressed the
two, the fisherman thought that he perceived young man with the words, " I am not going befor the first time a third beacon. What could cause I don't care to stay with you: I've a great
be the meaning of this beacon? When had it deal to do."  Their farewell kiss was interruptbeen erected on that point? What shoal did it ed by a good-sized sailing-boat which passed
indicate? The beacon responded immediately very near them, making for the direction of the
to these interrogations. It moved. It was a Messellettes.
mast. The astonishment of the fisherman did'Monsieur le Peyre des Norgiots, an inhabitnot diminish. A beacon would have been re- ant of Cotillon Pipet, was engaged about nine
markable; a mast was still more so: it could o'clock in the evening in examining a hole made
not be a fishing-boat. When everybody else by some trespassers in the hedge of his property
was returning, some boat was going out. Who called La Jennerotte, and his "'friquet planted
could it be? and what was he about?     with trees." Even while ascertaining the amount
Ten minutes later, the vessel, moving slowly, of the damage, he could not help observing a
came within a short distance of the Omptolle fishing-boat audaciously making its way round
fisherman. He did not recognise it. He heard the Crocq Point at that hour of night.
the sound of rowing: there were evidently only  On the morrow of a tempest, when there is
two oars. There was probably, then, only one always some agitation upon the sea, that route
man aboard. The wind was northerly. The was hardly safe. It was rash to choose it, at
man, therefore, was evidently paddling along in least, unless the steersman knew all the chanorder to take the wind off Point Fontenelle. nels by heart.
There he would probably take to his sails. He  At half past nine o'clock, at L'Equerrier, a
intended then to double the Aucresse and Mount trawler carrying home his net stopped for a time
Crevel. What could that mean?            to observe between Colombelle and the SouflerThe vessel passed, the fisherman returned esse something which looked like a boat. The
home. On that same night, at different hours, boat was in a dangerous position. Sudden gusts
and at different points, various persons scattered of wind of a very dangerous kind are very comand isolated on the western coast of Guernsey mon in that spot. The Sovuferesse, or Blower,
observed certain facts.                   derives its name fiom the sudden gusts of wind
As the Omptolle fisherman was mooring his which it seems to direct upon the vessels which
bark, a carter of seaweed about half a mile off, by rare chance find their way thither.
whipping his horses along the lonely road from  At the moment when the moon was rising,
the Clotures, near the Druid stones, and in the the tide being high and the sea being quiet, in
neighbourhood of the Martello Towers 6 and 7, the little strait of Li-Hou, the solitary keeper of
saw far off at sea, in a part little frequented, be- the island of Li-Hou was considerably startled.
cause it requires much knowledge of the waters, A long black object slowly passed between the




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               75
ihoon and him. This dark form, high and nar- north-west of the Boue Blondel, and was lost in
row, resembled a winding-sheet spread out and the pale mists of the horizon out at sea.
moving. It glided along the line of the top of  "Where the'devil can that boat be sailing?"
the wall formed by the ridges of rock. The asked the smuggler.
keeper of Li-Hou fancied that he had beheld the  That same evening, a little after sunset, some
Black Lady.                               one had been heard knocking at the door of
The White Lady inhabits the Tau de Pez the old house of the Bf de la Rue. It was a
d'Amont; the Gray Lady, the Tau de Pez boy wearing brown clothes and yellow stockd'Aval; the Red Lady, the Silleuse, to the north ings, a fact that indicated that he was a little
of the Marquis Bank; and the Black Lady, the parish clerk. An old fisherwoman prowling
Grand Etacre, to the west of Li-Houmet. At about the shore with a lantern in her hand had
night, when the moon shines, these ladies stalk called to the boy, and this dialogue ensued beabroad, and sometimes meet.               tween the fisherwoman and the little clerk beThat dark form might undoubtedly be a sail. fore the entrance to the Bu de la Rue:
The long groups of rocks on which she appeared  "What d'ye want, lad?"
to be walking might in fact be concealing the  "The man of this place."
hull of a bark navigating behind them, and al-  "He's not there."
lowing only her sail to be seen. But the keeper  "Where is he?"
asked himself, what bark would dare, at that  "I don'tiknow."
hour, to venture herself between Li-Hou and the  "Will he be there to-morrow?"
Pecheresses, and the Angullieres and Leree   "I don't know."
Point? And what object could she have? It    "Is he gone away?"
seemed to him much more probable that it was  "I don't know."
the Black Lady.                               I've come, good woman, from the new rector
As the moon was passing the clock-tower of of the parish, the Reverend Ebenezer Caudray,
St. Peter in the Wood,. the sergeant at Castle who desires to pay him a visit."
Rocquaine, while in the act of raising the draw-  "I don't know where he is."
bridge of the castle, distinguished at the end of  "The rector sent me to ask if the man who
the bay beyond the Haute Canee, but nearer lives at the Bu de la Rue would be at home tothanthe Sambule, a sailing vessel which seemed morrow morning."
to be steadily dropping down from north to   "I don't know."
south.
On the southern coast of Guernsey, behind
Pleinmont, in the curve of a bay composed entirely of precipices and rocky walls rising peak-            III.
shaped from the sea, there is a singular landingplace, to which a French gentleman, a resident   A QUOTATION FROM THE BIBLE
of the island since 1855, has given the name of  DURING the twenty-four hours which fol"The Port on the Fourth Floor," a name now lowed, Mess Lethierry slept not, ate nothing,
generally adopted. This port, or landing-place, drank nothing. He kissed Deruchette on the
which was then called the Moie, is a rocky pla- forehead; asked after Clubin, of whom there was
teau half formed by nature, half by art, raised as yet no news; signed a declaration certified
about forty feet above the level of the waves, and that he had no intention of preferring a charge
communicating with the water by two large against any one, and set Tangrouille at liberty.
beams laid parallel in the form of an inclined  All the morning of the next day he remained
plane. The fishing vessels are hoisted up there half supporting himself on the table of the ofby chains and pulleys from the sea, and are let fice of the Durande, neither standing nor sitting;
down again in the same way along these beams, answering kindly when any one spoke to him.
which are like two rails. For the fishermen Curiosity being satisfied, the Bravees had bethere is a ladder. The port was, at the time of come a solitude. There is a good deal of cuour story, much frequented by the smugglers. riosity generally mingled with the haste of conBeing difficult of access, it was well suited to dolences. The door had closed again, and left
their purposes.                           the old man again alone with Deruchette. The
Towards eleven o'clock, some smugglers-  strange light that had shone in Lethierry's eyes
perhaps the same upon whose aid Clubin had was extinguished. The mournful look which
counted-stood with their bales of goods on the filled them after the first news of the disaster
summit of this platform of the Moie. A smug- had returned.
gler is necessarily a man on the look-out-it is  Deruchette, anxious for his sake, had, on the
part of his business to watch. They were aston- advice of Grace and Douce, laid silently beside
ished to perceive a sail suddenly make its ap- him a pair of stockings, which he had been
pearance beyond the dusky outline of Cape knitting, sailor fashion, when the bad news had
Pleinmont. It was moonlight. The smugglers arrived.
observed the sail narrowly, suspecting that it  He smiled bitterly, and said,
might be some coast-guard cutter about to lie in  They must think me foolish."
ambush behind the Great Hanways. But the    After a quarter of an hour's silence, he addsail left the Hanways behind, passed to the ed,




76                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
"These things are well when you are happy." was haughty, precise, stiff, and commanding.
Deruchette carried away the stockings, and His inner sight scarcely penetrated outwardly.
took advantage of the opportunity to remove He possessed the spirit in the place of tie letter.
also the compass and the ship's papers which His manner was arrogant; his presence imposLethierry had been biooding over too long.  ing.  He had less the appearance of a " ReverIn the afternoon, a little before tea-time, the end" than of a Monsignore. His'frock-coat was
door opened; and two strangers entered, attired cut somewhat in the fashion of a cassock. His
in black. One was old, the other young.    true centre would have been Rome. He was a
The young one has, perhaps, already been born Prelate of the Ante-chamber. He seemed
observed in the course of this story.      to have been created expressly to fill a part in
The two men had each a grave air, but their the Papal Court, to walk behind the Pontifical
gravity appeared different. The old man pos- litter, with all the Court of Rome in abitto pasessed what might be called state gravity; the onazzo.  The accident of his English birth and
gravity of the young man was in his nature. his theological education, directed more towards
Habit engenders the one, thought the other.  the Old than the New Testament, had deprived
They were, as their costume indicated, two him of that destiny. All his splendours were
clergymen, each belonging to the Established comprised in his preferments as Rector of St.
Church.                                    Peter's Port, Dean of the Island of Guernsey,
The first fact in the appearance of the younger and Surrogate of the Bishop of Winchester.
man which might have first struck the observer These were, undoubtedly, not without their glowas that his gravity, though conspicuous in the ries. These glories did not prevent M. Jaqueexpression of his features, and evidently spring- mHin Herode being, on the whole, a worthy man.
ing from the mind, was not indicated by his. As a theologian, he was esteemed by those
person.  Gravity is not inconsistent with pas- who were able to judge of such matters; he was
sion, which it exalts by purifying it; but the almost an authority in the Court of Archesidea of gravity could with difficulty be associa- that Sorbonne of England.
ted with an exterior remarkable above all for  He had the true air of erudition; a learned
personal beauty. Being in Holy Orders, he contraction of the eyes; bristling nostrils; teeth
must have been at least five-end-twenty, but which showed themselves at all times; a thin
he seemed scarcely more than eighteen.  He upper lip and a thick lower one. He was the
possessed those gifts at once in harmony with, possessor of several learned degrees, a valuable
and in opposition to each other, A soul which prebend, titled friends,*he confidence of the
seemed created for exalted passion, and a body bishop, and a Bible, which he carried always in
created for love. He was fair, rosy-fresh, slim, his pocket.
and elegant in his severe attire, with the cheeks  Mess Lethierry was so completely absorbed
of a young girl, and delicate hands. His move- that the entrance of the two priests produced no
ments were natural and lively, though subdued. effect upon him, save a slight movement of the
Everything about him was pleasing, elegant, eyebrows.
almost voluptuous. The beauty of his expres-  M. Jaquemin He'rode advanced, bowed, alsion served to correct this excess of personal luded in a few sober and dignified words to his
attraction. His open smile, which showed his recent promotion, and mentioned that he came
teeth, regular and white as those of a child, had according to custom to introduce among the insomething in it pensive, even devotional.  He habitants, and to Mess Lethierry in particular,
had the gracefulness of a page, mingled with the his successor in the parish, the new Rector of
dignity of a bishop.                        St. Sampson, the Rev. Ebenezer Caudray, henceHis fair hair, so fair and golden as to be al- forth the pastor of Mess Lethierry.
most effeminate, clustered over his white fore-  Deruchette rose.
head, which was high and well-formed. A slight  The young clergyman, who was the Rev.
double line between the eyebrows awakened as- Ebenezer, saluted her.
sociations with studious thought.             Mess Lethierry regarded Monsieur Ebenezer
Those who saw him felt themselves in the Caudray, and muttered, "A bad sailor."
presence of one of those natures, benevolent, in-  Grace placed chairs.  The two visitors seatnocent, and pure, whose progress is in inverse ed themselves near the table.
sense with that of vulgar minds; natures whom  Doctor Herode commenced a discourse. It
illusion renders wise, and whom  experience had reached his ears that a serious misfortune
makds enthusiasts.                         had befallen his host. The Durande had been
His older companion wa's no other than Doc- lost. He came as Lethierry's pastor to offer
tor Jaquemin Herode. Doctor Jaquemin He- condolence and advice.' This shipwreck was
rode belonged to the' High-Church; a party unfortunate, and yet not without compensations.
whose system is a sort of popery without a pope. Let us examine our own hearts. Are we not
The Church of England was at that epoch la- puffed up with prosperity?  The waters of febouring with the tendencies which have since licity are dangerous. Troubles. must be subbecome strengthened and condensed in the form  mitted to cheerfully.  The ways of Providence
of Puseyism.  Doctor Jaquemin Herode be- are mysterious.   Mess Lethierry was ruined,
longed to that shade of Anglicanism which is perhaps. But riches were a danger. You may
almost a variety of the Church of Rome. He have false friends; poverty will disperse them,




THE TOILERS OF THE. SEA.                                77
and leave you alone. The Durande was re- ished to that point that he was unable to take a
ported to have brought a revenue of one thou- beneficial part in any speculation, Russian or
sand pounds sterling per annum. It was more American, why should he not obtain some govthan enough for the wise. Let us fly from  ernment appointment suited to him?  There
temptations; put not our faith in gold; bow the were many very respectable places open to him,
head to losses and neglect. Isolation is full of and the reverend gentleman was ready to recgood fruits. It was in solitude that Aiah dis- ommend him. The office of Deputy VTicomte
covered the warm  springs while leading the was j.ust vacant.  Mess Lethierry was popular
asses of his father Lebeon. Let us not rebel and respected, and the reverend Jaquemin Heagainst the inscrutable decrees of Providence. rode, Deao of Guernsey and Surrogate of the
The holy man Job, after his misery, had put Bishop, would make an effort to obtain for Mess
faith in riches.  Who can say that the loss of Lethierry this post. The Deputy Vicomte is
the Durande may not have its advantages even an important officer. He is present as the repof a temporal kind. He,, for instance, Doctor resentative of His Majesty at the holding of the
Jaquemin Herode, had invested some money in Sessions, at the debates of the Cohue, and at exan excellent enterprise, now in progress at Shef- ecutions of justice.
field. If Mess Lethierry, with the wealth which  Lethierry fixed his eye upon Doctor Herode.
might still remain to him, should choose to em-  "I don't like hanging," he said.
bark in the same affair, he might transfer his  Doctor Herode, who, up to this point, had
capital to that town. It was an extensive man- pronounced his words with the same intonation,.ufactory of arms for the supply of the Czar, now  had now a fit of severity; his tone became
engaged in repressing insurrection in Poland. slightly changed.
There was a good prospect of obtaining three  " Mess Lethierry, the pain of death is of dihundred per cent. profit.                   vine ordination.  God has placed the sword in
The word Czar appeared to awaken Lethierry, the hands of governors. It is written,' An eye
He interrupted Dr. Herode.                 for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.'"
"I want nothing to do with the Czar."      The Reverend Ebenezer imperceptibly drew
The Reverend Herode replied,             his chair nearer to the Reverend Jaquemin, and
"Mess Lethierry, princes are recognised by said,.so as to be heard only by him,
God. It is written,'Render unto Cassar the   "What this man says is dictated to him."
things which are CUesar's.' The Czar is Cae-  "By whom? By what?" demanded the Revsar."                                      erend Jaquemin Herode, in the same tone.
Lethierry partly relapsed. into his dream and  The young man replied in a whisper, "By
muttered,                                  his conscience."
"Casar? who is Cwesar?  I don't know."   The Reverend Herode felt in his pocket, drew
The Rev. Jaquemin Herode continued his ex- out a thick little bound volume with clasps, and
hortations. He did not press the question of said aloud,
Sheffield." Conscience is here."
To contemn a Caesar was republicanism. He   The book was a Bible.
could understand a man being a republican.    The Doctor Herode's tone became softer.
In that case he could turn his thoughts towards " His wish was to render a service to Mess Lea republic. Mess Lethierry might repair his thierry, whom he respected much. As his pasfortune in the United States even better than tor, it was his right and duty to offer counsel.
in England. If he desired to invest what re- Mess Lethierry, however, was free."
mained to him at great profit, he had only to  Mess Lethierry, plunged once more in his
take shares in the great company for. develop- overwhelming absorption, no longer listened.
ing the resources of Texas, which employed Deruchette, seated near him, and thoughtful,
more than twenty thousand negroes.         also did not raise her eyes, and by her silent
"I want nothing to do with slavery," said presence somewhat increased the embarrassLethierry.                                 ment of a conversation not very animated. A
" Slavery," replied the Reverend Herode, " is witness who says nothing is a species of indean institution recognised by Scripture.  It is finable weight. Doctor Herode, however, did
written,'If the master has beaten his slave, not appear to feel it.
nothing shall be done to him, for he is his mon-  Lethierry no.longer replying, Doctor Hdrode
ey.1'                                      expatiated freely. " Counsel is from man; inGrace and Douce at the door of the -room  spiration is from God. In the counsels of the
listened in a sort of ecstasy to the words of the priests there is inspiration. It is good to acReverend Doctor.                           cept, dangerous to refuse them.  Sochoh was
The Doctor continued. He was, all things seized by eleven devils for disdaining the exconsidered, as we have said, a worthy man; and hortations of Nathaniel. Tiburius was struck
whatever his differences, personal or connected with a leprosy for having driven from his house
with caste, with Mess Lethierry, he had come the Apostle Andrew.  Barjesus, a magician
very sincerely to offer him that spiritual and though he was, was punished with blindness for
even temporal aid which he, Doctor Jaquemin having mocked at the words of St. Paul. ElxHe'rode, dispensed.                        ar and his sisters, Martha and Martena, are in
If Mess Lethierry's fortune had been dimin- eternal torments for despising the warnings of




78                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
Valencianus, who proved to them clearly that  His voice assumed all the solemnity of which
their Jesus Christ, thirty-eight leagues in height, it was capable.
was a demon. Aholibamah, who is also called  " Mess Lethierry," he began, " let us not part
Judith, obeyed the commands of Reuben, and without reading a page of the Holy Book. It
Peniel listened to the counsels from on high, as is from books that wise men derive consolation
their names indeed indicate. Reuben signifies in the troubles of life. The profane have their
son of the vision; and Peniel, the face of God." oracles; but believers have their ready resource
Mess Lethierry struck the table with his fist. in the Bible. The first book which comes to
"Parbleu!" he cried; " it was my fault."  hand, opened by chance, may afford counsel;
"What do you mean?" asked MtJaquemin but the Bible, opened at any page, yields a revHerode.                                   elation. It is, above all, a boon to the afflicted.
"I say that it is my fault."            Yes, Holy Scripture is an unfailing balm for
"Your fault?? Why?"                  their wounds. In the presence of affliction, it
"Because I allowed the Durande to return is good to consult its sacred pages-to open even
on Fridays."                              without choosing the place, and to read with
M. Jaquemin Herode whispered in the ear faith the passage which we find. What man
of M. Ebenezer Caudray,                   does not choose is chosen by God. He know.
"This man is superstitious."            eth best what.suiteth us. His finger pointeth
He resumed, raising his voice, and in a di- invisibly to that which we read. Whatever be
dactic tone:                              the page, it will infallibly enlighten. Let us
"Mess Lethierry, it is puerile to believe in seek, then, no other light, but hold fast to his.
Fridays. You ought not to put faith in fables. It is the word from on high. In the text which
Friday is a day just like any other. It is very is evoked with confidence and reverence, often
often a propitious day. Melendez founded the do we find a mysterious significance in our pres.
city of Saint Augustin on a Friday; it was on a ent troubles. Let us hearken, then, and obey.
Friday that Henry the Seventh gave his com- Mess Lethierry, you are in affliction, but I hold
mission to John Cabot; the Pilgrims of the here the book of consolation. You are sick at'Mayflower' landed at, Province Town on a heart, but I have here the book of spiritual
Friday. Washington was born on Friday, the health."
22d of February, 1732; Christopher Columbus  The Reverend Jaquemin Herode touched the
discovered America on Friday, the 12th of Oc- spring of the' clasp, and let his finger slip betober, 1492."                             tween the leaves. Then he placed his hand a
Having delivered himself of these remarks, moment upon the open volume, collected his
he rose.                                  thoughts, and, raising his eyes impressively, beCaudray, whom he had brought with him, gan to read in a loud voice.
rose also.                                  The passage which he had lighted on was as
Grace and-Douce, perceiving that the two follows:
clergymen were about to take their leave, open-'And Isaac went out to meditate in the field
ed the folding-doors.                     at the eventide, and he lifted up his eyes and
Mess Lethierry saw nothing-heard nothing. saw and beheld the camels were coming.
M. Jaquemin Herode said apart to M. Cau-    And Rebekah lifted up her eyes, and when
dray,                                     she saw Isaac she lighted off the camel.
"He does not even salute us. This is not  "For she had said unto the servant, What
sorrow; it is vacancy. He must have lost his man is this that walketh in the field to meet
reason."                                  us?
He took his little Bible, however, from the  And Isaac brought her into his mother Satable, and held it between his hands outstretch- rah's tent, and took Rebekah, and she became
ed, as one holds a. bird in fear that it may fly his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comaway. This attitude awakened among the per- forted after his mother's death."
sons present a certain amount of attention.  Caudray and Deruchette glanced at each
Grace and Douce leaned forward eagerly.   other,




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                79
SECOND PART-THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
BOOK I.
MALICIOUS GILLIATT.
I.                     between them. This bridge, so singular in
shape that it was impossible to imagine what it
THE PLACE WtHICH IS EASY TO BEACH, nU     was from a distance, touched each of the two
DIFFICULT TO LEAVE AGAIN.
pillars. It resembled a vast portal. Of what
THE bark which had been observed at so use could such an erection be in that open plain,
many points on the coast of Guernsey on the the sea, which stretched around it far and wide?
previous evening was, as the reader has guessed, It might have been' imagined to be a Titanic
the old Dutch barge or sloop. Gilliatt had Cromlech, planted there in mid-ocean by an imchosen the channel along the coast among the perious whim, and built up by hands accustomed
rocks. It was the most dangerous way, but it to proportion their labours to the abyss. Its
was the most direct. To take the shortest route wild outline stood well-defined against the clear
was his only thought.  Shipwrecks will not sky.
wait; the sea is a pressing creditor; an hour's  The morning light was growing stronger in
delay may be irreparable. His anxiety was to the east; the whiteness in the horizon deepened
arrive quickly to the rescue of the machinery in the shadow on the sea. In the opposite sky the
danger.                                    moon. was sinking.
One of his objects in leaving Guernsey was  The two perpendicular forms were the Douto avoid arousing attention. He set out like vres. The huge mass held fast between them,
one escaping from justice, and seemed anxious like an architrave between two pillars, was the
to hide from human eyes. He shunned the. wreck of the Durande.
eastern coast, as if he did not care to pass in  The rock, thus holding fast and exhibiting its
sight of St. Sampson and St. Peter's Port, and prey, was terrible to behold. Inanimate things
glided silently along the opposite coast, which seem sometimes endowed with a dark and hosis comparatively uninhabited.  Among the tile spirit towards man. There was a menace
breakers, it was necessary to ply the oars; but in the attitude of the rocks. They seemed to
Gilliatt managed them on scientific principles; be biding theii-tilme.
taking the water quietly, and dropping it with  Nothing could be more suggestive of haughtexact regularity, he was able to move in the iness and arrogance than their whole appeardarkness with as little noise and as rapidly as ance: the conquered vessel; the triumphant
possible. So stealthy were his movements, that abyss. The two rocks, still streaming with the
he might have seemed to be bent upon some tempest of the day before, seemed like two
evil errand.                               wrestlers sweating from a recent struggle. The
In truth, though embarking desperately in wind had sunk; the sea rippled gently; here
an enterprise which might well be called im- and there the presence of breakers might be depossible, and risking his life with nearly every tected in the graceful streaks of foam upon the
chance against him, he feared nothing but the surface of the waters. A sound came from the
possibility of some one rival in the work which sea like the murmuring of bees. All around
he had set before him.                     was level except the Douvres, rising straight,
As the day began to break, those unknown like two black columns. Up to a certain height
eyes which look down upon the world from   they were completely bearded with seaweed;
boundless space might have beheld, at one of above this their steep haunches glittered at
the most dangerous and solitary spots at sea, points like polished armour.  They seemed
two objects, the distance between which was ready to commence the strife again. The begradually decreasing, as the one was approach- holder felt that they were rooted deep in mounting the other. One, which was almost imper- ains whose summits were beneath the sea.
ceptible in the wide movement of the waters, Their aspect was full of a sort of tragic power.
was a sailing boat. In this was a man. It    Ordinarily the sea conceals her crimes. She
was the sloop. The other, black, motionless, delights in privacy. Her unfathomable deeps
colossal, rose above the waves, a singular form. keep silence. She wraps herself in a mystery
Two tall pillars issuing from the sea bore aloft which rarely consents to give up its secrets.
a sort of cross-beam which was like a bridge We know her savage nature, but who can tell




80                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
the extent of her dark deeds?  She is at once pling-iron and with a ladder of that sort, the
open and secret; she hides away carefully, and steepest rocks become accessible, and a good
cares not to divulge her actions; wrecks a ves- sailor will find it possible to scale the rudest essel, and, covering it with the waves, engulfs it carpment. In the islafid of Sark the visitor may
deep, as if conscious of her guilt. Among her see what the fishermen of the Havre Gosselin
crimes is hypocrisy. She slays and steals, con- can accomplish with a knotted cord.
ceals her booty, puts on an air of unconscious-  His nets and lines, and all his fishing apparaness, and smiles.                          tus, were in the barge.  He had'placed them
Here, however, was nothing of the kind. The there mechanically and by habit; for he intendDouvres, lifting above the level of the waters ed, if his enterprise continued; to sojourn for
the shattered hull of the Durande, had an air some time in an archipelago of rocks and breakof triumph. The imagination might have pic- ers, where fishing-nets and tackle are of little
tured them as two monstrous arms, reaching use.
upward from the gulf, and exhibiting to the   At the moment when Gilliatt was skirting
tempest the lifeless body of the ship. Their the great rock, the sea was retiring, a circumaspect was like that of an assassin boasting of stance favourable to his purpose. The departhis evil deeds.                            ing tide laid bare, at the foot of the smaller DouThe solemnity of the hour contributed some- vre, one or two table-rocks, horizontal or only
thing to the impression of the scene. There slightly inclined, and bearing a fanciful resemis a mysterious grandeur in the dawn, as of the blance to boards supported by crows. These
border-land between the region of consciousness table-rocks, sometimes narrow, sometimes broad,
and the world of our dreams.  There is some- standing at. unequal distances along the side of
thing spectral in that confused transition time. the great perpendicular column, were continued
The immense form of the two Douvres, like a in the form of a thin cornice up to a spot just
capital letter H, the Durande forming its cross- beneath the Durande, the hull of which stood
stroke, appeared against the horizon in all their swelling out between the two rocks. The wreck
twilight majesty.                           was held fast there as in a vice.
Gilliatt was attired in his seaman's clothing:  This series of platforms was convenient for
a Guernsey shirt, woollen stockings, thick shoes, approaching and surveying the position. It was
a homespun jacket, trowsers of thick stuff, with convenient for disembarking the contents of the
pockets, and a cap upon his head, of red worsted, barge provisionally; but it was necessary to
of a kind then much in use among sailors, and hasten, for it was only above water for a few
known in the last century as a gale'ienne.  hours. With the rising tide the table-rocks
He recognised the rocks, and steered towards would be again beneath the foam.
them.                                         It was before these table-rocks, some level,
The situation of the Durande was exactly the some slanting, that Gilliatt pushed in and
contrary of that of a vessel gone to the bottom: brought the barge to a stand. A thick mass
it was a vessel suspended in the air.       of wet and slippery sea-wrack covered them,
No problem more strange was ever presented rendered more slippery here and there by their
to a salvor.                               inclined surfaces.
It was broad daylight when Gilliatt arived in  Gilliatt pulled off his shoes and sprang nakedthe waters about the rock.                 footed on to the slimy weeds, and made fast the
As we have said, there was but little sea. barge to a point of rock.
The slight agitation of the water was due almost  Then he advanced as far as he could along
entirely to its.confinement among the rocks. the granite cornice, reached the rock immediEvery passage, small or large, is subject to this ately beneath the wreck, looked up and examchopping movement. The inside of a channel ined it.
is always more or less white with foam.  Gil-  The Durande had been caught suspended,
liatt did not approach the Douvres without cau- and, as it were, fitted in between the two rocks,
tion.                                      at about twenty feet above the water. It must
He cast the sounding-lead several times.  have been a heavy sea which had cast her there.
He had a cargo to disembark.               Such effects from furious seas have nothing
Accustomed to long absences, he had at home surprising for those who are familiar with the
a number of necessaries always ready. He had ocean. To cite one example only: On January
brought a sack of biscuit, another of rye-meal, a 25th, 1840, in the Gulf of Stora, a tempest struck
basket of salt fish and smoked beef, a large can with its expiring force a brig, and casting it alof fresh water; a Norwegian chest painted with most intact completely over the broken wreck
flowers, containing several coarse woollen shirts, of the corvette "La Marne," fixed it immovahis tarpaulin and his water-proof overalls, and ble, bowsprit first, in a gap between the cliffs.
a sheepskin which he was accustomed to throw  The Douvres, however, held only a part of the
at night over his clothes. On leaving the Bu Durande.
de la Ru'e he had put all these things hastily  The vessel, snatched from'the waves, had
into the barge, with the addition of a large loaf. been, as it were, uprooted from the waters by
In his hurry he had brought no other tools but the hurricane.  A whirlwind had wrenched it
his huge forge-hammer, his chopper and hatch- against the counteracting force of the rolling
et, and a knotted rope. Furnished with a grap- waves, and the vessel, thus caught in contrary




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 81
directions by the two claws of the tempest, had been possible to rest on the summit of the Great
snapped like a lath.  The after part, with the Douvre, but impossible to ascend it.
engine and the paddles, lifted out of the foam,  Gilliatt, having rapidly surveyed the situation
and driven by all the fury of the cyclone into of affairs, returned to the barge, landed its conthe defile of the Douvres, had plunged in up to tents upon the largest of the horizontal cornice
her midship beam, and remained there. The rocks, made of the whole compact mass a sort
blow had been well directed. To drive it in of bale, which he rolled up in tarpaulin, fitted a
this fashion between the two rocks, the storm  sling rope to it with a hoisting block, pushed the
had struck it as with an enormous hammer. package into a corner of the rocks where the
The forecastle, carried away and rolled down waves could not reach it, and then clutching the
by the sea, had gone to fragments among the Little Douvre with his hands, and holding on
breakers.                                  with his naked feet, he clambered from projecThe hold, broken in, had scattered out the tion to projection, and from niche to niche, until
bodies of the drowned cattle upon the sea.  he found himself level with the wrecked vessel
A large portion of the forward bulwarks still high up in the air.
hung to the riders of the larboard paddle-boxes,  Having reached the height of the paddles, he
and by some shattered braces easy to strike off sprang upon the poop.
with the blow of a hatchet.                   The interior of the wreck presented a mournHere and there, among beams, planks, rags ful aspect.
of canvas, pieces of chains and other remains of  Traces of a great struggle were everywhere
wreck were seen lying about among the rugged visible. There were plainly td be seen the
fragments of shattered rock.                frightful ravages of the sea and wind. The
Gilliatt surveyed the Durande attentively. action of the tempest is like the violence of a
The keel formed a roofing over his head.    band of pirates. Nothing is more like the vicA serene sky stretched far and wide over the tim of a criminal outrage than a wrecked ship
waters, scarcely wrinkled with a passing breath. violated and stripped by those terrible accomThe sun rose gloriously in the midst of the vast plices, the storm-cloud, the thunder, the rain,
azure circle.                               the squall, the waves, and the breakers.
From time to time a drop of water was de-   Standing upon the dismantled deck, it was
tached from the wreck and fell into the sea.  natural to dream of the presence of something
like a furious stamping of the spirits of the
storm. Everywhere around were the marks of
their rage. The strange contortions of certain
II.                     portions of the iron-work bore testimony to the
A CATALOGUE OF DISASTERS.          terrific force of the winds. The between-decks
were like the cell of a lunatic, in which everyTHE Douvres differed in shape as well as in thing has been broken.
height.No wild beasts can compare with the sea folr
Upon the Little Douvre, which was curved mangling its prey. The waves are full of taland pointed, long veins of reddish-coloured rock, ons. The north wind bites, the billows devour,
of a comparatively soft kind, could be seen the waves are like hungry jaws. The ocean
branching out and dividing the interior of the strikes like a lion with its heavy paw, seizing
granite.  At the edges of these red dikes were and dismembering at the same moment.
fiactures favourable to climbing. One of these  The ruin conspicuous in the Durande presents
fractures, situated a little above the wreck, had the peculiarity of being detailed and minute.
been so laboriously worn and scooped out by the It was a sort of horrible stripping and plucking.
splashing of the waves, that it had become a Much of it seemed done with design. The besort of niche, in which it would have been quite holder was tempted to exclaim, "What wanton
possible to place a statue.  The granite of the mischief!"  The ripping of the planking was
Little Douvre was rounded at the surface, and, edged here and there artistically. This peculito the feel at least, soft like touchstone; but arity is common with the ravages of the cyclone.
this feeling detracted nothing from its durabili- To chip and tear away, such is the caprice of
ty.  The Little Douvre terminated in a point the great devastator. Its ways are like those of
like a horn.  The Great Douvre, polished, the professional torturer. The disasters which
smooth, glossy, perpendicular, and looking as it causes wear a look of ingenious punishments.
if cut out by the builder's square, was in one One might fancy it actuated by the worst paspiece, and seemed made of black ivory. Not a sions of man. It refines in cruelty like a savhole, not a break in its smooth surface. The age. While it is exterminating it dissects bone
escarpment looked inhospitable.  A  convict by bone. It torments its victim, avenges itself,
could not have used it for escape, nor a bird for and takes delight in its work. -It even appears
a place for its nest.  On its summit there was a to descend to petty acts of malice.
horizontal surface as upon "The Man Rock;"    Cyclones are rare in our latitudes, and are,
but the summit of the Great Douvre was inac- for that reason, the more dangerous, being gencessible.                                   erally unexpected. A rock in the path of a
It was possible to scale the Little Douvr6, but heavy wind may become the pivot of a storm.
not to remain on the summit; it would have It is probable that the squall had thus rotated
F




82                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
upon the point of the Douvres, and had turned the captain of the "Shealtiel" was strictly corsuddenly into a waterspout on meeting the shock rect. The hull was useless, but the engine reof the rocks, a fact which explained the casting mained intact.
of the vessel so high among them. When the  Such chances are common in the history of
cyclone blows, a vessel is of no more weight in shipwreck. The logic of disaster at sea is bethe wind than a stone in a sling.         yond the grasp of human science.
The damage received by the Durande was    The masts, having snapped short, had fallen
like the wound of a man cut in twain. It was over the side; the chimney was not even bent.
a divided trunk from which issued a mass of The great iron plating which supported the madebris like the entrails of a body. Various chinery had kept it together, and in one piece.
kinds of cordage hung floating and trembling, The planks of the paddle-boxes were disjointchains swung clattering; the fibres and nerves ed, like the leaves of wooden sun-blinds, but
of the vessel were there naked and exposed. through their apertures the paddles themselves
What was not smashed was disjointed.      could be seen in good condition. A few of
Fragments of the sheathing resembled curry- their floats only were missing.
combs bristling with nails; everything bore the  Besides the machinery, the great stern capappearance of ruin; a handspike had become stan had resisted the destruction.  Its chain
nothing but a piece of iron; a sounding-lead, was there, and, thanks to its firm fixture in a
nothing but a lump of metal; a dead-eye had frame of joists, might still be of service, unless
become a mere piece of wood; a halliard, an the strain of the voyal should break away the
end of rope; a strand of cord, a tangled skein; planking. The flooring of the deck bent at ala bolt-rope, a thread in the hem of a sail. most every point, and was tottering throughout.
Everything around was the lamentable work of  On the other hand, the trunk of the hull,
demolition. Nothing remained that was not fixed between the Douvres, held together, as we
unhooked, unnailed, cracked, wasted, warped, have already said, and it appeared strong.
pierced with holes, destroyed; nothing hung to-  There was something like derision in this
gether in the dreadful mass, but all was torn, preservation of the machinery; something
dislocated, broken. There was that air of drift which added to the irony of the misfortune.
which characterizes the scene of all struggles-  The sombre malice of the unseen powers of
from the melees of men, which are called bat- mischief displays itself sometimes in such bitter
ties, to the melees of the elements, to which we mockeries. The machinery was saved, but its
give the name of chaos. Everything was sink- preservation did not make it any the less lost.
ing and dropping away; w rolling mass of planks, The ocean seemed to have kept it only to depanelling, iron-work, cables, and beams had been molish it at leisure. It was like the playing of
arrested just at the great fracture of the hull, the cat with herprey.
whence the least additional shock must have pre-  Its fate was to suffer there and to be dismemcipitated them into the sea. What remained of bered day by day. It was to be the plaything
her powerful frame, once so triumphant, was of the savage amusements of the sea. It was
cracked here and there, showing through large slowly to dwindle,' and, as it were, to melt away.
apertures the dismal gloom within.        For what could be done? That this vast blocki
The foam from below spat its flakes contemp- of mechanism and- gear, at once massive and
tuously upon this broken and forlorn outcast of delicate, condemned to fixity by its weight, dethe sea.                                  livered up in that solitude to the destructive
— * —-_-                  elements, exposed in the gripe of the rock to
the action of the wind and wave, could, under
III.                    the frown of that implacable spot, escape from
slow destruction, seemed a madness even to
SOUND, BUT NOT SAFE.
SOUND,                    imagine.
GILLIATT did not expect to find only a por-  The Durande was the captive of the Douvres,
tion of the ship existing. Nothing in the de-  How could she be extricated from that posiscription, in other respects so precise, of the cap- tion?
tain of the "Shealtiel" had led him to anticipate  How could she be delivered from her bondthis division of the vessel in the centre. It was age?
probable that the "diabolical crash" heard by the  The escape of a man is difficult; but what
captain of the " Shealtiel" marked the moment a problem was this-the escape of a vast and
when this destruction had taken place under cumbrous machinery.
the blows of a tremendous sea. The. captain
had, doubtless, worn ship just before this last 
heavy squall; and what he had taken for a great
sea was probably a waterspout. Later, when he                IV.
drew nearer to observe the wreck, he had only         PELIMINAY 
been able to see the stern of the vessel-the remainder, that is to say, the large opening where  GILLIATT was pressed on all sides by urgent
the fore part had given way, having been con- demands upon his labours. The most presscealed from him among the masses of rock.  ing, however, was to find a safe mooring for
With that exception, the information given by the barge; then a shelter for himself.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                83
The Durande having settled down more on two gigantic shafts of granite protruding vertithe larboard than on the starboard side, the cally and almost touching each other, and formright paddle-box was higher than the left.  ing the crest of one of the mountainous ranges
Gilliatt ascended the paddle-box on the right. lying beneath the ocean. Those immense ridges
From that position, although the gut of rocks are not only found rising out of the unfathomastretching in broken angles behind the Douvres ble deep. The surf and the squall had broken
had several elbows, he was able to study the it up and divided it like the teeth of a saw.
ground-plan of the group.                   Only the tip of the ridge was visible; this was
This survey was the preliminary step of his'the group of rocks. The remainder, which the
operations.                                 waves.concealed; must have been enormous.
The Douvres, as we have already described The passage in which the storm had planted
them, were like two high gable ends, forming the Durande was the way between these two
the narrow entrance to a straggling alley of colossal shafts.
small cliffs with perpendicular faces. It is not  This passage, zigzag in form as the forked
rare to find in primitive submarine formations lightning, was of about the same width in all
these singular kinds of passages, which seem  parts. The ocean had so fashioned it. Its
cut out with a hatchet.                     eternal commotion produces sometimes those
This defile was extremely tortuous, and was singular regularities.  There is a sort of geomnever without water, even in the low tides. A  etry in the action of the sea.
current, much agitated, traversed it at all times  From one extremity to the other of the defrom end to end. The sharpness of its turn- file, the two parallel granite walls confronted
ings was favourable or unfavourable, according each other at a distance which the midship
to the nature of the prevailing wind; some- frame of the Durande measured exactly. Betimes it broke the swell and caused it to fall; tween the two Douvres, the widening of the
sometimes it exasperated it. This latter effect Little Douvre, curved and turned back as it
was the most frequent. An obstacle arouses was, had formed a space for the paddles.  In
the anger of the sea, and pushes it to excesses. any other part they must have been shattered
The foam is the exasperation of the waves,  to fragments.
The two chains of rocks, leaving between    The high double fagade of rock within the
them this kind of street in the sea, formed passage was hideous to the sight. When, in
stages at a lower level than the Douvres, grad- the exploration of the desert of water which we
ually decreasing, until they sunk together at a call the ocean, we come upon the unknown
certain distance beneath the waves.         world of the sea, all is uncouth and shapeless.
The stormy winds in these narrow and tor- So much as Gilliatt could see of the defile from
tuous passages between the rocks are subjected the height of the wreck was appalling. In the
to a similar compression, and acquire the same rocky gorges of the ocean we may often trace a
malignant character. The tempest frets in its strange permanent impersonation of shipwreck.
sudden imprisonment.   Its bulk is still irn- The defile of the Douvres was one of these
mense, but sharpened and contracted; and it gorges, and its effect was exciting to the imagistrikes with the massiveness of a huge club nation. The oxydes of the rock showed on the
and the keenness of an arrow. It pierces even escarpment here and there in red places, like
while it strikes down. It is a hurricane con- marks of clotted blood; it resembled the splashes
tracted, like the draught through the crevice of on the walls of an abattoir. Associations of the
a door.                                     charnel-house haunted the place. The rough
There was another such gullet of less height marine stones, diversely tinted —here by the
than the gullet of the Douvres, but narrower decomposition of metallic amalgams mingling
still, and which formed the eastern entrance with the rock, there by the mould of dampness,
of the defile. It was evident that the double manifested in places by purple scales, hideous
prolongation of the ridge of rocks continued the green blotches,, and ruddy splashes, awakened
kind of street under the water as far as "The ideas of murder and extermination. It was like
Man" rock, which stood like a square citadel the unwashed walls of a chamber which had
at the extremity of the group.              been the scene of an assassination; or it might
At low water, indeed, which was the time at have been imagined that men had been crushed
which Gilliatt was observing them, the two rows to death there, leaving traces of their fate. The
of sunken rock showed their tips, some high and peaked rocks produced an indescribable imdry, and all visible and preserving their parallel. pression of accumulated agonies. Certain spots
without interruption.                       appeared to be still dripping with the carnage;
"The Man" formed the boundary, and but- here the wall was wet, and it looked impossible
tressed on the eastern side the entire mass of to touch it without leaving the fingers bloody.
the group, which was protected on the opposite The blight of massacre seemed everywhere. At
side by the two Douvres.                   the base of the double parallel escarpment, scatThe whole, from a bird's-eye view, appeared tered along the water's edge, or just below the
like a winding chaplet of rocks, having the waves, or in the worn hollows of the rocks, were
Douvres at one extremity and " The Man" at monstrous rounded masses of shingle, some scarthe other,                                 let, others black or purple, which bore a strange
The Douvres, taken together, were merely resemblance to internal organs of the body;




8s4               -        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
they might have been taken for human lungs, samiel are believed to be the names of demons.
or heart, or liver, scattered and putrefying in They descend from the heights of the mountthat dismal place. Giants might have been dis- ains. A storm vitrified the volcano of Toluca.
embowelled there. From top to bottom of the This hot wind, a whirlwind of inky colour, rushgranite ran long red lines, which might have ing upon red clouds, is alluded to in the Vedas:
been taken for the oozings from a funeral bier.  "Behold the black god, who comes to steal the
Such aspects are frequent in sea caverns,  red cows." In all these facts we trace the presence of the electric mystery.
~~ —-~> —-      1The wind indeed is full of it; so is the waves.
The sea, too, is composite in its nature. UnV.                      der its waves of water which we see, it has its
WORD  O  THE SECRET CO-OERATIONS OF waves of force which are invisible. Its constitA WORlD UPON THE SECRET CO-OPERATIONS OE
THE ELEMENTS.                 uents  are innumerable.  Of all the elements,
the ocean is the most indivisible and the most
THOSE who, by the disastrous chances of sea profound.
voyages, happen to be condemned to a tempo-   Endeavour to conceive this chaos so enorrary habitation upon a rock in mid-ocean, find mous that it dwarfs all other things to one level.
that the form of their inhospitable refuge is by It is the universal recipient, reservoir of germs
no means a matter of indifference. There is of life, and mould of transformations. It amassthe pyramidal-shaped rock, a single peak rising es and then disperses, it accumulates and then
fiom-the water; there is the circle rock some- sows, it devours and then creates.  It receives
what resembling a round of great stones; and all the waste and refuse waters of the earth,
there is the corridor rock. The latter is the and converts them into treasure. It is solid in
most alarming of all. It is not only the cease- the iceberg, liquid in the wave, fluid in the estu.
less agony of the waves between its walls or the ary. Regarded as matter, it is a mass; retumult of the imprisoned sea; there are also cer- garded as a force, it is an abstraction. It equaltain obscure meteorological characteristics, which izes and unites all phenomena. It may be
seem to appertain to this parallelism of two ma- called the infinite in combination. By force.rine rocks. The two straight sides seem a ver- and disturbance it arrives at transparency.  It
itable electric battery.                    dissolves all differences, and absorbs them into
The first result of the peculiar position of its own unity. Its elements are so numerous
these corridor rocks is an action upon the air that it becomes identity.  One of its drops is
and the water. The corridor rock acts upon complete, and represents the whole. From the
the waves and the wind mechanically by its abundance of its tempests, it attains equilibrium.
form; galvanically, by the different magnetic Plato beheld the mazy dances of the spheres.
action rendered possible by its vertical height, Strange fact, though not the less real, the ocean,
its masses in juxtaposition and contrary to each in the vast terrestrial journey round the sun, bet
other.                                      comes, with its flux and reflux, the balance of the
This form of rock attracts to itself all the globe.
forces scattered in the winds, and exercises over  In a phenomenon of the sea, all other phethe tempest a singular power of concentration.  nomena are resumed. The sea is blown out of
Hence there is in the neighbourhood of these a waterspout as from a siphon; the storm ohbreakers a certain accentuation of storms.  serves the principle of the pump; the lightning
It must be borne in mind that the wind.is issues from the sea as from the air. Aboard
composite. The wind is believed to be simple, ships dull shocks are sometimes felt, and an
but it is by no means simple. Its power is not odour of sulphur issues from the receptacles of
merely dynamic, it is chemical also; but this is chain cables. The ocean boils. "The devil has
not all, it is magnetic.  Its effects are often in- put the sea in his kettle," said De Ruyter. In
explicable. The wind is as much electrical as certain tempests, which characterize the equiaerial. Certain winds coincide with the aurores noxes and the return to equilibrium of the proboreales. The wind blowing from the bank of lific power of nature, vessels breasting the foam
the Aiguilles rolls the waves one hundred feet seem to give out a kind of fire, phosphoric lights
high; a fact observed with astonishment by Du- chase each other along the rigging, so close
mont d'Urville. The corvette, he says, "knew  sometimes to the sailors at their work that the
not what to obey."                         latter stretch forth their hands and try to catch,
In the South Seas the waters will sometimes as they fly, these birds of flame. After the
become inflated like an outbreak of immense tu- great earthquake of Lisbon, a blast of hot air,
mours; and at such times the ocean becomes as from a furnace, drove before it towards the
so terrible that the savages fly that they may no city a wave sixty feet high.  The oscillation of
longer see it. The blasts in the North Seas are the ocean is closely related to the convulsions
different. They are mingled with sharp points of the earth.
of ice; and their gusts, unfit to breathe, will  These immeasurable forces produce sometimes
blow the sledges of the Esquimaux backwards extraordinary inundations.  At the end of the
on the smow. Other winds burn. It is the si- year 1864, one of the Maldive Islands, at a hundmoon of Africa which is the typhoon of China red leagues from the Malabar coast, actually
and the samiel of India. Simoon, typhoon, and foundered in the sea. It sunk to the bottom




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 85
like a shipwrecked vessel.  The fishermen who                  VI.
sailed from it in the morning, found nothing
A STABLE FOR THE HORSE.
when they returned at night; scarcely could
they distinguish their villages under the sea.  GILLIATT was sufficiently familiar with'maOn this occasion boats were the spectators of rine rocks to grapple in earnest with the Douthe wrecks of houses.                       vres. Before all, as we have just said, it was
In Europe, where nature seems restrained by necessary to find a safe shelter for the barge.
the presence of civilization, such events are rare,  The double row of reefs, which stretched in a
and are thought impossible.  Nevertheless, Jer- sinuous form behind the Douvres, connected itsey and Guernsey originally formed part of Gaul, self here and there with other rocks, and sugand at the moment while we are writing these gested the existence of blind passages and hollines, an equinoctial gale has demolished a great lows opening out into the straggling way, and
portion of the cliff of the Firth of Forth in Scot- joining again to the principal defile like brancllland.                                       es to a trunk.
Nowhere do these terrific forces appear more  The lower part of these rocks was covered
formidably conjoined than in the surprising with kelp, the upper part with lichens.  The
strait known as the Lyse-Fiord.  The Lyse- uniform level of the seaweed marked the line
Fiord is the most terrible of all the Gut Rocks of the water at the height of the tide, and the
of the ocean. Their terrors are there complete. limit of the sea in calm weather. The points
It is in the Northern Sea, near the inhospitable which the water had not touched presented those
Gulf of Stavanger, and in the 59th degree of silver and golden hues communicated to marine
latitude. The water is black and heavy, and granite by the white and yellow lichen.
subject to intermitting storms. In this sea, and  A crust of conoidical shells covered the rock
in the midst of this solitude, rises a great som- at certain points, the dry rot of the granite.
bre street-a street for no human footsteps.   At other points in the retreating angles,
None ever pass through there; no ship ever where fine sand had accumulated, ribbed on its
ventures in. It is a corridor ten leagues in surface rather by the wind than by the waves,
length, between two rocky walls of three thou- appeared tufts of blue thistles.
sand feet in height. Such is the passage which  In the indentations, sheltered from the winds,
presents an entrance to the sea. The defile has could be traced the little perforations made by
its elbows and angles like all these streets of the the sea-urchin.  This shelly mass of prickles,
sea-never straight, having been formed by the which moves about a living ball, by rolling on
irregular action of the water.  In the Lyse- its spines, and the armour of which is composed
Fiord, the sea is almost always tranquil; the of ten thousand pieces, artistically adjusted and
sky above is serene; the place terrible. Where welded together-the sea-urchin, which is popuis the wind?   Not on high. Where is the larly called, for some unknown reason, "Aristhunder?  Not in the heavens. The wind is totle's Lantern," wears away the granite with
under the sea; the lightnings within the rock. his five teeth, and lodges himnself in the hole.
Now. and then there is a convulsion of the wa- It is in such holes that the samphire gatherers
ter. At certain moments, when there is per- find them. They cut them in halves and eat
haps not a cloud in the sky, nearly half way up them raw, like an oyster. Some steep their
the perpendicular rock, at a thousand or fifteen bread in the soft flesh. Hence its other name,
hundred feet above the water, and rather on the "Sea-egg."
southern than on the northern side, the rock  The tips of the further reefs, left out of the
suddenly thunders, lightnings dart forth, and water by the receding tide, extended close unthen retire like those toys which lengthen out der the escarpment of "The Man" to a sort of
and spring back again in the hands of children. creek, enclosed nearly on all sides by rocky
They contract and enlarge; strike the opposite walls. Here was evidently a possible harbourciif, re-enter the rock, issue forth again, re- age. It had the form  of a horseshoe, and
commence their play, multiply their heads and opened only on one side to the east wind, which
tips'of flame, grow bristling with points, strike is the least violent of all winds in that sea labwherever they can, recommence again, and then yrinth. The water was shut in there, and alare extinguished with a sinister abruptness. most motionless.  The shelter seemed comparFlocks of birds fly wide in terror.  Nothing is atively safe.  Gilliatt, moreover, had not much
more mysterious thai that artillery issuing out choice.
of the invisible.  One cliff attacks the other,  If he wished to take advantage of the low waraining their lightning blows from side to side. ter, it was important to make haste.
Their war concerns not man. It signals the    The weather continued to be fine and calm.
ancient enmity of two rocks in the impassable The insolent sea was for a while in a gentle
gulf.                                       mood.
In the Lyse-Fiord, the wind whirls like the  Gilliatt descended, put on his shoes again,
water in an estuary; the rock performs the unmoored the cable, re-embarked, and pushed
function of the clouds, and the thunder breaks out into the water. He used the oars, coasting
forth like volcanic fire. This strange defile is the side of the rock.
a voltaic pile; its plates are the double line of  Having reached "The Man" rock, he examcliffs.                                    ined the entrance to the little creek.




86                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
A fixed, wavy line in the motionless sea, a not wanting.  Gilliatt had only to take his
sort of wrinkle, imperceptible to any eye but choice among the heap of wreck.
that of a sailor, marked the channel.         He found among the fragments a chisel, dropGilliatt studied for a moment its lineament, ped, no doubt, from the carpenter's box, and
almost indistinct under the water; then he which he added to his little stock of tools.
steered off a little in order to veer at ease, and  Besides this-for in poverty of appliances so
steer well into channel, and suddenly, with a complete everything counts for a little-he had
stroke of the oars, he entered the little bay.  his jack-knife in his pocket.
He sounded.                                 Gilliatt worked the entire day on the wreck,
The anchorage appeared to be excellent.   clearing away, propping, arranging.
The sloop would be protected there against  At nightfall he observed the following facts.
almost any of the contingencies of the sea-   The entire wreck shook in the wind. The
son;                                        carcass trembled at every step he took. There
The most formidable reefs have quiet nooks was nothing stable or strong except the portion
of this sort. The ports which are thus found of the hull jammed between the rocks which
among the breakers are like the hospitality of contained the engine. There the beams were
the fierce Bedouin-friendly and sure.       powerfully supported by the granite walls.
Gilliatt placed the sloop as near as he could  Fixing his home in the Durande would be
to "The Man," but still far enough to escape imprudent. It would increase the weight; but,
grazing the rock, and he cast his two anchors.  far from adding to her burden, it was important
That done, he crossed his arms and reflected to lighten it. To burden the wreck in any way
on his position.                            was the very contrary of what he wanted.
The sloop was sheltered.   Here was one     The mass of ruin required, in fact, the most
problem solved; but another remained. Where careful management. It was like a sick man
could he now shelter himself?               at the approach of dissolution. The wind would
He had the choice of two places: the sloop do enough to help it to its end.
itself, with its corner of cabin, which was scarce-  It was, moreover, unfortunate enough to be
ly habitable, and the summit of the "'TThe Man" compelled to work there. The amount of disrock, which was not difficult to scale.     turbance which the wreck would have to withFrom one or other of these refuges it was stand would necessarily distress it, perhaps bepossible at low water, by jumping from rock to yond its strength.
rock, to gain the passage between the Douvres  Besides, if any accident should happen in the
where the Durande was fixed almost without night while Gilliatt was sleeping, he must necwetting the feet.                           essarily perish with the vessel. No assistance
But low water lasts but a short while, and all was possible; all would be over. In order to
the rest of the time he would be cut off either help the shattered vessel, it was absolutely necfrom his shelter or from the wreck by more than essary to remain outside it.
two hundred fathoms. Swimming among break-    How to be outside, and yet near it, this was
ers is difficult at all times; if there is the least the problem.
sea it is impossible.                         The difficulty became more complicated as
He was driven to give up the idea of shelter he considered it.
in the sloop or on "The Man."                 Where could he find a shelter under such
No resting-place was possible among the conditions?
neighbouring rocks.                           Gilliatt reflected.
The summits of the lower ones disappeared   There remained nothing but the two Douvres.
twice a day beneath the rising tide.        They seemed hopeless enough.
The summit of the higher ones were con-     From  below it was possible to distinguish
stantly swept by the flakes of foam, and prom- upon the upper plateau of the Great Douvres a
ised nothing but an inhospitable drenching.  sort of protuberance.
No choice remained but the wreck itself.    High rocks with flattened summits, like the
Was it possible to seek refuge there?    Great Douvre and "The Man," are a sort of
Gilliatt hoped it might be.              decapitated peaks.  They abound among the
mountains and in the ocean. Certain rocks,
~ —~ —--         pparticularly those which are met with in the
open sea, bear ma rks like half-felled trees.
VII.                     They have the appearance of having received
blows from a hatchet.' They have been subA CHAMBER XOR THE VOYAGER.
A CHAMBER FR TH  OYAGER.    jected, in fact, to the blows of the gale, that
HALF an hour afterwards, Gilliatt, having. indefatigable pioneer of the sea.
returned to the wreck, climbed to the deck,   There are other still more profound causes
went below, descended into the hold, comple- of marine convulsions. Hence the innumerating the summary survey of his first visit.  ble bruises upon these primeval masses of granBy the help of the capstan he had raised to ite. Some of these sea giants have their heads
the deck of the Durande the package which he struck off.
had made of the lading of the sloop. The cap-  Sometimes these heads, from some inexplistan had worked well. Bars for turning it were cable causes, do not fall, but remain shattered




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               87
on the summit of the mutilated trunk. This  It did not fall.
singularity is by no means rare. The Devil's'He put a strain upon the rope; it resisted.
Rock, at Guernsey, and the Table, in the Val- The grapnel was firmly anchored.
ley of Anweiler, illustrate some of the most sur-  The hooks had caught in some fracture of
prising features of this strange geologicalenigma. the plateau which Gilliatt could not see.
Some such phenomena had probably fashion-  It was necessary to. trust his life to that uned the summit of the Great Douvre.        known support.
If the protuberance which could be observed  Gilliatt did not hesitate.
onthe plateau were not a regular irregularity in  The matter was urgent. He was compelled
the stone, it must necessarily be some remaining to take the shortest route.
fragment of the shattered summit.           Moreover, to descend again to the deck of the
Perhaps the fragment might contain some Durande in order to devise some other step was
excavation; some hole into which a man could impossible. A slip was probable, and a fall alcreep for cover. Gilliatt asked for no more.  most certain. It was easier to climb than to
But how could he reach the plateau? How descend.
could he scale that perpendicular wall, hard and  Gilliatt's movements were decisive, as are
polished as a pebble, half covered with the those of all good sailors. He niever wasted force.
growth of glutinous conferve, and having the He always proportioned his efforts to the work
slippery look of a soapy surface.         in hand. Hence the prodigies of strength which
The ridge of the plateau was at least thirty he executed with ordinary muscles. His biceps
feet above the deck of the Durande.       was no more powerful than that of ordinary
Gilliatt took out of his box of tools the knot- men, but his heart was firmer. He added, in
ted cord, hooked it to his belt by the grapnel, fact, to strength which is physical, energy which
and set to work to scale the Little Douvre. The belongs to the moral faculties.
ascent became more difficult as he climbed. He  The feat to be accomplished was appalling.
had forgotten to take off his shoes, a fact which  It was to cross the space between the two
increased the difficulty. With great labour and Douvres, hanging only by this slender line.
difficulty, however, he reached the point. Safe-  Oftentimes, in the path of duty and devotedly arrived there, he raised himself and stood ness, the figure of death rises before men to preerect. There was scarcely room for his two sent these terrible questions:
feet. To make it his lodging would be difficult.  Wilt thou do this? asks the shadow.
A Stylite might have contented himself there;  Gilliatt tested the cord again; the grapplingGilliatt, more luxurious in his requirements, iron held firm.
wanted something more commodious.           Wrapping his left hand in his handkerchief,
The Little Douvre, leaning towards the great Gilliatt grasped the knotted cord with his right
one, looked from a distance as if it was saluting hand, which he covered with his left; then
it, and the space between the Douvres, which stretching out one foot, and striking out sharpwas some fcore of feet below, was only eight or ly with the other against the rock, in order
ten at the highest points.                that the impetus might prevent the rope twistFrom the spot.to which he had climbed, Gil- ing, he precipitated himself from the height of
liatt saw more distinctly the rocky excrescence the Little Douvre on to the escarpment of the
which partly covered the plateau of the Great great one.
Douvre.                                     The shock was severe.
This plateau rose three fathoms at least above  There was a rebound.
his head.                                   His clenched fists struck the rocks in their
A precipice separated him from it.  The turn; the handkerchief had loosened, and they
curved escarpment of the Little Douvre sloped were scratched  t they had indeed narrowly esaway out of sight beneath him.            caped being crushed.
Gilliatt detached the knotted rope from his  Gilliatt remained hanging there a moment
belt, took a rapid glance at the dimensions of dizzy.
the rock, and slung the grapnel up to the pla-  He was sufficiently master of himself not to
teau.                                     let go his hold of the cord.
The grapnel scratched the rock, and slipped.  A few moments passed in-jerks and oscillaThe knotted rope with the hooks at its end fell tions before he could catch the cord with his
down beneath his feet, swinging against the side feet; but he succeeded at last.
of the Little Douvre.                       Recovering himself, and holding the cord at
Gilliatt renewed the attempt; slung the rope last between his naked feet as with two hands,
further, aiming at the granite protuberance, in he gazed into the depth below.
which he could perceive crevices and scratches.  He had no anxiety about the length of the
The cast was this time so neat and skilful that cord, which had many a time served him for
the hooks caught.                         great heights. The cord, in fact, trailed upon
Gilliatt pulled from below. A portion of the the deck of the Durande.
rock broke away, and the knotted rope with its  Assured of being able to descend again, he beheavy iron came down once more, striking the gan to climb hand over hand, and still clinging
escarpment beneath his feet.              with his feet.
Gilliatt slung the grapnel a third time.  In a few moments he had gained the plateau.




88                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
Never before had any creature without wings chine, all that might become of use to him, such
found a footing there. The plateau was cov- as wood, iron, cordage, and canvas. What was
cred in parts with the dung of birds. It was an useless he cast into the sea.
irregular trapezium, a mass struck off from the  The cargo of the sloop hoisted on to the deck
colossal granitic prism of the Great Douvre. by the capstan, compact as he had made it, was
This block was hollowed in the centre like a an encumbrance.  Gilliatt surveyed the species
basin-a work of the rain.                   of niche, at a height within his reach, in the
Gilliatt, in fact, had guessed correctly.  side of the little Douvre. These natural closAt the southern angle of the block he found ets, not shut in, it is true, are often seen in the
a mass of superimposed rocks, probably frag- rocks. It struck him that it was possible to
ments of the fallen summit. These rocks, look- trust some stores to this ddept, and he according like a heap of giant paving-stones, would ingly placed in the back of the recess his two
have left room for a wild beast, if one could boxes containing his tools and his clothing, and
have found its way there, to secrete himself be- his two bags containing the rye-meal and the
tween them. They supported themselves con- biscuit. In the front-a little too near the edge
fusedly one against the other, leaving interstices perhaps, but he had no other place-he rested
like a heap of ruins. They formed neither grot- his basket of provisions.
toes nor caves, but the pile was full of holes  He had taken care to remove from the box
like a sponge.  One of these holes was large of clothing his sheepskin, his loose coat with'a
enough to admit a man.                     hood, and his waterproof overalls.
This recess had a flooring of moss and a few  To lessen the hold of the wind upon the
tufts of grass.  Gilliatt could fit himself in it as knotted cord, he made the lower extremity fast
in a kind of sheath.                        to one of the riders of the Durande.
The recess at its entrance was about two    The Durande being much driven in, this rider
feet high. It contracted towards the bottom. was bent a good deal, and it held the end of the
Stone coffins sometimes have this form. The cord as firmly as a tight hand.
mass of rocks behind lying towards the south-  There was still the difficulty of the upper end
west, the recess was sheltered from the showers, of the cord. To control the lower part was
but was open to the cold north wind.       well, but at the summit of the escarpment, at the
Gilliatt was satisfied with the place.   spot where the knotted cord met the ridge of the
The two chief problems were solved; the plateau, there -was reason to fear that it would
sloop had a harbour, and he had found a shel- be fretted and worn away by the sharp angle of
ter.                                        the rock.
The chief merit of his cave was its accessi-  Gilliatt searched in the heap of rubbish in rebiility from the wreck.                     serve, and took from it some rags of sailcloth,
The grappling-iron of the knotted cord hav- and from a bunch of old cables he pulled out
ing fallen between two blocks, had become firm- some strands of rope-yarn with which he filled
ly hooked, but Gilliatt rendered it more diffi- his pockets.
cult to give way by rolling a huge stone upon  A sailor would have guessed that he intended
it.                                         to bind with these pieces of sailcloth and ends
He was now free to operate at leisure upon of yarn the part of the knotted rope upon the
the Durande.                                edge of the rock, so as to preserve it from all
Henceforth he was at home.               friction-an operation which is called "keckThe great Douvre was his dwelling; the Du- ling."
rande was his workshop.                       Having provided himself with these things,
Nothing was more simple for him than going he drew on his overalls over his legs, put on
to and fro, ascending and descending.      his waterproof coat over his jacket, drew its hood
He dropped down easily by the knotted cord over his red cap, hungcthe sheepskin round his
on to the deck.                             neck by the two legs, and, clothed in this comThe day's work was a good one, the enter- plete panoply, he grasped the cord, now firmly
prise had begun well; he was satisfied, and be- fixed to the side of the Great Douvre, and
gan to feel hungry.                        mounted to the assault of that sombre citadel in
He untied his basket of provisions, opened the sea.
his knife, cut a slice of smoked beef, took a bite  In spite of his scratched hands, Gilliatt easily
out of his brown loaf, drank a draught from his regained the summit.
can of fresh water, and supped admirably.     The last pale tints of sunset were fading in
To do well and eat well are two satisfac- the sky. It was night upon the sea below. A
tions. A full stomach resembles an easy con- little light still lingered upon the height of the
science.                                   Douvre.
His supper was ended, and there was still be-  Gilliatt took advantage of this remains of
fore him a little more daylight. He took ad- daylight to bind the knotted rope.. He wound
vantage of it to begin the lightening of the it round again and again at the part which passwreck-an urgent necessity.                 ed over the edge of the rock, with a bandage of
He had passed part of the day in gathering several thicknesses of canvas strongly tied at
tp the fragments. He put on one side, in the every turn. The whole resembled in some destrong compartment which contained the ma- gree the padding which actresses place upon




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                89
their knees, to prepare them for the agonies and  All the circumstances of his position consupplications of the fifth act.           spired to produce the effect of a vision. HalluThis binding completely accomplished, Gil- cinations seemed to surround him. The vagueliatt rose from his stooping position.    ness of night increased this effect, and Gilliatt
For some moments, while he had been busied felt himself plunged into some region of unrein his task, he had had a confused sense of a sin- alities. He asked himself if all were not a
gular fluttering in the air.              dream.
It resembled, in the silence of the evening,  Then he dropped to sleep again; and this
the noise which an immense bat might make time, in a veritable dream, found himself at the
with the beating of its wings.            Bu de la Rue, at the Bravee's, at St. Sampson.
Gilliatt raised his eyes.               He heard Deruchette singing; he was among
A great black circle was revolving over his realities. While he slept, he seemed to wake
head in the pale twilight sky.            and live; when he awoke again, he appeared
Such circles are seen in pictures round the to be sleeping.
heads of saints. These, however, are golden,  In truth, from this time forward he lived in
on a dark ground, while the circle around Gil- a dream.
liatt was dark, upon a pale ground. The effect  Towards the middle of the night a confused
was strange. It spread round the Great Douvre murmur filled the air. Gilliatt had a vague
like the aureole of night.                consciousness of it even in his sleep. It was
The circle drew nearer, then retired; grew  perhaps a breeze arising.
narrower, and then spread wide again.        Once, when awakened by a cold shiver, he
It was an immense flight of gulls, sea-mews, opened his eyes ea little wider than before.
fligate-birds, and sea-swallows-a vast multi- Clouds were moving in the zenith; the moon
tude of affrighted sea-birds.              was flying through the sky, with one large star
The Great Douvre was probably their lodg- following closely in her footsteps.
ing, and they were coming to rest for the night.  Gilliatt's mind was full of the incidents of
Gilliatt had taken a chamber in their home. his dreams. The wild outlines of things in the
It was evident that their unexpected fellow- darkness were exaggerated by this confusion
lodger disturbed them.                     with the impressions of his sleeping hours.
A man there was an object they had never   At daybreak he was half frozen, but he slept
beheld before.                             soundly.
Their wild flutter continued for some time.  The sudden daylight aroused him from a
They seemed to be waiting for the stranger slumber which might have been dangerous.
to leave the place.                        The alcove faced the rising sun.
Gilliatt followed them  dreamily with his  Gilliatt yawned, stretched himself, and sprang
eyes.                                      out of his sleeping-place.
The flying multitude seemed at last to give  Iis sleep had been so deep that he could not
up their design. The circle suddenly took a at first recall the circumstances of the night bespiral form, and the cloud of sea-birds settled fore.
down upon " The Man" rock at the extremity   By degrees the feeling of reality returned,
of the group, where they seemed to be confer- and he began to think of breakfast.
ring and deliberating.                       The weather was calm, the sky cool and seGilliatt, after settling down in his alcove of rene. The clouds were gone, the night-wind
granite, and covering a stone for a pillow for had cleared the horizon, and the sun rose brighthis head, could hear the birds for a long time ly. Another fine day was commencing.  Gilchattering one after the other, or croaking, as liatt felt joyful.
if in turns.                                 He threw off his overcoat and his leggins;
Then they were silent, and all were sleeping rolled them up in the sheepskin, with the wool
-the birds upon their rock, Gilliatt upon his.  inside, fastened the roll with a length of ropeyarn, and pushed it into the cavern for a shelo —-R~ -*. -ter in case of rain.
This done, he made his bed-an operation
VIII.                    which consisted in removing the stones which
had annoyed him in the night.
IMPORTUN2EQUE VOLUTCRES. o 
IO E.  His bed made, he slid down the cord on to
GILLIATT slept well; but he was cold, and the deck of the Durande and approached the
this awoke him from time to time. He had niche where he had placed his basket of provinaturally placed his feet at the bottom, and his sions. As it was very near the edge, the wind
hlad at the entrance to his cave. He had not in the night had swept it down, and rolled it
taken the precaution to remove from his couch into the sea.
a number of angular stones, which did not by  It was evident that it would not be easy to
any means conduce to sleep.               recover it. There was a spirit of mischief and
Now and then he half opened his eyes.   malice in a wind which had sought out his
At intervals he heard loud noises. It was basket in that position.
the rising tide entering the caverns of the rocks  It was the commencement of hostilities. Gilwith a sound like the report of a cannon,  liatt understood the token.




90                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
To those who live in a state of rude famil- a legion of men.  Gilliatt was alone; a comiarity with the sea, it becomes natural to regard plete apparatus of carpenters' and engineers'
the wind as an individuality, and the rocks as tools and implements were wanted. Gilliatt had
sentient beings.                            a saw, a hatchet, a chisel, and a hammer.  He
Nothing remained but the biscuit and the wanted both a good workshop and a good shed;
rye-meal, except the shell-fish, on which the Gilliatt had not a roof to cover him. Provishipwrecked sailor had supported a lingering sions, too, were necessary, but he had not even
existence upon " The Man" rock.            bread.
It was useless to think of subsisting by net or  Any one who could have seen Gilliatt workline fishing. Fish are naturally averse to the ing on the rock during all that first week might
neighbourhood of rocks. The drag and bow net have been puzzled to determine the nature of
fishers would waste their labour among the his operations.  He seemed to be no longer
breakers, the points of which would be destruc- thinking either of the Durande or the two Dontive only to their nets.                    vres. He was busy only among the breakers;
Gilliatt breakfasted on a few limpets which he seemed absorbed in saving the smaller parts
he plucked with difficulty from the rocks.  He of the shipwreck. He took advantage of every
narrowly escaped breaking his knife in the at- high tide to strip the reefs of everything which
tempt.                                     the shipwreck had distributed among them. He
While he was making his spare meal, he was went from rock to rock, picking up whatever
sensible of a strange disturbance on the sea. the sea had cast among them-tatters of sailHe looked around.                           cloth, pieces of iron, splinters of panels, shatIt was a swarm of gulls and sea-mews which tered planking, broken yards-here a beam,
had just alighted upon some 1ow rocks, and there a chain, there a pulley.
were beating their wings, tumbling over each  At the same time he carefully surveyed all
other, screaming, and shrieking. All were the recesses of the rocks. To his great disapswarming noisily upon the same point. This pointment none were habitable.  He had sufhorde with beak and talons were evidently pil- fered from the cold in the night, where he lodged
laging something.                          between the stones on the summit of the rock,
It was Gilliatt's basket.                and he would gladly have found some better
Rolled down upon a sharp point by the wind, refuge.
the basket had burst open. The birds had      Two of those recesses were somewhat extengathered round immediately.  They were car- sive. Although the natural pavement of rocl
rying off in their beaks all sorts of fragments of was almost everywhere oblique and uneven, it
provisions. Gilliatt recognised from the dis- was possible to stand upright and even to walk
tance his smoked beef and his salted fish.  within them. The wind and the rain wandered
It was their turn now to be aggressive. The there at will, but the highest tides did not reach
birds had taken to reprisals.  Gilliatt had rob- them. They were near the Little Douvre, and
bed them of their lodging, they deprived him  were approachable at any time.  Gilliatt deof his supper.                             cided that one should serve him as a store-house,
the other as a forge.
With all the sail, rope-bands, and all the
IX.                     reef-earrings he could collect, he made packages
of the fragments of wreck, tying up the wood
ETE   OCK, AND HOW GILLIATT USED IT.     and iron in bundles, and the canvas in parcels.
A WEEK passed.                           He lashed all these together carefully. As the
Although it was in the rainy season no rain rising tide approached these packages, he began
fell, a fact for which Gilliatt felt thankful. But to drag them across the reefs to his storehouse.
the work he had entered upon surpassed, in ap- In a hollow of the rocks he had found a top rope,
pearance at least, the power of human hand and by means of which he had been able to haul
skill.  Success appeared so improbable that the even the large pieces of timber. In the same
attempt seemed like madness.               manner he dragged from the sea the numerous
It is not until a task is fairly grappled with portions of chains which he found scattered
that its difficulties and perils become fully man- among the breakers.
ifest. There is nothing like making a com-    Gilliatt worked at these tasks with astonishmencement for making evident how difficult it ing activity and tenacity. He accomplished
will be to come to the end. Every beginning whatever he attempted-nothing could withis a struggle against resistance.  The first step stand his ant-like perseverance.
is an exorable undeceiver. A difficulty which  At the end of the week he had gathered into
we come to touch pricks like a thorn.      this granite warehouse of marine stores, and
Gilliatt found himself immediately in the ranged into order, all this miscellaneous and
presence of obstacles.                     shapeless mass of salvage. There was a corner
In order to raise the engine of the Durande for the tacks of sails and a corner for the sheets.
from the wreck in which it was three parts Bowlines were not mixed with halliards; parburied, with any chance of success-in order rels were arranged according to their number
to accomplish a salvage in such a place and in of holes. The coverings of rope-yarn, unwound
such a season, it seemed almost necessary to be from the broken anchorings, were tied in bunch



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                91
es; the dead-eyes without pulleys were separated find it, if he had not had such peculiar need of
from the tackle-blocks. Belaying-pins, bull's- them at the time.
eyes, preventer-shrouds, down-hauls, snatch-  At the entrance to the storehouse and outblocks, pendents, kevels, trusses, stoppers, fire- side were two heaps of refuse-a heap of iron
booms, if they were not completely damaged by good for forging, and a heap of wood good for
the storm, occupied different compartments. burning.
All the cross-beams, timber-work, uprights,  Gilliatt was always at work at early dawn.
stanchions, mast-heads, binding-strakes, port-lids Except his time of sleep he did not take a moand clamps, were heaped up apart.'Wherever ment of repose.
it was possible, he had fixed the fragments of  The wild sea-birds, flying hither and thither,
planks from the vessel's bottom one in the oth- watched over him at his work.
er. There was no confusion between reef-points
and nippers of the cable, nor of crow's-feet with 
tow-lines; nor of pulleys of the small with pulleys of the large ropes; nor of fragments from                X.
the waist with fragments from the stern. A
place had been reserved for a portion of the cat-         THE FORGE.
harpings of the I)urande, which had supported  THE warehouse completed, Gilliatt constructthe shrouds of the topmast and the futtock- ed his forge.
shrouds. Every portion had its place. The    The other recess which he had chosen had
entire wreck was there classed and ticketed. It within it a species of passage like a gallery in
was a sort of chaos in a storehouse.       a mine of pretty good depth. He had had at
A stay-sail, fixed by huge stones, served, first an idea of making this his lodging, but the
though torn and damaged, to protect what the draught was so continuous and so persevering
rain might have injured.                   in this passage that he had been compelled to
Shattered as were the bows of the wreck, Gil- give it up. This current of air, incessantly reliatt had succeeded in saving the two cat-heads newed, first gave him the notion of the forge.
with their three pulley-wheels.            Since it could not be his chamber, he was deHe had found the bowsprit too, and had had termined that this cabin should be his smithy.
much trouble in unrolling its gammoning; it To bend obstacles to our purposes is, a great
was very hard and tight, having been, according step towards triumph. The wind was Gilliatt's
to custom, made by the help of the windlass, and enemy. Gilliatt set about making it his servin dry weather. Gilliatt, however, persevered ant.
until he had detached it, this thick rope prom-  The proverb applied to certain kinds of men
ising to be very useful to him.            — fit for everything, good for nothing" —may
He had been equally successful in discovering also be applied to the hollows of rocks. They
the little anchor, which had become fast in the give no advantages gratuitously. On one side
hollow of a reef, where the receding tide had left we find a hollow fashioned conveniently in the
it uncovered.                              shape of a bath, but it allows the water to run
In what had been Tangrouille's cabin he had away through a fissure. Here is a rocky chamfound a piece of chalk, which he preserved care- ber, but without a roof; here a bed of moss, but
fully. He reflected that he might have some oozy with wet; here an arm-chair, but one of
marks to make.                             hard stone.
A fire-bucket, and several pails in pretty good  The forge which Gilliatt intended was roughcondition, completed his stock of working ma- ly sketched out by Nature, but nothing could
terials.                                   be more troublesome than to reduce this rough
All that remained of the store of coal of the sketch to manageable shape, to transform this
Durande he carried into the warehouse.     cavern into a laboratory and smith's shop. With
In a week this salvage of debris; the rock three or four large rocks, shaped like a funnel,
was swept clean, and the Durande was light- and ending in a narrow fissure, chance had
ened. Nothing remained now to burden the constructed there a species of vast misshapen
hull except the machinery.                 blower, of very different power to those huge old
The portion of the fore-bulwark which hung forge bellows of fourteen feet long, which poured
to it did not distress the hull.'It hung without out at every breath ninety-eight thousand inches
dragging, being partly sustained by a ledge of of air. This was quite a different sort of conrock. It was, however, large and broad, and struction. The proportions of the hurricane
heavy to drag, and would have encumbered his cannot be definitely measured.
warehouse too much. This bulwarking looked   This excess of force was an embarrassment.
something like a boat-builder's stocks. Gilliatt The incessant draught was difficult to regulate.
left it where it was.                       The cavern had two inconveniences: the wind
He had been profoundly thoughtful during traversed it from end to end; so did the water.
all this labour. He had sought in vain for the  This was not the Water of the sea, but a configure-head-the "doll," as the Guernsey'folks tinual little trickling stream, more like a spring
called it, of the Durande. It was one of the than a torrent.
things which the waves had carried away for  The foam, cast incessantly by the surf upon
ever. Gilliatt would have given his hands to the rocks sometimes more than a hundred feet




92                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
in the air, had filled with sea-water a natural block, rounded and ending in a point, might,
cave situated among the high rocks overlooking for want of anything better, serve instead of a
the excavation. The overflowings of this rese- I conoid bicorn; but the other kind of bicorn of
voir caused, a little behind the escarpment, a fall the pyramidal form was wanting. It was the
of water of about an inch in breadth, and de- ancient stone anvil of the Troglodytes. The
scending four or five fathoms. An occasional surface, polished by the waves, had almost the
contribution from the rains also helped to fill firmness of steel.
the reservoir. From time to time a passing  He regretted not having brought his anvil.
cloud dropped a shower into the rocky basin, As he did not know that the Durande had been
always overflowing. The water was brackish, brokeiin two by the tempest, he had hoped to
and unfit to drink, but clear. This rill of water find the carpenter's chest and all his tools genfell in graceful drops from the extremities of erally kept in the fore hold. But it was prethe long marine grasses, as from the ends of a cisely the fore part of the vessel which had been
length of hair.                           carried away.
Gilliatt was struck with the idea of making  These two excavations which Gilliatt had
this water serve to regulate the draught in the found in the rock were contiguous. The warecave. By the means of a funnel made of planks house and the forge communicated with each
roughly and hastily put together to form two or other.
three pipes, one of which was fitted with a valve,  Every evening, when his work was ended,
and of a large tub arranged as a lower reservoir, Gilliatt supped on a little biscuit, moistened in
without checks or counterweight, and completed water, a sea-urchin or a crab, or a few chataignes
solely by air-tight stuffing above and air-holes de mer, the only food to be found among those
below, Gilliatt, who, aswe have already said, rocks; and shivering like his knotted cord,
was handy at the forge and at the mechanic's mounted again to sleep in his cell upon the
bench, succeeded in constructing, instead of the Great Douvre.
forge-bellows, which he did not possess, an ap-  The very materialism of his daily occupation
paratus less perfect than what is known now-a- increased the kind of abstraction in which he
days by the name of a "cagniardelle," but less lived. To be steeped too deeply in realities
rude than what the people of the Pyrenees an- is in itself a cause of visionary moods. His
ciently called a " trompe."                bodily labour, with its infinite variety of details,
He had some rye-meal, and he manufactured detracted nothing from the sensation of stupor
with it some paste. He had some white cord, which arose fiom the strangeness of his position
which picked out into tow. With this paste and his work. Ordinary bodily fatigue is a
and tow, and some, bits of wood, he stopped thread which binds man to the earth, but the
all the crevices of the rock, leaving only a little very peculiarity of the enterprise he was enair-passage made of a powder-flask which he gaged in kept him in a sort of ideal twilight
had found aboard the Durande, and which had region. There were times when he seemed
served for loading the signal gun. This pow- to be striking blows with his hammer in the
der-flask was directed horizontally to a large clouds. At other moments, his tools appeared
stone, which Gilliatt made the hearth of the to him like arms. He had a singular feeling, as
forge. A stopper made of a piece of tow served if he was repressing or providing against some
to close it in case of need.              latent danger of attack. Untwisting ropes, unAfter this, Gilliatt heaped up the wood and ravelling threads of yarn in a sail, or propping
coal upon the hearth, struck his steel against up a couple of beams, appeared to him at such
the bare rock, caught a spark upon a handful times like fashioning engines of war. T.he thouof loose tow, and having ignited it, soon lighted sand minute pains which he took about his salhis forge fire.                           vage operations produced at last in his mind the
He tried the blower: it worked admirably.  effect of precautions against aggressions little
Gilliatt felt the pride of a Cyclops: he was concealed, and easy to anticipate. Ie did not
the master of air, water, and fire. Master of know the words which express the ideas, but he
the air; for he had given a kind of lungs to perceived them.'His instincts became less and
the wind, and changed the rude draught into a less those of the worker;'his habits more and
useful blower. Master of water, for he had more those of the savage man.
converted the little cascade into a "trompe."  His business there was to subdue and direct
Master of fire, for out of this moist rock he had the powers of nature. He had an indistinct
struck a flame.                           perception of it. A strange enlargement of his
The cave being almost everywhere open to ideas!
the sky, the smoke issued freely, blackening the  Around him, far as eye could reach, was the
curved escarpment. The rocks which seemed vast prospect of endless labour wasted and lost.
destined for ever to receive only the white foam, Nothing is more disturbing to the mind than
became now familiar with the blackening smoke. the contemplation of the diffusion of forces at
Gilliatt selected for an anvil a large smooth work in the unfathomable and illimitable space
round stone, of about the required shape and of the ocean. The mind tends naturally to
dimensions. It formed a base for the blows of seek the object of these forces. The unceasing
his hammer, but one that might fly and was movement in space, the. unwearying sea, the
very dangerous. One of the extremities of this clouds that seem ever hurrying to some place,




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 93
the vast mysterious prodigality of effort, all this hides away all this terrible magnificence in the
is a problem.  Whither does this perpetual twilight of her deeps.  Among the isolated
movement tend?   What do these winds con- rocks no eye watches over her; no spy embarstruct?  What do these giant blows build up? rasses her movements. It is there that she deThese howlings, shocks, and sobbings of the velops at liberty her mysterious side, which is
storm, what do they end in? and what is the inaccessible to man. Here she keeps all strange
business of this tumult?  The ebb and flow of secretions of life. Here that the unknown wonthese questionings is eternal, as the flux and re- ders of the sea are assembled.
flux of the sea. Gilliatt could answer for him-  Promontories, forelands, capes, headlands,
self; his work he knew, but the agitation which breakers, and shoals, are veritable construcsurrounded him far and wide at all times per- tions. The geological changes of the earth are
plexed him confusedly with its eternal ques- trifling compared with the vast operations of
tionings. Unknown to himself, mechanically, the ocean. These breakers, these habitations
by the mere pressure of external things, and in the sea, these pyramids, and spouts of the
without any other effect than a strange, uncon- foam, are the practicers of a mysterious art
scions bewilderment, Gilliatt, in this dreamy which the author of this book has somewhere
mood, blended his own toil somehow with the called "the Art of Nature."  Their style is
prodigious wasted labours of the sea.  How in- known by its vastness.  The effects of chance
deed, in that position, could he escape the in- seem here design.  Its works are multiform.
fluence of that mystery of the dread, laborious They abound in the mazy entanglement of the
ocean? how do other than meditate, so far as rock-coral groves, the sublimity of the cathemeditation was possible, upon the vacillation of dral, the extravagance of the pagoda, the amplithe waves, the perseverance of the foam, the im- tude of the mountain, the delicacy of the jewt
perceptible wearing down of rocks, the furious eller's work, the horror of the sepulchre.  They
beatings of the four winds?  How terrible that are filled with cells like the wasps' nest, with
perpetual recommencement, that ocean bed, dens like menageries, with subterranean pasthose Danaides-like clouds, all that travail and sages like the haunts of moles, with dungeons
weariness for no end?                      like Bastilles, with ambuscades like a camp.
For no end?  Not so! But for what?  0  They have their doors, but they are barricaded;
Thou Infinite Unknown, Thou only knowest!   their columns, but they are shattered; their
towers, but they are tottering; their bridges,
* —-   -~ —-         but they are broken. Their compartments are
unaccommodating; these are fitted for the birds
XI.                     only, those only for fish. They are impassable.
DISCOVERY.                  Their architectural style is variable and inconsistent; it regards or disregards at will the laws
A ROCK near the coast is sometimes visited of equilibrium, breaks off, stops short, begins in
by men; a rock in mid-ocean never. What the form of an archivolt, and ends in an archiobject could any one have there?  No supplies trave, block on block. Enceladus is the mason.
can be drawn thence; no fruit-trees are there, A wondrous science of dynamics exhibits here
no pasturage, no beasts, no springs of water fit- its problems ready solved. Fearful overhangted for man's use. It stands aloft, a rock with ing blocks threaten, but fall not: the human
its steep sides and summits above water, and its mind cannot guess what power supports their
sharp points below. Nothing is to be found bewildering masses.  Blind entrances, gaps,
there but inevitable shipwreck.            and ponderous suspensions multiply and vary
This'kind of rocks, which in the old sea dia- infinitely. The laws which regulate this Babel
lect were called Isoles, are, as we have said, baffle human inductions. The great unknown
strange places. The sea is alone there; she architect plans nothing, but succeeds in all.
works her own will. No token of terrestrial Rocks massed together in confusion form  a
life disturbs her. Man is a terror to the sea; monstrous monument, defy reason, yet maintain
she is shy of his approach, and hides from him  equilibrium.  Here is something more than
her deeds. But she is bolder among the lone strength; it is eternity. But order is wanting.
sea rocks. The everlasting soliloquy of the The wild tumult of the waves seems to have
waves is not troubled there.  She labours at passed into the wilderness of stone. It islike
the rocks, repairs its damage, sharpens its a tempest petrified and fixed for ever. Nothpeaks, makes them  rugged or renews them. ing is more impressive than that wild architecShe pierces the granite, wears down the soft ture; always standing, yet always seeming to
stone, and denudes the hard; she rummages, fall; in which everything appears to give supdismembers, bores, perforates, and grooves; she port, and yet to withdraw it. A struggle befills the rock with cells, and makes it sponge- tween opposing lines has resulted in the conlike, hollows out the inside, or sculptures it struction of an edifice, filled with traces of the
without. In that secret mountain which is efforts of those old antagonists, thd ocean and
hers, she makes to herself caves, sanctuaries, the storm.
palaces.  She has her splendid and monstrous  This architecture has its terrible mastervegetation, composed of floating plants which pieces, of which the Douvres rock was one.
bite, and of monsters which take root; and she  The sea had fashioned and perfected it withl




94                          THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
a sinister solicitude. The snarling waters licked water, the undermining of the restless sea. The
it into shape. It was hideous, treacherous, dark, branches of the subterranean maze probably
full of hollows.                            communicated with the sea without by more
It had a complete row of submarine caverns than one issue, some gaping at the level of the
ramifying and losing themselves in unfathomed waves, the other profound and invisible. It was
depths. Some of the orifices of this labyrinth near here, but Gilliatt knew it not, that Clubin
of passages were left exposed by the low tides. had dived into the sea.
A man might enter there, but at his risk and  In this crocodile cave-where crocodiles, it
peril.                                     is true, were not among the dangers —Gilliatt
Gilliatt determined to explore all these grot- wound about, clambered, struck his head occatoes for the purpose of his salvage labour. sionally, bent low and rose again, lost his footThere was not one which was not repulsive. ing and regained it many times, advancing laEverywhere about the caverns that strange as- boriously.  By degrees the gallery widened; a
pect of an abattoir, those singular traces of glimmer of daylight appeared, and he found
slaughter appeared again in all the exaggera- himself suddenly at the entrance to a cavern
tion of the ocean. No one who has not seen in of a singular kind.
excavations of this kind, upon the walls of everlasting granite, these hideous natural frescoes,
can form a notion of their singularity.                        XII.
These pitiless caverns, too, were false and sly.
Woe betide him who would loiter there. TheTHE        IOR O      DIIC    N         SE
rising tide filled them to their roofs.       THE gleam of daylight was fortunate.
Rock limpets and edible mosses abounded     One step further, and Gilliatt must have fallamong them.                                 en into a pool, perhaps without bottom. The
They were obstructed by quantities of shin- waters of these cavern pools are so cold and pargle, heaped together in their recesses.  Some alyzing as to prove fatal to the strongest swimof their huge smooth stones weighed more than mers.
a ton. They were of every proportion' and of  There is, moreover, no means of remounting,
every hue; but the greater part were blood-col- or of hanging on to any part of their steep walls.
oured.  Some, covered with a hairy and glutin-  Gilliatt stopped short.  The crevice from
ous sea-weed, seemed like large green moles bor- which he had just issued ended in a narrow and
ing a way into the rock.                    slippery projection-a species of corbel in the
Several of the caverns terminated abruptly peaked wall. He leaned against the side and
in the form of a demi-cupola.  Others, main surveyed it.
arteries of a mysterious circulation, lengthened  He was in a large cave.  Over his head was
out in the rock in dark and tortuous fissures. a roofing not unlike the inside of a vast skull,
They were the alleys of the submarine city; but which might have been imagined to have been
they gradually contracted from their entrances, recently dissected. The dripping ribs of the
and at length left no way for a man to pass. striated indentations of the roof seemed to imiPeering in by the help of a lighted torch, he tate the branching fibres and jagged sutures of
could see nothing but dark hollows dripping the bony cranium. A stony ceiling.and a wawith moisture.                             tery floor. The rippled waters between the
One day, Gilliatt, exploring, ventured into four walls of the cave were like wavy paving
one of these fissures. The state of the tide fa- tiles.  The grotto was shut in on all sides.
voured the attempt. It was a beautiful day of Not a window, not even an air-hole visible.
calm and sunshine. There was no fear of any No breach in the wall, no crack in the roof.
accident from the sea to increase the danger.  The light came from below and through the
Two necessities, as we have said, compelled water, a strange, sombre light.
him to undertake these explorations. He had   Gilliatt, the pupils of whose eyes had conto gather fragments of wreck and other things tracted during his explorations of the dusky
to aid him in his labour, and to search for crabs corridor, could distinguish everything about
and cray-fish for his food.  Shell-fish had be- him in the pale glimmer.
gun to fail him on the rocks.                 He was familiar, from having often visited
The fissure was narrow, and the passage dif- them, with the caves of Plemont in Jersey, the
ficult. Gilliatt could see daylight beyond. He Creaux-Maille at Guernsey, the Boutiques at
made an effort, contorted himself as much as he Sark; but none of these marvellous caverns
could, and penetrated into the cave as far as he could compare with the subterranean and subwas able.                                   marine chamber into which he had made his
He had reached, without suspecting it, the in- way.
terior of the rock, upon the point of which Clu-  Under the water at his feet Gilliatt could see
bin had driven the Durande. Though abrupt a sort of drowned arch. This arch, a. natural
and almost inaccessible without, it was hollowed ogive fashioned by the waves, was glittering
within. It was full of galleries, pits, and cham- between its two dark and profound supports.
hers, like the tomb of an Egyptian king. This It was by this submerged porch that the daynetwork of caverns was one of the most com- light entered into the cavern from the open sea.
plicated of all that labyrinth, a labour of the A strange light shooting upward from a gulf.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                 95
The glimmer spread out beneath the waters   The water had a magical transparency, and
like a large fan, and was reflected on the rocks. Gilliatt distinguished at various depths subIts direct rays, divided into long, broad shafts, merged recesses, and surfaces of jutting rocks
appeared in strong relief against the darkness ever of a deeper and a deeper green.  Certain
below, and becoming brighter or more dull from  dark hollows, too, were there, probably too deep
one rock to another, looked as if seen here and for soundings.
there through panes of glass. There was light  On each side of the submarine porch, rude
in that cave, it is true, but it was the light elliptical arches, filled with shallows, indicated
that was unearthly.. The beholder might have the position of small lateral caves, low alcoves
dreamed that he had descended in some other of the central cavern, accessible, perhaps, at cerplanet. The glimmer was an enigma, like the tain tides. These openings had roofs in the
glaucous light from the eye-pupil of a Sphinx. form of inclined planes, and at angles more or
The whole cave represented the interior of a less acute.  Little sandy beaches of a few feet
death's head of enormous proportions, and of a wide, laid bare by the action of the water, stretchstrange splendour. The vault was the hollow  ed inward, and were lost in these recesses.
of the brain, the arch the mouth; the sockets  Here and there sea-weeds of more than a
of the eyes were wanting.  This mouth, alter- fathom in length undulated beneath the water,
nately swallowing and rendering up the flux like the waving of long tresses in the wind; and
and reflux through its mouth wide opened to there were glimpses of a forest of sea-plants.
the full noonday without, seemed to drink in  Above and below the surface of the water,
the light and vomit forth bitterness-a type of the wall of the cavern from top to bottom-from
some beings intelligent and evil. The light, in the vault down to the depth at which it became
traversing this inlet through the vitreous medi- invisible —was tapestried with that prodigious
um of the sea-water, became green, like a ray efflorescence of the sea, rarely perceived by huof starlight from Aldebaran. The water, filled man eyes, which the old Spanish navigators
with this moist light, appeared like a liquid called praderias del mar. A luxuriant moss,
emerald. A tint of aqua-marina of marvelous having all the tints of the olive, enlarged and
delicacy spread a soft hue throughout the cav- concealed the protuberances of granite. From
ern. The roof, with its cerebral lodes, and its all the jutting points swung the thin fluted strips
rampant ramifications, like the fibres of nerves, ofvarech, which sailors use as their barometers.
gave out a tender reflection of chrysoprase. The light breath which stirred in the cavern
The ripples reflected on the roof were falling in waved to and fro their glossy bands.
order and dissolving again incessantly, and en-  Under these vegetations there showed themlarging and contracting their glittering scales selves from time to time some of the rarest
in a mysterious and mazy dance. They gave bijoux of the casket of the ocean; ivory shells,
the beholder an impression of something weird strombi, purple - fish, univalves, struthiolaires,
and spectral: he wondered what prey secured, turriculated cerites. The bell-shaped limpet
or what expectation about to be realized moved shells, like tiny huts, were everywhere adhering
with a joyous thrill this magnificent network to the rocks, distributed in settlements, in the
of living fire.  From  the projections of the alleys between which prowled oscabrious, those
vault and the angles of the rock hung lengths beetles of the sea. A few large pebbles found
of delicate fibrous plants, bathing their roots, their way into the cavern; shell-fish took refuge
probably through the granite, in some upper there.  The crustacea are the grandees of the
pool of water, and distilling from their silky sea, who, in their lacework and embroidery,
ends, one after the other, a drop of water like avoid the rude contact of the pebbly crowd.
a pearl. These drops fell in the water now and The glittering heap of their shells, in certain
then with a gentle splash. The effect of the spots under the wave, gave out singular irradiascene was singular.  Nothing more beautiful tions, amidst which the eye caught glimpses of
could be imagined; nothing more mournful confused azure and gold, and mother-of-pearl,
could anywhere be found.                    of every tint of the water.
It was a wondrous palace, in which death sat  Upon the side of the cavern, a little above
smiling and content.                       the water-line, a magnificent and singular plant,
attaching itself, like a fringe, to the border of
sea-weed, continued and completed it. This
XIII.                    plant, thick, fibrous, inextricably intertwined,
and almost black, exhibited to the eye large conHAT  S SEEN THERE; AND.WHAT PE- fused and dusky festoons, everywhere dotted
CEIVED DIMLY.                with innumerable little flowers of the colour of
A PLACE of shade, which yet dazzled the lapis-lazuli. In-the water they seemed to glow
eyes-such was this surprising cavern.      like small blue flames.  Out of the water they
The beating of the sea made itself felt through- were flowers; beneath it they were sapphires.
out the cavern. The oscillation without raised The water, rising and inundating the basement
and depressed the level of the waters within of the grotto clothed with these plants, seems to
with the regularity of respiration. A mysteri- cover the rock with gems.
ous spirit seemed to fill this great organism, as  At every swelling of the wave these flowers
it swelled and subsided in silence.        increased in splendour, and at every subsidence




96                          THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
grew dull again.  So is it with the destiny of wave?  How far away were life, and the green
man; aspiration is life, the outbreathing of the earth,'and human faces?  What strange enspirit is death.                            chantment haunted that mystic twilight? What
One of the marvels of the cavern was the blind emotion, mingling its sympathies with
rock itself. This rock, forming here a wall, the uneasy restlessness of plants beneath the
there an arch, and here again a pillar or pilas- wave?
ter, was in places rough and bare, and some-  At the extremity of.the cavern, which was
times close beside was wrought with the most oblong, rose a Cyclopean archivolte, singularly
delicate natural carving.  Strange evidences exact in form. It was a species of cave within
of mind mingled with the massive solidity of a cave, of tabernacle within a sanctuary. Here,
the granite. It was the wondrous art-work of behind a sheet of bright verdure, interposed like
the ocean. Here a sort of panel, cut square, the veil of a temple, arose a stone out of the
and covered with round embossments in vari- waves, having square sides, and bearing some
ous positions, simulated a vague bas-relief. Be- resemblance to an altar. The water surroundfore this sculpture, with its obscure designs, a ed it in all parts. It seemed as if a goddess
man might have dreamed of Prometheus rough- had just descended from it.  One might have
ly sketching for Michael Angelo. It seemed as dreamed there that some celestial form beneath
if that great genius with a few blows of his mal- that crypt or upon that altar dwelt for ever
let could have finished the indistinct labours of pensive in naked beauty, but grew invisible at
the giant. In other places the rock was dam- the approach of mortals. It was hard to conasked like a Saracen buckler, or engraved like ceive that majestic chamber without a vision
a Florentine vase. There were portions which within. The day-dream of the intruder might
appeared like Corinthian brass, then like ara- evoke again the marvellous apparition. A flood
besques, as on the door of a mosque; then like of chaste light falling upon white shoulders
Runic stones with obscure and mystic prints of scarcely seen; a forehead bathed with the light
claws. Plants with twisted creepers and ten- of dawn; an Olympian -visage oval-shaped; a
drils, crossing and recrossing upon the ground- bust full of mysterious grace; arms modestly
work of golden lichens, covered it with filigree. down-dropt; tresses unloosened in the aurora;
The grotto resembled in some wise a Moorish a body delicately modelled of pure whiteness,
palace.  It was a union of barbarism and of half wrapped in a sacred cloud, with the glance
goldsmith's work, with the imposing and rugged of a virgin; a Venus rising from the sea, or
architecture of the elements.               Eve issuing from chaos; such was the dream
The magnificent stains and moulderings of which filled the mind.
the sea covered, as with velvet, the angles of  The beauty of the recess seemed made for
granite. The escarpments were festooned with this celestial presence. It was for the sake of
large flowered bindweed, sustaining itself with this deity, this fairy of the pearl caverns, this
graceful ease, and ornamenting the walls as by queen of the Zephyrs, this grace born of the
intelligent design. Wall-pellitories showed their waves, it was for her —as the mind, at least,
strange clusters in tasteful arrangement. The imagined-that this subterranean dwelling had
wondrous light which came from beneath the been thus religiously walled in, so that nothing
water, at once a submarine twilight and an Ely- might ever trouble the reverend shadows and
sian radiance, softened down and blended all the majestic silence round about that divine
harsh lineaments. Every wave was a prism. spirit.
The outlines of things under these rainbow-   Gilliatt, who was a kind of seer amid the setinted undulations produced the chromatic ef- prets of Nature, stood there musing and sensible
fects of optical glasses made too convex. Solar  f confused emotions.
spectra shot through the waters. Fragments    Suddenly, at a few feet below him, in the deof rainbows seemed floating in that transparent lightful transparence of that water like liquid
dawn. Elsewhere —in other corners -there jewels, he became sensible of the approach of
was discernible a kind of moonlight in the wa- something of mystic shape. A species of long
ter. Every kind of splendour seemed to min- ragged band was moving amidst the oscillation
gle there, forming a singular sort of twilight. of the waves. It did not float, but darted about
Nothing could be more perplexing or enigmat- of its own will. It had an object; was advancical than the sumptuous beauties of this cavern. ing somewhere rapidly. The object had someEnchantment reigned over all. The fantastic thing of the form of a jester's bawble with points,
vegetation, the rude masonry of the place seem- which hung flabby and undulating. It seemed
ed to harmonize.                            covered with' a dust incapable of being washed
Was it daylight which entered by this case- away by the water. It was more than horrible;
ment beneath the sea?  Was it indeed water it was foul. The beholder felt that it was somewhich trembled in this dusky pool? Were not thing monstrous. It was a living thing; unthese arched roofs and porches fashioned out less, indeed, it were but an illusion. It seemed
of sunset clouds to imitate a cavern to men's to be seeking the darker portion of the cavern,
eyes?  What stone was that beneath the feet? where at last it vanished. The heavy shadows
Was not this solid shaft about to melt and pass grew darker as its sinister form  glided into
into thin air?  What was that cunning jewel- them and disappeared.
lery of glittering shells, half seen beneath the




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                  97
BOOK II,
THE LABOUR.
I.                        Any one who intends to construct hoisting
tackle ought to provide himself with beams and
THE  OUR   OF ONE WHO HAS NOTNG. small cables. But that is not sufficient. He
THE cavern did not easily part with its ex- must have cordage. Gilliatt restored the cables,
plorers.  The entry had been difficult; going large and small. He frayed out the tattered
back was more difficult still.  Gilliatt, how- sails, and succeeded in converting them into an
ever, succeeded in extricating himself; but he excellent yarn, of which he made twine. With
did not return there.  He had found nothing this he joined the cordage. The joins, howof what he was in quest of, and he had not the ever, were liable to rot.  It was necessary,
time to indulge curiosity.                  therefore, to hasten to make use of these caHe put the forge in operation at once. bles.    He had only been able to make white
Tools were wanting; he set to work and made tow, for he was without tar.
them.                                         The ropes mended, he proceeded to repair
For fuel he had the wreck; for motive force, the chains.
the water; for his bellows, the wind; for his  Thanks to the lateral point of the stone ananvil, a stone; for art, his instinct; for power, vil, which served the part of the bicorn conoid,
his will.                                   he was able to forge rings, rude in shape, but
Gilliatt entered with ardour upon his sombre strong. With these he fastened together the
labours.                                    severed lengths of chains, and made long pieces.
The weather seemed to smile upon his work.  To work at a forge without assistance is
It continued to be dry and free from equinoc- something more than troublesome.  He suetial gales.  The month of March had come, ceeded nevertheless.   It is true that he had
but it was tranquil. The days grew longer. only to forge and shape articles of comparaThe blue of the sky, the gentleness of all the tively small size, which he was'able to handle
movements of the scene, the serenity of the with the pliers in one hand, while he hammered
noontide, seemed to exclude the idea of mis- with the other.
chief. The waves danced merrily in the sun-   He cut the iron bars of the captain's bridge,
light. A Judas kiss is the first step to treach- on which he used to pass to and fro from padery; of such caresses the ocean is prodigal. dle-box to paddle-box giving his orders, into
Her smile, like that of woman's sometimes, lengths; forged at one extremity of each piece
cannot be trusted.                          a point, and at the other a flat head. By this
There was little wind. The hydraulic bel- means he manufactured large nails of about a
lows worked all the better for that reason. foot in length.  These nails, much used in
Much wind would have embarrassed rather pontoon making, are useful in fixing anything
than aided it. Gilliatt had a saw; he manu- in rocks,
factured for himself a file. With the saw he  What was his object in all these labours?
attacked the wood; with the file, the metal. We shall see.
Then he availed himself of the two iron hands  He was several times compelled to renew
of the smith —the pincers and the pliers. The the blade of his hatchet and the teeth of his
pincers gripe, the pliers handle; the one is like saw. For renotching the saw he had manuthe closed hand, the other like the fingers. By factured a special file.
degrees he made for himself a number of auxil-  Occasionally he made use of the capstan of
iaries, and constructed his armour. With a the Durande. The hook of the chain broke:
piece of hoop-wood he made a screen for his he made inother.
forge fire.                                   By the aid of his pliers and pincers, and by
One of his principal labours was the sorting using his chisel as a screw-driver, he set to
and repair of pulleys. He mended both the work to remove the two paddle-wheels of the
blocks and the sheaves of tackle. He cut down vessel; an object which he accomplished. This
the irregularities of all broken joists, and re- was rendered practicable by reason of a pecushaped the extremities. He had, as we have liarity in their construction. The paddle-boxes
said, for the necessities of his carpentry, a quan- which covered them served him to stow them
tity of pieces of wood, stored away, and arranged away. With the planks of these paddle-boxes
according to the forms, the dimensions, and the he made two cases, in which he deposited the
nature of their grain; the oak on one side, the two paddles, piece by piece, each part being
pine on the other; the short pieces like riders carefully numbered.
separated from the straight pieces like binding  His piece of chalk became precious for this
strakes. This formed his reserve of supports purpose.
and levers, of which he might stand in great  He kept the two cases upon the strongest
need at any moment,                         part of the wreck.
G




98                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
When these preliminaries were completed,    The untaught mechanic had his helpmateGilliatt found himself face to face with the his son; Gilliatt was alone.
great difficulty.  The pIblem of the engine   A crowd gathered together fiom Meung-surof the Durande was now clearly before him.  Loire, from Nevers, and even from Orleans,
Taking the paddle-wheels to pieces had able at time of need to assist the mason of Salproved practicable. It was very different with bris, and to encourage him with their friendly
the machinery.                             voices.  Gilliatt had around him no voices but
In the first place, he was almost entirely ig- those of the wind; no crowd but the assemnorant of the details of the mechanism. Work- blage of waves.
ing thus blindly he might do some irreparable  There is nothing more remarkable than the
damage.   Then, even in attempting to dis- timidity of ignorance, unless it be its temerity.
member it, if he had ventured on that course, When ignorance becomes daring, she has somefar other tools would be necessary than such as times a sort of compass within herself-the inhe could fabricate with a cavern for a forge, a tuition of the truth, clearer oftentimes in a simwind-draught for bellows, and a stone for an ple mind than in a learned brain.
anvil.  In attempting, therefore, to take to  Ignorance invites to an attempt.  It is a
pieces the machinery, there was the risk of de- state of wonderment, which, with its concomistroying it.                               tant curiosity, forms a power. Knowledge
The attempt seemed at first sight wholly im- often enough disconcerts and makes overcaupracticable.                                tious. Gama, had he known what lay before
The apparent impossibility of the project rose him, would have recoiled before the Cape of
before him like a stone wall, blocking further Storms.  If Columbus had been a great geogprogress.                                  rapher, he might have failed to discover AmerWhat was to be done?                     ica.
The second successful climber of Mont Blanc
was the savant, Saussure; the first the goatII.                     herd, Balmat.
These instances, I admit, are exceptions,
PREPARATIONS.                 which detract nothing from science, which reGILLIATT had a notion.                   mains the rule. The ignorant man may disSince the time of the carpenter-mason of Sal- cover; it is the learned who invent.
bris, who, in the sixteenth century, in the dark  The sloop was still at anchor in the creek of
ages of science-long before Amontons had dis- "The Man" rock, where the sea left it in peace.
covered the first law of electricity, or Lahire the Gilliatt, as will be remembered, had arranged
second, or Coulomb the third-without other everything for maintaining constant communihelper than a child, his son, with ill-fashioned cation with it. He visited the sloop and meastools, in the chamber of the great clock of La ured her beam carefully in several parts, but
Charite-sur-Loire, resolved at one stroke five or particularly her midship frame. Then he resix problems in statics and dynamics inextrica- turned to the Durande and measured the diambly intervolved like the wheels in a block of eter of the floor of the engine-room. This diamcarts and wagons-since the time of the grand eter, of course, without the paddles, was two
and marvellous achievement of the poor work- feet less than the broadest part of the deck of
man, who found means, without breaking. a sin- his bark.  The machinery therefore might be
gle piece of wire, without throwing one of the put aboard the sloop.
teeth of the wheels out of gear, to lower in one  But how could it be got there?
piece, by a marvellous simplification, from the
second story of the clock tower to the first, thatmassive monitor of the hours, made all of iron
and brass, "large as the room in which the                     III.
man watches at night from the tower," with its
-,       GILLIATT S MASTERPIECE COMES TO THE RESmotion, its cylinders, its barrels, its drum, its
CUE OF LETHIERRY.
hooks, and its weights, the barrel of its spring
steel-yard, its horizontal pendulum, the hold-  ANY fisherman who had been mad enough to
fasts of its escapement, its reels of large and loiter in that season in the neighbourhood of
small chains, its stone weights, one of which Gilliatt's labours about this time would have
weighed five hundred pounds, its bells, its peals, been repaid for his hardihood by a singular
its jacks that strike the hours-since the days, sight between the two Douvres.
I say, of the man who accomplished this mira-  Before his eyes would have appeared four
cle, and of whom posterity knows not even the stout beams, at equal distances, stretching from
name-nothing that could be compared with one Douvre to the other, and apparently forced
the project which Gilliatt was meditating had into the rock, which is the firmest of all holds.
ever been attempted.                        On the Little Douvre, their extremities were
The ponderousness, the delicacy, the involve- laid and buttressed upon the projections of rock.
ment of the difficulties were not less in the ma- On the Great Douvre, they had been driven in
chinery of the Durande than in the clock of La by blows of a hammer, by the powerful hand
Charite-sur-Loire.                         of some workman standing upright upon the




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                99
beam itself. These supports were a little longer structed, three centuries later, the mechanism
than the distance between the rocks.:Hence of the Salbris carpenter, a mechanism rude and
the firmness of their hold; and hence, also, incorrect, and hazardous for him who would
their slanting position. They touched the dare to use it.
Great Douvre at an acute, and the Little Dou-  Here let us remark that the rudest defects do
vre at an obtuse angle. Their inclination was not prevent a mechanism from working well or
only slight; but it was unequal, which was a ill. It may limp, but it moves. The obelisk
defect. But for this defect, they might have in the square of St. Peter's at Rome is erected
been supposed to be prepared to receive the in a way which offends against all the principles
planking of a deck. To these four beams were of statics. The carriage of the Czar Peter was
attached four sets of hoisting apparatus, each so constructed that it appeared about to overhaving its pendent and its tackle-fall, with the turn at every step, but it travelled onward for
bold peculiarity of having the tackle-blocks with all that. What deformities are there in the
two sheaves at one extremity of the beam, and machinery of Marly! Everything that is hetthe simple pulleys at the opposite end. This erodox in hydraulics.  Yet it did not supply
distance, which was too great not to be perilous, Louis XIV. the less with water.
was necessitated by the operations to be effect- - Come what might, Gilliatt had faith. He
ed. The blocks were firm and the pulleys had even anticipated success so confiTely as to
strong. To this tackle-gear cables were attach- fix in the bulwarks of the sloop, on the day when
ed, which from a distance looked like threads; he measured its proportions, two pairs of correwhile beneath this apparatus of tackle and car- sponding iron rings on each side, exactly at the
pentry, in the air, the massive hull of the Du- same distances as the four rings on board the
rande seemed suspended by threads.         Durande, to which were attached the four chains
She was not yet suspended, however. Under of the funnel.
the cross-beams, eight perpendicular holes had  He had in his mind a very complete and setbeen made in the deck, four on the port, and tied plan. All the chances being against him,
four on the starboard side of the engine; eight he had evidently determined that all the precauother holes had been made beneath them through tions at least should be on his side.
the keel.  The cables, descending vertically  He did some things which seemed useless; a
from the four tackle-blocks, through the deck, sign of attentive premeditation.
passed out at the keel, and under the machin-  His manner of proceeding would, as we have
ery, re-entered the ship by the holes on the oth- said, have puzzled an observer, even though faer side, and passing again upward through the miliar with mechanical operations.
deck, returned, and were wound round the beams  A witness of his labour who had seen him,
at a spot where a sort of jigger-tackle held them  for example, with enormous efforts, and at the
in a bunch bound fast to a single cable, capable risk of breaking his neck, driving with blows of
of being directed by one arm. The single ca- his hammer eight or ten great nails which he
ble passed over a hook, and through a dead-eye, had forged into the base of the two Douvres at
which completed the apparatus, and kept it in the entrance of the defile between them, would
check. This combination compelled the four have had some difficulty in understanding the
tacklings to work together, and, acting as a con- objects of these nails, and would probably have
plete restraint upon the suspending powers, be- wondered what could be the use of all that
came a sort of dynamical rudder in the hand of trouble.
the pilot of the operation, maintaining the move-  If he had then seen Gilliatt measuring the
ments in equilibrium.  The ingenious adjust- portion of the fore bulwark which had remainment of this system of tackling had some of the ed, as we have described it, hanging on by the
simplifying qualities of the Weston pulley of wreck, then attaching a strong cable to the upthese times, with a mixture of the antique poly- per edge of that portion, cutting away with
spaston of Vitruvius. Gilliatt had discovered strokes of his hatchet the dislocated fastenings
this, although he knew nothing of the dead Vi- which held it, then dragging it out of the defile,
truvius or of the still unborn Weston. The pushing the lower part by the aid of the recedlength of the cables varied, according to the un- ing tide, while he dragged the upper part; finalequal declivity of the cross-beams.  The ropes ly, by great labour, fastening with the cable this
were dangerous, for the untarred hemp was lia- heavy mass of planks and piles, wider than the
ble to give way. Chains would have been bet- entrance of the defile itself, with the nails drivter in this respect, but chains would not have en into the base of the Little Douvre, the obpassed well through the tackle-blocks.    server would perhaps have found it still more
The apparatus was full of defects; but as the difficult to comprehend, and might have wonwork of one man, it was surprising. For the dered why Gilliatt, if he wanted, for the purpose
rest, the reader will understand that many de- of his operations, to disencumber the space betails are omitted which would render the con- tween the two rocks of this mass, had not alstruction intelligible to practical mechanics, but lowed it to fall into the sea, where the tide
obscure to others.                        would have carried it away,
The top of the funnel passed between the  Gilliatt had probably his reasons.
two beams in the middle.                     In fixing the nails in the basement of the
Gilliatt, without suspecting it, had recon- rocks, he had taken advantage of all the cracks




100                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
in the granite, enlarged them where needful, hair was rough and wild and his beard long,
and driven in first of all wedges of wood, in had no fear of him. The change in his face
which he fixed the nails.  He made a rough gave them confidence; he had lost resemblance
commencement of similar preparations in the to men, and taken the form of the wild beast.
two rocks which rose at the other extremity of  The birds and Gilliatt, in fact, had become
the narrow passage on the eastern side.  He good friends.  Companions in poverty, they
furnished with plugs of wood all the crevices, as helped each other. As long as he had had any
if he desired to keep these also ready to hold meal, he had crumbled for them some little bits
nails or clamps; but tlis appeared to be a sim- of the cakes he made. In his deeper distress,
pie precaution, for he did not use them fur- they showed him in their turn the places where
ther.  He was compelled to economize, and he might find the little pools of water.
only to use his materials as he had need, and  He ate the shell-fish raw.  Shell-fish help in
at the moment when the nrecessity for them  a certain degree to quench the thirst. The
/came. This was another addition to his nu- crabs he cooked. Having no kettle, he roasted
merous difficulties.                       them between two stones made red-hot in his
As fast as one labour was accomplished an- fire, after the manner of the savages of the Faother became necessary. Gilliatt passed with- roe Islands.
out hesitation from task to task, and resolutely  Meanwhile signs of the equinoctial season
accomplished his giant strides.             had begun to appear.  There came rain-an
angry rain. No showers or steady torrents, but
* -— ^~ —-  ~    fine, sharp, icy, penetrating points, which pierced
to his skin through his clothing, and to his bones
IV.                     through his skin. It was a rain which yielded
little water for drinking, but which drenched
SUB RE.                   him none the less.
THE aspect of the man who accomplished all  Chary of assistance, prodigal of misery-such
these labors became terrible,.              was the character of these rains. During one
Gilliatt in his multifarious tasks expended all week Gilliatt suffered from them all day and all
his strength at once, and regained it with diffi-'night.
culty.                                        At night, in his rocky recess, nothing but the
Privations on the one hand, lassitude on the overpowering fatigue of his daily work enabled
other, had much reduced him.  His hair and him to get sleep. The great sea-gnats stung
beard had grown long.  Hel had but one shirt him, and he awakened covered with blisters.
which was not in rags.  He went about naked-  He had a kind of low fever, which sustained
footed, the wind having carried away one of his him; this fever is a succour which destroys.
shoes and the sea the other. Fractures of the By instinct he chewed the mosses, or sucked the
rude and dangerous stone anvil which he used leaves of wild cochlearia, scanty tufts of which
had left small wounds upon his hands and arms, grew in the dry crevices of the rocks.  Of his
the marks of labour.  These wounds, or rather suffering, however, he took little heed. He had
scratches, were superficial, but the keen air and no time to spare from his work to the considerthe salt sea irritated them continually.    ation of his own privations.  The rescue of the
He was generally hungry, thirsty, and cold.  machinery of the Durande was progressing well.
His store of fresh water was gone; his rye- That sufficed for him.
meal was used or eaten.  He had nothing left  Every now and then, for the necessities of his
but a little biscuit.                       work, he jumped into the water, swam to some
This he broke with his teeth, having no wa- point, and gained a footing again. He simply
ter in which to steep it.                  plunged into the sea and left it, as a man passes
By little and little, and day by day, his pow- fiom one room in his dwelling to another.
ers decreased.                              IHis clothing was never dry. It was saturaThe terrible rocks were consuming his exist- ted with rain-water, which had no time to dry,
ence.                                       and with sea-water, which never dries. He
How to get food was a problem; how to get lived perpetually wet.
drink was a problem; how to get rest was a    Living in wet clothing is a habit which may
problem.                                    be acquired. The poor groups of Irish people,
He ate when he was fortunate enough to find old men, mothers, girls almost naked, and ina cray-fish or a crab; he drank when he chanced fants, who pass the winter in the open air, unto see a sea-bird descend upon a point of rock; der the snow and rain, huddled together, somefor on climbing up to the spot he generally times at the corners of houses in the streets of
found there a hollow with a little fresh water. London, live and die in this condition.
He drank from it after the bird, sometimes with  To be soaked with wet, and yet to be thirsty
the bird, for the gulls and sea-mews had become -Gilliatt grew familiar with this strange toraccustomed to him, and no longer. flew away at ture.  There were times when he was glad to
his approach. Even in his greatest need of suck the sleeve of his loose coat.
food he did not att emptonmo lest them. -He   The fire which he made scarcely warmed
had, as will be -iemembered, a-superstition about him.  A fire in open air yields little comfort..
birds. The birds on their part, now that his One burns on one side and freezes on the other.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                101
Gilliatt often, sometimes, shivered even while conspiracy to stifle with indifference the temersweating over his forge.                    ity of a living being; the wintry winds, the
Everywhere about him rose resistance amidst clouds, and the beleaguering waves enveloped
a sort of terrible silence.  He felt himself the him, closed round him slowly, and in a measure
enemy of an unseen combination.  There is a shut him in, and separated him from compandismal zon-possumus in nature. The inertia of ionship, like a dungeon built up by degrees
matter is like a sullen threat. A mysterious round a living man.  All against him; nothing
persecution environed him.  He suffered from, for him; he felt himself isolated, abandoned,
heats and shiverings.  The fire ate into his enfeebled, sapped, forgotten.  His storehouse
flesh; the water froze him; feverish thirst tor- empty, his tools broken or defective; he was
mented him; the wind tore his clothing; hun- tormented with hunger and thirst by day, with
ger undermined the organs of the body. The cold by night. His sufferings had left him with
oppression of all these things was constantly wounds and tatters, rags covering sores, torn
exhausting him.  Obstacles silent, immense, hands, bleeding feet, wasted limbs, pallid cheeks,
seemed to converge from all points, with the and eyes bright with a strange light; but this
blind irresponsibility of fate, yet full of a savage was the steady flame of his determination.
unanimity.  He felt them pressing inexorably  All his efforts seemed to tend to the impossiupon him. No means were there of escaping ble.   His success was trifling and slow.  He
from them. His sufferings produced the im- was compelled to expend much labour for very
pression of some living persecutor.  He had a little results. This it was that gave to his strugconstant sense of something working against gle its noble and pathetic character.
him, of a hostile form ever present, ever labour-  That it should have required so many prepaing to circumvent and to subdue him. He rations, so much toil, so many cautious expericould have fled from the struggle; but since ments, such nights of hardship, and such days
he remained, he had no choice but to war with of danger, merely to set up four beams over a
this impenetrable hostility.  He asked himself shipwrecked vessel, to divide and isolate file
what this was. It took hold of him, grasped portion that could be saved, and to adjust to
him tightly, overpowered him, deprived him of that wreck within a wreck four. tackle-blocks
breath. The invisible persecutor was destroy- with their cables, was only the result of his soliing him by slow degrees. Every day the op- tary labour.
pression became greater, as if a mysterious screw  That solitary position Gilliatt had more than
had received another turn.                  accepted; he had deliberately chosen it. DreadHis situation in this dreadful spot resembled ing a competitor, because a competitor might
a duel, in which a suspicion of some treachery have proved a rival, he had sought for no assisthaunts the mind of one of the combatants.   ance. The overwhelming enterprise, the risk,
Now it seemed a coalition of obscure forces the danger, the toil multiplied by itself, the possurrounded him. He felt that there was some- sible destruction of the salvor in his work, famwhere a determination to be rid of his presence. ine, fever, nakedness, distress -he had chosen
iIt is thus that the glacier chases the loitering all these for himself! Such was his selfishness.
lice-block.                                 He was like a man placed in some terrible chamAlmost without seeming to touch him, this her which is being slowly exhausted of air. His
latent condition had reduced him to rags; had vitality was leaving him by little and little. He
left him bleeding, distressed, and as it were, hiors scarcely perceived it.
de combat, even before the battle. He laboured,  Exhaustion of the bodily strength does not
indeed, not the less-without pause or rest; but necessarily exhaust the will. Faith is only a
as the work advanced, the workman himself lost secondary power; the will is the first. The
ground. It might have been fancied that Na- mountains, which faith is proverbially said to
ture, dreading his bold spirit, adopted the plan move, are nothing beside that which the will
of slowly undermining his bodily power.  Gil- can accomplish. All that Gilliatt lost in vigliatt kept his ground, and left the rest to the our he gained in tenacity. The destruction of
future. The sea had begun by consuming him; the physical man under the oppressive influence
what would come next?                       of that wild surrounding sea, and rock, and sky,
The double Douvres-that dragon made of seemed only to reinvigorate his moral nature.
granite, and lying in ambush in mid-ocean-had? Gilliatt felt no fatigue; or, rather, would not
sheltered him. It had allowed him to enter, yield to any. The refusal of the mind to recand to do his will; but its hospitality resembled ognise the failings of the body is in itself an imthe welcome of devouring jaws.              mense power.
The desert, the boundless surface, the unfath-  He saw nothing except the steps which were
omable space around him and above, so full of making in the progress of his labours.
negatives to man's will; the mute, inexorable  His object-now seeming so near attainment
determination of phenomena following their ap- -wrapped him in perpetual illusions.
pointed course; the grand general law of things,  He endured all this suffering without any
implacable and passive; the ebbs and flows; other thought than is comprised in the word
the rocks themselves, dark Pleiades whose points "Forward."  His work flew to his head; the
were each a star amid vortices, a centre of an strength of the will is intoxicating. Its intoxiirradiation of currents; the strange, indefinable cation is called heroism.




102                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
He had become a kind of Job, having the     Is the night calm and cloudless?  It is then
ocean for the scene of his sufferings. But he a depth of shadow. Is it stormy?  It is then
was a Job wrestling with difficulty; a Job com- a sea of cloud. Its limitless deeps reveal thembating and making head against afflictions; a selves to us, and yet baffle our gaze; close
Job conquering; a combination of Job and Pro- themselves against research, but open to conmetheus, if such names are not too great to be jecture. Its innumerable dots of light only
applied to a poor sailor and fisher of crabs and make deeper the obscurity beyond. Jewels,
cray-fish.                                  scintillations, stars; existences revealed in the,_ —                    unknown universes; dread defiances to man's
approach; landmarks of the infinite creation;
V.                      boundaries there, where there are no bounds;
sea-marks impossible, and yet real, numbering
sUnB UMBRA.          the fathoms of those infinite deeps.  One miSOIETIMES in the night-time Gilliatt woke croscopic glittering point; then another; then
and peered into the darkness.               another; imperceptible, yet enormous. Yonder
He felt a strange emotion.                light is a focus; that focus is a star; that star
His eyes were opened upon the black night; is a sun; that sun is a universe; that universe
the situation was dismal-full of disquietude.  is nothing; for all numbers are as zero in the
There is such a thing as the pressure of dark- presence of the Infinite.
ness.                                         These worlds, which yet are nothing, exist.
A strange roof of shadow; a deep obscurity Through this fact we feel the difference which
which no diver can explore; a-light mingled separates the being nothing from the not to be.
with that obscurity, of a strange, subdued, and  All these vague imaginings, increased and
sombre kind; floating atoms of rays, like a dust intensified by solitude, weighed upon Gilliatt.
of seeds or of ashes; millions of lamps, but no  He understood them little, but he felt them.
illumining; a vast sprinkling of fire, of which His was a powerful intellect clouded; a great
no man knows the secret; a diffusion'of shining spirit wild and untaught.
points, like a drift of sparks arrested in their
course; the disorder of the whirlwind, with the
fixedness of death; a mysterious and abyssmal                  vI.
depth; an enigma, at once showing and concealing its face; the infinite in its mask of darkness  ILLIATT PLACES TIE SLOOP IN READINESS.
-these are the synonyms of night. Its weight  THIS rescue of the machinery of the wreck
lies heavily on the soul of man.            as meditated by Gilliatt was, as we have alThis union of all mysteries-the mystery of ready said, like the escape of a criminal from
the Cosmos and the mystery of Fate-oppresses a prison-necessitating all the patience and inhuman reason.                               dustry recorded of such achievements; industry
The pressure of darkness acts in inverse pro- carried to the point of a miracle, patience only
portion upon different kinds of natures. In the to be compared with long agony. A certain
presence of night man feels his own incomplete- prisoner named Thomas, at the Mont Saint
ness. He perceives the dark void and is sensi- Michel, found means of secreting the greater
ble of infirmity. It is like the vacancy of blind- part of a wall in his palliasse. Another at'ness. Face to face with night, man bends, Tulle, in 1820, cut away a quantity of lead from
kneels, prostrates himself, crouches on the earth, the terrace where the prisoners walked for excrawls towards a cave, or seeks for wings. Al- ercise.  With what kind of knife?  No one
most always he shrinks from that vague presence would guess. And melted this lead with what
of the Infinite Unknown. He asks himself fire?    None have ever discovered; but it is
what it is; he trembles and bows the head. known that he cast it in a mould made of the
Sometimes he desires to go to it.           crumb of bread. With this lead and this mould
To go whither?                            he made a key, and with this key succeeded in
He can only answer " Yonder."            opening a lock of which he had never seen anyBut what is that? and what is there?     thing but the keyhole.  Some of this marvelThis curiosity is evidently forbidden to the lons ingenuity Gilliatt possessed. He had once
spirit of man, for all around him the roads climbed and descended from the cliff at Boiswhich bridge that gulf are broken up or gone. rose. He was the Baron Trenck of the wreck,
No arch exists for him to span the Infinite. and the Latude of her machinery.
But there is attraction in forbidden knowledge,  The sea, like a jailer, kept watch over him.
as in the edge of the abyss. Where the foot-  For the rest, mischievous -and -inclement- as
step cannot tread, the eye may reach; where the rain had been, he had contrived to derive
the eye can penetrate no further, the mind may some benefit from it. He had in part replensoar. There is no man, however feeble or in- ished his stock of fresh water; but his thirst
sufficient his resources, who does not essay. was inextinguishable, and he emptied his can
According to his nature, he questions or recoils as fast as he filled it.
before that mystery. With some it has the ef-  One day-it was on the last day of April or
feet of repressing; with others it enlarges the the first of May-all was at length ready for his
soul. The spectacle is sombre, indefinite.  purpose.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               103
The engine-room was as it were enclosed be- die-wheels, the slings of which were all ready.
tween the eight cables hanging from the tackle- The two cases served as ballast.
blocks, four on one side, four on the other.  Relieved of these encumbrances, he fastened
The sixteen holes upon the deck and under the to the hook of the chain of the capstan the sling
keel, through which the cables passed, had been of the regulating tackle-gear, intending to check
hooped round by sawing. The planking had the pulleys.
been sawed, the timber cut with the hatchet,.  Owing to the peculiar objects of this labour,
the ironwork with a file, the sheathing with the the defects of the old sloop became useful qualchisel. The part of the keel immediately un- ities. It had no deck; her burden, therefore,
der the machinery was cut squarewise, and would have greater depth, and could rest upon
ready to descend with it while still supporting the hold. Her mast was very forward-too far
it. All this frightful swinging mass was held forward, indeed, for general purposes; her cononly by one chain, which was itself only kept tents, therefore, would have more room; and
in position by a filed notch. At this stage, in the mast standing thus beyond the mass of the
such a labour and so near its completion, haste wreck, there would be nothing to hinder its disis prudence,                              embarkation. It was a mere shell or case for
The water was low; the moment favourable. receiving it; but nothing is more stable than
Gilliatt had succeeded in removing the axle this on the sea.
of the paddles, the extremities of which might  While engaged in these operations, Gilliatt
have proved an obstacle and checked the de- suddenly perceived that the sea was rising.
scent. He had contrived to make this heavy He looked around to see from what quarter the
portion fast in a vertical position within the wind was coming.
engine-room itself.
It was time to bring his work to an end. 
The workman, as we have said, was not wea-                   VI.
ry, for his will was strong, but his tools were.
The forge was by degrees becoming impracti-            SUDDEN DANGER.
cable. The blower had begun to work badly.   THE breeze was scarcely perceptible, but
The little hydraulic fall being of sea-water, what there was came from the west-a disasaline deposits had encrusted the joints of the greeable habit of the winds during the equiapparatus, and prevented its free action.  noxes.
Gilliatt visited the creek of "The Man" rock,  The rising sea varies much in its effects upon
examined the sloop, and assured himself that the Douvres rocks, depending upon the quarter
all was in good condition, particularly the four of the wind.
rings fixed to starboard and to larboard; then  According to the gale which drives them behe weighed anchor, and worked the heavy, fore it, the waves enter the rocky corridor eibarge-shaped craft with the oars till he brought ther from the east or from the west. Entering
it alongside the two Douvres. The defile be- from the east, the sea is comparatively, gentle;
tween the rocks was wide enough to admit it. coming from the west, it is always furious.
There was also depth enough. On the day of The reason of this is, that the wind from the
his arrival he had satisfied himself that it was east, blowing from the land, has not had time
possible to push the sloop under the Durande.  to gather force; while the westerly winds, comThe feat, however, was difficult; it required ing from the Atlantic, blow unchecked from a
the minute precision of a watchmaker. The vast ocean. Even a very slight breeze, if it
operation was all the more delicate, from the comes from the west, is serious. It rolls the
fact that, for his objects, he was compelled to huge billows from the illimitable space, and
force it in by the stern, rudder first. It was dashes the waves against the narrow defile in
necessary that the mast and the rigging of the greater bulk than can find entrance there.
sloop should project beyond the wreck in the  A sea which rolls into a gulf is always terridirection of the sea.                     ble. It is the same with a crowd of people; a
These embarrassments rendered all Gilliatt's multitude is a sort of fluid body. When the
operations awkward. It was not like entering quantity which can enter is less than the quanthe creek of "The Man," where it was a mere tity endeavouring to force a way, there is a fatal
affair of the tiller. It was necessary here to crush among the crowd, a fierce convulsion on
push, drag, row, and take soundings all togeth- the water. As long as the west wind blows,
er. Gilliatt consumed but a quarter of an hour however slight the breeze, the Douvres are
in these manceuvres, but he was successful.  twice a day subjected to that rude assault. The
In fifteen or twenty minutes the sloop was sea rises, the tide breasts up, the narrow gullet
adjusted under the wreck. It was almost wedged gives little entrance; the waves, driven against
in there. By means of his two anchors he moor- it violently, rebound and roar, and a tremened the boat by head and stern. The strongest dous surf beats the two sides of the gorge.
of the two was placed so as to be efficient against Thus the Douvres, during the slightest wind
the strongest wind that blows, which was that from the west, present the singular spectacle of
from the south-west. Then, by the aid of a a sea comparatively calm without, while within
lever and the capstan, he lowered into the sloop the rocks a storm is raging. This tumult of
the two cases containing the pieces of the pad- waters, altogether confined and circumscribed,




104                       THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
has nothing of the character of a tempest. It granite; swung this apparatus of planks upon
is a mere local outbreak among the waves, but them, like the gates of a great dock, and turned
a terrible one. As regards the winds from the their sides, as he would turn a rudder, outward
north and south, they strike the rocks crosswise, to the waves, which pushed the extremities upon
and cause little surf in the passage. The en- the Great Douvre, while the rope hinges detaintrance by the east, a fact which must be borne ed the other extremities upon the Little Douvre;
in mind, was close to "The Man" rock. The next he contrived, by means of the huge nails
redoubtable opening to the west was at the op- fixed beforehand for the purpose, to fix the same
posite extremity, exactly between the two Dou- kind of fastenings upon the Great Douvre as on
vres.                                     the little one; made completely fast the vast
It was at this western entrance that Gilliatt mass of wood-work against the two pillars of
found himself with the wrecked Durande, and the gorge, slung a chain across this barrier,
the sloop made fast beneath it.           like a baldric upon a cuirass, and, in less than
A  catastrophe seemed inevitable.  There an hour, this barricade against the sea was comr
was not much wind, but it was sufficient for plete, and the gullet of the rocks closed as by a
the impending mischief.                   folding door.
Before many hours, the swell which was ris-  This powerful apparatus, a heavy mass of
ing would be rushing with full force into the beams and planks, which laid flat would have
gorge of the Douvres. The first waves were made a raft, and upright formed a wall, had by
already breaking. This swell and eddy of the the aid of the water been handled by Gilliatt
entire Atlantic would have behind it the im- with the adroitness of a juggler. It might almense sea. There would be ho squall, no vio- most have been said that the obstruction was
lence; but a simple overwhelming wave, which, complete before the rising sea had the time to
commencing on the coasts of America, rolls to- perceive it.
wards the shores of Europe with an impetus  It was one of those occasions on which Jean
gathered over two thousand leagues.  This Bart would have employed the famous expreswave, a gigantic ocean barrier. meeting the sion which he applied to the sea every time he
gap of the rocks, must be caught between the narrowly escaped shipwreck, "We have cheattwo Douvres, standing like watch-towers at the ed the Englishman;" for it is well known that
entrance, or like pillars of the defile. Thus when that famous admiral meant to speak conswelled by'the tide, augmented by resistance, temptuously of the ocean he called it "the Endriven back by the shoals, and urged on by the glishman."
wind, it would strike the rock with violence;  The entrance to the defile being thus proand with all the contortions from the obstacles tected, Gilliatt thought of the sloop.  He
it had encountered, and all the frenzy of a sea loosened sufficient cable for the two anchors
confined in limits, would rush between the rocky to allow her to rise with the tide; an operation
walls, where it would reach the sloop and the similar to what the mariners of old called
Durande, and, in all probability, destroy them.  "mouiller avec des erbossures."  In all this,
A shield against this danger was wanting. Gilliatt was not taken the least by surprise;
Gilliatt had one.                         the necessity had been foreseen. A seaman
The problem was to prevent the sea reach- would have perceived it by the two pulleys of
ing it at one bound; to obstruct it from strik- the top ropes cut in the form of snatch-blocks,
ing, while allowing it to rise; to bar the pas- and fixed behind the sloop, through which
sage without refusing it admission;' to prevent passed two ropes, the ends of which were slung
the compression of the water in the gorge, which through the rings of the anchors.
was the whole danger; to turn an eruption into  Meanwhile the tide was rising fast; the half
a simple flood; to extract, as it were, from the flood had arrived, a moment when the shock
waves all their violence, and constrain the fu- of the waves, even in comparatively moderate
ries to be gentle; it was, in fact, to substitute weather, may become considerable. Exactly
an obstacle which will appease for an obstacle what Gilliatt expected came to pass. The
which irritates,                          waves rolled violently against the barrier, struck
Gilliatt, with all that dexterity which he pos- it, broke heavily, and passed beneath. Outside
sessed, and which is so much more efficient was the heavy swell; within, the waters ran
than mere force, sprang upon the rocks like a quietly. } He had devised a sort of marine
chamois among the mountains or a monkey in Furcce caudince. The sea was conquered.
the forest, using for his tottering and dizzy
strides the smallest projecting stone; leaping 
into the water, and issuing from it again; swimming arhong the shoals and clambering the                   VIII.
rocks, with a rope between his teeth and a malMOVEMENT RATHER THAN PROGRESS.
let in his hand. Thus he detached the cable
which kept suspended and also fast to the base-  THE moment so long dreaded had come.
ment of the Little Douvre the end of the for-  The problem now was to place the machinery
ward bulwark of the Durande; fashioned out in the bark.
of some ends of hawsers a sort of hinges, hold-  Gilliatt remained thoughtful for some moing this bulwark to the huge nails fixed in the ments, holding the elbow of his left arm in his




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               105
right hand, and applying his left hand to his the apparatus, thus reduced from many to one,
forehead.                                  and by bringing them into united action. The
Then he climbed upon the wreck, one part of gear had some similarity to a bridle of a bowwhich, containing the engine, was to be parted line, except that instead of trimming a sail it
from it, while the other remained.         served to balance a complicated mechanism.
He severed the four slings which fixed the  Erect, and with his hand upon the capstan,
four chains from the funnel on the larboard and Gilliatt, so to speak, was enabled to feel the
the starboard sides. The slings being only of pulse of the apparatus.
cord, his knife served him well enough for this  It w as h.ergeehathish i.nvyeOntive genius manipurpose.                                   fested itself.
The four chains, set free, hung down along  T remakable coincidence of forces was the
the sides of the funnel.                  result.
From the wreck he climbed up to the appa-  While the machinery of the Durande, deratus which he had constructed, stamped with tached in a mass, was lowering to the sloop,
his feet upon the beams, inspected the tackle- the sloop rose slowly to receive it. The wreck
-blocks, looked to the pulleys; handled the cables, and the salvage vessel assisting each other in
examined the eking-pieces, assured himself that opposite ways, saved half the labour of the opthe untarred hemp was not saturated through, eration.
found that nothing was wanting and nothing   The tide swelling quietly between the two
giving way; then, springing from the height of Douvres raised the sloop and brought it nearer
the suspending props on to the deck, he took up to the Durande. The sea was more than conhis position near the capstan, in the part of the quered; it was tamed and broken in. It beDurande which he intended to leave jammed in came, in fac'tpart andiparcel of the organization
between the two Douvres. This was to be his of power.
post during his labours.                     The rising waters lifted the vessel without any
Earnest, but troubled with no impulses but sort of shock, gently, and almost with precauwhat were useful to his work, he took a final tion, as one would handle porcelain.
glance at the hoisting-tackle, then took a file  Gilliatt combined and proportioned the two
and began to saw with it through the chain labo-urs, that of the water and that of the appawhich held the whole suspended.            ratus; and, standing steadfast at the capstan,
The rasping of the file was audible amidst the like some terrible statue obeyed by all the moveroaring of the sea.                        ments around it at the same moment, regulated
The chain from the capstan, attached to the the slowness of the descent by the slow rise of
regulating gear, was within his reach-quite the sea.
near his hand.                               There was no jerk given by the waters; no
Suddenly there was a crash. The link which slip among the tackle. It was a strange collabhe was filing snapped when onlyhalf cut through: oration of all the natural forces subdued. On
the whole apparatus swung violently. He had one side, gravitation lowering the huge bulk, on
only just time sufficient to seize the regulating the other the sea raising the bark. The attracgear.                                     tion of heavenly bodies which causes the tide,
The severed chain beat against the rock; the and the attractive force of the earth, which men
eight cables strained; the huge mass, sawed call weight, seemed to conspire together to aid
and cut through, detached itself from the wreck; his plans. There was no hesitation, no stopthe belly of the hull opened, and the iron floor- page in their service; under the dominance of
ing of the engine-room was visible below the mind these passive forces became active auxilkeel.                                     iaries. From minu      te to minute the woik adIf he had not seized the regulating tackle at vanced; the interval between the wreck and the
that instant, it would have fallen. But his pow- sloop diminished insensibly. The approach conerful hand was there, and it descended. steadily. tinued in silence, and as in a sort of terror of the
When the brother of Jean Bart, Peter Bart, man who stood there. The elements received
that powerful and sagacious toper, that poor his orders and fulfilled them.
Dunkirk fisherman, who used to talk familiarly  Nearly at the moment the tide ceased to raise
with the Grand Admiral of France, went to the it, the cable ceased to slide. Suddenly, but withrescue of the galley "Langeron," in distress in out commotion, the pulleys stopped. The vast
the Bay of Ambleteuse, endeavouring to save machine had taken its place in the bark, as if
the heavy floating mass in the midst of the placed there by a powerful hand. It stood
breakers of that furious bay, he rolled up the straight, upright, motionless, firm. The iron
mainsail, tied it with sea-reeds, and trusted to floor of the engine-room rested with its four corthe ties to break away of themselves, and give ners evenly upon the hold.
the sail to the wind at the right moment. Just  The work was accomplished.
so Gilliatt trusted to the breaking of the chain,  Gilliatt contemplated it, lost in thought.
and the same eccentric feat of daring was crown-  He was not the spoiled child of success. He
ed with the same success.                 bent under the weight of his great joy. He felt
The tackle, taken in hand by Gilliatt, held his limbs, as it were, sinking; and, contemplaout and worked well. Its function, as will be ting his triumph, he, who had never been shaken
remembered, was to moderate the powers of by danger, began to tremble.




106                      THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
He gazed upon the sloop under the wreck,  The services rendered by the sea had been acand at the machinery in the sloop. He seemed companied by that unfortunate drawback. It
to feel it hard to believe it true. It might have seemed as if the waves, constrained to obey, had
been supposed that he had never looked forward avenged themselves by a malicious trick.
to that which he had accomplished. A miracle  It is true that what the flood-tide had done,
had been wrought by his hands, and he contem- the ebb would undo.
plated it in bewilderment.                  The funnel, which was rather more than three
His reverie lasted but a short time.    fathoms in height, was bhried more than eight
Starting like one awakening from a deep feet in the wreck. The water-level would fall
sleep, he seized his saw, cut the eight cables, about twelve feet. Thus the funnel, descending
separated now from the sloop, thanks to the ris- with the falling tide, would have four feet of
ing of the tide, by only about ten feet; sprang room to spare, and would clear itself easily.
aboard, took a bunch of cord, made four slings,  But how much time would elapse before that
passed them through the rings prepared before- release would be completed? eSix hours.
hand, and fixed on both sides. aboard the sloop  In six hours it would be near midnight.
the four chains of the funnel which only an What means would there be of attempting to
hour before had been still fastened to their start at such an hour? What channel couldhe
places aboard the Durande.                find among all those breakers, so full of dangers
The funnel being secured, he disengaged the even by day? How was he to risk his vessel
upper part of the machinery. A square portion in the depth of black night in that inextricable
of the planking of the Durande was adhering to labyrinth, that ambuscade of shoals?
it; he struck off the nails and relieved the sloop  There was no help for it. He must wait for
of this encumbrance of planks and beams, which the morrow.. These six hours lost entailed a
fell over on to the rocks-a great assistance in loss of twelve hours at least.
lightening it.                              He could not even advance the labour by
For the rest, the sloop, as has been foreseen, opening the mouth of the gorge. His breakbehaved well under the burden of the machin- water was necessary against the next tide.
cry. It had sunk in the water, but only to a-  He was compelled to rest. Folding his arms
good water-line. Although massive, the engine was almost the only thing which he had not yet
of the Durande was less heavy than the pile done since his arrival on the rocks.
of stones'and the cannon which he had once  This forced inaction irritated, almost vexed
brought back from Herm in the sloop.      him with himself, as if it had been his fault.
All then was ended; he had only to depart.  He thought what would Deruchette say of me
if she saw me thus doing nothing?"
~ -— <*~ —     iAnd yet this interval for regaining his strength
was not unnecessary.
IX.                       The sloop was now at his command; he deA SLIP BETWEEN CUP AND LIP.         termined to pass the night in it.
He mounted once more to fetch his sheepALL was not ended.                      skin upon the Great Douvre; descended again,
To reopen the gorge thus closed by the por- supped off a few limpets and chataignes de mer,
tion of the Durande's bulwarks, and at once to drank, being very thirsty, a few draughts of wapush out with the sloop beyond the rocks, noth- ter from his can, which was nearly emptied, ening could appear more clear and simple. On veloped himself in the skin, the wool of which
the sea every minute is urgent. There was lit- felt comforting, lay down like a watch-dog betle wind; scarcely a wrinkle on the open sea. side the engine, drew his red cap over his eyes,
The afternoon was beautiful, and promised a and slept.
fine night. The sea indeed Was calm, but the  His sleep was profound. It was such sleep as
ebb had begun..The moment was favourable men enjoy who have completed a great labour.
for starting. There would be the ebb-tide for
leaving the Douvres, and the flood would carry 
him into Guernsey. It would be possible to be
at St. Sampson's at daybreak.                                 X.
But an unexpected obstacle presented itself.          SEA-WA
SEA-WARNINGS.
There was a flaw in his arrangements which
had baffled all his foresight.              IN the middle of the night he awoke suddenThe machinery was freed, but the chimney ly, and with a jerk like the recoil of a spring.
was not.                                    He opened his eyes.
The tide, by raising the sloop to the wreck  The Douvres, rising high over his head, were
suspended in the air, had diminished the dan- lighted up as by the white glow of a burning
gers of the descenti and abridged the labour. ember. Over all the dark escarpment of the
But this diminution'of the interval had left the rock there was a light like the reflection of a
top of the funnel entangled in the kind of gap- fire.
ing frame. formed by the open hull of the Du-  Where could this fire come from?
rande. The funnel was held fast there as be-  It was fiom the water.
tween four walls.                           The aspect of the sea was extraordinary.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               107
The water seemed a-fire. As far as the eye suffered from her terrors, he had long been her
could reach, among the reefs and beyond them, companion. That mysterious entity which we
the sea ran with flame. The flame was not call the oceanhad nothing-in its secret thoughts
red; it had nothing in common with the grand which Gilliatt could not divine.  Observation,
living fires of volcanic craters or of great fur- meditation, and solitude had given him a quick
naces. There was no sparkling, no glare, no perception of coming changes, of wind, or cloud,
purple edges, no noise. Long trails of a bluish or wave.
tint simulated upon the water the folds of a  Gilliatt hastened to the top-ropes and paid
winding-sheet. A pale trembling glow was out some cable; then, being no longer held fast
spread over the waves. It was the spectre of a by the anchors, he seized the boat-hook of the
great fire rather than the fire itself. It was in sloop and pushed her towards the entrance to
some degree like the glow of unearthly flames the gorge, some fathoms from the Durande and
lighting the inside of a sepulchre-a burning quite near to the breakwater. Here, as the
darkness.                                  Guernsey sailors say, it had du rang. In less
The night itself, dim, vast, and-wide-diffused, than ten minutes the sloop was withdrawn from
was the fuel of that cold flame. It was a beneath the carcass of the wreck. There was
strange illumination issuing out of blindness. no farther danger of the funnel being caught in
The shadows themselves formed part of that a trap. The tide might rise now.
phantom-fire.                               And yet Gilliatt's manner wvas not that of one
The sailors of the Channel are familiar with about to take his departure.
those indescribable phosphorescences, full of  He stood considering the light upon the sea
warning to the navigator. They are nowhere once more, but his thoughts were not of starting.
more surprising than in the "Great V," near He was thinking of how to fix the sloop again,
Isigny.                                   and how to fix it more firmly than ever, though
By this light surrounding objects lose their near to the exit from the defile.
reality. A spectral glimmer renders them, as  Up to this time he had only used the two anit were, transparent. Rocks become no more chors of the sloop, and had not yet employed
than outlines. Cables of anchors look like iron the little anchor of the Durande, which he had
bars heated to a white heat. The nets of the found, as will be remembered, among the breakfishermen beneath the water seem webs of fire. ers. This anchor had been deposited by him,
The half of the oar above the waves is dark as in readiness for any emergency, in a corner of
ebony, the rest in the sea like silver. The drops the sloop, with a quantity of hawsers, and blocks
from the blades uplifted from the water fall in of top-ropes, and his cable, all furnished beforestarry showers upon the sea. Every boat leaves hand with large knots, which prevented its draga furrow behind it like a comet's tail. The ging. He now let go this third anchor, taking
sailors, wet and luminous, seem like men in care to fasten the cable to a rope, one end of
flames. If you plunge a hand into the water, which was slung through the anchor ring, while
you withdraw it clothed in flame. The flame the other was attached to the windlass of the
is dead, and is not felt. Your arm becomes a sloop. In this manner he made a kind of trifirebrand; You see the forms of things in the angular, triple anchorage, much stronger than
sea roll beneath the waves as in liquid fire. The the moorings with two anchors. All this indifoam twinkles. The fish are tongues of fire, or cated keen anxiety, and a redoubling of precaufragments of the forked lightning, moving in the tions. A sailor would have seen in this operadepths.                                   tion something similar to an anchorage in bad
The reflection of this brightness had passed weather, when there is fear of a current, which
/over the closed eyelids of Gilliatt in the sloop. might carry the vessel under the wind.
It was this that had awakened him.           The phosphorescence which he had been obHis awakening was opportune.            serving, and upon which his eye was now fixed
The ebb tide had run out, and the waters once more, was threatening, but serviceable at
were beginning to rise again. The funnel, the same time.'But for it he would have been
which had become disengaged during his sleep, held fast locked in sleep, and deceived by the
was about to enter again into the yawning hol- night. The strange appearance upon the sea
low above it.                             had awakened him, and made things about him
It was rising slowly.                   visible.
A rise of another foot would have entangled  The light which it shed among the rocks was
it in the wreck again. A rise of one foot is indeed ominous; but, disquieting as it appeared
equivalent to half an hour's tide. If he intend- to be to Gilliatt, it had served to show him the
ed, therefore, to take advantage of that tempo- dangers of his position, and had rendered posrary deliverance once more within his reach, he sible his operations in extricating the sloop.
had just half an hour before him.         Henceforth, whenever he should be able to set
He leaped to his feet.                  sail, the vessel, with its freight of machinery,
Urgent as the situation was, he stood for a would be free.
few moments meditative, contemplating the    And yet the idea of departing was further than
phosphorescence of the waves.             ever from his mind. The sloop being fixed in
aGilliatt knew the sea in all its phases. Not- its new position, he went in quest of the strongest
withstanding all her tricks, and often as he had chain which he had in his store-cavern, and




108                       THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
attaching it to the nails driven into the two returned dragging wildly sometimes a rider,
Douvres, he fortified from within with this chain sometimes a binding strake. The utility of all
the rampart of planks and beams, already pro- this preparation of timbers now became manitected from without by the cross chain. Far fest. It was evident that he was about to confrom opening the entrance tothe defile, he made front a danger which he had foreseen.
the barrier more complete.                  A strong iron bar served him as a lever for
The phosphorescence lighted him still, but it moving the beams.
was diminishing.  The day, however, was be-  The work was executed so fast that it was
ginning to break.                         rather a rapid growth than a construction. IIe
Suddenly he paused to listen.           who has never seen a military pontooner at his
work can scarcely form an idea of this rapidi- ty.
The eastern gullet was still narrower than the
XI.                    western. There were but five or six feet of inUR S IN TE AR.      terval between the rocks. The smallness of
IITRMIURS IN THE AIR.
this opening was an assistance. The space to
A FEEBLE, indistinct sound seemed to reach be fortified and closed up being very little, the
his ear from somewhere in the far distance.  apparatus would be stronger, and might be more
At certain hours the great deeps give forth a simple. Horizontal beams, therefore, sufficed,
murmuring noise.                          the upright ones being useless.
He listened a second time. The distant noise  The first cross-pieces of the breakwater being
recommenced. Gilliatt shook his head like one fixed, Gilliatt mounted upon them and listened
who recognises at last something familiar to once more.
him.                                        The murmurs had become significant.
A few minutes later he was at the other ex-  He continued his construction. He supporttremity of the alley between the rocks, at the ed it with two catheads of the Durande, bound
entrance facing the east, which had remained to the frame of beams by cords passed through
open until then, and by heavy blows of his ham- the three: pulley-sheaves. He made the whole
mer was driving large nails into the sides of the fast by chains.
gullet near "The Man" rock, as he had done at  The construction was little more than a cothe gullet of the IDuvres.                lossal lurdle, having beams for rods, and chains
The crevices of these rocks were prepared and in the place of wattles.
well furnished with timber, almost all of which  It seemed woven together quite as much as
was heart' of oak. The rock on this side being built.
much broken up, there were abundant cracks,  He multiplied the fastenings, and added nails
and he was able to fix even more nails there where they were necessary.
than in the base of the two Douvres.        Having obtained a great quantity of bar iron
Suddenly, and as if some great breath had from the wreck, he had been able to make a
passed over it, the luminous appearance on the large number of these heavy nails.
waters vanished. The twilight, becoming paler  While still at work, he broke some biscuit
every moment, assumed its functions.      with his teeth. He was thirsty, but he could
The nails being driven, Gilliatt dragged not drink, having no more fresh water. He
beams and cords, and then chains to the spot; had emptied the can at his meal of'the evening
and without taking his eyes off his work, or before.
permitting his mind to be diverted for a mo-  He added afterwards four or five more pieces
ment, he began to construct across the gorge of of timber; then climbed again upon the barrier
"The Man," with beams fixed horizontally and and listened.
made fast by cables, one'of those open barriers  The noises from the horizon had ceased; all
which science has now adopted under the namie was still.
of breakwaters.                             The sea was smooth and quiet, deserving all
Those who have witnessed, for example, at those complimentary phrases which worthy citLa Rocquaine in Guernsey, or at Bourg-d'Eau izens bestow upon it when satisfied with a tripin France, the effect produced by a few posts "a mirror," "a pond," "like oil," and so forth.
fixed in the rock, will understand the power of The deep blue of the sky responded to the deep
these simple preparations. This sort of break- green tint of the ocean. The sapphire and the
water is a combination of what is called in emerald hues vied with each other. Each were
France eJpi with what is called in England "a perfect. Not a cloud on high, not a line of
dam." The breakwater is the chevaux-de-frise foam below. In the midst of all this splendour,
of fortifications against tempests. Man can only the April sun rose magnificently. It was imstruggle against the sea by taking advantage of possible to imagine a lovelier day.
this principle of dividing its forces.      On the verge of the horizon a flight of birds
Meanwhile the sun had risen, and was shin- of passage formed a long dark line against the
ing brightly. The sky was clear, the sea calm. sky. They were flying fast, as if alarmed.
Gilliatt pressed on his work. He, too, was  Gilliatt set to work again to raise the breakcalm; but there was anxiety in his haste. He water.
passed with long strides from rock to rock, and  He raised it as high as he could-as high,




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                              109
indeed, as the curving of the rocks would per- was everywhere clear; but from blue it had bemit.                                      come white. The whiteness was singular. To
Towards noon the sun appeared to him to the west, and upon the horizon, was a little spot
give more than its usual warmth. Noon is the of a sickly hue. The spot remained in the same
critical time of the day.  Standing upon the place, but by degrees grew larger. Near the
powerful frame which he had built up, he paused breakers the waves shuddered, but very gently.
again to survey the wide expanse.            Gilliatt had done well to build his breakwater.
The sea was more than tranquil. -It was a  A tempest was approaching.
dull dead calm. No sail was visible. The sky  The elements had determined to give battle.
BOO K III.
THE STRUGGLE.
I.                     rounding things. The most terrible and perEXTREMES MEET.             fidious of her aspects is that which masks the
convulsions of the deep.
NOTHING is more threatening than a late    Some hours, and even days sometimes, pass
equinox.                                  thus. Pilots raise their telescopes here and
The appearance of the sea presents a strange there. The faces of old seamen have always
phenomenon, resulting from what may be called an expression of severity left upon them by the
the arrival of the ocean winds.           vexation of perpetually looking out for changes.
In all seasons, but particularly at the epoch  Suddenly a great confused murmur is heard.
of the Syzygies, at the moment when least ex- A sort of mysterious dialogue takes place in the
pected, the sea sometimes becomes singularly air.
tranquil. That vast perpetual movement ceases;  Nothing unusual is seen.
a sort of drowsiness and languor overspreads it;  The wide expanse is tranquil.
and it seems weary and about to rest. Every  Yet the noises increase. The dialogue berag of bunting, from the tiny streamer of the comes more audible.
fishing-boat to the great flag of the ships of war,  There is something beyond the horizon.
droops against the mast. The admiral's flag,  Something terrible. It is the wind.
the Royal and Imperial ensigns, sleep alike.  The wind, or rather that populace of Titans
Suddenly all these streamers begin to flutter which we call the gale. The unseen multitude.
gently.                                     India knew them as the Maroubs, Judea as
If there happen to be clouds, the moment has the Keroubim, Greece as the Aquilones. They
then come for making the formation of the cirri; are the invisible winged creatures of the Infiif the sun is setting, for observing the red tints nite. Their blasts sweep over the earth.
of the horizon; or if it be night and there is a
moon, for looking attentively for the halo.              -
It is then that the captain or commander of
a squadron, if he happen to possess one of those             II.
storm indicators, the inventor of which is unknown, notes his instrument carefully, and takes      THE OCEAN WINDS.
his precautions against the south wind, if the  WHENCE come they?  From the immeasurclouds have an appearance like dissolved sugar; able deep. Their wide wings need the breadth
or against the north, if they exfoliate in crys- of the ocean gulf; the spaciousness of desert
tallizations like brakes of brambles, or like fir solitudes. The Atlantic, the Pacific-those vast
woods. Then, too, the poor Irish or Breton blue plains-are their delight. They hasten
fisherman, after having consulted some myste- thither in flocks. Commander Page witnessed,
rious gnomon engraved by the Romans or by de- far out at sea, seven water-spouts at once. They
mons upon one of those straight enigmatical wander there, wild, terrible! The ever-ending,
stones, which are called in Brittany Menhir, and yet eternal flux and reflux, is their work. The
in Ireland Cruach, hauls his boat up on the extent of their power, the limits of their will,
shore.                                    none know. They are the Sphinxes of the
Meanwhile the serenity of sky and ocean con- abyss; Gama was their CEdipus. In that dark,
tinues. The day dawns radiant, and the Auro- ever-moving expanse, they appear with faces
ra smiles. It was this which filled the old poets of cloud. He who perceives their pale lineaand seers with religious horror; for men dared ments in that wide dispersion, the horizon of
to suspect the falsity of the sun..Solem quis the sea, feels himself in presence of an unsubdicerefalsum audeat?                      duable power. It might be imagined that the
The sombre vision of nature's secret laws is proximity of human intelligence disquieted
interdicted to man by the fatal opacity of sur- them, and that they revolted against it. The




110                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
mind of man is invincible, but the elements surge. The horizon, a confused mass of strata,
baffle him. He can do nothing against the oscillating ceaselessly, murmurs in a continual
power which is everywhere, and which none undertone. Strange and sudden outbursts break
can bind. The gentle breath becomes a gale, through the monotony.  Cold airs rush forth,
smites with the force of a war-club, and then succeeded by warm blasts. The trepidation of
becomes gentle again. The winds attack with the sea betokens anxious expectation, agony,
a terrible crash, and defend themselves by fall- terror profound. Suddenly the hurricane comes
ing into nothingness. He who would encoun- down, like a wild beast, to drink of the oceanter them must use artifice. Their varying tac- a monstrous draught! The water rises to the
tics, their swift, redoubled blows, confuse. They invisible mouth; a mound of water is formed;
fly as often as they attack. They are tenacious the swell increases, and the waterspout appears;
and impalpable. Who can circumvent them? the Prester of the ancients, stalactite above,
The prow of the Argo, cut from an oak of Do- stalagmite below; a whirling, double-inverted
dona's grove, that mysterious pilot of the bark, cone; a point in equilibrium upon another, the
spoke to them, and they insulted that pilot-god- embrace of two mountains-a mountain of foam
dess. Columbus, beholding their approach near ascending, a mountain of vapour descendingLa Pinta, mounted upon the poop and address- terrible coition of the cloud and the wave.
ed them with the first verses of St. John's Gos- Like the column in Holy Writ, the waterspout
pel. Surcouf defied them: "Here come the is dark by day and luminous by night. In its
gang," he used to say. Napier greeted them  presence the thunder itself is silent, and seems
with cannon balls. They assume the dictator- cowed.
ship of chaos.                               The vast commotion of those solitudes has
Chaos is theirs, in which to wreak their mys- its gamut, a terrible crescendo. There is the
terious vengeance; the den of the winds is more gust, the squall, the storm, the gale, the temmonstrous than thatof lions. How many corpses pest, the whirlwind, the waterspout, the seven
lie in its deep recesses, where the winds beat chords of the lyre of the winds, the seven notes
without pity upon that obscure and ghastly of the firmament. The heavens are a clear
mass'! The winds are heard wheresoever they space, the sea a vast round; but a breath passgo, but they give ear to none. Their acts re- es, they have vanished, and all is fury and wild
semble crimes. None know on whom they cast confusion.
their hoary surf; with what ferocity they hover  Such are these inhospitable realms.
over shipwrecks, looking at time as if they flung  The winds rush, fly, swoop down, die out,
their impious foam-flakes in the face of heaven. commence again; hover above, whistle, roar,
They are the tyrants of unknown regions. "Lu- and smile; frenzied, wanton, unbridled, or sinkoghi spaventosi," murmured the Venetian mar- ing at ease upon the raging waves. Their
iners.                                    howlings have a harmony of their own. They
The trembling fields of space are subjected make all the heavens sonorous. They blow in
to their fierce assaults. Things unspeakable the cloud as in a trumpet; they sing through
come to pass in those deserted regions. Some the infinite space with the mingled tones of clarhorseman rides in the gloom; the air is full of ions, horns, bugles, and trumpets-a sort of
a forest sound; nothing is visible, but the tramp Promethean fanfare.
of cavalcades is heard. The noonday is over-  Such was the music of ancient Pan. Their
cast with sudden night; a tornado passes. Or harmonies are terrible. They have a colossal
it is midnight, which' suddenly becomes bright joy in the darkness. They drive and disperse
as day; the polar lights are in the heavens. great ships. Night and day, in all seasons,
Whirlwinds in opposite ways, and in a sort of from the tropics to the pole, there is no truce;
hideous dance, a stamping of the storms upon sounding their fatal trumpet through the tanthe waters. A cloud, overburdened, opens and gled thickets of the clouds and waves, they purfalls to earth. Other clouds, filled with red sue the grim chase of vessels in distress. They
light, flash and roar, then frown again omi- have their packs of bloodhounds, and take their
nously. Emptied of their lightnings, they are pleasure, setting them to bark among the rocks
but as spent brands. Pent-up rains dissolve in and billows. They huddle the clouds together,
mists. Yonder sea appears a fiery furnace in and drive them diverse. They mould and knead
which the rains are falling; flames seem to is- the supple waters as with a million hands.
sue from the waves. The white gleam of the  The water is supple because it is incompressocean under the shower is reflected to marvel- ible. It slips away without effort. Borne down
lous distances. The different masses transform  on one side, it escapes on the other. It is thus
themselves into uncouth shapes.  Monstrous that waters become waves, and that the billows
whirlpools make strange hollows in the sky. are a token of their liberty.
The vapours revolver the waves spin, the giddy
Naiads roll; sea and sky are livid; noises as
of cries of despair are in the air. 
Great sheaves of shadow and darkness are
gathered up, trembling in the far depths of theTHE NOISES EXPLAINED.
sky. At times there is a convulsion. The ru-  THE grand descent of winds upon the world
mour becomes tumult, as the wave becomes takes place at the equinoxes. At this period




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                111
the balance of tropic and pole librates, and the the horizon line there is a premonitory whispervast atmospheric tides pourtheir flood upon one ing among the hurricanes.
hemisphere, and their ebb upon another. The   This is the noise which is heard afar off in
signs of Libra and Aquarius have reference to the darkness amidst the terrible silence of the
these phenomena.                           sea.
It is the time of tempests.                 It was this significant whispering which GilTh'e sea awaits their coming, keeping silence. liatt had noted.  The phosphorescence on the
Sometimes the sky looks sickly. -Its face is water had been the first warning; this murmur
wan.  A thick dark veil obscures it. The mar- the second.
iners observe with uneasiness the angry aspect  Tfithe-demon Legion exists, he is assuredly
of the clouds.                              no other than the wind.
But it is its air of calm contentment which  The wind is complex, but the air is one.
they dread the most. A smiling sky in the     Hence it follows that all storms are mixed.
equinoxes is the tempest in gay disguise. It The unity of the air demonstrates it.
was under skies like these that'( The Tower of  The entire abyss of heaven takes part in a
Weeping Women," in Amsterdam, was filled tempest, the entire ocean also. The totality
with wives and mothers scanning the far hori- of its forces is marshalled for the strife. A wave
zon.                                       is the ocean gulf; a gust is a gulf of the atmosWhen the vernal or autumnal storms delay phere. A contest with a storm is a contest with
to break, they are gathering strength; hoard- all the powers of sea and sky.
ing up their fury for more sure destruction.  It was Messier, that great authority among
Beware of the gale that has been long delayed. naval men, the pensive astronomer of the little
It was Angot who said that "the sea pays well lodge at Cluny, who said, "The wind comes
old debts."                                from everywhere and is everywhere."  He had
When the delay is unusually long, the sea no faith in the idea of winds imprisoned even
betokens her impatience only by a deeper calm, in inland seas. With him there were no Medbut the magnetic intensity manifests itself by iterranean winds; he declared that he recogwhat might be called a fiery humour in the sea. nised them as they wandered about the earth.
Fire issues from the waves; electric air, phos- He affirmed that on a certain day, at a certain
phoric water. The sailors feel a strange lassi- hour, the Fihn of the Lake of Constance, the
tude. This time is particularly perilous for iron ancient Favonius of Lucretius, had traversed
vessels; their hulls are then liable to produce the horizon of Paris; on another day, the Bora
variations of the compass, leading them  to of the Adriatic; on another day, the whirling
destruction. The Transatlantic steam-vessel Notus, which is supposed to be confined in the
"Iowa'! perished from this cause.           round of the Cyclades.  He indicated their curTo those who are familiar with the sea, its rents. He did not believe it impossible that
aspect at this moment is singular. It may be the "Autan," which circulates between Corsica
imagined to be both desiring and fearing the and the Balearic Isles, could escape from its
approach of the cyclone. Certain unions, though bounds.  He did not admit the theory of winds
strongly urged by nature, are attended by this imprisoned like bears in their dens. It was he,
strange conjunction of terror and desire.  The too, who said that "every rain comes from the
lioness in her tenderest moods flies from the tropics, and every flash of lightning from the
lion. Thus the sea, in the fire of her passion, pole."  The wind, in fact, becomes saturated
trembles at the near approach of her union with with electricity at the intersection of the colures
the tempest. The nuptials are prepared. Like which marks the extremity of the axis, and with
the marriages of the ancient emperors, they are water at the equator; bringing moisture fiom
celebrated with immolations.  The fete is her- the equatorial line, and the electric fluid from
aided with disasters.                       the poles.
Meanwhile, from yonder deeps, from the great  The wind is ubiquitous.
open sea, from the unapproachable latitudes,  It is certainly not meant by this that the
from the lurid horizon of the watery waste, winds never move in zones. Nothing is better
from the utmost bounds of the free ocean, the established than the existence of those continwinds pour down.                            uous air currents; and aerial navigation by
Listen; for this is the famous equinox.  means of the wind-boats, to which the passion
The storm prepares mischief. In the old for Greek terminology has given the name of
mythology these entities were recognised, indis- " aeroscaphes," may one day succeed in utiliztinctly moving, in the grand scene of nature. ing the chief of these streams of wind. The
2Eolus plotted with Boreas. The alliance of regular course of air streams is an incontestable
element with element is necessary; they divide fact. There are both rivers of wind and rivutheir task. One has to give impetus to the lets of wind, although their branches are exactwave, the cloud, the stream: night is an aux- ly the reverse of water currents; for in the air
iliary, and must be employed. There are com- it is the rivulets which flow out of the rivers, and.
passes to be falsified, beacons to be extinguish- the smaller rivers which flow out of the great
ed, lanterns of lighthouses to be masked, stars streams instead of falling into them. Hence,
to be hidden. The sea must lend her aid.,Ev- instead of concentration, we have dispersion.
ery storm is preceded by a murmur. Behind     The united action of the winds and the unity




112                      THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
of the atmosphere result from this dispersion. ing north winds, called by the English "BushThe displacement of one molecule produces the winds;" the curved squalls of the Straits of Madisplacement of another.  The vast body of air lacca, observed by Horsburgh; the powerful
becomes subject to one agitation.  To these south-west wind, called Pampero in Chili, and
profound causes of coalition we must add the Rebojo at Buenos Ayres, which carries the great
irregular surface of the earth, whose mountains condor out to sea, and saves him from the pit
furrow the atmosphere, contorting and diverting where the Indian, concealed under a bullockthe winds from their course, and determining hide newly stripped, watches for him, lying on
the directions of counter currents in infinite ra- his back, and bending his great bow with his
diations.                                  feet; the chemical wind, which, according to
The phenomenon of the wind is the oscilla- Lemery, produces thunder-bolts from the clouds;
tion of two oceans one against the other; the the Harmattan of the Caffres; the Polar snowocean of air, superimposed upon the ocean of driver, which harnesses itself to the everlasting
water, rests upon these currents, and is con- icebergs; the wind of the Gulf of Bengal, which
vulsed with. this vast agitation.           sweeps over a continent to pillage the trianguThe indivisible cannot produce separate ac- lar town of wooden booths at Nijni-Novogorod,
tion.  No partition divides wave from wave. in which' is held the great fair of Asia; the
The islands of the Channel feel the influence of wind of the Cordilleras, agitator of great waves
the Cape. of Good Hope. Navigation every- and forests; the wind of the Australian Archiwhere contends with the same monster; the sea pelago, where the bee-hunters take the wild
is one hydra. The waves cover it a's with a hives hidden under the forks of the branches of
coat of scales.                             the giant eucalyptus; the Sirocco, the Mistral,
Upon that unity reposes an infinite variety,  the Hurricane, the dry winds, the inundating
and diluvian winds, the torrid winds which scat-. —- ---               ter dust from the plains of Brazil upon the
streets of Genoa, which obey and yet revolt
IV.                     against the diurnal rotation, and of which Herrara said,'Malo viento contra el sol;" those
TURBA TU.RMTA.
winds which hunt in couples conspiring misACCORDING to the compass there are thirty. chief, the one undoing the, work of the other;
two winds, that is to say, thirty-two points. But and those old winds which assailed Columbus
these directions may be subdivided indefinitely. on the coast of Veraguas, and which during
Classed-by its directions, the wind is incalcula- forty days, from the 21st of October to the 28th
ble; classed by its kinds, it is infinite. Homer of November, 1520, delayed and nearly frustrahimself would have shrunk from the task of ted Magellan's approach to the Pacific; and
enumerating them.                           those which dismasted the Armada and conThe polar current encounters the tropical cur- founded Philip II. Others, too, there are, of
rent. Heat and cold are thus combined; the the names of which there is no end. The
equilibrium is disturbed by a shock; the wave of winds, for instance, which carry showers of frogs
wind issues forth and is distended, scattered and and locusts, and drive before them clouds of livbroken up in every direction in fierce streams. ing things across the ocean; those which blow
The dispersion of the gusts shakes the stream- in what are called "Wind-jumps," and whose
ing locks of the wind upon the four corners of function is to destroy ships at sea; those which
the horizon.                                at a single blast throw the cargo out of tiim,
All the winds which blow are there. The and compel the vessel to continue her course
wind of the Gulf Stream, which disgorges the half broadside over; the winds which construct
great fogs of Newfoundland; the wind of Peru, the circum-cumuli; the winds which mass toin the region of silent heavens, where no man gether the circum-strati; the dark, heavy winds
ever heard the thunder roar; the wind of Nova* swelled with rains; the winds of tile hailScotia, where flies the great auk (lcaa impennis) storms; the fever winds, whose approach sets
witfhhis furrowed beak; the iron whirlwinds of the salt springs and sulphur springs of Calablria
the Chinese Seas; the. wind of Mozambique, boiling; those which give a glittering appearwhich destroys the canoes and junks; the elec- ance to the fur of African panthers, prowling
tric wind, which the people of Japan denounce among the bushes of Cape Ferro; those which
by the beating of a gong; the African wind, come shaking from the cloud, like the tongue
which blows between Table Mountain and the of a trigonocephal, the terrible forked lightning;
Mountain of the Devil, where it gains its liber- and those which bring whirlwinds of black snow.
ty; the currents of the equator, which pass over Such is the legion of winds.
the trade winds, describing a parabola, the sum-  The- Douvres rock heard their distant tramp
mit of which is always to the west; the Pluto- at the moment when Gilliatt was constructing
nian wind, which issues from craters, the terrible his breakwater.
breath of flames; the singular wind peculiar to  As we have said, the wind means the combithe volcano Awa, which occasions a perpetual nation of all the winds of the earth.
olive tint in the north; the Java monsoon,
against which the people construct those case-             ---
mates known as hurricane houses; the branch



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                              113
V.                     a bent sheet of iron, presenting the steep, slipGILLIATT'S ALTERNATIVES.         pery face of an inclined plane. The dark wall
enlarged and grew; but its entablature never
THEr mysterious forces had chosen their time ceased for a moment to be parallel with the
well.                                     horizon line, which was almost indistinguishable
Chance, if chance exists, is sometimes far- in the gathering darkness.  Silently, and altoseeing.                                   gether, the airy battlements ascended. No unWhile the sloop had been anchored in the dulation, no wrinkle, no projection changed its
little creek of "The Man" rock, and as long as shape or moved its place. The aspect of this
the machinery had been prisoned in the wreck, immobility in movement was impressive. The
Gilliatt's position had been impregnable. The sun, pale in the midst of a strange, sickly transsloop was in safety; the machinery sheltered. parence, lighted up this outline of the ApocaThe Douvres, which held the hull of the Du- lypse. Already the cloudy bank had blotted
rande fast, condemned it to slow destruction, out one half the space of the sky, shelving like
but protected it against unexpected accidents. the fearful tatus of the abyss. It was the upIn any event, one resource had remained to rising of a dark mountain between earth and
him. If the:engine had been destroyed, Gilliatt heaven.
would have been uninjured. He had still the  It. was nig:t.falling, suddenly upon midday.
sloop by which to escape.                   There was a heat in the air as liman ovenBut to wait till the sloop was removed from  door, coming from that mysterious mass on
the anchorage where she was inaccessible; to mass. The sky, which from blue had become
allow it to be fixed in the defile of the Douvres; white, was now turning from white to a slaty
to watch, as it were, until the sloop, too, was en- gray. The sea beneath, leaden-hued and dull.
tangled in the rocks; to permit him to complete No breath, no wave, no noise. Far as eye could
the salvage, the moving, and the final embarka- reach, the desert ocean. No sail was visible on
tion of the machinery; to do no damage to that any side. The birds had disappeared.  Some
wonderful construction by which one man was monstrous treason seemed abroad.
enabled to put the whole aboard his bark; to  The wall of cloud grew visibly larger.
acquiesce, in fact, in the success of his exploits  This moving mountain of vapours, which was
so far-this was but the trap which the elements approaching the Douvres, was one of those which
had laid for him. Now, for the first time, he be- might be called the clouds of battle.  Sinister
gan to perceive in all its sinister characteristics appearances; some strange, furtive glance seemthe trick which the sea had been meditating so ed cast upon the beholder through that obscure
long.                                     mass up-piled.
The machinery, the sloop, and their master  The approach was terrible.
were all now within the gorge of the rocks.  Gilliatt observed it closely, and muttered to
They formed but a single point. One blo;, himself, "I am thirsty enough, but you will give
and the sloop might be dashed to pieces on me plenty to drink."
the rock, the machinery destroyed, and Gilliatt  He stood there motionless a few moments, his
drowned.                                  eye fixed upon the cloud-bank, as if mentally
The situation could not have been more crit- taking a sounding of the tempest.
ical.                                       His galdrienne was in the pocket of his jacket;
The sphinx which men have imagined con- he took it out and placed it on his head. Then
cealing herself in the cloud, seemed to mock he fetched from the cave, which had so long
him with a dilemma.                       served him for a sleeping-place, a few things
" Go or stay."                          which he had kept there in reserve; he put on
To go would have been madness; to remain his overalls, and attired himself in his waterwas terrible.                             proof overcoat, like a knight who puts on his
armour at the moment of battle. He had no
shoes, but his naked feet had become hardened
-VI.                    to the rocks.
This preparation for the storm being comTaRI COMBAT.
pleted, he looked down upon his breakwater,
GILLIATT ascended to the summit of the Great grasped the knotted cord hurriedly, descended
Douvre.                                   from the plateau of the Douvre, stepped on to
From hence he could see around the horizon. the rocks below, and hastened to his store cavThe western side was appalling. A wall of ern. A few moments later he was at work.
cloud spread across it, barring the wide expanse The vast silent cloud might have heard the
from side to side, and ascending slowly from the strokes of his hammer. With the nails, ropes,
horizon towards the zenith. This wall, straight and beams which still remained, he constructed
lined, vertical, without a crevice in its height, for the eastern gullet a second frame, which he
without a rent in its, structure, seemed built by succeeded in fixing at ten or twelve feet from
the square, and measured by the plumb-line. It the other.
was cloud in the likeness of granite. Its escarp-  The silence was still profound. The blades
ment, completely perpendicular at the southern of grass between the cracks of the rocks were
extremity, curved a little towards the north, like not stirred.
H




114                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
The sun disappeared suddenly.    Gilliatt rocks seemed to stretch out; elephants bearing
looked up.                                  turrets, seen for a moment, vanished.  A colThe rising cloud had just reached it. It umn of vapour, straight, round, and dark, and
was like the blotting out of day, succeeded by a surmounted by a white mist, simulated the form
mingled pale reflection.                    of a colossal steam-vessel engulfed, and hissing
The immense wall of cloud had changed its and smoking beneath the waves." Sheets of
appearance. It no longer retained its unity. cloud undulated like folds of giant flags. In
It had curved on reaching the zenith, whence the centre, under a thick purple pall, a nucleus
it spread horizontally over the rest of the heav- of dense fog sunk motionless, inert, impenetraens.  It had now its various stages.  The ble by the electric fires: a sort of hideous foetus
tempest formation was visible, like the strata in the bosom of the tempest.
in the side of a trench. It was possible to dis-  Suddenly Gilliatt felt a breath moving his
tinguish the layers of the rain from the beds of hair.  Two or three large drops of rain fell
hail. There wag no lightning, but a horrible, heavily around him on the rock. Then there
diffused glare; for the idea of horror may be was a second thunder-clap.  The wind was
attached to light. The vague breathing of the rising.
storm was audible; the silence was broken by  The terror of darkness was at its highest
an obscure palpitation.  Gilliatt, silent also, point. The first peal of thunder had shaken
watched the giant blocks of vapour grouping the sea; the second rent the wall of cloud
themselves overhead, forming the shapeless from top to base; a breach was visible; the
mass of clouds.  Upon the horizon brooded pent-up deluge rushed towards it; the rent beand lengthened out a band of mist of ashen came like a gulf filled with rain.  The outhue; in the zenith, another band of lead color. pouring of the tempest had begun.
Pale, ragged fragments of cloud hung from the  The moment was terrible.
great mass above upon the mist below. The     Rain, wind, lightnings, thunder, waves swirlpile of cloud which formed the background ing upwards to the clouds, foam, hoarse noises,
was wan, dull, gloomy. A thin, whitish, trans- whistlings, mingled together, like monsters sudverse cloud, coming no one could tell whither, denly unloosened.
cut the high dark wall obliquely from north to  For a solitary man, imprisoned with an oversouth.  One of the extremities of this cloud loaded bark between two dangerous rocks in
trailed along the surface of the sea. At the mid-ocean, no crisis could have been more men
point where it touched the waters a dense red acing.  The danger of the tide, over which he
vapour was visible in the midst of the darkness. had triumphed, was nothing comparedwith'the
Below it, smaller clouds, quite black and very danger of the tempest.
low, were flying as if bewildered or moved by  Surrounded on all sides by dangers, Gilliatt,
opposite currents of air. The immense cloud at the last moment, and before the crowning
behind increased from all points at once, dark- peril, had developed an ingenious strategy. He
ened the eclipse, and continued to spread its had secured his basis of operations in the enesombre pall. In the east, behind Gilliatt, there mies' territory; had pressed the rock into his
was only one clear porch. in the heavens, which service.  The Douvres, originally his enemy,
was rapidly being closed. Without any feel- had become his second in that immense duel.
ing of wind abroad, a strange flight of gray Out of that sepulchre he had constructed a
downy.particles seemed to pass; they were fortress. He was built up among these formifine, and scattered as if some gigantic bird had dable sea ruins.  He was blockaded, but well
been plucked of its plumage behind the bank defended.  He had, so to speak, set his back
of cloud. A dark, compact roof had gradually against the wall, and stood face to face with the
formed itself, which on the verge of the horizon hurricane. He had barricaded the narrow strait,
touched the sea, and mingled in darkness with that highway of the waves,  This, indeed, was
it.  The beholder had a vague sense of some- the only possible course.  It seemed as if the
thing advancing steadily towards him. It was ocean, like other despots, might be brought to
vast, heavy, ominous.  Suddenly an immense reason by the aid of barricades. The sloop
peal of thunder burst upon the air.         might be considered secure on three sides.
Gilliatt himself felt the shock.  The rude Closely wedged between the two interior walls
reality in the midst of that visionary region of the rock, made fast by three anchorings, she
has something in it terrific.  The listener fan- was sheltered from the north by the Little Doucies that he hears something falling in the vre, on the south by the Great one: terrible eschamber of giants. No electric flash accom- carpments, more accustomed to wreck vessels
panied the report. It was a blind peal. The than to save them.  On the western side she
silence was profound again. There was an in- was protected by the frame of timbers made
terval, as when combatants take up their posi- fast and nailed to the rocks, a tried barrier
tion.  Then appeared slowly, one after the which had withstood the rude flood-tide of the
other, great shapeless flashes; these flashes sea; a veritable citadel-gate, having for its
were silent. The wall of cloud was now a sides the columns of therock-the two Douvres
vast cavern, with roofs and arches. Outlines themselves.  Nothing was to be feared from
of forms were traceable among them; mon- that side. It was on the eastern side only that
strous heads were vaguely shadowed forth; there was danger.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                115
On that side there was no protection but the he replied with a blow of his hammer, making
breakwater.  A breakwater is an apparatus for a cadence which was audible even amidst that
dividing and distributing.  It requires at least tumult.  He was bareheaded, for a gust had
two frames.   Gilliatt had only had time to carried away his galerienne.
construct one. He was compelled to build the  He suffered from a burning thirst.  Little
second in the very presence of the tempest.  pools of rain had formed in the rocks around
Fortunately, the wind came from the north- him. From time to time he took some water in
west. The wind is not always adroit in its the hollow of his hand and drank. Then, withattacks.  The north-west wind, which is the out even looking upward to observe the storm,
ancient "galerna," had little effect upon the he applied himself anew to his task.
Douvres. It assailed the rocks in flank, and  All might depend upon a moment. He knew
drove the waves neither against the one nor the fate that awaited him if his breakwater
the other of the two gullets; so that, instead should not be completed in time. Of what
of rushing into a defile, they dashed themselves avail could it be to lose a moment in looking
against a wall.                             for the approach of death?
But the currents of the wind are curved, and  The turmoil around him was like that of a
it was probable that there would be some sud- vast bubbling cauldron. Crash and uproar
den change. If it should veer to the east be- were everywhere.  Sometimes the lightning
fore the second frame could be constructed, the seemed to descend a sort of ladder. The elecperil would be great.  The irruption of the tric flame returned incessantly to the same
sea into the gorge would be complete, and all points of the rock, where there were probably
would probably be lost.                     metallic veins.  Hailstones fell of enormous
*The wildness of the storm went on increasing. size. Gilliatt was compelled to shake the folds
The essence of a tempest is the rapid succession of his overcoat, even the pockets of which beof its blows. That is its strength; but it is also came filled with hail.
its weakness. Its fury gives the opportunity  The storm had now rotated to the west, and
to human intelligence, and man spies its weak was expending its fury upon the barricades of
points for his defence; but under what over- the two Douvres. But Gilliatt had faith in his
whelming assaults!  No respite, no interrup- breakwaters, and with good reason. These bartion, no truce, no pause for taking breath. ricades, made of a great portion of the fore part
There seems an unspeakable cowardice in that of the Durande, took the shock of the waves
prodigality of inexhaustible resources.     easily. Elasticity is a resistance.  The experAll the tumult of the wide expanse rushed iments of Stephenson establish the fact that,
towards the Douvres. Voices were heard in against the waves, which are themselves elastic,
the darkness. What could they be?  The an- a raft of timber, joined and chained together in
cient terror of the sea was there. At times a certain fashion, will form a more powerful obthey seemed to speak as if some one was utter- stacle than a breakwater of masonry. The baring words of command. There were clamours, riers of the Douvres fulfilled these conditions.
strange trepidations, and then that majestic roar They were, moreover, so ingeniously made fast,
which the mariners call the "ocean cry." The that the waves striking them beneath were like
indefinite and flying eddies of the wind whistled, hammers beating in nails, pressing and consoliwhile curling the waves and flinging them like dating the work upon the rocks. To demolish
giant quoits, cast by invisible athletes, against them it would have been necessary to overthrow
the breakers. The enormous surf streamed over the Douvres themselves. The surf, in fact, was
all the rocks-torrents above, foam below. Then only able to cast over upon the sloop some flakes 
the roaring was redoubled. No uproar of men of foam.  On that side, thanks to the barrier,
or beasts could yield an idea of that din which the tempest ended only in harmless insult.
mingled with the incessant breaking of the sea. Gilliatt turned his back upon the scene. He
The clouds cannonaded, the hailstones poured heard composedly its useless rage upon the
their volleys, the surf mounted to the assault. rocks behind him.
As far as eye could reach, the sea was white —  The foam-flakes, coming from all sides, were
ten leagues of yeasty water filled the horizon. like flights of down. The vast, irritated ocean
Doors of fire were opened, clouds seemed burnt drowned the rocks, dashed over them, and raged
by clouds, and showed like smoke above a neb- within-penetrated into the network of their inulous red mass, resembling burning embers. terior fissures, and issued again from the granitFloating conflagrations rushed together and ic masses by the narrow chinks, forming a kind
amalgamated, each changing the shape of the of inexhaustible fountains playing peacefully in
other. From the midst of the dark roofa terri- the midst of that deluge. Here and there a
ble arsenal appeared to be emptied out, -hurling silvery network fell gracefully from these spouts
downward from the gulf, pell-mell, water-spouts, into the sea.
hail, torrents, purple fire, phosphoric gleams,  The second frame of the eastern barrier was
darkness, and lightnings.                  nearly completed. A few more knots of rope
Meanwhile Gilliatt seemed to pay no atten- and ends of chains, and this new rampart would
tion to the storm. His head was bent over his be ready to play its part in' barring out the
work. The second frame-work began to ap- storm.
proach completion. To every clap of thunder   Suddenly there was a great brightness; the




116                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
rain ceased; the clouds rolled asunder; the Great Anderlo at Guernsey, and the Pinnacle at
wind had just shifted; a sort of high, dark win- Jersey. At Saint Mary of Madagascar it passes
dow opened in the zenith, and the lightnings completely over the Tintingue.
were extinguished. The end seemed to have   For some moments the sea drowned everycome. It was but the commencement.        thing. Nothing was visible except the furious
The change of wind was from the north-west waters, an enormous breadth of foam, the whiteto the north-east.                        ness of a winding-sheet blowing in the draught
The storm was preparing to burst forth again of a sepulchre; nothing was heard but the roarwith a new legion of hurricanes. The north ing storm working devastation around.
was about to mount to the assault. Sailors call  When the foam subsided, Gilliatt was still
this dreaded moment of transition the " return standing at his post.
storm."  The southern wind brings most rain,  The barrier had stood firm. Not a chain was
the north wind most lightning,            broken, not a nail displaced. It had exhibited
The attack, coming now from the east, was under the trial the two chief qualities of a breakdirected against the weak point of the position, water; it had proved flexible as a hurdle and
This time Gilliatt interrupted his work and firm as a wall. The surf falling upon it had
looked around him.                        dissolved into a shower of drops.
He stood erect upon a curved projection of  A river of foam rushing along the zigzags of
the rock behind the second barrier, which was the defile, subsided as it approached the sloop.
nearly finished. If the first frame had been, The man who had put this curb upon the
carried away, it would have broken down the fury of the ocean took no rest.
second, which was not yet consolidated, and  The storm fortunately turned aside its fury
must have crushed him. Gilliatt, in the place for a moment. The fierce attack of the waves
that he had chosen, must in that case have been was renewed upon the wall of the rock. There
destroyed before seeing the sloop, the machin- was a respite, and Gilliatt took advantage of it
ery, and all his work shattered and swallowed to complete the interior barrier.
up in the gulf. Such was the possibility which  The daylight faded upon his labours. The
awaited him. He accepted it, and contemplated hurricane continued its violence upon the flank
it sternly.                               of the rocks with a mournful solemnity. The
In that wreck of all his hope, to die at once stores of fire and water in the sky poured out
would have been his desire; to die first, as he incessantly without exhausting themselves. The
would have regarded it-for the machinery pro- undulations of the wind above and below were
duced in his mind the effect of a living being. like the movements of a dragon.
He moved aside his hair, which was beaten over  Nightfall brought scarcely any deeper night.
his eyes by the wind, grasped his trusty mallet, The change was hardly felt, for the darkness
drew himself up in a menacing attitude, and was never complete.  Tempests, alternately
awaited the event.                        darkening and illumining by their lightnings,
He was not kept long in suspense.       are merely intervals of the visible and invisible.
A flash of lightning gave the signal; the livid All is pale glare, and then all is darkness.
opening in the zenith closed; a driving torrent Spectral shapes issue forth suddenly, and return
of rain fell; then all became dark, save where as suddenly into the deep shade.
the lightnings broke forth once more. The at-  A phosphoric zone, tinged with the hue of
tack had recommenced in earnest.          the aurora borealis, appeared like ghastly flames
A heavy swell, visible from time to time in behind the dense clouds, giving to all things
the blaze of the lightning, was rolling in the a wan aspect, and making the rain-drops lumieast beyond "The Man" rock. It resembled nous.
a huge wall of glass,  It was green and with-  This uncertain light aided Gilliatt, and diout foam, and it stretched across the wide ex- rected him in his operations. By its help he
panse. It was advancing towards the break- was enabled to raise the forward barrier. The
water, increasing as it approached. It was a breakwater was -now almost complete. As he
singular kind of gigantic cylinder, rolling upon was engaged in making fast a powerful cable
the ocean. The thunder kept up a hollow rum- to the last beam, the gale blew directly in his
bling.                                    face; this compelled him to raise his head.
The great wave struck "The Man" rock, The wind had shifted abruptly to the noithbroke in twain, and passed beyond. The bro- east. The assault upon the eastern gullet reken wave, rejoined, formed a mountain of water, commenced. Gilliatt cast his eyes around the
and, instead of advancing in parallel line as be- horizon. Another great wall of water was apfore, came down perpendicularly upon the break- preaching.
water.                                      The wave broke with a great shock; a second
The shock was terrific: the whole wave be- followed; then another and another still; then
came a roaring surf.                      five or six almost together; then a last shock of
It is impossible for those who have not wit- tremendous force.
nessed them to imagine those snowy avalanches  This last wave, which was an accumulation
which the sea thus precipitates, and under which of forces, had a singular resemblance to a livit engulfs for the moment rocks of more than a ing thing. It would not have been difficult to
hundred feet in height-such, for example, as the imagine in the midst of that swelling mass the




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               117
shapes of fins and gill-coverings. It fell heav- The monolith lying in the boiling foam, the
ily and broke upon the barriers. Its almost flakes of which fell on Gilliatt where he stood,
animal form was torn to pieces in the shape of stretched from side to side of the great parallel
spouts and gushes, resembling the crushing to rocks of the defile, and formed a transversal
death of some sea hydra upon that block of rocks wall, a sort of cross-stroke between the two esand timbers. The swell rushed through, sub- carpments. Its two ends touched the rocks.
siding but devastating as it went. The huge It had been a little too long to lie flat, but its
wave seemed to bite and cling to its victim as it summit of soft rock was struck off with the fall.
died. The rock shook to its base. A savage The result of this fall was a singular sort of
howling mingled with the roar; the foam flew cul-de-sac, which may still be seen. The water
far like the spouting of a leviathan.     behind this stony barrier is almost always tranThe subsidence exhibited the extent of the quil.
ravages of the surf. This last escalade had not  This was a rampart more invincible still than
been ineffectual. The breakwater had suffered the forward timbers of the Durande fixed bethis time. A long and heavy beam, torn from  tween the two Douvres.
the first barrier, had been carried over the sec-  The barrier came opportunely.
ond, and hurled violently upon the projecting  The assaults of the sea had continued. The
rock on which Gilliatt had stood but a moment obstinacy of the waves is always increased by
before. By good fortune he had not returned an obstacle. The first frame began to show
there. Had he done so, his death had been in- signs of breaking up. One breach, however
evitable.                                 small, in a breakwater, is always serious. It
There was a remarkable feature in the fall of inevitably enlarges, and there is no means of
t-his beam, which, by preventing the frame-work supplying its place, for the sea would sweep
rebounding, saved Gilliatt from greater dangers. away the workmen.
It even proved useful to him, as will be seen, in  A flash which lighted up the rocks revealed
another way.                              to Gilliatt the nature of the mischief-the beams
Between the projecting rock and the interior broken down, the ends of rope and fragments of
wall of the defile there was a large interval, chain swinging in the winds, and a rent in the
something like the notch of an axe or the split centre of the apparatus. The second frame was
of a wedge. One of the extremities of the tim- intact.
her hurled into the air by the waves had stuck  Though the block of stone so powerfully
fast into this notch in falling. The gap had overturned by Gilliatt in the defile behind the
become enlarged.                          breakwater was the strongest possible barrier,
Gilliatt was struck with an idea. It was it had a defect. It was too low. The surge
that of bearing heavily on the other extremity.  could not destroy, but could sweep over it.
The beam caught by one end in the nook,   It was useless to think of building it higher.
which it had widened, projected from it straight Nothing but masses of rock could avail upon a
as an outstretched arm. This species of arm  barrier of stone; but how could such masses be
projected parallel with the anterior wall of the detached? or, if detached, how could they be
defile, and the disengaged end stretched from  moved, or raised, or piled, or fixed? Timbers
its resting-place about eighteen or twenty inch. may be added, but rocks cannot.
es. A good distance for the object to be at-  Gilliatt was not Enceladus.
tained.                                     The very little height of this rocky isthmus
Gilliatt raised himself by means of his hands, rendered him anxious.
feet, and knees to the escarpment, and then  The effects of this fault were not long in showturned his back, pressing both his shoulders ing themselves. The assaults upon the breakagainst the enormous lever. The beam was water were incessant; the heavy seas seemed
long, which increased its raising power. The not merely to rage,: but to attack with determrock was already loosened; but he was com- ination to destroy it. A sort of trampling noise
pelled to renew his efforts again and again. was heard upon the jolted frame-work.
The sweat-drops rolled from his forehead as rap-  Suddenly the end of a binding strake, detachidly as the spray. The fourth attempt exhaust- ed from the dislocated frame, was swept away
ed all his powers. There was a cracking noise; over the second barrier and across the trans..
the gap, spreading in the shape of a fissure, open- versal rock, falling in the defile, where the waed its vast jaws, and the heavy mass fell into the ter seized and carried it into the sinuosities of
narrow space of the defile with a noise like the the pass. Gilliatt lost sight of it. It seemed
echo of the thunder:                      probable that it would do.some injury to the
The mass fell straight, and without breaking, sloop. Fortunately, the water in the interior of
resting in its bed like a Druid cromlech precipi- the rocks, shut in on all sides, felt little of the
tated in one piece.                       commotion without.  The waves there were
The beam which had served as a lever de- comparatively trifling, and the shock was not
scended with the rock, and Gilliatt, stumbling likely to be very severe. For the rest, he had
forward as it gave way, narrowly escaped fall- little time to spare for reflection upon this mising.                                      hap. Every variety of danger was arising at
The bed of the pass at this part was full of once; the tempest was concentrated upon the
huge round stones, and there was little water. vulnerable point; destruction was imminent.




118                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
The darkness was profound for a moment: liatt. He felt the counter-current upon his forethe lightnings paused-a sort of sinister con- head.
nivance.  The cloud and the sea became one:   Some waves, however, of that kind, which in
there was a dull peal.                      great tempests return with an imperturbable
This was followed by a terrible outburst. The regularity, swept over the.ruins of the breakframe which formed the fiont of the barriers was water. They fell into the defile, and, in spite
swept away. The fragments of beams were vis- of the many angles of the passage, set the waible in the rolling waters. The sea was using ters within in commotion. The waters began
the first breakwater as an engine for making a to.roll through the gorge ominously.  The mysbreach in the second.                       terious embraces of the waves among the rocks
Gilliatt experienced the feeling of a general were audible.
who sees his advanced guard driven in.        What means were there of preventing this
The second construction of beams resisted the agitation extending as far as the sloop?  It
shock. The apparatus behind it was power- would not require a long time for the blasts of
fully secured and buttressed. But the broken wind to create a tempest through all the windframe was heavy, and was at the mercy of the ings of the pass. A few heavy seas would be
waves, which were incessantly hurling it for- sufficient to stave in the sloop, and scatter her
ward and withdrawing it. The ropes and chains burden.
which remained unsevered prevented its entirely  Gilliatt shuddered as he reflected.
breaking up, and the qualities which Gilliatt  But he was not disconcerted.  No defeat
had given it as a means of defence made it, in could daunt his soul.
the end, a more effective weapon of destruction.  The hurricane had now discovered the true
Instead of a buckler, it had become a battering- plan of attack, and was rushing fiercely between
ram. Besides this, it was now full of irregu- the two walls of the strait.
larities from breaking; ends of timbers project-  Suddenly a crash was heard, resounding and
ed from all parts; and it was, as it were, cover- prolonging itself through the defile at some dised with teeth and spikes. No sort of arm could tance behind him —a crash more terrible than
have been more effective, or more fitted for the any he had yet heard.
handling of the tempest. It was the projectile,  It came from the direction of the sloop.
while the sea played the part of the catapult.  Something disastrous was happening there.
The blows succeeded each other with a dis-  Gilliatt hastened towards it.
mal regularity. Gilliatt, thoughtful and anx-  From the eastern gullet where he was, he
ions, behind that barricaded-portal listened to could not see the sloop on account of the sharp
the sound of death knocking loudly for admit- turns of the pass. At the last turn, he stopped
tance.                                      and waited for the lightning.
He reflected with bitterness that, but for the  The first flash revealed to him the position
fatal entanglement of the funnel of the Durande of affairs.
in the wreck, he would have been at that very  The rush of the sea through the eastern enmoment, and even since the morning, once more trance had been met by a blast of wind from the
at Guernsey, in the port, with the sloop out of other end. A disaster was near at hand.
danger, with the machinery saved.             The sloop had received no visible damage;
The dreaded moment arrived. The destruc- anchored as she was, the storm had little power
tion was complete. There was a sound like a over her, but the carcass of the Durande was
death-rattle. The entire frame of the break- distressed.
water, the double apparatus crushed and min-  In such a tempest, the wreck presented a congled confusedly, came in a whirl of foam, rush- siderable surface. It was entirely out of the
ing upon the stone barricade like chaos upon a sea in the air, exposed. The breach which
mountain, where it stopped. Here the frag- Gilliatt had made, and which he had passed
ments lay together, a mass of beams penetrable the engine through, had rendered the hull still
by the waves, but still breaking their force. The weaker. The keelson was snapped, the verteconquered barrier struggled nobly against de- bral column of the skeleton was broken.
struction. The waves had shattered it, and in  The hurricane had passed over it. Scarcely
their turn were shattered against it. Though more than this was needed to complete its deoverthrown, it still remained in some degree ef- struction. The planking of the deck had bent
fective. The rock which barred its passage, an like an opened book. The dismemberment had
immovable obstacle, held it fast. The defile, begun. It was the noise of this dislocation
as I have said, was very narrow at that point; which had reached Gilliatt's ears in the midst
the victorious whirlwind had driven forward, of the tempest.
mingled and piled up the wreck of the break-  The disaster which presented itself as he apwater in this narrow pass. The very violence proached appeared almost irremediable.
of the assault, by heaping up the mass and driv-  The square opening which he had cut in the
ing the broken ends one into the other, had con- keel had become a gaping wound. The wind
tributed to make the pile firm. It was destroyed, had converted the smooth-cut hole into a ragbut immovable.  A few pieces of timber only ged fracture. This transverse breach separated
were swept away, and dispersed by the waves. the wreck in two. The after-part, nearest to
One passed through the air and very near to Gil- the sloop, had remained firm in its bed of rocks.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               119
The forward portion which faced him was hang- point of the tempest.  "At that moment," says
ing. A fracture, while it holds, is a sort of Thomas Fuller, "the wind is a furious maniac."
hinge. The whole mass oscillated, as the wind It is at that instant that that continuous dismoved it, with a doleful noise. Fortunately, charge of electricity takes place which Piddingthe sloop was no longer beneath it.       ton calls "the cascade of lightnings."  It is at
But this swinging movement shook the other that instant that in the blackest spot. of the
portion of the hull, still wedged and immovable clouds (none know why, unless it be to spy the
as it was between the two Douvres. From   universal terror) a circle of blue light appears,
shaking to casting down the distance is not far. which the Spanish sailors of ancient times callUnder the obstinate assaults of the gale, the ed the eye of the tempest, el ojo de la tempestad.
dislocated part might suddenly carry away the That terrible eye looked down upon Gilliatt.
other portion, which almost touched the sloop.  Gilliatt, on his part, was surveying the heavIn this case, the whole wreck, together with the ens. He raised his head now. After every
sloop and the engine, must be swept into the stroke of his hatchet he stood erect, and gazed
sea and swallowed up.                     upwards almost haughtily. He was, or seemed
All this presented itself to his eyes. It was to be, too near destruction not to feel self-susthe end of all. How could it be prevented?  tained. Would he despair? No! In the presGilliatt was one of those who are accustomed ence of the wildest fury of the ocean he was
to snatch the means of safety out of danger watchful as well as bold. He planted his feet
itself. He collected his ideas for a moment. only where the wreck was firm. He ventured
Then he hastened to his arsenal, and brought his life and yet was careful; for his determined
his hatchet.                               spirit, too, had reached its highest point. His
The mallet had served him well; it was now  strength had grown tenfold greater. He had
the turn of the axe.                       become heated with his own intrepidity. The
He mounted upon the wreck, got a footing strokes of his hatchet were like blows of defion that part of the planking which had not given ance. He seemed to have gained in directness
way, and leaning over the precipice of the pass what the tempest had lost. A pathetic strugbetween the Douvres, he began to cut away the gle! On the one hand, an indefatigable will;
broken joists and the planking which supported on the other, inexhaustible power. It was a
the hanging portion of the hull.           contest with the elements for the prize at his
His object was to effect the separation of the feet. The clouds took the shape of Gorgon
two parts of the wreck, to disencumber the half masks in the immensity of the heavens; every
which remained firm, to throw overboard what possible form of terror appeared: the rain came
the waves had seized, and thus share the prey from the sea, the surf from the cloud; phantoms
with storm. The hanging portion of the wreck, of the wind bent down; meteoric faces revealed
borne down by the wind and by its own weight, themselves, and were again eclipsed, leaving the
adhered only at one or two points. The entire darknessmore monstrous: then there was nothwreck resembled a folding screen, one leaf of ing felt but the torrents coming from all sideswhich, half hanging, beat against the other. a boiling sea; cumuli heavy with hail, ashenFive or six pieces of the planking only, bent and hued, ragged-edged, appeared seized with a sort
started, but not broken, still held. Their frac- of whirling frenzy; strange rattlings filled the
tures creaked and enlarged at every gust, and air; the inverse currents of electricity observed
the axe, so to speak, had but to help the labour by Volta darted their sudden flashes from cloud
of the wind. This more than half-severed con- to cloud. The prolongation of the lightnings
dition, while it increased the facility of the work, was terrible; the flashes passed near to Gilliatt.
also rendered it dangerous. The whole might The very ocean seemed astonished. He passed
give way beneath him at any moment.       to and fro upon the tottering wreck, making the
The tempest had reached its highest point. deck tremble under his steps, striking, cutting,
The convulsion of the sea reached the heavens. hacking with the hatchet in his hand, pallid in
Hitherto the storm had been supreme; it had the gleam of the lightning, his long hair streamseemed to work its own imperious will, to give ing, his feet naked, in rags, his face covered with
the impulse, to drive the waves to frenzy while the foam of the sea, grand still amid that maelstill preserving a sort of sinister lucidity. Be- strom of the thunder-storm.
low was fury, above anger. The heavens'are   Against these furious powers man has no
the breath, the ocean only foam, hence the au- weapon but his invention. Invention was Gilthority of the wind. But the intoxication of liatt's triumph. His object was to allow all the
its own horrors had troubled it. It had become dislocated portions of the wreck to fall together.
a mere whirlwind-it was a blindness leading to For this reason he cut away the broken parts
night. There are times when tempests become without entirely separating them, leaving some
frenzied, when the heavens are attacked with a parts on which they still swung. Suddenly he
sort of delirium, when the firmament raves and stopped, holding his axe in the air. The operhurls its lightnings blindly. No terror is great- ation was complete. The entire portion went
er than this. It is a hideous moment. The with a crash.
trembling of the rock was at its height. Every  The mass rolled down between the two Doustorm has a mysterious course, but now it loses vres, just below Gilliatt, who stood upon the
its appointed path. It is the most dangerous wreck, leaning over and observing the fall. It




120                       THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
fell perpendicularly into the water, struck the during the last hour, and had begun to give
rocks, and stopped in the defile before touching way. A hasty glance revealed no serious inthe bottom. Enough remained out of the water jury. Nevertheless, he was certain that the vesto rise more than twelve feet above the waves. sel had been subjected to violent shocks. As
The vertical mass of planking formed a wall be- soon as the waves had subsided, the hull had
tween the two Douvres; like the rock over- righted itself; the anchors had held fast; as to
turned crosswise higher up/the defile, it allowed the machine, the four chains had supported it
only a slight stream of foam to pass through at admirably.
its two extremities, and thus was a fifth barri- While Gilliatt was completing this survey,
cade improvised by Gilliatt against the tempest something white passed before his eyes and vanin that passage of the seas.              ished in the gloom. It wasa sea-mew.
The hurricane itself, in its blind fury, had as-  No sight could be more welcome in tempestsisted in the construction of this last barrier.  uous weather. When the birds reappear, the
It was fortunate that the proximity of the two storm is departing. The thunder redoubledwalls had prevented the mass of wreck from fall- another good sign.
ing to the bottom. This circumstance gave the  The violent efforts of the storm had broken
barricade greater height; the water, besides, its force. All mariners know that the last orcould flow under the obstacle, which diminished deal is severe, but short. The excessive viothe power of the waves. That which passes be- lence of the thunder-storm is the herald of the
low can not pass over. This is partly the secret end.
of the floating breakwater.                  The rain stopped suddenly. Then there was
Henceforth, let the storm do what it might, only a surly rumbling in the heavens. The
there was nothing to fear for the sloop or the storm ceased with the suddenness of a plank
machinery. The water around them could not falling to the ground. The immense mass of
become agitated again. Between the barrier of clouds became disorganized. A strip of clear
the Douvres, which covered them on the west, sky appeared between them. Gilliatt was asand the barricade whicih protected them from  tonished-it was broad daylight.
the east, no heavy sea or wind could reach   The tempest had lasted nearly twenty hours.
them.                                       The wind which had brought the storm carGilliatt had plucked safety out of the catas- ried it away. A dark pile was diffused over the
trophe itself. The storm had been his fellow- horizon; the broken clouds were flying in conlabourer in the work.                     fusion across the sky. From one end to the
This done, he took a little water in the palm  other of the line there was a movement of reof his hand from one of the rain-pools, and treat; a long muttering was heard, gradually
drank; and then, looking upward at the storm, decreasing, a few last drops of rain fell, and all
said, with a smile, "Bungler!"           those dark masses charged with thunder departHuman intelligence combating with brute ed like a terrible multitude of chariots.
force experiences an ironical joy in demonstra-  Suddenly the wide expanse of sky became
ting the stupidity of its antagonist, and compel- blue.
ling it to serve the very objects of its fury, and  Gilliatt perceived that he was wearied. Sleep
Gilliatt felt something of that immemorial de- swoops down upon the exhausted frame like a
sire to insult his invisible enemy, which is as old bird upon its prey. He drooped, and sank upon
as the heroes of the Iliad.               the deck of the bark without choosing his posiHe descended to the sloop, and examined it tion, and there slept. Stretched at length and
by the gleam of the lightning. The relief which inert, he remained thus for some hours, scarcely
he had been able to give to his distressed bark distinguishable from the beams and joists among
was well-timed.  She had been much shaken which be lay.
BOOK IV.
PITFALLS IN THE WAY.
~I.~.~ 1by stripping himself, the only means of getting
warmth. His clothing was saturated by the
HE WHO IS HUNGRY IS NOT ALONE.
storm, but the rain had washed out the sea-waWHEN he awakened he was hungry.         ter, which rendered it possible to dry them.
The sea was growing calmer; but there was  He kept nothing on but his trowsers, which
still a heavy swell, which made his departure, he turned up nearly to the knees.
for the present at least, impossible. The day,  His overcoat, jacket, overalls, and sheepskin
too, was far advanced. For the slQop, with its he spread out and fixed with large round stones
burden, to get to Guernsey before midnight, it here and there.
was necessary to start in the morning.      Then he thought of eating.
Although pressed by hunger, Gilliatt began  He had recourse to his knife, which he was




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                121
careful to sharpen, and to keep always in good  Suddenly it was gone.
condition, and he detached from the rocks a few  It had buried itself in some crevice under the
limpets, similar in kind to the clonisses of the rock.
Mediterranean. It is well known that these    Gilliatt clutched the projections of the rock,
are eaten raw; but, after so many labours, so and stretched out to observe where it shelyed
various and so rude, the pittance was meagre. away under the water.
His biscuit was gone; but of water he had now  As he suspected, there was an opening there
abundance.                                  in which the creature had evidently taken refHe took advantage of the receding tide to uge. It was more than a crevice-it was a kind
wander among the rocks in search of cray-fish. of porch.
There was extent enough of rock to hope for a  The sea entered beneath it, but was not deep.
successful search.                          The bottom was visible, covered with large pebBut he had not reflected that he could do bles. The pebbles were green and clothed with
nothing with these without fire to cook them. confervce, indicating that they were never dry.
If he had taken the trouble to go to his store- They were like the tops of a number of heads
cavern, he would have found it inundated with of infants, covered with a kind of green hair.
the rain. His wood and coal were drowned, and  Holding his knife between his teeth, Gilliatt
of his store of tow, which served him for tinder, descended, by the help of feet and hands, from
there was not a fibre which was not saturated. the upper part of the escarpment, and leaped
No means remained of lighting a fire.       into the water. It reached almost to his shoulFor the rest, his blower was completely dis- ders.
organized. The screen of the hearth of his    He made his way through the porch, and
forge was broken down; the storm had sacked found himself in a blind passage, with a roof in
and devastated his workshop.  With what tools the form of a rude arch over his head. The
and apparatus had escaped the general wreck, walls were polished and slippery. The crab
he could still have done carpentry work, but he was nowhere visible. He gained his feet and
could'not have accomplished any of the labours advanced in daylight growing fainter, so that he
of the smith.  Gilliatt, however, never thought began to lose the power to distinguish objects.
of his workshop for a moment.                 At about fifteen paces, the vaulted roof ended
Drawn in another direction by the pangs of overhead. He had penetrated beyond the blind
hunger, he had pursued without much reflection passage. There was here more space, aid conhis search for food. He wandered, not in the sequently more daylight. The pupils of his
gorge of the rocks, but outside, among the small- eyes, moreover, had dilated; he could see preter breakers. It was there that the Durande, ty clearly.  He was taken by surprise.
ten weeks previously, had first struck upon the  He had made his way again into the singusunken reef.                               lar cavern which he had visited in the. previous
For the search that Gilliatt was prosecuting, month. The only difference was that he had
this part was more favourable than the interior. entered by the way of the sea.
At low water the crabs are accustomed to crawl  It was through the- submarine arch that he
out into the air. They seem to like to warm  had remarked before that he had just entered.
themselves in the sun, where they swarm some- At certain low tides it was accessible.
times to the disgust of loiterers, who recognise  His eyes became more accustomed to the
in these creatures, with their awkward sidelong place. His vision became clearer and clearer.
gait, climbing clumsily from crack to crack the He was astonished. He found himself again
lower stages of the rocks like the steps of a stair- in that extraordinary palace of shadows; saw
case, a sort of sea vermin.                 again before his eyes that vaulted roof, those
For two months Gilliatt had lived upon these columns, those purple and blood-like stains, that
vermin of the sea.                          vegetation rich with gems, and, at the farther
On this day, however, the cray-fish and crabs end, that crypt or sanctuary, and that altar-like
were both wanting.  The tempest had driven stone. He took little notice of these details,
them into their solitary retreats, and they had but their'impression was in his mind, and he
not yet mustered courage to venture abroad. saw that the place was unchanged.
Gilliatt held his open knife in his hand, and  He observed befor' him, at a certain height
from time to time scraped a cockle from under in the wall, the crevice through which he had
the bunches of seaweed, which he ate while still penetrated the first time, and which, from the
walking.                                    point where he now stood, appeared inaccessiHe could not have been far from the very ble.
spot where Sieur Clubin had perished.         Near the moulded arch, he remarked those
As Gilliatt was determining to content him- low dark grottoes-a sort of caves within the
self with the sea-urchins and the chdtaignes de cavern-which he had already observed from a
mer, a little clattering noise at his feet aroused distance. He now stood nearer to them. The
his attention. A large crab, startled by his ap- entrance to/the nearest to him was out of the
proach, had just dropped into apool. The wa- water, and/easily approachable.  Nearer still
ter was shallow, and he did not lose sight of it. than this ecess he noticed, above the level of
He chased the crab along the base of the rock; the water, and within reach of his hand, a horithe crab moved fast.                        zontal fi sure. It seemed to him probable that




122                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
the crab had taken refuge there, and he plunged ure, which seemed to him like mouths, change
his hand in as far as he was able, and groped their places from time to time.
about in that dusky aperture.                 Suddenly a large, round, flattened, glutinous
Suddenly he felt himself seized by the arni. mass issued from beneath the crevice. It was
A.strange indescribable horror thrilled through the centre; the five thongs were attached to it
him.                                        like spokes to the nave of a wheel. On the opSome living thing-thin, rough, flat, cold, posite side of this disgusting monster appeared
slimy-had twisted itself round his naked arm, the commencement of three other tentacles, the
in the dark depth below. It crept upward to- ends of which remained under the rock. In the
wards his chest. Its pressure was like a tight- middle of this slimy mass appeared two eyes.
ening cord, its steady persistence like that of a  The eyes were fixed on Gilliatt.,
screw. In less than a moment some mysterious  He recognised the Devil-fish.
spiral form had passed round his wrist and elbow, and had reached his shoulder.  A sharp 
point penetrated beneath the arm-pit.
Gilliatt recoiled; but he had scarcely power                 II.
to move!   He' was, as it were, nailed to-the
THE MONSTER.
place. With his left hand, which was disen-THE MONSTER
gaged, he seized his knife, which he still held  IT is difficult for those who have not seen it
between his teeth, and with that hand, holding to believe the existence of the devil-fish.
the knife, he supported himself against the rocks,  Compared to this creature, the ancient hydras
while he made a desperate effort to withdraw  are insignificant.
his arm. He succeeded in only disturbing his  At times we are tempted to imagine that the
persecutor, which wound itself still tighter. It vague forms which float in our dreams may enwas supple as leather, strong as steel, cold as counter in the realm of the Possible attractive
night.                                      forces, having power to fix their lineaments and
A second form-sharp, elongated, and narrow  shape living beings out of these creatures of our
-issued out of the crevice, like a tongue out of slumbers. The Unknown has power over these
monstrous jaws. It seemed to lick his naked strange visions, and outof them composes monbody. Then, suddenly stretching out, became sters. Orpheus, Homer, and Hesiod imagined
longer and thinner, as it crept over his skin, and only the Chimera: Providence has created this
wound itself round him. At the same time a terrible creature of the sea.
terrible sense of pain, comparable to nothing he " Creation abounds in monstrous forms of life.
had ever known, compelled all his muscles to The wherefore of this perplexes and affrights the
contract.  He felt upon his skin a number of religious thinker.flat rounded points. It seemed as if innumera-  If terror were the object of its creation, nothble suckers had fastened to his flesh and were ing could be imagined more perfect than the
about to drink his blood,                   devil-fish.
A third long undulating shape issued from   The whale has enormous bulk, the devil-fish
the hole in the rock; seemed to feel its way is comparatively small; the jararaca makes a
about his body; lashed round his ribs like a hissing noise, the devil-fish is mute; the rhicord, and fixed itself there.               noceros has a horn, the devil-fish has none; the
Agony when at its height is mute.  Gilliatt scorpion has a dart, the devil-fish has no dart;
uttered no cry. There was sufficient light for the shark has sharp fins, the devil-fish has no
him to see the repulsive forms which had en- fins; the vespertilio-vampyre has wings with
tangled themselves about him.  A fourth lig- claws, the devil-fish has no wings; the porcuature, but this one, swift as an arrow, darted pine has his spines, the devil-fish has no spines;
towards his stomach, and wound around him the sword-fish has his sword, the devil-fish has
there.                                      none; the torpedo has its electric spark, the
It was impossible to sever or tear away the devil-fish has none; the toad has its poison, the
slimy bands which were twisted tightly round devil-fish has none; the viper has its venom, the
his body, and were adhering by a number of devil-fish has no venom; the lion has its talons,
points. Each of the poYnts was the focus of the devil-fish has no talons; the griffon has its
frightful and singular pangs. It was as if num- beak, the devil-fish has no beak; the crocodile
berless small mouths were devouring him at the has its jaws, the devil-fish has no teeth.
same time.                                    The devil-fish has no muscular organization,
A fifth long, slimy, riband-shaped strip issued no menacing cry, no breastplate, no horn, no
from the hole. It passed overthe others, and dart, no claw, no tail with which to hold or
wound itself tightly around his chest. The bruise; no cutting fins, or wings with nails; no
compressioriencreasedhis sufferings. He could prickles, no sword, no electric discharge, no poiscarcely breathe.                           son, no talons, no beak, no teeth, yet he is, of
These living thongs were pointed at their ex- all creatures, the most formidably armed.
tremities, but broadened like the blade of a  What, then, is the devil-fish?  It is the sea
sword towards its hilt. All belonged evidently vampyre.
to the same centre. They crept and glided     The swimmer who, attracted by the beauty
about him; he felt the strange points of press- of the spot, ventures among breakers in the open




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               123
sea, where the still waters hide the splendours them "Devil-fish," and sometimes Bloodsuckof the deep, in the hollows of unfrequented rocks, ers. In the Channel Islands they are called
in unknown caverns abounding in sea-plants, pieuvres.
testacea, and crustacea, under the deep portals  They are rare at Guernsey, very small at
of the ocean, runs the risk of meeting it. If Jersey; but near the island of Sark are numerthat fate should be yours, be not curious, but ous as well as very large.
fly. The intruder enters there dazzled, but   An engraving'in Sonnini's edition of Buffon
quits the spot in terror.                  represents a Cephaloptera crushing a frigate.
This frightful apparition, which is always Denis Montfort, in fact, considers the Poulp, or
possible among the rocks in the open sea, is a Octopod, of high latitudes, strong enough to degrayish form, which undulates in the water. stroy a ship. Bory Saint Vincent doubts this;
It is the thickness of a man's arm, and in length but he shows that in our regions they will atnearly five feet. Its outline is ragged.  Its tack men. Near Brecq-Hou, in Sark, they
form resembles an umbrella closed, and with- show a cave Where a devil-fish, a few years
out handle: This irregular mass advances slow- since, seized and drowned a lobster-fisher. Pely towards you.  Suddenly it opens, and eight ron and Lamarck are in error in their belief
radii issue abruptly from  around a face with that the "poulp," having no fins; cannot swim.
two eyes. These radii are alive; their undu- He who writes these lines has seen with his
lation is like lambent flames; they resemble, own eyes at Sark, in the cavern called the Bouwhen opened, the spokes of a wheel- of four or tiques, a pieuvre swimming and pursuing a.
five feet in diameter.  A terrible expansion! bather. When captured and killed, this speciIt springs upon its prey.                   men was found to be four English feet broad,
The devil-fish harpoons its victim.       and it was possible to count its four hundred
It winds around the sufferer, covering and suckers. The monster thrust them out convulentangling him in its long folds.  Underneath, sively in the agony of death.
it is yellow; above, a dull, earthy hue. Nothing  According to Denis Montfort, one of those
could render that inexplicable shade dust-col- observers whose marvellous intuition sinks or
oured. Its form is spider-like, but its tints are raises them to the level of magicians, the poulp
like those of the chameleon.  When irritated, is almost endowed with the passions of man:
it becomes violet. Its most horrible character- it has its hatreds. In fact, in the Absolute, to
istic is its softness.                      be hideous is to hate.
Its folds strangle, its contact paralyzes.  Hideousness struggles under the natural law
It has' an aspect like gangrened or scabrous of elimination, which necessarily renders it
flesh. It is a monstrous embodiment of disease. hostile.
It adheres closely to its prey, and cannot be  When swimming, the devil-fish rests, so to
torn away-a fact which is due to its power of speak, in its sheath.  It swims with all its
exhausting air. The eight antenna, large at parts drawn close. It may be likened to a
their roots, diminish gradually, and end in nee- sleeve sewn up with a closed fist withif. The
die-like points. Underneath each of these feel- protuberance, which is the head, pushes the
ers range two rows of pustules, decreasing in water aside, and advances with a vague undusize, the largest ones near the head, the smaller latory movement. Its two eyes, though large,
at the extremities.  Each row contains twenty- are indistinct,' being' of the colour of the wafive of these.  There are, therefore, fifty pus- ter.
tules to each feeler, and the creature possesses,  When in ambush, or seeking its prey, it rein the whole, four hundred.  These pustules tires into itself, grows smaller and condenses
are capable of acting like cupping-glasses. itself.  It is then scarcely distinguishable in
They are cartilaginous substances, cylindrical, the submarine twilight.
horny, and livid. Uponthe large species they  At such times it looks like a mere ripple in
diminish gradually from the diameter of a five- the water. It resembles anything except a livfranc piece to the size of a split pea. These ing creature.
small tubes can be thrust out and withdrawn by - The devil-fish is crafty. When its victim is
the animal at will.  They are capable of pier- unsuspicious, it opens suddenly.
cing to a depth of more than an inch.         A glutinous mass, endowed with a malignant
This sucking apparatus has all the regularity will; what can be more horrible?
and delicacy of a key-board. It stands forth  It is in the most beautiful azure depths of
at one moment, and disappears the next. The the limpid water that this hideous, voracious
most perfe t-sensitiveness cannot equal the con- polyp delights.  It always conceals itself, a
tractibility of these suckers, always propor- fact which increases its terrible associations.
tioned to the internal movement of the animal When they are seen, it is almost invariably
and its exterior circumstances.  The monster after they have been captured.
is endowed with the qualities of the sensitive  At night, however, and particularly in the
plant.                                      hot season, it becomes phosphorescent.  These
This animal is the same as those which mar- horrible creatures have their passions -their
iners call Poulps; which science designates submarine nuptials.  Then it adorns itself,
Cephalopteras, and which ancient legends call burns and illumines; and from the height of
Krakens.  It is the English sailors who call some rock it may be seen in the deep obscurity




124                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
of the waves below, expanding with a pale ir- vides them into great, medium, and small
radiation-a spectral sun.                   kinds; she admits more readily the existence
The devil-fish not only swims-it walks.  It of the small than of the large species, which is,
is partly fish, partly a reptile. It crawls updn however, the tendency of science in all counthe bed of the sea. At these times it makes tries, for she is by nature more microscopic
use ofits eight feelers, and creeps along in the than telescopic.  She regards them from the
fashion of a species of swift-moving caterpillar. point of view of their construction, and calls
It has no blood, no bones, no flesh. It is them Cephaloptera; counts their antenna, and
soft and flabby-a skin with nothing inside. calls them Octopedes.  This done, she leaves
Its eight tentacles may be turned inside out them. Where science drops them, philosophy
like the fingers of a glove.                takes them up.
It has a single orifice in the centre of its  Philosophy, in her turn, studies these crearadii, which appears at first to be neither the tures.  She goes both less far and further.
vent nor the mouth. It is, in fact, both one She does not dissect, but meditate. Where the
and the other. The orifice performs a double scalpel has laboured, she plunges the'hypothesis.
function.  The entire creature is cold.     She seeks the final cause. Eternal perplexity
The jelly-fish of the Mediterranean is repul- of the thinker. These creatures disturb his
sive.  Contact with that animated gelatinous ideas of the Creator.  They are hideous sursubstance, which envelopes the bather, in which prises. They are the death's-head at the feast.the hands sink in, and the nails scratch inef- of contemplation. The philosopher determines
fectively; which can be torn without killing their characteristics in dread. They are the
it, and which can be plucked off without en- concrete forms of evil. What attitude can he
tirely removing it-that fluid and yet tenacious take towards this treason of creation against
creature, which slips through the fingers, is herself?  To whom can he look for the solution
disgusting; but no horror can equal the sud- of these riddles?  The Possible is a terrible
den apparition of the devil-fish, that Medusa matrix. Monsters are mysteries in their conwith its eight serpents.                    crete form.  Portions of shade issue from the
No grasp can equal the sudden strain of the mass, and something within detaches itself, rolls,
cephaloptera.                              floats, condenses, borrows elements from the
It is with the sucking apparatus that it at- ambient darkness, becomes subject to unknown
tacks. The victim is oppressed by a vacuum  polarizations, assumes a kind of life, furnishes
drawing at numberless points: it is not a claw- itself with some unimagined form from the obing or a biting, but an indescribable scarifica- scurity, and with some terrible spirit from the
tion. A tearing of the flesh is terrible, but less miasma, and wanders ghostlike among living
terrible than a sucking of the blood.  Claws things. It is as if night itself assumed the forms
are harmless compared with the horrible action of animals.  But for what good? with what
of these natural air-cups.  The talons of the object?  Thus we come again to the eternal
wild beast enter into your flesh; but with the questioning.
cephaloptera it is you who enter into the crea-  These animals are indeed phantoms as much
ture. The muscles swell, the fibres of the body as monsters. They are proved and improbable.
are contorted, the skin cracks under the loath- Their fate is to exist in spite of a priori reasome oppression, the blood spurts out and min- sonings. They are the amphibia of the shore
gles horribly with the lymph of the monster, which separates life from  death. Their unwhich clings to its victim by innumerable hid- reality makes their existence puzzling. They
eous mouths. The hydra incorporates itself touch the frontier of man's domain and people
with the man; the man becomes one with the the region of chimeras.  We deny the possibilhydra., The spectre lies upon you: the tiger ity of the vampyre,.and the cephaloptera apcan only devour you; the devil-fish, horrible, pears. Their swarming is a certainty which
sucks your life-blood away. He draws you to disconcerts our confidence.  Optimism, which
him, and into himself; while bound down, is nevertheless in the right, becomes silenced in
glued to the ground, powerless, you feel your- their presence.  They form the visible extremself gradually emptied into. this horrible pouch, ity of the dark circles. They mark the tranwhich is the monster.                       sition of our reality into another. They seem
These strange animals, Science, in accord- to belong to that commencement of terrible life
ance with its habit of excessive caution, even in which the dreamer sees confusedly through the
the face of facts, at first rejects as fabulous; loophole of the night.
then she decides to observe them; then she dis-  That multiplication of monsters, first in the
sects;hlassifies, catalogues, and labels; then Invisible, then in the Possible, has been susprocures specimens, and exhibits them in glass pected, perhaps perceived by magi and philoscases in museums.  They enter then into her ophers in their austere ecstasies and profound
nomenclature; are designated mollusks, inver- contemplations.  Hence the conjecture of a
tebrata, radiata: she determines their position material hell. The demon is simply the inin the animal world a little above the calama- visible tiger. The wild beast which devours
ries, a little below the cuttle-fish; she finds for souls has been presented to the eyes of human
these hydras of the sea an analogous creature beings by St. John, and by Dante in his vision
in fresh water called the argyronecte; she di- of Hell.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                125
If, in truth, the invisible circles of creation  On the day of the previous month when Gilcontinue indefinitely, if after one there is yet liatt had first penetrated into the grotto, the
another, and so forth in illimitable progression; dark outline, vaguely perceived by him in the
if that chain, which for our part we are re- ripples of the secret waters, was this monster.
solved to doubt, really exist, the cephaloptera It was here in its home.
at one extremity proves Satan at the other. It  When, entering for the second time into the
is certain that the wrong-doer at one end proves cavern in pursuit of the crab, he had observed
the existence of wrong at the other.       the crevice in which he supposed that the crab
Every malignant creature, like every pervert- had taken refuge, the pieuvre was there lying in
ed intelligence, is a sphinx. A terrible sphinx wait for prey.
propounding a terrible riddle-the riddle of the  Is it possible to imagine that secret ambush?
existence of Evil.                            No bird would brood, no egg would burst to
It is this perfection of evil which has some- life, no flower would dare to open, no breast to
times sufficed to incline powerful intellects to a give milk, no heart to love, no spirit to soar,
faith in the duality of the Deity, towards that under the influence of that apparition of evil
terrible bifrons of the Manichaans.         watching with sinister patience in the dusk.
X piece of silk stolen during the last war  Gilliatt had thrust his arm deep into the openfrom the palace of the Emperor of China rep- ing; the monster had snapped at it. It held
resents a shark eating a crocodile, who is eating him fast, as the spider howls the fly.
a serpent, who is devouring an eagle, who is  He was in the water up to his belt; his naked
preying on a swallow, who in his turn is eating feet clutching the slippery roundness of the huge
a caterpillar.                              stones at the bottom; his right arm bound and
All nature which is. under our observation is rendered powerless by the flat coils of the long
thus alternately devouring and devoured. The tentacles of the creature, and his body almost
prey prey on each other.                    hidden under the folds and, cross folds of this
Learned men, however, who are also philos- horrible bandage.
ophers, and therefore optimists in their view of  Of the eight arms of the devil-fish, three adcreation, find, or believe they find, an explana- hered to the rock, while five encircled Gilliatt.
tion. Among others, Bonnet of Geneva, that In this way, clinging to the granite on the one
mysterious exact thinker, who was opposed to hand, and on the other to its human prey, it
Buffon, as in later times Geoffroy St. Hilaire enchained him to the rock. Two hundred and
has been to Cuvier, was struck with the idea of fifty suckers were upon him, tormenting him
the final object. His notions may be summed with agony and loathing. He was grasped by
up thus: universal death necessitates universal gigantic hands, the fingers of which were each
sepulture; the devourers are the sextons of the nearly a yard long, and furnished inside with
system of nature. All created things enter into living blisters eating into the flesh.
and form the elements of other. To decay is   As we have said, it is impossible to tear one's
to nourish. Such is the terrible law from which self from the folds of the devil-fish. The atnot even man himself escapes.              tempt ends only in a firmer grasp. The monIn our world of twilight this fatal order of ster clings with more determined force. Its
things produces monsters. You ask for what effort increases with that of his victim; every
purpose. We find the solution here.         struggle produces a tightening of his ligatures.
But is this the solution?  Is this the answer  Gilliatt had but one resource, his knife.
to our questionings?  And if so, why not some  His left hand only was free, but the reader
different order of things?  Thus the question knows with what power he could use it. It
returns.                                    might have been said that he had two right
Let us live: be it so.                   hands.
But let us endeavour that death shall be    His open knife was in this hand.
progress. Let us aspire to an existence in which  The antenna of the devil-fish cannot be cut;
these mysteries shall be made clear.  Let us it is a leathery substance, impossible to divide
follow that conscience which leads us thither.  with the knife; it slips under the edge; its poFor let us never forget that the highest is sition in attack also is such, that to cut it would
only attained through the high.             be to wound the victim's own flesh.
The creature is formidable, but there is a
way of resisting it.  The fishermen of Sark
know this, as does any one who has seen them
III.                    execute certain abrupt movements in the sea.
ANOTHER KIND OF SEA-COMBAT.          The porpoises know it also; they have a way
of biting the cuttle-fish which decapitates it.
SUCH was the creature in whose power Gil- Hence the frequent sight on the sea of pen-fish,
liatt had fallen for some minutes.          poulps, and cuttle-fish without heads.
The monster was the inhabitant of the grotto  The cephaloptera, in fact, is only vulnerable
-the terrible genii of the place. A kind of through the head.
sombre demon of the water.                    Gilliatt was not ignorant of this fact.
All the splendours of the cavern existed for  He had never seen a devil-fish of this size.
it alone.                                  His first encounter was with one of the larger




126                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
species.  Another would have been powerless these wounds is sea-water.  Gilliatt plunged
with terror.                                into it, rubbing himself at the same time with
With the devil-fish, as with a furious bull, the palms of his hands. The swellings disapthere is a certain moment in the conflict which peared under the friction.
must be seized. It is the instant when the bull  By stepping further into the waters, he had,
lowers the neck; it is the instant when the without perceiving it, approached to the species
devil-fish advances its head. The movement of recess already observed by him near the crevis rapid.  He who loses that moment is de- ice where he had been attacked by the devil-fish.
stroyed.                                      This recess stretched obliquely under the great
The things we have described occupied only walls of the cavern, and was dry. The large
a few moments..Gilliatt, however, felt the in- pebbles which had become heaped up there had
creasing power of its innumerable suckers.  raised the bottom above the level of ordinary
The monster is cunning; it tries first to stu- tides. The entrance was a rather large, ellippefy its prey. It seizes, and then pauses awhile. tical arch; a man could enter by stooping. The
Gilliatt grasped his knife; the sucking in- green light of the submarine grotto penetrated
creased.                                    into it, and lighted it feebly.
He looked at the monster, which seemed to   It happened that, while hastily rubbing his
look at him.                                skin, Gilliatt raised his eyes mechanically.
Suddenly it loosened from the rock its sixth  He was able to see far into the cavern.
antenna, and, darting it at him, seized him by  He shuddered.
the left arm.                                 He fancied that he perceived, in the furthest
At the same monuent it advanced its head depth of the dusky recess, something smiling.
with a violent movement. In one second more   Gilliatt had never heard the word " halluciits mouth would have fastened on his breast. nation," but he was familiar with the idea.
Bleeding in the sides, and with his two arms Those mysterious encounters with the invisible,
entangled, he would have been a dead man.   which, for the sake of avoiding the -difficulty of
But Gilliatt was watchful. He avoided the explaining them, we call hallucinations, are in
antenna, and at the moment when the monster nature. Illusions or realities, visions are a fact.
darted forward to fasten on his breast, he struck He who has the gift will see them. Gilliatt, as
it with the knife clenched in his left hand. we have said, was a dreamer. He had, at times,
There were two convulsions in opposite direc- the faculty of a seer. It was not in vain that
tions-that of the devil-fish and that of its prey. he had spent his days in musing among solitaThe movement was rapid as a double flash of ry. places.
lightning.                                    He imagined himself the' dupe of one of those
He had plunged the blade of his knife into mirages which he hai more than once beheld
the flat, slimy substance, and by a rapid move- when in his dreamy moods.
ment, like the flourish of a whip in the air,  The opening was somewhat in the shape of a
describing a circle round the two eyes, he chalk-burner's oven. It was a low niche, with
wrenched the head off as a man would draw a projections like basket-handles.  Its abrupt
tooth.                                      groins contracted gradually as far as the exThe struggle was ended. The folds relaxed. tremity of the crypt, where the heaps of round
The monster dropped away, like the slow de- stones and the rocky roof joined.
taching of hands. The four hundred suckers,   Gilliatt entered, and, lowering his head, addeprived of their sustaining power, dropped at vanced towards the object'in the distance.
once from the man and the rock. The mass      There was, indeed, something smiling.
sank to the bottom of the water.              It was a death's head; but it was not only the
Breathless with the struggle, Gilliatt could head. There was the entire skeleton.  A comperceive upon the stones at his feet two shape- plete human skeleton was lying in the cavern.
less, slimy heaps, the head on one side, the re-  In such a position, a bold man will continue
mainder of the monster on the other.        his researches.
Fearing, nevertheless, some convulsive re-  Gilliatt cast his eyes around. He was surturn of his agony, he recoiled to avoid the reach rounded by a multitude of crabs. The multiof the dreaded tentacles.                  tude did not stir. They were but empty shells.
But the monster was quite dead.             These groups were scattered here and there
Gilliatt closed his knife.               among the masses of pebbles, in irregular constellations.
~ — ~-~ —-— Gilliatt, having his eyes fixed elsewhere, had
walked among them without perceiving them.
IV.                        At the extremity of the crypt, where he had
now penetrated, there was a still greater heap
NOTHING IS HIDDEN, NOTHING LOST. 
of remains.  It was a confused mass of legs,
IT was time that he killed the devil-fish. He antennae, and mandibles.  Claws stood wide
was almost suffocated.  His right arm and his open; bony shells lay still under their bristling
chest were purple. Numberless little swellings prickles: some reversed showed their livid holwere distinguishable upon them; the blood flow- lows. The heap was like a melee of besiegers
ed from them here and there.  The remedy for who had fallen, and lay massed together.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               127
The skeleton was partly buried in this heap.  He felt it, and found a hard substance within,
Under the confused mass of scales and ten- apparently of square form. It was useless to
tacles, the eye perceived the cranium with its endeavour to unfasten the buckle, so he cut the
furrows, the vertebra, the thigh bones, the tibias, leather with his knife.
and the long-jointed finger-bones with their  The girdle contained a little iron box and
nails. The frame of the ribs was filled with some pieces of gold. Gilliatt counted twenty
crabs.  Some heart had once beat there. The guineas.
green mould of the sea had settled round the  The iron box was an old sailor's tobacco-box,
sockets of the eyes. Limpets had left their opening and shutting with a spring. It was
slime upon the bony nostrils. For the rest, very tight and rusty. The spring,being comthere were not in this cave within the rocks pletely oxidized, would not work.
either sea-gulls, or weeds, or a breath of air.  Once more the knife served Gilliatt in a diffiAll was still. The teeth grinned.         culty. A pressure with the point of the blade
The sombre side of laughter is that strange caused the lid to fly up.
mockery of its expression which is peculiar to  The box was open.
a human skull.                              There was nothing inside but pieces of paper.
This marvellous palace of the deep, inlaid  A little roll of very thin sheets, folded in four,
and incrusted with all the gems of the sea, had were fitted in the bottom of the box. They were
at length revealed and told its secret. It was damp, but not injured. The box, hermetically
a savage haunt; the devil-fish inhabited it; it sealed, had preserved them. Gilliatt unfolded
was also a tomb, in which the body of a man them.
reposed.                                     They were three bank-notes of one thousand
The skeleton and the creatures around it pounds sterling each, making together seventyoscillated vaguely in the reflections of the sub- five thousand francs.
terranean water which trembled upon the roof  Gilliatt folded them again, replaced them in
and wall.  The horrible multitude of crabs the box, taking advantage of the space which
looked as if finishing their repast. These crus- remained to add the twenty guineas; and then
tacea seemed to be devouring the carcass. reclosed the box as well as he could.
Nothing could be more strange than the aspect  Next he examined the girdle.
of the dead vermin upon their dead prey.    The leather, which had originally been polishGilliatt had beneath his eyes the storehouse ed outside, was rough within. Upon this tawof the devil-fish.                        ny ground some letters had been traced in black
It was a dismal sight. The crabs had de- thick ink. Gilliatt deciphered them, and read
voured the man, the devil-fish had devoured the words "Sieur Clubin."
the crabs.
There were no remains of clothing anywherevisible. The man must have been seized naked.
Gilliatt, attentively examining, began to re-               V.
move the shells from the skeleton. What had                     BETWEEN S    INCHES
THE 1FATAL DIFFlERENCE BETWVEEN SIX INCHE S
this man been? The body was admirably dis-AD TWO FEET.
sected; it looked as if prepared for the study of
its anatomy; all the flesh was stripped; not a  GILLIATT replaced the box in the girdle, and
muscle remained; not a bone was missing. If placed the girdle in the pocket of his trowsers.
Gilliatt had been learned in science, he might  He left the skeleton among the crabs, with
have demonstrated the fact. The periostea, de- the remains of the devil-fish beside it.
nuded of their covering, were white and smooth,  While he had been occupied with the devilas if they had been polished. But for some fish and the skeleton, the rising tide had subgreen mould of sea-mosses here and there, they merged the entrance to the cave. He was only
would have been like ivory. The cartilaginous enabled to leave it by plunging under the archdivisions were delicately inlaid and arranged. ed entrance. He got through without difficulThe tomb sometimes produces this dismal mo- ty, for he knew the entrance well, and was massaic work.                                ter of these gymnastics in the sea.
The body was, as it were, interred under the  It is easy to understand the drama which had
heap of dead crabs. Gilliatt disinterred it.  taken place there during the ten weeks precedSuddenly he stooped, and examined more ing. One monster had preyed upon another;
closely.                                  the devil-fish had seized Clubin.
He had perceived around the vertebral column  These two embodiments of treachery had met
a sort of belt.                           in the inexorable darkness. There had been
It was a leathern girdle, which had evidently an encounter at the bottom of the sea between
been worn buckled upon the waist of the man these two compounds of mystery and watchfulwhen alive.                               ness; the monster had destroyed the man-a
The leather was moist, the buckle rusty,  horrible fulfilment of justice.
Gilliatt pulled the girdle; the vertebra of  The crab feeds on carrion, the devil-fish on
the skeleton resisted, and he was compelled to crabs. The devil-fish seizes as it passes any
break through them in order to remove it. A  swimming animal-an otter, a dog, a man if it
crust of small shells had begun to form upon it. can-sucks the blood, and leaves the body at




128                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
the bottom of the water. The crabs are the leakage, stop it, and then empty the vessel, or,
spider-formet scavengers of the sea. Putrefying at all events, lighten it. The pumps of the
flesh attracts them; they crowd round it, de- Durande had been lost in the break-up of the
vour the body, and are in their turn consumed wreck. He was reduced to use the scoop of the
by the devil-fish. Dead creatures disappear in bark.
the crab, the crab disappears in the pieuvre.  To find the leak was the most urgent necesThis is the law which we have already pointed sity.
out.                                         Gilliatt set to work immediately, and without
The devil-fish had laid hold of him, and even giving himself time to dress. He shiverdrowned him. Some wave had carried his ed, but he no longer felt either hunger or cold.
body into the cave, and deposited it at the ex-  The water continued to gain upon his vessel.
tremity of the inner cavern, where Gilliatt had Fortunately, there was no wind. The slightest
discovered it.                            swell would have been fatal.
He returned searching among the rocks for  The moon went down.
sea-urchins and limpets. He had no desire for  Bent low, and plunged in the water deeper
crabs; to have eaten them now would have than his waist, he groped about for a long time.
seemed to him like feeding upon human flesh.  He discovered the mischief at last.
For the rest, he thought of nothing but of eat-  During the gale, at the critical moment when
ing whathe could before starting. Nothing now the sloop had swerved, the strong bark had
interposed to prevent his departure. Great tem- bumped and grazed rather violently on the rocks.
pests are always followed by a calm, which lasts One of the projections of the Little Douvre had
sometimes several days. There was, therefore, made a fracture in the starboard side of the
no danger from the sea. Gilliatt had resolved hJull.
to leave the rocks on the following day. It was  The leak unluckily-it might almost have
important, on account of the tide, to keep the been said, maliciously-had been made near the
barrier between the two Douvres during the joint of the two riders, a fact which, joined with
night, but he intended to remove it at daybreak, the fury of the hurricane, had prevented him perto push the sloop out to sea, and set sail for St. ceiving it during his dark and rapid survey in
Sampson. The light breeze which was blowing the height of the storm.
came from the south-west, which was precisely  The fracture was alarming on account of its
the wind which he would want.             size; but fortunately, although the vessel was
It was in the first quarter of the moon, in the sunk lower than usual by the weight of water,
month of May; the days were long.         it was still above the ordinary water-line.
When Gilliatt, having finished his wander-  At the moment when the accident had ocings among the rocks, and appeased his appetite curred, the waves had rolled heavily into the
to some extent, returned to the passage between defile, and had flooded through the breach, and
the two Douvres, where he had left the sloop, the vessel had sunk a few inches under the adthe sun had set, the twilight was increased by ditional weight; so that, even after the subsithat pale light which comes from a crescent dence of the water, the weight, having raised the
moon; the tide had attained its height, and was water-line, had kept the hole still under the surbeginning to ebb. The funnel, standing upright face. Hence the imminence of the danger.
above the sloop, had been covered by the foam  But if he could succeed in stopping the leak, he
during the tempest with a coating of salt which could empty the sloop; the hole once staunchglittered white in the light of the moon.  ed, the vessel would rise to its usual water-line,
This circumstance reminded Gilliatt that the the fracture would be above water, and in this
storm had inundated the sloop both with surf position the-repair would be easy, or at least posand rain-water, and that, if he meant to start in sible. He had still, as we have already said,
the morning, it would be necessary to bale it out. his carpenters' tools in good condition.
Before leaving to go in quest of crabs, he had  But, meanwhile, what uncertainty must he
ascertained that it had about six inches of water not endure! What perils, what chances of acin the hold. The scoop which he used for the cidents! He heard the water rising inexorapurpose would, he thought, be sufficient for bly. One shock, and all would have perished.
throwing the water overboard.             What misery seemed in store for him. Perhaps
On arriving at the barrier, Gilliatt was struck his endeavours were even now too late.
with terror. There were nearly two feet of wa-  He reproached himself bitterly. He thought
ter in the sloop. A terrible discovery-the bark that he ought to have seen the damage immedihad sprung a leak.                        ately. The six inches of water in the hold
She had been making water gradually during ought to have suggested it to him. He had
his absence. Burdened as she was, two feet of been stupid enough to attribute these six inches
water was a perilous addition. A little more, of water to the rain and the foam. He was anand she must inevitably founder. If he had re- gry with himself for having slept and eaten;
turned' but an hour later, he would probably he taxed himself even with his weariness, and
have found nothing above water but the funnel almost with the storm and the dark night. All
and the mast.                             seemed to him to have been his own fault.
There was not a minute to be lost in deliber-  These bitter self-reproaches filled his mind
ation. It was absolutely necessary to find the while engaged in his labour, but they did not




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               129
prevent his considering well the work he was which in their language is called "service," and
engaged in.                               with this they push the bulging sailcloth as far
The leak had been found-that was the first as they can into the leak.
step; tO staunch it was the second. That was  Of this " service" Gilliatt had none. All the
all that was possible for the moment. Joinery rags and tow which he had stored up had been
work cannot be carried on under water.    used in his operations, or carried away by the
It was a favourable circumstance that the storm.
breTh in the hull was in the space between the  If necessary, he might possibly have been
two chains which held the funnel fast on the able to find some remains by searching among
s arboard side. The stuffing with which it was the rocks. The sloop was sufficiently lightened
necessary to stop it could be fixed to these for him to leave it with safety for a quarter of
chains.                                   an hour; buthow could he make-t'fis search
The water, meanwhile, was gaining.  Its without a light?  The darkness was complete.
depth was now between two and three feet, and There was no longer any moon-nothing but
it reached above his knees.               the starry sky. He had no dry tow with which
to make a match, no tallow to make a candle,
_ —- --                    no fire to light one, no lantern to shelter it from
the wind. In the sloop and among the'rocks
VI.                     all was confused and indistinct. He could hear
DE PROFUNDIS AD ALTUM.           the water lapping against the wounded hull, but
he could not even see the crack. It was with
GILLIATT had to his hand among his reserve his hands that he had ascertained the bulging
of rigging for the sloop a pretty large tarpaulin, of the tarpaulin. In that darkness it was imfurnished with long lanyards at the four corners. possible to make any useful search for rags of
He took this tarpaulin, made fast the two canvas or pieces of tow scattered among the
corners by the lanyards to the two rings of the breakers. Who. could glean these waifs and
chains of the funnel on the same side as the strays without being able to see his path?  Gilleak, and threw it over the gunwale. The tar- liatt looked sorrowfully at the sky; all those
paulin hung like a sheet between the Little stars, he thought, and yet no light!
Douvre and the bark, and sunk in the water.  The. water in the bark having diminished,
The pressure of the water endeavouring to en- the pressure from  without increased.  The
ter into the hold, kept it close to the hull upon bulging of the canvas became larger, and was
the gap. The heavier the pressure, the closer still increasing, like a frightful abscess ready to
the sail adhered. It was stuck by the water it- burst. The situation, which had been improved
self right upon the fracture. The wound of the for a short time, began to be threatening.
bark was staunched.                          Some means of stopping it effectually was
The tarred canvas formed an effectual barrier absolutely necessary. He had nothing left but
between the interior of the-hold and the waves his clothes, which he had stretched to dry upon
without. Not a drop of water entered. The the projecting rocks of the Little Douvre.
leak was masked, but was not stopped. It was  He hastened to fetch them, and placed them
a respite only.                            upon the gunwale of the sloop.
Gilliatt took the scoop and began to bale the  Then he took his tarpaulin overcoat, and,
sloop. It was time that she were lightened. kneeling in the water, thrust it into the crevice,
The labour warmed him a little, but his weai- and pushing the swelling of the sail outward,
ness was extreme. He was forced to acknowl- emptied it of water. To the tarpaulin coat he
edge to himself that he could n t complete the added the sheepskin, then his Guernsey shirt,
work of staunching the hold. He had scarcely and then his jacket. The hole received them
eaten anything, and he had the humiliation of all. He had nothing left but his sailor's trowfeeling himself exhausted.                 sers, which he took off and pushed in with the
He measured the progress of his work by the other articles. This enlarged and strengthened
sinking of thelevel of water below his knees. the stuffing. The stopper was made, and it
The fall was slow.                        appeared to be sufficient.
Moreover, the leakage was only interrupted;  These clothes passed partly through the gap,
the evil was moderated, not repaired. The tar- the sail-cloth outside enveloping them.  The
paulin pushed into the gap began to bulge in- sea, making an effort to enter, pressed against
side, looking as if a fist were under the canvas the obstacle, spread it over the gap, and blocked
endeavouring to force it through. The canvas, it. It was a sort of exterior compression.
strong and pitchy, resisted; but the swelling  Inside, the centre only of the bulging having
and the tension increased; it was not certain been driven out, there remained all around the
that it would not give way, and at any moment gap, and the stuffing just thrust through, a sort
the swelling might become a rent. The irrup- of circular pad formed by the tarpaulin, which
tion of water must then recommence.       was rendered still firmer by the irregularities
In such a case, as the crews of vessels in dis- of the fracture with which it had become entress know well, there is no other remedy than tangled.
stuffing.  The sailors take rags of every kind  The leak was staunched, but nothing could
which they can find at hand-everything, in fact, be more precarious.. Those sharp splinters of
I




130                         THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
the gap which fixed the tarpaulin might pierce that it must remain as it was, and every further
it and make holes, by which the water would effort was useless. The apparatus, hastily conenter, while -he would not even perceive it in structed, was at the mercy of the waves.  How
the darkness.  There was little probability of would this inert obstacle work?  It was this
the stoppage lasting until daylight.  Gilliatt's obstacle now, not Gilliatt, which had to sustain
anxiety changed its form; but he felt'it in- the combat-that handful of rags, not that increasing at the same time that he found his telligence.  The swell of a wave would suffice
strength leaving him.                       to reopen the fracture. More or less of presHe had again set to work to bale out the sure; the whole question was comprised in that
hold, but his arms, in spite of all his efforts,. formula.
could scarcely lift a scoopful of water.  He  All depended upon a brute struggle between
was naked and shivering. He felt as if the two mechanical quantities.   Henceforth he
end were now at hand.                       could neither aid his auxiliary nor stop his enOne possible chance flashed across his mind. emy.  He was no longer any other than a
There might be a sail in sight.  A fishing-boat mere spectator of this struggle, which was one
which should by any accident be in the neigh- for him of life or death. He who had ruled
bourhood of the Douvres might come to his over it, a supreme intelligence, was at the last
assistance. The moment had arrived when a moment compelled to resign all to a mere
helpmate was absolutely necessary.  With a blind resistance.
man and a lantern all might yet be saved.     No trial, no terror that he had yet underIf there were two persons, one might easily gone, could bear comparison with this.
bale the vessel. Since the leak was temporari-  From the time when he had taken up his
ly staunched, as soon as she could be relieved abode upon the Douvres, he had found himself
of this burden she would rise, and regain her surrounded, and, as it were, possessed by soliordinary water-line. The leak would tlen'ie tude. This solitude more than surrounded, it
above.the surface of the water, the repairs would enveloped him. A thousand menaces at once
be practicable, and he would be able immediate- had met him face to face. The wind was ally to replace the stuff by a piece of planking, ways there, ready to become furious; the sea,
and thus substitute for the temporary stoppage ready to roar. There was no stopping that terria complete repair. If not, it would be necessary ble mouth, the wind-no imprisoning that dread
to wait till daylight-to wait the whole night monster, the sea. And yet he had striven-he,
long; a delay which might prove ruinous.    a solitary man, had combated hand to hand
If by chance some ship's lantern,should be with the ocean, had wrestled even with the
in sight, Gilliatt would be able to signal it tempest.
from the height of the Great Douvre.  The     Many other anxieties, many other necessities
weather was calm; there was no wind or sea; had he made head against. There was no form
there was a possibility of the figure of a man of distress with which he had not become familbeing observed moving against the background iar. He had been compelled to execute great
of the starry sky.  A captain of a ship, or works without tools, to move vast burdens witheven the master of a fishing-boat, would not out aid; without science, to resolve problems;
be at night in the waters of tle Douvres with- without provisions, to find food; without bed or
out directing his glass upon the rock, by way roof to cover it, to find shelter and sleep.
of precaution.                                Upon that solitary rock he had been subjected
Gilliatt hoped that some one might perceive by turns to all the varied and cruel tortures of
him.                                        nature; oftentimes a gentle mother, not less
He climbed upon the wreck, grasped the often a pitiless destroyer.
knotted rope, and mounted upon the Great      He had conquered his isolation, conquered
Douvre.                                     hunger, conqtiered thirst, conquered cold, conNot a sail was visible around the horizon; quered fever, conquered labour, conquered sleep.
not a boat's lantern. The wide expanse, as far He had encountered a mighty coalition of obas eye could reach, was a desert. No assist- stacles formed to bar his progress. After his
ance was possible, and no resistance possible.  privations, there were the elements; after the
Gilliatt felt himself without resources-a sea, the tempest; after the tempest, the devilfeeling which he had not felt until then.  fish; after the monster, the spectre.
A dark fatality was now his master. With    A dismal irony was then the end of all.
all his labour, all his success, all his courage, Upon this rock, whence he had thought to arise
he and his bark, and its precious burden, were triumphant, the spectre of Clubin had arisen to
about to become the sport of the waves. He mock him with a hideous smile.
had no other means of continuing the struggle;  The grin of the spectre was well founded.
he became listless.  How could he prevent the Gilliatt saw himself ruined-saw himself no
tide from returning, the water from rising, the less than Clubin in the grasp of death.
night from continuing?  The'temporary stop-  The winter, famine, fatigue, the dismemberpage which he had made was his sole reliance. ment of'the wreck, the removal of the machinHe had exhausted and stripped himself in con- ery, the equinoctial gale, the thunder, the monstructing and completing it; he could neither ster, were all as nothing compared with this
fortify nor add to it.  The stop-gap was such small fracture in a vessel's planks. Against the




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               131
cold one could procure-and he had procured  He was there alone, in that darkness upon
-fire; against hunger, the shell-fish of the the rock, in the midst of that sea, stricken down
rocks; against thirst, the rain; against the dif- with exhaustion, like one smitten by lightning,
ficulties of his great task, industry and energy; naked like the gladiator in the circus, save that
against the sea and the storm, the breakwater; for circits he had the vast. horizon; instead of
against the devil-fish, the knife; but against the wild beasts, the shadows of darkness; instead of
terrible leak he had no weapon.           the faces of the crowd, the eyes of the unknown;
The hurricane had bequeathed him this sinis- instead of the Vestals, the stars; instead of Cae-'ter farewell. The last struggle, the traitorous sar, the All-powerful.
thrust, the treacherous side-blow of the vanquish-  His whole being seemed to dissolve in cold,
dd foe. In its flight the tempest had turned and fatigue, powerlessness, piayer, and darkness, and
hot this arrow in the rear. It was the final and his eyes closed.
deadly stab of his antagonist.
It was possible to combat with the tempest,
but how could he struggle with that -insidious
enemy who now attacked him?                                 VII.
If the stoppage gave way, if the leak reopened,   THE APPEAL IS HEARD.
nothing could prevent the sloop foundering. It
would be the bursting of the ligature of the ar-  SOME hours passed.
tery; and once under the water with its heavy  The sun rose in an unclouded sky.
burden, no power could raise it. The noble   Its first ray shone upon a motionless form
struggle, with two months' Titanic labour, end- upon the Great Douvre. It was Gilliatt.
ed then in annihilation. To recommence would  He was still outstretched upon the rock.
be impossible. He had neither forge nor ma-  He was naked, cold, and stiff, but he did not
terials. At daylight, in all probability, he was shiver. His closed ejlids were wan. It would
about to see all his work sink slowly and irre- have been difficult for a beholder to say whether
coverably into the gulf. Terrible to feel that the form before him was a corpse.
sombre power beneath. The sea snatched his   The sun seemed to look upon him.
prize from his hands.                        If he were not dead, he was already so near
With his bark engulfed, no fate awaited him  death that the slightest cold wind would have
but to perish of hunger and cold, like the poor sufficed to extinguish life.
shipwrecked sailor on "The Man" rock.        The wind began to breathe, warm and aniDuring two long months the intelligences mating-the opening breath of May.
which hover invisibly over the world had been  Meanwhile the sun ascended in the deep blue
the spectators of these things-on one hand the sky; its rays, less horizontal, flushed the sky.
wide expanse, the waves, the winds,-the light- Its light became warmth. It enveloped the
nings, the meteors; on the other, a man. On slumbering form.
one hand the sea, on the other a human mind;  Gilliatt moved not. If he breathed, it was
on the one hand the infinite, on the other an only that feeble respiration which could scarceatom.                                     ly tarnish the surface of a mirror.
The battle had been fierce, and behold the  The sun continued its ascent, its rays striking
iabortive issue of those prodigies of valour.  less and less obliquely upon the naked man.
Thus did this heroism without parallel end in The gentle breeze, which had been merely teppowerlessness; thus ended in despair that' for- id, became hot.
midable struggle-that struggle of a nothing  The rigid and naked body remained still
against all; that Iliad against one.      without movement, but the skin seemed less
Gilliatt gazed wildly into space.       livid.
He had no clothing. He stood naked in the  The sun, approaching the zenith, shone almidst of that immensity.                  most perpendicularly upon the plateau of the
Then, overwhelmed by the sense of that un- Douvres. A flood of light descended from the
known infinity, like one bewildered by a strange heavens; the vast reflection from the glassy sea
persecution, confronting the shadows of night, increased its splendour:' the rock itself imbibed
in the presence of that impenetrable darkness, the rays and warmed the sleeper.
in the midst of the murmur of the waves, the  A sigh raised his breast.
swell, the foam, the breeze,: under the clouds,  He lived.
under that vast diffusion of force, under that  The sun continued its gentle offices.. The
mysterious firmament of wings, of stars, of gulfs, wind, which was already the breath of summer
having around him and beneath him the ocean, and of noon, approached him like loving lips
above him the constellations, under him the great that breathed upon him softly.
unfathomable deep, he sank, gave up the strug-  Gilliatt moved.
gle, lay down upon the rock, his face towards the  The peaceful calm upon the sea was perfect.
stars, humbled, and, uplifting his joined hands Its murmur was -like the droning of the nurse
towards the terrible depths, he cried aloud, beside the sleeping infant. The rock seemed
"Have mercy!"                             cradled in the waves.
Weighed down to earth by that immensity,  The sea-birds, who knew that form, fluttered
he prayed.                                above it; not with their old, wild astonishment,




132'                 TTHE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
but with a sort of fiaternal tenderness. They ter-line, dressed himself, ate, drank some wauttered plaintive cries-they seemed to be call- ter, and was joyful.
ing to him. A sea-mew, who no doubt knew   - The gap in the side of his vessel, examined in
him, was tame enough to come near him. It broad daylight, proved to require more labour
began to caw as if speaking to him. The sleep- than he had thought. It was a serious fracture.
er seemed not to hear. The bird hopped upon The. entire day was too long for its repair.
his shoulder, and pecked his lips softly.    At daybreak on the morrow, after removing
Gilliatt opened his eyes.               the barrier and reopening the entrance to the
The birds dispersed, chattering wildly.  defile, dressed in the tattered clothing which
Gilliatt arose, stretched himself like a roused had served to stop the leak, having about him
lion, ran to the edge of the platform, and looked Clubin's girdle and the seventy-five thousand
down into the space between the two Douvres.  francs, standing erect in the sloop, now repairThe sloop was there, intact; the stoppage ed, by the side of the machinery which he had
had held out; the sea had probably disturbed rescued, with a favourable breeze and a good
it but little.                            sea, Gilliatt pushed off from the Douvres.
All was saved.                            He put the sloop's head for Guernsey.
He was no longer weary. His powers had re-  At the moment of his departure from the
turned. His swoon had ended in a deep sleep. rocks, any one who had been there might have
He descended and baled out the sloop,,emp- heard him singing in an undertone the air of
tied the hold, raised the leakage above the wa- "Bonny Dundee."




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                133
THIRD PART.-DERUCHETTE.
BOOK I.
NIGHT AND THE MOON.
I.                     plete, that its inmates had not even yet heard
the news of the great local erent which had that
THtIE HARBOUR CLOCK.
day set all St. Sampson in a ferment. The recTHE St. Sampson of the present day is almost tor of the parish, the Rev. Ebenezer Caudray,.
a city; the St. Sampson of forty years since was had become rich. His uncle, the magnificent
almost a village.                          Dean of St. Asaph, had just died in London.
When the winter evenings were endedand The news-had been brought by the mail sloop,
spring had come, the inhabitants were not long the ".Cashmere," arrived from England that
out of bed after sundown. St. Sampson was very morning, and the mast of which could be
an ancient parish which had long been accus- perceived in the roads of St. Peter's Port. The
tomed to the sound of curfew-bell, and which "Cashmere" was to depart for Southampton at
had a traditional habit of blowing out the can- noon on the morrow, and, so the rumour ran,
dle at an early hour. Folks there went to bed to convey the reverend gentleman, who had been
and rose with the day. Those old Norman vil- suddenly summoned to England, to be present
lagers are generally great rearers of poultry.  at the official opening of the will, not to speak
The people of St. Sampson, except a few rich of other urgent imatters connected with an imfamilies among the townsfolk, are also a popu- porant inheritance. All day long St. Samplation of quarriers and carpenters. The port is son had been conversing on this subject. The
a port of ship repairing. The quarrying of stone " Cashmere," the Rev. Ebenezer, his deceased
and the fashioning of timber goes on all day uncle, his riches, his departure, his possible
long; here the labourer with the pickaxe, there preferment in the future, had formed the foundthe workman with the mallet. At night they ations of that perpetual buzzing. A solitary
sink with fatigue, and sleep like lead. Rude house, still uninformed on these matters, had
labours bring heavy slumbers.              remainedat peace. This was the Bravees.
One evening, in the commencement of the    Mess Lethierry had jumped into his hammonth of May, after watching the crescent moon mock, and lay down in his clothing.
for some instants through the trees, and listen-  Since the catastrophe of the Durande, to get
ing to the step of Deruchette walking alone in into his hammock had been his resource. Evthe cool air in the garden of the Bravees, Mess ery captive has recourse to stretching himself
Lethierry had returned to his room looking on upon his pallet, and Mess Lethierry was the
the harbour, and had retired to rest; Douce and captive of his grief. To go to bed was a truce,
Grace were already a-bed. Except Deruchette, a gain in breathing-time, a suspension of ideas.
the whole household were sleeping. Doors and He neither slept nor watched. Strictly speakshutters were everywhere closed. Footsteps ing, for two months and a half-for so long was
were silent in the streets.  Some few lights, it since his misfortune-Mess Lethierry had
like winking eyes about to close in rest, showed been in a sort of somnambulism. He had not
here and there in windows in the roofs, indi- yet regained possession of his faculties. He
eating the hour of domestics going to bed. Nine was in that cloudy ana confused condition of
had already struck by the old Roman clock, sur- intellect with which those are familiar who have
rounded by ivy, which shares with the church undergone overwhelming afflictions. His reof St. Brelade at Jersey the peculiarity of hav- flections were not thought, his sleep was no reing for its day four ones (IIII), which are used pose. By day he was not awake, by night not
to signify eleven hundred and eleven,      asleep. He was up, and then gone to rest, that
The popularity of Mess Lethierry at St. Samp- was all. When he was in his hammock forgetson had been founded on his success. The fulness came to him a little. He called that
success at an end, there had come a void. It sleeping.  Chimeras floated about him  and
might be imagined that ill fortune is contagious, within him. The nocturnal cloud, full of conand that the unsuccessful have a plague, so fused faces, traversed his brain. Sometimes it
rapidly are they put in quarantine. The young was the Emperor Napoleon dictating to him the
men of well-to-do families avoided Deruchette. story of his life; sometimes there were several
The isolation around the Bravees was so com. Deruchettes; strange birds were in the trees;




134                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
the streets of Lons-le-Saulnierbecame serpents. times her expression was very serious, a sad
Nightmares are the brief respites of despair. thing for that sweet nature.  She made an efHe passed his nights in dreaming, and his days fort, however, sometimes to laugh before Mess
in reverie.                                 Lethierry and to divert him; but her cheerfulSometimes he remained all the afternoon at ness grew tarnished from day to day-gathered
the window of his room, which looked out upon dust like the -wing of a butterfly with a -pin
the port, with his head drooping, his elbows on through his body. Whether through sorrow for
the stone, his ears resting on his fists, his back,her uncle's sorrow-for there are griefs which
turned to'the whole world, his eye fixed on the are the reflections of other griefs-or whether
old massive iron ring fastened in the wall of the for any other reasons, she appeared at this time
house, at only a few feet from his window, where Io be much inclined towards religion. In the
in the old days he used to moor the Durande. time of the old rector:-M; Jaqiuemin Herode,
He'was looking at the rust which gathered on she scarcely went to church, as has been already
the ring.                                   said, four times a year. Now she was, on the
He was reduced to the mere mechanical habit contrary, assiduous in her attendance.  She
of living.                                  missed no service, neither of Sunday or of
The bravest men, when deprived of their Thursday. Pious souls in the parish remarked
most cherished idea, will come to this.  His with satisfaction that amendment; for it is a
life had become a void. Life is a voyage; the great blessing when a girl who runs so many
idea is the itinerary. The plan of their course dangers in the world turns her thoughts towards
gone, they stop. The object is lost, the strength God. That enables the poor parents at least
of purpose gone. Fate has a secret discretion- to be easy on the subject of love-making and
ary power. It is able to touch with its rod even what not.
-our moral being. Despair is almost the desti-  In the evening, whenever the weather permittution of the soul. Only the greatest minds re- ted, she walked for an hour or two in the garden
sist, and for what-?                        of the Bravees.  She was almost as pensive
Mess Lethierry was always meditating, if ab- there as Mess Lethierry, and almost always
sorption can be called meditation, in the depth alone. Deruchette went to bed last. This,
of a sort of cloudy abyss.  Broken words some- however, did not prevent Douce and Grace
times escaped him like these: " There is noth- watching her a little, by that instinct for spying
ing left for me now but to ask yonder for leave which is common to servants; spying is such a
to go."                                     relaxation after household work.
There was -a certain contradiction in that  As to Mess Lethierry, in the abstracted state
nature, complex as the sea, of which Mess of his mind, these little changes in Ddruchette's
Lethierry was, so to speak, the product.  Mess habits escaped him.  Moreover, his nature had
Lethierry's grief did not seek relief in prayer.  little in common with the Duenna.  He had
To be powerless is a certain strength.  In not even remarked her regularity at the church.
the presence of our two great expressions of Tenacious of his prejudices against the clergy
this blindness-destiny and nature-it is in his and their sermons, he would have seen with litpowerlessness that man.has found his chief sup- tie pleasure these frequent attendances at the
port in prayer.                             parish church. It was not because his own
Man seeks succour from his terror; his anx- moral condition was not undergoing change.
iety bids him kneel.                        Sorrow is a cloud which changes form.
But Mess Lethierry prayed not.              Robust natures, as we have said, are someIn the time when he was happy, God existed times almost overthrown by sudden great misfor him  almost in visible contact. Lethierry fortunes, but not quite.  Manly characters
addressed Him, pledged his word to Him, seem- such as Lethierry's experience a reaction in a
ed at times to hold familiar intercourse with given time. M Despair has its backward stages.
Him. But in the hour of his misfortune-a phe- From  overwhelmment we rise to dejection;
nomena not unfrequent-the idea of God had from dejection to affliction; from affliction to
become eclipsed in his mind.. This happens melancholy. Melancholy is a twilight state;
when the mind has created for itself a deity suffering melts into it and becomes a sombre
clothed with human qualities.,joy. Melancholy is the pleasure of being sad.
In the state of mind in which he existed,   These elegiac moods were not made for Lethere was for Lethierry only one lear vision-  thierry. Neither the nature of his temperament
the smile of Deruchette. Beyond this all was nor the character of his misfortune suited those
dark.                                       delicate shades. But at the moment at which
For some time, apparently on account of the we have returned to him, the reverie of his first
loss of the Durande, and of the blow which it despair had for more than a week been tending
had been to them, this pleasant- smile had been to disperse, without, however, leaving him less
rare. She seemed always thoughtful.    Her sad. He was more inactive, was always dull,
birdlike playfulness, his childlike ways were but he was no longer overwhelmed. A certain
gone. She was never seen now in the morning, perception of events and circumstances was
at the sound of the cannon which announced returning to him, and he began to experience
daybreak, saluting the rising sun with the something of that phenomenon which may be
"Boom! Daylight! -Come in, please!"    At called the return to reality.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                135
Thus by day in the great lower room he did der somewhat irregular circumstances, the sum
not listen to the words of those about him, but of fifty thousand francs. Before leaving St.
he heard them. Grace came one morning quite Malo lately, I placed in the hands of ycur confitriumphant to tell Deruchette that he had un- dential man of business, Sieur Clubin, on your
done the cover of a newspaper.             account, three bank-notes of one thousand pounds
This half acceptance of realities is in itself each, making together seventy-five thousand
a good symptom, a token of convalescence. francs. You will, no doubt, find this reimburseGreat afflictions produce a stupor; it is by such ment sufficient.
little acts that men return to themselves. This  "Sieur Clubin received your money, includimprovement, however, is at first only an aggra- ing interest, in a remarkably energetic manner.
vation of the evil. The dreamy condition.of He appeared to me, indeed, singularly zealous.
mind in which the sufferer has lived, has served, This is, in fact, my reason for apprising you of
while it lasted, to blunt his grief. His sight be- the facts.
fore was thick. He felt little. Now his view   Your other confidential man of business,
is clear, nothing escapes him, and his wounds                           "RANTAINE.
reopen. Each detail that he perceives serves  Postscript.
to remind him of his sorrow. He sees every-   "Sieur Clubin was in possession of a revolvthing again in memory, every remembrance is er, which will explain to you the circumstance
a regret. All kinds of bitter aftertastes lurk in of my having no receipt."
that return to life. He is better, and yet worse.
Such was the condition of Lethierry. In re-  He who has ever touched a torpedo, or Leyturning to full consciousness, his sufferings had den jar fully charged, may have a notion of the
become more distinct.                      effect produced on Mess Lethierry by his reading
A sudden shock first recalled him to a sense of this letter.
of reality.                                  Under that envelope, in that sheet of paper
One afternoon, between the 15th and 20th of folded in four, to which he had at first paid so
April, a double knock at the door of the great little attention, lay the elements of an extraorlower room of the Bravees had signalled the ar- dinary commotion.
rival of the postman. Douce had opened the   He recognized the writing and the signature.
door; there was a letter.                  As to the facts which the letter contained, at
The letter came from beyond sea; it was ad- first he understood nothing.
dressed to Mess Lethierry, and bore the post-  The excitement of the event, however, soon
mark " Lisboa."                            gave movement to his faculties.
Douce had taken the letter to Mess Lethierry,  The effective part of the shock he had received
who was in his room. He had taken it, placed lay in the phenomenon of the seventy-five thouit mechanically upon the table, and had not sand francs entrusted by Rantaine to Clubin;
looked at it.                              this was a riddle which compelled Lethierry's
The letter remained an entire week upon the brain to work. Conjecture is a healthy occupatable without being unsealed.              tion for the mind. Reason is awakened, logic
It happened, however, one morning that is called into play.
Douce said to Mess Lethierry,                For some time past, public opinion in Guern" Shall I brush the dust off your letter, sir?" sey had been undergoing a reaction on the subLethierry seemed to arouse from his lethargy: ject of Clubin-that man of such high reputa"Ay, ay! You are right," he said; and he tion for honour during many years; that man
opened the letter, and read as follows:    so unanimously regarded with esteem.  People
had begun to question and to doubt; there were
"At Sea. 10th March.  wagers pro and con.  Some light had been
"To Mess Lethierry, of St. Sampson:        thrown on the question in singular ways. The
" You will be gratified to receive news of me. figure of Clubin began to come clearer; that is
I am aboard the'Tamaulipas,' bound for the to say, he began to be blacker in the eyes of the
port of'Noreturn.' Among the crew is a sail- world.
or named Ahier-Tostevin, from Guernsey, who   A judicial inquiry had taken place at St.
will return, and will have some facts to commu- Malo for the purpose of ascertaining what had
nicate'to you. I take the opportunity of our become of the coastguard-man, number 619.
-speaking a vessel, the'Hernan Cortes,' bound Legal perspicacity had got upon a false scent,
for Lisbon, to forward you this letter.    a thing which happens not -unfrequently.  It
"'You will be astonished to learn that I am  had started with the hypothesis' that the man
going to be honest.                        had been enticed by Zuela, and shipped aboard
"As honest as Sieur Clubin.              the "Tamaulipas" for Chili. This ingenious
"I am bound to believe that you know of supposition had led to a considerable amount
certain recent occurrences; nevertheless, it is, of wasted conjecture.  The'shbirt-sightedness
perhaps, not altogether superfluous to send you of justice had failed to take note of Rantaine,
a full account of them.                    but in the progress of inquiry the authorities
"To proceed, then:                       had come upon other clews. The affair, so ob"I have returned you your money.         scure, became complicated. Clubin had become
" Some years ago, I borrowed from you, un-mixed up with the enigma. A   coincidence,




136                       THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
perhaps a direct connection had been found be- a glimpse in their minds of the look-out man,
tween the departure of the "Tamaulipas" and number 619, alongside of the mysterious Clubin
the loss of the'Durande. At the wine-shop -quite a tragic drama. Clubin possibly was
near the Dinan Gate, where Clubin thought not an actor in it, but his presence was visible
himself entirely unknown, he had been recog- in the side scenes.
nised. The wine-shop keeper hadtalked; Clu-  The supposition of a wilful destruction of the
bin had bought a bottle of brandy that night. Durande did not explain everything. There
For whom?    The gunsmith of St. Vincent was a revolver in the story, with no part yet asStreet, too, had talked. Clubin had purchased signed to it. The revolver, probably, belonged
a revolver. For what object? The landlord to the other affair.
of the "Jean Auberge" had talked. Clubin     The scent of the public is keen and true. Its
had absented himself in an inexplicable man- instinct excels in those discoveries of truth by
ner. Captain Gertrais-Gabourreau had talked; pieces and fragments. Still, amidst these facts,
ClTbin had determined to start, although warn- which seemed to point pretty clearly to a case.ed, and knowing that he might expect a great of barratry, there were serious difficulties.
fog. The crew of the Durande had talked.     Everything was consistent- everything coIn fact, the collection of the freight had been herent; but a basis was wanting.
neglected, and the stowage badly arranged, a  People do not wreck vessels for the pleasure
negligence easy to comprehend, if the captain of wrecking them. Men do not run all those
had determined to wreck the ship. The Guern- risks of fog, rocks, swimming, concealment, and
sey. passenger, too, had spoken. Clubin had flight without an interest. What could have
evidently imagined that he had run upon the been Clubin's interest?
Hanways. The Torteval people had spoken.     The act seemed plain, but the motive was
Clubin had visited that neighbourhood a few puzzling.
days before the loss of the Durande, and had  Hence a doubt in many minds. Where there
been seen walking in the direction of Plein- is no motive, it is natural to infer that there was
mont, near the Hanways. He had with him a no act.
travelling-bag.  "He had set out with it, and  The missing link was important. The letter
come back without it."  The birds'-nesters had from Rantaine seemed to supply it.
spoken: their story seemed to be possibly con-  This letter furnished a motive for Clubin's
nected with Clubin's disappearance, if, instead supposed crime —seventy-five thousand francs to
of ghosts, they supposed smugglers. Finally, be appropriated.
the haunted house of Pleinmont itself had spo-  Rantaine was the Deus ex 2nachina. He had
ken. Persons who had determined to get in- descended from the clouds with a lantern in his
formation, had climbed and entered the win- hand.  His letter was the final light upon the
dows, and had found inside-what?  The very affair. It explained everything, and even promtravelling-bag.which had been seen in Sieur Clu- ised a witness in the person of Ahier-Tostevin.
bin's possession. The authorities of the Dot-  The part which it at once suggested for the
zaine of Torteval had taken possession of the revolver was decisive. Rantaine was undoubtbag and had it opened. It was found to con- edly well informed. His letter pointed clearly
tain provisions, a telescope, a chronometer, a the explanation of the mystery.
man's clothing, and linen marked with Clubin's  There could be no possible palliation of Cluinitials. All this in the gossip of St. Malo and bin's crime. He had premeditated the shipGuernsey became more and more like a case of wreck; the proofs were the preparations disfraud. Obscure hints were brought together; covered in the haunted house. Evencupposing
there appeared to have been a singular disregard him innocent, and admitting the wreck to have
of advice; a willingness to encounter the dangers been accidental, would he inot, at the last moof the fog; a suspected negligence in the stow- ment,)vhen he had determined to sacrifice himage of the cargo. Then there was the mysteri- self with the vessel, have intrusted the seventyous bottle of brandy; a drunken helmsman; a five thousand francs to the men who escaped in
substitution of the captain for the helmsman; a the long-boat?  The evidence was strikingly
management of the rudder, to say the least, un- complete. Now what had become of Clubin?
skilful. The heroism of remaining behind upon He had probably been the victim of his blunder.
the wreck began to look like roguery. Clubin, He had doubtless perished upon the Douvres.
besides, had evidently been deceived as to the  All this construction of surmises, which were
rock he was on. Granted an intention to wreck not far from the reality, had for several days
the vessel, it was easy to understand the choice occupied the mind of Mess Lethierry.  The
of the Hanways, the shore easily reached by letter from Rantaine had done him the service
swimming, and the intended'concealment in the of setting him to think. He was at first shaken
haunted house awaiting the opportunity for by his surprise; then he made an effort to reflight. The travelling-bag, that suspicious pre- fleet. He made another effort more difficult
parative, completed the demonstration.  By still, that of inquiry. He was induced to listen,
what link this'affair connected itself with the and even to seek conversation. At the end of a
other affair of the disappearance of the coast- week he had become, to a certain degree, in the
guard-man nobody knew.    People imagined world again; his thoughts had regained their
some connection, and that was all. They had coherence, and he was almost restored.  He




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                              137
had emerged from his confused and troubled anything to them. Are you not poor yourself?
state.                                     And then there is the painful question of dress.
Rantaine's letter, even admitting that Mess To have to refuse a wife a new ribbon, what a
Lethierry could ever have entertained any hope torture! To have to refuse one who has made
of-the reimbursement of his money, destroyed you a gift of her beauty a trifling article; haggle
that last chance.                          over such matters, like a miser! Perhaps she
It added to the catastrophe of the Durande will say to you, "What! rob my garden of its
this new wreck of seventy-five thousand francs. flowers, and now refuse one for my bonnet!"
It put him in possession of that amount just so Ah me! to have to condemn her to shabby
far as to make him sensible of its loss. The dresses. The family table is silent. You fancy
letter revealed to him the extreme point in his that those around it think harshly of you. Beruin.                                     loved faces have become clouded. This is what
Hence he experienced a new and very pain- is meant by falling fortunes. It is to die day
ful impression, which we have already spoken by day. To be struck down is like the blast
of. He began to take an interest in his house- of the furnace; to decay like this is the torture
hold-what it was to be in the future-how he of the slow fire.
was to set things in order; matters of which he  An overwhelming blow is a sort of Waterloo;
had taken no heed for two months past. These a slow decay, a St. Ielena. Destiny, incarnate
trifling cares wounded him with a thousand tiny in the form of Wellington, has still some digpoints, worse in their aggregate than the old de- nity; but how sordid in the shape of Hudson
spair. A sorrow is doubly burdensome which Lowe. Fate becomes then a paltry huckster.
has to be endured in each item, and while dis- We find the man of Campo Formio quarrelling
puting inch by inch with fate for ground al- about a pair of stockings; we see that dwarfing
ready lost. Ruin is endurable in the mass, but of Napoleon which makes England less. Wanot in the dust and fragments of the fallen edi- terloo and St. Helena! Reduced to humbler
fice. The great fact may overwhelm, but the proportions, every ruined man has traversed
details torture. The catastrophe which lately those two phases.
fell like a thunderbolt becomes now a cruel per-  On the evening we have mentioned, and
secution. Humiliation comes to aggravatee the which was one of the first evenings in May,
blow. A second desolation succeeds the first, Lethierry, leaving Deruchette to walk by moonwith features more repulsive. You descend one light in the garden, had gone to bed more dedegree nearer to annihilation. The winding- pressed than ever.
sheet becomes changed to sordid rags.       All these mean and repulsive details, peculiar
No thought is more bitter than that of one's to worldly misfortune; all these trifling cares,
own gradual fall from a social position.  which are at first insipid, and afterwards harRuin is simple enough. A violent shock; a assing, were revolving in his mind. A sullen
cruel turn of fate; a catastrophe once for all. load of miseries! Mess Lethierry felt-that his
Be it so. We submit, and all is over. You fall was -irremediable.  What could he do?
are ruined: it is well; you are dead?  No; What would become of them? What sacrifices
you are still living. On the morrow you know  should he be compelled to impose on Deruit well. By what?  By the pricking of a pin. chette?  Whom should he discharge-Douce
Yonder passer-by omits to recognise you; the or Grace? Would they have to sell the Bratradesmen's bills rain down upon you; and vees? Would they not be compelled to leave
yonder is one of your enemies, who is smiling. the island? To be nothing where he had been
Perhaps he is thinking of Arnal's last pun; but everything; it was a terrible fall indeed.
it is all the same. The pun would not have  And to know that the old times were gone
appeared to him so inimitable but for your ruin. for ever! To recall those journeys to and fro,
You read your own sudden insignificance even uniting France with those numberless islands;
in looks of indifference. Friends who used to the Tuesday's departure, the Friday's return,
dine at your table become of opinion that three the crowd on the quay, those great cargoes, that
courses were an extravagance. Your faults are industry, that prosperity, that proud direct navipatent to the eyes of everybody; ingratitude, gation, that. machinery embodying the will of
having nothing more to expect, proclaims itself man, that all-powerful boiler, that smoke, all
openly; every idiot has foreseen your misfor- that reality! The steam-boat had been the final
tunes. The malignant pull you to pieces; the crown of the compass; the needle indicating the
more malignant profess to pity.  And.then direct track, the steam vessel following it. One
come a hundred paltry details. Nausea suc- proposing, the other executing. Whete was she
ceeds to grief. You have been wont to indulge now, his Durande, that mistress of the seas, that
in wine; you must now drink cider. Two serv- queen who had made him a king? To have
ants, too! Why, one will be too many. It will been so long the man of ideas in his own counbe necessary to discharge this one, and get rid try, the man of success, the man who revolutionof that. Flowers in your garden are superflu- ized navigation, and then to have to give up
ous; you will plant it with potatoes. You used all, to abdicate! To cease to exist, to become
to make presents of your fruits to friends; you a by-word, an empty bag which once was full.
will send them henceforth to market. As to To-belong to the past, after having so long repthe poor, it will be absurd to think of giving resented the future. To coqne down to be an




138                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
object of pity to fools, to witness the triumph wall of the house, and were level with the
of routine, obstinacy, conservatism, selfishness, quay.
ignorance. To see the old barbarous sailing  There was no one aboard.
cutters crawling to and fro upon the sea; the.The vessel was of a peculiar shape. All
outworn Old-world prejudices young again; to Guernsey would have recognised it. It was
have wasted a whole life; to have been a light, the old Dutch sloop.
and to suffer this eclipse. Ah! what a sight it-  Lethierry jumped aboard; he ran forward to
was upon the waves, that noble funnel, that pro- the block which he saw beyond the mast.
digious cylinder, that pillar with its capital of  It Was there, entire, complete, intact, standing
smoke, that column grander than any in the square and firm upon its cast-iron flooring; the
Place Vendome, for on that there was only a boiler had all its rivets, the axle of the paddle-.man, while on this stood Progress. The ocean wheels was raised erect, and made fast near the
was beneath it; it was certainty upon the open boiler; the feed-pump was in its place; nothing
sea. And had all this been witnessed in that was wanting.
little island, in that little harbour, in that little  Lethierry examined the machinery.
town of St. Sampson? Yes, it had been wit-   The lantern and the moon helped him in his
nessed. And could it be, that having seen it, examination. He went over every part of the
all had vanished to be seen no more?     mechanism.
All this series of regrets tortured Lethierry.  He noticed the two cases at the sides. He
There is such a thing as a mental sobbing. examined the axle of the wheels.
Never, perhaps, had he felt his misfortune more  He went into the little cabin; it was empty.
bitterly. A certain numbness follows this acute  He returned to the engine, and felt it, looked
suffering. Under the weight of his sorrow he into the boiler, and knelt down to examine it
gradually dozed.                          inside.
For about two hours he remained in this   He placed his lantern within the furnace,
state, feverish, sleeping a little, meditating where the light, illuminating all the machinery,
much.   Such torpors are accompanied by an produced almost the illusion of an engine-room
obscure labour of the brain, which is inexpres- with its fire.
sibly wearying. Towards the middle of the   Then he burst into a wild laugh, sprang to
night, about midnight, a little before or a little his feet, and with his eye fixed on the engine,
after, he shook off this lethargy. He aroused, and his arms outstretched towards the funnel,
and opened his eyes. His window was directly he cried aloud, "Help!"
in front of his hammock. He saw something   The harbour-bell was upon the quay, at a few
extraordinary.                            paces distance. He ran to it, seized the chain,
A form was before the window —a marvellous and began to pull it violently.
form. It was the funnel of a steam vessel.
Mess Lethierry started, and sat upright in his         -     -
bed. The hammock oscillated like a swing in a                 II
tempest. Lethierry stared. A vision filled the
window-frame. There was the harbour flooded        THE HARBOUR BELL AGAIN.
with the light of the moon, and against that  GILLIATT, in fact, after a passage without acglitter, quite close to his house, stood forth, tall, cident, but somewhat slow on account of the
round, and black, a magnificent object.   heavy burden of the sloop, had arrived at St.
The funnel of a steam vessel was there.  Sampson after dark, and nearer ten than nine
Lethierry sprang out of his hammock, ran to o'clock.
the window, lifted the sash, leaned out, and rec-  He had calculated the time. The half flood
ognised it.                               had arrived. There was plenty of water, and
The funnel of the Durande stood before him. the moon was shining, so that he was able to
It was in the old place.                enter the port.
Its four chains supported it, made fast to the  The little harbour was silent. A few vessels
bulwarks of a vessel in which, beneath the fun- were moored there, with their sails brailed up to
nel, he could distinguish a dark mass of irregu- the yards, their tops over, and without lanterns.
lar outline.                              At the far end a few others were visible, high
Lethierry recoiled, turned his back to the and dry in the careenage, where they were unwindow, and dropped in a sitting posture into dergoing repairs; large hulls dismasted and
his hammock again.                        stripped, with their planking open at various
Then he returned, and once more he saw the parts, lifting high the ends of their timbers, and
vision.                                   looking like huge dead beetles lying on their
An instant afterwards, or in about the time backs with their legs in the air.
occupied by.a flash of lightning, he was out  As soon as he had cleared the harbour mouth,
upon the quay, with a lantern in his hand.  Gilliatt examined the port and the quay. There
A bark carrying a little backward a massive was no light to be seen either at the Bravees or
block from which issued the straight funnel be- elsewhere. The place was deserted save, perfore the window of the Bravees, was made fast haps, by some one going.to or returning from
to the mooring-ring of the Durande. The bows the parsonage-house; nor was it possible to be
of the bark stretched beyond the corner of the sure even of this, for the night blurred every




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               139
outline, and the moonlight always gives to ob- familiarities which the fancy may indulge in;
jects a vague appearance. The distance added the notion of how much was feminine in that
to the indistinctness. The parsonage-house at angelic being disturbed his thoughts. The darkthat period was situated on the other side of the ness of night emboldens timid imaginations to
harbour, where there stands at the present day take these furtive glances. He was vexed
an open mast-house.                       within himself, feeling on reflection as if it were
Gilliatt had approached the Bravees quietly, profanity to think of her so boldly; yet still conand had made the sloop fast to the ring of the strained, in spite of himself, he tremblingly gazed
Durande, under Mess Lethierry's window.   into the invisible. He shuddered almost with
He leaped over the bulwarks, and was ashore. a sense of pain as he imagined her room-a petLeaving the sloop behind him by the quay, he ticoat on a chair, a mantle fallen on the carpet,
turned the angle of the house, passed along a a band unbuckled, a handkerchief. He imaglittle narrow street, then along another, did not ined her corset with its lace hanging to the
even notice the pathway which branched off ground, her stockings, her boots. His soul was
leading to the Bu de la Rue, and in a few min- among the stars.
utes found himself at that corner of the wall  The stars are made for the human heart of a
where there were wild mallows with pink flow- poor man like Gilliatt not less than for that of
ers in June, with holly, ivy, and nettles. Many the rich and great. There is a certain degree of
a time concealed behind the bushes, seated on a passion by which every man becomes wrapped
stone, in the summer days, he had watched here in a celestial light. With a rough and primithrough long hours, even for whole months, oft- tive nature, this truth is even more applicable.
en tempted to climb the wall, over which he An uncultivated mind is easily touched with
contemplated the garden of the Bravees and the dreams.
two windows of a little room seen through the  Delight is a fullness which overflows like any
branches' of the trees. The stone was there other. To see those windows was almost too
still; the bushes, the low wall, the angle, as much happiness for Gilliatt.
quiet and dark as ever. Like an animal re-   Suddenly he looked and saw her.
turning to its hole, gliding rather than walking,. Froi the branches of a clump of bushes, alhe made his way in. Once seated there, he ready thickened by the spring, there issued with
made no movement. He looked around; saw    a spectral slowness a celestial figure, a dress, a
again the garden, the. pathways, the beds of divine face, almost a shining light beneath the
flowers, the house, the two windows of the moon.
chamber. The moonlight fell upon this dream.  Gilliatt felt his powers failing him: it was
He felt it horrible to be compelled to breathe, Deruchette.
and did what he could to prevent it.         Deruchette approached. She stopped. She
He seemed to be gazing on a vision of para- walked baok a few paces, stopped again; then
dise, and was afraid that all would vanish. It returned and sat upon the wooden bench. The
was almost impossible that all these things could moon was in the trees, a few clouds floated
be really before his eyes; and if they were, it among the pale stars; the sea murmured to the
could only be with that imminent danger ok shadows in an under tone, the town was sleepmelting into air which belongs to things divine. ing, a thin haze was rising from the horizon,
A breath, and all must be dissipated. He trem- the melancholy was profound. Deruchette inbled with the thought.                    clined her head, with those thoughtful- eyes
Before him, not far off, at the side of one of which look attentive yet see nothing. She was
the alleys in the garden, was a wooden seat seated sideways, and had nothing on her head
painted green. The reader will remember this but a little cap untied, which showed upon her
seat.                                     delicate neck the commencement of her hair.
Gilliatt looked up at the two windows. He She twirled-mechanically a ribbon of her cap
thought of the slumber of some one possibly in around one of her fingers; the half light showthat room. Behind that wall she was no doubt ed the outline of her hands like those of a statsleeping. He wished himself elsewhere, yet ue; her dress was one of those shades which
would sooner have died than go away. He by night look white: the trees stirred as if they
thought of a gentle breathing moving a sleeping felt the enchantment which she shed around her.
figure. It was she, that vision, that purity in The tip of one of her feet was visible. Her
the clouds, that form haunting him by day and lowered'eyelids had that vague contraction which
night.  She was there! He thought of her so suggests a tear checked in its course, or a thought
far removed, and yet so near as to be almost suppressed. There was a charming indecision
within reach of his delight; he thought of that in the movements of her arms, which had no
impossible ideal drooping in slumber, and like support to lean on; a sort of floating mingled
himself, too, visited by visions; of that being with every posture. It was rather a gleam than
so long desired, so distant, so impalpable-her a light-rather a grace than a goddess; the
closed eyelids, her face resting on her hand; of folds of her dress were exquisite; her face,
the mystery of sleep in its relations with that which might inspire adoration, seemed meditapure spirit, of what dreams might come to one tive, like portraits of the Virgin. It was terriwho was herself a dream. He dared not think ble to think how near she was; Gilliatt could
beyond, and yet he did. He ventured on those hear her breathe.




140                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
A nightingale was singing in the distance.  He looked at Deruchette.
The stirring of the wind among the branches  She was quite pale; her mouth was partly
set in movement the inexpressible silence of the open, as with a suppressed cry of surprise. She
night. Deruchette, beautiful, divine; appeared had just half risen from the bench, and sunk
in the twilight like a creation from those rays again upon it. There was in her attitude a
and from the perfumes in the air. That wide- mixture of fascination with a desire to fly. Her
spread enchantment seemed to concentre and surprise' was enchantment mingled with timidembody itself mysteriously in her; she became ity.  She had upon her lips almost the light of
its living manifestation. She seemed the spir- a smile, with the fullness of tears in her eyes.
itual flower of all that shadow and silence.  She seemed as if transfigured by that presence;
But the shadow and silence which floated as if the being that she saw before her belonged
lightly about her weighed heavily on Gilliatt. not to this earth. The reflection of an angel
He was bewildered; what he experienced is not was in her"look.
to be told in words. Emotion is always new,  The stranger, who was to Gilliatt only a
and the word is always enough. Hence the shadow, spoke. A voice issued from the'trees,
impossibility of expressing emotion. Joy is softer than the voice of a woman, and yet it
sometimes overwhelming. To see Ddruchette, was the voice of a man. Gilliatt heard these
to see her herself, to see her dress, her cap, her words:
ribbon, which she twined around her finger, was  I see you, mademoiselle, every Sunday and
it possible to imagine it?  Was it possible to every Thursday. They tell me that once you
be thus near her; to hear her breathe? She used not to come so often. It is a remark that
breathed! then the stars might breathe also. has been made. -I ask your pardon. I have
Gilliatt felt a thrill through him. He was the never spoken to you-; it -was my duty; but I
most miserable and yet the happiest of men. come to speak to you to-day, for it is still my
He knew not what to do. His delirious joy at duty. It is right that I speakt to you first.
seeing her annihilated him. Was it indeed De- The'Cashmere' sails to-morrow. This is why
ruchette there, and he so near? His thoughts, I have come. You walk every evening in your
bewildered and yet fixed, were fascinated'by that garden. It would be wrong of me to know
figure as by a dazzling jewel. He gazed upon your habits so well, if I had not the thought
her neck-her hair. He did not even say to that I have. Mademoiselle, you are poor; since
himself that all that would now belong to him; this morning I am rich. Will you have me for
that before long-to-morrow, perhaps-he would your husband?"
have the right to take off that cap, to unknot  Deruchette joined her two hands in a supplithat ribbon. He would not have conceived for ant attitude, and looked at the speaker, silent,
a moment the audacity of thinking even so far. with fixed eyes, and trembling from head to foot.
Touching in idea is almost like touching with  The voice continued:
the hand.., Love was with Gilliatt like honey to  "I love you. God made not the heart of
the bear. He thought confusedly; he knew not man to be silent. He has promised him eterniwhat possessed him. The nightingale still sang. ty with the intention that he should not be
IIe felt as if about to breathe his life out.  alone. There is for me but one woman upon
The idea of rising, ofjumping over the wall, earth. It is you. I think of you as of a prayof speaking to Deruchette, never came into his er. My faith is in God, and my hope in you.
mind. If it had, he would have turned and What wings I have you bear. You are my life,
fled. If anything resembling a thought had and already my supreme happiness."
begun to dawn in his mind, it was this: that  "Sir," said Deruchette, " there is no one to
Deruchette was there, that he wanted nothing answer in the house!"
more, and that eternity had begun.          The voice rose again:
A noise aroused them both-her from her     "Yes, I have encouraged that dream. Heavreverie, him from his ecstasy.            en has not forbidden us to dream. You are
Some one was walking in the garden. It like a glory in my eyes. I love you deeply,
was not possible to see who was approaching on mademoiselle. To me you are holy innocence.
account of the trees. It was the footstep of a I know it is the hour at which your household
man.                                      have retired to rest, but I had no choice of any
Deruchette raised her eyes.             other moment. Do you remember that passage
The steps drew nearer, then ceased. The of the Bible which some one read before us; it
person walking had stopped. He must have was the twenty-fifth chapter of Genesis. I have
been quite near. The path beside which was thought of it often since. M. Herode said to
the bench wound between two clumps of trees. me, you must have a rich wife. I replied no, I
The stranger was there in the alley between the must have a poor wife. I speak to you, madetrees, at a few paces from the seat.      moiselle, without venturing to approach you; I
Accident had so placed the branches that De- would step even further back if it was your wish
ruchette could see the new-comer, while Gilliatt that my shadow should not touch your feet.
could not.                                You alone are supreme. You will come to me
The moon cast on the ground beyond the if such is your will. I love and wait. You are
trees a shadow which reached to the garden seat. the living form of a benediction."
Gilliatt could see this shadow.             I did not know, sir," stammered Deruchette,




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                141
"that any one remarked me on Sunday-s and night seems to listen to the beating of Nature's
Thursdays."                                heart. In the midst of that retirement, like a
The voice continued:                     harmony making the silence more complete,
"We are powerless against celestial things. rose the wide murmur of the sea.
The whole Law is love. Marriage is Canaan;   The voice was heard again:
you are to me the promised land of beauty."   "Mademoiselle!"
Deruchette replied, "I did not think I did  Deruchette started.
wrong any more than other persons who are    Again the voice spoke.
strict."                                      "You are silent."
The voice continued:                       "What would you have me say?"
"God manifests his will in the flowers, in the  "I wait for your reply."
light of dawn, in the spring; and love is of his  "God has heard it," said Deruchette.
ordaining. You are beautiful in this holy shad-  Then the voice became almost sonorous, and;ow of night.  This garden has been tended by at the same time softer than before, and these
you; in its perfumes there is something of your words issued from the leaves as from a burning
breath. The affinities of our souls do not de- bush:
pend on us. They cannot be counted with our   "You are my betrothed. Come then to me.
sins. You were there, that was all. I was Let the blue sky, with all its stars, be witness
there, that was all. I did nothing but feel that of this taking of my soul to thine, and let our
I loved you.  Sometimes my eyes rested upon first emnbrace be mingled with that firmament."
you. I was wrong, but what could I do?  It   Deruchette arose and remained an instant
was through looking at you that all happened. motionless, looking stiaight before her, doubtI could not restrain my gaze. There are mys- less in another's eyes. Then, with slow steps,
terious impulses which are above- our search. with head erect, her arms drooping, but with
The heart is the chief of all temples.  To have the fingers of her hands wide apart, like one
your spirit in my house-this is the terrestrial who leans on some unseen support, she adparadise for which I hope.  Say, will you be vanced towards the trees, and was out of sight.
mine? As long as I was poor, I spoke not. I  A moment afterwards, instead of the one
know your age. You are twenty-one; I am    shadow upon the trravelled walk, there were
twenty-six. I go to-morrow; if you refuse me two. They mingled together. Gilliatt saw at
I return no more. Oh, be my betrothed; will his feet the embrace of those two shadows.
you not?  More than once have my eyes, in    In certain moments of crisis, time flows from
spite of myself, addressed to you that question. us as his sands from the hour-glass, and we
I love you; answer me. I will speak to your have no feeling of his flight. That pair on the
uncle as soon as he is able to receive me; but I one hand, who were ignorant of the presence of
turn first to you. To Rebecca I plead for Re-a witness, and saw him not; on the other, that
becca, unless you love me not."            witness of their joy, who could not see them,
Deruchette hung her head, and murmured,  but who knew of their presence —how many
"Oh! I worship him."                     minutes did they remain thus in that mysteriThe words were spoken in a voice so low  ous suspension of themselves?  It would be imthat only Gilliatt heard them.             possible to say.  Suddenly a noise burst forth
She remained with her head lowered as if at a distance. A  voice was heard crying
by shading her face she hoped to conceal her "Help!" and the harbour bell began to sound.
thoughts.                                  It is probable that those celestial transports of
There was a pause. No leaf among the trees delight heard no echo of that tumult.
was stirred. It was that solemn and peaceful  The bell continued to ring. Any one who
moment when the slumber of external things had sought Gilliatt then in the angle of the
mingles with the sleep of living creatures, and wall would have found him no longer there.




142                       THE. TOILERS OF THE SEA.
BOOK II.
GRATITUDE AND DESPOTISM.
- I.                   ed branch of a tree for a plough, and a bundle
of thorn-bushes for a harrow, dragged by a
JOY SUPRtROUNDED BY TORTUTRES.      leathern strap; they get harvests of wheat that
MEss LETHIERRY pulled the bell furiously, way, with grains as big as hedgenuts.  But
then stopped abruptly. A man had just turned that is a trifle compared with your feats. You
the corner of the quay. It was Gilliatt.  have performed a miracle-a real one. Ah!
Lethierry ran towards him, or rather flung gredin! let me hug you. How they will gossip
himself upon him; seized his hand between his in St. Sampson! I shall set to work at once
own, and looked him in the face for a moment to build the boat.  It is astonishing that the
silent. It was that silence which-precedes an crank is all right.'Gentlemen, he has been to
explosion struggling to find an issue.    the Douvres'-I say to the Douvres.'He went
Then pulling and shaking him with violence, alone.' The Douvres! I defy you to find a
and squeezing him in his arms, he compelled worse spot. Do you know-have they told you
him to enter the lower ioom of the Bravees, -that it's proved that Clubin sent the Durande
pushed back with his heel the door which had to the bottom  to swindle me out of money
remained half opened, sat down or sank into a which he had to bring me? He made Tanchair beside a great table lighted by the moon, grouille drunk. It's a long story. I'll tell you
the reflection of which gave a vague pallor to another day of his piratical tricks. I, stupid
Gilliatt's face, and, with a voice of intermingled idiot, had confidence in Clubin. But he trapped
laughter and tears, cried,                himself, the villain! for he couldn't have got
Ah! my son-my player of the bagpipe! away. There is a God above, scoundrel! Do
I knew well that it was you. The sloop, par- you see, Gilliatt, bang! bang! the irons in
bleu!  Tell me the story.  You went there, the fire.  We'll begin at once to rebuild the
then?   Why, they would have burnt you. a Durande. We'll have her twenty feet longer.
hundred years ago! It is magic! There isn't They build them longer now than they did.
a screw missing. I have looked at everything I'll buy the wood from Dantzic and Breme.
already, recognised everything, handled every- Now I've got the machinery, they will give
thing. I guessed that the paddles were in the me credit again.  They'll have confidence
two cases. And here you are once more! I now."
have been looking for you in the little cabin.  Mess Lethierry stopped, lifted his eyes with
I rang the bell.  I was seeking for you.  I that look which sees the heavens through the
said to myself,'Where is he, that I may de- roof, and muttered, "Yes, there is a power on
vour him?'   You must admit that wonder- high!"
ful things do come to pass. He has brought  Then he placed the middle finger of his right
back life to me.  Tonnerre! you are an angel! hand between his two eyebrows, and tapped
Yes, yes, it is my engine.  Nobody will be- with his nail there, an action which indicates a
lieve it; people will see it, and say,'It can't project passing through the mind, and he conbe true.' Not a tap, not a pin missing.  The tinned:
feed-pipe has never budged an inch. It is in-  "Nevertheless, to begin again, on a grand
credible that there should have been no more scale, a little ready money would have been
damage. We have only to put a little oil. But useful.  Ah! if I only had my three bankhow did you accomplish it?  To think that notes-the seventy-five thousand francs that
the Durande will be moving again. The axle that robber Rantaine returned, and that vagaof the wheels must have been taken to pieces bond Clubin stole."
by some watchmaker.   Give me your word     Gilliatt silently felt in his pocket, and drew
that I am not crazy."                     out something which he placed before him. It
He sprang to his feet, breathed a moment, was the leathern belt that he had brought back.
and continued:                            He opened, and spread it out upon the table; in
"Assure me of that. What a revolution! the inside the word "Clubin" could be deciI pinched myself to be certain I was not dream- phered in the light of the moon. He then took
ing. You are my child, you are my son, you out of the pocket of the belt a box, and out of
are my Providence. Ah! my lad-to go and the box three pieces of paper, which he unfoldfetch my good old engine. In the open sea, ed and offered to Lethierry.
among those cut-throat rocks. I have seen   Lethierry examined them.   It was light
some strange things in my life; nothing like enough to read the figures "1000," and the
that. I have known Parisians who were veri- word "thousand" was also perfectly visible.
table demons, but I'll defy them to have done Mess Lethierry took the three notes, placed
that. It beats the Bastille.  I have seen the them on the table one beside the other, looked
gauchos labouring in the Pampas with a crook- at them, looked at Gilliatt, stood for a moment




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               143
dumb, and then began again, like an eruption themselves without reasons. But I have wool
after an explosion:                       in my ears; perhaps I didn't understand. Re"These too! You are a marvel. My bank- peat to me what you said."
notes! all three.  A thousand pounds each.   Gilliatt replied,
My seventy-five thousand francs. Why, you    "I said No!"
must have gone down to the infernal regions.  "You said No. He holds to it, the lunatic!
It is Clubin's belt. Pardieu! I can read his You must be crazy. You said No. Here's a
vile name. Gilliatt has brought back engine stupidity beyond anything ever heard of. Why,
and money too. There will be something to people have had their heads shaven for much
put in the papers. I will buy some timber of less than that. What! you don't like Deruthe finest quality. I guess how it was; you chette?  Oh, then, it was out of affection for
found his carcass-Clubin mouldering away in the old man that you did all these things? It
some corner. We'll have some Dantzic pine was for the sake of papa that you went to the
and Breme oak; we'll have a first-rate plank- Douvres, that you endured cold and heat, and
ing-oak within, and pine without. In old was half dead with hunger and thirst, and ate
times they didn't build so well, but their work the limpets off the rocks, and had the fog, the
lasted longer; the wood was better seasoned, rain, and the wind for your bedroom, and
because they did not build so much. We'll brought me back my machine, just as you might
build the hull perhaps of elm. Elm is good bring a pretty woman her little canary that had
for the parts in the water. To be dry some- escaped from its cage. And the tempest that
times, and sometimes wet, rots the timbers; we had three days ago! Do you think I don't
the elm requires to be always wet; it's a wood bear it in mind? You must have had a time
that feeds upon water. What a splendid Du- of it! It was in the midst of all this misery,
rande we'll build. The lawyers will not trou- alongside of my old craft, that you shaped, and
ble me again. I shall want no more credit. I cut, and turned, and twisted, and dragged about,
have some money of my own. Did ever any and filed, and sawed, and carpentered, and
one see a man like Gilliatt! I was struck down schemed, and performed more miracles there
to the ground; I was a dead man. He comes by yourself than all- the saints in paradise.
and sets me up again as firm as ever. And all Ah! you annoyed me enough once with your
the while I was never thinking about him. He bagpipe. They call it a biniou in Brittany.
had gone clean out of my mind; but I recol- Always the same tune too, silly fellow. And'
lect everything now. Poor lad! Ah! by the yet you don't love Deruchette? I don't know
way, you know you are to marry Deruchette."  what is the matter with you. I recollect it all
Gilliatt leaned with his back against the wall now. I was there in the corner; Deruchette
like one who staggers, and said, in a tone very said,'He shall be my husband;' and so you
low, but distinct,                        shall. You don't love her! Either you must
"No."                                   be mad, or else I am mad. And you stand
Mess Lethierry started.                 there, and speak not a word. I tell you you
"<How, no!"                            are not at liberty to do all the things you have
Gilliatt replied,                       done, and then say, after all,'I don't love De-:I do not love her."                    ruchette.' People don't do others services in
Mess Lethierry went to the window, opened order to put'them in a passion. Well, if you
and reclosed it, took the three bank-notes, fold- don't marry her, she shall be single all her life.
ed them, placed the iron box on top, scratched In the first place, I shall want you. You must
his head, seized Clubin's belt, flung it violently be the pilot of the Durande. Do you imagine
against the wall,. and exclaimed,         I mean to part with you like that?  No, no,
"You must be mad."                      my brave boy, I don't let you go. I have got
He thrust his fists into hisl pockets, and ex- you now; I'll not even listen to you.'Where
claimed,                                  will they find a sailor like you? You are the
"You don't love Deruchette? What! was man I want. - But why don't you speak?"
it at me, then, that you used to play the bag-  Meanwhile the harbour bell had aroused the
pipe?"                                   household and the neighbourhood. Douce and
Gilliatt, still supporting himself by the wall, Grace had risen, and had just entered the lower
turned pale, as a man near his end. As he be- room, silent and astonished.  Grace had a cancame pale, Lethierry became redder.       dle in her hand. A group of neighbours, towns"There's an idiot for you! He doesn't love people, sailors, and peasants, who had rushed
Deruchette. Very good; make up your mind out of their houses, were outside on the quay,
to love her, for she shall never marry any but gazing in wonderment at the funnel of the Duyou. A devilish pretty story that; and you rande in the sloop. Some, hearing Lethierry's
think that I believe you. If there is anything voice in the lower room, began to glide in by
really the matter with you, send for a doctor, the half-opened door. Between the faces. of
but don't talk nonsense. You can't have had two worthy old women appeared that of Sieur
time to quarrel, or get out of temper with her. Landoys, who had the good fortune always to
It is true that lovers are great fools sometimes. find himself where he would have regretted to
Come, now, what are your reasons? If you have been absent.
have any, say. People don't make geese of    Men feel a satisfaction in having witnesses




144                       THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
of their joys. The sort of scattered support sovereigns from me to the constable of St. Sampwhich a crowd presents pleases them at such son. You recollect Rantaine's letter? I showtimes; their delight draws new life from it. ed it to you. Very well; I've got the bankMess Lethierry suddenly perceived that there notes. Now we can buy some oak and fir, and
w-ere persons about him, and he welcomed the go to work at carpentering. Look you! Do
audience at once.                         you remember the weather of three days ago?
"Ah! you are here, my friends. I am very What a hurricane of wind and rain! Gilliatt
glad to see you. You know the news? That endured all that upon the Douvres. That didn't
man has been there, and brought it back. How prevent his taking the wreck to pieces, as I
d'ye do, Sieur Landoys? When I woke up just might take my watch. Thanks to him, I am
now, the first thing I spied was the funnel. It on my legs again.  Old'Lethierry's galley' is
was under my window. There's not a nail going to run again, ladies and gentlemen. A
missing. They make pictures of Napoleon's nut-shell with a couple of wheels and a funnel.
deeds, but I think more of that than of the I always had that idea. I used to say to mybattle of Austerlitz. You have just left your self, one day I will do it. That was a good
beds, my good friends. The Durande has found long time back. It was an idea that came in
you sleeping. While you are putting on your my head at Paris, at the coffee-house at the cornight-caps and blowing out your candles, there ner of the Rue Christine and the Rue Dauare others working like heroes. We are a set phine, when I was reading a paper which had
of cowards and donothings; we sit at home rub- an account of it. Do you know that Gilliatt
bing our rheumatisms; but happily that does would think nothing of putting the machine at
not prevent there being some of another stamp. Marly in his pocket, and walking about with it?
The man of the Bf de la Rue has arrived from  He is wrought iron, that man; tempered steel,
the Douvres rocks. He has fished up the Du- a mariner of invaluable qualities, an excellent
rande from the bottom of the sea, and fished smith, an extraordinary fellow, more astonishup my money out of Clubin's pocket from a ing than the Prince of Hohenlohe. That is
greater depth still. But how did you contrive what I call a man with brains. We are chilto do it?  All the powers of darkness were dren by the side of him. Sea-wolves we may
against you-the wind and the sea-the sea think ourselves, but the sea-lion is there. Hurand the wind. It's true enough that you are a rah for Gilliatt! I do not know how he has
sorcerer. Those who say that are not so stu- done it, but certainly he must have been the
pid after all. The Durande is back again. devil, and how can I do other than give him
The tempests may rage now; that cuts the Deruchette?"
ground from under them. My friends, I can   For some minutes Deruchette had been in
inform you that there was no shipwreck after the long room. She had not spoken or moved
all. I have examined all the machinery. It since she entered.  She had glided in like a
is like new, perfect. The valves go as easily as shadow, had sat down almost unperceived berollers. You would think them made yester- hind Mess Lethierry, who stood before her, loday. You know that the waste water is carried quacious, stormy, joyful, abounding in gestures,
away by a tube inside another tube, through and talking in a loud voice. A little while aftwhich comes the water for the boilers; this was er her another silent apparition had appeared.
to economize the heat. Well, the two tubes are A man attired in black, with a white cravat,
there as good as ever. The complete engine, holding his hat in his hand, stood in the doorin fact. She is all there, her wheels and all. way. There were now several candles among
Ah! you shall marry her."                 the group, which had gradually.increased in
"Marry the complete engine?" asked Sieur number. These lights were near the man atLandoys.                                  tired irr black. His profile and youthful and
"No-Derhuchette; yes-the engine. Both pleasing complexion showed itself against the
of them. He shall be my double son-in-law. dark background with the clearness of an enHe shall be her captain. Good-day, Captain graving on a medal. He leaned with his shoulGilliatt; for there will soon be a captain of the der against the framework of the door, and held
Durande. We are going to do a world of busi- his left hand to his forehead, an attitude of unness again. There will be trade, circulation, conscious grace, which contrasted the breadth
cargoes of oxen and sheep. I wouldn't give St. of his forehead with the smallness of his hand.
Sampson for London now. And there stands There was an expression of anguish in his conthe author of all this. It was a curious adven- tracted lips as he looked on and listened with
ture, I can tell you. You will read about it on profound attention.  The standers-by having
Saturday in old Mauger's' Gazette.' Malicious recognised M. Caudray, the rector of the parish,
Gilliatt is very malicious. What's the mean- had fallen back to allow him to pass; but he
ing of these Louis-d'ors here?"          remained upon the threshold. There was hesMess Lethierry had just observed, through itation in his posture, but decision in his looks,
the opening of the lid, that there was some gold which now and then met those of Deruchette.
in the box upon the notes. He seized it, open- With regard to Gilliatt, whether by chance or
ed and emptied it into the palm of his hand, design, he was in shadow, and was only perand put the handful of guineas on the table.  ceived indistinctly.
"For the poor, Sieur Landoys. Give those  At first Mess Lethierry did not observe Cau



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                              145
dray, but he saw Deruchette. He went to her  Grace ran to Deruchette and supported her
and kissed her fervently upon the forehead, head. She had fainted.
stretching forth his hand at the same time towards the dark corner where Gilliatt was standing.
"Deruchette," he said, "we are rich again,                II.
and there is your future husband."                      LEAT   N TN
*y^ ^  i. —  v. * -i * *THE LEATHERN TRUINK.
Deruchette raised her head, and looked into
the darkness bewildered.                    AT break of day St. Sampson was on foot, and
Mess Lethierry continued:               all the people of St. Peter's Port began to arrive
"The marriage shall take place immediately, there. The resurrection of the Durande caused
if it can; they shall have a license; the for- a commotion in the island not unlike what was
malities here are not very troublesome; the caused by the" Salette" in the south of France.
Dean can do what he pleases; people are mar- There was a crowd on the quay staring at the
ried before they have time to turn round. It is funnel standing erect in the sloop. They were
not as in France, where you must have bans, anxious to see and handle the machinery; but
and publications, and delays, and all that fuss. Lethierry, after making a new and triumphant
You will be able to boast of being the wife of survey of the whole by daylight, had placed two
a brave man, whom no one can say a word sailors aboard, with instructions to prevent any
against. I thought of him from the day when one approaching it. The funnel, however, fur- saw him come back from Herm with the little nished food enough for contemplation. The
cannon. But now he comes back from the crowd gaped with astonishment. They talked
Douvres with his fortune and mine, and the of nothing but Gilliatt. They remarked on his
fortune of this country-a man of whom the surname of "malicious Gilliatt," and their adworld will talk a great deal more one day. You miration wound up with the remark, "It is not
said once,'I will marry him;' and you shall pleasant to have people in the island who can
marry him, and you shall have little children, do things like that."
-and I will be grandpapa; and you will. have the  Mess Lethierry was seen from outside the
good fortune to be the wife of a noble fellow, house, seated at a table before the window, writwho can work, who can be useful to his fellow- ing, with one eye on the paper and another on
men; a surprising fellow, worth a hundred oth- the sloop. He was so completely absorbed that
ers; a man who can rescue, other people's in- he had only once stopped to call Douce and ask
ventions- a providence! At all events, you after Deruchette. Douce replied, "Mademoiwill not have married, like so many other silly selle has risen and is gone out." Mess Lethiergirls about here, a soldier or a priest-that is, a ry replied, " She is right to take the air. She
man who kills or a man who lies. But what was a little unwell last night, owing to the heat.
are you doing there, Gilliatt? Nobody can see There was a crowd in the room. This and her
you. Douce, Grace, everybody there! Bring surprise and joy, and the windows being all
a light, I say. Light up my son-in-law for me. closed, overcame her. She will have a husband
I betroth you to each other, my children: here to be proud of." And he had gone on with his
stands your husband, here my son, Gilliatt of writing. He had already finished and sealed
the Bf de la Rue, that noble fellow, that great two letters, addressed to the most important
seaman; I will have no other son-in-law, and ship-builders at Breme. He now finished the
you no other husband. I pledge my word once sealing of a third.
more in God's name. Ah! you are there, Mon-  The noise of a wheel upon the quay induced
sieur the Cure. You will marry these young him to look up. He leaned out of the window,
people for us."                           and observed, coming from the path which led
Lethierry's eye had just fallen upon Caudray. to the Bu de la Rue, a boy pushing a wheelDouce and Grace had done as they were di- barrow. The boy was going towards St. Peter's
rected. Two candles placed upon the table cast Port. In the barrow was a portmanteau of
a light upon Gilliatt from head to foot.  brown leather, studded with nails of brass and
"There's a fine fellow," said Mess Lethierry. white metal.
Gilliatt's appearance was hideous.        Mess Lethierry called to the boy:
He was in the condition in which he had that  " Where are you going, my lad?"
morning set sail from the rocks-in rags, his  The boy stopped and replied,
bare elbows showing through his sleeves, his  "To the'Cashmere.'"
beard long, his hair rough and wild, his eyes  "What for?"
bloodshot, his skin peeling, his hands covered  "To take this trunk aboard."
with wounds, his feet naked. Some of the blis-  Very good; you shall take these three letters left by the devil-fish were still visible upon ters too."
his hairy arms.                             Mess Lethierry opened the drawer of his taLethierry gazed at him.                 ble, took a piece of string, tied the three letters
"This is my son-in-law," he said. "How he which he had just written across and across, and
has struggled with the sea! He is all in rags. threw the packet to the boy, who caught it beWhat shoulders! what hands! There's a splen- tween his hands.
did fellows!"                               "Tell the captain of the'Cashmere' they are
K




146                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
my letters, and to take care of them. They are on his way towards the town. Mess Lethierry
for Germany-Breme via London."             called " Douce! Grace!"
"I can't speak to the captain, Mess Le-    Grace opened the door a little way.
thierry."                                    "What is it, Mess?"
"Why not?"                                 "Come in and wait a moment."
"The'Cashmere'is not abreast of the quay."  Mess Lethierry took a sheet of paper and
"Ah!"                                    began to write. If Grace, standing behind him,
"She is in the roads."                   had been curious, and had leaned forward while
"Ay, true-on account of the sea."        he was writing, she might have read as follows:
"I can only speak to the man who takes the
thinI have written to Breme for the timber. I
tilings aboard."
"You will tell him, then, to look to the let- have appointment all the morning with carters."                                     penters for the estimate. The rebuilding will
"Very well, Mess Lethierry."             go on fast. You must go yourself to the Dean" At what time does the' Cashmere' sail?"  cry for a license.  It is my wish that the mar"At twelve."                           nriage should take place as soon as possible; im"The tide will flow at noon; she will have it mediately would be bette  I am bsy about
against her."                              the Durande. Do you be busy about Deruagainst her."
"But she will have the wind," answered thelad.chette
"Boy," said Mess Lethierry, pointing with  He dated it and signed "Lethierry."  He
his fore finger at the engine in the sloop, " do did not take the trouble to seal it, but merely
you see that? There is something which laughs folded it in four and handed it to Grace, saying,
at winds and tides."                         "Take that to Gilliatt."
The boy put the letters in his pocket, took  "To the Bu de la Rue?"
up the handles of the barrow again, and went  "To the Bu de la Rue."
BOOK III.
THE DEPARTURE OF THE " CASHMERE."
L.~~~~ a wedding-ring to "a sort of a man who appeared in a great hurry, and who asked for the
THE CREEK NETAR TEE CHUITCH.l        house of the Dean."  The shops which remainWHEN there is a crowd at St. Sampson, St. ed open were centres of gossip, where loiterers
Peter's Port is soon deserted. A point of curi- discussed the miraculous salvage. There was
osity at a given place is like an air-pump. News not a foot-passenger at the " Hyvreuse," which
travels fast in small places. Going to see the is known in these days, nobody knows why, as
funnel of the Durande under Mess Lethierry's Cambridge Park; no one in the High Street,
window had been, since sunrise, the business of then called the " Grande Rue;" nor in Smith
the Guernsey folks. Every other event was Street, known then only as the Rue des Forges;
eclipsed by this. The death of the Dean of St. nobody in Hauteville.  The Esplanade itself
Asaph was forgotten, together with the question was deserted.  One might have guessed it to be
of the Reverend Mr. Caudray, his sudden riches, Sunday. A visit from a royal personage to reand the departure of the "Cashmere."  The view the militia at the Ancresse could not have
machinery of the Durande brought back fiom  emptied the town more completely. All this
the Douvres rocks was the order of the day. hubbub about "a nobody" like Gilliatt caused
People were incredulous. The shipwreck had a good deal of shrugging of the shoulders among
appeared extraordinary, the salvage seemed im- persons of grave and correct habits.
possible. Everybody hastened to assure him-  The church of St. Peter's Port, with its three
self of the truth by the help of his own eyes. gable-ends placed side by side, its transept and
Business of every kind was suspended. Long its steeple, stands at the water's side at the end
strings of townsfolk with their families, from the of the harbour, and nearly on the landing-place
"Vesin" up to the "Mess," men and women, itself, where it welcomes those who arrive and
gentlemen, mothers with children, infants with gives'the departing " God speed." It repredolls, were coming by every road or pathway to sents the capital letter at the beginning of that
see "the thing to be seen" at the Bravees, turn- long line which' forms the front of the town toing their backs upon St. Peter's Port. Many wards the sea.
shops at St. Peter's Port were closed. In the  It is both the parish church of St. Peter's
Commercial Arcade there was an absolute stag- Port and the chief place of the Deanery of the
nation in buying and selling. The Durande whole island. Its officiating minister is the suralone obtained attention. Not a single shop- rogate of the bishop, a clergyman in full orders.
keeper had had a "handsell" that morning, ex-  The harbour of St. Peter's Port, a very fine
cept ajeweller, who was surprised at having sold and large port at the present day, was at that




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               147
epoch, and even up to ten years ago, less con- earth-work has been the rage, and taste has
siderable than the harbour of St. Sampson. It finally subdued the eccentricities of the cliff,
was enclosed by two enormous thick walls, be- and the irregularitiesof the rocks below.
ginning at the water's edge on both sides, and
curving till they almost joined again at the ex-          -
tremities, where there stood a little white lighthouse. Under this lighthouse, a narrow gullet,                II.
bearing still the two rings of the chain with
I)ESPAIR CONFRONTS DESPAIR.
which it was the custom to bar the passage in     DESPAIS            ESPAI
ancient times, formed the entrance for vessels.  IT was a little before ten o'clock in the mornThe harbour of St. Peter's Port might be well ing. The crowd at St. Sampson, according to
compared with the claw of a huge lobster opened all appearance, was incrensing. The multitude,
a little way. This kind of pincers took from feverish with curiosity, was moving towards the
the ocean a portion of the sea, which it corm north; and the Havelet, which is in the "south,
pelled to remain calm. But during the east- was more deserted than ever.
erly winds the waves rolled heavily against the  Notwithstanding this, there was a boat there
narrow entrance, the port Was agitated, and it and a boatman. In the boat was a travellingwas better not to enter. This is what had hap- bag. The boatman seemed to be expecting
pened with the " Cashmere" that day, which some one.
had accordingly anchored in the roads.       The " Cashmere" was visible at anchor in the
The vessels, too, during the easterly winds, roads, as she did not start till midday; there
preferred this course, which besides saved them  was as yet no sign of moving aboard.
the port dues.  On these occasions, the boat-  A passer-by, who had listened from one of
men of the town, a hardy race of mariners whom  the ladder-paths up the cliffs overhead, would
the new port has thrown out of employment, have heard a murmur of words in the Havelet,
came in their boats to fetch passengers at the and if he had leaned over the overhanging cliff
landing-place or at stations on the shore, and might have seen, at some distance from the
carried them with their luggage, often in heavy boat, in a corner among the rocks and branches,
seas, but always without accident, to the vessels where the eye of the boatman could not reach
about to sail.  The east wind blows off the them, a man and a woman. It was Caudray
shore, and is very favourable for the passage to and Deruchette.
England; the vessel at such times rolls, but does  These obscure nooks on the sea-shore, the
not pitch.                                 chosen places of lady bathers, are not always
When a vessel happened to be in the port, so solitary as is believed. Persons are someeverybody embarked fiom the quay. When it times observed and heard there. Those who
was in the roads they took their choice, and seek shelter and solitude in them may easily be
embarked from any point of the coast near the followed through the thick bushes, and, thanks
moorings.                                 to the multiplicity and entanglement of the
The "Havelet" was one of these creeks. paths, the granite and the shrubs which favour
This little harbour (which is the signification the stolen interview may also favour the witof the word) was near the town, but was so ness.
solitary that it seemed far off. This solitude  Caudray and Deruchette stood face to face,
was owing to the shelter of the high cliffs of looking into each other's eyes, and holding each
Fort St. George, which overlooked this retired other by the hand. Deruchette was speaking.
inlet. The "Havelet" was accessible by several Caudray was silent. A tear that had gatheredc
paths. The most direct was along the water's upon his eyelash hung there and did not fall.
side. It had the advantage of leading to the  Grief and strong passion were imprinted in
town and to the church in five minutes' walk, his calm, religious countenance. A painful resand the disadvantage of being covered by the ignation was there too-a resignation hostile to
sea twice a day. The other paths were more or faith, though springing from it.  Upon that
less abrupt, and led down to the creek through face, simply devout until then, there was the
gaps in the steep rocks. Even in broad day- commencement of a fatal expression. He who
light it was dusk in the Havelet. Huge blocks had hitherto meditated only on doctrine, had
overhanging it on all sides, and thick bushes and begun to meditate on Fate, an unhealthy medibrambles, cast a sort of soft twilight upon the tation for a priest. Faith dissolves under its
rocks and waves below. Nothing could be more action. Nothing disturbs the religious mind
peaceful than this spot in calm weather; noth- more than that bending under the weight of
ing more tumultuous during heavy seas. There the unknown. Life seems a perpetual succeswere ends of branches there which were always sion of events, to which man submits. We
wet with the foam. In the spring-time the never know from which direction the sudden
place was full of flowers, of nests, of perfumes, blow will come. Misery and happiness enter or
of birds, of butterflies, and bees. Thanks to re- make their exit like unexpected guests. Their
cent improvements, this wild nook no longer laws, their orbit, their principle of gravitation,
exists.  Fine, straight lines have taken the are beyond man's grasp. Virtue conducts not
place of these wild features; masonry, quays, to happiness, nor crime to retribution; conand little gardens have made their appearance; science has one logic, fate another; and neither




148                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
coincide. Nothing is foreseen. We live con-  Caudray replied,
fusedly, and from hand to mouth. Conscience  "You heard what was said last night?"
is the straight line, life is- the whirlwind, which  "Ah me!"
creates above man's head either black chaos or  "What can I do against that?"
the blue sky. Fate does not practice the art  They were silent for a moment.  Caudray
of transitions. Her wheel turns sometimes so continued:
fast that we can scarcely distinguish the interval  "There is but one duty left to me. It is to
between one revolution and another, or the.link fly."
between yesterday and to-day. Caudray was a  "And mine to die. Oh! how I wish there
believer whose faith did not exclude reason, and was no -sea, but only sky. It seems to me as
whose priestly training did not shut him out if that would settle all, and'that our-departure
from passion. Those religious systems which would be the same. It was wrong to speak to
impose celibacy on the priesthood are not with- me; why did you speak to me? Do not go.
out reason for it. Nothing really destroys the What will become of me? I tell you I shall
individuality of the priest more than love. All die. You will be far off when I shall be in my
sorts of clouds seemed to darken Caudray's grave. Oh! my heart will break. I am very
soul. He looked too long into Deruchette's wretched; yet my uncle is not unkind."
eyes. These two beings worshipped each other. / It was the first time in her life that DeruThere was in Caudray's eye the mute adora-? chette had ever said "my uncle."  Until then
tion of despair.                          she had always said "my father."
Deruchette spoke:                         Caudray stepped back, and made a sign to
"You must not leave me. I shall not have the boatman.  Deruchette heard the' sound of
strength. I thought I could bid you farewell. the boat-hook among the shingle, and -the step
I cannot. Why did you come yesterday? You of the man on the gunwale of the boat.
should not have come if you were going so soon.  "No! no!" cried Deruchette.
I never spoke to you. I loved you, but knew  "It must be, Deruchette," replied Caudray.
it not. Only that day, when M. Herode read  "No! never!   For the sake of an engineto us the story of Rebecca, and when your eyes impossible. Did you see that horrible man last
met mine, my cheeks were like fire, and I night? You cannot abandon me thus. You
thought only of how Rebecca's face must have are wise; you can find a means. It is impossiburnt like mine; and yet, if any one had told ble that you bade me come here this morning
me yesterday that I loved you, I might have with the idea of leaving me. I have never done
laughed at it. This is what is so terrible. It anything to deserve this; you can have no rehas been like a treason. I did not take heed. proach to make me. Is it by that vessel that
I went to the church, I saw you, I thought you intended to sail?  I will not let you go.
everybody there was like myself. I do not re- You shall not leave me. Heaven does not open
proach you; you did nothing to make me love thus to close so soon. I know you will remain.
you; you did nothing but look at me; it is not Besides, it is not yet time. Oh! how I love
your fault if you look at people; and yet that you!"
made me love you so much. I did not even    And pressing closely to him, she interlaced
suspect it. When you took up the book it was the fingers of each hand behind his neck, as if
a flood of light; when others took it, it was but partly to make a bond of her two arms for dea book. You raised your eyes sometimes; you taining him, and partly with her joined hands
spoke of archangels; oh! you were my arch- to pray. He moved away this gentle restraint,
angel. What you said penetrated my thoughts while Deruchette resisted as long as she could.
at once. Before then, I know not even whether  Deruchette sank upon a projection of the rock
I believed in God. Since I have known you, covered with ivy, lifting by an unconscious
I have learnt to pray. I used to say to Douce, movement the sleeve of her dress up to the eldress me quickly, lest I should be late at the bow, -and exhibiting her graceful arm. A pale
service; and I hastened to the church. Such suffused light was in her eyes. The boat was
it was with me to love some one. I did not approaching.
know the cause. I said to myself, how devout  Caudray held her head between his hands.
I am becoming. It is from you that I have He touched her hair with a sort of religious
learnt that I do not go to church for God's serv- care, fixed his eyes upon her for some moments,
ice. It is true; I went for your sake. You then kissed her on the forehead fervently, and
spoke so well, and when you raised your arms in an accent trembling with anguish, and in
to heaven, you seemed to hold my heart within which might have been traced the uprooting of
your two white hands. I was foolish, but I his soul, he uttered the word which has so often
did not know it. Shall I tell you your fault? resounded in the depths of the human heart,
It was your coming to me in the garden; it was "Farewell!"
your speaking to me. If you had said nothing,  Deruchette burst into loud sobs.
I should have known nothing. If you had gone,  At this moment they heard a voice near
I should, perhaps, have been sad, but now I them, which said solemnly and deliberately,
should die. Since I know that I love you, you  "Why should you not be man and wife?"
cannot leave me. Of what are you thinking?  Caudray raised his head. Deruchette looked
You do not seem to listen to me."        up.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               149
Gilliatt stood before them.               His resolution was corrupted by the sudden
He had approached by a by-path.         and happy turn in his ideas. The probable
He was no longer the same man that he had scruples of the clergyman melted, and dissolved
appeared on the previous night. He had ar- in his heart's love for Deruchette.
ranged his hair, shaved his beard, put on shoes  Gilliatt's tone became abrupt and harsh, and
and a white shirt, with a large collar turned like the pulsations of fever.
over sailor fashion. He wore a sailor's cos-  "There must be no delay," he said. "You
tume, but all was new. A gold ring was on his have time, but that is all. Come."
little finger. He seemed profoundly calm. His  Caudray observed him attentively, and sudsunburnt skin had become pale; a line of sick- denly exclaimed,
ly bronze overspread it.                     "I resognise you.  It was you who saved
They looked at him astonished. Though so my life."
changed, Deruchette recognised him. But the  GiIliatt replied,
words which he had spoken were so far from   "I think not."
what was passing in their minds at that moment,  "Yonder," said Caudray," at the extremity
that they had left no distinct impression.  of the Banques."
Gilliatt spoke again:                      "I do not know the place," said Gilliatt.
"Why should you say farewell? Make your-  "It was on the very day that I arrived here."
selves man and wife, and go together."       "Let us lose no time," interrupted Gilliatt.
Deruchette started. A trembling seized her  "And if I am not deceived, you are the man
from head to foot.                         whom we met last night."
Gilliatt continued:                        "Perhaps."
"Miss Lethierry is a woman. She is of age. " What is your name?"
It depends only on herself. Her uncle is but  Gilliatt raised his voice,
her uncle. You love each other-"             "Boatman! wait there for us. We shall reDeruchette interrupted in a gentle voice, and turn soon. You asked me, Miss Lethierry, how
asked, "How came you here?"              I came to be here. The answer is very simple.
" Make yourselves one," repeated Gilliatt.  I walked behind you. You are twenty-one. In
Ddruchette began to have a sense of the mean- this country, when persons are of age, and deing of his words. She stammered out,      pend only on themselves, they may be married
"My poor uncle!"                        immediately. Let us take the path along the
"If the marriage was yet to be," said Gilli- water-side. It is passable; the tide will not
att, "he would refuse.'When it is over, he rise here till noon. But lose no time. Come
will consent. Besides, you are going to leave with me."
here. When you return, he will forgive."     Deruchette and Caudray seemed to consult
Gilliatt added, with a slight touch of bitter- each other by a glance. They were standing
ness, "And then he is thinking of nothing just close together motionless. They were intoxinow but the rebuilding of his boat. This will cated-with joy. There are strange hesitations
occupy his mind during your absence. The sometimes on the edge of the abyss of happiDurande will console him."                 ness. They understood, as it were, without
"I cannot," said Deruchette, in a state of understanding.
stupor which was not without its gleam of joy,  "His name is Gilliatt," whispered Deru"I must not leave him unhappy."           chette.
"It will be but for a short time," answered  Gilliatt interrupted with a sort of tone of auGilliatt.                                 thority.
Caudray and Deruchette had been, as it were,  "What do you linger for?" he asked. "I
bewildered. They recovered themselves now. tell you to follow me."
The meaning of Gilliatt's words became plainer  "Whither?" asked Caudray.
as their surprise diminished.  There was a   "There!"
slight cloud still before them, but their part was  And Gilliatt pointed with his finger towards
not to resist. We yield easily to those who the spire of the church.
come to save. Objections to a return into Par-  Gilliatt walked on before, and they followed
adise are weak. There was something in the him. His step was firm, but they walked unattitude of Deruchette, as she leaned impercep- steadily.
tibly upon her lover, which seemed to make  As they approached the church, an exprescommon cause with Gilliatt's words. The enig- sioh dawned upon those two pure and beautiful
ma of the presence of this man, and of his words, countenances which was soon to become a smile.
which, in the mind of Deruchette in particular, The approach to the church lighted them up.
produced various kinds of astonishment, was a In the hollow eyes of Gilliatt there was the
thing apart. He said to them, "Be man and darkness of night. The beholder might have
wife!"  This was clear. If there was respon- imagined that he saw a spectre leading two
sibility, it was his. Deruchette had a confused souls to Paradise.
feeling that, for many reasons, he had the right  Caudray and Deruchette scarcely took count
to decide upon her fate. Caudray murmured, of what hadhappened. The interposition of this
as if plunged in thought, "An uncle is not a man was like the branch clutched at by the
father."                                  drowning. They followed their guide with the




150                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
docility of despair, leaning on the first comer. was in the rear, were included in the salutation.
Those who feel themselves near death easily His look was a sort of parenthesis, in which
accept the accident which seems to save. DI- none but Caudray were admitted. -, The observruchette, more ignorant of life, was more confi- ance of these little niceties constitutes an imdent.  Caudray was thoughtful.  Ddruchette portant feature in the maintenance of order
was of age, it was true. The English formali- and the preservation of society.?
ties of marriage are simple, especially in primi-  The Dean continued, with a graceful and digtive parts, where the clergyman has almost a nified urbanity,
discretionary power; but would the Dean con-  "I congratulate you, my colleague, from a
sent to celebrate the marriage without even in- double point of view.  You have lost your
quiring whether the uncle' consented?  This uncle, and are about to take a wife; you are
was the question.  Nevertheless, they could blessed with riches on the one hand, and haplearn. In any case there would be but a delay. piness on the other. Moreover, thanks to the
But what was this man? and if.it was really boat which they are about to rebuild, Mess
he.whom Lethierry the night before had de- Lethierry will also be rich, which is as it
clared should be his son-in-law, what could be should be. Miss Lethierry was born in this
the meaning of his actions? The very obsta- parish; I have verified the date of her birth in
cle itself had become a providence. Caudray the register; She is of age, and at her own
yielded, but his yielding was only the rapid and disposal.  Her uncle, too, who is her only
tacit assent of a man who feels himself saved relative, consents.  You are anxious to be
from despair.                               united immediately on account of your apThe pathway was uneven, and sometimes preaching departure. This I can understand;
wet and difficult to pass. Caudray, absorbed but this being the marriage of the rector of the
in thought, did.not observe the occasional parish, I should have been gratified to have
pools of water or the heaps of shingle. But seen it associated with a little more solemnity.
from time to time Gilliatt turned and said to I will consult your wishes by not detaining you
him, "Take heed of those stones. Give her longer than necessary. The essentials will be
your hand."                                 soon complied with.   The form is already
_ ~^~ *        drawn up in the register, and it requires only
the names to be filled in. By the terms of the
jjjTIII.          law and custom, the marriage may be celebrated immediately after the inscription. The
TEE FORETHOUGHT OF SELF-SACRIFICE,.      declaration necessary for the license has been
IT struck ten as they entered the church.  duly made.. I take upon myself a slight irBy reason of the early hour, and also on ac- regularity, for the application for the license
count of the desertion of the town that day, ought to have been registered seven days in
the church was empty.                       advance; but I yield to necessity and the urAt the farther end, however, near the table gency of your departure.  Be it so, then. I
which in the Reformed Church fulfils the place will proceed with the ceremony.  My evangeof the altar, there were three persons.  They list will be the witness for the bridegroom; as
were the Dean, his evangelist, and the registrar. regards the witness for the bride —"
The Dean, who was the Reverend Jaquemin       The Dean turned towards Gilliatt.  Gilliatt
Herode, was seated; the evangelist and the made a movement of his head.
registrar stood beside him.                   "That is sufficient," said the Dean.
A book was open upon the table.             Caudray remained motionless; De)ruchette
Beside him, upon a credence-table, was an- was happy, but no less powerless to move.
other book. It was the parish register, and'"Nevertheless," continued the Dean, "there
also open; and an attentive eye might have is still an obstacle."
remarked a page on which was some writing,    Deruchette started.
of which the ink was not yet dry. By the      The Dean continued:
side of the register were a pen and a writing-  "The representative here present of Mess
desk.                                      Lethierry applied for the license for you, and
The Reverend Jaquemin Herode rose on has signed the declaration on the register."
perceiving Caudray.                        And with the thumb of his left hand the Dean
"I have been expecting you," he said. "All pointed to Gilliatt, which prevented the neis ready."                                 cessity of his remembering his name.  "The
The Dean, in fact, wore his officiating robes. messenger from  Mess Lethierry," he added,
Caudray looked towards Gilliatt.         "has informed me this morning that, being too
The reverend Dean added, "I am at your much occupied to come in person, Mess Leservice, brother;" and he bowed.          thierry desired that the marriage should take
It was a bow -which neither turned to right place immediately. This desire, expressed veror left. It was evident, from the direction of bally, is not sufficient. In consequence of haythe Dean's gaze, that he did not recognise the ing to grant the license, and of the irregularity
existence of any one but Caudray, for Caudray which I take upon myself, I cannot proceed so
was a clergyman and a gentleman.   Neither rapidly without informing myself fiom Mess
Deruchette, who stood aside, nor Gilliatt, whoI Lethierry personally, unless some one can pro



THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               151
duce his signature. Whatever might be my     There was no reply.
desire to serve you, I cannot be satisfied with a  "Amen!" said the Dean.
mere message. I must have some written doc-  Caudray and Deruchette advanced a step or
ument."                                    two towards the table.
"That need not delay us," said Gilliatt.   "Joseph Ebenezer Caudray, wilt thou have
And he presented a paper to the Dean. The this woman to be thy wedded wife?"
Dean took it, perused it by a glance, seemed to  Caudray replied "I will."
pass over some lines as unimportant, and read  The Dean continued:
aloud: "Go to the Dean for the license. I    "Durande Deruchette Lethierry, wilt thou
wish the marriage to take place as soon as pos- have this man to be thy wedded husband?"
sible. Immediately would-be better."         Deruchette, in an agony of soul, springing
He placed the paper on the table, and pro- from her excess of happiness, murmured rather
ceeded:                                    than uttered, "I will."
" It is signed Lethierry. It would have been  Then followed the beautiful form of the Anmore respectful to have addressed himself to me. glican marriage service.  The Dean looked
But, since I am called on to serve a colleague, I around, and in the twilight of the church utask no more."                              tered the solemn words,
Caudray glanced again at Gilliatt. There   "Who giveth this woman to be married to
are moments when mind and mind comprehend this man?"
each other with marvellous clearness. Caudray  Gilliatt answered, " I do!"
felt that there was some deception; he had not  There was an interval of silence. Caudray
the strength of purpose, perhaps he had not the and Ddruchette felt a vague sense of oppression
idea of revealing it. Whether in obedience to in spite of their joy.
a latent heroism, of which he had begun to ob-  The Dean placed Deruchette's right hand in
tain a glimpse, or whether from a deadening of Candray's, and Caudray repeated after him,
the conscience, arising from the suddenness of  "I take thee, Durande Ddruchette, to be my
the happiness placed within his reach, he uttered wedded wife, for better for worse, for richer for
no word.                                   poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to
The Dean took the pen, and, aided by the cherish till death do us part; and thereto I
clerk, filled up the spaces in the page of the plight thee my troth."
register; then he rose, and by a gesture invited  The Dean then placed Caudray's right hand
Caudray and Ddruchette to approach the table. in that of Deruchette, and Deruchette said after
The ceremony commenced. It was a strange him,
moment. Caudray and Deruchette stood beside   "I take thee to be my wedded husband, for
each other before the minister.  He who has better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickever dreamed of a marriage in which he him- ness or in health, to love and to cherish till death.
self was chief actor may conceive something of do us part; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
the feeling which they experienced.          The Dean asked, "Where is the ring?" The
Gilliatt stood at a little distance in the shad- question took them by surprise. Caudray had
ow of the pillars.                         no ring; but Gilliatt took off the gold ring
Deruchette, on rising in the morning, desper- which he wore upon his little finger. It was
ate, thinking only of death and its associations, probably the wedding-ring which had been sold
had dressed herself in white. Her attire, which that morning by the jeweller in the Commercial
had been associated in her mind with mourn- Arcade.
ing, was suited to her nuptials. A white dress  The Dean placed the ring upon the book,
is all that is necessary for the bride.    then handed it to Caudray, who took DdruA ray of happiness was visible upon her' face. chette's little trembling left hand, passed the
Never had she appeared more beautiful.  Her ring over her fourth finger, and said,
features were remarkable for prettiness rather  "With this ring I thee wed!"
than what is called beauty. Their fault, if fault  "In the name of the Father, and of the Son,
it be, lay in a certain excess of grace. Deru- and of the Holy Ghost," continued the Dean.
chette in repose, that is, neither disturbed by  "Amen," said his evangelist.
passion or grief, was graceful above all. The  Then the Dean said, "Let us pray."
ideal Virgin is the transfiguration of a face like  Caudray and Deruchette turned towards the
this. Deruchette, touched by her sorrow and table and knelt down.
her love, seemed to have caught that higher and  Gilliatt, standing by, inclined his head.
more holy expression. It was the difference  So they knelt before God, while he seemed to
between the field daisy and the lily.      bend under the burden of his fate.
The tears had scarcely dried upon her cheeks;
one perhaps still lingered in the midst of her
smiles. Traces of tears indistinctly visible formIV.
a sweet but sombre accompaniment of joy.
The Dean, standing near the table, placed     FOR  OUR WIFE WHEN YOU MARRY. 
his finger upon the open book, and asked in a  As they left the church they could see the
distinct voice whether they knew of any imped- "Cashmere" making preparations for her deiment to their union.                      parture.




152                        THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
"You are in time," said Gilliatt.      license, signed the necessary declaration, and
They chose again the path leading to the thus the marriage had been rendered possible.
Havelet.                                  But Deruchette understood it not. If she had,
Caudray and Deruchette went before, Gilliatt she could not have comprehended the reasons.
this time walking behind them. They were two They did nothing but close their eyes to the
somnambulists. Their bewilderment had not world, and-grateful in their hearts —yield
passed away, but only changed in form. They themselves up to the guidance of this good detook no heed of whither they were going or of mon. There was no time for explanations, and
what they did. They hurried on mechanically, expressions of gratitude seemed too insignifiscarcely remembering the existence of anything, cant. They were silent in their trance of love.
feeling that they were united forever, but scarce-  The little power of thought which they rely able to connect two ideas in their minds. In tained was scarcely more than sufficient to guide
ecstasy like theirs it is as impossible to think as them on their way-to enable them to distinit is to swim in a torrent. In the midst of their guish the sea from the land, and the "Cashtrouble and darkness they had been plunged in mere" from every other vessel.
a whirlpool of delight; they bore a paradise  In a few minutes they were at the little creek.
within themselves. They did not speak, but   Caudray entered the boat first. At the moconversed with each other by the mysterious ment when Deruchette was about to follow, she
sympathy of their souls. Deruchette pressed felt her sleeve held gently. It was Gilliatt, who
Caudray's arm to her side.                had placed his finger upon a fold of her dress.
The footsteps of Gilliatt behind them remind-  "Madam," he said, "you are going on a
ed them now and then that he was there. They journey unexpectedly. It has struck me that
were deeply moved, but could find no words. you would have need of dresses and clothes.
The excess of emotion results in stupor. Theirs You will find a trunk aboard the "Cashmere,"
was delightful, but overwhelming. They were containing a lady's clothing. It came to me
man and wife; every other idea was postponed from my mother. It was intended for my wife
to that. What Gilliatt had done was well; if I should marry. Permit me to ask your acthat was all they could grasp. They felt to- ceptance of it."
wards their guide a deep but vague gratitude in  Deruchette, partially aroused from her dream,
their hearts. Deruchette felt that there was turned towards him. Gilliatt continued, in a
some mystery to be explained, but not now. voice which was scarcely audible,
Meanwhile they accepted their unexpected hap-  "I do not wish to detain you, madam, but I
piness. They felt themselves controlled by the feel that I ought to give you some explanation.
abruptness and decision of this man who con- On the day of your misfortune you were sitting
ferred on them so much happiness with a kind in the lower room; you uttered certain words;
of authority. To question him, to talk with it is easy to understand that you have forgotten
him seemed impossible. Too many impressions them. We are not compelled to remember
rushed into their minds at once for that. Their every word we speak. Mess Lethierry was in
absorption was complete.                  great sorrow. It was certainly a noble vessel,
Events succeed each other sometimes with and one that did good service. The misfortune
the rapidity of hailstones. Their effect is over- was recent; there was a great commotion.
powering; they deaden the senses. Falling Those are things which one naturally forgets.
upon existences habitually calm, they render It was only a vessel wrecked among the rocks;
incidents rapidly unintelligible even to those one cannot be always thinking of an accident.
whom they chiefly concern; we become scace- But what I wished to tell you was, that as it
ly conscious of our own adventures; we are was said that no one would go, I went. They
overwhelmed without guessing the cause, or said it was impossible, but it was not. I thank
crowned with happiness without comprehend- you for listening to me a moment. You can
ing' it. For some hours Deruchette had been understand, madam, that if I went there, it was
subjected to every kind of emotion: at first, not with the thought of displeasing you. This
surprise and delight at meeting Caudray in the is a thing, besides, of old date. I know that
garden; then horror at the monster whom her you are in haste. If there was time, if we
uncle had presented as her husband; then her talked about this, you might perhaps remember.
anguish when the angel of her dreams spread But this is all useless now. The history of it
his wings and seemed about to depart; and now goes back to a day when there was snow upon
her joy, a joy such as she had never known, the ground. And then, on one occasion that I
founded on an inexplicable enigma; the mon- passed you, I thought that you looked kindly on
ster of last night himself restoring her lover; me. This is how it was. With regard to last
marriage arising out of her torture; this Gil- night, I had not had time to go to my home. I
liatt, the evil destiny of last night, become to- came from my labour; I was all torn and ragday her saviour! She could explain nothing ged; I startled you, and you fainted. I was to
to her own mind. It was evident that all the blame; people do not come like that to stranmorning Gilliatt had had no other occupation gers' houses; I ask your forgiveness. This is
than that of preparing the way for their mar- nearly all I had to say. You are about to sail.
riage: he had done all: he had answered for You will have fine weather; the wind is in the
Mess Lethierry, seen the Dean, obtained the east. Farewell! You will not blame me for




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                               153
troubling you with these things. This is the the rays of light. The sun shone as if it had
last minute."                             never shone before. The pebbles seemed bathed
"I am thinking of the trunk you spoke of," in coolness. Birds but lately fledged sang out
replied Deruchette. "Why do you not keep it their deep notes from the trees, or fluttered
for yourwife, when you marry?"           among the boughs in their attempts to use their
"It is most likely, madam," replied Gilliatt, new-found wings. There was a chattering all
"that I shall never marry."               together of goldfinches, pewits, tomtits, wood"That would be a pity," said Deruchette; peckers, bullfinches, and thrushes. The blos"you are so good."                        soms of lilacs, May lilies, daphnes, and melilots
And Deruchette smiled. Gilliatt returned mingled their various hues in the thickets. A
her smile.                                beautiful kind of water-weed peculiar to GuernThen he assisted her to step into the boat.  sey covered the pools with an emerald green;
In less than a quarter of an hour afterwards, and the kingfishers and the water-wagtails,
Caudray and Deruchette were aboard the "Cash- which make such graceful little nests, came
mere," in the roads.                       down there to bathe their wings. Through every opening in the branches appeared the deep
-- _ ----       blue sky. A few lazy clouds followed each
other in the azure depths. The ear seemed to
V.                     catch the sound of kisses sent from invisible
lips. Every old wall had its tufts of wallflowTHE GREAT TOMB.               ers. The plum-trees and laburnums were in
GILLIATT walked along the water-side, passed blossom; their white and yellow masses gleamrapidly through St. Peter's Port, and then turned ed through the interlacing boughs. The spring
towards St. Sampson by the sea-shore. In his showered all her gold and silver on the woods.
anxiety to meet no one whom he knew, he avoid- The new shoots and leaves were green and fresh.
ed the highways, now filled with foot-passengers Calls of welcome were in the air; the approachby his great achievement.                 ing summer opened her hospitable doors for
For a long time, as the reader knows, he had birds coming from afar. It was the time of the
had a peculiar manner of traversing the coun- arrival of the swallows. The clusters of furzetry in all parts without being observed. He bushes bordered the steep sides of hollow roads
knew the by-paths, and favoured solitary and in anticipation of the clusters of the hawthorn.
winding routes; he had the shy habits of a wild The pretty and the beautiful reigned side by
beast who knows that he is disliked, and keeps side; the magnificent and the graceful, the great
at a distance. When quite a child, he had been and the little, had each their place. No note
quick to feel how little welcome men showed in in the great concert of nature was lost. Green
their faces at his approach, and he had gradual- microscopic beauties took their place in the vast
ly contracted that habit of being alone which universal plan in which all seemed distinguishhad since become an instinct.             able as in limpid water. Everywhere a divine
He passed through the Esplanade, then by fullness, a mysterious sense of expansion, sugthe Salerie. Now and then he turned and gested the unseen effort of the sap in movelooked behind him at the "Cashmere" in the ment. Glittering things glittered more than
roads which was beginning to set her sails. ever; loving natures became more tender.
There was little wind; Gilliatt wjent faster than There was a hymn in the flowers, and a radithe " Cashmere."  He walked with downcast ance in the sounds of the air. The wide-difeyes among the lower rocks at the water's edge. fused harmony of nature burst forth on every
The tide was beginning to rise.           side. All things which felt the dawn of life inSuddenly he stopped, and, turning his back, vited others to put forth shoots. A movement
contemplated for some minutes a group of oaks coming from below, and also from above, stirred
beyond the rocks which concealed the road to vaguely all hearts susceptible to the scattered
Vale. They were the oaks at the spot called and subterranean influence of germination.
the Basses Maisons. It was there that Deru- The flower shadowed forth the fruit; young
chette once wrote with her finger the name of maidens dreamed of love. It was Nature's
Gilliatt in the snow. Many a day had passed universal bridal. It was fine, bright, and warm;
since that snow had melted away.          through the hedges in the meadows children
Then he pursued his way.                were seen laughing and playing at their games.
The day was beautiful-more beautiful than The fruit-trees filled the orchards with their
any that had yet been seen that year. It was heaps of white and pink blossoms. In the fields
one of those spring days when May suddenly were primroses, cowslips, milfoil, daffodils, daipours forth all its beauty, and when Nature sies, speedwell, jacinths, and violets.  Blue
seems to have no thought but to rejoice and be borage and yellow irises swarmed with those
happy. Amidst the many murmurs from for- beautiful little pink stars which flower always
cst and village, from the sea and the air, a sound in groups, and are hence called "companions."
of cooing could be distinguished. The first but- Creatures with golden scales glided between the
terflies of the year were resting on the early stones. The flowering houseleek covered the
roses. Everything in nature seemed new — thatched roofs with purple patches. Women
the grass, the mosses, the leaves, the perfumes, were plaiting hives in the open air; and the




154                       THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.
bees were abroad, mingling their humming with  He strode on from block to block like a giant
the murmurs from the sea.                 among mountains. To make long strides upon
When Gilliatt arrived at St. Sampson, the a row of breakers is like walking upon the ridge
water had not yet risen at the further end of of a roof.
the harbour, and he was able to cross it dry-  A fisherwoman' with, dredge-nets, who had
footed unperceived behind the hulks of vessels been walking naked-footed among the pools of
fixed for repair. A number of flat stones were sea-water at some distance, and had just, replaced there at regular distances to make a gained the shore, called to him, " Take care;
causeway.                                 the tide is coming."  But he held on his way.
He was not observed. The crowd was at the  Having arrived at the great rock of the point,
other end of the port, near the narrow entrance the Horn, which rises like a pinnacle from the
by the Bravees. There his name was in every sea, he stopped. It was the extremity of the
mouth. They were speaking about him so much promontory.
that none paid attention to him. He passed,  He looked around.
sheltered in some degree by the very commotion  Out at sea a few sailing-boats at anchor were
that he had caused.                       fishing. Now and then rivulets of silver glitHe saw from afar the sloop in the place tered among them in the sun; it was the water
where he had moored it, with the funnel stand- running from the nets. The "Cashmere" was
ing between its four chains; observed a move- not yet off St. Sampson.  She had set her mainment of carpenters at their work, and confused topsail, and was between Herm and Jethou.
outlines of figures passing to and fro; and he  Gilliatt rounded the rock, and came under
could distinguish the loud and cheery voice of the Gild-Holm-'Ur seat, at the foot of that kind
Mess Lethierry giving orders.             of abrupt stairs where, less than three months
He threaded the narrow alleys behind the before, he had assisted Caudray to come down.
Bravees. There was no one there beside him. He ascended.
All curiosity was concentrated on the front of  The greater number of the steps were already
the house. He chose the footpath alongside the under water. Two or three only were still dry,
low wall of the garden, but stopped at the angle by which he climbed.
where the wild mallow grew. He saw once      The steps led up to the Gild-Holm-'Ur seat.
more the stone where he used to pass his time; He reached the niche, contemplated it for a mosaw once more the wooden garden-seat where ment, pressed his hand upon his eyes, and let it
Deruchette was accustomed to sit, and glanced glide gently from one eyelid to the other-a gesagain at the pathway of the alley where he had ture by which he seemed to obliterate the memseen the embrace of two shadows which had ory of the past-then sat down in the hollow,
vanished.                                 with the perpendicular wall behind him, and the
He soon went on his way, climbed the hill of ocean at his feet.
Vale Castle, descended again, and directed his  The " Cashmere" at that moment was passsteps towards the Bi de la Rue.           ing the great round half-submerged tower, deThe Houmet-Paradis was a solitude.      fended by one sergeant and a cannon, which
His house was in the same state in which he marks the half way in the roads between Herm
had left it in the morning, after dressing him- and St. Peter's Port.
self to go to St. Peter's Port.             A few flowers stirred among the crevices in
A window was open, through which his bag- the rock about Gilliatt's head. The sea was
pipe might have been seen hanging to a nail blue as far as eye could reach. The wind came
upon the wall.                            from the east; there was a little surf in the diUpon the table was the little "Bible" given rection of the island of Sark, of which only the
to him in token of gratitude by the stranger western side is visible from Guernsey. In the
whom he now knew as Caudray.              distance appeared the coast of France like a
The key was in the door. He approached, mist, with the long yellow strips of sand about
placed his hand upon it, turned it twice in the Carteret. Now and then a white butterfly flutlock, put the key in his pocket, and departed.  tered by. The butterflies frequently fly out to
He walked not in the direction of the town, sea.
but towards the sea.                        The breeze was very slight. The blue exHe traversed his garden diagonally, taking panse, both above and below, was tranquil. Not
the shortest way without regard to the beds, but a ripple agitated those species of serpents, of an
taking care not to tread upon the, plants which azure more or less dark, which indicate on the
he placed there, because he had heard that they surface of the sea the lines of sunken rocks.
were favourites with Deruchette.            The "-Cashmere," little moved by the wind,
He crossed the parapet wall, and let himself had set her topsail and studding-sails to catch
down upon the rocks.                      the breeze. All her canvas was spread, but the
Going straight on, he began to follow the wind being a side one, her studding-sails only
long ridge of rocks which connected the Bu de compelled her to hug the Guernsey coast more
la Rue with the great natural obelisk of granite closely.  She had passed the beacon of St.
rising erect from the sea, which was known as Sampson, and was off the hill of Vale Castle.
the Beast's Horn. This was the place of the The moment was approaching when she would
Gild-Holm-'Ur seat.                       double the point of the Bu de la Rue.




THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.                                155
Gilliatt watched her approach.            shore, and it glided within a few fathoms of the
The air and sea were still. The tide rose Gild-Holm-'Ur seat, Gilliatt heard the tender
not by waves, but by an imperceptible swell. and musical voice of Deruchette exclaiming,
The level of the water crept upward without a  "Look yonder. It seems as if there were a
palpitation.  The subdued murmur from   the man upon the rock."
open sea was soft as the breathing of a child.  The vessel passed.
In the direction of the harbour of St. Samp-  Leaving the promontory of the Bu de la Rue
son, faint echoes could be heard of carpenters' behind, the " Cashmere" glided on upon the
hammers.   The carpenters were probably the waters. In less than a quarter of an hour, her
workmen constructing the tackle, gear, and ap- masts and sails formed only a white obelisk,
paratus for removing the engine from the sloop. gradually decreasing against the horizon.  GilThe sounds, however, scarcely reached Gilliatt liatt felt that the water had reached his knees.
by reason of the mass of granite at his back.  He contemplated the vessel speeding on her
The " Cashmere" approached with the slow- way.
ness of a phantom.                            The breeze freshened out at sea. He could
Gilliatt watched it still.                see the " Cashmere" run out her lower studdingSuddenly a splash and a sensation of cold sails and her staysails to take advantage of the
caused him to look down.  The sea touched his rising wind. She was already clear of the waters
feet.                                       of Guernsey.  Gilliatt followed it with his eyes.
He lowered his eyes, then raised them again.  The waves had reached his waist.
The " Cashmere" was quite near.             The tide was rising: time was passing away.
The rock in which the rains had hollowed    The sea-mews and cormorants flew about him
out the Gild-Holm-'Ur seat was so completely restlessly, as if anxious to warn him of his danvertical, and there was'so much water at its ger. It seemed as if some of his old companbase, that in calm weather vessels were able to ions of the Douvres rocks had recognised him.
pass without danger within a few cables lengths.  An hour had passed.
The " Cashmere" was abreast of the rock.. It  The wind fiom the sea was scarcely felt in
rose straight upwards as if it had grown out of the roads, but the form of the " Cashmere". was
the water. It was like the lengthening out of rapidly growing less. The sloop, according to
a shadow. The rigging showed black against all appearance, was sailing fast. It was already
the heavens and in the magnificent expanse of nearly off the Casquets.
the sea. The long sails, passing for a moment  There was no foam around the Gild-Holmover the sun, became lighted up with a singular'Ur; no wave beat against its granite sides.
glory and transparence. The water murmured The water rose peacefuly.  It was nearly level
indistinctly, but no other noise marked the ma- with Gilliatt's shoufders. 
jestic gliding of that outline.  The deck was as  Another hour had passed.
visible as if he had stood upon it.           The " Cashmere" was beyond the waters of
The steersman was at the helm; a cabin-boy Aurigny. The Ortach rock concealed it for a
was climbing the shrouds; a few passengers moment; it passed behind it, and came forth
leaning on the bulwarks were contemplating the again as from an eclipse.  The sloop was veerbeauty of the scene. The captain was smoking; ing to the north upon the open sea. It was
but nothing of all this was seen by Gilliatt.  now only a point glittering in the sun.
There was a spot on the deck on which the   The birds were hovering about Gilliatt, utterbroad sunlight fell. It was on this corner that ing short cries. Only his head was now visible.
his eyes were fixed. In this sunlight stood The tide was nearly at the full. Evening was
Deruchette and Caudray.   They were sitting approaching.  Behind him, in the roads, a few
together side by side, like two birds, warming fishing-boats were making for the harbour.
themselves in the noonday sun, upon one of    Gilliatt's eyes continued fixed upon the vesthose covered seats with a little awning which sel in the horizon.  Their expression resembled
well-ordered packet-boats provided for passen- nothing earthly. A strange lustre shone in their
gers, and upon which was the inscription, when calm and tragic depths. There was in them the
it happened to be an English vessel, "For ladies peace of vanished hopes, the calm but sorrowonly."  Deruchette's head was leaning upon ful acceptance of an end far different from his
Caudray's shoulder; his arm was around her dreams. By degrees the dusk of heaven began
waist; they held each other's hands, with their to darken in them, though gazing still upon the
fingers interwoven. A celestial light was dis- point in space. At the same moment the wide
cernible in those two faces formed by innocence. waters round the Gild-Hiolm-'Ur and the vast
Their chaste embrace was expressive of their gathering twilight closed upon them.
earthly union and their purity of soul. The   The "Cashmere," now scarcely perceptible,.
seat was a sort of alcove, almost a nest; it was had become a mere spot in the thin haze.
at the same time a glory round them-the ten-  Gradually the spot, which was but a shape,
der aureola of love passing into a cloud.   grew paler.
The silence was like the calm of heaven.    Then it dwindled, and finally disappeared.
Caudray's gaze was fixed in contemplation.  At the moment when the vessel vanished on
Deruchette's lips moved; and, amidst that per- the line of the horizon, the head of Gilliatt disfect silence, as the wind-carried the vessel near appeared. Nothing was visible now'but the sea.
THE END.








THE
LOST TALES OF MILETUS.
BY THE. RIGHT HON.
SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, BART. M.P.
12mo, Cloth, Beveled Edges, $i oo.
"Time has spared no remains, in their original form, of those famous Tales
of Miletus, which are generally considered to be the remote progenitors of the
modern novel. The strongest presumption in favour of their merit rests on the
evidence of the popularity they enjoyed both among Greeks and Romans in
times when the imaginative literature of either people was at its highest point
of cultivation. As to the materials which they employed for interest or amusement, we are not without means of reasonable conjeture.
"Parthenius has bequeathed to us a colle&ion of short love-stories compiled
from older and more elaborate legends. In making this collecion he could
scarcely fail to have had recourse to sources -so popular as the fiftions of
Miletus.  His work seems designed to suggest, from the themes illufsrated by
old tale-tellers, hints to the imitation or invention of later poets.
"Out of such indications of the character and genius of the lost Milesian
Fables, and from all the remains. of myth and tale once in popular favour,
which may be found, not only in such repertories of ancient legend as those
of Apollodorus and Conon, but scattered throughout the Scholiasts or in the
pages of Pausanias or Athenmus, I have en'deavoured' to weave together a few
stories that may serve as feeble specimens of the various kinds of subject in
which these ancestral tale-tellers may have exercised their faculties of invention.
"I have adopted for this volume forms of poetic rhythm; and the character of the subjects treated seemed to me favourable for an experiment which
I have long cherished a desire to adventure, viz., that of new combinations
of blank or rhymeless metre, composed not in lines of arbitrary length and
modulation, but in the regularity and compa6tness of uniform  stanza, constru&ted upon principles of rhythm very simple in themselves, but which, so
far as I am aware, have not been hitherto adopted, at least for narrative purposes." —Extrac7 from the Preface.
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
HARPER & BROTHERS will send the above work by mail, postage prepaid, to any part
of the United States, on receipt of One Dollar.




Just Ready:       with    numerous Illustrations, and          a   Jffap  by
Arrowsmnith.       660 pp., 8vo, Cloth, $5 00.
LIVINGSTONE'S ZABESI.
NARRATIVE OF AN EXPEDITION TO THE ZAMBESI AND ITS TRIBUTARIES; and of the Discovery of Lakes Shirwa and Nyassa.           I858-I864.
By DAVID and CHARLES LIVINGSTONE.
From the Athenceum.
While many a reader in happy homes has been perusing; during.the last eight years, the narrative of Dr. Livingstone's first expedition, that enterprising traveller, in the interests of trade,
science, religion, and humanity, has been engaged in penetrating, through the eastern coast,
into unvisited country. He has nobly accomplished a noble work, has "run home," as he calls
it, to give to the world the record of his experiences, and has started again, to turn those experiences to profitable purposes for Africa and for the world. There have not been many voices
from beyond the waters, not many echoes from afar, that have been more welcome to. us than
the occasional intelligence which we received of the progress and the fortunes of the African
travellers. That intelligence stimulated a curiosity which this book will gratify. It comes from
the hands and hearts of those who write so naturally and wisely, that the apology for supposed
lack of litertry ability seems almost an affectation on the part of the principal author, who, to
acuteness of observation, added nice discernment and accurate judgment; who never lost hope,
courage, or perseverance; who, having a work to do, was determined to go through with it; who
puts his trust in God, has some reliance on his weapons, some well-founded confidence in his
common-sense, and who learned to care no more for African fevers than Lady Sale did for
earthquakes.
Dr. Livingstone has found, according to this interesting volume, a wide and new'field for com.
merce, emigration, and civilization.
From the Reader.
Combine Moffat with Mungo Park, and the result would resemble David Livingstone. This
remarkable man has spent almost the whole of his life in unknown Africa. He resided among
the Kaffirs for many years, laboring to convert them to the Christian faith. He made no less
than five great journeys, each of sufficient importance to have gained him a reputation.
The first book which he produced was immense. Criticism recoiled awe-struck before it. It
contained the adventures, the experiences, the impressions of sixteen years in Africa. It was the
record of a missionary's life on the frontier of white men's settlements; described the customs
of savage tribes previously unknown to us even by name; and added greatly to our geographical
knowledge of Central Africa. He discovered lakes like seas, chains of mountains, and a waterfall which is larger than Niagara. Such a book as this could be compared with no other book;
nothing like it had ever been written before; it was an encyclopedia compiled not from a library,
but from a continent. * * * *
The expedition, then, has enriched us with valuable collections, obtained during six years, and
from regions unexplored before. It has discovered a port which can be made available for commerce. It has ascertained the exact value of the Zambesi as a water-road. It has brought us
also valuable information respecting the natural productions of the soils in Eastern Africa. Indigo has been found growing wild over large tracts of country, and often attains the height of a
man. The cotton is found to be of a very superior quality. Cotton wool sent to Manchester was
pronounced to be twopence per pound better in quality than common New Orleans. The plant
also appears to be peculiarly vigorous and persistent in the soil. The soils are also favorable to
the delicate tobacco plant, to the custor-oil plant, and to the sugar-cane.
"The Zambesi and its Tributaries" is a work which every one should read, and which all who
have libraries should buy.
From the Examiner.
As a traveller Dr. Livingstone is unsurpassed, and after another-six years' spell of work that
would have killed six ordinary men, the results of his journeyings are here pithily detailed in a
volume quite as valuable and interesting as the "Missionary Travels" of 1857. * * *
Dr. Livingstone is by far the most painstaking and precise of our African travellers. He looks
and looks again at every thing that comes in his way, and he spares no trouble in turning aside
to complete his knowledge, and fit himself to give a terse, vigorous, and truthful description of
whatever is worth noticing at all. He has good eyes, and writes a skillful record, whatever the
bias of his judgment.
PUBLISHED BY HARPER      & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW YORK.'- Sent by Mail to any part of the United States, postage free, on receipt of $5 00.




BY MRS. OLIPHANT.
THE    LIFE    OF   EDWARD         IRVING, Minister of the National Scotch
Church, London. Illustrated by his Journals and Correspondence. 8vo, Cloth, $3 50.
THE DAYS OF MY           LIFE.     An Autobiography.      A  Novel.    12mo, Cloth,
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THE LAIRD        OF NORLAW.          A  Scottish Story.    12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
THE LAST OF THE MORTIMERS. A Story in Two Voices. 12mo,
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THE HOUSE        ON   THE    MOOR.      A  Novel.    12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
LUCY     CROFTON.       A Novel.     12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
A  SON    OF THE     SOIL.    A  Novel.    8vo, Cloth, $1 50; Paper, $1 00.
CHRONICLES         OF CARLINGFORD.            A   Novel.   8vo, Cloth, $1 75; Paper, $1 25.
THE PERPETUAL CURATE.                 8vo, Cloth, $1 50; Paper, $1 00.
THE    ATHELINGS; or, The Three Gifts.            A Novel.    8vo, Paper, 75 cents.
KATIE STEWART. A True Story. 8vo, Paper, 25 cents.
THE QUIET HEART.             A  Novel.   8vo, Paper, 25 cents.
AGNES. A Novel. 8vo, Paper, 75 cents.
That the authoress of the "Chronicles of Carlingford" is entitled to a prominent position in
the upper chamber of modern novelists, none will be inclined to dispute who have been fascinated
by that delightful series. * * Compare Miss Braddon's.and Mrs. Henry Wood's stories with the
creations of Miss Bronte, Mrs. Gaskell, the authoress of "Adam Bede," or Mrs. Oliphant; guage
them respectively by the tests of truth, insight, force, and grace of style, and the difference is as
between paste and diamonds.-London Reader.
Mrs. Oliphant's books are always characterized by thought and earnestness-some purpose
making itself manifest in them beyond that of merely striking the fancy of her readers, or gaining
their attention for a moment.-London Review.
We are entitled to look for something beyond the common in all that Mrs. Oliphant writes,
and we find it here in her masterly delineation of character, in the perfect keeping of her personages, whose conduct changes naturally with the natural growth and decay of their ruling motives.
-London Daily Nezs.
Some writers seem to have no power of growth; they reproduce themselves with more or less
success. But others, who study human nature, improve instead of deteriorating. There is no
living novelist in whom this improvement is so marked as Mrs. Oliphant.-London Press.
Mrs. Oliphant is one of the most admirable of our lady novelists.-London Post.
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Carlyle's Frederick the Great.
HISTORY OF FRIEDRICH I., called Frederick the Great.
By THOMAS CARLYLE, Author oJ a "History of the
French Revoltoion," "Oliver Cromwell," &c.                                   With Portraits and Maps.               Complete in Six Volumes.                     I2mo, Cloth,
$2 oo per Volume.
Mr. Carlyle is about the only living writer whose   The redacteur can not adequately convey, in the short
opinions are of value even when it is impossible to agree space allotted him, a conception of the masterly thought,
with them. No one is more fond than he of paradox, but the comely diction, the astute philosophy, which manifew men's paradoxes hint at so important truths. No fest themselves on every page of this last product of Carone with a more autocratic dogmatism sets up strong lyle's scholarly researches and gifted intellect. There
men as heroes, or condemns the hapless possessors of pot- are some publications submitted to his examinatioi
bellies to infamy; but then his judgments, even when which, because of their incorporate, inherent power, can
they can not be confirmed, always enforce some weighty not receive from his pen a satisfactory meitioning of.
principle which we were in danger of forgetting. And "Frederick the Great" is one of them. Let the reviewer
if it sometimes happens that neither the hero nor the be never so succinct and comprehensive in the expression
principles commend themselves, still the thoroughness of his critical opinions, he can simply marvel in silence
of the execution, and the fire with which al his writings at the graphic details (as in the book now under our
are instinct, never fail to make a great if..-London  thumbing) of plots and campaigns, in cabinet council or
Revisew.                                            on field of battle, which captivate his attention, and
Probably the History of Frederick will forever remain then do what we most sincerely desire in this respectone of the finest pieces of literary painting, as well as enjoin upon every reader an earnest perusal of the same.
one of the most marvelous attempts at special pleading, And this is the best, nay, all, that he can do.-Homen
extant in our own or any language.-London Spec- Journal.
tator.                                                CarlyIe is, indeed, quaint and odd; but he is no less
IIe writes history just as no man but Carlyle ean earnest, and true, and noble, and grand. IHe is the one
write it, and for this reason his history will be widely specimen of his kind, we really believe, of philosophers,
held in great admiration. We should never turn to historians, and poets. Of course we find his peculiarities
this so much for a history of Frederick as for Carlyle: all through the great work, and equally of course we find
he gives us himself emphatically, amusingly, unques- it profoundly interesting in matter and piquant in style.
tionably, in these pages; yet he picks up facts to illus- -Episcopal Recorder.
trate the life of his hero and his times that no other man  Mr. Carlyle has at last completed his graven image,
would have thought of touching, and to the thinking and sets it up for the admiration of the world. The
mind these facts are full of the bone and sinew of his- Smelfunguses and Dryasdqsts, whom Carlyle delights to
tory. -Evening Post.                                ridicule, have been great helps to him in gathering up the
1History, in the true sense, he does not and can not details of a life which at best was unamiable, if not bruwrite, for he looks on mankind as a herd without voli- tal; stern and unlovely, if not repulsive-the life of a
tion and without moral force; but such vivid pictures man whose love for war in the field was-carried into the
of events, such living conceptions of character, we find closet, and penetrated the gentler seclusion of the family
nowhere else in prose. The figures of most historians circle. Mr. Carlyle, with that amazing fancy for heroseem like dolls stuffed with bran, whose whole substance worship in which he excels, would force us to believe his
runs out through any hole that criticism may tear in paragon all that he paints him; and therle is certainly
them; but Carlyle's are so real that, if you prick them, power in the picture. The old records have been most
they bleed.-North American Review..      thoroughly sifted by Carlyle, who seems to have.elinWhen Carlyle writes a book we only look into it to see inated every grain of wheat from bushels of chaff. -- -
Carlyle, not the subject of which he writes. He stands aminer and Chronicle.
up among authors like a knarled and sturdy oak, full of  The reader is out of patience with him in almost every
all sorts of fantastic shapes, ridiculous oddities that de- page, yet reads him through to the end, and closes the
note a superabundance of vigor in, his growth-a vigor book still wishing for more. lie is a man of tremendous
that will not be confined by the laws of ordinary life. prejudices and partialities. Frederick is one of his heFrederick, as seen through the eyes of Carlyle, will and roes. Carlyle, however, has reasons aiways to gi —e for
does possess the attributes of a god that never existed his likes and dislikes, and one is.3sre to be interested in
among men. This book will seize the big-eared world, the argument, whether he accepts th; conclusion or not.and compel it to listen.-Boston Post.               Christian Timess and Witness.
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