Book: The Blue Pavilions

S >> Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller Couch >> The Blue Pavilions




Tristram shuddered. "This King of yours," said he, "must be the
first-cousin to the devil."

"They are all alike, _mon cher_. What, for instance, has your King
done for you? But speak not so loud." He took a few steps in
silence, and added: "After all, one must distinguish between crimes.
If the poor _faussoniers_ are treated to the galleys it is absurd to
suppose that nothing worse must befall a deserter."

"What is a _faussonier?_"

"There is one yonder, comrade--that young peasant who walks like a
calf and seems to know not whither he is bound. He is condemned
because he bought some salt for his young wife, who was ill."

"Is that a crime?"

"It depends where you buy it. You must know, my friend, that in most
of the provinces of France salt is very dear. A pint will cost you
four francs and a little over. Therefore the poor cannot afford it
for their soup, and some, for lack of it, go fasting most of the
week. So they starve and languish and fall sick, as did this young
man's wife. But in my native Burgundy--blessed be its name!--and
also in the country of Doubs, salt is cheap enough. Now this young
man dwelt close on the frontier of Burgundy--I have seen him times
and again at the vintage work--and because he was very fond of his
wife, and could not bear to see her die, he ventured across the
frontier to buy salt cheaply; and, being taken, he has been condemned
to the galleys for six years. In the meantime his wife will perish.
But the King's taxes must be paid. Else how shall we exterminate his
enemies?"

"But," Tristram exclaimed, trembling with indignation, "how can you
be cheerful in this fearful land?"

"What! I? Well, I am cheerful, to begin with, because my nose is
not slit."

"That appears to me a very slight reason."

"You would not say so if you had run so near it as I."

"Are you a deserter, then?"

"Thanks for your good opinion, comrade! No. I was never guilty of
disloyalty to King Lewis, But I killed my wife's mother, _pardieu!_--
which the judge seemed to think almost as vile, till I sent a friend
to grease his palm with the last sou of my patrimony. And, by good
fortune, it became greasy enough to let me slip out of the worst."

"A murderer!" gasped our innocent youth, drawing away from his side.

"She was talkative," the little man explained, with composure.
"But let us converse upon other subjects. Only I must warn you that
on board the galleys, whither we are bound, a man can recoil from his
neighbour but just so far as his chain allows."

In such converse they beguiled the way, talking low whenever an
archer drew near, and whispering together at night until they dropped
asleep in the filthy stables where they were packed, their chains
secured at either end to the wall, and so tightly that they had
barely liberty to lie down, and none to turn, or even stir, in their
sleep. By degrees Tristram grew even to like this volatile and
disreputable comrade, whose conscience was none of his own growing,
but of the laws he lived under.

On reaching Dunkirk, however, they were parted, Tristram being
assigned to the galley _L'Heureuse_, while the Burgundian was told
off to _La Merveille_, then commanded by the Chevalier de
Sainte-Croix.

"You are in luck, comrade," he said, as they parted under the
Rice-bank fort, beside the pier; "_L'Heureuse_ is the Commodore's
galley, and the only one in which a poor devil of a slave has an
awning above his head to keep the rain and sun off. Ah, what it is
to have six feet of stature and a pair of shoulders!"

It turned out as he said. _L'Heureuse_, commanded by the Commodore
de la Pailletine, was the head of a squadron of six galleys then
quartered in the port of Dunkirk. But it is necessary here to say a
word or two about these strange vessels which the Count de Tourville
had recently brought round to the north coast of France from
Marseilles and the ports of the Mediterranean. They were narrow
craft, ranging from 120 feet to 150 feet long, and from eighteen feet
to twenty feet by the beam. In the hold they were not more than
seven feet deep; so that, with a full crew on board, the deck stood
less than a couple of feet from the water's edge; for the number of
men they held was prodigious. The Commodore's galley alone was
manned by 336 slaves, and 150 men of all sorts, either officers,
soldiers, seamen, or servants. This, however, was the biggest
complement of all; for while _L'Heureuse_ had fifty-six oars, with
six slaves to tug at each, none of the rest carried more than fifty,
with five rowers apiece. The prow of each galley was of iron,
pointed like a beak, and so sharp that when rowed at full speed
against a hostile ship it was like to sink her, or at least to drive
deep and hold on while the boarders poured up and over her side.
In addition to this formidable weapon, each carried four guns right
forward, besides a heavier piece which was worked on a circular
platform amidships, and when not required for service was stowed by
the mainmast for ballast. Each galley had two masts, though they
were next to useless, for it is easy to see that vessels so laden and
open at the decks were fit only for the lightest breezes, and in foul
weather must run to harbour for their lives.

Before embarking in the boat which was to take him on board, Tristram
was led up to the Rice-bank, where a barber shaved his head, and
where he was forced to exchange the suit he wore for a coarse canvas
frock, a canvas shirt and a little jerkin of red serge, sleeveless,
and slit on either side up to the arm-holes. The design of this (as
a warder explained to him) was to allow his muscles free play, which
Tristram pronounced very considerate, repeating this remark when he
received a small scarlet cap to keep the cold from his shaven head.
He was next offered a porringer of soup, consisting chiefly of oil,
with a dozen lentils floating on the top; and having consumed it, was
rowed off to be introduced to his new companions. On considering his
circumstances, he found but one which could be called consoling.
It was that he had been allowed to retain and stow in his waist-belt
his little packet of pepper-cress seed--a favour for which he thanked
his persecutors with tears in his eyes.

It happened that his galley was bound that afternoon on a cruise of a
few miles along the coast and indeed was lifting anchor as he was
hauled up the side. He had, therefore, but a hasty view of his
surroundings before he was chained to his bench, facing the great
oar. He saw only a long chamber, crossed by row upon row of white,
desperate faces. Down the middle, by the ends of the benches, ran a
gangway, along which three overseers paced leisurably, each with a
tall, flexible wand in his hand. The stench in the place was
overpowering, and Tristram was on the point of swooning when the
fellow who was chained beside him growled a word of advice:

"Look sharp and slip your jacket off."

Tristram obeyed without understanding. He saw that all the figures
around him were naked to the waist, and therefore pulled off shirt as
well as jacket, but not quickly enough to prevent a stroke, which
hissed down on his shoulders and made him set his teeth with anguish.
The man beside him uttered a sharp cry. He too had felt the cut, or
part of it; for the overseer's wand did not discriminate.

The handle of the great oar swung towards Tristram. Noting how his
neighbour's hands were laid upon it, and copying his example, he
began to tug with the rest, rising from his bench and falling back
upon it at each stroke; and at the end of each stroke, where
ordinarily a boat's oars rattle briskly against the tholepins, the
time was marked with a loud clash of chains, and often enough with a
sharp cry from some poor wretch who had been caught lagging and
thwacked across the bare shoulders. The fatigue after a time grew
intolerably heavy. While the sun smote down through the awning, the
heat of their exercise seemed never to pass up through it, but beat
back upon their faces in sickening waves, stopping their breath.
Of the world outside their den they could see nothing but a small
patch of grey sea beyond the hole in which their oar worked.
The sweat poured off their chests and backs in streams, until their
waist-bands clung to the flesh like soaked sponges. Some began to
moan and sob; others to entreat Heaven for a respite, as if God were
directing their torture and taking delight in it; others again broke
out into frightful imprecations, cursing their Maker and the hour of
their birth. And while the oars swung and the chains clashed and the
cries redoubled their volume, the three keepers moved imperturbably
up and down the gangway, flicking their whips to left and right, and
drawing blood with every second stroke. At length, when Tristram's
head was reeling and the backs of the bench-full just in front were
melting before his eyes and swimming in a blood-red haze, the order
was yelled to easy. The men dropped their faces forward on the oars,
and rested them there while they panted and coughed, catching the
breath again into their heaving bodies. Then one or two began to
laugh and utter some poor drolleries; presently the sound spread, and
within three minutes the whole pit was full of chatter and uproar.
They seemed to forget their miseries even as they wiped the blood off
their shoulders.

And now, while the cold wind began to creep underneath the awning and
dry the sweat around their loins, Tristram had time to take stock of
his companions, and even to ask a question or two of the slave that
had spoken to him. They were all stalwart fellows, the Commodore
having the pick of all the _forcats_ drafted to his port, and
exercising it with some care, because he prided himself on the speed
of his vessel. Not a few wore on their cheeks the ghastly red
fleur-de-lis, which he now knew for the mark of deserters, murderers,
and the more flagrant criminals; others, he learned, were condemned
for the pettiest thefts, and a large proportion for having no better
taste than to belong to the Protestant religion. The man beside him,
for instance, was a poor Huguenot from Perigord, who had been caught
on the frontier in the act of escaping to a country in which he had a
slightly better chance of calling his soul his own. All these were
white men; but at the end of each bench, next the gangway, sat a Turk
or Moor. These were bought slaves, procured expressly to manage the
stroke of the oar, and for their skill treated somewhat better than
the Christians. They earned the same pay as the soldiers, and were
not chained, like other slaves, to the benches, but carried only a
ring on the foot as a badge of servitude. Indeed, when not engaged
in service, they enjoyed a certain amount of liberty, being allowed
to go on shore and trade, purchasing meat for such of the white men
as had any money or were willing to earn some by clearing their
neighbours' clothes of vermin--a common trade on board these galleys,
where the confined space, the dirt and profuse sweating at the oar
bred all manner of loathsome pests.

It was by degrees that Tristram learnt all this, as during the week
that followed he found time to chat with the Huguenot and improve his
acquaintance with the French tongue. By night he was provided with a
board, a foot and a half wide, on which to stretch himself; and as he
lay pretty far aft, was warned against scratching himself, lest the
rattle of his chains should disturb the officers, whose quarters were
divided from the slaves' by the thinnest of wooden partitions.
By day, indeed, these officers, as well as the chaplain, had the use
of the Commodore's room, a fairly spacious chamber in the stern,
shaped on the outside like a big cradle, with bulging windows and a
couple of lanterns on the taffrail above, that were lit when evening
closed in. But at night, or in foul weather, M. de la Pailletine
reserved this apartment for his own use.

At six o'clock every morning the slaves were roused up and began
their day with prayers, which the chaplain conducted, taking
particular care that the Huguenots were hearty in their responses.
The Turks--or _Vogue-avants_ as they were called--were never molested
on the score of religion; but while Mass was being said were put out
of the galley into a long-boat, where they diverted themselves by
smoking and talking till the Christians were through with their
exercises.

When these were done the daily portion of biscuit--pretty good,
though coarse--was doled out to each man, and at ten o'clock a
porringer of soup. Also, on days when the galleys were taken for a
cruise, each slave received something less than a pint of wine,
morning and evening, to keep up his strength. But it must not be
imagined from this that their work was light during the rest of the
week. When the weather kept them in harbour, all such as knew any
useful trade were taken off the galley to the town of Dunkirk, and
there set to work under guard, some at the making of new clothes or
the repairing of old ones; others at carpentry, plumbing, or
shoemaking; others, again, at repairing the fortifications, and so
on--thus allowing room for the residue to scrub out the galley, wash
down the benches and decks, and set all ship-shape and in order: of
which residue Tristram was one, being versed in no trade but that of
gardening, for which there seemed to be no demand. But at length,
having an eye for colour, he was given a paint-pot and brushes,
slung over the galley's stern, and set to work to touch up the
window-frames of the Commodore's cabin. The position was
uncomfortable at first, since the board on which he was slung was but
eight inches wide, and the galley's stern rose to a considerable
height above the water. Looking down, he reflected that, with the
heavy chain on his leg, he was safe to drown if he slipped; and in
spite of his miserable situation, he had not the least desire to die,
being full of trust in Providence and assured that, so long as he
lived, there would always be a chance of regaining his beloved
Sophia. And pretty soon he grew to delight in the work, not for its
own sake alone, but because it separated him for a time from the
sight of his companions and their misery. The paint was blue, which
reminded him of the Pavilions at home, and he began to throw his soul
into the job, with the result that the Commodore expressed much
satisfaction with it, and gave him instructions to repaint the whole
of the stern, including the magnificent board with the inscription
_L'HEUREUSE_ in gilt letters, and the royal arms of France surrounded
with decorations in the flamboyant style.

Thus it happened that, one fine morning in the middle of June, he was
hanging out over the stern in his usual posture, and, having finished
the letters _L'HEU_, took a look around on the brightness of the day
before dipping his brush and starting again. The galley with her
five consorts lay in the Royal Basin under the citadel, and a mile in
from the open sea, towards which the long line of the pier extended,
its tall forts dominating the sand-dunes that stretched away to right
and left. The sands shone; the sea was a silvery blue, edged with a
dazzle where its breakers touched the shore; a clear northerly breeze
came sweeping inland and hummed in the galley's rigging as it flew
by. From the streets of Dunkirk sounded the cheerful bustle of the
morning's business; and as Tristram glanced up at the glistening
spire of the Jesuits' church, its clock struck out eleven o'clock as
merrily as if it played a tune.

It was just at this moment, as he turned to dip his brush, that he
caught sight of a small boat approaching across the basin. It was
rowed by a waterman, and in the stern-sheets there sat a figure the
sight of which caused Tristram's heart to stop beating for a moment,
and then to resume at a gallop. He caught hold of the rope by which
he hung, and looked again.

Beyond a doubt it was his father, Roderick Salt!

Now just as Tristram underwent this shock of surprise, from a point
about three yards above his head another person was watching the boat
with some curiosity. This was the Commodore, M. de la Pailletine,
who stood on the poop with his feet planted wide and his hands
clasped beneath his coat-tails. He was wondering who this visitor
could be.

Captain Salt was elegantly dressed, and the cloak thrown back from
his broad chest revealed a green suit, thick with gold lace, and a
white waistcoat also embroidered with gold. The bullion twinkled in
the sunshine as the boat drew near and, crossing under Tristram's
dangling heels, dropped alongside the galley. And as it passed, the
son, looking straight beneath him, determined in his heart that, bad
as his present plight might be, he would endure it rather than trust
himself in his father's hands again. The Captain stepped briskly up
the ladder and gained the galley's deck. He had given the young man
a glance and no more. It was not wonderful that he had failed to
recognise in the young _forcat_ with the shaven head and rough,
stubbly beard the son whom he had abandoned more than a month before.
Besides, he was busy composing in his mind an introductory speech to
be let off on M. de la Pailletine, in whose manner of receiving him
he anticipated some little frigidity.

However, he stepped on deck and advanced towards the officer on the
poop with a pleasant smile, doffing his laced hat with one hand and
holding forward a letter in the other. M. de la Pailletine took his
hands from beneath his coat-tails and also advanced, returning the
salute very politely.

"The Commodore de la Pailletine, I believe?"

"The same, monsieur."

The two gentlemen regarded each other narrowly for an instant; then,
still smiling, Captain Salt presented his letter, and stood tapping
the deck with the toe of his square-pointed shoe and looking amiably
about him while the Commodore glanced at the seal, broke it, and
began to read.

At the first sentence the muscles of M. de la Pailletine's forehead
contracted slightly.

"Just as I expected," said the Englishman to himself, as he stole a
glance. But he continued to wear his air of good-fellowship, and his
teeth, which were white as milk and quite even, showed all the time.

Meanwhile the Commodore's brow did not clear. He was a wiry, tall
man, of beautiful manners and a singularly urbane demeanour, but he
could not hide the annoyance which this letter caused him.
He finished it, turned abruptly to the beginning, and read it through
again; then looked at Captain Salt with a shade of severity on his
face. "Sir," he said, in a carefully regulated voice, "you may count
on my obeying his Majesty's commands to the letter." He laid some
stress on the two words "commands" and "letter."

"I thank you, monsieur," answered the Englishman, without allowing
himself to show that he perceived this.

"I am ordered"--again the word "ordered" was slightly emphasised--"I
am ordered to make you welcome on board my galley. Therefore I must
ask you to consider yourself at home here for so long as it may
please you to stay."

He bowed again, but very stiffly, nor did he offer to shake hands.
Captain Salt regarded him with his head tilted a little to one side,
and his lips pursed up as if he were whistling silently. As a matter
of fact he was whispering to himself, "You shall rue this, my
gentleman!" But aloud he asked the somewhat puzzling question:

"Is that all, monsieur?"

"Why, yes," answered M. de la Pailletine, "except that you need have
no doubt I shall treat you with the respect which is your due, or
rather--"

"Pray proceed."

"--Or rather, with the respect which his Majesty thinks is your due."

"And which you do not."

"Excuse me, sir; I do not venture to set up my opinion against that
of King Lewis."

"Yes, yes, of course; but, monsieur, I was trying to get at your own
feelings. You do not think that a man who enlists against his own
country, even on the side of his rightful King, can be entitled to
any respect?"

"Excuse me--" began the Commodore; but Captain Salt interrupted with
a gentle wave of the hand.

"Tut, tut, my dear sir! Pray do not imagine that I resent this
expression of your feelings. On the contrary, I am grateful to you
for treating me so frankly. I have consolations. Your sovereign"--
he pointed to the letter which M. de la Pailletine was folding up and
placing in his breast-pocket--"has a more intelligent sense of my
merits and my honour."

"Doubtless, monsieur," the Commodore answered; "but permit me to
suggest that the discussion of these matters is out of place on deck.
Suffer me, therefore, to conduct you to my cabin, which is at your
disposal while you choose to honour us."

The Englishman bowed and followed his host below. Nor could
Tristram, who had heard every sentence of their conversation, feel
sufficiently thankful that he had finished painting the cabin windows
three days before, and was not obliged to expose his face to the
chance of recognition. And yet it is doubtful if he would have been
recognised, so direly had tribulation altered him. He finished his
work for the morning with less artistry than usual, and was drawn
upon deck shortly before the dinner-hour, by which time the galley's
complement was brought on board for a short cruise. As Tristram rose
and fell to his oar, that afternoon, he heard his father's voice just
over his head, and then the Commodore's answering it. Their tones
were not cordial; but their feet were pacing side by side, and it was
obvious that the Englishman had already in some measure abated the
Commodore's dislike.

Indeed, in the course of the next week Tristram learnt enough to be
sure that his father was making steady progress in the affections of
the officers of the galley. At first there is little doubt that the
Captain was moved to capture their good will from a merely vague
desire, common to all men of his character, to stand well in the
opinion of everybody he met. He had arrived at Saint Germains, and
had ridden thence to meet King James, who was returning from Calais
in a dog's temper over the failure of the mutinous ships to meet him
at that port. Captain Salt presented the Earl's letter, and by
depicting the mutiny in colours which his imagination supplied,
laying stress on the enthusiasm of the crews, and declaring that the
success of their plot was delayed rather than destroyed by the
cunning of the usurper, he contrived to inspire hope again in the
breast of the cantankerous and exiled monarch, who kept him at his
side during the rest of the journey back to Paris, and there
introduced him to the favour of King Lewis. The latter monarch, who
happened to be bored, asked Captain Salt what he could do for him.

Captain Salt, remembering the Earl's promise, suggested that a
descent on the English coast might be made from Dunkirk, if his
Majesty were still disposed to befriend the unfortunate House of
Stuart.

King Lewis yawned, remembered that he had a certain number of galleys
languishing at Dunkirk for want of exercise, and suggested that
Captain Salt had better go and see for himself what they were likely
to effect.

Captain Salt went. His main purpose was to live in comfortable
quarters at the King's expense, while awaiting for the promised
letter from the Earl of Marlborough. On the eighth day after his
arrival, a small fishing-smack with a green pennant came racing past
the two castles at the entrance of Dunkirk pier, slackened her
main-sheet, spun down between the forts with the wind astern,
rounded, and cast anchor in the Royal Basin. Her crew then lowered a
little cockleshell of a dinghy, which she carried inboard, and a
tanned, red-bearded man pulled straight for the Commodore's galley.

He bore a letter addressed to Captain Roderick Salt. It was written
in cipher, but read as follows:

Dear S.,--Portland suspected you and had you followed. I saw his
eye upon you during your last interview with William. It was
clever to get through, nor can I discover how you managed it: for
the account given by your pursuers is plainly absurd. I've been
turning over their cock-and-bull story, which finds credence
here, and cannot fit it with the probabilities. Yet they seem
William's men. I find that the horse on which one of them
returned is not the same as that upon which he rode away; nor
does their narrative account for this. But the main point is
that you are safe. By the way, I hope you have kept your son at
your side; for I have now received the information about which I
dropped you some hints. It appears that he inherits from a
great-uncle (one Silvanus Tellworthy) certain American estates,
of which you and a Captain Runacles, of Harwich, are the legal
administrators. I fancy this has been kept from you; and, if so,
a descent upon Harwich may be used to furnish you with a
provision for your old age. Still, there is a present danger
that you may be declared a traitor, and your goods confiscate,
which would spoil all. This (since naught has been proved
against you, and the aim of your journey not known) you may avert
by keeping your eyes open at Dunquerque, and writing a report of
it to Wm. Such a report, aptly drawn, may not only check
Portland, but justify me, as knowing your intent from the start,
and that it was a move for Wm's, good.--M.

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