A Modern Telemachus

This, however, she declined, and only accepted the services of the gentlemen so far as to have her passports renewed, as was needful, since they were to be conveyed by the vessel of an independent power, though always an ally of France.

The tartane was a beautiful object, a one-decked, single-masted vessel, with a long bowsprit, and a huge lateen sail like a wing, and the children fell in love with her at first sight.  Estelle was quite sure that she was just such a ship as Mentor borrowed for Télémachus; but the poor maids were horribly frightened, and Babette might be heard declaring she had never engaged herself to be at the mercy of the waves, like a bit of lemon peel in a glass of eau sucrée.

‘You may return,’ said Madame de Bourke.  ‘I compel no one to share our dangers and hardships.’

But Babette threw herself on her knees, and declared that nothing should ever separate her from Madame!  She was a good creature, but she could not deny herself the luxury of the sobs and tears that showed to all beholders the extent of her sacrifice.

Madame de Bourke knew that there would be considerable discomfort in a vessel so little adapted for passengers, and with only one small cabin, which the captain, who spoke French, resigned to her use.  It would only, however, be for a short time, and though it was near the end of October, the blue expanse of sea was calm as only the Mediterranean can be, so that she trusted that no harm would result to those who would have to spend the night on dock.

It was a beautiful evening which the little Genoese vessel left the harbour and Cette receded in the distance, looking fairer the farther it was left behind.  The children were put to bed as soon as they could be persuaded to cease from watching the lights in the harbour and the phosphorescent wake of the vessel in the water.

That night and the next day were pleasant and peaceful; there was no rough weather, and little sickness among the travellers.  Madame de Bourke congratulated herself on having escaped the horrors of the Pyrenean journey, and the Genoese captain assured her that unless the weather should change rapidly, they would wake in sight of the Spanish coast the next morning.  If the sea were not almost too calm, they would be there already.  The evening was again so delightful that the children were glad to hear that they would have again to return by sea, and Arthur, who somewhat shrank from his presentation to the Count, regretted that the end of the voyage was so near, though Ulysse assured him that ‘Mon papa would love him, because he could tell such charming stories,’ and Lanty testified that ‘M. le Comte was a mighty friendly gentleman.’

Arthur was lying asleep on deck, wrapped in his cloak, when he was awakened by a commotion among the sailors.  He started up and found that it was early morning, the sun rising above the sea, and the sailors all gazing eagerly in that direction.  He eagerly made his way to ask if they were in sight of land, recollecting, however, as he made the first step, that Spain lay to the west of them—not to the east.

He distinguished the cry from the Genoese sailors, ‘Ii Moro—Il Moro,’ in tones of horror and consternation, and almost at the same moment received a shock from Maître Hébert, who came stumbling against him.

‘Pardon, pardon, Monsieur; I go to prepare Madame!  It’s the accursed Moors.  Let me pass—miséricorde, what will become of us?’

Arthur struggled on in search of such of the crew as could speak French, but all were in too much consternation to attend to him, and he could only watch that to which their eyes were directed, a white sail, bright in the morning light, coming up with a rapidity strange and fearful in its precision, like a hawk pouncing on its prey, for it did not depend on its sails alone, but was propelled by oars.

The next moment Madame de Bourke was on deck, holding by the Abbé’s arm, and Estelle, her hair on her shoulders, clinging to her.  She looked very pale, but her calmness was in contrast to the Italian sailors, who were throwing themselves with gestures of despair, screaming out vows to the Madonna and saints, and shouting imprecations.  The skipper came to speak to her.  ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘I implore you to remain in your cabin.  After the first, you and all yours will be safe.  They cannot harm a French subject; alas! alas would it were so with us.’

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