CHAPTER III
ABOARD LE DAUPHIN.
The morning dawned moist and cold, with a stiff westerly wind. Justbefore daylight a small boat pushed off the low beach, scraped alongthe shallows, skirted the western edge of the island which there liesendwise across the harbor, and put me aboard le Dauphin.
I alone had no part in all the noisy preparation for departure, but satabsorbed in thought near an open port listening to the straining of themasts, the flapping sails, the low complaining beat of thewind-tormented waters.
Above the creak of the windlass raising anchor, I could catch snatchesof whispered conversation just outside the port. The two men werebeyond my range of vision. One seemed to be tossing in a boat, theother hung down the vessel's side by a ladder. I made out,disjointedly:
"Along in September--as soon as you return--all will be inreadiness--two thousand Creeks, Chickasaws, Natchez--we ought to haveno difficulty--Yvard--Spanish ships. The fall of Biloxi will be agreat thing for us." And much more that I could not hear clearly.
But I had heard enough to know there was some truth in the rumor of aSpanish-Indian alliance, and an attack on Biloxi. And the name Yvard,being unusual, clung somewhat to my memory.
I immediately ran on deck and sauntered over towards that side, seekingto discover the traitor. No one was there, only a little group ofofficers walking about; towards the shore were the retreating outlinesof a light boat. I knew none of these officers, any one of whom mighthave been the man I overheard, and so I durst ask no questions. Icould therefore confide in no one on board for fear of making amistake, but must rely upon giving Bienville prompt warning upon myreturn, and I must needs hide my reluctance and mingle with officersand men, for perchance by this means I might uncover the scoundrel.
Although I made free with the men, pitched quoits, and joined in theirrough play, I trusted none, suspected all. No, not all. There weretwo young fellows whom I was many times on the point of calling to myconfidence, but, thinking it wiser, kept my own counsel. Treason couldever wear a smiling front and air of frankness.
Levert was a man much older than myself, of gloomy and taciturnmanners, yet something there was so masterful about him men obeyed himwhether they would or no. A more silent man I never knew, yetcourteous and stately withal, and well liked by the men. But it was toAchille Broussard my heart went out in those days of loneliness. Hisalmost childish lightness of disposition and his friendly ways won mecompletely, and we became fast comrades. A noble looking lad, with thestrength of a young Titan, and the blonde curls of a woman. During thelong idle hours of the afternoon it was his custom to banter me for about at swords, and Levert generally acted as our master of the lists.At first he was much my superior with the foils, for during his dayswith the Embassy at Madrid, and in the schools at Paris, he had learnedthose hundreds of showy and fancy little tricks of which we in theforests knew nothing. However, I doubted not that on the field ourrougher ways and sterner methods would count for quite as much.
With all the five long weeks of daily practice, I gathered many thingsfrom him, until one day we had an experience which made us lay thefoils aside for good.
We had been sitting after the dinner hour, discussing his early life inParis. He wound up with his usual declaration, "As for myself, give methe gorgeous plays, the fetes and smiles of the Montespan, rather thanthe prayers, the masses and the sober gowns of de Maintenon. And nowit is your turn, comrade; let us know something of your escapades, yourdays of folly in dear old Paris."
"I have never seen Paris," I answered simply.
"What! Never been to Paris? Then, man, you have never lived. Butwhere have you spent all your days?"
"In the colonies--Quebec, Montreal, Biloxi. But now I will have anopportunity, for I am going--"
I had almost told something of my mission, ere I checked a too fluentconfidence.
Levert, who had been pacing up and down the deck in his absorbed andinattentive way, dropped his blade across my shoulder and challenged meto the foils.
"No, it is too early yet," Achille replied, "besides, we were talkingof other things. As you were saying, comrade, you go--?"
"Oh, you two talk too much," Levert broke in again, "let us have about; I'm half a mind I can handle a foil myself. A still tongue, aclear head and a sharp blade are the tools of Fortune."
It seemed almost that he had twice interrupted purposely to keep mefrom talking. I thought I read that deeper meaning in his eyes.Somehow I grew to distrust him from that moment. What consequence wasit to him of what I spoke?
It was not Levert's business to govern my tongue for roe, so I onlysaid:
"Nay, we'll try our skill somewhat later; not now," and resumed myconversation with Achille.
While his manner showed a concern I deemed the matter little towarrant, yet it did make me consider, so I determined not to speaktruly of myself.
"Well, now, comrade, of your own intrigues. You were saying--?"
"Nay, nothing of that kind. I journey to Paris simply for my ownpleasure." Levert, who half listened at a distance knew I was going toheed his advice, though I misdoubted his motive, and again took up hispacing to and fro.
"Aye, my dear Captain, but 'tis a long trip for such an errand?"
"Yes, quite a long trip, but I weary of the life at Biloxi, and wouldamuse myself for a while in France."
"But the garrison at Biloxi; is that strong enough to spare so good asoldier? then the Indians, do you not fear them?"
I glanced at him quickly, only half betraying my thought, but repliednonchalantly:
"No, the Indians are quiet, at least so our scouts tell us, and as forthe state of the garrison, you were long enough ashore to know we arestrong."
"Ah, then, there is another motive; a woman. Come, is it not true?Confess?"
I blushed in spite of myself; it was an idle way I had, for I had seenlittle of women. My confusion threw him completely off the track; hadI only guessed it, would have taken refuge in that device sooner.
"No, no, comrade; you are wrong"--but still somehow my color came andwent like a novice out of the convent. His good-humored raillerycontinued until I became annoyed in earnest, yet was glad he took thematter so seriously. When Levert passed us again on his walk I spoketo him.
"Now, my dear Levert, we will try our fortune with the foils if itpleases you."
"No, my humor is past. Do you try with Broussard; methinks he hadrather the better of you yesterday. You agree, Broussard?"
"Yes, yes," he replied, eagerly, "let us at it."
He fenced rather worse than usual, so I had no trouble in touching himas I pleased. This begat an irritation of manner, and noticing it Isuggested we leave off.
He would not hear to it; I saw the color slowly leave his face; histhin lips curled back and showed his teeth, until, fearing a seriousoutbreak, I stepped back as if I would lay aside the foil. He pressedme close, so close indeed I could not if I would drop my guard. Hetouched me once or twice.
"I call the bout a draw," declared Levert, who had himself observedBroussard's unusual energy.
"Nay, not so, not so; he gives back. I've much the better," and helunged at me so vigorously I was forced to act with more aggression.The button snapped from the point of his foil; I cared not, and heaffected not to see it, though something made me sure he realized hisadvantage. I determined now to show him a trick of my own.
From my youth I had the peculiar faculty of using one hand quite aswell as the other, and had often practiced changing my sword swiftlyfrom right to left. It was a simple feat, much more showy thandifficult, yet exceedingly bewildering to an adversary. In thisinstance it afforded me an easy means of reaching his undefended side.So I feigned to be driven back, and watching for a more headlong andcareless rush, my weapon was apparently twisted from my hand and for aninstant seemed to hang suspended in the air. I caught it in my leftand before he recovered his footing had thrown his foil from him,sending it whizzing overboar
d. It took but an instant to press mypoint firmly against his chest, as he stood panting and disarmed.Never was man more surprised.
"Bravely done," cried Levert.
"A most foul and dishonorable trick," Achille snarled.
"Not so," Levert corrected him gravely, looking at me to observe theeffect of the insult. I stood still at guard, but made no move.
"Broussard, you are angry now, and I'll take no heed of your heatedwords. But to-morrow you must make a gentleman's amends."
"Tush, tush," Levert interposed, "'tis the quarrel of a child. Hemeans nothing."
Broussard said no more, but looked surly and ill pleased. I wassecretly elated at the success of my coup against such a skilledswordsman, and only remarked quietly:
"Broussard, when your anger has passed I trust you will do me the honorof an apology."
Behind it all I cared little, for I felt myself his master with hischosen weapon and could afford to be generous. He came up in verymanly fashion, after a time, and craved my forgiveness, but we playedat foils no more.
The lookouts were beginning to watch for land, I growing more and moreimpatient as the end of our voyage drew near. And now I had muchleisure to contemplate, and wonder at the strange turn of fortune whichhad called upon me to play a part in the affairs of state, though whatthe drama was, and what my lines might be, I could only guess. Thestory of Colonel D'Ortez, too, furnished me much food for reflectionthese long starlit nights, when I sat in my favorite seat in the veryprow of the vessel. There would I sit night after night, watching thephosphorescent waves rippling against the vessel, gleaming fitful inthe gloom; there observe the steadfast stars, and seem alone withdarkness and with God.
One wet morning, pacing the slippery deck, the sailing master called tome:
"See, sir, yonder dim outline to the nor'east? 'Tis the Norman coast;this night, God willing, we sleep in Dieppe."
My errand now consumed my entire attention, so I thought no more of mycompanions of the voyage, bidding them both good-night before we hadyet landed.