The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
I swam off on a fragment of the vessel in order to try and gain your bark. You have saved my life, and I thank you,” continued Dantès. “I was lost when one of your sailors caught hold of my hair.”
“It was I,” said a sailor, of a frank and manly appearance; “and it was time, for you were sinking.”
“Yes,” returned Dantès, holding out his hand, “I thank you again.”
“I almost hesitated, though,” replied the sailor; “you looked more like a brigand than an honest man, with your beard six inches and your hair a foot long.”
Dantès recollected that his hair and beard had not been cut all the time he was at the Château d’If.
“Yes,” said he, “in a moment of danger I made a vow to our Lady of the Grotto not to cut my hair or beard for ten years if I were saved; but today the vow expires.”
“Now what are we to do with you?” said the captain.
“Alas! anything you please. My captain is dead; I have barely escaped; but I am a good sailor. Leave me at the first port you make; I shall be sure to find employment.”
“Do you know the Mediterranean?”
“I have sailed over it since my childhood.”
“You know the best harbours?”
“There are few ports that I could not enter or leave with my eyes blinded.”
“I say, captain,” said the sailor, who had cried “Courage!” to Dantès, “if what he says is true, what hinders his staying with us?”
“If he says true,” said the captain doubtingly. “But in his present condition he will promise anything, and take his chance of keeping it afterwards.”
“I will do more than I promise,” said Dantès.
“We shall see,” returned the other, smiling.
“Where are you going to?” asked Dantès.
“To Leghorn.”
“Then why, instead of tacking so frequently, do you not sail nearer the wind?”
“Because we should run straight on to the island of Rion.”
“You shall pass it by twenty fathoms.”
“Take the helm, and let us see what you know.”
The young man took the helm, ascertaining by a slight pressure if the vessel answered the rudder, and seeing that, without being a first-rate sailer, she yet was tolerably obedient,—
“To the braces,” said he.
The four seamen, who composed the crew, obeyed, whilst the pilot looked on.
“Haul taut.”
They obeyed.
“Belay.”
This order was also executed, and the vessel passed, as Dantès had predicted, twenty fathoms to the right.
“Bravo!” said the captain.
“Bravo!” repeated the sailors.
And they all regarded with astonishment this man whose eye had recovered an intelligence, and his body a vigour they were far from suspecting.
“You see,” said Dantès, quitting the helm, “I shall be of some use to you, at least, during the voyage. If you do not want me at Leghorn, you can leave me there, and I will pay out of the first wages I get for my food and the clothes you lend me.”
“Ah,” said the captain, “we can agree very well, if you are reasonable.”
“Give me what you give the others, and all will be arranged,” returned Dantès.
“That’s not fair,” said the seaman who had saved Dantès; “for you know more than we do.”
“What is that to you, Jacopo?” returned the captain. “Every one is free to ask what he pleases.”
“That’s true,” replied Jacopo. “I only made a remark.”
“Well, you would do much better to lend him a jacket and a pair of trousers, if you have them.”
“No,” said Jacopo; “but I have a shirt and a pair of trousers.”
“That is all I want,” interrupted Dantès.
Jacopo dived into the hold, and soon returned with what Edmond wanted.
“Now, then, do you wish for anything else?” said the patron.
“A piece of bread and another glass of the capital rum I tasted, for I have not eaten or drunk for a long time.”
He had not tasted food for forty hours.
A piece of bread was brought, and Jacopo offered him the gourd.
“Larboard your helm,” cried the captain to the steersman.
Dantès glanced to the same side as he lifted the gourd to his mouth; but his hand stopped.
“Halloa! what’s the matter at the Château d’If?” said the captain.
A small white cloud, which had attracted Dantès’ attention, crowned the summit of the bastion of the Château d’If.
At the same moment the faint report of a gun was heard. The sailors looked at one another.
“What is this?” asked the captain.
“A prisoner has escaped from the Château d’If, and they are firing the alarm gun,” replied Dantès.
The captain glanced at him, but he had lifted the rum to his lips, and was drinking it with so much composure, that his suspicions, if he had any, died away.
“At any rate,” murmured he, “if it be, so much the better, for I have made a rare acquisition.”
Under pretence of being fatigued, Dantès asked to take the helm; the steersman, enchanted to be relieved, looked at the captain, and the latter by a sign indicated that he might abandon it to his new comrade. Dantès could thus keep his eyes on Marseilles.
“What is the day of the month?” asked he of Jacopo, who sat down beside him.
“The 28th of February!”
“In what year?”
“In what year—you ask me in what year?”
“Yes,” replied the young man, “I ask you in what year!”
“You have forgotten then?”
“I got such a fright last night,” replied Dantès, smiling, “that I have almost lost my memory, I ask you what year is it?”
“The year 1829,” returned Jacopo.
It was fourteen years day for day since Dantès’ arrest.
He was nineteen when he entered the Château d’If; he was thirty-three when he escaped.
A sorrowful smile passed over his face; he asked himself what had become of Mercédès, who must believe him dead.
Then his eyes lighted up with hatred as he thought of the three men who had caused him so long and wretched a captivity.
He renewed against Danglars, Fernand, and Villefort the oath of implacable vengeance he had made in his dungeon.
The oath was no longer a vain menace, for the fastest sailer in the Mediterranean would have been unable to overtake the little tartane, that with every stitch of canvas set was flying before the wind to Leghorn.
DANTÉS