The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
see, M. Morrel,” said he, “we were somewhere between Cape Blanc and Cape Bogador, sailing with a fair breeze south-south-west after a week’s calm, when Captain Gaumard comes up to me,—I was at the helm, I should tell you,—and says, ‘Penelon, what do you think of those clouds that are arising there?’
“I was just then looking at them myself. ‘What do I think, captain? why I think that they are rising faster than they have any business, and that they would not be so black if they did not mean mischief.’
“‘That’s my opinion too,’ said the captain, ‘and I’ll take precautions accordingly. We are carrying too much canvas. Holloa! all hands to slacken sail and lower the flying jib.’
“It was time; the squall was on us and the vessel began to heel.
“‘Ah,’ said the captain, ‘we have still too much canvas set; all hands to lower the mainsail!’ Five minutes after it was down, and we sailed under mizzen-topsails and topgallant-sails.
“‘Well, Penelon,’ said the captain, ‘what makes you shake your head?’
“‘Why,’ I says, ‘I don’t think that we shall stop here.’
“‘I think you are right,’ answered he; ‘we shall have a gale.’
“‘A gale! more than that, we shall have a tempest, or I know nothing about it.’
“You could see the wind coming like the dust at Montredon: luckily the captain understood his business.
“‘All hands take in two reefs in the topsails,’ cried the captain; ‘let go the bowlines, brace to, lower the topgallant-sails, haul out the reef-tackles on the yards.’”
“That was not enough for those latitudes,” said the Englishman:“I should have taken four reefs in the topsails, and lowered the mizzen.”
His firm, sonorous, and unexpected voice made every one start. Penelon put his hand over his eyes, and then stared at the man who thus criticised the manœuvres of his captain.
“We did better than that, sir,” said the old sailor, with a certain respect; “we put the helm to the wind to run before the tempest; ten minutes after we struck our topsails and scudded under bare poles.”
“The vessel was very old to risk that,” said the Englishman.
“Eh, it was that that wrecked us; after having been tossed about for twelve hours, we sprung a leak. ‘Penelon,’ said the captain, ‘I think we are sinking; give me the helm, and go down into the hold.’
“I gave him the helm, and descended; there was already three feet of water. I cried, ‘All hands to the pumps!’ but it was too late, and it seemed the more we pumped the more came in.
“‘Ah!’ said I, after four hours’ work, ‘since we are sinking, let us sink; we can die but once.’
“‘That’s the example you set, Penelon,’ cries the captain, ‘very well, wait a minute.’
“He went into his cabin, and came back with a brace of pistols.
“‘I will blow the brains out of the first man who leaves the pump,’ said he.”
“Well done!” said the Englishman.
“There’s nothing gives you so much courage as good reasons,” continued the sailor; “and during that time the wind had abated, and the sea gone down, but the water kept rising; not much, only two inches an hour, but still it rose. Two inches an hour does not seem much, but in twelve hours that makes two feet, and three we had before, that makes five.
“‘Come,’ said the captain, ‘we have done all in our power, and M. Morrel will have nothing to reproach us with; we have tried to save the ship, let us now save ourselves. To the boats, my lads, as quick as you can.’
“Now,” continued Penelon, “you see, M. Morrel, a sailor is attached to his ship, but still more to his life: so we did not wait to be told twice; the more so, that the ship was sinking under us, and seemed to say, Get along, save yourselves.
“We soon launched the boat, and all eight of us got into it. The captain descended the last, or, rather, he did not descend, he would not quit the vessel; so I took him round the waist, and threw him into the boat, and then I jumped after him. It was time, for just as I jumped, the deck burst with a noise like the broadside of a man-of-war. Ten minutes after she pitched forward, then the other way, spun round and round, and then good-bye to the Pharaon. As for us, we were three days without anything to eat or drink, so that we began to think of drawing lots who should feed the rest, when we saw La Gironde; we made signals of distress, she perceived us, made for us, and took us all on board. There now, M. Morrel, that’s the whole truth, on the honour of a sailor; is not it true, you fellows there?”
A general murmur of approbation showed that the narrator had faithfully detailed their misfortunes and sufferings.
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