The Knight of Malta

After a long silence he heard the dry, strident laugh of the pirate ring through the galley. “Eh, eh! comrade,” said Pog, in the tone of irony natural to him, “it is quite right to say that at night mad dogs bark at the moon! Have you understood one word of all the nonsense I have just uttered to you? I would have been a good actor, on my faith I would; do you not think so, comrade?”

“I have not understood much, to tell the truth, Captain Pog, except that you have not been always what you are now. We are alike in that. I was a servant in a college before being a pirate.”

Pog, without making a reply, made a gesture of his hand commanding silence. Then, listening with attention on the side next to the sea, he said: “It seems to me I hear a boat.”

“Without doubt,” said Trimalcyon.

One of the watchmen on the rambade uttered three distinct cries, the first separated from the two last by quite a long interval; the last two, however, were close together.

The patron of the boat replied to this cry in the opposite manner; that is to say, he uttered at first two short, quick cries, followed by a prolonged cry.

“Those are persons from the chebec, and the spy, no doubt,” said Trimalcyon.

In fact the long-boat was already at the first seat of the rowers. The spy climbed to the deck of the galley.

“What news from Hyères?” said Pog to him.

“Bad for Marseilles, captain; the galleys of the Marquis de Brézé, coming from Naples, anchored there yesterday.”

“Who told you that?” asked Pog.

“Two bargemasters. I entered a hostelry to beg an alms, and these bargemasters were talking about it. Some mule-drivers, coming from the west, heard the same thing at St. Tropez.”

“And what rumour on the coast?”

“They are alarmed at La Ciotat.”

Pog waved his hand, and the spy retired.

“What is to be done, Captain Pog?” cried Trimalcyon. “There are only blows to be gained at Marseilles; the squadron of the Marquis de Brézé protects the port. To attack an enemy unseasonably is to do him good instead of harm; we can do nothing at Marseilles.”

“Nothing,” said Captain Pog.

“Then La Ciotat invites us; the swine, those citizens, are alarmed, it is true, but, Sardanapalus! what does that matter? The little birds tremble when they see the hawk ready to pounce upon them; but do their terrors make his claws any the less sharp, or his beak less cutting? What do you say to it, Captain Pog?”

“To La Ciotat, to-morrow at sunset, if the wind ceases. We will surprise these people in the midst of a feast; we will change their cries of joy into cries of death!” said Pog, in a hollow voice.

“Sardanapalus! these citizens, they say, have hens on golden eggs hidden in their houses. They say that the convent of the Minimes brothers is filled with costly wines, without counting the money of the farm-rent that the farmers bring to these rich do-nothings at Christmas. We will find their cash-box well furnished.”

“To La Ciotat,” said Pog; “The wind may change in our favour. I am going to return on board the Red Galleon; at the first signal, follow my manoeuvre.”

“So be it, Captain Pog,” replied Trimalcyon.

While the pirates, ambushed in that solitary bay, are preparing to surprise and attack the inhabitants of La Ciotat, we will return to Cape l’Aigle, where we left the watchman occupied in drawing up the defence of the coast.

CHAPTER XXVIII. HADJI

Christmas had at last arrived

Although the fear of the Barbary pirates had kept the city and the coast in alarm for several days, the people began to feel safe from attack.

The north wind had lasted so long and had blown with such violence that they did not suppose the pirate vessels dared put to sea in such weather, and it seemed still less probable that they would anchor in a harbour on their seashore, which was exactly what Pog and Trimalcyon had done.

The security felt by the inhabitants was fatal to them.

Forty hours at least were required for the galley of the commander to sail from Cape Corsica to La Ciotat. The tempest had ceased only the evening before, and Pierre des Anbiez had been compelled to wait until Christmas morning to put to sea.

On the contrary, the galleys of the pirates were able to reach La Ciotat in three hours; the island of Port-Cros, where they had taken refuge, was only about six leagues distant.

But, as we have said, fear was no longer felt along the coast; besides, they reckoned upon the well-known vigilance of the watchman, Master Peyrou.

He would give the alarm in case of danger; two signals, corresponding with the sentry-box on Cape l’Aigle, had been established, one at a point opposite the bay, the other on the terrace of Maison-Forte.

At the slightest alarm all the men of La Ciotat, capable of bearing arms, were to assemble in the town hall, there to take orders from the consul, and hasten to the point which might be attacked.

A chain had been extended across the entrance of the port, and several large fishing-boats, armed with swivel-guns, were anchored a short distance from this chain. Finally, two coxswains of a long-boat, occupied a whole morning in exploring the environage, had upon their return increased the general feeling of security by announcing that not a sail was to be seen for a distance of three or four leagues.

It was about two hours after midday. A sharp wind from the east had taken the place of the north wind of the preceding days. The sky was clear, the sun bright for a winter day, and the sea beautiful, although there was a gentle swell.

A child carrying a basket on his head began to climb, singing all the while, the steep rocks which led to the house of the watchman.

Suddenly, hearing the moaning of a dog, the child stopped, looked around him with curiosity, saw nothing, and went on his way.

The cry was repeated, and this time it seemed nearer and more pitiful.

Raimond V. had been hunting all day on that side, and thinking that one of the baron’s dogs had fallen into some quagmire, the child set his basket down on the ground, climbed up a large piece of a huge rock which projected some distance over the road, and listened with attention.

The cries of the dog grew fainter, yet sounded more plaintive than before.

The child hesitated no longer. As much to do something which would please his master as to merit a small recompense, he began diligently to search for the poor animal, and soon disappeared among the tall rocks.

The dog seemed sometimes nearer, and sometimes more distant; at last the cries suddenly ceased.

The child had left the path. While he was listening, calling, crying, and whistling, Hadji, the Bohemian, appeared behind a rock.

Thanks to his skill as a juggler, he had imitated the cries of the dog, so as to distract the child from his duty and take him away from his basket. For three days he had been wandering in the midst of this solitude. Not daring to appear again at Maison-Forte, he was expecting every day the arrival of the pirates, who had been instructed by his second message.

Knowing that every morning provisions were carried to Peyrou, Hadji, who had been watching some hours for the purveyor, employed, as we have said, this stratagem to make him abandon his basket.

The Bohemian opened the bottle-case carefully provided by the majordomo Laramée, took out a large bottle covered with straw, and poured in it a small quantity of a white powder, – a powerful soporific, whose effects had already been felt by the worthy Luquin Trinquetaille.

The Bohemian had lived for two days on the small amount of food he had carried away from Maison-Forte; but, fearing to excite suspicion, he had the courage not to touch the appetising viands intended for the watchman. He restored the bottle to its place and disappeared.

The child, after having searched for the stray dog in vain, returned, took up his basket, and finally arrived at the summit of the promontory.

Master Peyrou passed for such a formidable, mysterious being, that his young purveyor did not dare say a word about the cries of the dog; he deposited the basket on the edge of the last stone of the steps, and saying, in a trembling voice, “The good God keep you, Master Peyrou,” descended as fast as his legs could carry him, holding his cap in both hands.

The watchman smiled at the child’s fear, rose from his seat, went for the basket, and set it down near him. The provisions inside smacked of the Christmas festivity.