Avarice - Anger: Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"'A privateer! to be a privateer! When this idea presented itself to my mind my heart bounded with hope.

"'It seemed to amount to a revelation.

"'It offered an outlet for the feverish ardour that was devouring me.

"'My one object in life now was to save you from poverty, and ensure you the comforts of life, both now and in years to come, — to secure sufficient wealth to make it possible for you to marry the man of your choice, some day. This, and to find a career in which my powers could be best utilised.

"'How could I do this more effectually than by becoming a privateer?

"'The prize-money gained by privateers often amounts to large sums, so it was quite possible that I might succeed in amassing a very comfortable little fortune for you; besides, where could I hope to find a life that would suit me better, or even as well as the daring, exciting, adventurous life of a corsair?

"'Contention and strife were like the breath of life to me. Resistance exasperated me to frenzy; peril only incited me to greater efforts; the presence of danger set my blood to boiling. Madness seized me, and my capabilities seemed to increase in power in proportion to the number of my enemies.

"'Nor was this all, my child. As I have remarked before, cruelty, or oppression, or treachery, enraged me well-nigh to madness, and against whom should I fight if I became a corsair? Against a country I abhorred, — against a country that, impelled by hatred, greed, or ambition, as the case might be, had pursued France with the utmost vindictiveness for years, hesitating at nothing, — now trying to ruin us by flooding our country with counterfeit assignats, now torturing our brave soldiers to madness, even to death, in her horrible prison hulks, — in short, England!

"'England! In spite of the despair that overwhelms me as I write, the mere name of that country (which I hate with an even more mortal hatred since the dastardly attempt of which you so narrowly escaped becoming the victim) brings a hot flush of anger to my cheek; my wrath kindles again, and —

"'But forgive me, forgive me, my poor child, forgive me for thus grieving your tender and ingenuous heart, which is incapable of aught like hatred.

"'I did feel it necessary, however, to explain all the reasons that actuated me in entering upon the only career that seemed open to me.

"'My decision made, I kissed you farewell while you were sleeping, and departed in company with Segoffin.'"

Onésime's reading was here interrupted by a despairing sob that Sabine could no longer repress.

CHAPTER XXII.

CONCLUSION

Sabine had been deeply touched by the opening paragraphs of her father's letter.

Cloarek's simple and straightforward confession, his deep remorse at the ebullition of temper which had been the cause of his wife's death, his resolve to expiate his faults, or, rather, to make them assist in ensuring his daughter's future happiness, the paternal love which dominated every word and deed, all combined to arouse a feeling of tender commiseration for misfortunes which had been due, in a great measure, at least, to peculiarities of temperament; and seeing the strong impression that had been made on the young girl, the others saw a ray of hope.

Segoffin and the housekeeper exchanged inquiring glances, but seemed to silently agree that it would be advisable to make no comment, but leave Sabine to the influence of her own reflections.

But after a few moments, Suzanne, leaning toward her nephew, whispered in his ear:

"All is not lost yet. Go on, go on, my dear Onésime." So Onésime continued as follows:

"'Segoffin and I went to Dieppe, where we shipped as common sailors on a privateer, for we realised that we must both serve an apprenticeship at our new trade. We made several voyages in that capacity. In my leisure moments I studied mathematics and the art of navigation assiduously, so I should be able to command a vessel myself when the necessary practical knowledge had been acquired.

"'My apprenticeship lasted two years, during which we were engaged in a number of bloody conflicts. At the end of that time I was offered the position of mate aboard a well-known privateer. After eighteen months spent in this way, I had become so well known that a ship owner offered me the command of a vessel called the Hell-hound, that he was fitting out.

"'Strange to say, I was never wounded, though I took part in so many desperate conflicts. I received my first wound on coming to your assistance the other night.

"'I dare not tell you the cause to which I attribute this singular immunity from danger. I should be obliged to mention your mother's name, and that would revive your grief, and possibly it is only a superstitious fancy, after all.

"'Fate has not been equally kind to Segoffin, unfortunately. He has received several wounds, and, in boarding a vessel during our last fight, he lost an eye by a blow from a pike. No words could do justice to this worthy man's wonderful devotion. I no longer regard him as a servant, but as a friend.

"'One more brief explanation, my child.

"'I knew your affection for me. I knew, too, that your nervous system had received a severe shock at the time of your poor mother's death, so I resolved to save you from constant anxiety by concealing my real occupation from you. So it was agreed between Segoffin and me that we should explain our frequent absences by pretending that we were travelling around the country selling dry goods. I also arranged that the letters you sent to the different towns agreed upon should be forwarded to Dieppe.

"'When I returned after a cruise, I got these letters, and dated my replies from different towns, where I had previously arranged to have them mailed.

"'Such were some of the many precautions that I was obliged to take to conceal the truth from you and allay any suspicions that might be excited in your mind.

"'Forgive these deceptions. They seemed to me necessary. That excuse will, I am sure, avail me.

"'Two years ago the doctors assured me that the sea air would be very beneficial to you, so I purchased our present home and established you in it. Our home being a long way from Dieppe, the port from which I usually sail, my secret has been carefully guarded, up to this time, thanks to my assumed name, Captain l'Endurci, and neither you nor Suzanne have ever suspected that the famous corsair, whose bloody exploits so excited your horror, was your father, Yvon Cloarek.

"'And now, my darling child, you know all. I have not made this confession with any hope of changing your resolution; I can see that my presence will henceforth be extremely painful to you, but I could not leave you for ever without removing the veil of mystery that has enshrouded my conduct up to the present time.

"'And now, farewell, and for ever, my beloved daughter.

"'My only consolation is the thought that your future happiness is well-nigh certain. You love, and you are loved in return by a generous and noble-hearted man; Suzanne will be another mother to you, and I leave you my good and faithful Segoffin.

"'My notary has received full instructions in relation to your marriage contract. I wish your marriage to take place on the first of next month, so I may be with you in thought on that happy day.

"'Once more farewell, my idolised daughter. The tears are falling so fast, that I cannot see to write any more.

"'Your father, who loves you as he has always loved you,

    Yvon Cloarek.

"'Segoffin will tell you the cause of my hasty departure for Havre, and how I happened to return in time to rescue you from the wretches who were dragging you away."

When the reading of this letter was concluded, Sabine, who was very pale and who seemed to be deeply moved, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed softly.

Segoffin exchanged another meaning look with Suzanne, and then, reconquering his own emotion, said:

"Now, mademoiselle, with your permission, I will tell you how M. Yvon got here in time to save you."

And Sabine making no reply, the head gunner continued:

"That powdered gentleman, who was here the other day, Mlle. Sabine, was the owner of our vessel. He came to try to persuade M. Yvon to make another voyage. He had heard of a vessel laden with two millions in gold, that would soon be along, and offered us a chance of a stirring fight besides; but M. Yvon had promised you he would not leave you again, so he refused, whereupon the ship owner told your father that the ship's crew would certainly come for him, and take him away with them, whether or no. In order to prevent any such proceeding as that, which would have let the cat out of the bag, so far as you were concerned, we hurried off to Havre. Most of the crew were at a tavern there. They greeted M. Yvon with the wildest enthusiasm and delight, for he is as tenderly loved by these rough corsairs as he is by the members of his own family; for though he can be severe, if need be, he is also just and humane. There is more than one English captain, mademoiselle, whom M. Yvon has captured and then set free with all his personal belongings. And do you know why? Because the first question your father always asked a prisoner was, 'Have you a daughter?'

"If he answered in the affirmative," continued Segoffin, "he was all right, for, as M. Yvon often said to me, 'I love my little Sabine too much to hold a man who has a daughter, a prisoner.'

"So Mlle. Sabine, you have made many a father and daughter happy in England, without even suspecting it. But excuse me, I had almost forgotten what I started to tell you. Well, though the sailors were so glad to see your father again, they got very angry when they found out that he had no intention of going to sea again, and there was no such thing as inducing them to listen to reason. I have seen M. Yvon in a great peril many a time, but never did I see him show such courage as he did the other day, when he refused what would have been the crowning glory of his maritime career, and why? 'Because I have given my daughter my word,' he said. But this was not all. His refusal so infuriated the crew that some of them even went so far as to hint that if your father refused, it was because he was afraid to fight the famous English captain. He, M. Yvon, afraid! After that, Mlle. Sabine, he said to me, in a low tone, and with a melancholy smile that I shall never forget:

"'My affection for my daughter has been really put to the test for the first time in my life, and now I know that there is not a father in the world who loves his child more than I do.'"

"Go on, go on, Segoffin," pleaded Sabine, evidently deeply moved.

"When they ventured to accuse M. Yvon of cowardice, he coldly replied that his mind was made up, and that it was useless for them to insist further. A scene of the wildest excitement followed, and some of the men shouted: 'Let us take the captain, whether or no. The first mate can navigate the vessel, and when the captain sees the enemy, he'll change his mind fast enough.'

"They were all so excited that I don't know how the affair would have ended, had not an officer of the fort, who knew that the captain of the Hell-hound was at the tavern, come rushing in to tell M. Yvon that a fishing-smack had just come in and reported that a suspicious-looking schooner had been sighted from the cliffs, and that appearances seemed to indicate her intention of making a landing, as had been done at several other points along the coast. There being no war-ship in the harbour the officer came to implore the captain of the Hell-hound to go out and attack the schooner if she made any attempt to land. M. Yvon could not refuse, as it was in defence of his country that he was requested to give his services. We were soon aboard the brig; the wind was favourable, we weighed anchor, and were soon flying along in search of the schooner. Right here, Mlle. Sabine, I must tell you something that M. Yvon dared not confess in his letter. He speaks, you know, of a superstitious idea he had in connection with his never having been wounded. You must understand, Mlle. Sabine, that your poor father's life has been divided as it were into two parts, — one supremely happy, the part spent at home or in talking with me about you; the other desolation itself, the hours spent in thinking of your poor dear mother, whom he loved even more tenderly than he loves you, as Suzanne has told you a hundred times. The night she died, it so happened that he had dressed himself in Breton costume to attend a fancy dress ball. Being very young at the time, you did not recognise him. After this calamity, when we shipped as common sailors on a privateer where every one dressed as he pleased, M. Yvon said to me: 'As I am here to expiate a crime I shall regret all my life, I intend always to wear the costume of my native province at sea. It has become sacred to me, as I wore it on the fatal night when I held my poor dying wife in my arms for the last time.'