we will abandon for awhile maison-forte of the baron des anbiez, and the little city of la ciotat, in order to conduct the reader on board the galley of the commander pierre des anbiez.
the tempest had forced this vessel to take refuge in the little port of tolari, situated on the east of cape corsica, a northerly point of the island of the same name.
the bell of the galley had just sounded six o’clock in the morning.
the weather was gloomy and the sky veiled with black and threatening clouds; frequent and violent squalls of wind were raising a strong swell within the port.
on whichever side one might turn, nothing could be seen but the barren, solemn mountains of cape corsica, at the feet of which the steep road wound its way.
the sea was heavy in the interior of the basin, but it seemed almost calm when compared to the surging waves which beat upon a girdle of rocks at the narrow entrance of the port.
these rocks, almost entirely submerged, were covered with a dazzling foam, which, whipped by the wind, vented itself in a soft white mist.
the sharp cries of sea-gulls and sea-mews scarcely rose above the thundering noise of the sea in its fury, as it rushed into the channel which it was necessary to cross in order to enter the road of tolari.
a few wretched-looking fishermen’s huts, built on the beach where their dried boats were moored, completed the wild and solitary scene. tossed by this heavy swell, our lady of seven sorrows, sometimes rising on the waves, would strain her cables almost to breaking, and sometimes seemed to sink into a bed between two billows.
nothing could be severer or more funereal than the aspect of this galley painted like a cenotaph.
a hundred and sixty-six feet long, eighteen feet wide, narrow, slender, and scarcely rising above the level of the sea, she resembled an immense black serpent, sleeping in the midst of the waves. in front of the parallelogram which constituted the body of the galley, was scarfed a sharp and projecting beak-head, six feet in length.
at the rear of the same parallelogram was a rounded stern, the roof of which inclined toward the prow.
under this shelter, called the stem carriage, lodged the commander, the patron, the prior, and the king of the chevaliers of malta.
the masts of the galley, hauled down at its entrance into harbour, had been placed in the waist, a narrow passage which ran through the entire length of the galley.
on each side of this passage were ranged the benches of the galley-slaves. below the stem carriage, attached to a black staff, floated the standard of religion, red, quartered with white, and below the standard a bronze beacon designated the grade of the commander.
it would be difficult, in our day, to comprehend how these slaves, composing the crew of a galley, could live, chained night and day to their benches,—at sea, lying on deck without shelter; at anchor, lying under a tent of coarse, woollen stuff, which scarcely protected them from the rain and the frost.
let one picture to himself about one hundred and thirty moorish, turk, or christian galley-slaves, dressed in red jackets and brown woollen hooded mantles, on this black galley, in cold, gloomy weather.
these miserable creatures shivered under the icy blast of the tempest and under the rain, which deluged them notwithstanding the awning.
to warm themselves a little they would press close to each other on the narrow benches, to which they were chained, five and five.
all of them preserved a morose silence, and often threw an uneasy and furtive glance on the convict-keepers and the overseers.
these contemptible officers, clothed in black, and armed with a cowhide, would go through the waist of the galley, on each side of which were the benches of the crew.
there were thirteen benches on the right, and twelve on the left.
the galley-slaves, constituting the palamente, or the armament of rowers, belonging to our lady of seven sorrows, had been, as was the custom, recruited from christians, turks, and moors.
each one of these types of slaves had his peculiar physiognomy.
the turks, sluggish, dejected, and indolent, seemed to be a prey to a morbid and contemplative apathy.
the moors, always excited, uneasy, and of ungovernable temper, appeared to be continually on the alert to break their chains and massacre their keepers.
the christians, whether condemned or enrolled of their own will, were, in their way, more indifferent, and some of them were occupied in weaving straw, by which they hoped to reap a profit.
finally, the negroes, captured from barbary pirate vessels where they rowed as slaves, remained in a sort of torpor, a stupid immobility, with their elbows on their knees and their heads in their hands.
the greater part of these blacks died of grief, while the mussulman and christians grew accustomed to their fate.
among these last, some were horribly mutilated, as they belonged to the class recaptured in their efforts to escape.
in order to punish them for attempting to escape, according to the law, their noses and ears had been cut off, and even more than this, their beards, heads, and eyebrows were completely shaven; nothing could be more hideous than the faces so disfigured.
in the fore part of the galley, and confined in a sort of covered guard-house, called rambade, could be seen a battery,—the five pieces of artillery belonging to the vessel.
this place was occupied by the soldiers and gunners.
these never formed a part of the crew, but composed, if such a thing may be said, the cargo of the vessel impelled by the oars of the galley-slaves.
about twenty sailors, free also, were charged with the management of the sails, with the anchorage, and other nautical manoeuvres.
the soldiers and gunners, considered as lay brothers and servants, wore coats of buff-skin, hoods, and black breeches.
sheltered by the roof of the rambade, some, seated on their cannon, busied themselves in cleaning their arms; others, wrapped in their hoods, lay on the deck asleep, while others still—a rare thing even among the soldiers of religion—were occupied in pious reading, or in telling their rosaries.
with the exception of the galley-slaves, the men on board this galley, carefully chosen by the commander, had a grave and thoughtful countenance.
almost all the soldiers and sailors were of mature age; some were approaching old age. by the numerous scars with which the greater number were marked, it was evident that they had served a long time.
more than two hundred men were assembled on this galley, and yet the silence of the cloister reigned through it.
if the crew remained silent through terror of the whip of the keepers and overseers, the soldiers and sailors obeyed the pious customs maintained by the commander pierre des anbiez.
for more than thirty years that he had commanded this galley of religion, he had tried always to preserve the same equipment, replacing only the men that he had lost.
the severity of discipline established on board our lady of seven sorrows was well known at malta. the commander was perhaps the only one of the officers of the religion who exacted a strict observance of the rules of the order. his galley, on board of which he received only men who had been proven, became a sort of nomadic convent,—a voluntary rendezvous for all sailors who wished to assure their salvation by binding themselves scrupulously to the rigorous requirements of this hospitable and military confraternity.
it was the same with the officers and young caravan-iflits.
those who preferred to lead a joyous and daring life—which was the immense majority—found the greater part of the captains of the religion disposed to welcome them, and to forget everything in their union against the infidels, as their mission of monk-soldiers was at the same time that of saint and warrior.
on the contrary, the very small number of young chevaliers who loved, for its own sake, this pious and austere life in the midst of great perils, sought with eagerness the opportunity to embark on the galley of the commander pierre des anbiez.
there nothing offended, nothing prevented their religious customs. there they could give themselves up to their holy exercises without fear of being ridiculed, or of becoming perhaps weak enough to blush for their own zeal.
the master gunner, or captain of the mast of the galley, an old sunburnt soldier, wearing a black felt jacket with a white cross, was seated in the guard-house of the prow, or rambade, of which we have spoken.
he was talking with the captain of the sailors of our lady of seven sorrows, whose name was simon. the first speaker was captain hugues, who, with his companion, had always sailed with the commander des anbiez.
captain hugues was polishing with care a collar of steel net. captain simon from time to time was looking through the opening of the rambade, examining the sky and the sea, so as to prognosticate the end or the increase of the storm.
“brother,” said hugues to simon, “the north wind blows strong; it will be several days before we arrive at la ciotat. christmas will be past, and our brother commander will be grieved.”
captain simon, before replying to his comrade, consulted the horizon again, and said, with a serious air:
“although it is not proper for man to seek to divine the will of the lord, i think we may hope to see the end of this tempest soon: the clouds seem not so low or so heavy. perhaps to-morrow our ancient companion, the old watchman on cape l’aigle, will signal our arrival in the gulf of la ciotat.”
“and that will be a day of joy in maison-forte, and to raimond v.,” said captain hugues.
“and also on board our lady of seven sorrows,” said captain simon, “although joy appears here as rarely as the sun during a westerly wind.”
“look at this furbished collar,” said the gunner, regarding his work with an air of satisfaction. “it is strange, brother simon, how blood will stick to steel. i have rubbed in vain: you can always distinguish these blackish marks on the mesh!”
“which proves that steel loves blood as the earth loves dew,” said the sailor, smiling sadly at his pleasantry.
“but do you know,” said hugues, “that it will soon be ten years since the commander received this wound in his combat with mourad-reis, the corsair of algiers?” “i remember it as well, brother, as that with one blow of the battle-axe i struck down the miscreant who had almost broken his kangiar on the breast of the commander, who was fortunately defended by that coat of mail. but for that, pierre des anbiez would be dead.”
“so he still keeps this collar, and i am going to carry it to him now.”
“stop,” said the sailor, seizing the gunner by the arm, “you have chosen an unfortunate time,—the brother commander is in one of his bad days.”
“how?”
“the head cook told me this morning that father elzear wished to enter the commander’s chamber, but there was crape on the door.”
“i understand, i understand; that sign suffices to prevent the entrance of any person in the commander’s chamber before he gives the order to do so.”
“yet to-day is neither saturday nor the seventeenth day of the month,” said captain hugues with a thoughtful air.
“that is true, for it is only upon the return of these days that his fits of despondency seem to overwhelm him the most,” said captain simon.
just at this moment a deep, hollow murmur was heard outside among the crew.
there was nothing ominous of evil in this noise; on the contrary, it was only an expression of satisfaction.
“what is that?” asked the gunner.
“doubtless reverend father elzear has just appeared on deck. at the very sight of him the slaves think their lot less miserable.”
