![]() Then, as they were just passing the Round Tower, the young man shouted: “Stand by there to lower the topsails and jib brail up the spanker!” Morrel, take my word for it and I advise you not to take 25,000 francs for the profits of the voyage.” If not, why, there would be no promotion and since you assure me that the cargo-” “Why, you see, Edmond,” replied the owner, who appeared more comforted at every moment, “we are all mortal, and the old must make way for the young. ![]() It was worth while, truly,” added the young man with a melancholy smile, “to make war against the English for ten years, and to die in his bed at last, like everybody else.” We bring to his widow his sword and cross of honor. ![]() We performed the usual burial service, and he is at his rest, sewn up in his hammock with a thirty–six pound shot at his head and his heels, off El Giglio island. In twenty–four hours he was attacked by a fever, and died three days afterwards. After a long talk with the harbor–master, Captain Leclere left Naples greatly disturbed in mind. “Alas, sir, in the most unexpected manner. “And how did this misfortune occur?” inquired the latter, resuming the interrupted conversation. The young sailor gave a look to see that his orders were promptly and accurately obeyed, and then turned again to the owner. “No, sir, he died of brain–fever in dreadful agony.” Then turning to the crew, he said, “Bear a hand there, to take in sail!”Īll hands obeyed, and at once the eight or ten seamen who composed the crew, sprang to their respective stations at the spanker brails and outhaul, topsail sheets and halyards, the jib downhaul, and the topsail clewlines and buntlines. “What happened to him?” asked the owner, with an air of considerable resignation. Morrel and I think you will be satisfied on that head. “And the cargo?” inquired the owner, eagerly. Morrel,” replied the young man,-”a great misfortune, for me especially! Off Civita Vecchia we lost our brave Captain Leclere.” “What’s the matter? and why have you such an air of sadness aboard?” “Ah, is it you, Dantes?” cried the man in the skiff. He was a fine, tall, slim young fellow of eighteen or twenty, with black eyes, and hair as dark as a raven’s wing and his whole appearance bespoke that calmness and resolution peculiar to men accustomed from their cradle to contend with danger. When the young man on board saw this person approach, he left his station by the pilot, and, hat in hand, leaned over the ship’s bulwarks. The vague disquietude which prevailed among the spectators had so much affected one of the crowd that he did not await the arrival of the vessel in harbor, but jumping into a small skiff, desired to be pulled alongside the Pharaon, which he reached as she rounded into La Reserve basin. However, those experienced in navigation saw plainly that if any accident had occurred, it was not to the vessel herself, for she bore down with all the evidence of being skilfully handled, the anchor a–cockbill, the jib–boom guys already eased off, and standing by the side of the pilot, who was steering the Pharaon towards the narrow entrance of the inner port, was a young man, who, with activity and vigilant eye, watched every motion of the ship, and repeated each direction of the pilot. The ship drew on and had safely passed the strait, which some volcanic shock has made between the Calasareigne and Jaros islands had doubled Pomegue, and approached the harbor under topsails, jib, and spanker, but so slowly and sedately that the idlers, with that instinct which is the forerunner of evil, asked one another what misfortune could have happened on board. Immediately, and according to custom, the ramparts of Fort Saint–Jean were covered with spectators it is always an event at Marseilles for a ship to come into port, especially when this ship, like the Pharaon, has been built, rigged, and laden at the old Phocee docks, and belongs to an owner of the city. On the 24th of February, 1815, the look–out at Notre–Dame de la Garde signalled the three–master, the Pharaon from Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples.Īs usual, a pilot put off immediately, and rounding the Chateau d’If, got on board the vessel between Cape Morgion and Rion island. You should visit Browse Happy and update your internet browser today! The embedded audio player requires a modern internet browser. ![]()
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