The Eternal Adam and other stories (3 page)

At last I had set eyes on the sea, or at
least on the vast bay which opens on the ocean between the extreme points of
the river.

I have since scudded over the Bay of
Biscay, the Baltic, the North Sea and the Mediterranean.

With a smaller boat first, then with a
sloop-yacht, and with a steam-yacht afterwards, I have been able to make some
fine coasting pleasure-trips. I have even crossed the Atlantic on board the
Great Eastern,
and set foot on American soil, where – I am ashamed to have
to confess it – I stayed only eight days.

What could I do? I had a ticket to go and
come which was only good for a week!

After all, I saw New York, stopped at the
Fifth Avenue Hotel, crossed East River before Brooklyn Bridge was built, sailed
up the Hudson as far as Albany, visited Buffalo and Lake Erie, gazed on the
Falls of Niagara from the top of the Terrapin Tower, while a lunar rainbow
could be seen through the vapours of the mighty cataract, and finally, on the
other side of the Suspension Bridge, sat down on the Canadian shore.

After which, I started back home. And one
of my deepest regrets is to think that I shall never again see America – a
country which I love, and which every Frenchman may love as a sister of France.

But these are no longer the reminiscences
of childhood and youth; they are those of maturer years. My young readers are
now made acquainted with the instincts and circumstances that led me to write a
series of geographical novels. I was living in Paris, then, in the company of
musicians, among whom I retain some good friends still, and was very little
with my literary colleagues whom I knew little of.

However, I have made several voyages in the
west, north and south of Europe – voyages, of course, much less extraordinary
than those described in my stories, and I have now withdrawn into the provinces
to terminate my task. That task is to paint the whole earth, the entire world,
in novel-form, by imagining adventures peculiar to each people, and by creating
personages specially belonging to the regions in which they act.

But the world is very big, and life very
short. To leave behind a complete work, one should live a hundred years.

Well, I shall try to be a centenarian, like
M. Chevreul. But, between you and me, it is very difficult.

On 18th October, 1825, the
Asia,
a
high-built Spanish ship, and the
Constanzia,
a brig of eight guns, cast
anchor off the isle of Guajan, one of the Mariannas. The crews of these
vessels, badly fed, ill-paid, and harassed with fatigue during their six months
voyage from Spain, had been secretly plotting a mutiny. Their insubordinate
spirit was more especially shown on the
Constanzia
commanded by Captain
Don Orteva, a man of iron will whom nothing could bend. The brig’s progress had
been impeded by a number of serious accidents, so unexpected that it was clear
they were due to deliberate malice. The
Asia,
commanded by Don Roque of
Guzarte, had had to put into port at the same time. One night the compass had
been smashed, nobody knew how: on another the foremast shrouds gave way as if
they had been cut through, and the mast with all its sails and rigging fell
over the side. Finally, during some important manoeuvres, the rudder-ropes had
twice, most unaccountably, snapped.

Guajan, like all the other islands in the
Mariannas, is governed by the Captain General of the Philippines. The Spaniards
were in a friendly port, where they could speedily repair the damage.

While they were still forced to remain in
port, Don Orteva told Don Roque of the mutinous spirit he had noticed on the
brig, and both captains decided to be on their guard and to redouble their
vigilance.

Don Orteva had especially to keep an eye on
two of his men – his lieutenant Martinez and José, the captain of the maintop.

Lieutenant Martinez, who had already
compromised his standing as an officer by joining in the plots hatched in the
forecastle, had been several times placed under arrest; and during his
imprisonment his place as lieutenant of the
Constanzia
had been taken by
the midshipman Pablo. As for the seaman José he was a despicable wretch,
influenced only by the love of gold. But he was closely watched by the
boatswain, Jacopo, in whom Don Orteva placed complete confidence.

Young Pablo was one of those select few
whose generosity prompts him to dare anything. An orphan, saved and brought up
by Captain Orteva, he would readily have given his life for that of his
benefactor. During his talks with Jacopo, Pablo had spoken most warmly of the
filial affection he felt for his captain, and the honest seaman shook his hand
in token of sympathy. Don Orteva had thus two devoted men on whom he could rely
absolutely. But what could the three of them do against the ill-will of a
lawless crew? While they tried, by night and day, to subdue the unruly spirit
of the men, Martinez and José instigated their comrades to revolt and
treachery.

The night before they were to set sail,
Lieutenant Martinez went to a seedy inn. where he met several petty-officers
and a dozen of the seamen from both ships.

‘Comrades,’ he addressed them, ‘thanks to
those lucky accidents, the vessels have had to put into port, and I’ve been
able to come here on the quiet to have a word with you.’

‘Bravo!’ cried the company with one voice.

‘Go on, Lieutenant,’ said one of the sailors,
‘and tell us your plan.’

‘This is my plan,’ Martinez replied. ‘As
soon as we’ve been able to master the two vessels, we’ll set sail for the coast
of Mexico. You know that it’s a new state, and that it hasn’t any fleet. It’ll
buy our ships with no questions asked, and then we’ll not only start getting
regular pay, we’ll share out what we get for the ships.’

‘Right!’

‘And what’s to be the signal for acting on
both the ships at once?’ asked José.

‘A rocket will be sent up from the
Asia,’
Martinez told him.

‘That’ll be the time to act! We’re ten
against one, and the officers will be made prisoners on both ships before
they’ve got time to know where they are.’

‘And when’s the signal to be given?’ asked
one of the petty-officers of the
Constanzia.

‘It’ll be in a few days, when we’re off the
island of Mendanao.’

‘But won’t the Mexicans welcome our ships
with cannon-shot?’ José protested. ‘If I’m not mistaken, the Mexican
Confederation has issued a decree to be on their guard against Spanish vessels
and instead of gold it may be lead and iron they’ll pay us with!’

‘Don’t worry, José. We’ll let them know who
we are – from a good distance! Martinez assured him.

‘But how?’

‘We’ll hoist the Mexican colours at our
peaks,’ and Martinez displayed a flag striped green, white, and red.

A gloomy silence greeted the appearance of
this emblem of Mexican independence.

‘So already you’re regretting the Spanish
flag?’ the lieutenant sneered at them. ‘Very well then! Anyone who feels like
that can clear out and sail on happily under the orders of Captain Don Orteva
or Commander Don Roque! But we, who don’t want to obey them any longer, we’ll
soon know how to get the better of them!’

There came a general shout of assent.

‘Comrades!’ Martinez continued. ‘Our
officers rely on using the trade winds to make for Sunda, but we’ll show them
that we can beat up against the easterlies of the Pacific without their
assistance.’

On leaving this secret meeting the sailors
scattered and went back separately to their respective ships.

Next day, at dawn, the
Asia
and the
Constanzia
weighed anchor, and, steering to the south-west, set a course to
New Holland. Lieutenant Martinez had returned to his duty, but by Captain
Orteva’s instructions he was closely watched.

None the less, the captain was disturbed by
sinister forebodings. He realised that the Spanish navy was likely to be
destroyed, and that insubordination would lead to its destruction. Moreover,
his patriotism was not yet reconciled to the successive disasters which had
fallen on his country, and of which the revolution in Mexico had been the final
blow. He often discussed these serious questions with young Pablo, and he
always stressed the former supremacy of the Spanish fleet in every sea.

‘My boy,’ he said, ‘there’s no more
discipline among our sailors these days. Signs of mutiny are quite obvious on
my own ship, and it’s quite likely – I have a foreboding – that some shameful
treachery is going to cost me my life! But you will avenge me, will you not? – and
avenge Spain at the same time, for any blow aimed at me is really directed at
her.’

‘I swear I will, Captain Orteva,’ the boy
assured him.

‘Don’t make enemies with anyone on the
brig, but remember, my boy, that in these unhappy times, the best way of
serving your country is to keep a good look-out and then, when the time comes,
to punish the wretches who want to betray her.’

I’ll die, I promise you,’ the boy replied
earnestly. ‘Yes, if need be I’ll die to punish these traitors.’

It was three days since the ships had left
the Mariannas. The
Constanzia
sailed with yards squared before a fresh
breeze. The brig, with her low graceful hull, her light rigging, and her raking
masts, bounded over the waves, whose foam covered her eight six-pounder
carronades.

‘Twelve knots, Lieutenant,’ the midshipman
Pablo told Martinez. ‘If we can speed along like this with the wind right aft,
our voyage won’t take long.’

‘God grant it! We’ve had sufferings enough
to make me want to see the end of them.’

The seaman José, who happened to be near
the quarterdeck, had been listening.

‘We soon ought to sight land,’ Martinez
said loudly.

‘Mindanao Island,’ the midshipman replied.
‘We’re at 140° west longitude and 8° north latitude, and if I’m not mistaken
that island is at ...’

‘A hundred and forty degrees thirty-nine
minutes longitude and 7° latitude,’ Martinez replied at once.

José looked up; then, having made a slight
sign to Martinez, he hurried forward.

‘You’re on the middle watch, Pablo?’ asked
Martinez.

‘Yes, Lieutenant.’

‘It’s six now, so I won’t detain you.’

Pablo went below.

Martinez stayed alone on the poop and
looked towards the
Asia,
which was sailing to leeward of the brig. The
evening was fine, and presaged one of those lovely calm fresh tropical nights.

The lieutenant tried to make out in the
gloom who was on watch. He could recognise José and two of the men who had been
at the meeting in Guajan.

He then went up to the man at the helm. He
said a couple of words to him in low tones, and that was all.

But it might have been noticed that the
helm had been put a little more a-weather than before, so that the brig soon
drew perceptibly towards the larger ship.

Contrary to the usual custom, Martinez
paced up and down on the lee side, keeping an eye on the
Asia.
Uneasy
and almost frightened, he kept playing with the speaking trumpet he was
holding.

Suddenly an explosion was heard on the
larger ship.

At this signal Martinez leapt on to the
hammock-nettings and shouted: ‘All hands on deck! Brail up the courses.’

At that moment Don Orteva, followed by his
officers, emerged from his cabin and demanded, ‘Why was that order given?’

Without replying, Martinez sprang down from
the hammock-nettings and ran to the forecastle.

‘Down with the helm!’ he shouted. ‘Brace
the yards to port! Quick! Haul away! Let fly the jib-sheet!’

At that moment some more explosions were
heard on the
Asia.

The crew obeyed the lieutenant’s orders,
and the brig, coming quickly to the wind, hove to under her fore top-sail.

Don Orteva, turning towards the handful of
men who had gathered round him exclaimed, ‘Stand by me, good lads!’ Then,
striding towards Martinez, ‘Arrest that officer!’ he exclaimed.

‘Death to the commander,’ Martinez
retorted.

Pablo and two of the officers drew their
swords and grasped their pistols. A few of the men, led by Jacopo, were rushing
to their help. But these were at once stopped by the mutineers, disarmed, and
rendered powerless.

Don Orteva pointed his pistol at Martinez.

Then a rocket soared above the
Asia.

‘They’ve won!’ shouted Martinez.

Don Orteva’s bullet was lost in space.

The scene did not last long. The captain
grappled with the lieutenant: but, overcome by numbers and seriously wounded,
he was easily mastered, and a few moments later his officers shared his fate.

Blue lights were now let off in the rigging
of the brig, and they were replied to by those of the
Asia.
The mutiny
had broken out and been successful on both ships.