Part 16

— They are ten or twelve, my general, and they are bringing up a kind of fishing-smack, as they call it, of Dutch build, as it seemed to us.

— And you say they were carrying fish to Mr. Lambert's camp?

— Yes, general. It even appears they made a rather good catch.

— Very well, we shall see about that, said Monck. In fact, at that very moment the officer returned, bringing the chief of these fishermen, a man of about fifty to fifty-five years, but of good appearance. He was of medium height and wore a jacket of coarse wool, a cap pulled down over his eyes; a cutlass was thrust through his belt, and he walked with that hesitation peculiar to sailors, who, never knowing, thanks to the motion of the boat, whether their foot will land on the plank or in empty air, give to each of their steps a footing as sure as if they were driving in a pile. Monck, with a keen and penetrating glance, looked long at the fisherman, who smiled at him with that smile half-mocking, half-silly, peculiar to our peasants.

— Do you speak English? Monck asked him in excellent French.

— Ah! very badly, my lord, answered the fisherman.

This reply was made much rather with the lively, jerky accent of those from beyond the Loire than with the somewhat drawling accent of the western and northern regions of France.

— But after all you do speak it, insisted Monck, to study that accent once more.

— Eh! we men of the sea, said the fisherman, speak a little of all tongues.

— Then you are a fisherman sailor?

— For today, my lord, a fisherman, and a famous fisherman too. I took a bass that weighs at least thirty pounds, and more than fifty mullets; I have also some small whiting that will be perfect fried.

— You give me the impression of having fished more in the Gulf of Gascony than in the Channel, said Monck smiling.

— Indeed, I am from the South; does that prevent one from being a good fisherman, my lord?

— Not at all, and I buy your catch from you; now speak frankly: for whom did you intend it?

— My lord, I will not hide from you that I was bound for Newcastle, following the coast, when a troop of horsemen who were riding back along the shore in the opposite direction signalled my boat to turn back to Your Honor's camp, on pain of a discharge of musketry. As I was not armed for war, added the fisherman smiling, I had to obey.

— And why were you going to Lambert and not to me?

— My lord, I shall be frank; does Your Lordship permit it?

— Yes, and if need be I order you to.

— Well! my lord, I was going to Mr. Lambert's because those gentlemen of the town pay well, whereas you Scots, Puritans, Presbyterians, Covenanters, call yourselves what you will, eat little, but pay not at all.

Monck shrugged his shoulders, yet unable to refrain from smiling at the same time.

— And why, being from the South, do you come to fish on our coasts?

— Because I had the foolishness to marry in Picardy.

— Yes; but after all Picardy is not England.

— My lord, man pushes the boat to sea, but God and the wind do the rest, and push the boat where it pleases them.

— So you had no intention of landing with us?

— Never.

— And what course were you making?

— We were returning from Ostend, where mackerel had already been seen, when a great south wind made us drift; then, seeing it was useless to struggle against it, we ran before it. So we had, not to lose the catch, which was good, to go sell it at the nearest port of England; now, that nearest port was Newcastle; the opportunity was good, we were told, there was an increase of population in the camp; increase of population in the town; both were full of very rich and very hungry gentlemen, we were further told; then I made for Newcastle.

— And your companions, where are they?

— Oh! my companions, they stayed aboard; they are sailors with no education at all.

— Whereas you...? said Monck.

— Oh! me, said the master laughing, I have travelled much with my father, and I know how to say a sou, an écu, a pistole, a louis, and a double louis in all the languages of Europe; so my crew listens to me like an oracle and obeys me like an admiral.

— Then it was you who chose Mr. Lambert as the best customer?

— Yes, certainly. And be frank, my lord, was I mistaken?

— That you will see later.

— In any case, my lord, if there is fault, the fault is mine, and my comrades should not be blamed for it.

"Decidedly this is a witty rogue," thought Monck.

Then, after some minutes of silence spent in scrutinizing the fisherman:

— You come from Ostend, you told me? asked the general.

— Yes, my lord, in a straight line.

— You must have heard talk of the affairs of the day then, for I do not doubt they are spoken of in France and Holland. What is he doing, he who calls himself King of England?

— Oh! my lord, cried the fisherman with a loud and expansive frankness, there is a happy question, and you could not have addressed yourself better than to me, for truly I can give a famous answer to it. Picture to yourself, my lord, that, putting in at Ostend to sell the few mackerel we had caught there, I saw the ex-king walking on the dunes, awaiting his horses, which were to take him to The Hague: he is a tall pale man with black hair, and rather a hard look. He seems unwell, besides, and I believe the air of Holland is not good for him.

Monck followed with great attention the rapid, colorful, and diffuse conversation of the fisherman, in a tongue that was not his own; fortunately, we have said, he spoke it with great ease. The fisherman, for his part, used now a French word, now an English word, now a word that seemed to belong to no language and was a Gascon word. Fortunately his eyes spoke for him, and so eloquently, that one might miss a word from his mouth, but not a single intention of his eyes.

The general seemed more and more satisfied with his examination.

— You must have heard that this ex-king, as you call him, was heading for The Hague with some purpose.

— Oh! yes, certainly, said the fisherman, I have heard that said.

— And with what purpose?

— Why, always the same, said the fisherman; has he not that fixed idea of returning to England?

— That is true, said Monck pensively.

— Not to mention, added the fisherman, that the stadtholder... you know, my lord, William II...

— Well?

— He will aid him with all his power.

— Ah! you heard that said?

— No, but I believe it.

— You are deep in politics, it would seem? asked Monck.

— Oh! we sailors, my lord, who have the habit of studying water and air, that is to say the two most shifting things in the world, rarely are we mistaken about the rest.

— Come, said Monck, changing the conversation, it is claimed you will feed us well.

— I shall do my best, my lord.

— How much do you sell your catch to us, first of all?

— Not fool enough to set a price, my lord.

— Why is that?

— Because my fish is well yours.

— By what right?

— By right of the stronger.

— But my intention is to pay you for it.

— That is very generous of you, my lord.

— And its worth, even.

— I do not ask so much.

— And what do you ask, then?

— Why, I ask to be allowed to go.

— Where? To General Lambert's?

— I! cried the fisherman; and what would I go to Newcastle for, since I have no more fish?

— In any case, listen to me.

— I listen.

— A piece of advice.

— How! My Lord wishes to pay me and moreover give me good advice! but my lord overwhelms me.

Monck looked more fixedly than ever at the fisherman, upon whom he still seemed to harbor some suspicion.

— Yes, I wish to pay you and give you advice, for the two things go together. So, if you return to General Lambert...

The fisherman made a movement of head and shoulders that signified: "If he insists, let us not cross him."

— Do not cross the marsh, continued Monck; you will be carrying money, and there are in the marsh some ambuscades of Scots that I have placed there. They are untractable fellows, who understand poorly the language you speak, though it seems to me composed of three languages, and who might take back from you what I had given you, and on returning to your country you would not fail to say that General Monck has two hands, one Scottish, the other English, and that he takes back with the Scottish hand what he gave with the English hand.

— Oh! general, I shall go where you wish, be at ease, said the fisherman with a fear too expressive not to be exaggerated. I only ask to stay here, myself, if you wish me to stay.

— I well believe it, said Monck, with an imperceptible smile; but I cannot, however, keep you under my tent.

— I have no such pretension, my lord, and only desire that Your Lordship indicate where she wishes me to post myself. Let her not be constrained, for us a night passes quickly.

— Then I am going to have you conducted to your boat.

— As Your Lordship pleases. Only, if Your Lordship would have me escorted by a carpenter, I should be more grateful than words can say.

— Why is that?

— Because those gentlemen of your army, in making my boat go up the river, with the cable their horses were pulling, tore it somewhat on the rocks of the bank, so that I have at least two feet of water in my hold, my lord.

— All the more reason for you to watch over your boat, it seems to me.

— My lord, I am entirely at your orders, said the fisherman. I am going to unload my baskets where you wish, then you will pay me if it pleases you; you will send me back if it suits. You see I am easy to get along with, myself.

— Come, come, you are a good fellow, said Monck, whose searching glance had found not a single shadow in the limpidity of the fisherman's eye. Ho! Digby!

An aide-de-camp appeared.

— You will conduct this worthy lad and his companions to the small tents of the canteens, in front of the marshes; in this way they will be within reach of their boat, and yet they will not sleep in the water tonight. What is it, Spithead?

Spithead was the sergeant from whom Monck, for supper, had borrowed a piece of tobacco.

Spithead, entering the general's tent without being called, motivated this question of Monck.

— My lord, said he, a French gentleman has just presented himself at the outposts and asks to speak with Your Honor. All this was said, well understood, in English.

Though the conversation was taking place in that language, the fisherman made a slight movement that Monck, occupied with his sergeant, did not notice.

— And who is this gentleman? asked Monck.

— My lord, answered Spithead, he told me his name; but these devilish French names are so hard to pronounce for a Scottish throat, that I could not retain it. Moreover, this gentleman, as the guards told me, is the same who presented himself yesterday at the halt, and whom Your Honor would not receive.

— It is true, I had a council of officers.

— Does my lord decide anything regarding this gentleman?

— Yes, that he be brought here.

— Must precautions be taken?

— What kind?

— Blindfolding him, for example.

— To what end? He will see only what I wish to be seen, that is to say that I have around me eleven thousand brave men who ask nothing better than to cut their throats in honor of the Parliament of Scotland and England.

— And this man, my lord? said Spithead, pointing to the fisherman, who during this conversation had remained standing and motionless, like a man who sees but does not understand.

— Ah! that is true, said Monck.

Then, turning back to the fish merchant:

— Farewell, my brave man, said he; I have chosen a lodging for you. Digby, take him away. Fear nothing, your money will be sent to you presently.

— Thank you, my lord, said the fisherman.

And, after saluting, he departed accompanied by Digby. A hundred paces from the tent, he rejoined his companions, who were whispering with a volubility that did not appear free of uneasiness, but he made them a sign that seemed to reassure them.

— Ho! you others, said the master, come this way; His Lordship General Monck has the generosity to pay us for our fish and the kindness to give us hospitality for this night.

The fishermen rejoined their chief, and, led by Digby, the little troop made its way toward the canteens, a post which, it will be remembered, had been assigned to it.

While marching, the fishermen passed in the shadow near the guard conducting the French gentleman to General Monck. This gentleman was on horseback and wrapped in a great cloak, which was why the master could not see him, however great his curiosity appeared to be. As for the gentleman, unaware he was brushing against compatriots, he paid no attention even to this little troop. The aide-de-camp installed his guests in a fairly clean tent from which an Irish cantinière was turned out, who went to sleep where she could with her six children. A great fire burned in front of this tent and cast its purple light upon the grassy pools of the marsh, ruffled by a fairly fresh breeze. Then, the installation made, the aide-de-camp wished the sailors good night, observing to them that from the threshold of the tent one could see the masts of the boat rocking on the Tweed, proof that she had not yet sunk to the bottom. This sight seemed to delight exceedingly the chief of the fishermen.

Chapter XXIV — The Treasure

The French gentleman whom Spithead had announced to Monck, and who had passed so well wrapped in his cloak near the fisherman who was leaving the general's tent five minutes before he entered it, the French gentleman crossed the different posts without even casting his eyes around, for fear of seeming indiscreet. As order had been given, he was conducted to the general's tent. The gentleman was left alone in the antechamber preceding the tent, and he awaited Monck, who was but a short time in appearing, the time he took to hear the report of his men and to study through the canvas partition the face of him who solicited an interview. Doubtless the report of those who had accompanied the French gentleman established the discretion with which he had conducted himself, for the first impression the stranger received of the reception given him by the general was more favorable than he had reason to expect at such a moment, and from a man so suspicious.

Nevertheless, according to his habit, when Monck found himself face to face with the stranger, he fixed upon him his piercing glances, which the stranger, for his part, sustained without embarrassment or concern. After a few seconds, the general made a gesture of the hand and head signifying that he waited.

— My lord, said the gentleman in excellent English, I have requested an interview with Your Honor on a matter of consequence.

— Sir, answered Monck in French, you speak our tongue purely for a son of the continent. I beg your pardon, for no doubt the question is indiscreet, but do you speak French with the same purity?

— There is nothing astonishing, my lord, in my speaking English rather familiarly; in my youth I dwelt in England, and since then I have made two voyages there.

These words were said in French and with a purity of language that betrayed not only a Frenchman, but further a Frenchman from the vicinity of Tours.

— And what part of England did you dwell in, sir?

— In my youth, London, my lord; afterwards, toward 1635, I made a pleasure voyage to Scotland; finally, in 1648, I dwelt some time at Newcastle, and particularly in the convent whose gardens are occupied by your army.

— Excuse me, sir, but on my part, you understand these questions, do you not?

— I should be astonished, my lord, if they were not asked.

— Now, sir, what can I do for your service, and what do you desire of me?

— Here it is, my lord; but, beforehand, are we alone?

— Perfectly alone, sir, save however the post that guards us.

In saying these words, Monck drew the tent aside with his hand, and showed the gentleman that the sentry was placed at ten paces at most, and that at the first call one could have help in a second.

— In that case, my lord, said the gentleman in a tone as calm as if long since bound in friendship with his interlocutor, I am very decided to speak to Your Honor, because I know you to be an honest man. Moreover, the communication I am about to make you will prove the esteem in which I hold you.

Monck, astonished at this language which established at least equality between him and the French gentleman, raised his piercing eye upon the stranger, and with an irony sensible only by the inflection of his voice, for not a muscle of his face moved:

— I thank you, sir, said he; but, first, who are you, if you please?

— I already told my name to your sergeant, my lord.

— Pardon him, sir; he is Scottish, he found difficulty in retaining it.

— I am called the Count de La Fère, sir, said Athos, bowing.

— The Count de La Fère? said Monck, seeking to remember. Pardon, sir, but it seems to me this is the first time I hear that name. Do you fill some post at the court of France?

— None. I am a simple gentleman.

— Of what dignity?

— King Charles I made me Knight of the Garter, and Queen Anne of Austria gave me the ribbon of the Holy Spirit. Those are my only dignities, sir.

— The Garter! the Holy Spirit! you are knight of those two orders, sir?

— Yes.

— And on what occasion was such a favor accorded you?

— For services rendered to Their Majesties.

Monck looked with astonishment at this man, who seemed to him at once so simple and so great; then, as if renouncing to penetrate this mystery of simplicity and greatness, upon which the stranger did not seem disposed to give him other information than that he had already received:

— It is indeed you, said he, who yesterday presented yourself at the outposts?

— And who were sent away; yes, my lord.

— Many officers, sir, let no one into the camp, especially on the eve of a probable battle; but I differ from my colleagues and like to leave nothing behind me. Any advice is good to me; any danger is sent me by God, and I weigh it in my hand with the energy He has given me. So you were dismissed yesterday only because of the council I was holding. Today I am free, speak.

— My lord, you did all the better to receive me, in that it concerns in no way either the battle you are about to give General Lambert, or your camp, and the proof is that I turned my head away so as not to see your men, and closed my eyes so as not to count your tents. No, I come to speak to you, my lord, for myself.

— Speak then, sir, said Monck.

— A moment ago, continued Athos, I had the honor of telling Your Lordship that I long dwelt at Newcastle: it was in the time of King Charles I, and when the late king was delivered to Mr. Cromwell by the Scots.

— I know, said Monck coldly.

— I had at that moment a large sum in gold, and on the eve of the battle, by presentiment perhaps of the way things were to pass the next day, I hid it in the principal cellar of the convent of Newcastle, in the tower whose silver top you can see from here by the moon.

"My treasure, then, was buried there, and I came to beg Your Honor to permit me to withdraw it before, perhaps, the battle bearing this way, a mine or some other warlike device destroys the building and scatters my gold, or renders it apparent in such fashion that the soldiers seize upon it.

Monck knew men; he saw upon this man's countenance all possible energy, all reason, all circumspection; he could therefore attribute only to a magnanimous confidence the revelation of the French gentleman, and he showed himself profoundly touched by it.

— Sir, said he, you have indeed judged me well. But is the sum worth the danger you expose yourself to? Do you even believe it is still at the place where you left it?

— It is there, sir, doubt it not.

— There is one question; but for the other?... I asked you if the sum was so large that you should thus expose yourself.

— It is indeed large, yes, my lord, for it is a million that I enclosed in two barrels.

— A million! cried Monck, whom this time in turn Athos regarded fixedly and long.

Monck perceived it; then his distrust returned.

"Here is, " said he to himself, "a man who sets a trap for me..."

— Thus, sir, resumed he, you would wish to withdraw this sum, as I understand?

— If it please you, my lord.

— Today?

— This very evening, and because of the circumstances I explained to you.

— But, sir, objected Monck, General Lambert is as near the abbey where you have business as am I myself; why then did you not address yourself to him?

— Because, my lord, when one acts in important circumstances, one must consult one's instinct before all else. Well! General Lambert does not inspire in me the confidence that you inspire in me.

— Be it so, sir. I shall have your money found again, if indeed it is still there, for, after all, it may no longer be. Since 1648, twelve years have passed, and many events have occurred.

Monck insisted on this point to see if the French gentleman would seize the loophole offered him; but Athos did not flinch.

— I assure you, my lord, said he firmly, that my conviction regarding the two barrels is that they have changed neither place nor master.

This reply had removed one suspicion from Monck, but had suggested another to him.

Doubtless this Frenchman was some emissary sent to lead the Protector of the Parliament into error; the gold was but a lure; doubtless again, by means of this lure, they wished to excite the general's cupidity. This gold could not exist. It was for Monck a matter of catching the French gentleman in flagrant delict of falsehood and ruse, and of extricating himself from the bad pass where his enemies wished to engage him, a triumph for his renown.

Monck, once fixed upon what he had to do:

— Sir, said he to Athos, no doubt you will do me the honor of sharing my supper this evening!

— Yes, my lord, answered Athos bowing, for you do me an honor of which I deem myself worthy by the inclination that draws me toward you.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”