Chapter 21. The Island of Tiboulen
Dantès, although stunned and almost suffocated, had sufficient presenceof mind to hold his breath, and as his right hand (prepared as he wasfor every chance) held his knife open, he rapidly ripped up the sack,extricated his arm, and then his body; but in spite of all his effortsto free himself from the shot, he felt it dragging him down still lower.He then bent his body, and by a desperate effort severed the cord thatbound his legs, at the moment when it seemed as if he were actuallystrangled. With a mighty leap he rose to the surface of the sea, whilethe shot dragged down to the depths the sack that had so nearly becomehis shroud.
Dantès waited only to get breath, and then dived, in order to avoidbeing seen. When he arose a second time, he was fifty paces from wherehe had first sunk. He saw overhead a black and tempestuous sky, acrosswhich the wind was driving clouds that occasionally suffered a twinklingstar to appear; before him was the vast expanse of waters, sombre andterrible, whose waves foamed and roared as if before the approach of astorm. Behind him, blacker than the sea, blacker than the sky, rosephantom-like the vast stone structure, whose projecting crags seemedlike arms extended to seize their prey, and on the highest rock was atorch lighting two figures.
He fancied that these two forms were looking at the sea; doubtless thesestrange grave-diggers had heard his cry. Dantès dived again, andremained a long time beneath the water. This was an easy feat to him,for he usually attracted a crowd of spectators in the bay before thelighthouse at Marseilles when he swam there, and was unanimouslydeclared to be the best swimmer in the port. When he came up again thelight had disappeared.
He must now get his bearings. Ratonneau and Pomègue are the nearestislands of all those that surround the Château d’If, but Ratonneau andPomègue are inhabited, as is also the islet of Daume. Tiboulen andLemaire were therefore the safest for Dantès’ venture. The islands ofTiboulen and Lemaire are a league from the Château d’If; Dantès,nevertheless, determined to make for them. But how could he find his wayin the darkness of the night?
At this moment he saw the light of Planier, gleaming in front of himlike a star. By leaving this light on the right, he kept the Island ofTiboulen a little on the left; by turning to the left, therefore, hewould find it. But, as we have said, it was at least a league from theChâteau d’If to this island. Often in prison Faria had said to him, whenhe saw him idle and inactive:
“Dantès, you must not give way to this listlessness; you will be drownedif you seek to escape, and your strength has not been properly exercisedand prepared for exertion.”
These words rang in Dantès’ ears, even beneath the waves; he hastened tocleave his way through them to see if he had not lost his strength. Hefound with pleasure that his captivity had taken away nothing of hispower, and that he was still master of that element on whose bosom hehad so often sported as a boy.
Fear, that relentless pursuer, clogged Dantès’ efforts. He listened forany sound that might be audible, and every time that he rose to the topof a wave he scanned the horizon, and strove to penetrate the darkness.He fancied that every wave behind him was a pursuing boat, and heredoubled his exertions, increasing rapidly his distance from thechâteau, but exhausting his strength. He swam on still, and already theterrible château had disappeared in the darkness. He could not see it,but he felt its presence.
An hour passed, during which Dantès, excited by the feeling of freedom,continued to cleave the waves.
“Let us see,” said he, “I have swum above an hour, but as the wind isagainst me, that has retarded my speed; however, if I am not mistaken, Imust be close to Tiboulen. But what if I were mistaken?”
A shudder passed over him. He sought to tread water, in order to resthimself; but the sea was too violent, and he felt that he could not makeuse of this means of recuperation.
“Well,” said he, “I will swim on until I am worn out, or the crampseizes me, and then I shall sink;” and he struck out with the energy ofdespair.
Suddenly the sky seemed to him to become still darker and more dense,and heavy clouds seemed to sweep down towards him; at the same time hefelt a sharp pain in his knee. He fancied for a moment that he had beenshot, and listened for the report; but he heard nothing. Then he put outhis hand, and encountered an obstacle and with another stroke knew thathe had gained the shore.
Before him rose a grotesque mass of rocks, that resembled nothing somuch as a vast fire petrified at the moment of its most ferventcombustion. It was the Island of Tiboulen. Dantès rose, advanced a fewsteps, and, with a fervent prayer of gratitude, stretched himself on thegranite, which seemed to him softer than down. Then, in spite of thewind and rain, he fell into the deep, sweet sleep of utter exhaustion.At the expiration of an hour Edmond was awakened by the roar of thunder.The tempest was let loose and beating the atmosphere with its mightywings; from time to time a flash of lightning stretched across theheavens like a fiery serpent, lighting up the clouds that rolled on invast chaotic waves.
Dantès had not been deceived—he had reached the first of the twoislands, which was, in fact, Tiboulen. He knew that it was barren andwithout shelter; but when the sea became more calm, he resolved toplunge into its waves again, and swim to Lemaire, equally arid, butlarger, and consequently better adapted for concealment.
An overhanging rock offered him a temporary shelter, and scarcely had heavailed himself of it when the tempest burst forth in all its fury.Edmond felt the trembling of the rock beneath which he lay; the waves,dashing themselves against it, wetted him with their spray. He wassafely sheltered, and yet he felt dizzy in the midst of the warring ofthe elements and the dazzling brightness of the lightning. It seemed tohim that the island trembled to its base, and that it would, like avessel at anchor, break moorings, and bear him off into the centre ofthe storm.
He then recollected that he had not eaten or drunk for four-and-twentyhours. He extended his hands, and drank greedily of the rainwater thathad lodged in a hollow of the rock.
As he rose, a flash of lightning, that seemed to rive the remotestheights of heaven, illumined the darkness. By its light, between theIsland of Lemaire and Cape Croiselle, a quarter of a league distant,Dantès saw a fishing-boat driven rapidly like a spectre before the powerof winds and waves. A second after, he saw it again, approaching withfrightful rapidity. Dantès cried at the top of his voice to warn them oftheir danger, but they saw it themselves. Another flash showed him fourmen clinging to the shattered mast and the rigging, while a fifth clungto the broken rudder. The men he beheld saw him undoubtedly, for theircries were carried to his ears by the wind. Above the splintered mast asail rent to tatters was waving; suddenly the ropes that still held itgave way, and it disappeared in the darkness of the night like a vastsea-bird.
At the same moment a violent crash was heard, and cries of distress.Dantès from his rocky perch saw the shattered vessel, and among thefragments the floating forms of the hapless sailors. Then all was darkagain.
Dantès ran down the rocks at the risk of being himself dashed to pieces;he listened, he groped about, but he heard and saw nothing—the cries hadceased, and the tempest continued to rage. By degrees the wind abated,vast gray clouds rolled towards the west, and the blue firmamentappeared studded with bright stars. Soon a red streak became visible inthe horizon, the waves whitened, a light played over them, and gildedtheir foaming crests with gold. It was day.
Dantès stood mute and motionless before this majestic spectacle, as ifhe now beheld it for the first time; and indeed since his captivity inthe Château d’If he had forgotten that such scenes were ever to bewitnessed. He turned towards the fortress, and looked at both sea andland. The gloomy building rose from the bosom of the ocean with imposingmajesty and seemed to dominate the scene. It was about five o’clock. Thesea continued to get calmer.
“In two or three hours,” thought Dantès, “the turnkey will enter mychamber, find the body of my poor friend, recognize it, seek for me invain, and give the alarm. Then the tunnel will be dis
covered; the menwho cast me into the sea and who must have heard the cry I uttered, willbe questioned. Then boats filled with armed soldiers will pursue thewretched fugitive. The cannon will warn everyone to refuse shelter to aman wandering about naked and famished. The police of Marseilles will beon the alert by land, whilst the governor pursues me by sea. I am cold,I am hungry. I have lost even the knife that saved me. Oh, my God, Ihave suffered enough surely! Have pity on me, and do for me what I amunable to do for myself.”
As Dantès (his eyes turned in the direction of the Château d’If) utteredthis prayer, he saw off the farther point of the Island of Pomègue asmall vessel with lateen sail skimming the sea like a gull in search ofprey; and with his sailor’s eye he knew it to be a Genoese tartan. Shewas coming out of Marseilles harbor, and was standing out to searapidly, her sharp prow cleaving through the waves.
“Oh,” cried Edmond, “to think that in half an hour I could join her, didI not fear being questioned, detected, and conveyed back to Marseilles!What can I do? What story can I invent? under pretext of trading alongthe coast, these men, who are in reality smugglers, will prefer sellingme to doing a good action. I must wait. But I cannot—I am starving. In afew hours my strength will be utterly exhausted; besides, perhaps I havenot been missed at the fortress. I can pass as one of the sailorswrecked last night. My story will be accepted, for there is no one leftto contradict me.”
As he spoke, Dantès looked toward the spot where the fishing-vessel hadbeen wrecked, and started. The red cap of one of the sailors hung to apoint of the rock and some timbers that had formed part of the vessel’skeel, floated at the foot of the crag. In an instant Dantès’ plan wasformed. He swam to the cap, placed it on his head, seized one of thetimbers, and struck out so as to cut across the course the vessel wastaking.
“I am saved!” murmured he. And this conviction restored his strength.
He soon saw that the vessel, with the wind dead ahead, was tackingbetween the Château d’If and the tower of Planier. For an instant hefeared lest, instead of keeping in shore, she should stand out to sea;but he soon saw that she would pass, like most vessels bound for Italy,between the islands of Jaros and Calaseraigne.
However, the vessel and the swimmer insensibly neared one another, andin one of its tacks the tartan bore down within a quarter of a mile ofhim. He rose on the waves, making signs of distress; but no one on boardsaw him, and the vessel stood on another tack. Dantès would haveshouted, but he knew that the wind would drown his voice.
It was then he rejoiced at his precaution in taking the timber, forwithout it he would have been unable, perhaps, to reach thevessel—certainly to return to shore, should he be unsuccessful inattracting attention.
Dantès, though almost sure as to what course the vessel would take, hadyet watched it anxiously until it tacked and stood towards him. Then headvanced; but before they could meet, the vessel again changed hercourse. By a violent effort he rose half out of the water, waving hiscap, and uttering a loud shout peculiar to sailors. This time he wasboth seen and heard, and the tartan instantly steered towards him. Atthe same time, he saw they were about to lower the boat.
An instant after, the boat, rowed by two men, advanced rapidly towardshim. Dantès let go of the timber, which he now thought to be useless,and swam vigorously to meet them. But he had reckoned too much upon hisstrength, and then he realized how serviceable the timber had been tohim. His arms became stiff, his legs lost their flexibility, and he wasalmost breathless.
He shouted again. The two sailors redoubled their efforts, and one ofthem cried in Italian, “Courage!”
The word reached his ear as a wave which he no longer had the strengthto surmount passed over his head. He rose again to the surface,struggled with the last desperate effort of a drowning man, uttered athird cry, and felt himself sinking, as if the fatal cannon shot wereagain tied to his feet. The water passed over his head, and the skyturned gray. A convulsive movement again brought him to the surface. Hefelt himself seized by the hair, then he saw and heard nothing. He hadfainted.
When he opened his eyes Dantès found himself on the deck of the tartan.His first care was to see what course they were taking. They wererapidly leaving the Château d’If behind. Dantès was so exhausted thatthe exclamation of joy he uttered was mistaken for a sigh.
As we have said, he was lying on the deck. A sailor was rubbing hislimbs with a woollen cloth; another, whom he recognized as the one whohad cried out “Courage!” held a gourd full of rum to his mouth; whilethe third, an old sailor, at once the pilot and captain, looked on withthat egotistical pity men feel for a misfortune that they have escapedyesterday, and which may overtake them tomorrow.
A few drops of the rum restored suspended animation, while the frictionof his limbs restored their elasticity.
“Who are you?” said the pilot in bad French.
“I am,” replied Dantès, in bad Italian, “a Maltese sailor. We werecoming from Syracuse laden with grain. The storm of last night overtookus at Cape Morgiou, and we were wrecked on these rocks.”
“Where do you come from?”
“From these rocks that I had the good luck to cling to while our captainand the rest of the crew were all lost. I saw your vessel, and fearfulof being left to perish on the desolate island, I swam off on a piece ofwreckage to try and intercept your course. You have saved my life, and Ithank you,” continued Dantès. “I was lost when one of your sailorscaught hold of my hair.”
“It was I,” said a sailor of a frank and manly appearance; “and it wastime, for you were sinking.”
“Yes,” returned Dantès, holding out his hand, “I thank you again.”
“I almost hesitated, though,” replied the sailor; “you looked more likea brigand than an honest man, with your beard six inches, and your haira foot long.”
Dantès recollected that his hair and beard had not been cut all the timehe was at the Château d’If.
“Yes,” said he, “I made a vow, to our Lady of the Grotto not to cut myhair or beard for ten years if I were saved in a moment of danger; buttoday the vow expires.”
“Now what are we to do with you?” said the captain.
“Alas, anything you please. My captain is dead; I have barely escaped;but I am a good sailor. Leave me at the first port you make; I shall besure to find employment.”
“Do you know the Mediterranean?”
“I have sailed over it since my childhood.”
“You know the best harbors?”
“There are few ports that I could not enter or leave with a bandage overmy eyes.”
“I say, captain,” said the sailor who had cried “Courage!” to Dantès,“if what he says is true, what hinders his staying with us?”
“If he says true,” said the captain doubtingly. “But in his presentcondition he will promise anything, and take his chance of keeping itafterwards.”
“I will do more than I promise,” said Dantès.
“We shall see,” returned the other, smiling.
“Where are you going?” asked Dantès.
“To Leghorn.”
“Then why, instead of tacking so frequently, do you not sail nearer thewind?”
“Because we should run straight on to the Island of Rion.”
“You shall pass it by twenty fathoms.”
“Take the helm, and let us see what you know.”
The young man took the helm, felt to see if the vessel answered therudder promptly and seeing that, without being a first-rate sailor, sheyet was tolerably obedient.
“To the sheets,” said he. The four seamen, who composed the crew,obeyed, while the pilot looked on. “Haul taut.”
They obeyed.
“Belay.” This order was also executed; and the vessel passed, as Dantèshad predicted, twenty fathoms to windward.
“Bravo!” said the captain.
“Bravo!” repeated the sailors. And they all looked with astonishment atthis man whose eye now disclosed an intelligence and his body a vigor
they had not thought him capable of showing.
“You see,” said Dantès, quitting the helm, “I shall be of some use toyou, at least during the voyage. If you do not want me at Leghorn, youcan leave me there, and I will pay you out of the first wages I get, formy food and the clothes you lend me.”
“Ah,” said the captain, “we can agree very well, if you are reasonable.”
“Give me what you give the others, and it will be all right,” returnedDantès.
“That’s not fair,” said the seaman who had saved Dantès; “for you knowmore than we do.”
“What is that to you, Jacopo?” returned the Captain. “Everyone is freeto ask what he pleases.”
“That’s true,” replied Jacopo; “I only make a remark.”
“Well, you would do much better to find him a jacket and a pair oftrousers, if you have them.”
“No,” said Jacopo; “but I have a shirt and a pair of trousers.”
“That is all I want,” interrupted Dantès. Jacopo dived into the hold andsoon returned with what Edmond wanted.
“Now, then, do you wish for anything else?” said the patron.
“A piece of bread and another glass of the capital rum I tasted, for Ihave not eaten or drunk for a long time.” He had not tasted food forforty hours. A piece of bread was brought, and Jacopo offered him thegourd.
“Larboard your helm,” cried the captain to the steersman. Dantès glancedthat way as he lifted the gourd to his mouth; then paused with hand inmid-air.
“Hollo! what’s the matter at the Château d’If?” said the captain.
A small white cloud, which had attracted Dantès’ attention, crowned thesummit of the bastion of the Château d’If. At the same moment the faintreport of a gun was heard. The sailors looked at one another.
“What is this?” asked the captain.
“A prisoner has escaped from the Château d’If, and they are firing thealarm gun,” replied Dantès. The captain glanced at him, but he hadlifted the rum to his lips and was drinking it with so much composure,that suspicions, if the captain had any, died away.
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“Pretty strong rum! “ said Dantès, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
“At any rate,” murmured he, “if it be, so much the better, for I havemade a rare acquisition.”
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Under pretence of being fatigued, Dantès asked to take the helm; thesteersman, glad to be relieved, looked at the captain, and the latter bya sign indicated that he might abandon it to his new comrade. Dantèscould thus keep his eyes on Marseilles.
“What is the day of the month?” asked he of Jacopo, who sat down besidehim.
“The 28th of February.”
“In what year?”
“In what year—you ask me in what year?”
“Yes,” replied the young man, “I ask you in what year!”
“You have forgotten then?”
“I got such a fright last night,” replied Dantès, smiling, “that I havealmost lost my memory. I ask you what year is it?”
“The year 1829,” returned Jacopo.
It was fourteen years, day for day, since Dantès’ arrest. He wasnineteen when he entered the Château d’If; he was thirty-three when heescaped. A sorrowful smile passed over his face; he asked himself whathad become of Mercédès, who must believe him dead. Then his eyes lightedup with hatred as he thought of the three men who had caused him so longand wretched a captivity. He renewed against Danglars, Fernand, andVillefort the oath of implacable vengeance he had made in his dungeon.
This oath was no longer a vain menace; for the fastest sailor in theMediterranean would have been unable to overtake the little tartan, thatwith every stitch of canvas set was flying before the wind to Leghorn.