never knowing, thanks to the movement of the vessel, whether
their foot will be placed upon the plank or upon nothing,
give to every one of their steps a fall as firm as if they
were driving a pile. Monk, with an acute and penetrating
look, examined the fisherman for some time, while the latter
smiled, with that smile half cunning, half silly, peculiar
to French peasants.
“Do you speak English?” asked Monk, in excellent French.
“Ah! but badly, my lord,” replied the fisherman.
This reply was made much more with the lively and sharp
accentuation of the people beyond the Loire, than with the
slightly-drawling accent of the countries of the west and
north of France.
“But you do speak it?” persisted Monk, in order to examine
his accent once more.
“Eh! we men of the sea,” replied the fisherman, “speak a
little of all languages.”
“Then you are a sea fisherman?”
“I am at present, my lord — a fisherman, and a famous
fisherman too. I have taken a barbel that weighs at least
thirty pounds, and more than fifty mullets; I have also some
little whitings that will fry beautifully.”
“You appear to me to have fished more frequently in the Gulf
of Gascony than in the Channel,” said Monk, smiling.
“Well, I am from the south; but does that prevent me from
being a good fisherman, my lord?”
“Oh! not at all; I shall buy your fish. And now speak
frankly; for whom did you destine them?”
“My lord, I will conceal nothing from you. I was going to
Newcastle, following the coast, when a party of horsemen who
were passing along in an opposite direction made a sign to
my bark to turn back to your honor’s camp, under penalty of
a discharge of musketry. As I was not armed for fighting,”
added the fisherman, smiling, “I was forced to submit.”
Page 143
Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“And why did you go to Lambert’s camp in preference to
mine?”
“My lord, I will be frank; will your lordship permit me?”
“Yes, and even if need be shall command you to be so.”
“Well, my lord, I was going to M. Lambert’s camp because
those gentlemen from the city pay well — whilst your
Scotchmen, Puritans, Presbyterians, Covenanters, or whatever
you choose to call them, eat but little, and pay for
nothing.”
Monk shrugged his shoulders, without, however, being able to
refrain from smiling at the same time. “How is it that,
being from the south, you come to fish on our coasts?”
“Because I have been fool enough to marry in Picardy.”
“Yes; but even Picardy is not England.”
“My lord, man shoves his boat into the sea, but God and the
wind do the rest, and drive the boat where they please.”
“You had, then, no intention of landing on our coasts?”
“Never.”
“And what route were you steering?”
“We were returning from Ostend, where some mackerel had
already been seen, when a sharp wind from the south drove us
from our course; then, seeing that it was useless to
struggle against it, we let it drive us. It then became
necessary, not to lose our fish, which were good, to go and
sell them at the nearest English port, and that was
Newcastle. We were told the opportunity was good, as there
was an increase of population in the camp, an increase of
population in the city; both, we were told, were full of
gentlemen, very rich and very hungry. So we steered our
course towards Newcastle.”
“And your companions, where are they?”
“Oh, my companions have remained on board; they are sailors
without the least instruction.”
“Whilst you —- ” said Monk.
“Who, I?” said the patron, laughing; “I have sailed about
with my father, and I know what is called a sou, a crown, a
pistole, a louis, and a double louis, in all the languages
of Europe; my crew, therefore, listen to me as they would to
an oracle, and obey me as if I were an admiral.”
“Then it was you who preferred M. Lambert as the best
customer?”
“Yes, certainly. And, to be frank, my lord, was I wrong?”