The Shares of Planchet and Company rise again to Par.
During the passage, Monk only spoke to D'Artagnan in cases of urgent necessity.Thus, when the Frenchman hesitated to come and take his meals, poor meals, composed of salt fish, biscuit, and Hollands gin, Monk called him, saying, -- "To table, monsieur, to table!"This was all.D'Artagnan, from being himself on all great occasions extremely concise, did not draw from the general's conciseness a favorable augury of the result of his mission.
Now, as D'Artagnan had plenty of time for reflection, he battered his brains during this time in endeavoring to find out how Athos had seen King Charles, how he had conspired his departure with him, and lastly, how he had entered Monk's camp; and the poor lieutenant of musketeers plucked a hair from his mustache every time he reflected that the horseman who accompanied Monk on the night of the famous abduction must have been Athos.
At length, after a passage of two nights and two days, the patron Keyser touched at the point where Monk, who had given all the orders during the voyage, had commanded they should land.It was exactly at the mouth of the little river, near which Athos had chosen his abode.
Daylight was waning, a splendid sun, like a red steel buckler, was plunging the lower extremity of its disc beneath the blue line of the sea.The felucca was making fair way up the river, tolerably wide in that part, but Monk, in his impatience, desired to be landed, and Keyser's boat set him and D'Artagnan upon the muddy bank, amidst the reeds.D'Artagnan, resigned to obedience, followed Monk exactly as a chained bear follows his master; but the position humiliated him not a little, and he grumbled to himself that the service of kings was a bitter one, and that the best of them was good for nothing.Monk walked with long and hasty strides; it might be thought that he did not yet feel certain of having reached English land.They had already begun to perceive distinctly a few of the cottages of the sailors and fishermen spread over the little quay of this humble port, when, all at once, D'Artagnan cried out, -- "God pardon me, there is a house on fire!"Monk raised his eyes, and perceived there was, in fact, a house which the flames were beginning to devour.It had begun at a little shed belonging to the house, the roof of which had caught.The fresh evening breeze agitated the fire.The two travelers quickened their steps, hearing loud cries, and seeing, as they drew nearer, soldiers with their glittering arms pointing towards the house on fire.It was doubtless this menacing occupation which had made them neglect to signal the felucca.Monk stopped short for an instant, and, for the first time, formulated his thoughts into words."Eh! but," said he, "perhaps they are not my soldiers, but Lambert's."These words contained at once a sorrow, an apprehension, and a reproach perfectly intelligible to D'Artagnan.In fact, during the general's absence, Lambert might have given battle, conquered, and dispersed the parliament's army, and taken with his own the place of Monk's army, deprived of its strongest support.At this doubt, which passed from the mind of Monk to his own, D'Artagnan reasoned in this manner: "One of two things is going to happen; either Monk has spoken correctly, and there are no longer any but Lambertists in the country -- that is to say, enemies, who would receive me wonderfully well, since it is to me they owe their victory;or nothing is changed, and Monk, transported with joy at finding his camp still in the same place, will not prove too severe in his settlement with me." Whilst thinking thus, the two travelers advanced, and began to mingle with a little knot of sailors, who looked on with sorrow at the burning house, but did not dare to say anything on account of the threats of the soldiers.
Monk addressed one of these sailors: -- "What is going on here?" asked he.
"Sir," replied the man, not recognizing Monk as an officer, under the thick cloak which enveloped him, "that house was inhabited by a foreigner, and this foreigner became suspected by the soldiers.They wanted to get into his house under pretense of taking him to the camp; but he, without being frightened by their number, threatened death to the first who should cross the threshold of his door, and as there was one who did venture, the Frenchman stretched him on the earth with a pistol-shot.""Ah! he is a Frenchman, is he?" said D'Artagnan, rubbing his hands."Good!""How good?" replied the fisherman.
"No, I don't mean that.-- What then -- my tongue slipped.""What then, sir -- why, the other men became as enraged as so many lions: they fired more than a hundred shots at the house; but the Frenchman was sheltered by the wall, and every time they tried to enter by the door they met with a shot from his lackey, whose aim is deadly, d'ye see? Every time they threatened the window, they met with a pistol-shot from the master.Look and count -- there are seven men down.
"Ah! my brave countryman," cried D'Artagnan, "wait a little, wait a little.I will be with you, and we will settle with this rabble.""One instant, sir," said Monk, "wait."
"Long?"
"No; only the time to ask a question." Then, turning towards the sailor, "My friend," asked he with an emotion which, in spite of all his self-command, he could not conceal, "whose soldiers are these, pray tell me?""Whose should they be but that madman, Monk's?""There has been no battle, then?"
"A battle, ah, yes! for what purpose? Lambert's army is melting away like snow in April.All come to Monk, officers and soldiers.In a week Lambert won't have fifty men left."The fisherman was interrupted by a fresh discharge directed against the house, and by another pistol-shot which replied to the discharge and struck down the most daring of the aggressors.The rage of the soldiers was at its height.The fire still continued to increase, and a crest of flame and smoke whirled and spread over the roof of the house.
