It is a long harkening from an island in the Clarence to the Faubourg St. Antoine of Paris. But the threads in the wool of Life run far and wide.
In the Faubourg St. Antoine, twenty years before, dwelt one Jean Petit.
Petit’s mother had belonged to the lowest class of French criminals; his father was a person understood.
Bred in the gutters2 of that City by the Seine, where sit the seven devils of Christendom, with the collected devils of Heathendom to keep the watches when they go below—Jean Petit developed in crime.
Let it be said that the criminals of Paris are at once the most degraded and the cleverest in the world. London, New York, and Melbourne produce ruffians and rogues3, but these be as little children to the sons of the sewers4 by the Seine.
The French criminal has all the cunning and the cruelty of the wild beast in addition to his own. In[107] fact, he is more often than not a human tiger, preying5 not as tigers do upon the outside world, but upon his own kind.
He is steeped to the lips in the vices7 of his breed, a wild biped prowling the mazes8 of a great city; an obscene devil-worshipper who cracks indecent jokes at the very steps of the guillotine; a midnight murderer, who does not hesitate to redden his hands for a few sous.
Such was Jean Petit.
He had existed by thieving since he was little more than seven years of age. At twelve he was apprenticed9 to one of the worst house-breaking gangs in Paris; at seventeen he had taken his diploma, and at twenty-two he was a master of arts in the College of Crime.
For three years Petit reigned10 in his native city as an Emperor of Thieves. He was the most daring of the Black Confraternity, the hero of a thousand nefarious11 escapades; the pivot12 on which the world of ruffianism revolved13. Again and again he eluded14 capture. His robberies were so cleverly organised and carried out that he appeared to be more than a match for the detectives, even to those astute15 officers who devote their lives to the study of Jean Petits and their methods.
But at last, as must happen, the perpetrator of a catalogue of crimes, in which arson16 and murder found a place, fell a victim to a slight personal miscalculation.
In escaping from a window by means of a rope ladder, he dropped into the arms of four gendarmes17, and, despite a stubborn resistance, was overpowered.
Various offences were proven against Jean Petit at his trial, and the upshot of the matter was that he took[108] a voyage to the island of New Caledonia in company with some other citizens for whom the French Republic had no use.
Petit escaped the guillotine, but he was transported to Noumea for life.
It had happened that in the struggle with the gendarmes the robber received a heavy blow on the base of the skull18. The consequence of this was that he lost much of the pantherine vivacity19 which had been a part of his character, and became of a more morose20, hy?na-like nature.
He was feared by the prisoners with whom he was associated, and always regarded as a possible source of danger by the authorities.
Unlike those well-bred ruffians whose money or antecendents make them the pets of Convict New Caledonia, and a source of revenue in lower official quarters, Petit was compelled to undergo all the rigours of his sentence.
The man who had ever scorned the idea of labour, who had lived for twenty five years by the labours of others, was set to the quarrying21 of stone!
So the thoughts of Jean Petit,—who had everything to gain and nothing to lose by the attempt—shaped themselves time after time towards escape.
Petit had heard that Australia was a good country, and he longed to go there.
One difficulty, and one only, stood in his way—opportunity.
Twice in ten years he had endeavoured to escape, and each time the attempt had proved a failure.
He had been pronounced an incurable22 criminal. The[109] Republic had experimented on him in vain. He was beyond hope, outside the pale. It was only necessary, therefore, to see that he secured no opportunities to commit crime. Like the wild beast in its cage, it was no longer a question of what would happen if he got out.
But Jean Petit, to whom liberty was as much as to the imprisoned23 tiger, watched and waited.
It is said that everything comes to him who waits, and after many years, in which the morose criminal-lunatic had grown grizzled, hard of flesh, and still harder of heart, time brought him his opportunity.
Petit, watching Fate from the corner of a red eye, saw the road open.
“At the most,” he explained to the three comrades, “we can but die, and be damned into hell. From the hell here to the hell there—it is but a passage.”
The comrades being each desperate criminals like himself, were agreed.
So they succeeded in stealing a whaleboat, and having matured their schemes, they fled one night for liberty, leaving fresh blood-stains behind them.
At sunrise in the morning Jean Petit and his three friends found themselves, with a scanty24 supply of provisions and water, afloat on the Pacific without either chart or compass.
Petit assumed the leadership without formality of election. He was captain and commander. His word, supported by the sharp knife in his belt, became law.
He sat sullenly25 at the tiller, and as the sun rose at the sea margin26, headed the boat south by west.
[110]
Thus commenced one of the strangest voyages in history.
All that day, and the next, and the next, and the next, the boat, with its crew of four, headed south, south and south by west.
They had taken count of food and water, and to each was apportioned27 his share.
Each morning Jean Petit, at whose feet lay the provisions, grimly doled28 out the scanty portions.
At the end of the week a change had come over the four.
They were lean and weatherbeaten; their hands and faces were blistered29 by the sun. Their cheeks were sunken. There was an anxious look in their hollow eyes.
At the end of fourteen days the change was still more remarkable30. Their hair and beards had grown strangely long; their hands had taken the appearance of claws, tipped with long sharp, carnivorous-looking fingernails. Their lips were dry and broken, and their skins had turned from bronze to an ugly yellow.
For ten days there had fallen not a drop of rain; they had left but a pint31 and a half of impure32 water.
On the morning of the fifteenth day Jean Petit divided this, together with the remnant of the food, into four even portions!
Never had the grim red-eyed man at the stern been more exact and precise.
“It is well, comrades,” said he, weighing the last crumb33 of bread, “that we pronounce a benediction34.[111] ‘Eat, drink, and be merry!’” he cried solemnly, “‘for to-morrow we die.’”
The morrow fell and the next morrow.
Upon the rim1 of the Lower Immensity the rim of the Upper Immensity rested, without break in either of sail or cloud.
The next day Jean Petit leaned forward towards the gaunt, motionless, skeletons which gazed with fixed35, burning eyes towards the south.
Jean Petit leaned forward, with his hand upon the haft of his knife, and spake.
His words sounded dull and hollow—coming as it were, from the depths of a vault36 in the awful underworld where lie the mysterious dead.
“There is no reason,” said he, “that all should die.”
The human spectres answered not. Perhaps they had not heard. Perhaps their thoughts were away by cool mountain springs, by spread banquets.
Jean Petit, with strange feverish37 insistence38, repeated his assertion, which was also a question:
“There is no reason that all should die.”
The spectres turned their hollow eyes to him.
Petit read the faces of his three comrades slowly.
The waves, intensely blue and sparkling, rose and fell with awful monotony.
Again, and for the third time, the carnivorous face was thrust forward and the swollen39 lips framed its sentence:
“For what reason should all die?”
In the ears of the others the words sounded like the tolling40 of that bell which heralds41 criminals to execution.[112] They looked not at the waters, not at the sky, not upon each other, but at Jean Petit.
And on the faces of the three was the same questioning, anxious stare.
The red eye grew redder and more devilish.
The man at the tiller tongued his lips and went on in a harsh croak42, like the croaking43 of some foul44 bird of prey6 which had scented45 a carcase:
“Unless we eat soon there is an end!”
The spectres nodded.
“We cannot live another day!”
The spectres passively assented46.
The mouth of one of them was marked with a dark stain, where he had been endeavouring to masticate47 the leather of his shoe.
Jean Petit, not looking from one to the other, but holding all three with his eyes, continued:
“Others have been as we.”
There was a long pause. The whale boat rose slowly upon a wave crest48 and slid silently into the hollow.
The sun poured out his fires upon the ocean in intense silence.
“Others,” murmured Jean Petit, finishing his sentence, “have done it.”
A shudder49 of repulsion passed from one wretched frame to the other.
Petit alone did not shudder. He appeared calm—eager, but calm.
“To-morrow,” he said, “it will be too late!”
“To-morrow,” muttered the three, “we will be dead; what matters.”
[113]
“To-morrow,” said Jean Petit, forming his meaning more precisely50, “one will be dead. The others will live.”
There was a long, long silence.
The boat rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell.
It was fully51 a quarter of an hour before the convict spoke52 again.
Scanning closely the faces of his companions, he asked:
“Is it agreed?”
They answered not, “yes,” nor “no.”
“It—is—agreed!” said Jean Petit, slowly.
His voice was the voice of command, of authority, of organisation53.
The slave had become a master. The subject was at last a king. The man loomed54 up in the cold bulk of Power!
It was a case of survival, if not of the fittest, at least of the strongest.
With a deep-drawn55 sigh of satisfaction the leader drew his knife—which his hand had never left—from its sheath, and stooping forward split out four splinters of uneven56 length from the timbers of the boat.
He closed his left hand upon them, clutching the hilt of the naked knife in his right.
The ends of the splinters alone were visible.
“Come forward!” he ordered.
The three men—their gaze riveted57 on Petit’s left hand as if fascinated—crawled towards him. It was a terrible picture, all the more terrible for the glory[114] and beauty of its setting, for the sparkle and colour and sunshine which were the picture’s frame.
More terrible, too, in its tragic58, portentous59 silence.
“Draw!” he commanded.
The man under whose face the clutched fist was thrust sucked in a deep breath which was almost a moan.
He extended a trembling hand and drew forth60 a single splinter.
“Draw!” repeated Jean Petit, offering to each in turn.
The lots were drawn. The spectres waited, sitting silently, their eyes upon the face of their commander.
“The shortest!” snarled61 the man with the knife.
Their sallow features were full of anguish62. Four men knew that it was the mission of one to die. To die—at once.
For man born of woman death is at all times terrible. But with these death had also a sequel!
Already one was doomed63.
Who?
The voice of Jean Petit rang grim and unearthly. At the word each man unclosed his hand. The open palms lay side by side.
“Thou!” said the helmsman.
The head of the victim fell forward. A shudder, followed by a sob64, convulsed him.
Against a background of blue sky and water rose the hand of Jean Petit, clasping a knife!
Two men turned away their heads!
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1
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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2
gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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3
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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4
sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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5
preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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7
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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8
mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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9
apprenticed
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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11
nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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12
pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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13
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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14
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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15
astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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16
arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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17
gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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18
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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19
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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20
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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21
quarrying
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| v.采石；从采石场采得( quarry的现在分词 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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22
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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23
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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25
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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26
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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27
apportioned
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| vt.分摊，分配（apportion的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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28
doled
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| 救济物( dole的过去式和过去分词 )； 失业救济金 | |
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29
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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30
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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31
pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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32
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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33
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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34
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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35
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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36
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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37
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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38
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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39
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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40
tolling
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| [财]来料加工 | |
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41
heralds
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| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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42
croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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43
croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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44
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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45
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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46
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
masticate
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| v.咀嚼 | |
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48
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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49
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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50
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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51
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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52
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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53
organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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54
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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55
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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56
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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57
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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58
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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59
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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60
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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61
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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62
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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63
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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64
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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