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Updated: June 7, 2025
"What for?" asked Murat, looking up. "To put in there, sire, if we can." "No, no," cried Murat; "I will not land except in Corsica. I will not leave France again. Besides, the sea is calm and the wind is getting up again " "Down with the sails!" shouted Donadieu. Instantly Langlade and Blancard jumped forward to carry out the order.
Donadieu turned the rudder, the boat yielded as if it understood the necessity for prompt obedience, and presented the poop to the shock of wind; then the squall passed, leaving the sea quivering, and everything was calm again. The storm took breath. "Will that gust be all?" asked Murat. "No, your Majesty, that was the advance-guard only; the body of the army will be up directly."
At this cry the king awoke; and soon a little trading brig hove in sight, going from Corsica to Toulon. Donadieu steered for the brig, Blancard hoisted enough sail to work the boat, and Langlade ran to the prow and held up the king's cloak on the end of a sort of harpoon.
The boat which was to take him across had not reached the rendezvous, but this time there was not the slightest fear that it would fail; the bay had been reconnoitred during the day by three men devoted to the fallen fortunes of the king Messieurs Blancard, Langlade, and Donadieu, all three naval officers, men of ability and warm heart, who had sworn by their own lives to convey Murat to Corsica, and who were in fact risking their lives in order to accomplish their promise.
Langlade did not answer, but turning towards the west, he raised his hand, and according to the habit of sailors, he whistled to call the wind. "That's no good," said Donadieu, who had remained in the boat. "Here are the first gusts; you will have more than you know what to do with in a minute.... Take care, Langlade, take care! Sometimes in calling the wind you wake up a storm."
Then one of them got up and went to the other end of the boat, whistling between his teeth a Provencal air; then, after examining the sky, the waves; and the boat, he went back to his comrades and sat down, muttering, "Impossible! Except by a miracle, we shall never make the land." The night passed through all its phases. At dawn there was a vessel in sight. "A sail!" cried Donadieu, "a sail!"
Donadieu turned the rudder, the boat yielded as if it understood the necessity for prompt obedience, and presented the poop to the shock of wind; then the squall passed, leaving the sea quivering, and everything was calm again. The storm took breath. "Will that gust be all?" asked Murat. "No, your Majesty, that was the advance-guard only; the body of the army will be up directly."
Then one of them got up and went to the other end of the boat, whistling between his teeth a Provencal air; then, after examining the sky, the waves; and the boat, he went back to his comrades and sat down, muttering, "Impossible! Except by a miracle, we shall never make the land." The night passed through all its phases. At dawn there was a vessel in sight. "A sail!" cried Donadieu, "a sail!"
"Sire," said Donadieu, "you have seen many a battle, but perhaps you have never watched a storm if you are curious about it, cling to the mast, for you have a fine opportunity now." "What ought I to do?" said Murat. "Can I not help you in any way?" "No, not just now, sire; later you will be useful at the pumps."
Donadieu waited until the last, as was his duty, and as he put his foot on the ladder he felt the other boat begin to go under; he turned round with all a sailor's calm, and saw the gulf open its jaws beneath him, and then the shattered boat capsized, and immediately disappeared.
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