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Updated: June 17, 2025


Immediately, and according to custom, the ramparts of Fort Saint-Jean were covered with spectators; it is always an event at Marseilles for a ship to come into port, especially when this ship, like the Pharaon, has been built, rigged, and laden at the old Phocee docks, and belongs to an owner of the city.

"'All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been here a week, and the only living creature who seemed to recollect me was the Pharaon. Bar the Sirons, of course, and the perennial Bodmer." "Is there no survivor?" I inquired. "Of our geological epoch? not one," he replied. "This is the city of Petra in Edom." "And what sort of Bedouins encamp among the ruins?" I asked.

"My name is Edmond Dantes," replied the young man calmly; "I am mate of the Pharaon, belonging to Messrs. Morrel & Son." "Your age?" continued Villefort. "Nineteen," returned Dantes. "What were you doing at the moment you were arrested?"

The first person to attract the attention of Dantes, as he landed on the Canebiere, was one of the crew belonging to the Pharaon. Edmond welcomed the meeting with this fellow who had been one of his own sailors as a sure means of testing the extent of the change which time had worked in his own appearance.

"And it is not yours?" "No, she is a Bordeaux vessel, La Gironde; she comes from India also; but she is not mine." "Perhaps she has spoken to the Pharaon, and brings you some tidings of her?" "Shall I tell you plainly one thing, sir? I dread almost as much to receive any tidings of my vessel as to remain in doubt. Uncertainty is still hope."

"He did not know," said the abbe. "But he knows it all now," interrupted Caderousse; "they say the dead know everything." There was a brief silence; the abbe rose and paced up and down pensively, and then resumed his seat. "You have two or three times mentioned a M. Morrel," he said; "who was he?" "The owner of the Pharaon and patron of Dantes."

"Monsieur Morrel!" "It is his voice!" said Julie. At this moment Emmanuel entered, his countenance full of animation and joy. "The Pharaon!" he cried; "the Pharaon!" "What what the Pharaon! Are you mad, Emmanuel? You know the vessel is lost." "The Pharaon, sir they signal the Pharaon! The Pharaon is entering the harbor!"

Fourteen years before, Edmond Dantes, the young sailor, was joyously returning to the harbor of Marseilles on board the Pharaon, belonging to Monsieur Morrel. His captain had died on the trip and he was promised the vacant place. As soon as he had landed he hastened to his bride, the Catalan Mercedes, to announce to her that he could now lead her to the altar. Then he was suddenly arrested.

"No more ships!" returned Penelon; "well, then, you'll build some; we'll wait for you." "I have no money to build ships with, Penelon," said the poor owner mournfully, "so I cannot accept your kind offer." "No more money? Then you must not pay us; we can scud, like the Pharaon, under bare poles."

Dantes paused a moment, then said, "This is it, word for word: 'The king's attorney is informed by a friend to the throne and religion, that one Edmond Dantes, mate on board the Pharaon, this day arrived from Smyrna, after having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has been intrusted by Murat with a packet for the usurper; again, by the usurper, with a letter for the Bonapartist Club in Paris.

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