The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [242]
They entered the roads; but as they were preparing to drop anchor, a small, heavily armed cutter approached the merchant vessel, claiming to be the coast guard, and lowered its longboat, which headed for the boarding ladder. The longboat contained an officer, a bosun’s mate, and eight oarsmen. The officer alone came aboard, where he was received with all the deference a uniform inspires.
The officer conversed for a few moments with the skipper, had him read a paper of which he was the bearer, and, at the order of the merchant captain, the entire crew of the vessel, sailors and passengers, was summoned on deck.
When this sort of summons had been made, the officer inquired in a loud voice about the brig’s point of departure, her course, her landfalls, and the captain answered all these questions without hesitation or difficulty. Then the officer began to pass all the people in review one after another, and, stopping at Milady, scrutinized her with great care, but without addressing a single word to her.
Then he went back to the captain and spoke a few more words to him, and, as if it was him that the vessel had henceforth to obey, gave orders for a maneuver that the crew executed at once. Then the vessel started on her way again, still escorted by the little cutter, which sailed alongside her, threatening her flank with the mouths of its six cannons, while the longboat followed in the ship’s wake, a feeble speck next to that enormous mass.
During the officer’s examination of Milady, Milady, as one might well imagine, had for her part devoured him with her gaze. But, accustomed as this woman with flaming eyes was to reading the hearts of those whose secrets she needed to guess, this time she found a face of such impassivity that her investigation yielded no discoveries. The officer who had stopped in front of her and had silently studied her with such care might have been twenty-five or twenty-six years old; he was white of face, with slightly deep-set light blue eyes; his mouth, thin and well-formed, remained motionless in its pure lines; his chin, vigorously prominent, denoted that force of will which, in the common British type, is ordinarily no more than obstinacy; a slightly receding forehead, as is proper to poets, enthusiasts, and soldiers, was barely shaded by short and sparse hair, which, like the beard that covered the lower part of his face, was of a beautiful deep chestnut color.
It was already night when they entered port. Fog thickened the darkness still more and formed a ring around the beacons and lanterns of the jetties like the ring around the moon when the weather threatens to turn rainy. The air one breathed was sad, damp, and chilly.
Milady, who was such a strong woman, felt herself shivering despite herself.
The officer had Milady’s bundles pointed out to him, had her baggage transferred to the longboat, and, once this operation had been carried out, invited her to climb down to it herself by offering her his hand.
Milady looked at the man and hesitated.
“Who are you, Monsieur,” she asked, “who are so kind as to pay such particular attention to me?”
“You should be able to see that, Madame, by my uniform. I am an officer in the English navy,” replied the young man.
“But, after all, is it customary for officers of the English navy to put themselves at the orders of their lady compatriots when they approach a British port, and push their gallantry so far as to see them ashore?”
“Yes, Milady, it is customary, not out of gallantry, but out of prudence, that in times of war foreigners be taken to a designated hotel, so that, until there is full information about them, they remain under government surveillance.”
These words were uttered with the most correct