"You babbling fool! It's not your life, it's your property we want."This was Grandmaison, the fencing-master, who once had been a gentleman. He had been supping with Carrier, and he had only just arrived at Le Bouffay, accompanied by Goullin. He found the work behind time, and told them so.
"Leave that fellow now, Jolly. He's fast enough. Up and fetch the rest. It's time to be going . . . time to be going."Flung aside now that he was pinioned, Leroy sat down on the floor and looked about him. Near him an elderly man was begging for a cup of water. They greeted the prayer with jeering laughter.
"Water! By Sainte Guillotine, he asks for water!" The drunken sans-culottes were intensely amused. "Patience, my friend -patience, and you shall drink your fill. You shall drink from the great cup."Soon the porter's lodge was crowded with prisoners, and they were overflowing into the passage.
Came Grandmaison cursing and swearing at the sluggishness of the Marats, reminding them - as he had been reminding them for the last hour - that it was time to be off, that the tide was on the ebb.
Stimulated by him, Jolly - the red-capped giant with the black mustaches - and some others of the Marat Company, set themselves to tie the prisoners into chains of twenty, further to ensure against possible evasion. They were driven into the chilly courtyard, and there Grandmaison, followed by a fellow with a lantern, passed along the ranks counting them.
The result infuriated him.
"A hundred and five!" he roared, and swore horribly. "You have been here nearly five hours, and in all that time you have managed to truss up only a hundred and five. Are we never to get through with it? I tell you the tide is ebbing. It is time to be off."Laqueze, the porter of Le Bouffay, with whose food and wine those myrmidons of the committee had made so disgracefully free, came to assure him that he had all who were in the prison.
"All?" cried Grandmaison, aghast. "But according to the list there should have been nearer two hundred." And he raised his voice to call: "Goullin! Hola, Goullin! Where the devil is Goullin?""The list," Laqueze told him, "was drawn up from the register. But you have not noted that many have died since they came - we have had the fever here - and that a few are now in hospital.""In hospital! Bah! Go up, some of you, and fetch them. We are taking them somewhere where they will be cured." And then he hailed the elegant Goullin, who came up wrapped in a cloak. "Here's a fine bathing-party!" he grumbled. "A rare hundred of these swine!"Goullin turned to Laqueze.
"What have you done with the fifteen brigands I sent you this evening?""But they only reached Nantes to-day," said Laqueze, who understood nothing of these extraordinary proceedings. "They have not yet been registered, not even examined.""I asked you what you have done with them?" snapped Goullin.
"They are upstairs."
"Then fetch them. They are as good as any others."With these, and a dozen or so dragged from sick-beds, the total was made up to about a hundred and thirty.
The Marats, further reinforced now by half a company of National Guards, set out from the prison towards five o'clock in the morning;urging their victims along with blows and curses.
Our cocassier found himself bound wrist to wrist with a young Capuchin brother, who stumbled along in patient resignation, his head bowed, his lips moving as if he were in prayer.
"Can you guess what they are going to do with us?" murmured Leroy.
He caught the faint gleam of the Capuchin's eyes in the gloom.
"I do not know, brother. Commend yourself to God, and so be prepared for whatever may befall."The answer was not very comforting to a man of Leroy's temperament.
He stumbled on, and they came now upon the Place du Bouffay, where the red guillotine loomed in ghostly outline, and headed towards the Quai Tourville. Thence they were marched by the river the whole length of the Quai La Fosse. Fear spreading amongst them, some clamours were raised, to be instantly silenced by blows and assurances that they were to be shipped to Belle Isle, where they were to be set to work to build a fort.
The cocassier thought this likely enough, and found it more comforting than saying his prayers - a trick which he had long since lost.
As they defiled along the quays, an occasional window was thrown up, and an inquisitive head protruded, to be almost instantly withdrawn again.
On the Cale Robin at last they were herded into a shed which opened on to the water. Here they found a large lighter alongside, and they beheld in the lantern-light the silhouettes of a half-dozen shipwrights busily at work upon it, whilst the place rang with the blows of hammers and the scream of saws.
Some of those nearest the barge saw what was being done. Two great ports were being opened in the vessel's side, and over one of these thus opened the shipwrights were nailing planks. They observed that these ports, which remained above the water-line now that the barge was empty, would be well below it once she were laden, and conceiving that they perceived at last the inhuman fate awaiting them, their terror rose again. They remembered snatches of conversation and grim jests uttered by the Marats in Le Bouffay, which suddenly became clear, and the alarm spreading amongst them, they writhed and clamoured, screamed for mercy, cursed and raved.
Blows were showered upon them. In vain was it sought to quiet them again with that fable of a fort to be constructed on Belle Isle.
One of them in a frenzy of despair tore himself free of his bonds, profited by a moment of confusion, and vanished so thoroughly that Grandmaison and his men lost a quarter of an hour seeking him in vain, and would have so spent the remainder of the night but for a sharp word from a man in a greatcoat and a round hat who stood looking on in conversation with Goullin.
"Get on, man! Never mind that one! We'll have him later. It will be daylight soon. You've wasted time enough already."It was Carrier.
