Chapter 56: The Great Escape: IV
"Who are you?" the captain asked in heavily accented French.
"I’m a sailor from Malta," Dantès replied in equally poor Italian. "We were carrying grain from Sicily when last night’s storm caught us near the cape. Our ship was wrecked on those rocks."
"Where did you come from?"
"From those rocks where I was lucky enough to find something to hold onto while our captain and the rest of the crew drowned. When I saw your ship, I was afraid I’d be left to die on that deserted island, so I swam out on a piece of wreckage to try to intercept your course. You saved my life, and I’m grateful." He looked at the sailor who had pulled him from the water. "I was going under when you grabbed my hair."
"That was me," said a frank-looking, honest-faced sailor. "And it was just in time, you were sinking fast."
"Yes," Dantès said, extending his hand. "Thank you again."
"I almost didn’t help you," the sailor admitted with a grin. "With that six-inch beard and foot-long hair, you looked more like a pirate than an honest merchant sailor."
Dantès had forgotten that his hair and beard had grown wild during his years in prison.
"I made a vow to the Virgin Mary," he said quickly. "If I was saved from mortal danger, I wouldn’t cut my hair or beard for ten years. But today, the vow expires."
"So what are we supposed to do with you now?" the captain asked.
"Whatever you think is best. My captain is dead and I barely escaped with my life, but I’m a skilled sailor. Drop me off at your next port and I’ll find work easily enough."
"Do you know the Mediterranean well?"
"I’ve sailed these waters since I was a child."
"You know the good harbors?"
"I could navigate into or out of most ports blindfolded."
"Captain," said the sailor who had rescued Dantès, "if what he’s saying is true, why not let him stay with us?"
"If what he’s saying is true," the captain replied skeptically. "In his current condition, he’d promise anything and worry about keeping his word later."
"I’ll do more than I promise," Dantès said firmly.
"We’ll see about that," the captain replied with a slight smile.
"Where are you headed?" Dantès asked.
"Livorno." A port city in Italy.
"Then why are you zigzagging so much instead of sailing more directly into the wind?"
"Because we’d run straight into Rion island if we did that."
"You could pass it easily with twenty fathoms to spare."
"Take the wheel and show us what you know."
Dantès took control of the ship’s steering, testing how quickly it responded to the rudder. The vessel wasn’t the finest he’d ever sailed, but it was reasonably obedient.
"Adjust the sails!" he called out. The four crew members followed his orders while the captain watched carefully.
"Pull tight!" They obeyed.
"Secure them!" This order was also executed perfectly, and the ship passed the island exactly as Dantès had predicted, twenty fathoms to the safe side.
"Excellent!" said the captain.
"Excellent!" echoed the sailors. They all stared in amazement at this man whose eyes now showed sharp intelligence and whose body displayed strength they hadn’t thought him capable of.
"As you can see," Dantès said, stepping away from the wheel, "I’ll be useful to you, at least during the voyage. If you don’t need me in Livorno, you can leave me there, and I’ll pay you back for food and clothes from my first wages."
"We can work something out," said the captain, "if you’re reasonable about payment."
"Give me the same as the others and we’ll be fine," Dantès replied.
"That’s not fair," protested the sailor who had saved him. "You clearly know more than we do."
"What’s that to you, Jacopo?" the captain said. "Everyone’s free to negotiate their own terms."
"True enough," Jacopo admitted. "I was just making an observation."
"Well, instead of making observations, why don’t you find him a jacket and some pants if you have any spare?"
"I don’t have those," said Jacopo, "but I’ve got a shirt and trousers."
"That’s all I need," Dantès interjected.
Jacopo disappeared below deck and quickly returned with the clothes Dantès needed.
"Anything else you want?" asked the captain.
"Just some bread and another drink of that excellent rum I tasted, I haven’t eaten or drunk anything for a very long time." It had actually been forty hours since his last meal, but he didn’t want to be too specific.
Someone brought bread while Jacopo offered him the rum container.
"Turn to port!" the captain suddenly shouted to the helmsman.
As Dantès raised the rum to his mouth, he glanced in that direction and froze with the container halfway to his lips.
"What’s happening at the fortress?" the captain asked.
A small white puff of smoke had appeared at the top of the prison’s main tower, catching Dantès’ attention. A moment later, the faint sound of a cannon shot drifted across the water. The sailors looked at each other with puzzled expressions.
"What’s that about?" the captain wondered.
"A prisoner has escaped from the fortress," Dantès replied calmly, "and they’re firing the alarm gun."
The captain glanced at him suspiciously, but Dantès had lifted the rum to his lips and was drinking with such perfect composure that any doubts the captain might have had quickly faded.
"Strong stuff!" Dantès said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
’Well,’ he thought to himself, ’if that’s what it is, so much the better. I’ve made quite a catch here.’
Pretending to be tired from his ordeal, Dantès asked to take over steering duties. The helmsman was happy to be relieved, looked to the captain for approval, and received a nod indicating he could turn the wheel over to their new crew member. This allowed Dantès to keep his eyes on the harbor town in the distance.
"What’s today’s date?" he asked Jacopo, who had sat down beside him.
"February 28th."
"What year?"
"What year? You’re asking me what year it is?"
"Yes," the young man replied. "What year is it?"
"Have you forgotten?"
"I got such a shock last night," Dantès said with a smile, "that it almost wiped out my memory. What year is this?"
"1829," Jacopo answered.
It had been exactly fourteen years, day for day, since Dantès’ arrest. He had been nineteen when he entered the fortress prison; he was thirty-three when he escaped. A sad smile crossed his face as he wondered what had become of his fiancée, who must have given him up for dead long ago.
Then his eyes blazed with hatred as he thought of the three men who had caused his long and miserable imprisonment. He renewed the oath of implacable vengeance he had sworn in his dungeon cell against Danglars, Fernand, and Villefort.
This was no longer an empty threat. Even the fastest ship in the Mediterranean wouldn’t be able to catch the little trading vessel that was now flying toward Italy with every sail filled by the favorable wind.