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- Александр Дюма
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- Граф Монте-Кристо
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- Стр. 1/1279
The Count of Monte Cristo
On
the
24th
of
February
,
1815
,
the
look-out
at
Notre
--
Dame
de
la
Garde
signalled
the
three-master
,
the
Pharaon
from
Smyrna
,
Trieste
,
and
Naples
.
As
usual
,
a
pilot
put
off
immediately
,
and
rounding
the
Chateau
d'If
,
got
on
board
the
vessel
between
Cape
Morgion
and
Rion
island
.
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
.
The
ship
drew
on
and
had
safely
passed
the
strait
,
which
some
volcanic
shock
has
made
between
the
Calasareigne
and
Jaros
islands
;
had
doubled
Pomegue
,
and
approached
the
harbor
under
topsails
,
jib
,
and
spanker
,
but
so
slowly
and
sedately
that
the
idlers
,
with
that
instinct
which
is
the
forerunner
of
evil
,
asked
one
another
what
misfortune
could
have
happened
on
board
.
However
,
those
experienced
in
navigation
saw
plainly
that
if
any
accident
had
occurred
,
it
was
not
to
the
vessel
herself
,
for
she
bore
down
with
all
the
evidence
of
being
skilfully
handled
,
the
anchor
a-cockbill
,
the
jib-boom
guys
already
eased
off
,
and
standing
by
the
side
of
the
pilot
,
who
was
steering
the
Pharaon
towards
the
narrow
entrance
of
the
inner
port
,
was
a
young
man
,
who
,
with
activity
and
vigilant
eye
,
watched
every
motion
of
the
ship
,
and
repeated
each
direction
of
the
pilot
.
The
vague
disquietude
which
prevailed
among
the
spectators
had
so
much
affected
one
of
the
crowd
that
he
did
not
await
the
arrival
of
the
vessel
in
harbor
,
but
jumping
into
a
small
skiff
,
desired
to
be
pulled
alongside
the
Pharaon
,
which
he
reached
as
she
rounded
into
La
Reserve
basin
.
When
the
young
man
on
board
saw
this
person
approach
,
he
left
his
station
by
the
pilot
,
and
,
hat
in
hand
,
leaned
over
the
ship
's
bulwarks
.
He
was
a
fine
,
tall
,
slim
young
fellow
of
eighteen
or
twenty
,
with
black
eyes
,
and
hair
as
dark
as
a
raven
's
wing
;
and
his
whole
appearance
bespoke
that
calmness
and
resolution
peculiar
to
men
accustomed
from
their
cradle
to
contend
with
danger
.
"
Ah
,
is
it
you
,
Dantes
?
"
cried
the
man
in
the
skiff
.
"
What
's
the
matter
?
and
why
have
you
such
an
air
of
sadness
aboard
?
"
"
A
great
misfortune
,
M.
Morrel
,
"
replied
the
young
man
--
"
a
great
misfortune
,
for
me
especially
!
Off
Civita
Vecchia
we
lost
our
brave
Captain
Leclere
.
"
"
And
the
cargo
?
"
inquired
the
owner
,
eagerly
.
