Chapitre 48: The Long Day Of Louis
Thank you ThisguyAEl, Microraptor and Mium for the power stones! Here is a new chapter! Enjoy!
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For four days, the convoy had maintained its course northwest, as if the officers were aiming for Ireland. Luckily, they encountered no misfortune.
Even though no English sails were in sight, the squadron was not out of danger, for at any moment they could cross paths with enemy convoys traveling between the Old Continent and the New World. The only positive point was that, as time passed, the likelihood of such an encounter became more a matter of chance.
If Admiral Edward Hawke wanted to engage them again, he would first have to search a very wide area. After so much time, that was a difficult, though not impossible, task.
Aware of this, the French officers scanned the horizon every hour, searching for a sail. For the moment, they were lucky, but nothing in this world is eternal.
Then, the squadron leader moved to the front of the line of ships, passing in front of the Juste, and set course westward.
They had a southern wind and a favorable current. It was the right moment to change course and head toward the vast American continent, almost entirely claimed by four major European powers.
That morning, the weather was magnificent. Apart from a few scattered, white, cotton-like clouds, nothing disturbed the beautiful blue sky. The sun, dazzling, made the sea shimmer, stretching like a giant tapestry to the horizon, resembling a chest filled with precious stones.
Unfortunately for the sailors aboard the Foudroyant, they were given no time to lounge and enjoy the moment. As every morning, they had to clean the ship's deck.
Armed with a large brush, Louis was on his knees among his comrades, between P'tit Pol and Jules. They formed a long line, and across from them, other sailors and soldiers scrubbed in unison as if to reflect their image.
Ugh! Ah! My hands!
Louis stopped scrubbing for a moment and looked at his hands. They were nothing like they used to be. He wasn't sure what his face looked like now, but if it mirrored his palms, he no longer resembled an angel.
All he knew was that his once-beautiful blond hair had lost all its shine. The rest, he could only imagine.
My hands hurt so much, the young soldier groaned, gently massaging his bruised palms.
They were red, full of cracks and calluses, as if he had spent twenty years at sea. His hands trembled slightly, and he couldn't stop them from shaking because he had overexerted himself.
Around him, the others continued to scrub without slowing down, guided by a sailor's song that the soldiers had begun to memorize after hearing it so often.
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Le corsaire Le Grand Coureur, (The privateer, The Great Runner,)
Est un navire de malheur (Is a ship of misfortune,)
Quand il s'en va croisière, (When it goes cruising,)
Pour aller chasser l'Anglais (To hunt the English,)
Le vent, la mer et la guerre (The wind, the sea, and war)
Tournent contre le Français. (Turn against the Frenchman.)
Allons les gars gai, gai, (Come on, boys, cheer, cheer,)
Allons les gars gaiement ! (Come on, boys, cheerfully!)
.
This song wasn't exactly suited to their work, but by adjusting the tempo, they could find a good rhythm for scrubbing the deck.
Seeing the bosun walking toward him with his dragging steps, Louis quickly picked up his brush and resumed scrubbing the seawater-soaked deck. He clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the pain in his hands and knees from being in such an uncomfortable position. His back also ached from making large, sweeping movements.
With the others, he began to sing.
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Il est parti de Lorient (It left Lorient)
Avec mer belle et bon vent (With calm seas and good wind),
Il cinglait bâbord amure (It sailed on the port tack,)
Naviguant comme un poisson (Sailing like a fish,)
Un grain tombe sur sa mature (A squall hits its mast,)
V'la le corsaire en ponton. (And there goes the privateer put on hold.)
Allons les gars gai, gai, (Come on, boys, cheer, cheer,)
Allons les gars gaiement ! (Come on, boys, cheerfully!)
.
His voice, it seemed to him, had changed a lot since the beginning of this war.
Before, people used to say he had the voice of a nightingale. Today, he felt like he croaked like a bird of ill omen. He noticed it once again, which made him grimace with sadness.
I think my own parents won't recognize me when I return home. I'm afraid to see what I look like now, and even more afraid of what I'll look like tomorrow.
Louis had always been a handsome boy. His mother once told him that from the moment he opened his eyes, she knew he would grow into a fine man. She had been right. As he grew, he became the most handsome boy in Corbie. With his angelic face and sweet voice, he could charm any woman.
What people didn't understand was that this divine gift came with an unfortunate consequence: people tended to only see his physical qualities and overlook everything else. It was as if his entire being was reduced to his good looks and his beautiful voice. Only his friends and family saw beyond his appearance.
He had joined the regiment of Monsieur de Bréhant with them to prove that he had other qualities.
Now, he wondered if he would lose those qualities and return changed, in the worst way. Perhaps he wouldn't return alive at all from this adventure.
Just as François had almost lost his life at Hastenbeck, or Jules at Körbelitz near Magdeburg, he had come close to death several times in Hanover. Like his two friends, he now had a few scars on his body, which had grown quite thin over the months.
The most impressive one was on his thigh. He had received it during a skirmish a few weeks after Jules had been shot—a nasty bayonet wound that, luckily, hadn't caused too much damage. He had been forced to stay in bed for several weeks but had been able to get back on his feet relatively quickly.
His gaze fell on a young soldier in the line opposite. Kneeling on the solid deck, the boy scrubbed the pre-sanded and scoured wood with his small hands to remove the toughest stains and smooth it out. Sweat dripped from his forehead, framed by two rebellious brown strands, and mixed with the seawater that was regularly poured onto the deck.
Sensing eyes on him, the young soldier looked up, and their eyes met.
Ah, why does he have such a handsome face, that one? Pierre, I think his name is.
Despite all the hardships he had endured, this soldier seemed unwilling to lose his delicate features.
He had fairly thin eyebrows, as black as his hair, a small upturned nose, dark eyes, and deep pink lips.
It's not fair! I'm sure I don't look like anything anymore!
Though he had abandoned his white coat, he was one of the few soldiers not working bare-chested.
Louis lowered his eyes and scrubbed harder, as if to vent his frustrations.
Even if he didn't want to be defined by a prince charming face, that didn't mean he was ready to give it up. He simply wanted to prove to the world that he was much more than that!
"Alright, boys! Put away the brushes! We'll rinse it off one last time, and then you can rest a bit!"
The young soldier with hollow cheeks let out a deep sigh of relief and slowly stood up with the agility of an old man. Like the others, he placed his brush in a large tub before stepping aside to allow a few sailors to pour buckets of water over the deck.
"You okay, Louis?" asked Jules from behind, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.
"Ah, yes, I'm just tired. Look at my hands," he said, holding them out to show his palms.
"We're all in the same boat, Louis. Look."
He held out his own hands, palms up, and P'tit Pol did the same. All their hands looked the same.
"Sometimes I envy Jean. Why doesn't he have anything?"
The three friends turned to the big guy, who was happily chatting with a sailor just as tall and strong as he was. They had quickly become friends after holding a strength contest. The sailor, stubborn as a mule, had challenged Jean over and over, inventing new tests each time. Their friend hadn't refused a single one and had grossly won about half of them. The two were too much alike not to get along.
"It's not fair," confirmed P'tit Pol, frowning.
They went to sit in a corner of the ship, between the first and second cannons at the bow of the proud vessel. There, it was less crowded, which made for a much more pleasant place to hold a conversation.
"Is Charles still sleeping?"
"Yes, but that's normal since he was on watch last night. He must be exhausted. By the way, it's your turn tonight, right?" Jules asked Louis.
"That's right. Just thinking about it makes me tired already."
Jules gave a sympathetic smile, knowing it wasn't a fun duty. Unfortunately, they would all have to take their turn at least once, especially if they were really heading for the New World. None of them knew exactly how long the journey would take since every trip was unique depending on the conditions, but it couldn't be less than a month.
According to the most experienced sailors, they should arrive between the end of May and mid-June. Of course, that time could be greatly extended if they encountered a storm along the way.
"Ah! Here comes the food!" P'tit Pol said excitedly, seeing the cabin boys arriving with their meal, rubbing his hands together as if to show his eagerness.
Immediately, the sailors gathered.
Louis stood in the long line and collected his meager meal. Today, they could consider themselves lucky, as they were given a few vegetables, mostly peas. They didn't look appetizing, but that wasn't what mattered.
They were also given some dried and salted beef, along with a piece of bread as hard as wood. Because they had received meat, they were not given any cheese. However, they did get a good ration of red wine.
Just as he was about to start eating, a loud cry echoed behind him.
"To port! Look to port!"
"What is it?!"
"Oh! They're beautiful! And how fast they are!"
"They're jumping!"
Louis and his companions rushed to the left side of the ship and looked into the water. They easily spotted a small pod of gray dolphins swimming alongside the large sailboat, as if racing with them.
They seemed to be having fun, occasionally performing flips in the air before diving back into the sea.
Wow! They're so beautiful! I'm sure they can go even faster! Haha!
The dolphins stayed with them for a while, then disappeared. Louis felt a sense of loneliness wash over him as he no longer saw them swimming around the warship.
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That evening, as the sun sank lower and lower, tinting the sky with a thousand soothing colors, Louis prepared to face his night watch.
The crew gathered in the lower decks. Gradually, the light dimmed, forcing the crew to light the lanterns.
A marine soldier, in his forties, was singing softly, accompanied by a sailor and his violin. His deep voice seemed so sorrowful that no one dared to interrupt him. The lyrics echoed through the decks, moving the sailors who listened. Many of them could relate.
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Brave Marin revient de guerre, tout doux (Brave Sailor Returns from War, So Gently)
Brave Marin revient de guerre, tout doux (Brave Sailor Returns from War, So Gently)
Tout mal chaussé, tout mal vêtu (All poorly shod, all poorly dressed)
Pauvre marin, d'où reviens-tu? (Poor sailor, where are you coming from?)
Tout doux (So gently)
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Madame, je reviens de guerre, tout doux (Madam, I return from war, so gently)
Madame, je reviens de guerre, tout doux (Madam, I return from war, so gently)
Qu'on m'apporte ici le vin blanc (Bring me here some white wine)
Que le marin boit en passant. (That the sailor drinks as he passes.)
Tout doux. (So gently)
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Brave Marin se mit à boire, tout doux (Brave sailor began to drink, so gently)
Brave Marin se mit à boire, tout doux (Brave sailor began to drink, so gently)
Se mit à boire et à chanter (He started drinking and singing)
Et la belle hôtesse à pleurer. (And the fair hostess began to cry.)
Tout doux. (So gently)
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Qu'avez-vous donc, la belle hôtesse, tout doux (What is the matter, fair hostess, so gently)
Qu'avez-vous donc, la belle hôtesse, tout doux (What is the matter, fair hostess, so gently)
Regrettez-vous votre vin blanc (Do you regret your white wine)
Que le marin boit en passant? (That the sailor drinks as he passes?)
Tout doux. (So gently)
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C'est pas mon vin que je regrette, tout doux (It's not my wine that I regret, so gently)
C'est pas mon vin que je regrette, tout doux (It's not my wine that I regret, so gently)
Mais c'est la mort de mon mari (But it's the death of my husband)
Monsieur vous ressemblez à lui. (Sir, you look just like him.)
Tout doux. (So gently)
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Dites-moi donc, la belle hôtesse, tout doux (Tell me then, fair hostess, so gently)
Dites-moi donc, la belle hôtesse, tout doux (Tell me then, fair hostess, so gently)
Vous aviez de lui trois enfants (You had three children with him)
Vous en avez six à présent. (You have six now.)
Tout doux. (So gently)
.
On m'a écrit de ses nouvelles, tout doux (I received news, so gently)
On m'a écrit de ses nouvelles, tout doux (I received news, so gently)
Qu'il était mort et enterré (That he was dead and buried)
Et je me suis remariée. (And I got remarried.)
Tout doux. (So gently)
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Brave Marin vida son verre, tout doux (Brave sailor emptied his glass, so gently)
Brave Marin vida son verre, tout doux (Brave sailor emptied his glass, so gently)
Sans remercier, tout en pleurant (Without a word, while crying)
Il regagna son bâtiment. (He returned to his ship.)
Tout doux. (So gently)
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Louis felt his throat tighten as he listened to this sad song. Even though no wife was waiting for him in Corbie, he imagined himself in the place of this poor man, returning home after years at sea, only to learn that his wife thought him dead and had remarried.
It's so sad! I really don't know how I would react in his place.
With that thought, he slowly stood up, bid his friends goodbye, and, along with others, climbed to the upper deck. Gradually, the ship fell silent.
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Night had long fallen, yet Louis was not asleep. Instead, he had to patrol the deck of Foudroyant, ensuring nothing happened while his comrades rested.
Of course, he wasn't the only one making rounds on the deck. There were a hundred men who weren't allowed to sleep: a helmsman, two officers, gunners, sailors, and lookouts stationed on the masts.
What had happened the first night was the night watch team's negligence. No one should have reached the lifeboats without being noticed. They had received a serious reprimand, even though the desertion attempt had failed.
The pressure on Louis's shoulders was immense.
It's my first time. I don't want to be punished.
The night promised to be very quiet. Yet, despite the warnings, it was difficult to stop the night crew from doing anything other than keeping watch. Most of the time, they whispered to avoid disturbing their comrades sleeping below, but some had taken out games to pass the time faster.
Just as his shift was about to end, Louis was confronted with a situation no one could have anticipated during his inspection of the hold.
"Wait, what?!"
"Shhh! Do you want everyone to hear you?" Pierre responded urgently, his eyes wide, half-naked as he washed himself in the darkness.
"B-but… Pierre, I mean… You…"
"Well?" Pierre pressed, covering his chest with his hands. "Could you at least turn around?"
"Oh, uh, yes, of course! I mean… Sorry."
Pierre clicked his tongue and hastily got dressed, turning his back to Louis, his face redder than a peony.
"B-but you've been with us from the start," Louis whispered. "How… You-you were a woman this whole time?"
"No, it happened this morning! When I woke up, my dick had vanished! Idiot!"
Louis bit his lip hard, realizing his own stupidity.
What an idiot! Really, what an idiot!
"All right," sighed the woman disguised as a man. "You can turn around."
Her eyebrows were furrowed. It was clear she was angry at being discovered, but she also seemed very worried.
"Why did you… why are you… Damn, I don't even know how to talk to you now! What's your real name?"
The woman with black hair hesitated before answering with a sigh.
"Anne-Sophie. My name is Anne-Sophie. But I forbid you from calling me that in front of the others. Talk to me like you always do, or better yet, don't talk to me at all. No one can know, understood? Or I'll cut it off!"
GULP!
Louis nodded vigorously. For some reason, he didn't doubt that this woman, who had faced the same trials as him, was capable of carrying out her threat.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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