Mathias Sandorf

During these events which concerned Pierre so intimately he grew better from day to day. Soon there was no reason for anxiety about his wound. It had almost completely healed. But great were Pierre’s sufferings as he thought of his mother and of Sava—whom he believed to be lost to him.

His mother? She could not be left under the supposition of her son’s fictitious death. It had been agreed that she should be cautiously informed of the real state of things and brought to Antekirtta. One of the doctor’s agents at Ragusa had orders not to lose sight of her until Pierre was completely restored to health and that would be very soon.

As far as Sava was concerned, Pierre was doomed never to speak of her to Dr. Antekirtt. But although he thought she was now Sarcany’s wife, how could he forget her? Had he ceased to love her because she was the daughter of Silas Toronthal? No! After all, was Sava responsible for her father’s crime? But it was that crime that brought Stephen Bathory to his death! Hence a continual struggle within him, of which Pierre alone could tell the innumerable vicissitudes.

The doctor felt this. And to give the young thoughts another direction, he constantly spoke to him of the act of justice they were to work out together. The traitors must be punished, and they should be. How they were to reach them they did not yet know, but they would reach them.

“A thousand roads, one end!” said the doctor.

And if need be he would follow the thousand roads to reach that end.

During the last days of his convalescence Pierre went about the island, sometimes on foot, sometimes in a carriage. And he was astonished at what the little colony had become under the administration of Dr. Antekirtt.

Work was going on at the fortifications destined to protect the town, the harbor, and in short the whole island from attack. When the works were finished they were to be armed with long-range guns, which from their position would cross their fires and thus render the approach of an enemy’s ship impossible.

Electricity was to play an important part in the defensive system, not only in firing the torpedoes with which the channel was armed, but even in discharging the guns in the batteries. The doctor had learned how to obtain the most marvelous results from this agent to which the future belongs. The central station, provided with steam motors and boilers, contained twenty dynamo machines on a new and greatly improved system, and there the currents were produced which special accumulators of extraordinary intensity stored up in convenient form for the general use of Antekirtta—the water supply, the lighting of the town, telegraphs, telephones, and the circular and other railways on the island. In a word, the doctor had applied the studies of his youth to practical purposes, and realized one of the desiderata of modern science—the transmission of power to a distance by electric agency. Having succeeded in this he had had vessels built as we have seen, and the “Electrics” with their excessive speed enabled him to move with the rapidity of an express from one end of the Mediterranean to the other. As coal was indispensable for the steam engines which were required to produce the electricity, there was always a considerable stock in store at Antekirtta, and this stock was continually renewed by a ship that traded backward and forward to Wales.

The harbor from which the little town rose in the form of an amphitheater was a natural one, and had been greatly improved. Two jetties, a mole, and a breakwater made it safe in all weathers. And there was always a good depth of water, even alongside the wharves, so that at all times the flotilla of Antekirtta was in perfect security. This flotilla comprised the schooner “Savarena,” the steam collier working to Swansea and Cardiff, a steam yacht of between seven and eight hundred tons named the “Ferrato,” and three “Electrics,” of which two were fitted as torpedo boats which could usefully contribute to the defense of the island.

Under the doctor’s direction Antekirtta saw its means of resistance improve from day to day, and of this the pirates of Tripoli were well aware. Great was their desire to capture it, for its possession would be of great advantage to the grand master of Senousism, Sidi Mohammed El Mahdi. But knowing the difficulties of the undertaking, they waited their opportunity with that patience which is one of the chief characteristics of the Arab. The doctor knew all this, and actively pushed on his defensive works. To reduce them when they were finished the most modern engines of destruction would be required, and these the Senousists did not yet possess. All the inhabitants of the island between eighteen and forty were formed into companies of militia, provided with the newest arms of precision, drilled in artillery maneuvers, and commanded by officers of their own élection, and this militia made up a force of five to six hundred trustworthy men.

Although there were a few farms in the country, by far the greater number of colonists lived in the town which had received the Transylvanian name of Artenak in remembrance of the Count Sandorf’s estate on the Carpathian slopes. A picturesque place was Artenak with its few hundred houses. Instead of being built like a chessboard in the American style, with roads and avenues running at right angles, it was arranged irregularly. The houses clustered on the smaller hills shaded with orange-trees and standing amid beautiful gardens, some of European, some of Arab design, and past them flowed the pleasant, cooling streams from the water-works. It was a city in which the inhabitants were members of the same family, and could live their lives in common without forfeiting the quiet and independence of home. Happy were the people of Antekirtta. “Ubi bene, ibi patria,” is perhaps not a very patriotic motto, but it was appropriate enough for those who had gathered at the doctor’s invitation and left their old country, in which they had been miserable, to find happiness and comfort in this hospitable island.

Doctor Antekirtt lived in what was known as the Stadthaus—not as their master, but as the first among them. This was one of those beautiful Moorish dwellings with miradores and moucharabys, interior court, galleries, porticoes, fountains, saloons and rooms decorated by clever ornamentists from the Arabic provinces. In its construction the most precious materials had been employed—marble and onyx from the rich mountain of Filfila on the Numidian Gulf, a few miles from Philippeville—worked and introduced with as much knowlege as taste. carbonates lend themselves marvelously to an architect’s fancies, and under the powerful climate of Africa soon clothe themselves with that golden tone that the sun bestows on the buildings of the East. At the back of the city rose the tower of the small church built of the black and white marble from the same quarry, which served indeed for all the requirements of architecture and statuary, and which with its blue and yellow veins was curiously similar to the ancient products of Paros and Carrara.

Outside the town on the neighboring hills were a few houses, a villa or two, a small hospital at the highest point, where the doctor intended to send his patients—when he had them. On the hill-sides, sloping to the sea there were groups of houses forming a bathing station. Among the other houses one of the most comfortable—a low block-house-looking building near the entrance on to the mole—was called “Villa Pescade and Matifou,” and there the two inseparables had taken up their quarters with a servant of their own. Never had they dreamed of such affluence!

“This is good!” remarked Cape Matifou over and over again.

“Too good!” answered Point Pescade. “It is much too good for us! Look here, Cape Matifou, we must educate ourselves, go to college, get the grammar prize, obtain our certificates of proficiency.”

“But you are educated, Point Pescade.” replied the Hercules. “You know how to read, to write, to cipher—”

In fact, by the side of his comrade Point Pescade would have passed for a man of science! But he knew well enough how deficient he was. All the schooling he had had was at the “Lycée des Carpes de Fontainebleau,” as he called it. And so he was an assiduous student in the library of Artenak, and in his attempt to educate himself he read and worked, while Cape Matifou, with the doctor’s permission, cleared away the sand and rocks on the shore, so as to form a small fishing harbor.

Pierre gave Pescade every encouragement, for he had recognized his more than ordinary intelligence which only required cultivation. He constituted himself his professor, and directed his studies so as to give him very complete elementary instruction, and his pupil made rapid progress. There were other reasons why Pierre should interest himself in Point Pescade. Was he not acquainted with his past life? Had he not been intrusted with the task of watching Toronthal’s house? Had he not been in the Stradone during the procession when Sava had swooned? More than once Point Pescade had had to tell the story of the sad events in which he had indirectly taken part. It was to him alone that Pierre could talk when his heart was too full for him to be silent. But the time was approaching when the doctor could put his double plan into execution—first to reward, then to punish.

That which he could not do for Andrea Ferrato, who had died a few months after his sentence, he wished to do for his children. Unfortunately his agents had as yet been unable to discover what had become of them. After their father’s death Luigi and his sister had left Rovigno and Istria, but where had they gone? No one knew, no one could say. The doctor was much concerned at this, but he did not give up the hope of finding the children of the man who had sacrificed himself for him, and by his orders the search was continued.

Pierre’s wish was that his mother should be brought to Antekirtta; but the doctor, thinking of taking advantage of Pierre’s pretended death, as he had of his own, made him understand the necessity of preceeding with extreme prudence. Besides, he wished to wait till the convalescent had regained sufficient strength to accompany him in his campaign; and as he knew that Sava’s marriage had been postponed by the death of Mme. Toronthal, he had decided to do nothing until the wedding had taken place.

One of his agents at Ragusa kept him informed of all that took place, and watched Mme. Bathory’s house with as much care as he did Toronthal’s. Such was the state of affairs, and the doctor waited with impatience for the delay as to the wedding to come to an end. If he did not know what had become of Carpena, whose track he had lost after his departure from Rovigno, Toronthal and Sarcany at Ragusa could not escape him. Suddenly, on the 20th of August, there arrived a telegram informing him of the disappearance of Silas Toronthal, Sava, and Sarcany, and also of Mme. Bathory and Borik, who had just left Ragusa without giving any clew to their destination.

The doctor could delay no longer. He told Pierre what had happened, and hid nothing from him. Another terrible blow for him! His mother disappeared, Sava dragged off they knew not where by Silas Toronthal, and, there was no doubt, still in Sarcany’s hands.

“We shall start to-morrow,” said the doctor.

“To-day!” exclaimed Pierre. “But where shall we look for my mother? Where shall we look for—”

He did not finish the sentence. The doctor interrupted him—

“I do not know if it is only a coincidence. Perhaps Toronthal and Sarcany have something to do with Madame Bathory’s disappearance. We shall see. But we must be after the two scoundrels first.”

“Where shall we find them?”

“In Sicily—perhaps.”

It will be remembered that in the conversation between Sarcany and Zirone which the doctor overheard in the donjon of Pisino, Zirone had spoken of Sicily as the usual scene of his exploits, and proposed that his companion should join him there if circumstances required it. The doctor had not forgotten this, nor had he forgotten the name of Zirone. It was a feeble clew, perhaps, but in default of any other it might set them again on the trail of Sarcany and Toronthal.

The start was immediately decided on. Point Pescade and Cape Matifou were informed that they would be wanted to go to the doctor. Point Pescade at the same time was told who Toronthal, Sarcany and Carpena were,

“Three scoundrels!” he said. “And no mistake!”

Then he told Cape Matifou—

“You will come on the scene soon.”

“Now?”

“Yes, but you must wait for the cue.”

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