As the baron and the captain approached the city, they saw the whirlwind of flames more distinctly.
The bells continued to ring at random; a thousand cries, more or less distinct, mingled with the bursts of musketry and the roar of artillery from the galleys.
When they arrived behind the walls of the Ursuline convent, situated at the extreme end of the city, Raimond V. said: “Captain, let us halt here a moment to collect our people and agree upon operations. Manjour! I feel young again; the blood thickens in my veins. I have not felt that since the wars of Piedmont; it is because a pirate is worse than a foreigner, and in the civil wars, a man’s heart is oppressed in spite of himself. Silence!” said the baron to his troops as he turned around. “Let us hear where the firing comes from.”
After listening closely for some minutes, he said to the captain: “Will you listen to my counsel?”
“I will follow your orders, monseigneur, for I am not well acquainted with La Ciotat.”
Then, addressing one of his men, Raimond V. said: “Do you conduct the captain and his soldiers to the port, going around the city so as not to be seen. When you are there, captain, if there are any more demons to land, you will drive them back to their galleys; if they have all disembarked, do you wait until they return, so as to cut off their retreat; during that time, I will try to beat them up for you like a herd of wild boars.”
“In what part of the city do you think they are, monseigneur?”
“As far as I can judge by the noise of the musketry, they are in the town-hall square, occupied in plundering the houses of the richest citizens. They will not dare venture farther in, as no doubt they are in communication with the port by a little street which goes from that place to the wharf. So, then, captain, to the port,—to the port! let us rather throw these villains back into the sea, than into their vessels. If God gives me life I will expect you at Maison-Forte after the affair, for I do not forget that I am your prisoner. To the port, captain! to the port!”
“Count on me, monseigneur,” said the captain, hastening his march in the direction indicated.
“Now, my children,” said the baron, “keep silence, and let us hurry to the town hall, and put all these brigands to the sword. Our Lady! and forward!” Raimond V. then descended from his horse, and entered the streets of La Ciotat at the head of a determined body of men, full of confidence in their leader.
As Raimond V. approached the centre of action, he recognised, here and there, women who uttered heartrending cries, as they ran in the direction of the mountain, followed by their weeping children, and carrying on their heads their most precious possessions.
In other places, priests and distracted monks, seized with the panic of terror, had left their houses, where they were peaceably keeping Christmas, and were running to throw themselves at the foot of the church altar.
In many deserted streets, armed men stood at their windows, resolved to defend their houses and their families to the utmost, and were thoroughly prepared to give the pirates a vigorous reception.
Clouds of sparks and cinders were encountered by the resolute troops as they steadily marched, and the whirling flames made the streets they crossed as bright as broad day.
At last they reached the square, and, as the baron had foreseen, the principal action was on that side of the town.
The pirates rarely ventured into the streets remote from the coast, for fear of being cut off from their vessels.
It is impossible to paint the spectacle which struck Raimond V. with horror. By the light of the dazzling flames, he saw a part of the pirates engaged in a bloody combat with a number of fishermen and citizens entrenched in the upper story of the town hall.
Other corsairs, thinking only of plunder,—these belonged to the galley of Trimalcyon,—ran like so many demons across the conflagration they had kindled, some laden with costly articles, and others bearing in their robust arms women and young girls, who uttered shrieks of agony and terror.
The ground was already strewn with bodies riddled with wounds, unfortunate victims who at least bore testimony to a desperate resistance on the part of the inhabitants.
Near the middle of the square, and not far from the little street which conducted to the port, could be seen a confused mass of all sorts of objects guarded by two Moors.
The pirates increased this pile of plunder every moment, by coming there and throwing down additional booty, then returning to pillage and murder with renewed ardour.
The number of brave sailors and citizens, who were defending themselves in the town hall, began to diminish sensibly under the blows of the spahis of Pog, who thirsted far more for blood than for pillage.
Armed with a hatchet, Pog attacked the door with fury, voluntarily exposing his life. He wore neither helmet nor cuirass, and was only clothed in his yellek of black velvet.
At the height of this attack Raimond V. arrived on the square.
His troops announced their presence by a general discharge of musketry on the assailants of the town hall.
The pirates, attacked unawares, turned and threw themselves in a rage against the soldiers of the baron. Each side then abandoned firearms. A hand to hand struggle ensued; the conflict became bloody, terrible beyond words to describe. The band of Trimalcyon, seeing this unexpected reinforcement, left their pillage and rallied around Fog’s pirates, surrounding the little company of Raimond V., who was performing prodigies of valour.
The old gentleman seemed to recover the strength of the years of his youth. Armed with a heavy boar-spear, which was provided with a sharp and well-tempered bayonet, he employed this murderous weapon, both lance and club, with tremendous power, and although his helmet was broken in several places and his sword-belt covered with blood, Raimond V., in his enthusiasm as a warrior, did not feel his wounds.
Carried along on the wave of battle, Pog suddenly found himself face to face with the baron. His pale, haughty face, his long red beard, were too conspicuous not to have made a lively impression on Raimond V.
He recognised in this pirate one of the two strangers who accompanied Erebus, at the time of the meeting in the gorges of Ollioules.
“It is the Muscovite who accompanied the brave young man to whom I owe my life,” cried Raimond V.; then he added, as he lifted his spear: “Ah! wild bear, you come from the ice of the north to ravage our provinces!”
And with these words Raimond V. aimed a terrible blow full in the breast. Pog avoided the blow by a quick movement in retreat, but his arm was run through.
“I am a Frenchman, like you,” cried the renegade, with a brutal sneer, “and it is French blood for which I thirst! That your death may be more bitter, know that your daughter is in my power!”
At these terrible words, the baron stood for a moment, bewildered.
Pog profited by his inaction to strike him a terrible blow on the head with his battle-axe. The baron’s helmet had already been broken; he staggered a moment like a drunken man, then fell unconscious.
“Another one of these Proven?al bulls killed!” cried Pog, brandishing his battle-axe.
“Let us avenge our lord!” cried the people of Raimond V., hurling themselves at the pirates with such fury that they drove them back into the little street which led to the port.
Soon, reinforced by the sailors who had been besieged in the town hall, and whom the attack of Raimond V. had just delivered, they had such a decided advantage over the pirates, that the trumpets of the latter sounded a retreat.
At this signal, a part of the brigands formed in good order in the middle of the square, under the command of Pog. Then they made a vigorous resistance so as to give the other pirates time to transport their booty on board the galleys, and to drag to these vessels the men and women they had captured.
Remaining master of the position that he had defended, Pog covered the entrance of the little street leading to the port, and thus assured the retreat of the band of Trimalcyon, occupied in dragging the captives on board the galleys.
Pog, yielding the ground to his enemies, foot by foot, fell back into the little street, sure that h............