Vagabonds of the sea : $b The campaign of a French cruiserLarrouy, Maurice
History
Vagabonds of the sea : $b The campaign of a French cruiser
Larrouy, Maurice
Waldeck-Rousseau (Cruiser); World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, French
But if in the treacherous night or under the kindly sun, I see one of
the companion ships of the _Waldeck-Rousseau_ destroyed, I hope some
inspiration will dictate my conduct. I cannot foresee what it will be.
There are tragedies where the reason stumbles, and man is outdone by
the malignity of things, where only revelation and divine grace permit
him to find his way.
This is the way weariness bewitches one. If we were in action, I should
never feel these dilemmas. I should not like to repeat here what all
my comrades every minute and every hour are saying around me. Never
have the cruisers been plunged into a profounder ennui. The great naval
routes pass north or south of our present beats, the battleships are
at the Peloponnesus, in Crete, and we can no longer see the coasts of
Italy, our companions in recent months. We should never suspect that
land existed if wireless messages did not bring us a suggestion of it.
Whence come these birds which for many days now have followed our
cruiser as it emerged from the winter? What woods, what nests, have
they left? By day they fly from mast to mast, cat-head to bridge, and
by night they hide in dark corners.... We are wandering on the treeless
waste, two or three hundred kilometers from any shore, and yet these
birds with their fragile wings choose our island of steel to rest upon
before continuing their journey. They are very young birds, and carry
themselves badly upon their inexperienced wings.
_14 March._
A swallow, a chaffinch, a robin and a bullfinch, are what I have seen
this morning, about sunrise.
In the wide expanse there was the growing light, a pale moon leaning
towards the west, some idle curls of smoke, and my vague thoughts.
And then, from nowhere, came this chaffinch, and stopped on the
bridge at my feet, looked at me impertinently, seemed reassured by
its examination, and without further concerning itself with me, began
hopping on the floor. Then the swallow arrived, restless and swift, but
so awkward that, as it rested on the steel bars, it swayed and caught
itself as if it thought it was falling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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