men imploring help; she was coming up at full speed. Langlade was the
first to recognise her; she was a Government felucca plying between
Toulon and Bastia. Langlade was a friend of the captain, and he called
his name with the penetrating voice of desperation, and he was heard. It
was high time: the water kept on rising, and the king and his companions
were already up to their knees; the boat groaned in its death-struggle;
it stood still, and began to go round and round.

Just then two or three ropes thrown from the felucca fell upon the boat;
the king seized one, sprang forward, and reached the rope-ladder: he was
saved.

Blancard and Langlade immediately followed. Donadieu waited until the
last, as was his duty, and as he put his foot on the ladder he felt the
other boat begin to go under; he turned round with all a sailor's calm,
and saw the gulf open its jaws beneath him, and then the shattered boat
capsized, and immediately disappeared. Five seconds more, and the four
men who were saved would have been lost beyond recall! [These details are
well known to the people of Toulon, and I have heard them myself a score
of times during the two stays that I made in that town during 1834 and
1835. Some of the people who related them had them first-hand from
Langlade and Donadieu themselves.]

Murat had hardly gained the deck before a man came and fell at his feet:
it was a Mameluke whom he had taken to Egypt in former years, and had
since married at Castellamare; business affairs had taken him to
Marseilles, where by a miracle he had escaped the massacre of his
comrades, and in spite of his disguise and fatigue he had recognised his
former master.