Military Servitude and Grandeur

This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1919. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER II HISTORY OF THE RED SEAL First you shall know, my boy, that I was born at Brest. I began by being a troop-child, earning my half-ration and my half-pay from the age of nine. My father was a soldier of the Guards. But I loved the sea. So one fine night while on leave at Brest I stowed away in the hold of a merchantman bound for India. I was not discovered till out at sea, and the captain preferred making me cabin-boy to throwing me overboard. When the Revolution came I had made headway. Having scoured the seas for fifteen years, I had, in my turn, become the captain of a small merchantman, quite a tidy one. When the Royal Ex-Navy--good old Navy, upon my word--suddenly found itself without officers, captains were taken from the merchant marine. I had been through a few filibuster affairs--of which I might tell you later --and I was given command of a war-brig called the Marat. On the 28th of Fructidor, 1797, I received orders to get under sail for Cayenne. I was to take out sixty soldiers and one convict left over from the one hundred and ninety-three the frigate La Decade had taken aboard a few days previous. My orders were to treat this individual with consideration and the first letter from the Directoire enclosed a second sealed with three red seals, in the centre of which was one huge one. I was forbidden to open this letter before the first degree latitude North, from 27 degrees to 28 degrees longitude, that is to say, close to the line. This big letter had a most particular look. It was long and so tightly closed that I could read nothing under the corners nor through the envelope. I am not superstitious, but it scared me, that letter did. I put it in my cabin, under the glass of a bad little English clock nailed over my bed. That bed was a regula...