Atlantida | Page 4

obviously
sulking.
In silence we knocked down, one after the other, several of the miserable doves which
came on dragging wings, heavy with the heat of the day, to quench their thirst at the thick
green water. When a half-dozen slaughtered little bodies were lined up at our feet I put
my hand on the Sergeant's shoulder.
"Chatelain!"
He trembled.
"Chatelain, I was rude to you a little while ago. Don't be angry. It was the bad time before
the siesta. The bad time of midday."
"The Lieutenant is master here," he answered in a tone that was meant to be gruff, but
which was only strained.
"Chatelain, don't be angry. You have something to say to me. You know what I mean."
"I don't know really. No, I don't know."
"Chatelain, Chatelain, why not be sensible? Tell me something about Captain de

Saint-Avit."
"I know nothing." He spoke sharply.
"Nothing? Then what were you saying a little while ago?"
"Captain de Saint-Avit is a brave man." He muttered the words with his head still
obstinately bent. "He went alone to Bilma, to the Air, quite alone to those places where
no one had ever been. He is a brave man."
"He is a brave man, undoubtedly," I answered with great restraint. "But he murdered his
companion, Captain Morhange, did he not?"
The old Sergeant trembled.
"He is a brave man," he persisted.
"Chatelain, you are a child. Are you afraid that I am going to repeat what you say to your
new Captain?"
I had touched him to the quick. He drew himself up.
"Sergeant Chatelain is afraid of no one, Lieutenant. He has been at Abomey, against the
Amazons, in a country where a black arm started out from every bush to seize your leg,
while another cut it off for you with one blow of a cutlass."
"Then what they say, what you yourself--"
"That is talk."
"Talk which is repeated in France, Chatelain, everywhere."
He bent his head still lower without replying.
"Ass," I burst out, "will you speak?"
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant," he fairly pled, "I swear that what I know, or nothing--"
"What you know you are going to tell me, and right away. If not, I give you my word of
honor that, for a month, I shall not speak to you except on official business."
Hassi-Inifel: thirty native Arabs and four Europeans--myself, the Sergeant, a Corporal,
and Gourrut. The threat was terrible. It had its effect.
"All right, then, Lieutenant," he said with a great sigh. "But afterwards you must not
blame me for having told you things about a superior which should not be told and come
only from the talk I overheard at mess."
"Tell away."

"It was in 1899. I was then Mess Sergeant at Sfax, with the 4th Spahis. I had a good
record, and besides, as I did not drink, the Adjutant had assigned me to the officers' mess.
It was a soft berth. The marketing, the accounts, recording the library books which were
borrowed (there weren't many), and the key of the wine cupboard,--for with that you can't
trust orderlies. The Colonel was young and dined at mess. One evening he came in late,
looking perturbed, and, as soon as he was seated, called for silence:
"'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I have a communication to make to you, and I shall ask for your
advice. Here is the question. Tomorrow morning the City of Naples lands at Sfax. Aboard
her is Captain de Saint-Avit, recently assigned to Feriana, en route to his post.'
"The Colonel paused. 'Good,' thought I, 'tomorrow's menu is about to be considered.' For
you know the custom, Lieutenant, which has existed ever since there have been any
officers' clubs in Africa. When an officer is passing by, his comrades go to meet him at
the boat and invite him to remain with them for the length of his stay in port. He pays his
score in news from home. On such occasions everything is of the best, even for a simple
lieutenant. At Sfax an officer on a visit meant--one extra course, vintage wine and old
liqueurs.
"But this time I imagined from the looks the officers exchanged that perhaps the old stock
would stay undisturbed in its cupboard.
"'You have all, I think, heard of Captain de Saint-Avit, gentlemen, and the rumors about
him. It is not for us to inquire into them, and the promotion he has had, his decoration if
you will, permits us to hope that they are without foundation. But between not suspecting
an officer of being a criminal, and receiving him at our table as a comrade, there is a gulf
that we are not obliged to bridge. That is the matter on which I ask your advice.'
"There was silence.