REDOUTABLE 1876-1910, 9000-ton battleship, without sails (1890) (wikipedia)

Service in the Mediterranean was much less arduous than in Brest harbor. Signal exercises, rifle, cannon, and revolver firing, and mock warfare between ships and the coasts or between the two parts of the Fleet, one taking the offensive, the other the defensive, constituted our main work. It was with pleasure that the washing of the deck was done every morning.

The final exam earned me the certificate of first-class helmsman.

 

Quartermaster

 

 

I immediately embarked on the cruiser "LA TRIOMPHANTE". Disembarked shortly after, I was directed to the "CONDOR", torpedo cruiser and repeater of the second division of the squadron, where, until the end of 1890, I was part of the crew.

TRIOMPHANTE 1877-1903, LA GALISSONNIERE class cruiser, 4500 tons (adhemar-marine)

At the beginning of May 1890, the second division set sail for the Levant, comprising three battleships and the CONDOR. Leaving Toulon, we put into Bastia, then after crossing the Strait of Messina, we headed for Piraeus. I had the pleasure of making an excursion to the Acropolis of Athens. The sight of all these marvels dating back several centuries captivated my attention; I was happy to contemplate all these beautiful works of which I had so often heard: the Acropolis, the temple of Theseus, the temple of Venus, of Jupiter, etc., etc. The modern city does not correspond to the grandiose picture that the imagination has of the Capital of Greece. The houses have a particular cachet. There are no large stores that we are accustomed to seeing at home; there are open-air stalls, where merchants dressed in French style mingle with others whose costumes recall those of the Scots. The women do not possess the remarkable beauty that characterizes the Circassians.

 

From Piraeus, we set sail for Thessaloniki, where the squadron stayed for fifteen days amidst splendid festivities given in our honor. We visited Smyrna, Jaffa, Port Said, and Alexandria in succession.

CONDOR (1885-1907), torpedo boat, 1200 tons (wikipedia)

From Jaffa, a detachment of sailors and the officers went to Jerusalem. I was to be among these privileged few, but an illness that kept me in the infirmary prevented me from doing so. The month of July was approaching; for a long time, all that was being talked about on board was the promotion board that was to distribute the stripes. The admiral had ordered that the number of promotions to quartermaster be restricted as much as possible. The "CONDOR" could have provided eight new officers, and its number was limited to two. Everyone redoubled their zeal to ingratiate themselves with the superiors. I was not late either. Highly rated by the officers, I had a chance of exchanging my red sardine for the double stripe of quartermaster: which was indeed done.

 

War and Revolution

 

 

Another path now opened up before me: to follow a free course in Rochefort which trained teachers for elementary education in the crews of the Fleet. My conduct, exemplary until then, allowed me to present myself and pass the entrance examination for this course. I had prepared myself at length, thanks to a friend who had given me good lessons in French and arrhythmia.

In Rochefort, I met my brother Antoine, then a sergeant in the marine infantry. While following the basic training program, I learned a little mathematics with Antoine. The final exam took place in August, I came out with a good number, and, shortly after, I joined the "NAIADE" in KOTONOU, while Antoine was sent to Tonkin.

NAIADE (1881-1900), 2nd class cruiser

It was at my request that I was sent to this destination. Having no relatives in Toulon, I had not wanted to return to the Mediterranean, foreseeing the advantages that a distant campaign would bring me. My life's goal had not yet been achieved; I wanted to be a sea captain, and a long voyage would allow me to save money and also to study. The NAIADE was at anchor off Kotonou, and the Dahomey War was in full swing. Constantly busy with exercises and landing campaigns, the heat and the bad climate helped, I could hardly study; besides, I had no one willing to help me. Nevertheless, to occupy my spare time, I began to learn shorthand. After three months, I was able to follow a conversation. This knowledge was very useful for taking notes in the hydrography course. Finally, with peace signed, we left for the Antilles.

 

Since we left Dahomey, cheerfulness had returned on board, and tranquility reigned there too. The "NAIADE," under the command of Admiral de Cuverville, had been a second BRITTANY to us during the seven months we spent at KOTONOU. Communication with the mainland was very difficult and often even impossible because of the bar that was felt throughout the Gulf of Guinea. Drinking water was often lacking. Punishments rained down on those who had the misfortune to let the ship's musketeers hear their complaints.

 

The NAIADE was heading, all sails on it, towards better shores, an officer was giving me lessons and I had changed sleeping places with a colleague, which placed my hammock near a lantern, by the light of which I did the calculations, and studied the lessons given to me by my obliging professor. Successively, we visited KONAKRI, LIBREVILLE, GRAND BASSAM, GABON, MARTINIQUE, GUADELOUPE, MEXICO, NEW ORLEANS where we stayed twenty-two days in the river, NEW YORK and ST PIERRE AND MIQUELON where we celebrated the 14th of July.

 

The cyclone of 1891 which caused so much damage to Martinique found me in the St. Lawrence, in the midst of the celebrations that the French population was giving in honor of our frigate.

 

As quartermaster, I manned the mizzenmast with a squad of helmsmen. I was able to train myself well in handling the sails with the help of a manual.

 

In November 1891, I transferred from the "NAIADE" to the cruiser MACON [sic].
A revolution in Venezuela kept us cruising for a long time at La Guayra.

VILLARS, class of cruiser including the MAGON (1880) (delcampe.net)

At the end of 1892, I joined Toulon, dismissed shortly after, I joined Marseille to continue sailing commercially.

 

 

Merchant Navy

 

 

I had great difficulty in finding a place on a sailing ship as I would have liked. Having left the State service as a quartermaster, I had no certificate from merchant captains; for this reason, sailors accustomed to long-distance voyages were preferred to me.

The little money I had brought with me from the service was spent and they wanted to throw me out of the hotel where I had spent my small nest egg. I had amassed a few hundred francs in my campaign on the NAIADE, but I was not to receive this sum until much later, moreover a savings book in which I had some small change had been stolen from my hotel room. I then decided to return to the State. In Toulon I was told that I had to wait a year before re-enlisting. I had to return to Marseille without a fire or a home and in winter. It was hard. I managed to find a welfare home in the big city where they gave food once a day to the needy. I went there at 9 o'clock, there was already a line of people of both sexes waiting their turn. We lined up in single file, a door opened every ten minutes, about ten people entered a large room, sat down at a table on which steaming soup and a loaf of bread were served. The meal lasted five minutes, then you were asked to give up your seat and pointed to a door opposite the one you had entered through. I slept in a small room on the sixth floor and when I was too cold during the day, I would go and sit near a stove in a church or a library. I once joined a team to unload coffee from a ship coming from South America. It was necessary to carry bags of 80 to 100 kilos a good distance, piling them up. This lasted two days. I could not have continued any longer without collapsing from weakness, fortunately, I managed to get a job as a helmsman at the Transatlantic Company.

CITY OF BREST, 2700 tons (1870-1899) (delcampe.net)

On January 7, 1893, I was assigned to the "VILLE de BREST" (city of BREST). This steamer had suddenly armed to rescue the "VILLE de ST NAZAIRE" which had broken down offshore. This last liner, of which there had been no news, had left Philippeville for more than eight days. 80 miles from Marseille, we sighted the distress signals of the "VILLE DE ST NAZAIRE". Only the following evening, after many maneuvers rendered fruitless by the bad state of the sea, we managed to take the steamer in tow. It was thus brought within sight of the port, and, while help came from the land, we headed for Algeria.

 

From this time until January 1894, I sailed as a helmsman on several ships of the Transatlantic Company making voyages between Marseille, Corsica, the ports of Algeria and Tunisia.

 

Having nowhere to spend my evenings at anchor, I bought a mandolin and had music lessons given to me.

I had obtained very good certificates from my superiors and also amassed fifteen hundred francs, thanks to the savings bank, and a good advance on the examination program.

 

I attended the hydrography course in Marseille with the intention of taking the application exam for the offshore captain's certificate, but the program having been revised that year and finding myself unable to re-embark, I followed the course for the coastal shipping exam.

I still had twelve hundred francs, I wanted to try the long-term exams. It was important for this that I change my way of life. I wanted first of all to get rid of the practical tests that I was free to take a year before the theoretical exam; without delay I set to work.

The stay in Marseille had become impossible for me because of the acquaintances I had made, I went to Toulon.

 

In this new city, I lived in a small room on the rue du Pradel. The very quiet house had as its main tenant an Italian family whose two children, Alfred and Marianne, quickly became my friends. Across from my room was a fashion store. I had no acquaintances in Toulon apart from my colleagues from the hydrography course. Only one classmate came very regularly each day to work with me. My day was well spent. I got up at four in the morning, studied alone until seven; when my colleague came, we reviewed the day's lessons. At nine o'clock, we went to the teacher's lesson and left at eleven o'clock. From then until noon, I copied the notes I had taken in shorthand, and at noon, I went to dinner. I ate my meals in a small workers' restaurant. From eight to eleven o'clock, I was still digging.

Captain's Certificate

The final exam took place in July 1895 and earned me, along with my title of long-distance captain, number two among my twenty-four colleagues. The only family I saw in Toulon was that of my landlady. I was always happy to be at her table when she invited me. Everyone left the house at dawn; the parents had a carpentry workshop and went there, the children left for school; every evening my little friends came to see me. I have kept the best memories of these good people. Returning to Marseille in August 1895, I offered my services to all the shipping companies. I was eager to embark in my new rank and also necessity forced me to hurry my departure. (To complete my studies, I had to borrow three hundred francs from Antoine and twenty francs from my landlady). Despite all my efforts, I spent a good 35 days ashore. In the end, I accepted a position as 2nd Captain on the "Guillaume Tell" in the port of ALGIERS. It was a 2000-ton steamer assigned to voyages between Algeria, Dunkirk, Le Havre, with a return to Cardiff and Newcastle.

 

This ship, already old and in poor condition, held the sea poorly. In the harshest weather, we managed to unload a cargo of grain that we had taken in Oran, bound for Dunkirk and to load coal in Cardiff. In the Bay of Biscay, a violent storm forced us to seek refuge at the mouth of the Guadalquivir, a leak was also declared. The leak being blocked, we were preparing to resume the route for Algiers, when, around two o'clock in the morning, the wind redoubled in violence. Successively, we lost our two davit anchors. Although the engine was running at full speed, the steamer was still carried towards the coast, the reefs of which we could see in the flashes of lightning. At one point, a sea of incalculable force lifted the captain and me from the bridge; For several seconds I found myself under this avalanche of water, I thought I was at sea and lost forever. When I came to, my head was in a hawsehole, from which I managed to free myself. The Captain was also safe and sound.

 

This wave, which almost proved fatal to us, marked the end of the bad weather. The steamer, left to its own devices for a moment, came to a short distance along the foot of a cliff where the ship would have broken at the slightest impact. Miraculously, we found ourselves to leeward of the cliff, carried along by the tidal wave. The sea, a little more manageable, allowed us to recognize ourselves in the chaos of debris of all kinds piled up on the deck. With the wood from the broken boats and the demolished bulkheads, we activated the engine lights. It was around 3 a.m., the engine under pressure and underway at full speed allowed us to return to the open sea. Almost helpless, two days later we returned to Algiers.

 

The shipowners, having complaints about the captain, replaced him. Once unloading was complete, we went to Oran to pick up wine for Rouen. On this second voyage, we unloaded 1,600 tons of coal in Algiers, and on January 7, 1896, we had 352 barrels of wine in the holds, bound for Le Havre. The captain was with his family; everything was ready to complete the loading the next day and set sail in the evening. Around 10 p.m., the barometer began to drop, and at midnight, a terrible sirocco swept across the harbor. The sky had become very stormy. With the first gusts of the squall, the davit chain broke. The sea became increasingly rough. I actively turned on the lights in the engine room and requested a pilot to try to leave the harbor. Our steamer, moving on its davit anchor, crashes into a ship of the Gle Transatlantique Company and causes serious damage; I am forced to call for help from a warship anchored in front of us. The night is terrible. The next day, at daybreak, the wind eases. But our ship has hit the ground, the rudder and the propeller are damaged. We have to put it in the dry dock.

 

The owners of the "Guillaume Tell" were Spanish; the Captain, the Boatswain, the cabin boy, and I were the only French. I was thus obliged to learn Castilian, which I had also studied for the exam, as an optional subject.

 

Taking advantage of the major repairs the ship had to undergo, I asked for leave to come to my family. I thought I would find a command on one of the schooners doing the coastal trade between the islands.

 

Arriving in Martinique in February 1896, I was forced to leave again as second mate on the three-masted "Ville de Cayenne". This crossing from St Pierre to Marseille was very long, the calm assailed us near the Azores and kept us stranded for 40 days. In Marseille I had to hope for a long time before finding a boarding, as a last resort, I managed to get hired on the Ste Marthe bound for Mozambique. Almost at the same time I was called to join the Transatlantic Company which had just created a line of liners between New York and the Antilles.

 

Sinking of the City of Saint-Nazaire

 

I made 3 trips on the "Ville de Brest" and in February 1897 I embarked on the "Ville de St Nazaire".

CITY OF SAINT-NAZAIRE

On March 3rd we left New York with various cargo for the West Indies. The sea was very rough and the wind was blowing from the NW with a nice breeze. The next day the wind had freshened. Around 5 o'clock in the evening, a dull wave came in amidships and several tons of water gushed into the engine room, putting out the fires.

 

Access to the boiler rooms soon became impossible; the ship was rolling and the floorboards were flying everywhere, carried along by the water. At eight o'clock they tried to put to sea, but the steamer was no longer steering.

 

The whole night was spent at work, the water still flooding in. A hand pump drew water from the boiler room through a windsock, a chain of men with buckets emptied the engine hold. All the steam pumps were running, and yet the water was still rising. By four o'clock in the morning, the pressure had completely dropped, only the hand pump was operating. By seven o'clock, all hope of saving the ship was lost; it had to be abandoned.

 

The captain assembled the main crew and it was decided to abandon the ship and to find means of rescue. Eighty-five people, seventy-four crew members and eleven passengers. In the blink of an eye, everyone was at their post. The wind was still blowing like a storm, day was beginning to break and the ship was no longer moving but was sinking visibly. The women and children [there were four of them] had to embark in the first launch commanded by Mr Berry, a retired frigate captain on an inspection tour for the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. The embarkation was extremely difficult; the women had to be tied up, almost paralyzed by fear and the poor state of the sea. With a tackle, these living parcels were lowered into the boat. After an hour and a half of fighting, we managed to fit twenty-one people into the first lifeboat, which then set sail. The first lieutenant, who was kept on board by the maneuver, was later to take command of this boat. When it was time to bring the second lifeboat, where I was to embark, it rolled along the side, losing all the supplies and the navigation instruments I had equipped myself with. The captain then ordered me to bring the whaleboat and use it to go back and forth between the town of St Nazaire and the boat already at sea.

 

While we were trying to put the other boats in the water, I was carrying from the side, in Mr. Berry's boat, the unfortunate people who managed to get on board with me. The sea was rough and the maneuver I was carrying out was very delicate. Around one o'clock in the evening, everyone was housed in two boats, a whaleboat and a skiff (32 men with Mr. Berry, 37 with Mr. Nivolai, second in command of the City of St. Nazaire, 9 in the whaleboat and seven in the skiff). The noon point that day put us 60 miles from Cape Hatteras. By the time the Chief Engineer, the Second Officer and the Captain left the side, the water was covering the engine cylinders.

 

The lifeboats were fairly well supplied with provisions, the whaleboat had very little. Bad weather, worries, and also congestion had prevented me from taking on provisions; we had to sail together.

 

The four boats, in disarray, were sailing towards land. At sunset, the wind, which had diminished in the afternoon, began to blow in a gale accompanied by rain and thunderstorms. We were able to endure this first blow of weather in the whaleboat as best we could; but by daybreak, we could no longer see the other boats. The day passed fairly quietly. The wind, having diminished in violence, had shifted to the East and was pushing us towards land at a slow speed of about 2 knots, the foresail and mainsail were carrying well. We thought of taking some rest although frozen with cold under our constantly wet clothes. The temperature must have been several degrees below zero. My eight colleagues and I (the Captain, the Chief Engineer, the Purser, the 2nd Boatswain's Mate, the chambermaid, the carpenter, the 2nd cook and two boys) were still enjoying fairly good health. The bad weather returned with the night, the sea was more furious this time than the day before; it thundered, it was windy, it rained all at the same time, the heavy seas were demolishing our boat. The Captain at the helm, two men were emptying the whaleboat with shoes and a mess tin; the others at the oars to ward off the waves that threatened to sink us.

 

Sitting on the same bench, we couldn't hear each other, we had to repeat the Captain's commands aloud so that they could be heard by everyone. These commands followed one another without interruption: Starboard bow... Saw port... or vice versa; or saw around... or Forward around... We were sinking, we had to throw into the sea everything that wasn't absolutely essential, shoes, greatcoats, etc. etc... everything went. This second night and the following day were similar in every way. The sun hadn't shown itself all day and a deadly cold made us shiver all over.

 

At one point, after thirty hours of struggle, our strength failed us; we let the boat drift with the winds. We were content only to empty the water that had been taken on board. During the night of the third day, the wind diminished, and the fog immediately took its place. When it dissipated, on the morning of the fourth day, land appeared to us, or rather we had the illusion of it.

 

A ship was tacking quite close to us. Hope quickly returned; we thought we saw forests, points, bays. We rowed hard, but the fog reappeared again, and everything disappeared from our sight. With the night, the bad weather returned; it was still terrible. The lulls brought us hailstorms, each pellet of which bruised our flesh. The fires of a steamer heading east were visible to us for a long time, but our requests for help could not reach it.

 

This second encounter, the fatigue and the tortures of hunger and thirst that we had been suffering since leaving the city of St Nazaire, began to produce disastrous effects on the morale of my colleagues. A cabin boy had been wandering the day before, unable to hold on any longer, he had drunk salt water in abundance, he wanted to throw himself into the sea. After a few hours of agony, he gave up his soul to God. This death was closely followed by that of his colleague who died without uttering a complaint. At dusk we threw these two corpses into the sea, after stripping them of their clothes. Our whaleboat was slowly heading west. We had the pain of seeing our two companions floating for a long time in our wake. From that moment on, the Commissioner began to wander. He wanted to get off the boat and constantly saw a cab passing by that was to take him away. We had to keep an eye on him, his delirium was getting worse and worse. A steamer had been seen during the day and another had passed a short distance away around eight o'clock in the evening. During this fifth night, it rained heavily; we were able to quench our thirst by collecting brackish water on our sail made into a tent, and by sucking on our belongings soaked in salt water and rainwater. This kind of medicine made our thirst even worse. Our throats were on fire and we had a fever. In the evening the chambermaid died, her agony was terrible. Since she had been with us, she had remained seated at the bottom of the boat, we had given her all the care in our power, but constantly wet with sea spray, in her complete immobility, she had suffered martyrdom. Her complaints, at the moment of dying, tore at our hearts. She stretched her arms towards us, her mouth open, her voice hoarse; Each spray stopped her moans and ended her agony. With her head resting on me, this unfortunate woman died. Hardly had she given up the ghost than we disembarked her overboard. It was dark, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed across the sky!!!!

 

This tragic end dealt a severe blow to the Commissioner. He spent the fifth day in terrible convulsions of dementia. Around 6 p.m., escaping from our surveillance, he threw himself into the sea, believing he was going to land. He was rescued, but later he repeated the same maneuver. This time, our boat was making good time, and the darkness of the night prevented us from saving him. Until then, we had lost four men; the other five were still fighting.

 

The wind was blowing from the east with a light breeze, and we still expected to see land. The lights of a ship bound for Europe appeared before us, but our faint cries did not reach it.

 

The Chief Engineer, a man usually very gentle and also of Herculean strength, flew into a great rage in the middle of the night; he wanted a drink and offered fifty francs for a glass of water. Seeing that his request was not answered, he took a step from the boat and began to knock out the Captain and me who were within reach of his hand. This crisis, fortunately, was of very short duration. It turned into a comatose state and our poor colleague had returned to his bench, his face turned aft, insensible to the waves and to everything that was happening around him.

 

The Captain, too, seeing his helplessness in the face of so much misfortune, and reflecting on our approaching end, was overcome with discouragement. His sobs reached me and, one by one, he repeated the names of his wife and his five little girls whom he was never to see again. The brave sailor! He wanted to hide his emotions from me, but they were too strong to be concealed.

 

We were now without our foremast, the only one left to us by the storm.

During these supreme moments, I saw my entire past in quick flashes: our village, our parents, my beginnings in navigation, my stay in Toulon and the rare happy days I had had in the profession.

 

When the sun rose the next day, Saturday, all hope was lost; the carpenter had just thrown himself into the sea in a fit of madness, the second mate was lying in the boat's cabin, breathless. The Captain and I, sitting opposite each other, did not say a word to each other; we only mentally counted the hours we had left to live. The sun had long since passed the meridian and was shining with a pale glow; it was the omen of another gust of wind. At a certain moment, I felt the second mate stir at my feet, with a movement of impatience, I pushed him away, saying to him: Go and die somewhere else, leave us alone! Why complain, you only leave before us!

 

The poor dying man, raising himself on his elbows, involuntarily raised his eyes to the horizon in front of him and in an almost extinguished voice, he let out these words: "There's a boat"... and he fell back.

 

A steamer was in sight and was running towards us. That was all it took to get us back on our feet. We have a good chance of being seen, the Captain told us, the ship is heading towards us, let's signal to it. I immediately hauled myself onto the forecastle of the boat where I had left an oar with two handkerchiefs on its end, which we had already used to signal for distress. Gathering the little strength I had left, while waving my signal, I joined my voice with that of the Captain and the second mate who was now holding the oar; we were all asking for help. The engineer remained indifferent to this whole scene. It was beginning to get dark when we were certain that the steamer had seen us. They spoke to us in English, we answered in French and we still understood each other. With relative ease I was able to moor the "line" that was thrown to us to the boat. The steamer had no doctor, but we received very intelligent care from the officers. We asked for a drink above all else, but were given only a glass of water, followed by a little whiskey; we were hastily undressed and put to bed in well-heated rooms. Several times that night we were awakened to take something to comfort us.

 

Our rescue was quite providential, none of us would have survived midnight; we would have died in the atrocious suffering of thirst.

The steamer was called the "MAROA" and was going to HAMBURG. The Administration of the Gle Transatlantique Company in Paris was informed of our presence on board, as we passed within sight of Cape Lisard, and on the morning of April 1st, we sailed up the Ebro and two days later, we were in Paris.

Already, the day after our rescue, we were walking briskly on the deck of the MAROA.

 

The Chief Engineer came to as soon as he received the first aid. He had never wanted to leave the bench on which he was in the boat. With his hands and feet he had clung so tightly to the whaleboat that they had to give up trying to get him out; so they hoisted him up with the boat without paying any attention to him. When he was safe, a very strong sailor, using all his strength, forced him to let go. He told us afterwards that in his imagination, he saw himself in Marseilles in a boat, alongside a steamer where his colleagues had been invited to board, and he had not; for this he protested. Having lost the power of speech, he used this resistance to express his refusal because his friends in the boat wanted to force him to board the steamer.

 

We all had these kinds of illusions. Sometimes, it was human forms that one of us saw, pointed them out to the others, and we all had the certainty of what we were saying. And so many other things besides!!!!

In the other boats, our colleagues had suffered no less than we.

 

Along with Mr. NICOLAI, the Boatswain was the first to be struck by madness. He repeatedly tried to break open the boat with an axe. This madness gradually affected the rest of his companions, and not a day went by, from the third onward, without four or five unfortunates, overcome by madness, throwing themselves into the sea. Twenty-four men perished in this way. An English steamer had rescued these unfortunates on Friday evening. They disembarked in London and reached Le Havre.

 

The lifeboat commanded by Mr. Berry suffered the same fate, encountered on Sunday morning with four men on board out of thirty-seven who had left the city of St Nazaire, by an American sailing ship, these survivors were sent to New York. Madness led these unfortunates to scenes of unheard-of lewdness that can hardly be described. ……………… (several lines of shorthand). And this scene was often repeated among these unfortunates whom death reaped little by little.

 

The dinghy in which the first lieutenant and five men were travelling disappeared body and soul.

This drowning from which I had just escaped earned me the opportunity to visit Paris, where Coridon and his sister were; they showered me with kindness.

The Gle Transatlantique Company sent me shortly after to the Antilles as a lieutenant on its tenders. On May 24, I left Le Havre and on the following 9th I was in Martinique. Throughout 1897 I sailed between Fort-de-France and Port-au-Prince, stopping at intermediate ports.

May 1898 was to be the end of my statutory year on the Annexes. It was more advantageous for me to continue my services on the long-haul routes, in order to return later, to settle in Martinique, with a command in the intercolonial line.

 

 

Marriage

 

 

Until then, I had not yet thought about marriage; it was becoming a necessity for me.

 

As a sailor, and even at the beginning of my navigation as an officer, I had been very happy to be alone, because in the first case a companion would have prevented me from saving and, consequently, from realizing my views, and in the second, I had debts to pay and other obligations to face. During my stay in Martinique, my mother and my sister had taken care of everything that interested me; they were going to fail me and only a legitimate wife could replace them.

 

I was not picky in my choice of a wife, and a chance chance brought about by my aunt E…, to whom I had confided my project, betrothed me to a young girl of twenty. My new, very respectable family was poor; I was not looking for a fortune, my salary being nearly four hundred francs a month and the future smiled on me.

 

The wedding took place in April and we left on May 12 for Nantes where we were to settle. I had chosen this city to establish my wife, because it was inhabited by one of my aunts, the only relative I had in France.

 

After a month's leave, the Company designated me to go to Le Havre to continue serving on its ships.

 

When I arrived at Le Havre, the entire town was reeling from the loss of the BOURGOGNE, the company's liner, which was traveling between Le Havre and New York. Five hundred people, passengers and crew, had died in a collision in foggy weather.

 

On July 16, the Ville de Marseille, on which I was embarked, set sail for Haiti. After touching at St. Thomas and operating on the Dominican and Puerto Rican coasts, we went to Santiago de Cuba to pick up a contingent of troops and passengers returning to Spain.

VILLE DE MARSEILLE (1875-1902)

The Spanish-American War had just ended and the Star-Spangled Banner had replaced the Peninsular Flag in the islands of Cuba and Puerto Rico.

On September 12, 1898, we were back in Le Havre. A note from the Ministry of the Navy, ordering all survivors from the city of St Nazaire to go to Lorient, brought us together in this port. Only Mr. NICOLAI was missing from this call. During a crossing from Mauseille to Colon, he had succumbed to an illness that had been plaguing him since the shipwreck, and his remains lay in the middle of the ocean. The Council took three days to deliberate. The Chief Engineer was fined twelve francs for having, too late, warned the Captain of the damage he had noticed in the boiler rooms. The Engineer appealed his sentence, and the Brest Court overturned this judgment three months later.

On my way from Le Havre to Lorient, I was able to stop in Nantes with my family.

It was in Lorient that the first symptoms of this illness appeared, which keeps me away from the sea to this day. I first had a sore throat, and while passing through Nantes, I had to take to my bed. I nevertheless had to reach Le Havre, from where I was due to embark shortly, but I was unable to set off on my voyage. Back at the hospital, the doctors treated me for a completely different illness than the one I was suffering from. The pain was located in my lower back and ran down my left leg; a convulsive tremor shook my leg.

Too neglected in this health center, the Doctor of the Company authorized me to leave it to continue to be treated at the clinic of Doctor Sorel. Sixty-three days of treatment during which electricity played the greatest role did not bring me any return to health. From there, I came to the Hôtel-Dieu of Nantes to continue the care I had received in Le Havre. Several doctors visited me and concluded that the shipwreck of the Ville de St Nazaire was the dominant cause of my illness. Nevertheless, I had great difficulty in obtaining satisfaction from the Company, although my claims were limited to a job in its offices, in Fort-de-France. Thanks to the intervention of Mr. ISAAC, senator of Guadeloupe, the central Administration, after having brought me to Paris to assess the state of my health, designated me a modest job at the Economat of Fort-de-France.

Here, I think my navigation ends.

In the new life that begins for me, I will relate from year to year the most salient facts of my existence as a bureaucrat.

The mail from St Nazaire dropped my wife and me off at Fort-de-France. I took a month's leave and in June I started work. In 1899, I settled in the countryside where I received the hospitality of my aunt E…. To get to my work every day, I had a small, low carriage made that pulled a horse with difficulty.

In November, I bought a plot of land near my aunt's house: A house in poor condition, a hut, ten coffee trees and some mango trees for the price of sixteen hundred francs payable in cash, one thousand francs and the rest in eighteen months. Thanks to Abbot St AUDE, I was able to make the first payment in cash, in which my investment barely amounts to four hundred francs. I began repairs to the house in November. Although they are not very important, they extend until the end of the following May.

I am not neglecting my health for this reason. Tired of the doctors' fruitless treatment, I am undergoing treatment for two sleepwalkers, but nothing has yet manifested itself.

Fort-de-France on July 24, 1900.

Mr. HSUFFRIN..

 

 

1901

 

 

More than a year has already passed since I began to write these few lines, all of memory.

My little Raoul is now one year old, and if God grants him life, in some fifteen years, he will be able to get to know these lines written at lunchtime to relieve my fatigue from the stupefying job of bureaucrat.

 

Until recently, I still hoped to resume sailing; but I now understand that everything is over for me on that side. After three years of care, I am still begging for a little health from science and chance. A season that I spent this year at the E. Th. Du Précheur, did not bring me anything for my pains.

 

Seeing the harbor of St Pierre, my memories went back to my childhood. Certainly, the harbor is not today as it was twenty years ago, lined with beautiful sailing ships alongside which coasters unloaded sugar and tafia. I was lucky enough to see a sailing ship set sail. Times have changed; the crew of the three-master tacked with difficulty at the capstan and the captain walked impatiently on the poop deck. At the beginning of my navigation, when a ship had to leave the port, the sailors of the other boats helped their colleagues to walk to the departure buoy; the funniest and most cheerful songs animated everyone. The Captain received his colleagues and we did not separate until sunset when all the sails were set. We shook hands, said goodbye in such and such a port.

 

My main objective now is to leave the Company. I cannot continue this life of absolute deprivation that I have been leading for more than two years for much longer without completely damaging my remaining health, and without any result, because what will I be able to do with 150 francs a month when I have one or two children to raise, and yet, whether I am 40 or 50 years old, 10 or 20 years in the Company, I will not be any further ahead. In this administration everyone is a Freemason, and woe betide those who are not. It is in the land that I want to find well-being and what is necessary to raise my family. I have strived all this year to put my small plot of land to good use. The few vanilla trees that I have there are good ones. When my small property has acquired a certain value, I will sell it to expand elsewhere.

Fort-de-France on December 1, 1901.

 

 

1902, Mount Pelée

 

 

Today I open this little book that I dedicate, not to my son, but to my children since I have two at this date. My little Anthoine is now three months old, his health could not be better. May Heaven preserve these heirs for me without increasing their number.

Since December 1901, many events have come to disturb the peaceful existence of us Martinicans: I am referring to the terrible catastrophe of May 8 and the damage caused by the volcano on Mount Pelée.

 

Martinique, of volcanic construction, is crossed along its entire length by a mountain ridge whose main peak, Mount Pelée, has an elevation of 1350 meters. This volcanic origin makes the island very exposed to earthquakes. The most disastrous was that of January 11, 1839, which destroyed almost the entire city of Fort-de-France. In 1851, the disturbance was noted by the production of two craters on Mount Pelée from which escaped fairly large quantities of mud and ash.

 

ERUPTION of MOUNT PELEE:

 

For several days, it had been rumored in St Pierre and the surrounding area that the volcano on Mount Pelée, which was believed to be extinct, appeared to be active. But on Friday, April 25, there was no longer any doubt that an eruption was occurring.

 

MAY 2: Mount Pelée, which had resumed its normal appearance, is now throwing up thicker smoke than ever; the mountain looks like an immense charcoal kiln. The inhabitants of Le Précheur and the surrounding area are in dismay. A rain of ash has fallen on the heights of this commune. In St Pierre, many people are beginning to be moved.

MAY 3: This morning, Fort-de-France woke up to a thick layer of grayish ash in the streets, somewhat similar to cement, which the northern breeze had brought us from Mount Pelée. The volcano, which had been sleeping so deeply, is making dull rumbling noises. The town of St Pierre and the surrounding area are covered in a thick layer of ash, and it has been noted that the summit of the mountain is crisscrossed with lightning. The crater is belching out flames. The road to Le Précheur is interrupted by thick smoke and a strong smell of sulfur; in this town, there are marked tremors and underground rumblings. The population is very upset.

MAY 4: The volcanic eruption of Mount Pelée continues. The breeze carries the ash rain westward, forming a black, opaque cloud, extending to the horizon. From 6:30 to 9:00 p.m. this ash rain fell on St Pierre and the surrounding area and a dull noise was heard all night. A new crater opened to the north of the existing ones. At St Pierre, 2mm of ash fell, at Fonds Coié 12, and at Précheur a very large quantity. The Blanche River, whose course had considerably increased, is completely dried up.

MAY 5: Period of calm. Ash continues to fall at Précheur and other places downwind of the crater. Rural areas abandoned by the population. Complete shortage of food and water. Animals are dying of hunger and thirst. Tree branches are breaking under the weight of the ash. Last night, the eruption was intense with considerable deployment of atmospheric electricity, lightning, thunder, and tongues of fire. The inhabitants of Fonds Coié are deserting the area. Ash is falling in abundance on Macouba. The Rivière Blanche is overflowing in an extraordinary way, threatening the Guérin Factory.

 

Midi- White River, which has become a raging torrent, rolls muddy lava. Dry River, which was dry, rolls blackish water.

1:22 a.m.: The sea recedes 25 to 30 meters, returning to the shore, several meters above normal levels. Numerous fumaroles and crevasses form in the Rivière Blanches. The situation is very serious, and there is terrible panic.

 

1:35 a.m.: A lava flow escaping from the dry pond with enormous smoke descends to the sea in less than 3 minutes through the Rivière Blanche valley, it engulfs the Guérin Factory which buries under its ruins all the factory personnel; the victims are numerous. The lava, arriving at the sea, produced a very accentuated retreat action, waves which then returned to the shore producing an enormous wave which engulfed the 2 lifeboats of the factory.

 

3:20 a.m.: The volcano is smoking very strongly, the earth is shaking slightly. The tidal wave is terrible; it lasted no more than a quarter of an hour. The buildings in the harbor were not damaged; the surge of the sea simply brought them closer to the shore.

 

8 a.m.: The road to the Rivière Blanche district no longer exists. The Ismard distillery, Morne St. Martin, the Rivière Blanche factory, and the Purnon distillery stores have completely disappeared. Over a distance of more than 600 meters, everything has been covered by about 10 meters of muddy lava. A huge trench has been opened by the passage of the lava.

 

MAY 6: A very strong eruption continues. Mount Pelée is discovered. Incandescent blocks of lava roll down. In the opinion of a learned professor, Mount Pelée poses no more danger to St. Peter than Vesuvius poses to Naples. All schools are closed.

 

MAY 7: The news from the volcano is very discouraging. Crowds of people from the region are leaving their town. The mountain Pelée rumbles loudly.

Saint Peter's Day, May 5, 1902

MAY 8: On Thursday, May 8, Fort-de-France woke up as usual. A vague concern had been hovering over the city since the Guérin plant had been buried under lava, but people said that, after all, the distance from the volcano, located 28 km as the crow flies, was sufficient guarantee.

 

On this day, the solemnity of the Assumption was to be celebrated. While the whole of Martinique was putting on its Sunday best, Mount Pelée brought death in the form of a cloud charged with electricity and sulfurous gas to thousands of beings full of life and activity, not one of whom escaped the terrible scourge, annihilating in one fell swoop the work city, the commercial center of the colony.

 

In Fort-de-France, around 6 o'clock in the morning, a pure atmosphere and a slightly dappled sky promised a relatively beautiful day. Everyone was up early and busy preparing for the Assumption. Suddenly, around 8 o'clock, the sky turned inky black, then a hail of small stones fell on the houses, producing a crackling sound on the sheet metal and tiles that was at first inexplicable. At the same time, a relentless cloud of ash enveloped the town and surrounding areas, covering everything with a gray veil. A fine rain soon transformed it into muddy flakes, while the formidable rumblings of the volcano increased the confusion and fear in people's souls. Throughout the morning, a fantastic procession of an entire panicked population took place under the blinding ash.

 

Around noon, news of St. Peter's disappearance began to circulate. The door of St. Peter's, after a cry of final agony from the attendant, who was then at the horn, was silent.

Saint-Pierre after the eruption

In the morning, a steamer that...daily...travels between the two cities had been able to approach St. Pierre. From the ship, the...was seen in flames. The boat had returned to Fort-de-France. It was an hour of unspeakable pain. All those who had remained or who had returned to the city went to the shore, questioning each other, with a heavy heart, with the idea of obtaining information about their sister city.

 

………. long hours, while the troops posted near the quays and along the seaside shops where the seals had just been affixed, stood guard to warn of who knew what danger, this sorrowful crowd, whose anguish was increased tenfold by the mystery and the unknown, wondered what could be so terrible in what was happening that they were hiding.

 

But the population remained without news of St. Peter. They expected some unknown event that the imagination made even more terrible.

 

When the SUCHET (warship) arrived around 10 o'clock in the evening with about thirty victims, the crowd, despite the pickets of soldiers, gathered on the Esplanade, in the alleys and in the neighboring streets with the hope of recognizing in the gloomy procession of artillery vans loaded with dead or wounded some beloved being whom they could assist and support in this supreme moment.

 

Long after the last cart had carried its funeral load to the Hospital, this crowd still stood opposite the quays, their souls torn between the most diverse feelings, their hearts filled with an indefinable sadness. They wondered if they were not the playthings of some sinister nightmare. It was in such a mood that everyone went to bed. How painful the awakening must have been.

 

ABOUT THE VOLCANO:

 

The eruption of Mount Pelée is the most surprising and the most terrible that history has recorded to date. It is a cataclysm that the imagination can barely conceive and that the essentially curious human being examines with all the respect inspired by what is still for him in a state of mystery. This catastrophe is only ranked 8th or 9th in the statistics of volcanic eruptions, but this is hardly a consolation:

 

In the year

 

79 POMPEI & HERCULANEUM 50,000 Dead.

1667 ACHEMACHA in the CAUCASUS 80,000 ''

1693 SICILY, 54 towns 300 villages 100,000 Dead.

1703 JEVA in JAPAN, complete destruction. 210,000 ''

1731 HSINEN-HOA, north of BEIJING. 120,000''

1735 LISBON 50,000 ''

1797 the PERUVIAN ANDES COLUMBUS. 40,000 ''

1895 KAMAICHA (JAPAN) 51,000 ''

1902 St. PIERRE (MARTINIQUE) 40,000 ''

 

Among the warning signs of an eruption is a decrease in the flow of springs. This is a common phenomenon at Vesuvius. Here, the opposite is true: rivers suddenly and abnormally overflow, carrying blocks of rock.

 

Of all the suppositions that have been made, the only one that seems plausible to me is that the asphyxiating and flammable gas compressed in large quantities in a restricted space and acquiring a considerable tension that can be estimated at several hundred atmospheres caused an explosion breaking the earth's crust and fell like a whirlwind on the unfortunate city.

 

Another case that further supports my hypothesis is that of the sailor who, suddenly and involuntarily submerged at the time of the catastrophe, was able to breathe atmospheric gas after his immersion and save himself, while others were asphyxiated near him. Therefore, it is almost certain that the unfortunate victims of the catastrophe did not have time to suffer.

 

Should we still see in this phenomenon one of the many………………. of electricity?

 

Finally, there is the hypothesis of the attraction that the Moon exerts on the Earth's core, if this core is liquid. Now the catastrophe occurred at the new moon at 7:45 in the morning. Is this coincidence fortuitous or does the moon have an important role in this circumstance?

 

We can only guess.

 

From May 8 to 21: The news of St. Pierre's disappearance, barely known, arouses a movement of universal condolences. At the same time as sympathy is shown to us, aid in food and money reaches us. Among all nations, the United States alone sends us 2,500,000 francs, abundant provisions and geologists. It is easy to see that the movement of the American people is not only inspired by pity and that the MONROE doctrine is its principal motive.

 

In the carnage of May 8, I lost my older brother, Flavien, his wife Mathilde Ste Marie, and their sweet fourteen-year-old child, André. Like most of the inhabitants of St Pierre, my brother had not wanted to leave the town, and the very day before the disaster, he thanked me in a letter for the offer I made him to come to my house to shelter from the volcano. Flavien was a charming young man, a good parent, and above all, a good friend. In the family, he was thought to be personal, but he was not. In his very precarious situation as a clerk at the central prison, he had to be very economical; this was what was taken for selfishness. His wife, a teacher, had great qualities as a wife and as a parent. André, a 4th-grade student at the Lycée, showed great promise for the future.

 

NEW ERUPTION MAY 21: PANIC.

 

On Tuesday 21st, the inhabitants of Fort-de-France woke up to the cry: Fire is in the sky!

 

It was an unspeakable panic, a general sauve qui peut of the entire population barely roused from sleep, fleeing frantically in all directions to escape the threat of death hanging over everyone's heads.

 

This movement ended with the flight of a large number of the city's inhabitants, some going to St. Lucia, others to Guadeloupe or the neighboring islands.

 

In the meantime, our brother, the eldest of the Gaston family, Pierre HEBERT-SUFFRIN, in the civil registry, fell ill and on August 7 we had the pain of taking him to the family vault at St ESPRIT.

 

Our brother died at the age of 41 after a long agony that lasted eight days.

 

Because of a small epidemic that was raging at the Pt. BOURG factory where our brother was foreman, he worked in the sun during the day and did the shift every night. The day after the St. Pierre disaster, he was resting in his room when his maid came to tell him hurriedly that St. Pierre had been destroyed, your brother and his family were burned and your mother was dying at Pt. BOURG. GASTON rushed like a bomb to his mother, whom he found very well and had not even learned of the disaster in the big city. Emotion, pain or the fresh air had a disastrous effect on our eldest and from that day on he became taciturn and even refused to eat and drink. Finally, on July 31, he was going to the doctor when he fell from his horse. Taken to his aunt, Mrs. MONTET, he was still fully conscious, but soon after he lost his speech. This comatose state lasted until his death.

 

Gaston was very hardworking but he lacked a sense of order. He spent all his money without any interest on a small property which his second brother Antoine managed and also had the usufruct of.

 

At the same time as our mother mourns the death of ... two first-born children, at the invitation of Antoine, married in TAHITI, I am preparing to go and live on this island with my little family. It is with great regret and also with many difficulties in perspective that I think of this journey which will take me away from Martinique forever. It is certainly not the fear of the volcano of Mount Pelée which will make me leave, but I must think of these two little beings for whom I have to work in order to make them men and our poor country is doomed to the worst misery.

Fort-de-France, August 26, 1908.[sic]

 

 

1904

 

 

AUGUST 31: Mount Pelée, on the evening of August 30, has just manifested its destructive power. After St Pierre, Morne-Rouge and Ajoupa-Bouillon have disappeared; this time the massacre was limited: 1,500 human beings sleep for eternity. What mourning for Martinique and above all what a disaster!

 

From 8:30 a.m. the immense black curtain unfurled its swirls accompanied by frequent eruptions. Around 9 a.m., under the thrust of some unknown underwater force, a formidable wave swept across Rue Victor-Hugo. It was a general sauve qui peut, the galloping along the paths.

 

For two months since the monster had not shown any activity, we were getting back to living and getting familiar with its disturbing neighborhood.

 

The heavy gases, leaving the ordinary sector, the area between Le Précheur and the leveled plain where St Pierre was, headed further north, reducing Morne-Rouge and most of Ajoupa-Bouillon to ashes. Fortunately, these communes were sparsely inhabited.

 

OCTOBER 20, 1904: From August 1902 to this time, no notable change has occurred in my lifestyle. The most notable event of this period is the arrival of little Gaston, born on February 7, 1904. This newcomer almost died at the age of three months and since that time has been deprived of his mother's breast; nevertheless, he is in good health at this time.

 

Raoul goes to school, to the Lycée and Antoine, very kind, is ready to take this path next year.

 

No change in my situation. I've been up in arms again this year about the trip to TAHITI. The Minister initially refused me the free passage I requested, and Antoine is now advising me against the trip. I tried in vain to join the port service, but nothing worked. No advancement within the Company.

 

I go twice a week to teach maneuvers free of charge pro Deo at a hydrography course set up to train coastal navigation masters.

 

The courage still lasts, but that's all.

 

Fort-de-France on October 20, 1904.

 

 

1906

 

 

SEPTEMBER 3, 1906: After two years of silence, I resume my little chat. This time with a heavy heart, for I have just taken to his final resting place our dear little Gaston, whose arrival I only mentioned in October 1904. The dear child died in my arms on August 28. During the night of August 15-16, Gaston had a severe convulsion; very energetic care brought him back, but nevertheless his health had deteriorated and our care was useless. Our dear departed was very kind, he was the joy of the family and kept his mother company while the older ones were at school. We buried him without ceremony in the poor people's cemetery, in the ground, where a wooden cross bearing the following inscription marks the spot: "Gaston HEBER-SUFFRIN, our late little angel of two and a half."

 

For the past two years, we have been mourning two unknown relatives, joined by that of our brother URBAIN, who died in Cayenne in October 1904. I am referring to the death of little Marcel, son of Antoine, and that of his wife Julie.

 

Our elder brother Antoine, who had served under Coridon in Madagascar, followed him to Tahiti in 1900 and there married a Tahitian woman (Julie …..) who gave him two children: Marcel, who was abducted at the age of two and a half, and Elodie, who survived her mother, who died a year after her firstborn.

 

Urbain, the last of my brothers, had been in Cayenne for over 7 years. We rarely heard from him and one day we learned that he had died at the Maroni hospital. Urbain was a brave soul, he had become a mechanic and as such worked in the placer mines of Guyana.

 

At this time, only young Maurice, son of our uncle Justin, Raoul and Anthoine, remain to perpetuate the family name. There will also be little girls Jeanne and Marie, Maurice's sisters, who live in Paris, and little Elodie from Tahiti, who will bear the name HEBERE rather than SUFFRIN.

 

Raoul will be six years old in a month. He spent this last school year in a local school in La Redoute. He hasn't made much progress there because I see, with regret, that this child doesn't like studying.

 

Anthoine was also there all last year, without being able to learn to read.

 

I am still deprived of health.

 

In July 1904, I began the construction of a small three-masted square-rigged ship that I intended for my children. I had initially named it "Les Trois Frère" but since the disappearance of little Gaston, I changed the name of the ship to "Le Petit Gaston". The ship now has its yards in place; all that is missing are the sails.

 

Fort-de-France, September 3, 1906.

 

 

Origins

 

 

ORIGIN OF MY FAMILY.

I don't know around what time, around 1603 we believe, a white Creole came from a neighboring colony, from Saint Lucia or Dominica, then French colonies, with a young Caribbean woman as a mistress. They settled in MAR…. on the property called MARNE COM…

Through easy and honest speculations they quickly became rich. This gentleman outlived his partner who left him a daughter.