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EPILOGUE
HMS Northumberland
- October 15, 1815
The Emperor stood
on the deck of the heaving warship - a 74-gun third-rate ship
of the line - one hand holding a stay, surveying the horizon
for his new realm. He was as rigid as stone; the only movement
of his body was his eyes. Three months to the day had passed
since he stepped upon the deck of the HMS Bellerophon
off Rochefort and into the hands of his enemies.
The officer of the
deck, the ship's second lieutenant, was at his station upon the
quarterdeck by the wheel, trying to keep his mind on his business.
Yet the young Englishman could not prevent his eyes from returning
to the living statue. He knew that the gentleman was the ship's
honored "guest" and all have been ordered to refer
to him as "monsieur" or "General"
(rather than some of the less-flattering names British tars had
come up for the Destroyer of Mankind during the long years of
war), yet the lieutenant could not think of the man as anything
but The Emperor.
What must he
be thinking? The lieutenant
wondered. He was once Emperor of the French, near-conqueror
of Europe, the most dangerous man in the world. Now he is powerless;
a prisoner on his way to exile. And there'll be no escape from
this prison - Saint Helena is in the middle of the bloody South
Atlantic Ocean. And to make sure, the lords of the British
Admiralty had decreed that a squadron of warships should keep
station off the god-forsaken piece of rock until Monsieur Bonaparte
was no more.
"LAND HO!"
cried the lookout.
"WHERE AWAY?"
returned the lieutenant.
"TWO POINTS
OFF THE STARBORD BOW!"
Half a dozen telescopes
were clapped to a half dozen eyes, but it was useless - from
the deck the island was still below the horizon. As he lowered
his instrument the lieutenant noticed that the statue had come
to life - the Emperor stained to see, standing on tip toe. The
officer almost handed him the telescope but thought better of
it.
Turning to a midshipman,
he said, "Give the Captain my complements, and report land
two points off the starboard bow." The youngster repeated
the order and scurried below decks. Within minutes the captain
came up from below, placing his hat on his head and ignoring
the salute. He was followed by all the off-duty ship's officers.
By now, the Emperor was a statue again.
"Where away?"
the captain demanded. The lieutenant pointed out the reported
direction as others, mainly the Emperor's entourage, began to
fill the decks. Patiently, the captain peered though his telescope
until the island was revealed. By now a dark spot could be seen
on the horizon. Turning to the midshipman the captain said, "My
complements to the Admiral, and report that we have raised Saint
Helena." The lad saluted and left.
In the minutes that
followed, as the Northumberland sailed on, Saint Helena
was shown to be the ugliest and most dismal rock conceivable;
rising like an enormous black wart from the bowels of the deep.
The Emperor and the two officers watched in silence, as they
grew closer to the ends of the earth…
The End
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