Post by Raoul Christophe de Chagny on Mar 15, 2012 16:45:38 GMT -5
May 1st, 1876
Today I embarked on a magnificent journey. I do not know where I am going, though the word around the ship is that we are headed for North Africa. Wherever it is we are going, I daresay I am quite excited. I have not left the country before, so this certainly will be a learning experience. I am now officially a seaman in the glorious Marine Nationale. Today I received my uniform—a white and blue striped shirt, blue cap, a blue over shirt, a blue overcoat for dress occasions, and blue trousers. It is quite different than what I am used to wearing, but I don’t really mind at all. I am just glad to be out on the open sea.
Some of the other recruits and I had the duty of swabbing the deck today. I had no qualms with this sort of work, even though it is something that most vicomtes would not prefer to do. My brother, Philippe, had offered to secure for me a commission as he has some acquaintances in the Navy, but I dissuaded him from doing any such thing. I wanted to be a common sailor, at least for these five years, to see what it is like. The first mate yells, and curses occasionally, but c’est la vie. I find no fault with having to do hard work, especially when I have the privilege of being at sea almost every day for the next five years. I love the ocean. I have not felt more at home anywhere else. I wanted to get away from Perros-Guirec, even though it is right on the ocean, and experience life through the eyes of a common sailor. Philippe finds this to be a foolish idea, but I pay him no mind. Even though it is my first day, I am enjoying it. The food—hardtack and cheese—is not superb, but so far I have made friends to share the burden with. There is one man, Pierre, a couple of years older than me, from a farm in Normandy. He played the fife right after dinner to entertain us. He is very good—his dream is to play in an opera house in Paris someday, but until then he has resolved to live a life at sea and earn decent wages to send back to his mother and family at the farm.
There is another sailor by the name of Jacques who has quite the love of alcohol. He downed an entire bottle of rum tonight after supper, and even now he is singing some old drinking song as I write this entry. I only had one glass with my supper—my first of rum, though recently Philippe introduced me to champagne, which is all right, I suppose—and I hated it. I hate the smell, the taste…it’s just dreadful. When he’s sober, Jacques is quite the storyteller. He’s an old seed, and has been at sea for some ten years. He entertained us with his tale of an encounter with a mermaid. He insists it’s true, and some of his companions have vouched for him on this matter but I don’t believe a word of it. However I laugh and listen along with everyone else.
I can’t really say that I feel homesick. I suppose it will take some getting used to, not having servants and having to clean up after oneself, but I don’t mind this. It’s almost a relief to get away from Philippe for a while—though I love him dearly, his boisterous personality can be a bit grating at times. The one person I really miss is Christine. I have not seen her since we said goodbye a few weeks ago, but every detail of her face is still ingrained in my mind. Will we meet again someday? I doubt it. Philippe told me to put her out of mind, as after all she is the daughter of an entertainer. I will do nothing of the sort. I will remember her, and all the times we shared together as children. She was my dearest friend.
But now, I have new friends, and new adventures awaiting me. I am so looking forward to seeing North Africa. The climate is supposed to be quite different from that of France, with sand—not like that of the beach, but that of a desert, which the area has plenty of, according to Jacques. Again, I am not sure if that is where were are going, but I will certainly be sure to explore it, and to describe each aspect tediously in this journal. For now, I must retire for a while, as the first mate will be here in minutes.
Until tomorrow,
Raoul Christophe de Chagny
Today I embarked on a magnificent journey. I do not know where I am going, though the word around the ship is that we are headed for North Africa. Wherever it is we are going, I daresay I am quite excited. I have not left the country before, so this certainly will be a learning experience. I am now officially a seaman in the glorious Marine Nationale. Today I received my uniform—a white and blue striped shirt, blue cap, a blue over shirt, a blue overcoat for dress occasions, and blue trousers. It is quite different than what I am used to wearing, but I don’t really mind at all. I am just glad to be out on the open sea.
Some of the other recruits and I had the duty of swabbing the deck today. I had no qualms with this sort of work, even though it is something that most vicomtes would not prefer to do. My brother, Philippe, had offered to secure for me a commission as he has some acquaintances in the Navy, but I dissuaded him from doing any such thing. I wanted to be a common sailor, at least for these five years, to see what it is like. The first mate yells, and curses occasionally, but c’est la vie. I find no fault with having to do hard work, especially when I have the privilege of being at sea almost every day for the next five years. I love the ocean. I have not felt more at home anywhere else. I wanted to get away from Perros-Guirec, even though it is right on the ocean, and experience life through the eyes of a common sailor. Philippe finds this to be a foolish idea, but I pay him no mind. Even though it is my first day, I am enjoying it. The food—hardtack and cheese—is not superb, but so far I have made friends to share the burden with. There is one man, Pierre, a couple of years older than me, from a farm in Normandy. He played the fife right after dinner to entertain us. He is very good—his dream is to play in an opera house in Paris someday, but until then he has resolved to live a life at sea and earn decent wages to send back to his mother and family at the farm.
There is another sailor by the name of Jacques who has quite the love of alcohol. He downed an entire bottle of rum tonight after supper, and even now he is singing some old drinking song as I write this entry. I only had one glass with my supper—my first of rum, though recently Philippe introduced me to champagne, which is all right, I suppose—and I hated it. I hate the smell, the taste…it’s just dreadful. When he’s sober, Jacques is quite the storyteller. He’s an old seed, and has been at sea for some ten years. He entertained us with his tale of an encounter with a mermaid. He insists it’s true, and some of his companions have vouched for him on this matter but I don’t believe a word of it. However I laugh and listen along with everyone else.
I can’t really say that I feel homesick. I suppose it will take some getting used to, not having servants and having to clean up after oneself, but I don’t mind this. It’s almost a relief to get away from Philippe for a while—though I love him dearly, his boisterous personality can be a bit grating at times. The one person I really miss is Christine. I have not seen her since we said goodbye a few weeks ago, but every detail of her face is still ingrained in my mind. Will we meet again someday? I doubt it. Philippe told me to put her out of mind, as after all she is the daughter of an entertainer. I will do nothing of the sort. I will remember her, and all the times we shared together as children. She was my dearest friend.
But now, I have new friends, and new adventures awaiting me. I am so looking forward to seeing North Africa. The climate is supposed to be quite different from that of France, with sand—not like that of the beach, but that of a desert, which the area has plenty of, according to Jacques. Again, I am not sure if that is where were are going, but I will certainly be sure to explore it, and to describe each aspect tediously in this journal. For now, I must retire for a while, as the first mate will be here in minutes.
Until tomorrow,
Raoul Christophe de Chagny
