Passage to Marseille Page #6

- You're French? The lot of you?

- Yes, sir.

What's your name?

Renault.

Perhaps these men will now tell us

who they are and where they come from.

Willingly, sir.

They are gold miners from Venezuela.

Three of us, though born in France,

are naturalized Venezuelans.

The other two were born in Venezuela

of French parentage.

I see. Where?

Well, we were working a placer claim

300 miles up a branch of the Orinoco.

Doubtless, you've never been there, sir.

It's deep in the jungle.

You reach it only by canoe.

We heard of the war only two months ago.

- It must be a wilderness, that place.

- Oh, yes, sir. It's terrible.

There's no radio, no settlement,

no civilization within 100 miles.

- How did the news reach you?

- Just by chance, Captain.

You see, there are Indian rubber gatherers

in that region.

Three of them, just coming in

from the coast, stopped at our camp.

Remember?

Well, so we bought a few supplies

from them,

among other things, an axe wrapped in

a Caracas newspaper many months old.

- What paper was that?

- The Caracas Diario.

I even remember the date. November 3.

The first news of the war we heard

told us of a raid

from the Maginot Line in Alsace.

Very odd.

- And you were interested?

- Naturally, sir.

We are Frenchmen, just like yourselves.

- We wanted to go home and... To fight.

- Likely.

- You. What's your name?

- Matrac.

Obviously, you are the leader.

Suppose you tell us?

- I'll speak for my friend.

- Speak when you're spoken to.

Sit down, sit down.

Well? Go on.

We have no leader. We're all equal.

We're a group of free men.

- You. You who wished to speak just now.

- Thank you, sir.

You were incredulous over our attempt

to return to France, and I don't wonder.

Because it was an adventure

that only the deepest feelings

of patriotism could inspire.

All we had, sir, was our little canoe,

together with 200 ounces of gold dust.

Our plan was to sail westward

to where we could catch a boat

for Panama and from there to France.

But we were upset by a huge swell,

and the iron box that contained the gold

and our passports were lost.

We righted the boat and went on,

nevertheless.

From then on, we were lost.

Helpless. No mast, sail gone,

and, mon Commandant,

on my word of honor,

all this happened

three weeks before you sighted us.

You're one

of the naturalized Venezuelans?

- Yes, sir.

- Where was your home there?

- Ciudad Bolvar.

- You at the back there.

So? You didn't catch him.

His accent is perfect.

And you have no papers of any sort?

No proof of identity?

No, sir.

As Marius so truthfully told,

they're all at the bottom of the Orinoco.

I see.

All at the bottom of the Orinoco River.

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