Chapter 1

**The Ship Returns Home**

On **May 24, 1815**, the *Pharaon*, a fine three-masted merchant ship, was sighted approaching the harbor of Marseille. As she drew nearer to shore, those watching her noticed that she was sailing unusually slowly and in a rather strange manner.

"Something must have happened aboard," people whispered to one another. "What could have gone wrong?"

Among the spectators stood a gentleman who appeared particularly anxious. Unable to wait for the ship to reach the quay, he jumped into a small boat and ordered the boatman to row him out to the vessel.

As the boat came alongside, a young man of about twenty, with dark skin, black hair, and bright black eyes, stepped to the ship's rail and leaned over it. His face was calm and serious, the face of someone already accustomed to danger.

"Is that you, Dantès?" the gentleman called. "What has happened?"

"A great misfortune, Monsieur Morrel," the young sailor replied. "When we were nearing Civitavecchia, we lost our brave captain, Leclère."

Turning briefly toward the crew, he issued a quick command before facing Monsieur Morrel once more.

The *Pharaon* belonged to the shipping company of Monsieur Morrel, and Edmond Dantès served as her first mate.

"It cannot be helped, Edmond," said Monsieur Morrel sadly. "One day we all die, and the old must make way for the young. Tell me—how is the cargo?"

"It is perfectly safe, Monsieur Morrel, and worth a great deal of money. If you come aboard, Monsieur Danglars, our supercargo, will give you all the details. As for me, I must return to the bridge."

Monsieur Morrel climbed quickly up the gangway and stepped onto the deck, where he was greeted by Monsieur Danglars.

Danglars was about twenty-five years old. Neither his manners nor his expression inspired sympathy, and none of the sailors cared for him. He was cold, spiteful, and deceitful.

"So, Monsieur Morrel," he said, "you have heard of Captain Leclère's death?"

"Yes. A terrible loss. He was a brave and honorable man."

"And an excellent seaman," replied Danglars. "He grew old between the sea and the sky, just as any man serving the house of Morrel & Son ought to."

"Perhaps," answered Morrel, glancing toward Dantès, who was skillfully handling the ship, "but a man does not need gray hair to do his duty well. Our friend Edmond seems to know his work perfectly and requires no assistance."

"Indeed," replied Danglars, casting Dantès a look that betrayed both envy and dislike. "He is young... perhaps a little too confident. The captain had scarcely breathed his last before Dantès assumed command without consulting anyone. And then he wasted a day and a half at the Island of Elba instead of sailing directly to Marseille."

"He was right to take command," said Morrel firmly. "That was his duty as first mate. But if the ship required no repairs, then losing a day and a half certainly calls for an explanation."

"The ship was in perfect condition," replied Danglars. "We delayed only to go ashore."

"Dantès!" called Monsieur Morrel. "Come here, if you please."

"In just a moment, Monsieur Morrel," answered the young sailor.

He gave a few final orders. The *Pharaon* glided smoothly alongside the quay, while her anchor splashed into the water below.

Only then did Edmond Dantès approach his employer.

"The ship is now safely secured," he said. "I am at your service. You wished to see me?"
"I have a few questions to ask you, Dantès," said Monsieur Morrel. "Why did you stop at the Island of Elba?"

"I do not know the exact reason, Monsieur Morrel. It was Captain Leclère's final order. As he lay dying, he entrusted me with a letter and begged me to deliver it to General Bertrand."

Monsieur Morrel glanced cautiously around the deck. Then, drawing Dantès aside, he asked quietly,

"And how is Napoleon?"

"He seemed to be in excellent health, as far as I could judge."

"You spoke with him?"

"No, sir. He spoke to me. He asked about the *Pharaon*—when we had left Marseille, what route we had followed, and what cargo we were carrying. Had the ship been empty and had I been her owner, I believe he would have bought her. But I explained that I was only the first mate and that the vessel belonged to the firm of Morrel & Son."

"'Ah,' he said, 'I know them well. The Morrels have been shipowners for many years. There was even a Morrel who served with me in the same regiment at Valence.'"

"That is true!" exclaimed Monsieur Morrel enthusiastically. "He was my uncle, Polycar Morrel. Tell him that Napoleon remembered him, and you will see the old soldier's eyes light up with pride."

He laid a friendly hand upon Edmond's shoulder.

"You acted wisely, Dantès, in carrying out Captain Leclère's final wishes. But be careful. If it becomes known that you delivered a letter to General Bertrand and spoke with Napoleon, you could find yourself in serious trouble."

"Why should that be?" asked Dantès in surprise. "I had no idea what the letter contained, and Napoleon asked me nothing that he might not have asked any sailor. But now, if you will excuse me, I must return to my duties."

With a respectful bow, he walked away.

Danglars immediately stepped back to Monsieur Morrel.

"So," he asked with feigned innocence, "did he give you a satisfactory explanation for the stop at Elba?"

"A perfectly satisfactory one, my dear Danglars."

"I am pleased to hear it," replied Danglars. "It is always unpleasant to see a man neglect his duty."

"Dantès has done nothing of the kind," answered Morrel firmly. "The order came directly from Captain Leclère, and I do not wish to discuss the matter any further."

"Speaking of Captain Leclère," Danglars continued cautiously, "did Dantès give you the letter the captain intended for you?"

"A letter for me? Did Captain Leclère leave me one?"

"So I believed. It seemed to me that he handed Dantès two letters."

"And how do you know that?" Morrel asked sharply.

Danglars flushed.

"I happened to pass the captain's cabin while the door was open. I saw him hand Dantès two letters."

"He has said nothing to me about any such letter," replied Morrel. "But if there is one, I am sure he will deliver it."

At that very moment Dantès returned, while Danglars discreetly withdrew once again.

"Well, my dear Dantès," said Monsieur Morrel warmly, "are you free now?"

"Yes, Monsieur Morrel."

"Will you come and dine with us this evening?"

"Thank you, Monsieur Morrel, but my first visit must be to my father. Do you happen to know how he is?"

"I believe he is well, although I have not seen him lately..."