The story resumes on the passage to her grandmother’s plantation in Martinique.
…
My mother and I sailed alone.
I was four years old at the time. We embarked at Havre. Hardly had we left port when a violent squall threatened to capsize our vessel.
On arriving at Martinique, we were received by my mother's family with transports of joy. We led a quiet life, visiting now at one plantation, now at another. My mother enjoyed our stay, and we returned to France only after three years.
I can recall only one particular incident of our stay at Martinique, but this registered itself on my imagination vividly. I was five years old at the time and I had never known what it was to shed a tear. Everybody had spoiled me, and never had one of my wishes or impulses been thwarted or rebuked.
One day, while living on my grandmother's plantation, I was playing beside a table on which she was counting money. Now and then a coin fell to the floor, and I hastened to pick it up and give it back to her. I noticed she made a dozen or more piles of big copper pennies which she placed on a chair when she left the room, taking the rest of the money with her.
In some way I cannot describe, the idea came to me that these pennies were intended for me, to do what I pleased with.
I was absolutely convinced of the fact, and gathered the separate piles into my skirt, which I tucked up so as to form a sort of pocket. Having done this I set out with my treasure trove perfectly free from any qualm of conscience, so firmly was I convinced that the money really belonged to me. Going to one of the mulatto house-servants I announced, "John, look at all this money granny gave me for the poor black people. Take me round to their cabins so I can give it to them."
This is supposed to be young Hortense but the coloring is off.
The heat was terrific as the sun was still high, but so keen was my pleasure I could not bear to wait. John and I discussed the best means of doing the greatest good to the greatest number of poor people.
I went from cabin to cabin, my money still in my tucked-up skirt, which I held firmly with one hand, only taking out the sums John had decided I ought to give. My mother's old nurse received a double share. At length all my money was gone. A crowd of grateful negroes surrounded me kissing my hands and feet and I returned to the house triumphantly, filled with joy at having been the cause of so much happiness.
On my arrival I found everything in a state of commotion. My grandmother was looking everywhere for her money. The servants were terrified as no one knew who might be accused. In a flash I realized what I had done and, overcome with despair, was obliged to admit my guilt.
I confessed immediately to my grandmother, but what an agony that confession was. Reproaches were heaped upon me. I was made to feel I had been a liar and a thief. But it was simply my imagination that had led me astray. I had seen the coppers set aside and heaped up into separate piles and concluded they must be intended for the poor. The money was left on a chair within my reach; consequently, I was to take it and distribute it.
Out of these fictions I had made a reality. The humiliation I suffered as a result of this incident was so intense that it influenced my character permanently. Ever afterwards I mistrusted my imagination and I believe I can declare sincerely that, since that far-off day, I have never told a lie or even sought to embellish the truth to the slightest degree.
News of the Revolution caused disturbances in the colony. Monsieur de Viomesnil and Monsieur de Damas in turn became governors, but the latter was obliged to leave precipitately. We were living at Government House at the time. One night my mother received word that the cannon of Fort Royal were to open fire on the town the following day.
Immediately she arranged to have us taken aboard a frigate whose captain she knew. As we crossed the fields, which are called savannahs, a cannon-ball fell close behind us. The next day the town was seized by the revolutionists, and the French ships were ordered to return to their anchorage under threat of being fired on by all the guns of the fort. The crew of our vessel announced their intention of returning to France. They carried out their threat and hoisted sail, but as we were leaving the harbor the mutineers fired on us.
Thanks to Providence we escaped untouched. It was in this unexpected and sudden manner we left Martinique. We had not been able to say farewell to any of our dear ones.
The frigate on which we found ourselves was called the Sensible. Toulon was her destination. The crossing was favorable as far as the Straits of Gibraltar. There our pilot made a mistake and steered too near the African coast. We touched bottom. A few instants later the ship was aground.
Sailors, passengers and children all tugged at the ropes, and once more we escaped an imminent danger. On her arrival at Toulon (early in November, 1790) my mother learned for the first time of the events that were disrupting France. The Revolution had broken out, and my father had become a prominent figure of the political party whose doctrines he had espoused. His brother had joined an opposing group, while my grandfather had retired to Fontainebleau accompanied by his old friend Madame Renaudin, one of my mother's aunts.
It was to Fontainebleau that she and I went to live. Eugene had been a boarder at the College d'Harcourt. He left school and joined us. It was at this period that he and I developed that similarity of tastes and feelings which caused us always to agree in our amusements, our happiness and our misfortune, and to react in the same way to any event affecting our common lot.
