Dreyfus on Devil's Island.

Manawatu Herald, 22 November 1898, Page 2

Dreyfus on Devil's Island.

A SAILOR'S ACCOUNT OF A VIST TO THE EXILE.

In a recent issue of Kuche and Keller, Karl Weinheber, cook of the Netherland steamship Andalusia, gives this account of a visit to Devil's Island : —

Our ship, the Netherland steamship Andalusia, was anchored off Devil's Island on April ist after a visit to Cayenne, when we were hailed from shore. At the same time a small boat put off, manned by soldiers. They came alongside to ask the captain tor the loan of a cook while the Andalusia was waiting for freight. The cook of the little garrison had broken his arm, they said, and our cook was to teach one of their men, so that he might be able to attend to the kitchen until another was sent by the commander. The captain sent me to the island, and while busy in the little kitchen instructing a soldier in the mysteries of broiling lamb chops and cooking pork, I had plenty of opportunity to question Captain Dreyfus' guards. The men, who had at first seemed disinclined to speak, became quite loquacious after a while. "He "• was not so ill-treated as those in the world seemed to think ; "he" is not confined ; "he " can go everywhere on the island. Of course, two men are always at his heels. " He " gets up between 6 and 7 in the morning, and his first breakfast consists of a cup of chocolate. If the weather is good "he " goes for a walk soon afterwards and winds up his promenade by a bath.

" But are you not afraid he mijfrt swim away or commit suicide ?" I asked.

" Not at all," said the soldiers, '|for a rope is fastened to both his wrists, and the ends of the rope are in the hands of the guard. After the bath he takes his second breakfast — butter, bread, ham or eggs and a bottle of beer. Then he goes in for study. JJe reads and writes for several hours.'^

" What kind of books has he got ?" The soldiers looked at each other. After a while one of them said: "He is only allowed to read technical works. But he can write whatever he pleases. He is now writing an account of his life."

" Must he show you what he writes ?"

" No ; we read only the letters he desires to have forwarded. These apf sent to the commander in Cayenne." "And does the commander send them off as received ?"

•'No; they are copied, and the originals are retained at Cayenne." " What does he do besides reading and writing ?" " Two weeks ago we received permission from the commander to play cards with the prisoner, and he has become an inveterate gambler since. After dinner— he has always soup, a roast, and dessert — about 2 o'clock in the afternoon we always play baccaraA* together." "~ 11 What are the stakes ?"

The soldier laughted. "He has not got a sou, and there are probably not three francs on the whole island. We play for shells. The prisoner gets his supper at 6 in the evening— roast or ham and a bottle of beer. Soon afterward he goes to bed. He is not allowed to have any light, you know. Only the guard at the door keeps up a wooden fire. He says the hours from 7to 10 are his worst. He cannot go to sleep before io o'clock, and the guard is not allowed to answer any question he may put. In the daytime we may talk to him, but only on the most trifling subjects— the weather, his health, &c. Our own country is not to be mentioned." " Is he allowed to smoke />" " No ; that is, I think he is not, for the commander does not furnish him with tobacco." " May I leave some cigars for him ?" The soldier did not answer. I emptied my tobacco pouch and my cigar case on the table. I hope he got what I left for him. As I was about to return to my ship I saw a man, followed by two soldiers, approaching from the strand. Dreyfus ! I He seemed to have heard of my pre- I sence and measured me with questioning looks. His lips moved, but he did not speak. He' is a middle-sized man, cadaverous and of a yellow complexion. His eyes are deep in their sockets, he walks with a stoop, and his forehead is furrowed. He is growing old rapidly, no doubt. Dreyfus whispered with his guard, and when the latter had nodded assent walked up to me and shook me by the hand. " Bring my good wishes to the wide world," he said, in a voice quavering with emotion. Then he walked slowly towards his hut, where he remained standing at the door waving his hand as my boat dashed into the billows. Half an hour later we were on our way home.