Everywhere they saw marks of the pirate’s barbarity.
The weeping inhabitants then knew all the extent of their losses. Each family had learned which one of its members had perished or had been taken captive.
During the battle, they thought only of defending themselves and repulsing the enemy; then, too, night had veiled the disasters which day revealed in all their horror. On one side, walls blackened by the conflagration barely supported the tottering carpentry.
Farther on was the town hall, of which only the walls remained. Its windows were broken, its balcony demolished, its doors burned to ashes, its foundations charred, and showers of balls everywhere proved that the citizens had defended themselves with vigorous earnestness.
The large square of La Ciotat, the theatre of the most murderous conflict of that fatal night, was covered with dead bodies.
Nothing could be more heartrending than to see the afflicted inhabitants seeking a father, a brother, a son, or a friend among these dead.
When they recognised one whom they sought, the others, petrified with grief, would look on in silence; again, some would utter impotent cries for vengeance; and some in their wild lamentation would rush to the port, as if they would there find the galleys of the lawless brigands.
The commander and Father Elzear walked through this scene of desolation, speaking words of consolation to the unfortunate sufferers, and asking information of Raimond V.
They learned that he had made a most valuable and courageous defence, by attacking the pirates at the head of the company from Maison-Forte, but no one could tell them if the baron was wounded or not.
The two brothers, in their anxiety, hastened to Maison-Forte, followed by a few subordinate officers of the galley, and by Luquin Trinquetaille, who had also anchored his polacre in the port.