After the last spadeful of earth had been put in the grave, and while handcuffed prisoners and all the bystanders were still present, an old St. Martin’s man, named Pierre Jehan, got up and made the following speech, which I have written down word for word as the people still tell it.
“Autrefois quand on enterrait des dépouilles mortelles on y envoyait des rameaux et des bouquets de fleurs. Aujourd’hui on ne voit rien de tout ça.”
“Autrefois on aurait donné un quartier de froment en fonds d’héritage pour porter le nom de ——. Aujourd’hui on en donnera quatre pour ne le pas porter.”
(“Formerly when burying a corpse one sent branches of trees and bouquets of flowers. To-day there is nothing of that.”
“Formerly one would have given a quarter of wheat rent to bear the name of ——. To-day one would give four not to bear it.”)
The shock and the shame were such that the brothers were seized by what the people call “a stroke,” and to the relief of their relations died in prison before being brought for trial.
That the ghosts of these two murdered men should revisit the scenes of the crime was only to be expected, but finally, when La Petite Porte was shut to sand-eelers by reason of “ces cris terribles,” some of the neighbours and fishermen began to wonder whether nothing could be done to lay these unquiet spirits and free the bay from its supernatural visitants.
There was a man called Pierre Thoume, who lived at Les Blanches, most popular in the parish, being ready to go everywhere and join in everything, though he was emphatically a “bon Chrétien.” He was a distant relative of the murderers of M. de Damèque, and, having heard these noises at various times, it was borne in upon him that perhaps if he could find out what the ghost wanted, he could fulfil its wishes, and so let it rest in peace. He even prayed for guidance, and more and more he felt it to be his duty to go and meet the ghost face to face. At first some other men said they would join him, but when the appointed night came their spirits failed them, and no one arrived at the rendezvous. Undaunted, and armed only with his Bible, Mr. Thoume sallied forth alone at midnight. I think it is difficult to realise what moral and physical courage it must have involved to go forth alone to encounter the supernatural, fully persuaded of its unearthly character.
Early in the morning he returned to his home, looking very white, and with a curiously set expression on his face. His wife and daughters, who had waited up for him, rushed at him to know what had happened, but he said, “You must never ask me what has happened, what I have seen, what I have done. I have sworn to keep it a secret, and as a secret it will die with me, but this I can tell you, you may go to La Petite Porte at any hour of the day or night, and never again shall any ghost haunt it, or noise or scream be heard.” And to this day the noises have utterly ceased.
Pierre Thoume kept his vow, though his family, friends, and neighbours, implored him time after time, even on his death bed, to tell them what he had seen. His invariable reply was, “I have given my word, and I will not break it.”[346]