Souvenirs de l'île aux singes | Part one

Souvenirs de l'île aux singes, Part One

The Poirier Manor, an imposing building perched on the summit of a hill overlooking the coastal town of Sainte-Marie, was the home of the Poirier family. The father, Charles, was a stern and serious man who had chosen a career in finance, while the mother, Marianne, was an elegant and refined woman, obsessed with social success. Their only son, Casimir, had a different nature, passionate about adventure and discovery, driven by an irrepressible desire to go explore the world. He had inherited from his grandfather Hyppolite, a whimsical and eccentric old man, who had devoted his life to the search for a mysterious island: the island of monkeys.

 

 

The patriarch was an intriguing figure, both fascinating and disturbing. His piercing eyes seemed to penetrate souls, and his wry smile hinted at a dark and cynical sense of humor. He would spend hours rummaging through old leather trunks, amidst yellowed documents and time-worn maps. His obsession with Monkey Island was known to all. It was hard to believe that he had not lost his mind. It was said that his grandfather himself had explored unknown lands in distant regions and that this passion for adventure had been passed down from generation to generation like an incurable genetic disease.

As for Casimir, he was both strange and charming, a young man with a lofty demeanor, tousled brown hair, and bright clear eyes sparkling with emotion. He couldn't help but dream of a world where anything was possible, where horizons stretched infinitely, where the boundary between the real and the fantastic would be porous. He loved to immerse himself in wonderful stories, forgotten legends, fabulous tales, and he could not conceive of life without this touch of magic.

Finally, the Poirier Manor, with its tall columns, its pointed windows, its majestic staircase, and its stone facade, was a jewel of architecture, a symbol of wealth and power. The rooms were vast and luxurious with wall tapestries, vaulted ceilings, and monumental fireplaces. One could easily get lost in it due to the many corridors, anterooms, and lounges. Every corner seemed to hold a secret. Despite its splendor and opulence, the Poirier Manor was a place where anxiety and tension were palpable, where unspoken words and lies hung like an opaque veil. 

Beneath the lavish veneer of past glory lay a sinister and suffocating atmosphere. The manor seemed imbued with an aura of mystery and misfortune that could not be concealed by the beauty of its architecture. The rough stone walls appeared to sweat an ancestral sadness that oppressed the hearts of those who entered. The ancient and majestic furniture, which testified to the family's past wealth, seemed haunted by lost and tormented souls.

As for the Poirier family, to delve deeper into the subject, it was marked by unspeakable secrets and deep divisions. Charles was a haughty and cold man, obsessed with financial success and the image of respectability it provided. He had renounced the family legacy, preferring to invest himself in the business world, much to the chagrin of his father Hyppolite.

As for him, he had become, over time, an old solitary man, haunted by his dreams of adventure and glory. He had devoted his life to the search for the island of monkeys, convinced that he could find an invaluable treasure there. His obsession had driven him away from his family, who could no longer bear his delusions and repeated absences.

Marianne, Casimir's mother, was a subdued and submissive woman who had given up her dreams to follow her husband in his quest for ego. She took care of household tasks with zeal, but her sad and resigned gaze betrayed her deep melancholy.

Casimir, passionate and dreamy, had inherited his grandfather's adventurous spirit. He had grown up listening to his grandfather's fantastic tales, dreaming of one day boarding a ship and setting off to discover unknown lands. He was intelligent and cultured, but his thirst for adventure pushed him to reject the dull and stifling existence that his parents had destined for him. He was convinced that the island of monkeys really existed and that he was capable of finding it. To do this, he would have to defy his father's authority and face the dangers that awaited him beyond the limits of the manor and his small town of Sainte-Marie.

The Poirier family was one of those families marked by the wounds of the past, unfulfilled dreams, and repressed tensions. Their imposing mansion poorly concealed their misfortune, but Casimir was determined to break the chains that held them captive and to set out in search of his destiny.

 

One winter evening, as the manor was plunged into a freezing darkness, which intensified the heavy atmosphere that usually prevailed in the great hall, the family had gathered in a leaden silence. The only sound was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace echoing when Charles suddenly stood up from his armchair and shot a furious glance at his father.

"I can no longer tolerate these nonsensical ramblings, Dad! You have stuffed our son's head with your stories of treasures and legendary islands. You are giving him false hopes, pushing him to chase impossible dreams!"

Hyppolite, sitting in his armchair, looked up at the sky with disdain.

"You are quite harsh, Charles. You have never understood my passion for adventure, for the mysteries hidden in the most remote corners of the world. I do not force Casimir to follow me. He is free to do as he wishes. If he has chosen to pursue my research, it is because he feels the call deep within himself."

Marianne intervened, her brows furrowed and her voice filled with anger.

"I agree with Charles, Hyppolite. You are putting crazy ideas in our son's head. You are pushing him to risk his life for fantasies."

"And you, Marianne, you believe in nothing, you dream of nothing," replied Hyppolite. "You do not understand the quest for the unknown, the desire to discover what is hidden, the call of adventure."

"I don't believe in what doesn't exist, that's true," replied Marianne. "I prefer to live in the real world, with achievable projects, concrete goals, real things."

Hyppolite sighed with disdain. "You are both down-to-earth, unimaginative, unambitious people. Casimir needs a bit of whimsy in his life, a bit of poetry. If he wants to go in search of unicorns, the island of monkeys, the secret of the pyramids, or the lost city of Xanadu, who are you to judge him?"

Charles clenched his fists, his face contorted with rage. "We are his parents, which gives us the right and the duty to protect him. You are only putting him in danger."

Hyppolite got up from his armchair, looking offended. "I have never endangered my grandson's life. I have always been careful, I have always taken all necessary precautions. If you do not want to help him in his research, that is your right, but do not prevent him from realizing his dreams; I have never held back yours myself, my son."

 

The tension was at its peak. Hyppolite left the room, slamming the door, leaving the family divided and tense. Casimir, who had silently witnessed the scene, was caught between two fires: on one side, his whimsical grandfather who nurtured his dreams."see the craziest ones, on the other hand, his parents who wanted to protect him from what they considered a dangerous madness."

Casimir felt torn between these two very different worlds. His grandfather had told him fascinating stories of buried treasures, lost worlds, distant and unknown islands. These stories had awakened in him a thirst for adventure, a desire to set out to discover the world and its most hidden secrets. His parents only wanted to protect him from these impossible dreams, from these illusions that could endanger his life. Each of them wanted the best for him.

Casimir no longer knew what to think or what to do. Should he follow in his grandfather's footsteps and set out in search of the island of monkeys, or should he listen to his parents and give up this dangerous quest? He was torn between two contradictory feelings: the desire to explore unknown lands, to live incredible adventures, to meet strange and fascinating peoples, and the fear of nothingness, failure, or even death.

For days and nights, Casimir reflected on his situation. He weighed the pros and cons, examined all the risks, all the advantages and all the disadvantages of his quest. He recalled the stories of his grandfather, the legends and myths surrounding the island of monkeys. He remembered the ancient maps, the travel tales, the testimonies of sailors. He told himself that he had to follow his instinct, that he had to follow the path laid out by his grandfather.

One evening, he made the decision to leave. He gathered all the things he would need: a knife, a compass, an oil lamp, and provisions for several weeks. He went to his grandfather's room and took with him all the maps, all the documents, all the notes and sketches related to Monkey Island, including the map of Baron Toad. He left the manor quietly, without saying a word to his parents who were then peacefully asleep.

He walked all night through the dark woods and the steep hill that separated him from the city. His head was full of dreams, visions, images. He could already see himself on the island, searching the ancient ruins, exploring the mysterious caves, discovering hidden treasures. He felt free, strong, invincible.

In the early morning, he arrived at the port. He looked for a ship that would take him on board, but all the sailors he approached thought he was a madman. They did not believe in the existence of his island and did not want to risk their lives for a "unicorn hunt," as they mockingly told him. 

Casimir had already tried in the past to rally support from people in salons, clubs, and good societies. Alas, he had attracted nothing but vile remarks and loud bursts of laughter. No bank and no insurance company had agreed to finance his expedition, to entrust him with a ship, or to help him assemble a crew. Such a young man, such a great journey, such an old dream… No certainty of results. However, Casimir was determined to prove that the island of monkeys truly existed, despite the doubts surrounding it.

Casimir felt more and more discouraged, but he did not give up. After several hours of determination and stubbornness, he met an experienced captain who was about to set sail.

"Hello, sir," said Casimir, timidly, as he approached the captain. "I am looking for a ship to take me in search of the island of monkeys."

"The captain, a rough man with a weathered face, burst out laughing. 'The island of monkeys? You must be crazy! There is no island of monkeys, baboons, gorillas, or shrews, and even if there were one, I wouldn't risk my life for it.'"

Casimir felt the anger rising within him. He was tired of being constantly ridiculed and despised. "So be it," he exclaimed, raising his voice, "I will leave alone! And no need for a boat when you can have a balloon! I will cross Africa by air, taking the shortest route among the birds, and I will prove that this map is true! My grandfather is not crazy, and neither am I! This island exists, and I will bring back its treasures of fruits and spices."

The other sailors and passersby turned around, intrigued by the lively exchange between young Casimir and the captain. The latter did not seem impressed. "Good luck with your balloon, little boy," he said with a laugh, before turning on his heels and heading towards his ship.

Casimir remained alone for a while on the quay, his heart racing, before going to sit on a bench in a café by the port. Taking his head in his hands, staring at the table in front of him, he recalled the morning. Perhaps they were all right? Perhaps his grandfather was an old fool and he himself even more so for having believed in all his stories?

A clearing of the throat startled him. Lost in his thoughts, our young friend had not noticed the man who was now facing him from across the table. His dark brown, slightly wavy hair framed a fine face. His brown eyes, imbued with a glimmer of intelligence, reflected both wisdom and mystery.

Although seated, one could guess his tall stature. The man must have measured just over 5 feet 11 inches, which gave him an imposing presence despite a slender silhouette. He was wrapped in a perfectly tailored gray suit, of a sober and refined style.

However, what caught the eye and added a touch of distinction to his face was his finely groomed mustache. It subtly accentuated his upper lip and added a note of charm to his appearance.

He was looking at Casimir while smiling.

"Alone and in a balloon," he said, looking amused.

Casimir understood that, like many on the dock, the individual had heard his conversation with the captain.

"I am not in the mood to endure your mockery, sir," said the young Poirier as he stood up... But a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

In front of him stood another man, stocky, with the demeanor of a dockworker, but dressed in an elegant charcoal suit that contrasted with his imposing build. His bowler hat, slightly tilted on his head, added a touch of mystery to his silhouette. His scowling face was framed by a long, thick black beard that accentuated his stern appearance. A wolf's tooth-shaped mustache enhanced his austere expression.

His deep, piercing brown eyes seemed to penetrate Casimir. He exuded a dark aura. His intense gaze fixed on the young man with a determination tinged with a certain distrust.

"I advise you, Mr. Poirier, to listen to us carefully," he grumbled.

Casimir Poirier is left speechless upon hearing his name pronounced...

"Please excuse my brother," replied the man sitting across from Casimir. "He is usually of a rather jovial temperament, but he has just endured a... let's say... eventful journey."

Continuing to smile, he stared at the young man who had a dazed look. 

"Let me introduce myself," he continued, handing over a business card, "I am J and this is my brother F... No need to know more," he continued, preempting any questions.

Casimir took the card and examined it in detail "Imaginary Counters, teas and spices from the ends of the earth and beyond. GFA"

These initials and monograms did not seem unfamiliar to him; searching his memory, he received a shock... He had seen the same ones on his grandfather's maps and notebooks. Every time he had asked him about it, old Hyppolite evaded the questions and referred to the simple name of "the company" as if everything was said with that simple word. 

"Well," J replied, "the island of monkeys by balloon then? Alone? Without maps, without directions?".

"I have cards and notebooks," objected Casimir, "those of my grandfather, the ones that Baron Toad had given him!".

His interlocutor raised an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued, before asking:

"The... Baron... Toad?".

"Uh yes... replied Casimir after a moment of hesitation, an Englishman, Toad... Toad, that... that means toad in English... I... I mean, it's not a toad, it's his name, well I think, it would be stupid to think that a toad...".

A mischievous glint passed in J's eyes, which seemed to send his brother a strange conspiratorial smile to which the latter responded with a slight grunt.

"Yes... Stupid indeed. Anyway, enough of useless chatter. Our company has heard about your project. We are ready to cover the costs. One of our collaborators is currently in discussions with your parents. At this very moment," he added, pulling a pocket watch from his vest, "he should have finished convincing them. Of course, they will be convinced that you are going with our company for a very serious guided trip for a year...".

The named J continued to lay out in detail his entire plan without giving the young Casimir Poirier a chance to say a word. When he finished, it was a dazed young man, full of confusion, who left the table looking bewildered to go home, leaving the two brothers alone at the table.

The smile that J had worn until then faded gently.

"He is very young and frail for such a journey," he said darkly.

"No more, no less than others," replied F. "Then, the company always supports one of its own!".

"Certainly... Certainly," J. seemed to accept.

"Oh really!", continued his brother, "who did you send to convince the family?".

J's smile returned to his face wider than ever: "That dear Lucius, of course!".

"Lucius?" the brother exclaimed before bursting into a thunderous laugh. "That should bring back good memories for old Hyppolite."

Casimir arrived in front of the family mansion. A carriage emblazoned with the monogram "CI" was waiting in front of the gate.

As Casimir walked up the path, he crossed paths with a strange man who stood still, like a vigilant guardian, at the entrance of the family manor. Tall and slender, this man with the demeanor of a butler was dressed in a black and gray tailcoat, exuding a classic and timeless elegance. His outfit recalled the livery of the great houses from the time when the service staff had to be impeccably dressed.

The clarity of the day highlighted the blonde hair of this man. They seemed to shine with a light akin to steel. His piercing eyes, a cold blue, scrutinized the surroundings with meticulous attention. They seemed capable of reading deep into souls, uncovering the best-kept secrets.

His impassive face betrayed an unwavering determination while emanating a strange aura. His upright and rigid posture reflected his attention to detail and sense of duty.

Casimir felt a slight apprehension as he met the gaze of this man. His inscrutable expression and imposing presence seemed to suggest that he was much more than just a simple butler. He stirred in him a curiosity mixed with a hint of unease.

Without a word, the man slightly inclined his head in a sign of greeting before resuming his motionless stance. He invited Casimir to escort him inside the manor, where new mysteries and revelations awaited him, then left in the direction of the carriage.

Casimir felt a shiver run down his spine as he crossed the threshold of the manor, closely followed by the man with the cold gaze. The next step of his adventure was about to begin, and he wondered what fate still had in store for him.

 

Casimir entered the grand dining room of the manor where his family was already seated around a long polished wooden table. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As he took his seat, Casimir couldn't help but notice the genuine smiles on everyone's faces. It was a striking contrast to the tensions and disagreements that had weighed down their family discussion earlier.

His father spoke first: "My dear Casimir, I must say that I am truly impressed by your decision. To embark on the spice trade with a reputable company and the prospect of traveling to Egypt and Turkey - such an opportunity for growth and adventure! It shows a level of maturity and ambition that warms my heart. It will satisfy your thirst for travel, without getting lost in the ramblings of your grandfather."

The old Hyppolite neither acknowledged the words nor the grating tone of his son, contenting himself with a mischievous smile.

"Marianne, her mother, sitting gracefully beside her husband, displayed a mix of concern and understanding. 'Although I cannot deny my worries for your safety, my dear son, I see the wisdom in your choice. It satisfies your thirst for exploration while pursuing a respectable profession. It is indeed a good compromise.'"

The atmosphere was strange. Casimir couldn't help but wonder if his parents were under the influence of some substances...

"As he reached his grandfather, the latter discreetly tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. With a smile, he whispered to him, 'That good Lucius hasn't changed... Time has spared him... And his talents seem quite intact, what a devil of a butler.'"

A mischievous glint shone in Casimir's grandfather's eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "Ah, Hyppolite, the old fox," thought Casimir. It was clear that his grandfather saw through the facade and knew as much, if not more, than his grandson about what was going on. He played along, enjoying the family's newfound unity.

"Bravo, my boy! You managed to find a path that satisfies everyone," exclaimed Hyppolite. His voice filled with sincere admiration: "Egypt and Turkey, you say? Magnificent destinations for a young man in search of knowledge and experiences of the world. Seize this opportunity, my dear Casimir, and let it shape you into the man you are destined to become."

Casimir could not help but feel a mix of gratitude and guilt at the thought of deceiving his family in this way. However, he knew it was the only way to achieve his dream. He smiled back at his grandfather, appreciating his support and understanding.

As dinner went on, the conversation turned to the logistics of Casimir's departure and the preparations to be made. The family discussed everything from travel arrangements to the types of spices he should study. They enthusiastically shared stories and recommendations, excitedly imagining the exotic scents and flavors that Casimir would discover during his journey.

Despite the underlying secrets and the expressed truths, the evening unfolded in a warm and joyful atmosphere. Casimir felt a deep sense of belonging, cherishing those moments spent with his family. Their support finally found gave him the strength to embark on this adventure, even if it meant keeping them in the dark about the true nature of his mission.

It mattered little that they were unaware that the world beyond their cozy manor was filled with hidden dangers and ancient conspiracies that Casimir would soon face. For now, surrounded by love and acceptance, he savored the bittersweetness of this moment, knowing that his departure would surely change his life forever.

 

 

 

Will Casimir manage to achieve his dream and reach Monkey Island? To be sure to be among the first to know, subscribe to the Explorers' Gazette!