Young Monte Cristo or the Millions of the Sunken Island
Howard Austin
21 pages Pluck and Luck - 1913 - États-Unis Roman
Intérêt: 0
Ce « dime novel » publié le 28 mai 1913 dans
la collection hebdomadaire Pluck and Luck sous
le numéro 782, est le deuxième écrit par Howard Austin
après Monte
Cristo Jr or The Diamonds of the Borgias.
C'est aussi peut-être le plus nul de tous (et il y a de
la concurrence). Le plagiat du Comte de
Monte-Cristo est direct, bien sûr, mais même pas
fidèle ni cohérent.
Résumons : Harry
Wilmer est un adolescent, fils d’un banquier prospère.
Sauf que le caissier de celui-ci, l’infâme Archer
Denbow, le dépouille et siphonne sa fortune. Pire
encore, il assassine le banquier. Toujours pire, il fait
accuser et condamner Harry pour parricide. Voilà
celui-ci jeté en prison pour des années.
Heureusement, son ami Ben le fait évader, non sans
avoir préalablement récupéré des documents appartenant
au père de Harry, qui donnent les clés pour retrouver un
fabuleux trésor : au XVIIIème siècle, une île est
apparue au large de l’Afrique à l’occasion d’un
tremblement de terre. Elle comportait les ruines d’une
cité antique bourrée d’objets en or. L’île a très vite
disparu de nouveau, mais sa position figure sur un
document rédigé en persan ancien.
Les deux jeunes gens partent vers l’Afrique sur le
yacht opportunément acheté par Ben, un garçon décidément
plein de ressources. Menu problème : ils sont
incapables de déchiffrer le document qui situe l’île.
Mais qu’à cela ne tienne : en pleine mer, ils
sauvent un naufragé qui, mais oui, est expert en persan
ancien. Ils peuvent donc se rendre exactement à
l’endroit où l’île était apparue, où l’on ne voit que la
pleine mer.
Mais à l’instant précis où ils l’atteignent, voilà-t-y
pas qu’un tremblement de terre fait réapparaître
l’île : leur yacht se retrouve perché sur les toits
de la ville disparue (sans le moindre dommage au
navire). Ca leur permet de charger tranquillement les
soutes avec le trésor de l’île. Une fois cela terminé,
un nouveau tremblement de terre fait disparaître l’île à
nouveau et met obligeamment le bateau à l’eau.
Cinq ans plus tard, deux jeunes gens pleins d’argent
s’installent à New York. L’un d’entre eux se fait
appeler astucieusement Monsieur de Monte Cristo. Il
s’agit – qui l’eût cru ? – de Harry, accompagné de
son fidèle Ben. Ils entreprennent de se venger de
Denbow, dont les affaires ont prospéré. Harry s’arrange
pour lui faire faire des investissements boursiers
désastreux et pour détourner de lui sa fiancée. Les deux
camps s’affrontent violemment jusqu’à la défaite finale
de Denbow qui passe sur la chaise électrique pour le
meurtre initial du père de Harry.
Absurde, incohérent, ce récit ne réussit même pas à
« bien » plagier Le comte de Monte-Cristo.
En particulier, si le début de la vengeance (quand Harry
cherche à ruiner son ennemi et à lui prendre sa fiancée)
vient tout droit de Dumas, l’effort tourne court. Harry
se révèle très vite impétueux et irréfléchi, tombe dans
les pièges de Denbow, etc.
Au final, ce Young Monte Cristo n’est qu’une
variation de plus sur le thème quasi obsessionnel dans
les dime novels du « garçon qui devient aussi riche
que Monte-Cristo ».
Extrait du chapitre X Five years later
New York in the early days of June!
None but a true New Yorker can understand why these
words are entitled to a paragraph by themselves.
The proper time to see New York in her glory is in the
early days of June.
On June 10, 188-, just five years later than the date
of the remarkable adventures of Harry Wilmer and Ben
Bluff on the sunken Island, at half-past twelve in the
afternoon, an ordinary hack drove rapidly up to the
Vesey street entrance of the Astor House, and two
gentlemen stepped out.
They entered the hotel, leaving the tall French valet
who accompanied them to look after valises, hat-boxes,
umbrellas and canes.
They were certainly fine specimens of manhood; both
were tall and well developed.
In the matter of clothes they might have been taken for
twin brothers, for both were dressed exactly alike, and
after a style truly Parisian.
On the Astor House register they signed the names H. de
Monte Cristo and B. d'Owling, and were assigned to the
most expensive suit of rooms in the house, where dinner
was served to them, and from which for more than two
hours they did not emerge.
Meanwhile, the tall, French valet who knew his
business, was busy.
He worked cautiously, industriously, effectively.
At the end of one hour everybody in the hotel, from the
proprietor to the hall boys, had it firmly fixed in
their minds that "H. de Monte Cristo" was the grandson
of the famous Count of Monte Cristo, and was worth fifty
millions at the very least.
The servants believed this absolutely, the proprietor
of the hotel of course believed it with a doubt.
"Look out for those French fellers in No. 23," he said
to the clerk. "They may be all right, and they may be a
couple of adventurers. One can never tell."
"I think they are all right, sir," said the clerk,
quietly.
"What makes you so sure?"
Now, the clerk of the Astor House had a brother at the
Ecole des Fines Artes in Paris who occasionally sent him
the Parisian papers.
From a drawer in his desk the clerk drew a copy of the
Paris Figaro of recent date, and, pointing to a marked
article, laid it down before his superior.
"Well, what's the use of showing me that; I can't read
it," snapped the proprietor.
"I'll read it for you," said the clerk, with a superior
smile.
What he read was this:
"It is rumored that Monsieur de Monte Cristo and his
bosom friend, Monsieur d'Owling, are about to dispose of
their splendid residence in the Rue de Plessy and depart
for America. This will be regretted by their many
friends and a host of tradesmen who for the last few
years have fattened on Monsieur de Monte Cristo's
wealth, which, as every one knows, is boundless. We have
it direct from MM. Mosenthal, the bankers, that Monsieur
de Monte Cristo has recently transferred in anticipation
of his change of residence, 50,000,000 francs to their
New York agency. It is to be regretted that Paris is to
lose so wealthy and accomplished a gentleman, and we
sincerely hope that his absence will not be for long."
This was enough.
The following morning all New York rang with the coming
of Monsieur Monte Cristo, who, it seemed, had crossed
the ocean in his own private yacht, the Florine.
Reporters and tuft hunters flocked to the Astor House
in droves, but they had their labor for their pains.
Monsieur was invisible to every one.
The visitors were received by Mr. B. d'Owling, a bluff
young gentleman speaking excellent English, who in the
most emphatic terms informed them that his friend was a
private individual, desired no notoriety, and could not
be seen.
This, of course, only served to increase the curiosity,
and Monsieur Monte Cristo and his fabulous wealth were
talked of on all sides.
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