The knocking sounded again, more urgent than Stevenson's knock earlier.
Lionel frowned, there were certainly many visitors today; he walked over and opened the cabin door again.
This time, the scene outside the door stunned him.
The narrow first-class aisle was actually packed with people!
Not one, not two, but a group, about seven or eight of them, lined up in the aisle.
All their gazes were focused on Lionel.
The middle-aged man standing at the front spoke first:
"Good evening, Mr. Lionel Sorel!"
Lionel looked at this group of uninvited guests with a slight bewilderment.
He naturally recognized these people as reporters from major American newspapers and magazines.
The New York Herald, The New York Tribune, The New York Sun, Harper's Weekly, The Atlantic Monthly, The Century Magazine...
How did reporters from these top American media outlets appear at his cabin door at the same time?
Before he could ask, the man continued:
"Mr. Sorel, to make a long story short. We are all here for the same reason.
We hope that you can let us publish the eight wonderful stories you told during this voyage—from '80 Years' to the old fisherman fighting the sea—
We are all willing to offer you the highest manuscript fee standard in all of America. The New York Herald is willing to pay 30 cents per word!"
The other reporters couldn't hold back either and began to offer prices, generally 30 cents per word, with the highest shouting up to 50 cents per word.
This was undoubtedly a sky-high price—one must know that at the current exchange rate, 1 US dollar could be exchanged for at least 5 francs!
A doubt rose in Lionel's mind:
"The 'Perell' has been at sea and just anchored. How did you get authorization from the newspapers?"
The New York Herald reporter explained:
"As soon as the 'Perell' anchored, we descended to a dinghy with a rope ladder, and then spent some money..."
Another young reporter from The Century Magazine interrupted him, adding:
"The dinghy took us to the lighthouse on Sandy Hook!
There were telegraph lines directly to New York from there, and we immediately reported the stories you created on the ship to our respective headquarters using the lighthouse's telegraph system.
Soon, we received replies—almost all headquarters' instructions were the same: secure the exclusive publication rights for these stories at all costs!
The manuscript fees can be offered at the highest!"
Lionel was speechless after hearing this.
He knew that competition in American media was fierce, but he didn't expect it to reach this level.
To scoop news, these reporters spared no effort, even using the lighthouse's telegraph, which was only supposed to be used for major accidents.
He couldn't help but exclaim:
"Your American reporters are so fast! Our French reporters are probably still queuing for quarantine right now..."
The reporters wore triumphant expressions.
However, Lionel shook his head:
"Thank you very much for your kindness. Whether it's 30 cents or 50 cents per word, these are very generous offers.
But, I'm sorry, I cannot agree to your request now."
The reporters almost spoke in unison: "Why?"
Their faces were filled with bewilderment.
Lionel spread his hands:
"The creative volume is too large. Those stories are still only oral, and I need time to write them, all eight of them!
It's impossible for me to deliver eight quality novels simultaneously in a short period. That would be irresponsible to you and to my readers.
So, it's better to wait until I settle down, have time to sit down, and write them out slowly."
Seeing Lionel's firm stance and reasonable explanation, the reporters, though disappointed, could no longer insist.
They could only leave their business cards, repeatedly reminding Lionel to prioritize them once any manuscripts were completed, and then left disgruntled.
Lionel closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long breath.
He wasn't that foolish; even if he had them ready, he wouldn't release all eight short stories at once, as that would make them too "cheap."
After all, telling stories is one thing, and writing novels is another.
————————
The next day, the "Perell," guided by a pilot boat, slowly sailed into New York Harbor, heading towards the docks at the southern end of Manhattan Island.
As the ship approached, Lionel, Zola, Maupassant, and others standing by the ship's rail were all stunned by the sight before them.
This was perhaps the grandest welcome they had ever witnessed in their lives—
The dock area in Lower Manhattan was packed with people, a dense crowd stretching from the pier to the streets behind, as if the entire population of New York City had surged there.
Thousands of faces looked up at the slowly approaching "Perell," talking, shouting, waving their arms, making it even noisier than Christmas.
On the docks, countless colorful flags and banners fluttered in the breeze.
In addition to the American Stars and Stripes and the French Tricolor, there were many banners with welcome slogans:
"Welcome, Masters of France!"
"Homage to Zola, to Daudet, to Sorel!"
"Long Live Zola!"
"Long Live Franco-American Friendship!"
"Welcome to New York!"
On some large banners, even the names and portraits of the nine writers were printed.
A large brass band, dressed in bright uniforms, lined up neatly on the dock and played the majestic "La Marseillaise";
After one song, it was immediately followed by the lively "Yankee Doodle."
The stirring music, mixed with the cheers, whistles, and applause of the crowd, formed a massive wave of sound.
Even Lionel and his companions, standing high on the ship's rail, felt deafened.
Reporters scrambled for the best positions, at least twenty or thirty cameras were set up, and flashbulbs were ready.
Many members of high society, dressed in splendid evening wear, stood in the foremost areas, eagerly looking forward.
Huysmans adjusted his spectacles and murmured,
"My God! This spectacle is even more exaggerated than Emperor Napoleon's triumphal return, isn't it?"
Maupassant excitedly waved his hat, greeting the crowd on the dock, even though the people below couldn't clearly see who he was.
"Look! Look! I knew we would cause a sensation in the New World!"
Even Zola, who was usually composed, was quite moved at this moment, constantly straightening his tie, afraid it might be even slightly crooked.
The "Perell" finally docked steadily, securely fastened with ropes.
Amidst everyone's anticipation, led by Émile Zola, Lionel Sorel, Alphonse Daudet, Guy de Maupassant, Edmond de Goncourt, Joris-Karl Huysmans, Paul Alexis, Léon Hennique, Henri Céard...
The nine French writers, carrying their suitcases, slowly descended the gangway.
The moment their feet touched American soil, the welcoming crowd erupted in a colossal, tsunami-like cheer!
The sound seemed to tear open the sky!
Hats were tossed into the air, handkerchiefs waved like white butterflies;
Flashbulbs popped, emitting clouds of white smoke, capturing this historic moment.
New York City Mayor William Grace and the French Consul General in New York, Paul de Verny, stood at the very front of the crowd, greeting them with smiling faces.
Mayor Grace shook hands with Zola, Lionel, and the others one by one, then delivered a brief welcome speech:
"Gentlemen! Welcome to New York! Welcome to the United States of America!
Your arrival is both a grand event for New York and a testament to the friendship between our two nations!
New York is eager to experience your brilliance and feel the charm of France!"
Émile Zola, as the representative, stepped forward and expressed his gratitude in French:
"Distinguished Mr. Mayor, Mr. Consul General, and all the enthusiastic citizens of New York!
Thank you for such a grand and warm welcome! We have come with greetings from France, and we also look forward to gaining new inspiration in this New World.
We believe this will be a pleasant journey!"
Immediately after, William Grace and Paul de Verny led the nine writers to shake hands and meet with the dignitaries in the "VIP section."
However, the crowd was too large, and it was too noisy, so Lionel couldn't remember anyone's name.
Then they shook hands with some of the ordinary citizens at the front, and after one round, everyone's hands were red from being grasped.
Only then did this grand ceremony conclude.
But what followed was an arrangement that surprised the writers even more—
On one side of the dock, nine luxurious four-wheeled carriages were neatly parked, each painted dazzling gold and decorated with exquisite patterns.
The horses pulling the carriages were tall and magnificent, their harness gleaming, almost as if preparing for a royal procession.
In front of each golden carriage stood a young man and woman, impeccably dressed, handsome and beautiful, with smiles on their faces.
An official responsible for reception explained to the writers that these young people were the children of New York's most prominent aristocratic families.
The men were mostly students from prestigious universities like Harvard, Yale, and Columbia, while the women were students from America's best women's colleges.
Each of them was proficient in French and familiar with French literature, specially selected to serve as companions and guides for Lionel and the others.
They would be responsible for answering any questions from the esteemed guests and introducing them to New York's customs, historical buildings, or anything else they might be interested in.
Lionel was led to one of the golden carriages, where the young guides waiting were all sixteen or seventeen years old, full of youthful vigor.
The young man was tall and well-built, dressed in a fitted suit; the young woman was beautiful and elegant, wearing a pale blue long dress.
The official making the introduction said to Lionel:
"Mr. Sorel, these two will be your guides during your stay in New York.
This is Mr. John Pierpont Morgan Jr., and this is his sister, Miss Anne Morgan.
They are the finest young people from the Morgan family!"
The Morgan family?
Lionel's heart stirred slightly; of course, he knew the financial empire that surname represented.
John Pierpont Morgan Jr. stepped forward first and said in fluent French:
"Mr. Sorel, it is a great honor to be your guide in New York.
We have all read your works, especially 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,' which are absolutely brilliant."
Anne Morgan also smiled and performed a curtsy, her voice clear:
"Welcome to New York, Mr. Sorel.
We look forward to making you feel the warmth of this city."
Lionel responded politely:
"Thank you very much, Mr. Morgan, Miss Morgan. I appreciate your trouble."
The other writers were also led to their respective carriages to meet their young guides.
Subsequently, the nine French writers, accompanied by their respective young guides, boarded the nine dazzling golden carriages.
As the coachmen gently flicked the reins, the horses began to step, and this golden motorcade, amidst gazes and cheers, slowly set off, heading towards the heart of Manhattan, New York...
(End of Chapter)