The speronara would, on a near inspection by a nautical eye, appear
somewhat different to the general run of vessels of her rig and build.
There was evidently the greatest attention paid to her ropes, spars, and
oars. They were of the best hemp and toughest wood; not a stranded or
even worn sheet or halyard was to be seen; every spar was sound, and her
canvas was new and strong. Her crew, or those who sent her out of port,
seemed to consider that much might depend on her speed and capability of
keeping the sea.
If, however, she was employed in carrying passengers between Sicily and
Malta, it was very natural that her owners should make her appear as
seaworthy as possible, to induce people to trust their lives and
property in her. We will suppose her still outside the port, soon after
Jack Raby and his companions first saw her. Evidently the most
important person on board was a young man of very pleasing exterior. He
was rather tall than otherwise, and though slight, possessed a breadth
of chest which gave promise of great strength and activity. His
complexion was sunburnt, if not dark by nature, and his lip, which
betokened scorn and firmness, and gave an unattractive expression to his
countenance, was shaded by a thick curling moustache. His features were
decidedly regular and handsome; and had they been otherwise, his large,
flashing, dark eye would have challenged observation. His age was
probably about two or three-and-thirty--he might have been younger--and
he was certainly a very remarkable person. Those who saw him even but
for a moment, went away fancying that they had been long acquainted with
his features. His costume at once betrayed his nation; for he wore the
red fez, the embroidered jacket and full white kilt, and richly-worked
leggings and slippers of the Greek, and the cast of his countenance made
one also conclude that he belonged to that nation. The only other
person on board dressed in the Greek costume, was evidently some years
younger, and was neither so tall nor so strongly built as his companion.
His countenance was decidedly handsome, and what would be called
aristocratic. It was very grave, and, indeed, melancholy in the
extreme; and an accurate observer of character might have divined, from
the form of his mouth and expression of his eyes, that he was sadly in
want of firmness and decision in his actions, which idea, probably,
would not have been very far from the truth. His dress, though the
materials were good, was as plain as the costume he wore would allow;
but it could not be otherwise than elegant and handsome, and it sat well
upon his graceful figure.
Those two persons were earnestly engaged in conversation with another,
who appeared to be the master of the vessel, and they were standing
leaning over the side, away from the rest of the people on board.
"Remember, now," observed the principal Greek to the master, "you are to
be ready to weigh and make sail at a moment's notice; it may be
to-night, even--it may be tomorrow or on the following day--I cannot
say, but you must be prepared."
"_Signor, si_," answered the master in a tone of deep respect. "I will
take care to obey your commands to the letter; but I am afraid there may
be some difficulty with the authorities at the custom-house. They once
suspected me of smuggling, though I was as innocent as the babe unborn,
and they may detain me."
"You know the consequences," returned the Greek, with a fierce look; "I
will listen to no excuse if anything miscarries, so look to it!"
"It is a dangerous expedition you go on, signore," observed the Sicilian
master.
"Dangerous!" exclaimed the Greek, in a tone of contempt. "Danger is the
food we live on, the air we breathe; without it life would lose half its
zest. I'll tell you what, my friend, he is but a base-born slave who
knows not how to live, and fears to die. Give me a life of activity and
excitement, and when that ceases death will be welcome."
"You, signore, are the best judge of your own taste," answered the
Sicilian; "for my part, I am content to make an honest livelihood by
trading between my native city of Syracuse and yonder good port of
Valetta, where, please the holy saints, we shall drop our anchor in the
course of ten minutes."
"And anything else by which you may turn a colonna," muttered the Greek.
The speronara continued in her course, and as she came off Fort
Ricasoli, the other person habited as a Greek, who had not hitherto
spoken, observed the four figures suspended on the southern bastion.
"Holy Virgin, what are those?" he exclaimed in Italian.
"Those, signore," answered the padrone, as the master of the speronara
was called, with particular emphasis, "are pirates."
"Pirates!" ejaculated the young man, while a shudder ran through his
frame.
"_Si, signore, pirates_," answered the padrone, with a significant look.
"They had a short life of it after they had committed the acts for
which they were condemned. They had reached Smyrna with their booty,
when they were captured by the British and brought back here."
"An awful lesson to others to be more careful how they manage affairs,"
observed the principal Greek, laughing. "Now, I dare say, if the truth
was known, those fellows blundered terribly. It's always the case when
people get into the clutches of the law."
The other Greek shuddered and turned his head aside. "It is not a
pleasant sight," he observed.
"Oh! those English are terrible fellows for punishing those engaged in
any little transaction of that sort," said the padrone. "They are good
people, though."
"They are remarkably conceited," said the Greek, twirling his
moustache--"they believe that they can make the whole world obey them;
but it is time that we should look about us. Ah! steer near that
merchant-brig there, in the mouth of the harbour, I should like to have
a look at her that I might know her again."
The man at the helm put it so much to port, that the end of one of the
long tapering yards of the speronara nearly got foul of the _Zodiac's_
fore-yard.
"What the deuce are you lubbers about, that you cannot keep yourself
clear of your neighbours?" sung out Bowse's mate, from the main rigging.
"I'll teach you better manners if I catch you at sea, that's all."
"The Englishman seems angry," said the Greek, laughing. "That brig,
though, looks as if she had a valuable cargo on board. I must learn
more about her."
Conversation was now put a stop to, in consequence of the caution
necessary for steering into a thickly-crowded harbour, and the hurry of
bringing up.
She dropped her anchor among a number of similarly-rigged craft, close
inshore, where she lay exciting little or no observation, except that a
few boatmen saw her, and were calculating their prospects of having to
transport her passengers or merchandise to the landing-place.
As soon as her sails were stowed, which was speedily done, the
health-boat came alongside, and as it appeared she had come from Sicily,
pratique was immediately given her. She was next visited by the
custom-house boat. The officer, for some reason or other, seemed to
consider that there was something suspicious about her, for he examined
her papers very minutely, and read them over more than once, but was at
last obliged to pass them as correct. The vessel next underwent a
strict search, but nothing contraband was found on board her, and at
last he took his departure, even then casting back a look of doubt at
her, as if he was not thoroughly convinced that all was right.
During these proceedings the Greek sat in the after part of the vessel,
maintaining a perfect silence, while he played with the handle of a
short poniard which he wore in his sash.
"You appear to be suspected, my friend," he observed to the master, as
soon as the officers had gone.
"So it seems, signore," he answered. "The fact is, once upon a time, I
had a few bales of goods on board, which I contrived to land without
paying the duties, and I have ever since been watched as if I were a
smuggler."
"It was clumsy in you to be discovered," observed the Greek. "In the
present instance I might find it inconvenient."
A man in a small boat, who had been paddling quietly at a little
distance from the speronara, as soon as the government officials had
left her, darted alongside.
"Ah! Signor Sandro, welcome back to Malta," he exclaimed, addressing
the master of the little vessel. "I have not seen you here for a long
time."
"Not the less welcome I hope, Manuel," said the master.
"Few are who remember their friends and pay well," said the boatman.
"How can I best serve you, signore?"
"By landing my passengers, and giving them all the information they may
require," said the master. "Hark you, Manuel--put your head nearer--my
boy's life is answerable for their safety--so, as you love me, take care
that they get into no trouble. They seek a passage to some part of
their own country on board a merchantman, and have come here to look for
one to suit them."
"I understand clearly, signor," said the boatman, significantly. "But
who are they? What is their calling, or occupation?"
"Oh! mother of Heaven, don't ask me!" answered the padrone, with a
terrified look. "They may overhear you. It is not my business to put
questions to them. It is enough that they pay well, and do not wish to
be known. Besides, they would not scruple to cut my throat if they were
offended--and most assuredly their friends would string up my poor boy,
if anything went wrong with them. Even now, look at the captain--I mean
the best dressed of the two. How he is playing with the hilt of his
dagger there. He is meditating sticking it into my ribs because I am
talking so long to you. I tell you, you must watch over their safety;
and, in the name of the saints, aid them to get away as fast as
possible--for, till they are out of the place, I shall not feel my head
secure on my shoulders."
"Oh! I understand. They are political offenders disguised as Greeks,
who do not wish their movements to be known;" said the sharp-witted
boatman, jumping at a conclusion. "I'll undertake to serve you and
them--not forgetting myself--and, I trust, that they will make it worth
my while."
"No fear of that," the padrone was saying, when the Greek's voice
summoned him aft.
"What were you saying to the boatman?" he asked in an angry tone.
"I was making arrangements with him to take you on shore, signor, and do
your bidding," was the answer.
"Well, he may land me at once," said the Greek. "Paolo, do you remain
on board till I send for you, and let not a man quit the vessel on any
excuse," he whispered. "Such provisions as they require, the boatman
can bring off for them, and I will manage to make him faithful."
The Greek, without further remarks, swung himself over the side of the
vessel and took his seat in Manuel's boat.
"Hist, Manuel," he said, in the _lingua Franca_, well understood by the
Maltese boatmen; "you are debating in your mind whether you will inform
the authorities that a suspicious character has landed on the island,
and get a reward from them, or whether you will take the chance of
pocketing what my generosity may induce me to bestow. Now, mark me, my
honest friend. In the first place, I could get you hung for a little
transaction, of which you know."
The boatman started, and looked round with a suspicious glance.
"_Que diavolo_, who can this be?" he muttered.
"In the second, remember the English do not detain a man on bare
suspicions, and but shabbily reward an informer. On the other hand,
twenty colonati are yours, if you do my bidding. I do not want an
answer--you are not a fool. Now row on shore as fast as you can."
The Greek was a judge of character; and he seemed not to be altogether
unacquainted with Manuel, the boatman. The boat ran into the public
landing-place, and he stepped on shore with an independent and fearless
air, where he mingled among the busy and motley throng who crowded the
quay. The boatman, Manuel, sat in his boat a little distance from the
shore, watching him, and ready, apparently, to obey his orders when he
should be required.
The Greek proceeded onward through the lower parts of the town, eyeing
those he passed with a quick keen glance, which seemed to read their
very thoughts. People were too much accustomed to see the varied
costumes of the East to regard him with unusual curiosity, or to
incommode him in his progress by stopping to stare at him; at the same
time that many remarked him as he slowly sauntered on and wondered
whence he had come. He seemed to have nothing more to do than to amuse
himself by viewing the city, though he had certainly not selected the
most interesting or cleanest quarter. He apparently was a stranger to
the place, by the way in which he hesitated at each crossing, which
turning he should take, till he had carefully deciphered the name on the
wall. Now he stopped to look into a shop, then to gaze up at the
windows of a house as if he expected to see some one there, and then to
throw a copper to some importunate beggar. He walked with an air of so
much independence and nonchalance, indeed, at times, almost of
haughtiness, that it was difficult to suppose he had the slightest
apprehension of danger. Not a person, however, who, passed him, escaped
his scrutiny; and even when he appeared to stop carelessly, or for the
sake of considering the way he was to take, he cast a hurried glance
behind him to satisfy himself that no one was acting the spy on his
movements. He had evidently seen enough to convince him that the
vessel, in which he had come, was in bad odour, and he naturally
concluded that her passengers would be narrowly watched. Of the crowds
who passed, not a human being seemed to know him, and if he was in
reality particularly observed, it was done so cleverly and so
cautiously, that with all his ingenuity, he failed to discover whether
such was the case or not. He had already traversed a number of
streets--ascending several flights of steps and descending others--when,
at the corner of a narrow lane, his eye fell on a squalid-looking beggar
who was lustily calling on the passers-by, in the name of all the
saints, to preserve him from starvation. A broad-brimmed hat with a
crown similar to those worn by Italian bandits, but sadly battered and
brown with age and dirt, was worn slouchingly on his head, so as almost
to hide his features, which were further concealed by a handkerchief
tied under his chin, and a black patch over one of his eyes. A tattered
cloak, the cast-off finery of a dandy of the palmy days of the old
Knights of Malta, covered his shoulders, as did, in part, his legs, a
pair of blue cloth trousers, through which his knees obtruded, and which
were fringed with torn stripes at the feet. Such of his features as
were visible were as ill-favoured as well could be. His voice, too, had
a peculiarly disagreeable tone, as in the _lingua Franca_ of the Maltese
mendicants he begged for alms.
This interesting personage was supporting himself carelessly on a pair
of crutches, while he rested on one foot, and stretched forth the palm
of his right hand to grasp whatever might be put into it. The Greek
stopped and put his hand into his pocket to draw out a piece of money,
while he did so narrowly eyeing the beggar. The man's voice changed
instantly that he saw the stranger looking at him; from a half whining
yet impudent tone, it began to sink and tremble with alarm, and finally
he became perfectly mute and forgetful of his calling.
"I thought you would know me," said the Greek. "And you must remember I
never forget those I have once seen either as friends or foes."
"No, signor, I perceive you do not," replied the beggar, trembling with
alarm. "Have mercy on me."
"That depends upon yourself," said the stranger. "At present, you
deserve no mercy at my hands; but I will now give you an opportunity of
serving me; and if you do so faithfully, I will overlook the past."
"You are very generous, signor--you always were," exclaimed the beggar,
trying to fall down and embrace his knees, which the Greek prevented.
"I will go to any part of the world. I will go through fire and water
to serve you."
"You have not to go far to perform my directions; but I want
faithfulness in the discharge of the duty I shall impose on you," said
the Greek, sternly. "And, mark me, Giacomo--if you play me false, as
you have done others, I will find you out, and finish your worthless
life with as little compunction as I would that of a rabid dog."
"_Si, signor capitan_, I very well know that you are not a man to be
trifled with," answered the beggar, bowing his head.
"Tell me what you want, and by the Holy Virgin and all the saints in
heaven I will perform the work faithfully."
"Your oath is superfluous, as you would break it for a copper-piece, so
don't insult me with it," replied the Greek, scornfully. "But, listen:
there is a certain Jew--Aaron Bannech by name--his office--his den--the
place where he cheats, and robs, and lies, is beneath the Albergo--in
the Strada. Do you hear?"
"_Si, signor, si_,--I know the place--I know the man," said the beggar,
hastily.
"You know him; it is well that you should--you are an admirable pair.
He would sell his soul for a dollar, and would then try to cheat the
devil out of it. You are a meaner knave. Half that sum would buy you.
You both are useful to me, though. Hasten to him, and tell him that I
am here. Say that he must clear out his den of visitors, clerks, or
other prying knaves, and that I will be with him in half an hour. When
you have done this, go down to the port, and learn what vessels are
about to sail, shortly, for the eastward, with all particulars about
them--their cargoes--armed force--and number of men--also what ships are
expected to arrive shortly from the same quarter. Having gleaned this
information, which you well know how to do, come up with it to the
residence of the Jew. Listen, also, if anything is said about the
_Speronara Volante_, from Syracuse, by which I arrived. Alessandro is
her master--or, if any remarks are made respecting me. I am, probably,
unnoticed; but it is as well to be cautious."
"I will strictly obey your directions, signor," said the beggar. "Have
you further orders?"
"No--you may go. I have been talking to you too long already, and may
have been observed."
"Rest assured of my fidelity," said the beggar, hobbling off up the
street on his crutches, at a far more rapid rate than he was generally
wont to move.
No sooner, however, had he got out of sight of the Greek, than he
slackened his pace.
"Now, I wonder what I should get by denouncing him to the authorities,"
he muttered to himself. "They are stingy in rewarding informers though,
and he, probably, will pay better; besides, as he says, he may get me
hung by a word; and if I get him into trouble, some of his friends are
certain to avenge him. After all, too, he would probably make his story
good, and I should not be believed. You can never catch those Greeks
asleep; their wit is so keen, and they twist, and turn, and double in
such a manner, that if they get into a scrape, they are certain of
working their way out of it. No, it won't do. I must keep to my word,
and be honest with him. Curse him! Here am I a beggar on crutches, and
a far greater rogue lords it over me as if he were a prince."
So the beggar hobbled on towards the house of the Jew to fulfil his
mission. I am afraid that there are too many people in the world like
Giacomo, the Maltese beggar, who are honest as long only as it suits
their purpose.