OBED ON THE RAMPAGE.
A long illness was the immediate result of so much excitement,
suffering, and grief. Gradually, however, Zillah struggled through
it; and at last, under the genial sky of Southern Italy, she began to
regain her usual health. The kindness of her friends was unfaltering
and incessant. Through this she was saved, and it was Obed's sister
who brought her back from the clutches of fever and the jaws of
death. She had as tender a heart as her brother, and had come to love
as a sister or a daughter this poor, friendless, childlike girl, who
had been thrown upon their hands in so extraordinary a manner.
Brought up in that puritanical school which is perpetually on the
look-out for "special providences," she regarded Zillah's arrival
among them as the most marked special providence which she had ever
known, and never ceased to affirm that something wonderful was
destined to come of all this. Around this faithful, noble-hearted,
puritanical dame, Zillah's affections twined themselves with
something like filial tenderness, and she learned in the course of
her illness to love that simple, straightforward, but high-souled
woman, whose love she had already won. Hitherto she had associated
the practice of chivalrous principles and the grand code of honor
exclusively with lofty gentlemen like the Earl and her father, or
with titled dames; now, however, she learned that here, in Obed
Chute, there was as fine an instinct of honor, as delicate a
sentiment of loyalty to friendship, as refined a spirit of
knight-errantry, as strong a zeal to succor the weak and to become
the champion of the oppressed, and as profound a loathing for all
that is base and mean, as in either of those grand old gentlemen by
whom her character had been moulded. Had Obed Chute been born an
English lord his manners might have had a finer polish, but no
training known among the sons of men could have given him a truer
appreciation of all that is noble and honorable and chivalrous. This
man, whose life had been passed in what Zillah considered as "vulgar
trade," seemed to her to have a nature as pure and as elevated as
that of the Chevalier Bayard, that hero _sans peur et sans reproche_.
Obed, as has already been seen, had a weakness for Neapolitan life,
and felt in his inmost soul that strange fascination which this city
possesses. He had traversed every nook and corner of Naples, and had
visited, with a strange mixture of enthusiasm and practical
observation, all its environs. In the course of his wanderings he had
fallen in with a party of his countrymen, all of whom were kindred
spirits, and who hailed his advent among them with universal
appreciation. Without in any way neglecting Zillah, he joined himself
to these new friends, and accompanied them in many an excursion into
the country about Naples--to Capua, to Cumae, to Paestum, and to many
other places. To some of these places it was dangerous to go in these
unsettled times; but this party laughed at dangers. They had acquired
a good-natured contempt for Italians and Italian courage; and as each
man, in spite of the Neapolitan laws, carried his revolver, they were
accustomed to venture any where with the most careless ease, and the
most profound indifference to any possible danger. In fact, any
approach to danger they would have hailed with joy, and to their
adventurous temper the appearance of a gang of bandits would have
been the greatest blessing which this land could afford.
The whole country was in a most disturbed condition. The Lombard war
had diffused a deep excitement among all classes. Every day new
rumors arose, and throughout the Neapolitan dominions the population
were filled with strange vague desires. The government itself was
demoralized--one day exerting its utmost power in the most repressive
measures, and on the next recalling its own acts, and retreating in
fear from the position which it had taken up. The troops were as
agitated as the people. It was felt that in case of an attempt at
revolution they could not be relied upon. In the midst of all other
fears one was predominant, and was all comprised in one magic
word--the name of that one man who alone, in our age, has shown
himself able to draw nations after him, and by the spell of his
presence to paralyze the efforts of kings. That one word was
"Garibaldi."
What he was, or what he was to do, were things which were but little
known to these ignorant Neapolitans. They simply accepted the name as
the symbol of some great change by which all were to be benefited. He
was, in their thoughts, half hero, half Messiah, before whom all
opposing armies should melt away, and by whom all wrongs should be
redressed. Through the heart of this agitated mass there penetrated
the innumerable ramifications of secret societies, whose agents
guided, directed, and intensified the prevalent excitement. These
were the men who originated those daily rumors which threw both
government and people into a fever of agitation; who taught new hopes
and new desires to the most degraded population of Christendom, and
inspired even the lazaroni with wild ideas of human rights--of
liberty, fraternity, and equality. These agents had a far-reaching
purpose, and to accomplish this they worked steadily, in all parts
and among all classes, until at last the whole state was ripe for
some vast revolution. Such was the condition of the people among whom
Obed and his friends pursued their pleasures.
The party with which Obed had connected himself was a varied one.
There were two officers from those "Yankee frigates" which he had
hurled in the teeth of the police agent at the Hotel de l'Europe; two
young fellows fresh from Harvard, and on their way to Heidelberg, who
had come direct from New York to Naples, and were in no hurry to
leave; a Southerner, fresh from a South Carolina plantation, making
his first tour in Europe; a Cincinnati lawyer; and a Boston clergyman
traveling for his health, to recruit which he had been sent away by
his loving congregation. With all these Obed at once fraternized, and
soon became the acknowledged leader, though, as he could not speak
Italian, he was compelled to delegate all quarrels with the natives
to the two Heidelbergians, who had studied Italian on their way out,
and had aired it very extensively since their arrival.
Having exhausted the land excursions, the party obtained a yacht, in
which they intended to make the circuit of the bay. On their first
voyage they went around its whole extent, and then, rounding the
island of Capri, they sailed along the coast to the southeast without
any very definite purpose.
The party presented a singular appearance. All were dressed in the
most careless manner, consulting convenience without any regard to
fashion. The Heidelbergians had made their appearance in red flannel
shirts and broad-brimmed felt hats, which excited such admiration
that the others at once determined to equal them. Obed, the officers,
and the South Carolinian went off, and soon returned with red flannel
shirts and wide-awake hats of their own, for which they soon
exchanged their more correct costume. The lawyer and the clergyman
compromised the matter by donning reefing jackets; and thus the whole
party finally set out, and in this attire they made their cruise,
with many loud laughs at the strange transformation which a change of
dress had made in each other's appearance.
In this way they made the circuit of the bay, and proceeded along the
coast until they came opposite to Salerno. It was already four
o'clock, and as they could not get back to Naples that day they
decided to land at this historic town, with the hope that they might
be rewarded by some adventure. The yacht, therefore, was headed
toward the town, and flew rapidly over the waves to her destination.
On rounding a headland which lay between them and the town their
progress was slow. As they moved toward the harbor they sat lazily
watching the white houses as they stretched along the winding beach,
and the Boston clergyman, who seemed to be well up in his medieval
history, gave them an account of the former glories of this place,
when its university was the chief medical school of Europe, and
Arabian and Jewish professors taught to Christian students the
mysteries of science. With their attention thus divided between the
learned dissertation of the clergyman and the charms of the town,
they approached their destination.
It was not until they had come quite near that they noticed an
unusual crowd along the shore. When they did notice it they at first
supposed that it might be one of those innumerable saints' days which
are so common in Italy. Now, as they drew nearer, they noticed that
the attention of the crowd was turned to themselves. This excited
their wonder at first, but after a time they thought that in so dull
a place as Salerno the arrival of a yacht was sufficient to excite
curiosity, and with this idea many jokes were bandied about. At
length they approached the principal wharf of the place, and directed
the yacht toward it. As they did so they noticed a universal movement
on the part of the crowd, who made a rush toward the wharf, and in a
short time filled it completely. Not even the most extravagant ideas
of Italian laziness and curiosity could account for this intense
interest in the movements of an ordinary yacht; and so our Americans
soon found themselves lost in an abyss of wonder.
Why should they be so stared at? Why should the whole population of
Salerno thus turn out, and make a wild rush to the wharf at which
they were to land? It was strange; it was inexplicable; it was also
embarrassing. Not even the strongest curiosity could account for such
excitement as this.
"What 'n thunder does it all mean?" said Obed, after a long silence.
"There's something up," said the Cincinnati lawyer, sententiously.
"Perhaps it is a repetition of the landing at Naples on a grander
scale," said the clergyman. "I remember when I landed there at least
fifty lazaroni followed me to carry my carpet-bag."
"Fifty?" cried one of the Heidelbergians. "Why, there are five
hundred after us!"
"But these are not lazaroni," said Obed. "Look at that crowd! Did you
ever see a more respectable one?"
In truth, the crowd was in the highest degree respectable. There were
some workmen, and some lazaroni. But the greater number consisted of
well-dressed people, among whom were intermingled priests and
soldiers, and even women. All these, whatever their rank, bore in
their faces an expression of the intensest curiosity and interest.
The expression was unmistakable, and as the yacht came nearer, those
on board were able to see that they were the objects of no common
attention. If they had doubted this, this doubt was soon dispelled;
for as the yacht grazed the wharf a movement took place among the
crowd, and a confused cry of applause arose.
For such a welcome as this the yachting party were certainly not
prepared. All looked up in amazement, with the exception of Obed. He
alone was found equal to the occasion. Without stopping to consider
what the cause of such a reception might be, he was simply conscious
of an act of public good-will, and prepared to respond in a fitting
manner. He was standing on the prow at the time, and drawing his tall
form to its full height, he regarded the crowd for a moment with a
benignant smile; after which he removed his hat and bowed with great
_empressement_.
At this there arose another shout of applause from the whole crowd,
which completed the amazement of the tourists. Meanwhile the yacht
swung up close to the wharf, and as there was nothing else to be done
they prepared to land, leaving her in charge of her crew, which
consisted of several sailors from one of the American frigates. The
blue shirts of these fellows formed a pleasing contrast to the red
shirts and reefing jackets of the others, and the crowd on the wharf
seemed to feel an indiscriminate admiration for he crew as well as
for the masters. Such attentions were certainly somewhat
embarrassing, and presented to these adventurous spirits a novel kind
of difficulty; but whether novel or not, there was now no honorable
escape from it, and they had to encounter it boldly by plunging into
the midst of the crowd. So they landed--eight as singular figures as
ever disturbed the repose of this peaceful town of Salerno. Obed
headed the procession, dressed in a red shirt with black trowsers,
and a scarf tied round his waist, while a broad-brimmed felt hat
shaded his expansive forehead. His tall form, his broad shoulders,
his sinewy frame, made him by far the most conspicuous member of this
company, and attracted to him the chief admiration of the spectators.
Low, murmured words arose as he passed amidst them, expressive of the
profound impression which had been produced by the sight of his
magnificent physique. After him came the others in Indian file; for
the crowd was dense, and only parted sufficiently to allow of the
progress of one man at a time. The Southerner came next to Obed, then
the Heidelbergians, then the naval officers, while the clergyman and
the Cincinnati lawyer, in their picturesque pea-jackets, brought up
the rear. Even in a wide-awake American town such a company would
have attracted attention; how much more so in this sleepy, secluded,
quiet, Italian town! especially at such a time, when all men every
where were on the look-out for great enterprises.
Obed marched on with his friends till they left the wharf and were
able to walk on together more closely. The crowd followed. The
Americans took the middle of the street, and walked up into the town
through what seemed the principal thoroughfare. The crowd pressed
after them, showing no decrease whatever in their ardent curiosity,
yet without making any noisy demonstrations. They seemed like men who
were possessed by some conviction as to the character of these
strangers, and were in full sympathy with them, but were waiting to
see what they might _do_. The Americans, on their side, were more and
more surprised at every step, and could not imagine any cause
whatever for so very singular a reception. They did not even know
whether to view it as a hostile demonstration, or as a sort of
triumphant reception. They could not imagine what they had done which
might merit either the one or the other. All that was left for them
to do, therefore, they did; and that means, they accepted the
situation, and walked along intent only upon the most prosaic of
purposes--the discovery of a hotel. At length, after a few minutes'
walk, they found the object of their search in a large stucco edifice
which bore the proud title of "Hôtel de l'Univers" in French. Into
this they turned, seeking refuge and refreshment. The crowd without
respected their seclusion. They did not pour into the hotel and fill
it to overflowing from top to bottom, but simply stood outside, in
front, in a densely packed mass, from which arose constantly the deep
hum of earnest, animated, and eager conversation.
On entering they were accosted by the landlord, who received them
with the utmost obsequiousness, and a devotion which was absolute. He
informed them that the whole hotel was at their disposal, and wished
to know at what time their excellencies would be pleased to dine.
Their excellencies informed him, through the medium of the
Heidelbergians, that they would be pleased to dine as soon as
possible; whereupon the landlord led them to a large upper room and
bowed himself out.
Their room looked out upon the street. There was a balcony in front
of the windows; and, as they sat there waiting, they could see the
dense crowd as it stood in front of the hotel--quiet, orderly,
waiting patiently; yet waiting for what? That was the problem. It was
so knotty a problem that it engaged all their thoughts and
discussions while they were waiting for dinner, and while they were
eating their dinner. At last that solemn meal was over, and they
arose refreshed; but the peaceful satisfaction that generally ensues
after such an important meal was now very seriously disturbed, in
their case, by the singular nature of their situation. There was the
crowd outside still, though it was already dusk.
"I think," said Obed, "that I'll step out and see what is going on.
I'll just look around, you know."
Saying this, Obed passed through the open window, and went out on the
balcony. His appearance was the cause of an immense sensation. For a
moment the crowd was hushed, and a thousand eyes were fixed in awe
and admiration upon his colossal form. Then the silence was suddenly
broken by loud, long, and wild acclamations, "_Viva la Liberia_!"
"_Viva la Republica_!" "_Viva l'Italia_!" "_Viva Vittore Emmanuele_!"
"_Viva Garibaldi_!"
This last word was caught up with a kind of mad enthusiasm, and
passed from mouth to mouth till it drowned all other cries.
"What'n thunder's all this?" cried Obed, putting his head into the
room, and looking at the Heidelbergians. "See here--come out here,"
he continued, "and find out what in the name of goodness it all
means, for I'll be durned if I can make head or tail of it."
At this appeal the Heidelbergians stepped out, and after them came
the naval officers, while the rest followed, till the whole eight
stood on the balcony.
Their appearance was greeted with a thunder of applause.
Obed knew not what it all meant, nor did any of the others; but as he
was the acknowledged leader he felt upon him the responsibility of
his situation, and so, with this feeling animating him, he responded
to the salutation of the crowd by a low bow.
It was now dusk, and the twilight of this southern climate was
rapidly deepening, when suddenly the Americans were aware of a sound
in the distance like the galloping of horses. The sound seemed to
strike the crowd below at the same moment. Cries arose, and they fell
back quickly on either side of the road, leaving a broad path in
their midst. The Americans did not have a long time left to them for
conjecture or for wonder. The sounds drew nearer and nearer, until at
last, through the gloom, a body of dragoons were plainly seen
galloping down the street. They dashed through the crowd, they reined
in their horses in front of the hotel, and, a the sharp word of
command from their leader, a number of them dismounted, and followed
him inside, while the rest remained without.
The crowd stood breathless and mute. The Americans saw in this a very
singular variation to the events of the evening, and, as they could
no more account for this than for those which had preceded it, they
waited to see the end.
They did not have to wait long.
A noise in the room which they had left roused them. Looking in they
saw about a dozen dragoons with the captain and the landlord. The
dragoons had arranged themselves in line at the word of command, and
the landlord stood with a terror-stricken face beside the captain.
"Ah!" said Obed, who had looked through the window into the room,
"this looks serious. There's some absurd mistake somewhere, but just
now it does seem as though they want us, so I move that we go in and
show ourselves."
Saying this he entered the room, followed by the others, and the
eight Americans ranged themselves quietly opposite the dragoons. The
sight of these red-shirted strangers produced a very peculiar effect
on the soldiers, as was evident by their faces and their looks; and
the captain, as he regarded the formidable proportions of Obed,
seemed somewhat overawed. But he soon overcame his emotion, and,
stepping forward, he exclaimed:
"Siete nostri prigionieri. Rendetevi."
"What's that he says?" asked Obed.
"He says we're his prisoners," said one of the Heidelbergians, "and
calls on us to surrender."
"Tell him," said Obed, unconsciously parodying Leonidas--"Tell him to
come on and take us."
The Heidelbergian translated this verbatim.
The captain looked puzzled.
"Boys," said Obed, "you may as well get your revolvers ready."
At this quiet hint every one of the Americans, including even the
Boston clergyman, drew forth his revolver, holding it carelessly, yet
in such a very handy fashion that the captain of the dragoons looked
aghast.
"I will have no resistance," said he. "Surrender, or you will be shot
down."
"Ha, ha!" said the Heidelbergian. "Do you see our revolvers? Do you
think that we are the men to surrender?"
"I have fifty dragoons outside," said the officer.
"Very well, we have forty-eight shots to your fifty," said the
Heidelbergian, whose Italian, on this occasion, "came out uncommonly
strong," as Obed afterward said when the conversation was narrated to
him.
"I am commanded to arrest you," said the officer.
"Well, go back and say that you tried, and couldn't do it," said the
Heidelbergian.
"Your blood will be on your own heads."
"Pardon me; some of it will be on yours, and some of your own blood
also," retorted the Heidelbergian, mildly.
"Advance!" cried the officer to his soldiers. "Arrest these men."
The soldiers looked at their captain, then at the Americans, then at
their captain again, then at the Americans, and the end of it was
that they did not move.
"Arrest them!" roared the officer.
The Americans stood opposite with their revolvers leveled. The
soldiers stood still. They would not obey.
"My friend," said the Heidelbergian, "if your men advance, you
yourself will be the first to fall, for I happen to have you covered
by my pistol. I may as well tell you that it has six shots, and if
the first fails, the second will not."
The officer turned pale. He ordered his men to remain, and went out.
After a few moments he returned with twelve more dragoons. The
Americans still stood watchful, with their revolvers ready, taking
aim.
"You see," cried the officer, excitedly, "that you are overpowered.
There are as many men outside. For the last time I call on you to
surrender. If you do not I will give no quarter. You need not try to
resist."
"What is it that he says?" asked Obed.
The Heidelbergian told him.
Obed laughed.
"Ask him why he does not come and take us," said he, grimly. "We have
already given him leave to do so."
The Heidelbergian repeated these words.
The captain, in a fury, ordered his men to advance.
The Americans fully expected an attack, and stood ready to pour in a
volley at the first movement on the part of the enemy. But the enemy
did not move. The soldiers stood motionless. They did not seem
afraid. They seemed rather as if they were animated by some totally
different feeling. It had been whispered already that the Neapolitan
army was unreliable. This certainly looked like it.
"Cowards!" cried the captain, who seemed to think that their inaction
arose from fear. "You will suffer for this, you scoundrels! Then, if
you are afraid to advance, make ready! present! fire!"
His command might as well have been addressed to the winds. The guns
of the soldiers stood by their sides. Not one of them raised his
piece. The captain was thunder-struck; yet his surprise was not
greater than that of the Americans when this was hastily explained to
them by the Heidelbergians. Evidently there was disaffection among
the soldiers of his Majesty of Naples when brought into the presence
of _Red Shirts_.
The captain was so overwhelmed by this discovery that he stood like
one paralyzed, not knowing what to do. This passive disobedience on
the part of his men was a thing so unexpected that he was left
helpless, without resources.
Meanwhile the crowd outside had been intensely excited. They had
witnessed the arrival of the dragoons. They had seen them dismount
and enter the hotel after the captain. They had seen the captain come
down after another detachment. They had known nothing of what was
going on inside, but conjectured that a desperate struggle was
inevitable between the Red Shirts and the dragoons. As an unarmed
crowd they could offer no active intervention, so they held their
peace for a time, waiting in breathless suspense for the result. The
result seemed long delayed. The troopers did not seem to gain that
immediate victory over the Red Shirts which had been fearfully
anticipated. Every moment seemed to postpone such a victory, and
render it impossible. Every moment restored the courage of the crowd,
which at first had been panic-stricken. Low murmurs passed among
them, which deepened into words of remonstrance, and strengthened
into cries of sympathy for the Red Shirts; until, at last, these
cries arose to shouts, and the shouts arose wild and high,
penetrating to that upper room where the assailants confronted their
cool antagonists. The cries had an ominous sound.
"_Viva la Liberia_!" "_Viva la Republica_!" "_Viva Garibaldi_!" At
the name _Garibaldi_, a wild yell of applause resounded wide and
high--a long, shrill yell, and the name was taken up in a kind of mad
fervor till the shout rose to a frenzy, and nothing was heard but the
confused outcries of a thousand discordant voices, all uttering that
one grand name, "_Garibaldi_!" "_Garibaldi_!" "_Garibaldi_!"
The Americans heard it. What connection there was between themselves
and Garibaldi they did not then see, but they saw that somehow the
people of Salerno had associated them with the hero of Italy, and
were sympathizing with them. Obed Chute himself saw this, and
understood this, as that cry came thundering to his ears. He turned
to his friends.
"Boys," said he, "we came here for a dinner and a night's rest. We've
got the dinner, but the night's rest seems to be a little remote.
There's such an infernal row going on all around that, if we want to
sleep this blessed night, we'll have to take to the yacht again, and
turn in there, sailor fashion. So I move that we adjourn to that
place, and put out to sea."
His proposal was at once accepted without hesitation.
"Very well," said Obed. "Now follow me. March!"
With his revolver in his extended hand, Obed strode toward the door,
followed by the others. The dragoons drew back and allowed them to
pass out without resistance. They descended the stairs into the hall.
As they appeared at the doorway they were recognized by the crowd,
and a wild shout of triumph arose, in which nothing was conspicuous
but the name of Garibaldi. The mounted dragoons outside did not
attempt to resist them. They looked away, and did not seem to see
them at all. The crowd had it all their own way.
Through the crowd Obed advanced, followed by his friends, and led the
way toward the yacht. The crowd followed. They cheered; they shouted;
they yelled out defiance at the king; they threw aside all restraint,
and sang the Italian version of the "Marseillaise." A wild enthusiasm
pervaded all, as though some great victory had been won, or some
signal triumph achieved. But amidst all their shouts and cries and
applause and songs one word was pre-eminent, and that one word was
the name of "_Garibaldi_!"
But the Americans made no response. They marched on quietly to their
yacht, and pushed off from the wharf. A loud, long cheer followed
them from the crowd, which stood there watching their departure; and,
as the yacht moved away, cheer after cheer arose, which gradually
died away in the distance.
They passed that night on the sea instead of at the hotel at Salerno.
But they did not have much sleep. Their wonderful adventure formed
the theme of discussion all night long. And at last the only
conclusion which they could come to was this, that the red-shirted
strangers had been mistaken for Garibaldini; that Obed Chute had been
accepted as Garibaldi himself; and, finally, that the subjects of the
king of Naples, and his soldiers also, were in a fearful state of
disaffection.
Not long after, when Garibaldi himself passed through this very town,
the result confirmed the conjectures of these Americans.