IN THE STRADA REALE.
Tunisians, Maltese, English, Italians! Was there ever such a motley
crowd as that collected in the principal street of Valletta?
Bare-kneed Highlanders, in their picturesque tartans, elbowed
wide-trousered Mahomedans from Tunis and Fez; swarthy, black-eyed
Italians from Naples jostled against red-coated Tommy Atkins as he
swaggered along, and the ascetic face of a priest, looking severely
from under his long shovel hat, was seen close to the piquant
countenance of a Maltese damsel, blushing under her ugly, black silk
hood as she tripped gaily onward attended by her watchful duenna. Here
and there parties of tourists came laughing and joking along the
crowded pavement. English ladies, lithe and bright-looking in their
neat-fitting yachting costumes, accompanied by smart young gentlemen,
who had left their clubs and offices for a breath of the invigorating
Mediterranean air, and crowds of ragged beggars were shrieking for
money, and never satisfied with what they got. Such a mass of colour,
such a diversity of costumes, such a confusion of tongues, and over
all the clear blue sky, with the hot sun blazing down on the tall
white houses and steep narrow streets.
The "Neptune" cast anchor about two o'clock in the afternoon and,
according to the notice posted at the top of the saloon stairs, would
not leave till nine o'clock at night, so all the passengers--the men
in flannels and straw hats and the ladies in white dresses with
sunshades--went on shore to enjoy themselves. The great ship steamed
majestically into the still, blue waters of the Grand Harbour, and
cast anchor under the massive walls which rose in towering heights
from the precipitous rocks, and still bore on their weather-beaten
fronts, which had withstood so many rude assaults, the proud crests of
the famous Order of St. John of Jerusalem. On each side stood the
cities of Valletta and The Borgo with their square, flat-roofed houses
showing white and clear as they arose in serrated masses against the
vivid, blue sky, and all round the big steamer innumerable boats, with
canopies erected in the stern to keep off the sun, were darting about
impelled by screaming, vociferating boatmen who had more conversation
than clothes. Down the side of the ship the passengers went in a
never-ending stream, and as boat after boat was filled with a laughing
crowd and sheered off, there was soon quite a procession to the shore.
It appeared as if the ship would be quite empty, save for the crew;
but one, at least of the passengers, remained behind. This was Lionel
Ventin, who preferred a lazy day on board with a pipe and novel to the
discomfort of exploring the steep streets and picturesque buildings of
Valletta.
"I'm sick of Malta," he said, in reply to Ronald's persuasions; "I
know every hole and corner of that confounded Valletta, and agree with
Byron about it; besides," with a significant glance, "I might meet my
wife."
Against this last argument Ronald had nothing to urge, so went down to
join his party, which consisted of Mrs. Pellypop, tall and majestic,
in black silk, Kate Lester, and the irrepressible Pat Ryan. As they
moved off, Ventin, who was arrayed in a suit of spotless white, waved
his straw hat to them.
"How sulky that Mr. Ventin is," said Miss Lester, as they were pulled
rapidly towards the shore; "he never speaks to anyone.
"Shows his bad taste," replied Mr. Ryan, "considerin' the pretty girls
on board."
Mrs. Pellypop froze him.
"Your remark is flippant," she rejoined, putting up her glasses.
"It's true for all that," answered Pat bravely; "and ye'll see how
these foreign chaps will stare at ye to-day, mam."
No woman is too old for flattery, and though Mrs. Pellypop was
rigorously virtuous she was also a woman, so she received Pat's
compliment very graciously.
"I know all about Valletta," she began. "I----"
"The deuce ye do," murmured Pat, "ye must know some nice things
anyhow."
"And," continued she "will be your guide."
The other three looked at one another in dismay, and, with a strong
effort, Pat gasped out a word of thanks.
"I say," whispered Ronald to Miss Lester, "she'll be as bad as
Murray's guide book."
"Yes but not so accurate!"
"Never mind," said Pat, in a low tone, answering the last remark;
"she'll make up for her mistakes by her obstinacy in stickin' to 'em;
and perhaps," consolingly, "if we've luck we'll lose her."
They arrived on the rocky shore of Mount Sceberras, whereon Valletta
stands, and admired the massive walls and the broad gateway, at which
several red-coated sentries were keeping guard. Numerous guides
offered their services but Mrs. Pellypop, in the purest of English--of
which they did not understand one word, though her gestures were
eloquent enough--sent them all away, and marched into Valletta, at the
head of her party of three, like a victorious general into a conquered
city. Then they began to climb the steep street leading to the Strada
Reale, and under a burning sun the exercise was not pleasant. Oh!
those interminable steps, how many oaths have they not been answerable
for since Lord Byron abused them so heartily! Both Pat and Ronald
cursed under their breaths, and if Miss Lester had not been very
strictly brought up she also might have been tempted to use a word
beginning with "D." Mrs. Pellypop, however, clad in her black
silk--which must have been awfully hot, but extorted no remark from
that excellent woman--toiled steadily upward, and not a word did this
indomitable female say, though, like the celebrated parrot, she no
doubt thought a lot.
"Capital exercise isn't it," observed Miss Lester as they paused for
breath.
"I dare say, if we were training for a circus," retorted Pat dryly,
taking off his straw hat. "I'm like Arethusa, and will melt into a
stream of water if this goes on. I believe old Pellypop will swear
shortly."
Kate laughed and looked at Mrs. Pellypop who, unassisted, was climbing
slowly up the endless stairs.
"I don't think you gentlemen are very gallant," observed Kate,
demurely glancing at Pat and Ronald walking on either side of her, "or
you'd offer to help the old lady."
"We prefer to help the young lady," they cried in chorus, and Miss
Lester blushed, not ill-pleased at this tribute to her charms.
On reaching the Strada Reale they found the place already crowded with
their fellow-passengers, and after a few recognitions and salutations,
Mrs. Pellypop's party went into one of the shops, where the ladies
bought lace and the young men cigarettes. Ronald also purchased some
lace handkerchiefs in order to pay off certain debts incurred by
playing phillipine after dinner with sundry ladies on board, and,
judging from the cost of his forfeits, he must have found the game
somewhat expensive.
The next thing to be done was to see the celebrated Church of St.
John, the glory of Valletta, so thither they went, and beheld a
depressing-looking building not by any means remarkable for
architectural beauty. But they were amply repaid for their
disappointment by the magnificent sight which met their eyes on
stepping out of the hot sunlight into the semi-gloom of the great
building.
The arched roof covered with paintings of scenes from the life of St.
John the Baptist, the exquisite tapestries hanging low down on either
side, the vividly tesselated pavement under which so many valiant
knights lay buried, and, to crown all, the wonderful appearance of the
grand altar, glittering with gold--all this made up a marvellous
picture, which for brilliancy of colour and harmony of effect, has not
its equal in the world.
After admiring the splendour of the central nave for some time, they
went into all the side chapels--each of which was dedicated to a
special language--and saw the tombs of dead and gone Grand Masters,
and also the famous silver gates, one of the few things on the island
that Napoleon did not carry away.
"Fancy how grand and inspiring it must have been," observed Mrs.
Pellypop seizing the occasion to moralize, as befitted the
mother-in-law of a Bishop. "When this place was thronged by noble
knights, all in the different dresses of their orders, when----"
"Yes, rather jolly being a knight," interrupted Ronald, "shouldn't
mind it myself."
"I should," said Pat, flippantly; "they weren't allowed to marry, and
what is home without a mother?"
Miss Lester laughed, but Mrs. Pellypop was so disgusted by the giddy
way in which the young man spoke, that she hastily left the church,
having first reflected however, that there was nothing more to be
seen.
"That young man would joke at his father's funeral," she said to Kate
when they were once more in the hot sunshine.
"Well there's nothing like making the best of things," retorted Pat,
who was just behind and overheard the remark.
"But really the church was grand," cried Ronald quickly in order to
prevent a storm.
"Lots of show and very little religion I fancy," said the
irrepressible Pat.
"I don't agree with you Mr. Ryan," observed Mrs. Pellypop, severely;
"the solemn grandeur of that church would have an effect even on the
most frivolous mind," with a significant glance at the Irishman.
"I daresay the effect wouldn't endure long," said Ronald, lightly.
"Religion, which appeals purely to the senses, is never so strong as
that which comes straight to the mind."
"Of course not," replied Pat who knew nothing about what he was
talking, and only spoke to irritate the old lady, "I'd back
Presbyterianism against Catholicism any day for fanaticism: it's a
fight between Calvin and Peter--two to one on the winner."
Mrs. Pellypop made no reply, being struck with horror at the light way
in which the young man treated religion, and walked hastily away with
Miss Lester so as to close the discussion.
"Hang it Pat!" said Ronald, as they walked slowly behind, "why can't
you leave the old girl alone?"
"Because she won't leave us alone," retorted Pat. "Why the deuce
should she come with us to spoil sport?"
"Two young men and only one girl isn't sport!"
"Oh begad! we'd have tossed for her, and the loser could have made
himself scarce."
They then went to the Capuchin Convent and saw the dried monks,
looking grim and ghastly enough in the dim light of candles carried by
their living brethren. Pat's comment on their appearance was original.
"They look like Bombay duck," he said, alluding to the dried fish
usually eaten with curry. "I don't think I'll touch any more of it."
Kate Lester laughed.
"You are amusing, but irreligious," she said, turning away.
"Irreligious, certainly," observed Virtue, in the person of Mrs.
Pellypop; "but amusing, no."
"I don't think the old thing's got much sense of humour," whispered
Pat to Ronald as they went up again into the light of day.
"Well, if no one else laughs at your jokes, Pat, you always do
yourself," retorted the Australian consolingly. "But come along, we'll
go to the Barraca and see the view."
They strolled slowly along, inhaling the fresh air, and going through
the ruined Barraca, which was unroofed by one of the Grand Masters,
they stepped out on to the terrace, and saw that wonderful panorama,
which is one of the finest things in Valletta. A magnificent view of
the open sea, the blue waters of the Quarantine Harbour, while
immediately below are the Sultan's garden, the huge walls of Fort
Lascaris, and the Fish Market. Away in the distance can be seen Fort
Sant Elmo protecting the entrance to the port, Fort St. Angelo, which
is one of the oldest in Malta, and the angular lines of fortification
standing sharp and clear against the vividly blue sky. It was a
gorgeous panorama, and even Mrs. Pellypop was impressed.
"This place is impregnable," she said, surveying it through her
glasses.
"I don't think so," said Pat, in a contradictory tone; "a few of our
new guns would knock it to pieces in no time."
Mrs. Pellypop deigned no reply to this flippant remark, but walked off
indignantly, wishing that the fate he intended for Valletta would
befall this intrusive young man.
Suddenly Ronald uttered an exclamation:--
"By Jove! what pretty girls!"
Valletta, its traditions, its views, its pleasures, all vanished to
nothing as he saw before him feminine beauty. Mrs. Pellypop was
disgusted, as she considered no man had a right to admire a woman when
another was beside him. This however was merely the Pellypop code,
and not generally adopted.
But the two ladies who had caused Ronald's exclamation fully justified
his remark. One was tall and slender, with a dark, oval face, and
coils of jet-black hair wreathed round her small head. Wonderfully
dark eyes which had a sleepy look, a straight, delicately chiselled
nose, and a full red mouth. She was dressed in a loose, white gown,
with a crimson sash round her waist, and instead of the ugly hoods
generally worn by the Maltese ladies, had a saucy sailor hat on her
head, long Suède gloves, and a tall pompadour umbrella of red silk,
completed her costume.
The other was somewhat similar in appearance, but evidently older, and
had rather a repelling expression of countenance. She was dressed in
black, and did not show to such advantage as her companion, so, after
a careless glance at her, Ronald--who, like all fair men, admired dark
women--turned his attention to the younger of the two. They appeared
to have been quarrelling, and the younger girl was walking quickly a
little in advance of her friend with an indignant expression on her
face, while the other followed more slowly with a frown on her
strongly marked features. When they disappeared, Ronald turned to his
companion with a sigh.
"Yes awfully pretty."
"I confess," observed Mrs. Pellypop, slowly, "I do not think so."
Ronald was discreet, and surrendered.
"I dare say not," he observed hastily, "but you see one is so often
deceived by a passing glance."
They wandered all over the city--went to the market and bought fruit,
and were warned against eating it by an officious Maltese--saw the
Armoury in the Grand Master's Palace--strolled round St. George's
Square, and viewed with patriotic pride the flattering inscription to
British Power over the Main Guard-House--sat in the carriage of the
last Grand Master, and then went and had a light afternoon meal at a
well-known hotel. It was now getting late, so, with a farewell glance
at the Strada Reale and its queer crowd, they went down to the
water-gate, where they found their boat waiting. A crowd of passengers
was there, full of excitement about bargains made and experiences
gained, and some guilelessly thought they had got the better of the
Maltese shopmen, a thing quite impossible in this enlightened age.
They rowed to the steamer through the dark waters, with the lights of
the city gleaming like stars in the distance, and the tall forms of
ships looming like phantoms in the gloom. At last, after an
adventurous journey, they arrived on board, and the first thing Ronald
saw was Ventin leaning over the bulwarks watching fresh arrivals. As
soon as Mrs. Pellypop and Kate, escorted by Pat, had gone below,
Ronald went to Ventin.
"Have you been on board all day?" he asked.
Ventin shook his head.
"No; I changed my mind and went on shore shortly after you left."
"Did you see her?"
"I did."
"The devil--did she see you?"
"I think so."
"Oh, so she didn't speak to you?"
"No! I was afraid of a scene, and came back to the ship at once."
"Well, she won't come on board now," said Ronald, consolingly; "so
you'll be all right."
Ventin sighed.
"Nothing is so certain as the unforeseen," he replied, mournfully.