TOUGH YARNS;
A SERIES
OF
NAVAL TALES AND SKETCHES
TO PLEASE ALL HANDS,
From the Swabs on the Shoulders down to the Swabs in the Head.
_BY THE OLD SAILOR_,
AUTHOR OF “GREENWICH HOSPITAL,” ETC.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
_PHILADELPHIA_:
E. L. CAREY & A. HART.
_BALTIMORE_:
CAREY, HART & Co.
_BOSTON_:
WILLIAM D. TICKNOR.
1835.
E. G. DORSEY, PRINTER,
_12 Library Street_.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
PAGE
_Ghost Stories_, 5
_Frere du Diable_, 23
_The Fisherman’s Family_, 41
_The Red Flag at the Fore_, 62
_The Prisoner_, 85
_The Convict_, 113
_The Burning Ship_, 136
_Veteran Soldier_, 163
Advertisements 185
TOUGH YARNS.
GHOST STORIES.
“_Glendower._--I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
_Hotspur._--Why, so can I; or so can any man:
But will they come when you do call for them?”
_King Henry IV._
I wish my young readers had been acquainted with my worthy and
excellent father, for he cared not a snap of the finger for ghosts
and hobgoblins, and he would actually walk through a churchyard at
midnight without feeling the smallest particle of fear. Now, it may be
supposed that his children (of whom I was the third) were naturally as
courageous as their father; but from certain circumstances this was not
the case. For whilst my worthy sire would have bidden defiance to a
whole army of apparitions, myself and my brothers (there were five of
us) would tremble at every noise after dusk, and when we were in bed,
bury our faces in the blankets, lest something alarming should appear:
nay more, not one of us would remain a moment in the dark without
screaming, even if persons were in the same room; or be left alone in
any place, though it was broad daylight and the sun shining in all his
splendour.
I have said that my father was courageous; but then what ghost would
have dared to attack him, or ventured to appear in his presence? He
had fought many battles; he had braved the wind, and the storm, and
the howling tempest: he had undauntedly looked death in the face, and
the unrelenting tyrant had plundered him on every possible occasion,
in his violent efforts to carry him off altogether. Thus the brave
man had at different times lost an eye, and an arm, the calf of his
right leg, and sundry slicings and cuttings from various parts of his
really handsome person; so that a thought of frightening him never
could have entered the mind of any supernatural being,--at least,
of any rational one. This was the opinion of us boys respecting our
father; but as to ourselves, it was quite another thing. We were
children, and ghosts might rub their cold noses against our faces in
the night, or start up out of the ground to terrify us during the day
with impunity; for that there were such things as ghosts it would
have been impossible to entertain a moment’s doubt, having, as we
certainly had, the undisputed authority of Susan the housemaid, backed
by the matter-of-fact accounts of Jane the cook, and the whole fully
authenticated by old nurse, who declared that she had actually seen
a spirit; but I suspect it was at a time when _spirits_ were pretty
plentiful with her.
My parents were much out in company, and then the evenings were
employed in telling the most horrible tales of murders, of sudden
deaths, and of those who shortened their brief span of life on account
of disappointments in love. Oh! how often has a cold sick shuddering
come upon my young heart at pictures of the diabolical cruelty of human
nature, when “man became a wolf to man!” and how has terror shaken
every joint in my childish frame to hear of the restless spirit. Of
the murdered, clothed in corporeal semblance, escaping from its cold
prison-house to haunt the guilty slayer! How frequently have the tears
trickled down my pale face at the hapless adventures of blighted
affection; and many a time did my infantile imagination follow the
retributive form that constantly haunted the wretch who had broken the
vow of fidelity and truth! Nor was there wanting a good sprinkling
of _accurate_ stories about highwaymen and housebreakers, gentlemen
thieves for whom young maids wept when they considered them deserving a
better fate.
The house we lived in was a very ancient but strong building, and
exactly the sort of place to excite superstitious feelings--in fact,
a sort of ghostery. There were some strange tales told about it; and
the unaccountable noises in the chimneys which frightened the birds
that built their nests there, and the hollow murmuring sounds that
proceeded, particularly in windy weather, from behind the old oak
panels of the rooms, all conspired to do that which my parents had but
little idea of,--namely, to unnerve the system and weaken the intellect.
Still I was no coward, for I would always defend myself against any boy
of my size, and was ready to undertake the usual hazardous enterprises
of children; but a subtle poison was working within, which bade fair to
render the mind imbecile, and to undermine the constitution. My parents
became sensible of our altered condition, and when it was almost
beyond redemption, were made acquainted with the cause. My father, in
his usual blunt manner, made use of a strong argument against ghosts.
“Boys,” said he, “you are a pack of fools: remember this, that those
who are gone to Heaven, are too happy to quit it; and those who are
gone to a place of torment, the devil won’t part with even for a
moment.” Of course a change took place among the servants, who were
blamed for instilling pernicious principles into our minds, but which
they could not have done had my parents used a little more watchfulness
to guard against it.
I was destined for the sea, and at an early age to sea I went. But
though I had risen superior to many apprehensions which once tortured
me, yet there were times when I could not entirely conquer former
weaknesses; and a few weeks after the frigate to which I belonged had
left Plymouth on a three months’ cruise, one of the quartermasters of
the name of Buckley died, and, as is the usual custom, the body was
sewed up in a hammock preparatory to interment. The poor fellow had
expired late in the afternoon, and the committal of the corpse to the
deep was to take place the following morning. Now Buckley had shown me
a great deal of kindness, and taught me to knot and splice, and other
parts of a seaman’s duty; besides, he had always slept at no great
distance from me, and both of us were in the same watch; yet I could
not subdue the horror I felt struggling in my breast, at the thoughts
of passing the night near the cock-pit where I supposed the dead man
to be laid. I dared not mention a word of this to my messmates, lest
it should have ruined my character for ever; and as I was to take the
morning watch, I went early to my hammock--but not to sleep. The close
proximity to the corpse excited the most sickening sensations, which
I found it impossible to get rid of; horrible phantoms floated before
my imagination, and if weary nature exerted her prerogative and sank
into repose for a moment, I started with dread lest the cold hand of
the old man should be pressed heavily on my heart. At length my mind
was harrowed up beyond human endurance; the watch below had turned in;
there was no light except the glimmering in the lantern of the sentry,
and he sat dozing at his post. I thought I could catch the spot where
the corpse was extended, and faintly discern the outline of his form.
To remain longer was impossible; the bell struck four,[1] and slipping
on my jacket and trousers, over which I hastily wrapped my watch-coat,
I cautiously ascended to the deck, but, ashamed to be seen, I crept
into the launch,[2] which was between the booms, and finding a hammock,
which I supposed to have been negligently left there by one of the
seamen, I laid myself down upon it, and pulling over me an old sail
with which it had been covered, I was soon in a deep and refreshing
slumber.
The corpse was to be committed to the deep whilst all hands were
upon deck, during the relief of the watch at four o’clock in the
morning; and exactly at that moment, I was awoke by some one shaking
me rather roughly by the shoulder. In an instant I sprung up; horrid
recollections rushed upon me: it was broad daylight; many eyes were
staring at me, some with astonishment, others with mirth; but, oh! how
can I describe the terrible thrill that ran through every vein, when
on looking at the hammock which had served me for a bed, I discovered
that I had through the whole of the night been sleeping with the dead
man for my companion, the body having been removed to the launch late
in the preceding evening! I could not speak; I could not shriek; but
I burst into an hysterical fit of laughter, and that saved me;--for
the spectators, not knowing what was passing in my mind, took it for
bravado. Many were the jokes respecting my attachment to old Buckley;
and thus I was severely punished for my folly.
Two years passed away, during which I had occasional returns of terror
and alarm, arising from my dread of non-existents, though I had been
in two or three engagements and gained some applause for my conduct.
The frigate I had first joined had been laid up unserviceable, and I
was now in a beautiful eighteen-gun brig-sloop on the South American
station. The tale of old Buckley was no longer the subject of amusement
to others and torture to me, for the circumstance was unknown to my
new messmates; and I entertained hopes that in the course of time, I
should be enabled to overcome the feelings which but too frequently
oppressed me.
The sloop was attached to the expedition intended to subjugate (for any
other design was futile) the city of Monte Video, in the river Plata;
and, with several other vessels, we were employed to capture the island
of Goretta, in Maldonado Bay. There were three strong batteries, with
long twenty-four and thirty-two pounders mounted, and these batteries
were well manned with Spaniards; but they were compelled to yield to
the intrepidity of our brave tars after a severe slaughter, considering
the comparatively small number of men engaged. After the conflict,
small parties were posted in various places round the island to prevent
a surprise, whilst the main body with the commanding officer occupied a
large building in the centre.
Midnight came,--a dark, dreary, cold, starless midnight, and I was
ordered to visit all the outposts to see that the sentinels were alert
upon their duty. The dead bodies of those who had fallen in battle
remained unburied. I had looked upon many a bleeding and mangled form
during the day; I had seen many a poor wretch writhing in the last
pang of mortal agony; I had gazed with a sort of desperate wildness
on the convulsive contortions which expiring nature had left upon
the countenance; and now, in the stillness and solitude of night, to
traverse the spot where they lay in promiscuous heaps as they had
fallen, my very soul was harrowed up! I would not disobey, and I did
not dare to ask for attendance lest my secret should transpire.
Alone then I departed, every nerve agitated with the commotion that
shook my trembling frame. Alone I took my way to the nearest outpost,
often starting aside as some stiffened corpse lay stretched across
my path. The hollow moaning of the waves breaking against the rugged
rocks, came with a fearful sound upon the wind, which rushed past
in hurried gusts, and now and then a half-stifled groan burst from
some poor creature who yet survived the carnage and was recovering
sensibility. I had reached about halfway to my first place of
destination, when my faculties became in a great measure paralysed,
on hearing something behind which emitted a strange and unnatural
noise. I determined to face it, and turned round for that purpose. The
atmosphere was dense and hazy, enveloping the earth in darkness; but
amidst the gloom, a most horrible figure kept rising up to more than
mortal height, and then again sinking to scarcely half the stature
of a man; two immense projections issued from its hideously formed
head, and a pair of burning eyes glared with vengeful fierceness upon
me: all my old feelings returned; dismay crept upon my spirit; and
making one desperate effort, I ran with amazing rapidity from this
terrific object. But alas! I had not run far, when I stumbled over a
dead body, and fell in the midst of several others. I stretched out
my hands to assist me in rising, and they rested upon the cold clammy
face of a corpse! Once more upon my feet, I looked round; the monster
was close to me, rising and falling as it had done before, and again
I bounded away without knowing whither. A building presented itself,
which I hoped was one of the outposts, and hastily entering it, I
fell about twelve feet into a space below, but sustained no bodily
injury as the floor was covered with piles of seal skins. Here, in
thick darkness and insensibility, I lay for several hours, when I was
accidentally discovered by a party who had clandestinely left the
main-body to seek for plunder, and were attracted to the spot by seeing
an enormous _he-goat_ near the entrance to the building. By the light
of the lantern which they carried I was readily recognised, and soon
rescued from my uncomfortable situation. The fresh air and human voices
speedily restored me to animation, and almost the first thing I saw,
quietly standing amid the group of seamen, was the innocent cause of
my alarm and misfortune,--_the great he-goat_! My fall was attributed
to accident; and, attended by the party, I visited the outposts and
made my report to the commanding officer. The account of my adventure
soon spread, but the occurrence was attributed to any thing except the
real cause, as the different tale-tellers had each a story of his own
to magnify my intrepidity; and thus my weakness not only again escaped
detection, but I actually gained approbation for my courage. From that
hour my determination became more and more strengthened to resist the
pusillanimity, which in spite of every effort would at times attack me.
I was next employed in the capture of Monte Video, or rather the city
of San Philip, which is the proper name,--Monte Video being a lofty
mountain on one promontory of a deep bay, as the city of San Philip
stands on the extreme point of the other promontory. After the city
was taken, I was stationed at night on the flat roof of a house which
communicated with several others; having received orders to be very
vigilant, and in case of any thing material occurring to forward
immediate information to the officer in command of the party, who
was to despatch the intelligence to head-quarters. The post was one
of extreme importance, and had been entrusted to me on account of my
apparent fearlessness. It overlooked the gates leading to the shores of
the bay, which, though in our possession, were frequently visited by
guerilla bands, who secretly dealt death to the incautious sentinels.
I had been about one hour upon the look out, and had suppressed the
rising sensations of terror which had more than once attacked me; when,
to my great surprise, a large empty earthenware crate, that stood in
the corner of the next flat began to move slowly along the roof. I
had been leaning over the parapet of the house with my back towards
the crate, but the slight rustling made by the movement caused me to
glance over my shoulder without appearing to turn my head. The motion
ceased; but I could not doubt the fact, for the crate was not in the
situation where I had first seen it. I still remained in my position
without stirring, but kept my eyes directed by a sidelong glance
towards the object. Again it moved, but so slowly and noiselessly, that
by a person possessing a mind of any other stamp than mine, it would
have passed unheard and consequently unheeded. In vain I struggled to
suppress my emotion,--trembling imbecility was rapidly creeping upon my
system,--all my former terrors were reviving, when at that moment the
devices of the guerillas recurred to my recollection, and cocking the
lock of a pistol, I stood in perfect readiness. Again the crate moved,
so as to get more into my rear; but a picket-guard passing through
the street below, I called to the officer and instantly sprang over
the breastwork that divided the two roofs, and ran to that part which
was most likely to cut off a retreat if the crate had been moved by
human agency,--of which, I confess, I entertained strong doubts. These,
however, were soon dispelled; for I had scarcely reached my station,
when the crate was thrown up, and the tall gaunt figure of a guerilla
was for an instant seen against the dim light of the sky. But it was
only for an instant: our pistols seemed to be discharged at the same
moment of time. I heard his ball whistle by my ears, and it left a
tingling sensation that indicated how very close it had passed to my
head: the smoke hindered me from seeing more, but I felt the sharp
point of a knife graze down my breast,--I heard a heavy fall into the
street below,--a fire of musketry succeeded;--then followed a wild
shriek, and the guerilla was a corpse! His knife had been intended
for my heart, but a backward step on my part, saved me: the skin was
slightly scratched, and the instrument remained in my coat without
doing further injury.
In what manner the desperado had gained the roof, I could not then
divine; and I felt certain that he was not under the crate on my first
taking the post, as I had carefully examined it. I had afterwards an
opportunity of witnessing the mode by which he had accomplished it,
and it was simply through the efforts of a number of men, who were
raised up successively on each other’s shoulders. His design was
assassination and plunder. For my share in this transaction, I obtained
the approval of Sir Home Popham, and was raised in temporary rank.
The next trial of my nervous system was at Sierra Leone. I was then in
a frigate, and as fears were entertained that the French were about to
make a descent upon some part of the settlement, (a French squadron
having been seen hovering off the coast,) the free negroes were armed
and enrolled as volunteers. To effect this at a village about six miles
in the interior, I was despatched with proper orders, and the boat
landed me at the nearest point to my place of destination. It was late
in the evening before my duty was completed; and as I was particularly
desirous to return to the ship and make my report, an officer of the
York Rangers lent me a beautiful and spirited horse, which I mounted,
though not without a few misgivings, which were much increased when I
was jocosely requested not to fall in love with the “ghost” on my road.
On the wayside stood a lone and uninhabited house, where a trafficker
in human flesh had murdered his wife; and ever since, the lady, or her
apparition, had presented herself after dark before the gate. Beyond
this house were the remains of a negro village, which previously to
colonization had been attacked by slave-dealers and burned. The aged
inhabitants were massacred, the young were borne to slavery; and now
it was asserted that the former visited their old habitations, and
called aloud for vengeance to redress their wrongs. Such tales were not
calculated to inspire composure; but I strove to laugh at the jokes
passed on me, and started off at full speed, declaring that “the ghosts
should have a long chase, if they felt inclined to sport.”
The empty boast still faltered on my heart and my tremulous hand could
scarcely hold the rein, when the house of death, all desolate, appeared
in view. Striking the spurs into the sides of the generous animal, he
sprang forward on his way, and passed the dreadful spot without my
witnessing any thing to excite horror.
Although the moon was up, yet storms were on the wind, and heavy clouds
obscured her light. Often in imagination did I hear the shrieks of the
slaughtered negroes as they came howling on the gale, whilst I rapidly
approached the ruined village which had been the terrific scene of
blood. A black cloud thick with darkness overshadowed the picture,
and spread a gloomy wildness over every object. The horse buried his
hoofs deep in the sand, and, like an arrow from a bow, continued his
fleet career; when, in a moment, he stopped, threw out his forelegs
and reared upon his haunches, while steaming foam issued from his
nostrils. It was with considerable difficulty that I retained my seat;
and as the creature refused to proceed, I rode back a short distance
and again made an effort to pursue my direct road, but in vain; the
animal stopped at the same spot, and flew from side to side of the
highway, nor could the whip and spur urge him to advance.
Several times did I repeat the same attempt; and though a chilling awe
crept through my veins and made my blood run cold, yet nothing had
presented itself to my sight, though it was evident that the eyes of
the horse were fixed upon something supernaturally terrific.
At length the moon shed her dim light through a fleecy cloud, and then
with horror and amazement I beheld the cause of terror; for right in
the middle of the road appeared a long black coffin, and the pale beams
of the moon glanced on the white escutcheons fixed on the top. Every
feeling of the soul was racked to the extreme; every fibre of the heart
was nerved to desperation; and, mustering all my breath, I uttered the
great and awful name to which both quick and dead must pay obedience.
The lid of the coffin was thrown up,--a figure slowly raised itself and
gazed upon me, whilst my whole existence seemed quivering on the verge
of eternity. The horse pawed the ground with uncontrolled fury; the
howling of the gale seemed more dreadful;--when a hollow voice, with
distinct utterance, vociferated, “Don’t be alarmed, ’tis only Uncle
Joey!--So, so, poor fellow! so, so!”
The horse, hearing a well-known sound, became pacified; and then I
ascertained that Uncle Joey, a corporal in the newly-raised volunteers,
had been to town to fetch an _arm-chest_, which had been made by a
carpenter to deposit the muskets in. Having, however, drank rather
freely, he had found himself drowsy on his way back; so getting into
the chest (which was painted black with a tin plate on the lid) and
shutting himself in, he had enjoyed a comfortable nap, till the
snorting of the animal and my shouting brought about his resurrection.
I hardly need say how much my heart was lightened by this explanation;
and that I parted with Uncle Joey and his shell in much better spirits
than had attended our meeting. Since that time I have had occasional
returns of panic, but they have gradually diminished, and I am now
almost as daring as my late excellent father, and except during
temporary fits of nervous relaxation, care neither for ghost nor
goblin; and I trust, that whilst my readers who are parents will keep a
watchful eye that servants do not instil pernicious feelings into the
breasts of their offspring, my young readers will rest satisfied on
the assurance of an old man, that all ghosts are in reality mere Uncle
Joeys.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Ten o’clock at night.
[2] The largest boat belonging to a ship.
FRERE DU DIABLE.
“Some said he was a wizard wight,
Some said he was a devil.”
Whoever has visited Italy, must retain a lasting remembrance of
its romantic beauties, its delicious climate, and the balmy odours
exhaled from the glowing productions of its soil. It was in one of
the most delightful parts of this luxuriant country, that Joachim
Galeazzo cultivated his extensive vineyards; and his wealth and
influence rendered him of considerable importance, not only in the
immediate neighbourhood, but throughout the province where he resided.
Possessed of a fine manly form, and endowed with a countenance of mild
benevolence, it could be no wonder that he was united to a female
whose loveliness first attracted his attention, and whose sweetness
of disposition secured the best affections of his heart. Smiling
little cherubs blessed their union, gladdening prospects crowned
their industry, and happiness shed contentment on their days. It was
delightful to see the interesting family group, after the heat of the
day had subsided, assembling round the margin of the clear fountain to
enjoy its refreshing coolness, or revelling on the verdant lawn and
sporting in their innocence and gayety.
But this was a bliss too pure to continue long. That plague of kings
and scourge of nations--ambition, urged Napoleon on to conquest;
and war, with its attendant horrors, spread devastation through the
fertile valleys, while ravages heightened by ruthless ferocity marked
the progress of the invaders. In vain did the peasants rush to defend
their country and their homes; the army of the conqueror advanced amid
smoking ruins and burning villages, the ashes of which were quenched
only by the blood of slaughtered victims. Galeazzo possessed a soul of
undaunted courage, and he determined to exert his utmost efforts to
repel the approaching storm. He assembled a band of the bravest of his
countrymen, and a solemn oath was pledged upon the altar, that they
would expel the sanguinary invaders from their native soil, or die in
the attempt.
It was an affecting sight to see those self-devoted heroes parting from
their families and friends. Mothers and maidens, amid all the anxious
emotions which fill the female heart with apprehension, looked with
glowing pride upon the men they loved; and the small but firm phalanx
bade adieu to their peaceful habitations, and to those whom danger
bound more strongly round their hearts, determined that no disgrace
should tarnish their fair fame.
Galeazzo and his band of patriots marched towards the enemy, and nearly
the whole of them fell in the desperate struggle for liberty. They had,
however, inspired their countrymen with fresh vigour, and the career of
Napoleon was for a short time checked. The gallant conduct of Galeazzo,
who still survived, pointed him out as a fit person to assume a higher
command; a number of select and well tried men were therefore placed at
his disposal, and without risking a general engagement, he commenced
that species of guerilla warfare which afterwards became so terrible to
the French.
But fortune, which at first crowned the efforts of Galeazzo with
success, at length forsook him. In an evil hour he fell into a snare
that had been laid to entrap him: his men were either killed or
dispersed; and wounded almost to death, he returned to his own estate
to aid the flight of his family to the mountains.
Almost fainting with the loss of blood, he arrived at the midnight hour
on the borders of his vineyards. But the hand of the destroyer had been
speedy; the red hue of the crackling flames streamed upon his sight,
and overpowered with agony and weakness, he sank to the ground behind
a hedge of myrtle that screened him from observation. Insensibility
would have been a blessing, but it came not; for though unable to rise
from the spot where he had fallen, his mind was still acutely alive to
all that passed within his view. He saw his little innocents butchered
by the murderous hands of the inebriated troops; he saw his beautiful
wife struggling in vain against the brutal violence of the soldiery; he
beheld the bodies of his children--
“Their silver skins laced with their golden blood,”
thrown among the burning embers of their once happy home; his soul
sickened at the spectacle, and his senses forsook him. At length the
ruthless passions of the troops were satiated; demolition ceased, for
there was nothing more to destroy, and they quitted the work of their
impious hands to immolate other victims, and to offer fresh sacrifices
at the shrine of Napoleon’s ambition.
Morning dawned upon the wretched sufferer, who awoke once more to sense
and misery; yet all around was calm, except when the solemn stillness
was broken by the piercing death-shriek of some poor wretch in his
mortal agony, or the distant discharge of artillery, which told a tale
of slaughter. Still serenely beautiful was the clear blue sky, tinged
with the golden radiance of the sun; and the blushing flowers that had
drunk the moistening dew breathed forth their odours to the morning
breeze, blending the soul of sweetness with the cooling winds. But the
song of the peasant, as he early plied his wonted task among the purple
clusters of the vine, was heard no more. The very birds, scared by the
blackening smoke that curled towards the heavens and like the blood
of Abel cried from the ground for vengeance, had left the spot where
desolation triumphed.
Life was rapidly passing away from the wretched Galeazzo; his wounds
had burst out afresh in his struggles to rise, and he felt approaching
dissolution spread its film over his eyes. Still he continued fearfully
sensible of his situation, and waited for the hour when his mortal
agony should cease.
At this moment, the whole expanse was filled with a wild unnatural
yell, like the mingling laugh and shriek of the tortured maniac; and
a female figure, her hair dishevelled and hanging down her bare and
bleeding bosom, her white dress rent and deeply stained with human
gore, appeared upon the lawn. Her left hand was writhed in the hair
of a French soldier, who was wounded beyond the power of resistance;
and with strength almost surpassing nature, she dragged him towards
the still glowing ashes of her once joyous habitation. Her right
hand grasped a dagger, which was reeking with blood, and there she
stood like another Hecate over her fallen prey. There was a maddened
laugh--a scream--a shout of triumph--as she buried the ruddy steel in
the body of the soldier; then flashed it in the sun, and again plunged
it to the hilt in his breast. She gazed on her prostrate enemy with
the fiend-like expression of a demon, and seemed to feel a terrible
gratification in turning over every mangled corpse that bore the
uniform of France, and with a direful vengeance thrusting the dagger
into many a heart that had long ceased to beat. Unsatiated by revenge,
she looked round for fresh offerings to her fury, and at length came to
the spot where Galeazzo was crouched,
“Breathing the slow remains of life away.”
She looked upon his sunken eye and hollow cheek, and raising the
weapon in her hand, “Die! wretch,” said she; “for thou hast nought to
live for now.” But nature refused compliance with her purpose; the
dagger dropped from her unnerved grasp, and she fell senseless by his
side:--it was his wife!
* * * * *
The French army continued to advance almost unmolested, and thousands
fled to the mountains to escape the ravages of war. But though these
remained quiescent and passive at first, yet when the impulse of
terror had subsided, the guerillas again formed themselves into an
organized band, and swore eternal enmity to France. Their leader was
a man of dauntless intrepidity and cool determination. Ever foremost
in the conflict and always the last in the retreat, he soon become a
conspicuous object to the invaders; and when the army encamped near
Capua, his single hand performed prodigies of valour. The outposts were
constantly attacked; the sentinels, even in the very centre of the main
body, were found dead upon their post; and but a few of the foraging
parties ever returned to supply the wants of the soldiery. All succour
was cut off from seaward by the British cruisers, and provisions began
rapidly to diminish in spite of even the masterly commissariat of
Bonaparte.
The officers had been accustomed to make excursions into the
surrounding country; but this was at last forbidden, for there was
scarcely a jutting crag or thicket that did not conceal a desperate
enemy, whose shining blade or long fusee was prompt to deal
destruction. In vain were whole brigades called out to scour the
country; the guerillas were secure in their mountainholds, and bade
defiance to their foes. Attempts were made to dislodge them from their
positions, but they were utterly fruitless; for though a few prisoners
fell into the hands of the French, and after suffering torture were
hung upon the branches of trees as spectacles for their companions, yet
this did but instigate them to firmer resolve and to deeper revenge.
The chief had been known repeatedly to visit the camp of the invading
army in disguise; and once, on being detected and pursued, the bullets
whistled around him in every direction; but he escaped unhurt, and
superstition whispered that his body was impervious to shot. The
sentinels declared that they had seen him assume a variety of shapes,
for he was sometimes perceived in the form of a wolf stealing from bush
to bush, and then he would suddenly emerge in all the vigour and prime
of manhood; but pursuit seemed useless, for he was said to disappear
so suddenly, that none but those who were under the protection of
superhuman agency could otherwise have escaped. A general consternation
spread among the soldiery; even the commanders caught the infection,
and this desperate leader became known to the whole army under the
appellation of Frere du Diable. Large rewards were set upon his head;
many of the officers bound themselves by oath to take him dead or
alive, but their oath was generally sealed in death. Oftentimes when
the wine was set upon the convivial board, and the canvass walls echoed
to the sounds of mirth, the alarm was given that Frere du Diable was
in the camp, and every weapon was prepared and every eye alert for
action. Oftentimes at the evening hour, when the generous wine had
warmed the flagging courage, would some one or other, more bold than
his companions, laugh at their pusillanimity and swear to destroy the
common foe; but the morning light generally saw him a corpse, with some
certain token that either Frere du Diable or one of his comrades had
dealt the blow.
It was about this time that Sir Sidney Smith commanded a fine
frigate in the Mediterranean, and few men were better adapted for
the conducting that sort of amphibious warfare which attended the
hostilities on the shores of Italy. Dauntless intrepidity and daring
resolution were mingled with a skilful knowledge of his profession; and
there was a certain degree of romantic enthusiasm in his enterprises,
which strongly displayed his adventurous and chivalrous spirit. The
defeat of the French at Acre, and other places, was an incontestible
proof how well he could conduct operations on land; and in boarding
and cutting out the vessels of the enemy from under the embrasures of
well-mounted batteries, or in storming the batteries themselves, his
cool courage and his steady skill were regarded as pledges of victory
by the intrepid seamen. But his chief delight was to lead his men under
the cover of the twilight glow of an Italian night through the dark
mazes of the forest, or winding among the huge masses of rock that
lined the coast, where the wild guerilla crossed his path or joined his
band and gave intelligence of the enemy.
It would be impossible for language to do adequate justice to such
a scene. The slow movements of a hundred men, who crept from bush
to bush without a whisper,--the cautious and silent advance upon
the enemy,--the red watch-fire that marked the temporary encampment
of the French, and the occasional challenge of the drowsy sentinel
at the outpost, which died away upon the breeze as tranquillity was
restored,--the crouching down in breathless silence till suspicion was
lulled,--oh! there was a degree of enchantment in the whole which then
was realized, but cannot now be described.
To the seamen these expeditions were a source of real amusement, and
they afforded them repeated opportunities for indulging in their
characteristic humour. When the word was passed for the boats to
be manned, (and none but volunteers were permitted to go with the
captain,) the hoarse voice of the boatswain’s mate followed his shrill
pipe, and as the words “Bush-fighters away!” resounded down the
hatchways, every man fore-and-aft knew the purport of the summons, and
all would have gladly joined the party for the shore.
But though I say all, it must be admitted that the old master was an
exception; he would have fought the devil himself in his ship, or would
have run her flying jib-boom into the very quarters of his satanic
majesty if he had caught him afloat; but he had no idea of “land
privateering,” as he termed it. “A sailor,” he said, “always gets out
of soundings ashore, and without knowing his bearings and distances,
generally runs upon a false reckoning.” The fact was, he was as much a
piece of the frigate as any timberhead in her hull; and nothing short
of being wrecked or blown up could have separated them.
Sir Sidney had obtained intelligence that Frere du Diable was in the
neighbourhood of his cruising ground, and wishing to communicate
with him for the purpose of ascertaining the precise situation and
operations of the French, the boats were manned and armed, and an hour
before day-break the whole party landed in a small cove formed by rocks
that entirely concealed from view the means of debarkation.
Leaving the principal portion of the men by the boats, with strict
orders to the officer not to suffer any one to stray away, but to be
extremely vigilant, Sir Sidney, with a lieutenant, two midshipmen, and
twelve men, proceeded on his way over rock and stone, through bush and
briar, towards the spot where it was most probable the guerilla chief
would be found. It was a lovely morning; the stars still glistened
in the clear blue heaven of an Italian sky, and there was that sort
of dubious light which greatly added to the beauty of the romantic
scenery. Sometimes the party had to climb by aid of their hands and
knees to the summit of the frowning precipice, and at others to slide
down huge masses of rock; so necessary was it to keep from every beaten
track, for the purpose of avoiding any stragglers from the enemy’s
camp, who might raise an alarm.
At length, after considerable exertion, and just as the sun appeared
above the verge of the horizon, they arrived at a place in the
interior of a thick forest and nearly at the extreme height of the
mountain, which evidently displayed strong lines of defence, but so
inartificially contrived as to appear more the work of nature than
the hand of man. Huge trees lay piled in various directions as if
thrown down by some gust of the wild tempest, yet in such positions as
to afford occasional shelter to a retreating party, and offering an
admirable post for harassing an advancing foe.
Scarcely was the first of these barriers passed, when a shrill whistle
sounded close to them, and in a few minutes they burst into an open
space that had been cleared of the underwood, and some of the trees now
formed a pleasant alcove. Here the scene became highly interesting;
it was one of those such as Salvator Rosa would have gloried in
transferring to the canvass. In one corner upon an elevated mound so
as to command a view of the whole area, sat a majestic-looking figure,
with a countenance of mild serenity, but yet of a commanding aspect.
Over his shoulders was hung the skin of a wolf, and the lower part of
his body was enveloped in a cloak of furs. The butts of his pistols
were just seen as they stuck in his broad girdle; a heavy sword and
a carbine lay by his side, and in his hand he held that peculiar
kind of knife so well known as the favourite weapon of the guerilla.
Resting upon one knee, and with her arm leaning on his shoulder,
was a female of great beauty; she was gazing tenderly upon him, but
at intervals there was a fierce flashing of the eyes, an agitated
contortion of feature, that rendered her terrible to the sight. There
was nevertheless a fascinating beauty still, though it was constantly
changing from the glance of fervid affection to the fiend-like
expression of a fallen angel. These were Frere du Diable and his wife:
or in other words, Galeazzo and Camilla.
The guerilla band were assembled in separate groupes, yet so connected
as to be ready for action at a moment’s warning. Some were stretched
upon the ground and still buried in the deep sleep which exertion and
fatigue render so delicious to the weary frame; others were awakening
from their slumbers and stretching their sinewy limbs, whilst a few
were examining their arms and polishing their knives.
The shrill whistle again sounded, when a single blast from a bugle
aroused every soul in an instant, and carbine in hand, they stood
prepared for battle! Sir Sidney advanced, was immediately recognised,
and a loud shout of joy proclaimed his welcome. The guerillas laid down
their arms, and received the seamen with demonstrations of attachment.
The chiefs met and embraced in token of amity, whilst the beautiful
Camilla testified her satisfaction at seeing the enemies of the French.
A multitude of conflicting feelings seemed to agitate her soul as she
pressed the hand of Sir Sidney to her heart, and called upon him as
“the avenger of blood.”
As soon as order was restored, the two chiefs held a conference
together; after which refreshment was spread upon the green sward,
consisting of dried venison, hard cheese, bread, fruits, and wine.
On the elevated mound Galeazzo, Sir Sidney, Camilla, and the British
officers, were seated upon the grass. Behind the guerilla chief,
a little to the right, stood the bugleman, and on the left the
sword-bearer, both prompt to obey commands. The seamen joined in the
messes of the band, and the utmost harmony prevailed. A few minutes
had elapsed since these arrangements were made, when suddenly a bright
flash was seen among the bushes on the opposite side to that where
the chief sat, and as the report of fire-arms echoed among the rocks,
the bugleman fell dead upon Sir Sidney’s shoulder. All parties were
instantly on their feet, and the chiefs dealt mutual looks of distrust
at each other. It was evident that the ball had been designed for one
of them, and suspicion pervaded the minds of both that treachery was
at work. The dauntless look of defiance was exchanged; but it was only
momentary, for the shrill voice of Camilla was heard. “Do they seek the
lion in his den?” she exclaimed with bitterness. “On, on, and destroy
the common foe!”
The features of the guerilla changed; he grasped Sir Sidney’s hand
with impetuosity, gazed for a moment on the corpse, and then seizing
the bugle, blew a blast so loud and shrill, that every rock and glen
re-echoed the sound. He ceased, and the whole band stood in breathless
silence, watching their leader who appeared like a statue; but no
sound was heard, except the gentle rustling of the leaves in the
morning breeze. Again with wild haste the chief raised the bugle and
sounded louder and longer than before, and again all subsided to the
deepest attention. At length, answering blasts were heard in different
directions, and the chief, dashing the bugle on the ground, gave orders
for the immediate departure of the band. Sir Sidney wished to accompany
him, but this offer was politely declined; yet, turning to Camilla, he
requested her to remain with the English captain till his return. She
gave her husband a look of stern reproach. “Am I not bereaved?” said
she. “Is not the blood of my offspring on their hands? Will not the
wolf fight for her whelps, and shall I shrink? On, on, Galeazzo! the
death shriek of my murdered children is ringing in my ears, and nought
but deep and terrible revenge can satisfy me now!”
The chief raised the wolf’s skin from his shoulders, and drawing
the head-part over his own so that the nostrils covered his brows,
he assumed that terrific appearance which at all times rendered him
so conspicuous an object in his encounters with the enemy. He again
grasped Sir Sidney’s hand, and requested him to return to his ship; and
as soon as he saw a smoke rising from the spot on which he then stood,
he might consider it as a signal for him to retrace his steps to the
place of rendezvous.
The guerilla band spread themselves into small parties and pursued
different routes, though only at such distances from each other as to
be ready to unite into one body should it be necessary; and in a few
minutes not a vestige of the troop remained, except the corpse, the
broken food, and the half-emptied flagons.
The British party returned to the frigate, and a careful watch was set
to look out for the concerted signal. The officers were constantly
directing their spy-glasses towards the spot, but nothing was seen;
and the day passed away in restless impatience, not unaccompanied with
suspicion of Frere du Diable’s intention.
Night came,--a beautiful clear Italian night,--reviving in the mind all
the strong fervour of romance. The deep blue of the sky, reflected on
the transparent wave which gave back its lovely hue, was beautifully
contrasted with the dark foliage and the rocky masses which bound the
shore, affording no indication of human dwelling--all was still and
passionless. The eye was eagerly strained towards the thick wood, which
frowned in gloom and pride; when about the middle of the first watch,
light wreathes of smoke curled upward above the trees, followed by
bright flashes, and in a few minutes the red glare of ascending flames
gave a grand and terrific change to the quiet of the scene.
The boats were again manned, and soon sweeping through the liquid
element to the spot they had quitted in the morning; and in an hour,
Sir Sidney, with a more numerous retinue than before, arrived at the
appointed place. But though the scene of the early day was striking,
it was a mere tranquil spectacle when compared with the present, where
wild ferocity was heightened by intoxication and hellish cruelty. In
the centre of the space, the dry trunks of trees were piled on end, so
as to form a spiral elevation and terminate almost in a point at the
summit. They were burning with great rapidity, and cast a red tinge on
the horrible figures that were spread around. The chief leaned upon his
heavy sword near the fire, and his wife stood laughing by his side; but
that laugh was utterly destitute of human pleasure,--it was like the
laugh of a fallen angel exulting over mortal agony. She was terrible
in her beauty, and the soul trembled before her demoniac gaze. A loud
shout proclaimed Sir Sidney’s presence, and he immediately advanced
towards the chief, who received him in the most cordial manner; whilst
Camilla in wild accents exclaimed, “They would seek the lion in his
den: but more blood has been shed as a sacrifice to avenge my murdered
babes!” and she threw another log on the flames.
The chief informed Sir Sidney that the pursuit of the guerillas had not
been unavailing, for they had followed the delinquent (who proved to
be a French soldier under pledge to destroy Frere du Diable) down to
the very outpost of the enemy’s camp, where, after a slight skirmish,
he was captured and brought back to the strong-hold of the band. “And
see!” said the chief, opening the blazing pile with his sword, and
showing the mutilated remains of a human body consuming in the flames,
“thus perish all our enemies!”
“Ay, perish, perish for ever!” responded Camilla.
“This is he,” continued the chief, “who fired the shot this morning. He
confessed that it was designed for me, but thus--thus am I avenged!”
The miserable victim had been burnt alive!
THE FISHERMAN’S FAMILY.
“As he spoke,
A sea burst o’er them, and their cables broke!
Then, like a lion bounding from the toil,
The ship shot through the billows’ black recoil,
Urged by the howling blast--all guidance gone--
They shuddering felt her reeling, rushing on--
Nor dared to question where; nor dared to cast
One asking look,--for that might be their last.”
“Come aft here, my lads, and haul down another reef in the mainsail!”
exclaimed a hoary veteran, who stood at the helm of a fishing smack
which was buffeting the waves at the entrance to the British Channel
one October evening, when the lowering of the clouds and the freshening
of the breeze gave strong indications of a southwesterly gale. The
order was promptly obeyed; and the snug little craft again breasted the
lofty surge, like a bird upon the wing, skimming the foaming tops of
the billows.