stay yet awhile. He is heir to a very large fortune, is he not?"
"A clear eight thousand pounds a year, if not more."
"If his father dies he must, of course, leave; a midshipman with eight
thousand pounds a year would indeed be an anomaly."
"That the service could not permit. It would be as injurious to
himself as it would to others about him. At present, he has almost,
indeed I may say quite, an unlimited command of money."
"That's bad, very bad. I wonder he behaves so well as he does."
"And so do I: but he really is a very superior lad, with all his
peculiarities, and a general favourite with those whose opinions and
friendship are worth having."
"Well, don't curb him too tight--for really he does not require it. He
goes very well in a snaffle."
CHAPTER XXVIII
"Philosophy made Easy," upon agrarian principles, the subject of some
uneasiness to our hero--The first appearance, but not the last, of an
important personage.
The conversation was here interrupted by a mail from England which
they had been expecting. Captain Wilson retired with his letters; the
Governor remained equally occupied; and our hero received the first
letter ever written to him by his father. It ran as follows:--
"MY DEAR SON,
"I have many times taken up my pen with the intention of
letting you know how things went on in this country. But as I can
perceive around but one dark horizon of evil, I have as often laid it
down again without venturing to make you unhappy with such bad
intelligence.
"The account of your death, and also of your unexpectedly being yet
spared to us, were duly received, and I trust, I mourned and rejoiced
on each occasion with all the moderation characteristic of a
philosopher. In the first instance I consoled myself with the
reflection that the world you had left was in a state of slavery, and
pressed down by the iron arm of despotism, and that to die was gain,
not only in all the parson tells us, but also in our liberty; and, at
the second intelligence, I moderated my joy for nearly about the same
reasons, resolving, notwithstanding what Dr Middleton may say, to die
as I have lived, a true philosopher.
"The more I reflect the more am I convinced that there is nothing
required to make this world happy but equality, and the rights of man
being duly observed--in short, that everything and everybody should be
reduced to one level. Do we not observe that it is the law of
nature--do not brooks run into rivers--rivers into seas--mountains
crumble down upon the plains?--are not the seasons contented to
equalise the parts of the earth? Why does the sun run round the
ecliptic, instead of the equator, but to give an equal share of his
heat to both sides of the world? Are we not all equally born in
misery? does not death level us all aequo pede, as the poet hath? are
we not all equally hungry, thirsty, and sleepy, and thus levelled by
our natural wants? And such being the case, ought we not to have our
equal share of good things in this world, to which we have undoubted
equal right? Can any argument be more solid or more level than this,
whatever nonsense Dr Middleton may talk?
"Yes, my son, if it were not that I still hope to see the sun of
justice arise, and disperse the manifold dark clouds which obscure the
land--if I did not still hope, in my time, to see an equal
distribution of property--an Agrarian law passed by the House of
Commons, in which all should benefit alike--I would not care how soon
I left this vale of tears, created by tyranny and injustice. At
present, the same system is carried on; the nation is taxed for the
benefit of the few, and it groans under oppression and despotism; but
I still do think that there is, if I may fortunately express myself, a
bright star in the west; and signs of the times which comfort me.
Already we have had a good deal of incendiarism about the country, and
some of the highest aristocracy have pledged themselves to raise the
people above themselves, and have advised sedition and conspiracy;
have shown to the debased and unenlightened multitude that their force
is physically irresistible, and recommended them to make use of it,
promising that if they hold in power, they will only use that power to
the abolition of our farce of a constitution, of a church, and of a
king; and that if the nation is to be governed at all, it shall only
be governed by the many. This is cheering. Hail, patriot lords! all
hail! I am in hopes yet that the great work will be achieved, in spite
of the laughs and sneers and shakes of the head, which my arguments
still meet with from that obstinate fellow, Dr Middleton.
"Your mother is in a quiet way; she has given over reading and
working, and even her knitting, as useless; and she now sits all day
long at the chimney corner twiddling her thumbs, and waiting, as she
says, for the millennium. Poor thing! she is very foolish with her
ideas upon this matter, but as usual I let her have her own way in
everything, copying the philosopher of old, who was tied to his
Xantippe.
"I trust, my dear son, that your principles have strengthened with
your years and fortified with your growth, and that, if necessary, you
will sacrifice all to obtain what in my opinion will prove to be the
real millennium. Make all the converts you can, and believe me to be,
"Your affectionate father, and true guide,
"Nicodemus Easy."
Jack, who was alone, shook his head as he read this letter, and then
laid it down with a pish! He did it involuntarily, and was surprised
at himself when he found that he had so done. "I should like to argue
the point," thought Jack, in spite of himself; and then he threw the
letter on the table, and went into Gascoigne's room, displeased with
his father and with himself. He asked Ned whether he had received any
letters from England, and, it being near dinner-time, went back to
dress. On his coming down into the receiving room with Gascoigne, the
Governor said to them,--
"As you both speak Italian, you must take charge of a Sicilian
officer, who has come here with letters of introduction to me, and who
dines here to-day."
Before dinner they were introduced to the party in question, a
slight-made, well-looking young man, but still there was an expression
in his countenance which was not agreeable. In compliance with the
wishes of the Governor, Don Mathias, for so he was called, was placed
between our two midshipmen, who immediately entered into conversation
with him, being themselves anxious to make enquiries about their
friends at Palermo. In the course of conversation, Jack enquired of
him whether he was acquainted with Don Rebiera, to which the Sicilian
answered in the affirmative, and they talked about the different
members of the family.
Don Mathias, towards the close of the dinner, enquired of Jack by what
means he had become acquainted with Don Rebiera, and Jack, in reply,
narrated how he and his friend Gascoigne had saved him from being
murdered by two villains; after this reply the young officer appeared
to be less inclined for conversation, but before the party broke up,
requested to have the acquaintance of our two midshipmen. As soon as
he was gone, Gascoigne observed in a reflective way, "I have seen that
face before, but where I cannot exactly say; but you know, Jack, what
a memory of people I have, and I have seen him before, I am sure."
"I can't recollect that ever I have," replied our hero, "but I never
knew anyone who could recollect in that way as you do."
The conversation was then dropped between them, and Jack was for some
time listening to the Governor and Captain Wilson, for the whole party
were gone away, when Gascoigne, who had been in deep thought since he
had made the observation to Jack, sprang up.
"I have him at last!" cried he.
"Have who?" demanded Captain Wilson.
"That Sicilian officer--I could have sworn that I had seen him
before."
"That Don Mathias?"
"No, Sir Thomas! He is not Don Mathias! He is the very Don Silvio
who was murdering Don Rebiera, when we came to his assistance and
saved him."
"I do believe you are right, Gascoigne."
"I'm positive of it," replied Gascoigne; "I never made a mistake in my
life."
"Bring me those letters, Easy," said the Governor, "and let us see
what they say of him. Here it is--Don Mathias de Alayeres. You may
be mistaken, Gascoigne; it is a heavy charge you are making against
this young man."
"Well, Sir Thomas, if that is not Don Silvio, I'd forfeit my
commission if I had it here in my hand. Besides, I observed the
change in his countenance when we told him it was Easy and I who had
come to Don Rebiera's assistance; and did you observe after that,
Easy, that he hardly said a word."
"Very true," replied Jack. "Well, well, we must see to this," observed
the Governor; "if so, this letter of introduction must be a forgery."
The party then retired to bed, and the next morning, while Easy was in
Gascoigne's room talking over their suspicions, letters from Palermo
were brought up to him. They were in answer to those written by Jack
on his arrival at Malta: a few lines from Don Rebiera, a small note
from Agnes, and a voluminous detail from his friend Don Philip, who
informed him of the good health of all parties, and of their good-will
towards him; of Agnes being as partial as ever; of his having spoken
plainly, as he had promised Jack, to his father and mother relative to
the mutual attachment; of their consent being given, and then
withheld, because Father Thomaso, their confessor, would not listen to
the union of Agnes with a heretic; but nevertheless telling Jack that
this would be got over through the medium of his brother and himself,
who were determined that their sister and he should not be made
unhappy about such a trifle. But the latter part of the letter
contained intelligence equally important, which was, that Don Silvio
had again attempted the life of their father, and would have
succeeded, had not Father Thomaso, who happened to be there, thrown
himself between them. That Don Silvio in his rage had actually
stabbed the confessor, although the wound was not dangerous. That in
consequence of this, all further lenity was denied to him, and the
authorities were in search of him to award him the punishment due to
murder and sacrilege. That up to the present they could not find him,
and it was supposed that he had made his escape to Malta in one of the
speronares.
Such were the contents of the letter, which were immediately
communicated to the Governor and Captain Wilson, upon their meeting at
breakfast.
"Very well, we must see to this," observed the Governor, who then made
his enquiries as to the other intelligence contained in the letters.
Jack and Gascoigne were uneasy till the breakfast was over, when they
made their escape: a few moments afterwards Captain Wilson rose to go
on board, and sent for them, but they were not to be found.
"I understand it all, Wilson," said the Governor; "leave them to me;
go on board and make yourself quite easy."
In the meantime our two midshipmen had taken their hats and walked
away to the parapet of the battery, where they would not be
interrupted.
"Now, Gascoigne," observed Jack, "you guess what I'm about--I must
shoot that rascal this very morning, and that's why I came out with
you."
"But, Easy, the only difference is this, that I must shoot him, and
not you; he is my property, for I found him out."
"We'll argue that point," replied Jack: "he has attempted the life of
my is-to-be, please God, father-in-law, and therefore I have the best
claim to him."
"I beg your pardon, Jack, he is mine, for I discovered him. Now let me
put a case: suppose one man walking several yards before another,
picks up a purse, what claim has the other to it? I found him, and
not you."
"That's all very well, Gascoigne; but suppose the purse you picked up
to be mine, then I have a right to it, although you found it; he is my
bird by right, and not yours."
"But I have another observation to make, which is very important; he
is a blood relation of Agnes, and if his blood is on your hands,
however much he may deserve it, depend upon it, it will be raised as
an obstacle to your union: think of that."
Jack paused in thought. "And let me induce you by another remark--you
will confer on me a most particular favour."
"It will be the greatest I ever could," replied Jack, "and you ought
to be eternally indebted to me."
"I trust to make him eternally indebted to me," replied Gascoigne.
Sailors, if going into action, always begin to reckon what their share
of the prize-money may be, before a shot is fired--our two midshipmen
appear in this instance to be doing the same.
The point having been conceded to Gascoigne, Jack went to the inn
where Don Silvio had mentioned that he had taken up his quarters, and
sending up his card, followed the waiter upstairs. The waiter opened
the door, and presented the card.
"Very well," replied Don Silvio, "you can go down and show him up."
Jack hearing these words, did not wait, but walked in, where he found
Don Silvio very busy removing a hone upon which he had been whetting a
sharp double-edged stiletto. The Sicilian walked up to him, offering
his hand with apparent cordiality; but Jack, with a look of defiance,
said, "Don Silvio, we know you; my object now is to demand, on the
part of my friend, the satisfaction which you do not deserve, but
which our indignation at your second attempt upon Don Rebiera induces
us to offer; for if you escape from him you will have to do with me.
On the whole, Don Silvio, you may think yourself fortunate, for it is
better to die by the hands of a gentleman than by the gibbet."
Don Silvio turned deadly pale--his hand sought his stiletto in his
bosom, but it was remaining on the table; at last he replied, "Be it
so--I will meet you when and where you please, in an hour from this."
Jack mentioned the place of meeting, and then walked out of the room.
He and Gascoigne then hastened to the quarters of an officer they were
intimate with, and having provided themselves with the necessary
fire-arms, were at the spot before the time. They waited for him till
the exact time, yet no Don Silvio made his appearance.
"He's off," observed Gascoigne; "the villain has escaped us." Half an
hour over the time had passed, and still there was no sign of
Gascoigne's antagonist, but one of the Governor's aides-de-camp was
seen walking up to them.
"Here's Atkins," observed Jack; "that's unlucky, but he won't
interfere."
"Gentlemen," said Atkins, taking off his hat with much solemnity, "the
Governor particularly wishes to speak to you both."
"We can't come just now--we'll be there in half an hour."
"You must be there in three minutes, both of you. Excuse me, my
orders are positive--and to see them duly executed I have a corporal
and a file of men behind that wall--of course, if you walk with me
quietly there will be no occasion to send for their assistance."
"This is confounded tyranny," cried Jack. "Well may they call him
'King Tom.'"
"Yes," replied Atkins, "and he governs here in 'rey absoluto' so come
along."
Jack and Gascoigne, having no choice, walked up to the government
house, where they found Sir Thomas in the veranda, which commanded a
view of the harbour and offing.
"Come here, young gentlemen," said the Governor, in a severe tone; "do
you see that vessel about two miles clear of the port? Don Silvio is
in it, going back to Sicily under a guard. And now remember what I
say as a maxim through life. Fight with gentlemen, if you must fight,
but not with villains and murderers. By consenting to fight with a
blackguard, you as much disparage your cloth and compromise your own
characters, as by refusing to give satisfaction to a gentleman.
"There, go away, for I'm angry with you, and don't let me see you till
dinner-time."
CHAPTER XXIX
In which our hero sees a little more service, and is better employed
than in fighting Don Silvio.
But before they met the Governor at his table, a sloop of war arrived
from the fleet with despatches from the commander-in-chief. Those to
Captain Wilson required him to make all possible haste in fitting, and
then to proceed and cruise off Corsica, to fall in with a Russian
frigate which was on that coast; if not there, to obtain intelligence,
and to follow her wherever she might be.
All was now bustle and activity on board of the Aurora. Captain
Wilson, with our hero and Gascoigne, quieted the Governor's house and
repaired on board, where they remained day and night. On the third
day the Aurora was complete and ready for sea, and about noon sailed
out of Valette Harbour.
In a week the Aurora had gained the coast of Corsica, and there was no
need of sending look-out men to the mast-head, for one of the officers
or midshipmen was there from daylight to dark. She ran up the coast
to the northward without seeing the object of her pursuit, or
obtaining any intelligence.
Calms and light airs detained them for a few days, when a northerly
breeze enabled them to run down the eastern side of the island. It
was on the eighteenth day after they had quieted Malta, that a large
vessel was seen ahead about eighteen miles off. The men were then at
breakfast.
"A frigate, Captain Wilson, I'm sure of it," said Mr Hawkins, the
chaplain, whose anxiety induced him to go to the mast-head.
"How is she steering?"
"The same way as we are."
The Aurora was under all possible sail, and when the hands were, piped
to dinner, it was thought that they had neared the chase about two
miles.
"This will be a long chase; a stern chase always is," observed Martin
to Gascoigne.
"Yes, I'm afraid so--but I'm more afraid of her escaping."
"That's not unlikely either," replied the mate.
"You are one of Job's comforters, Martin," replied Gascoigne.
"Then I'm not so often disappointed," replied the mate. "There are
two points to be ascertained; the first is, whether we shall come up
with the vessel or lose her--the next is, if we do come up with her,
whether she is the vessel we are looking for."
"You seem very indifferent about it."
"Indeed I am not: I am the oldest passed midshipman in the ship, and
the taking of the frigate will, if I live, give me my promotion, and
if I'm killed, I shan't want it. But I've been so often disappointed,
that I now make sure of nothing until I have it."
"Well, for your sake, Martin, I will still hope that the vessel is the
one we seek, that we shall not be killed, and that you will gain your
promotion."
"I thank you, Easy--I wish I was one that dared hope as you do." Poor
Martin! he had long felt how bitter it was to meet disappointment upon
disappointment. How true it is, that hope deferred maketh the heart
sick! and his anticipations of early days, the buoyant calculations of
youth, had been one by one crushed, and now, having served his time
nearly three times over, the reaction had become too painful, and, as
he truly said, he dared not hope: still his temper was not soured, but
chastened.
"She has hauled her wind, sir," hailed the second lieutenant from the
topmast cross-trees.
"What think you of that, Martin?" observed Jack. "Either that she is
an English frigate, or that she is a vessel commanded by a very brave
fellow, and well-manned."
It was sunset before the Aurora had arrived within two miles of the
vessel; the private signal had been thrown out, but had not been
answered, either because it was too dark to make out the colours of
the flags, or that these were unknown to an enemy. The stranger had
hoisted the English colours, but that was no satisfactory proof of her
being a friend; and just before dark she had put her head towards the
Aurora, who had now come stem down to her. The ship's company of the
Aurora were all at their quarters, as a few minutes would now decide
whether they had to deal with a friend or foe.
There is no situation perhaps more difficult, and demanding so much
caution, as the occasional meeting with a doubtful ship. On the one
hand, it being necessary to be fully prepared, and not allow the enemy
the advantage which may be derived from your inaction; and on the
other, the necessity of prudence, that you may not assault your
friends and countrymen. Captain Wilson had hoisted the private
night-signal, but here again it was difficult, from his sails
intervening, for the other ship to make it out. Before the two
frigates were within three cables' length of each other, Captain
Wilson, determined that there should be no mistake from any want of
precaution on his part, hauled up his courses and brailed up his
driver that the night-signal might be clearly seen.
Lights were seen abaft on the quarter-deck of the other vessel, as if
they were about to answer, but she continued to keep the Aurora to
leeward at about half a cable's length, and as the foremost guns of
each vessel were abreast of each other, hailed in English--
"Ship ahoy! what ship's that?"
"His Majesty's ship Aurora," replied Captain Wilson, who stood on the
hammocks. "What ship's that?"
By this time the other frigate had passed half her length clear of the
beam of the Aurora, and at the same time that a pretended reply of
"His Majesty's ship--" was heard, a broadside from her guns, which had
been trained aft on purpose, was poured into the Aurora, and at so
short a distance, doing considerable execution. The crew of the
Aurora, hearing the hailing in English, and the vessel passing them
apparently without firing, had imagined that she had been one of their
own cruisers. The captains of the guns had dropped their lanyards in
disappointment, and the silence which had been maintained as the two
vessels met was just breaking up in various ways of lamentation at
their bad luck, when the broadside was poured in, thundering in their
ears, and the ripping and tearing of the beams and planks astonished
their senses. Many were carried down below, but it was difficult to
say whether indignation at the enemy's ruse, or satisfaction at
discovering that they were not called to quarters in vain, most
predominated. At all events, it was answered by three voluntary
cheers, which drowned the cries of those who were being assisted to
the cockpit.
"Man the larboard guns and about ship!" cried Captain Wilson, leaping
off the hammocks. "Look out, my lads, and rake her in stays! We'll
pay him off for that foul play before we've done with him. Look out,
my lads, and take good aim as she pays round."
The Aurora was put about, and her broadside poured into the stern of
the Russian frigate--for such she was. It was almost dark, but the
enemy, who appeared as anxious as the Aurora to come to action, hauled
up her courses to await her coming up. In five minutes the two
vessels were alongside, exchanging murderous broadsides at little more
than pistol-shot--running slowly in for the land, then not more than
five miles distant. The skin-clad mountaineers of Corsica were
aroused by the furious cannonading, watching the incessant flashes of
the guns, and listening to their reverberating roar.
After half an hour's fierce combat, during which the fire of both
vessels was kept up with undiminished vigour, Captain Wilson went down
on the main deck, and himself separately pointed each gun after it was
loaded; those amidships being direct for the main channels of the
enemy's ship, while those abaft the beam were gradually trained more
and more forward, and those before the beam more and more aft, so as
to throw all their shot nearly into one focus, giving directions that
they were all to be fired at once, at the word of command. The enemy,
not aware of the cause of the delay, imagined that the fire of the
Aurora had slackened, and loudly cheered. At the word given, the
broadside was poured in, and, dark as it was, the effects from it were
evident. Two of the midship ports of the antagonist were blown into
one, and her mainmast was seen to totter, and then to fall over the
side. The Aurora then set her courses, which had been hauled up, and
shooting ahead, took up a raking position, while the Russian was still
hampered with her wreck, and poured in grape and cannister from her
upper deck carronades to impede their labours on deck, while she
continued her destructive fire upon the hull of the enemy from the
main deck battery.
The moon now burst out from a low bank of clouds, and enabled them to
accomplish their work with more precision. In a quarter of an hour
the Russian was totally dismasted, and Captain Wilson ordered half of
his remaining ship's company to repair the damages, which had been
most severe, whilst the larboard men at quarters continued the fire
from the main deck. The enemy continued to return the fire from four
guns, two on each of her decks, which she could still make bear upon
the Aurora; but after some time even these ceased, either from the men
having deserted them, or from their being dismounted. Observing that
the fire from her antagonist had ceased, the Aurora also discontinued,
and the jolly-boat astern being still uninjured, the second lieutenant
was deputed to pull alongside of the frigate to ascertain if she had
struck.
The beams of the bright moon silvered the rippling water as the boat
shoved off; and Captain Wilson and his officers, who were still
unhurt, leant over the shattered sides of the Aurora, waiting for a
reply: suddenly the silence of the night was broken upon by a loud
splash from the bows of the Russian frigate, then about three cables'
length distant.
"What could that be?" cried Captain Wilson. "Her anchor's down. Mr
Jones, a lead over the side, and see what water we have."
Mr Jones had long been carried down below, severed in two with a round
shot--but a man leaped into the chains, and lowering down the lead
sounded in seven fathoms.
"Then I suspect he will give us more trouble yet," observed Captain
Wilson; and so indeed it proved, for the Russian captain, in reply to
the second lieutenant, had told him in English, "that he would answer
that question with his broadside," and before the boat was dropped
astern, he had warped round with the springs on his cable, and had
recommenced his fire upon the Aurora.
Captain Wilson made sail upon his ship, and sailed round and round the
anchored vessel, so as to give her two broadsides to her one, and from
the slowness with which she worked at her springs upon her cables, it
was evident that she must be now very weak handed. Still the
pertinacity and decided courage of the Russian captain convinced
Captain Wilson, that, in all probability, he would sink at his anchor
before he would haul down his colours; and not only would he lose more
of the Aurora's men, but also the Russian vessel, without he took a
more decided step. Captain Wilson, therefore, resolved to try her by
the board. Having poured in a raking fire, he stood off for a few
moments, during which he called the officers and men on deck, and
stated his intention. He then went about, and himself conning the
Aurora, ran her on board the Russian, pouring in his reserved
broadside as the vessels came into collision, and heading his men as
they leaped on the enemy's decks.
Although, as Captain Wilson had imagined, the Russian frigate had not
many men to oppose to the Aurora's, the deck was obstinately defended,
the voice and the arm of the Russian captain were to be heard and seen
everywhere, and his men, encouraged by him, were cut down by numbers
where they stood.
Our hero, who had the good fortune to be still unhurt, was for a
little while close to Captain Wilson when he boarded, and was about to
oppose his unequal force against that of the Russian captain, when he
was pulled back by the collar by Mr Hawkins, the chaplain, who rushed
in advance with a sabre in his hand. The opponents were well matched,
and it may be said that, with little interruption, a hand-to-hand
conflict ensued, for the moon lighted up the scene of carnage, and
they were well able to distinguish each other's faces. At last, the
chaplain's sword broke: he rushed in, drove the hilt into his
antagonist's face, closed with him, and they both fell down the
hatchway together. After this, the deck was gained, or rather
cleared, by the crew of the Aurora, for few could be said to have
resisted, and in a minute or two the frigate was in their possession.
The chaplain and the Russian captain were hoisted up, still clinging
to each other, both senseless from the fall, but neither of them dead,
although bleeding from several wounds.
As soon as the main deck had been cleared, Captain Wilson ordered the
hatches to be put on, and left a party on board while he hastened to
attend to the condition of his own ship and ship's company.
It was daylight before anything like order had been restored to the
decks of the Aurora; the water was still smooth, and instead of
letting go her own anchor, she had hung on with a hawser to the prize,
but her sails had been furled, her decks cleared, guns secured, and
the buckets were dashing away the blood from her planks and the
carriages of the guns, when the sun rose and shone upon them. The
numerous wounded had, by this time, been put into their hammocks,
although there were still one or two cases of amputation to be
performed.
The carpenter had repaired all shot-holes under or too near to the
water-line, and then had proceeded to sound the well of the prize; but
although her upper works had been dreadfully shattered, there was no
reason to suppose that she had received any serious injury below, and,
therefore the hatches still remained on, although a few hands were put
to the pumps to try if she made any water. It was not until the
Aurora presented a more cheerful appearance that Captain Wilson went
over to the other ship, whose deck, now that the light of heaven
enabled them to witness all the horrors even to minuteness, presented
a shocking spectacle of blood and carnage. Body after body was thrown
over; the wounded were supplied with water and such assistance as
could be rendered until the surgeons could attend them; the hatches
were then taken off, and the remainder of her crew ordered on deck;
about two hundred obeyed the summons, but the lower deck was as
crowded with killed and wounded as was the upper. For the present the
prisoners were handed over down into the fore-hold of the Aurora,
which had been prepared for their reception, and the work of
separation of the dead from the living then underwent.
After this, such repairs as were immediately necessary were made, and
a portion of the Aurora's crew, under the orders of the second
lieutenant, were sent on board to take charge of her. It was not till
the evening of the day after this night conflict that the Aurora was
in a situation to make sail. All hands were then sent on board of the
Trident, for such was the name of the Russian frigate, to fit her out
as soon as possible. Before morning,--for there was no relaxation
from their fatigue, nor was there any wish for it,--all was completed,
and the two frigates, although in a shattered condition, were prepared
to meet any common conflict with the elements. The Aurora made sail
with the Trident in tow; the hammocks were allowed to be taken down,
and the watch below permitted to repose.
In this murderous conflict the Trident had more than two hundred men
killed and wounded. The Aurora's loss had not been so great, but
still it was severe, having lost sixty-five men and officers. Among
the fallen there were Mr Jones, the master, the third lieutenant Mr
Arkwright, and two midshipmen dead. Mr Pottyfar, the first
lieutenant, was severely wounded at the commencement of the action.
Martin the master's mate, and Gascoigne, the first mortally, and the
second badly, were wounded. Our hero had also received a slight
cutlass wound, which obliged him to wear his arm, for a short time, in
a sling.
Among the ship's company who were wounded was Mesty; he had been hurt
with a splinter before the Trident was taken by the board, but had
remained on deck, and had followed our hero, watching over him and
protecting him as a father. He had done even more, for he had with
Jack thrown himself before Captain Wilson, at a time that he had
received such a blow with the flat of a sword as to stun him, and
bring him down on his knee. And Jack had taken good care that Captain
Wilson should not be ignorant, as he really would have been, of this
timely service on the part of Mesty, who certainly, although with a
great deal of "sangfroid" in his composition when in repose, was a
fiend incarnate when his blood was up.
"But you must have been with Mesty," observed Captain Wilson, "when he
did me the service."
"I was with him, sir," replied Jack, with great modesty; "but was of
very little service."
"How is your friend Gascoigne this evening?"
"Oh, not very bad, sir--he wants a glass of grog."
"And Mr Martin?" Jack shook his head.
"Why, the surgeon thinks he will do well."
"Yes, sir, and so I told Martin; but he said that it was very well to
give him hope--but that he thought otherwise."
"You must manage him, Mr Easy; tell him that he is sure of his
promotion."
"I have, sir, but he won't believe it. He never will believe it till
he has his commission signed. I really think that an acting order
would do more than the doctor can."
"Well, Mr Easy, he shall have one to-morrow morning. Have you seen Mr
Pottyfar? he, I am afraid, is very bad."
"Very bad, sir; and they say is worse every day, and yet his wound is
healthy, and ought to be doing well."
Such was the conversation between Jack and his captain, as they sat at
breakfast on the third morning after the action.
The next day Easy took down an acting order for Martin, and put it
into his hands. The mate read it over as he lay bandaged in his
hammock.
"It's only an acting order, Jack," said he; "it may not be confirmed."
Jack swore, by all the articles of war, that it would be; but Martin
replied that he was sure it never would.
"No, no," said the mate, "I knew very well that I never should be
made. If it is not confirmed, I may live; but if it is, I am sure to
die."
Everyone that went to Martin's hammock wished him joy, of his
promotion; but six days after the action, poor Martin's remains were
consigned to the deep.
The next person who followed him was Mr Pottyfar, the first
lieutenant, who had contrived, wounded as he was, to reach a packet of
the universal medicine, and had taken so many bottles before he was
found out, that he was one morning found dead in his bed, with more
than two dozen empty phials under his pillow, and by the side of his
mattress. He was not buried with his hands in his pockets, but when
sewed up in his hammock, they were, at all events, laid in the right
position.
CHAPTER XXX
Modern philanthropy, which, as usual, is the cause of much trouble and
vexation.
In three weeks the Aurora, with her prize in tow, arrived at Malta.
The wounded were sent to the hospital, and the gallant Russian captain
recovered from his wounds about the same time as Mr Hawkins, the
chaplain.
Jack, who constantly called to see the chaplain, had a great deal to
do to console him. He would shake his hands as he lay in his bed,
exclaiming against himself. "Oh," would he say, "the spirit is
willing, but the flesh is weak. That I, a man of God, as they term
me, who ought to have been down with the surgeons, whispering comfort
to the desponding, should have gone on deck (but I could not help it),
and have mixed in such a scene of slaughter. What will become of me?"
Jack attempted to console him by pointing out, that not only
chaplains, but bishops, have been known to fight in armour from time
immemorial. But Mr Hawkins's recovery, was long doubtful, from the
agitation of his mind. When he was able to walk, Jack introduced to
him the Russian captain, who was also just out of his bed.
"I am most happy to embrace so gallant an officer," said the Russian,
who recognised his antagonist, throwing his arms round the chaplain,
and giving him a kiss on both cheeks. "What is his rank?" continued
he, addressing himself to Jack, who replied, very quietly, "that he
was the ship's padre."
"The padre!" replied the captain, with surprise, as Hawkins turned
away with confusion. "The padre--par exemple! Well, I always had a
great respect for the church. Pray, sir," said he, turning to Easy,
"do your padres always head your boarders?"
"Always, sir," replied Jack; "it's a rule of the service--and the duty
of a padre to show the men the way to heaven. It's our ninety-ninth
article of war."
"You are a fighting nation," replied the Russian, bowing to Hawkins,
and continuing his walk, not exactly pleased that he had been floored
by a parson.
Mr Hawkins continued very disconsolate for some time; he then
invalided, and applied himself to his duties on shore, where he would
not be exposed to such temptations from his former habits.
As the Aurora, when she was last at Malta, had nearly exhausted the
dockyard for her repairs, she was even longer fitting out this time,
during which Captain Wilson's despatches had been received by the
Admiral, and had been acknowledged by a brig sent to Malta. The
Admiral, in reply, after complimenting him upon his gallantry and
success, desired that, as soon as he was ready, he should proceed to
Palermo with communications of importance to the authorities, and
having remained there for an answer, was again to return to Malta to
pick up such of his men as might be fit to leave the hospital, and
then join the Toulon fleet. This intelligence was soon known to our
hero, who was in ecstasies at the idea of again seeing Agnes and her
brothers. Once more the Aurora sailed away from the high crowned
rocks of Valette, and with a fine breeze dashed through the deep blue
waves.
But towards the evening the breeze increased, and they were under
double-reefed topsails. On the second day they made the coast of
Sicily, not far from where Easy and Gascoigne had been driven on
shore; the weather was then more moderate, and the sea had, to a great
degree, subsided. They therefore stood in close to the coast, as they
had not a leading wind to Palermo. As they stood in, the glasses, as
usual, were directed to land; observing the villas with which the
hills and valleys were studded, with their white fronts embowered in
orange groves.
"What is that, Gascoigne," said Easy, "under that precipice?--it looks
like a vessel."
Gascoigne turned his glass in the direction--"Yes, it is a vessel on
the rocks: by her prow she looks like a galley."
"It is a galley, sir--one of the row galleys--I can make out her bank
of oars," observed the signal-man.
This was reported to Captain Wilson, who also examined her.
"She is on the rocks, certainly," observed he; "and I think I see
people on board. Keep her away a point, quarter-master."
The Aurora was now steered right for the vessel, and in the course of
an hour was not more than a mile from her. Their suppositions were
correct--it was one of the Sicilian government galleys bilged on the
rocks, and they now perceived that there were people on board of her,
making signals with their shirts and pieces of linen.
"They must be the galley-slaves; for I perceive that they do not one
of them change their positions: the galley must have been abandoned by
their officers and seamen, and the slaves left to perish."
"That's very hard," observed Jack to Gascoigne; "they were condemned
to the galleys, but not to death."
"They will not have much mercy from the waves," replied Gascoigne;
"they will all be in kingdom come to-morrow morning, if the breeze
comes more on the land. We have already come up two points this
forenoon."
Although Captain Wilson did not join in this conversation, which he
overheard as he stood on the forecastle gun, with his glass over the
hammocks, it appears he was of the same opinion: but he demurred: he
had to choose between allowing so many of his fellow creatures to
perish miserably, or to let loose upon society a set of miscreants,
who would again enter a course of crime until they were re-captured,
and, by so doing, probably displease the Sicilian authorities. After
some little reflection he resolved that he would take his chance of
the latter. The Aurora was hove-to in stays, and the two cutters
ordered to be lowered down, and the boat's crew to be armed.
"Mr Easy, do you take one cutter, and the armourers; pull on board of
the galley, release those people, and land them in small divisions. Mr
Gascoigne, you will take the other to assist Mr Easy, and when he
lands them in his boat, you will pull by hit side ready to act, in
case of any hostile attempt on the part of the scoundrels; for we must
not expect gratitude: of course, land them at the nearest safe spot
for debarkation."
In pursuance of these orders, our two midshipmen pulled away to the
vessel. They found her fixed hard upon the rocks, which had pierced
her slight timbers, and, as they had supposed, the respectable part of
her crew, with the commander, had taken to the boats, leaving the
galley-slaves to their fate. She pulled fifty oars, but had only
thirty-six manned. These oars were forty feet long, and ran in from
the thole-pin with a loom six feet long, each manned by four slaves,
who were chained to their seat before it, by a running chain made fast
by a padlock in amidships. A plank, of two feet wide, ran fore and
aft the vessel between the two banks of oars, for the boatswain to
apply the lash to those who did not sufficiently exert themselves.
"Viva los Inglesos!" cried the galley-slaves, as Easy climbed up over
the quarter of the vessel.
"I say, Ned, did you ever see such a precious set of villains?"
observed Easy, as he surveyed the faces of the men who were chained.
"No," replied Gascoigne; "and I think if the captain had seen them as
we have, that he would have left them where they were."
"I don't know--but, however, our orders are positive. Armourer, knock
off all the padlocks, beginning aft; when we have a cargo we will land
them. How many are there?--twelve dozen--twelve dozen villains to let
loose upon society. I have a great mind to go on board again and
report my opinion to the captain--one hundred and forty-four villains,
who all deserve hanging--for drowning is too good for them."
"Our orders are to liberate them, Jack."
"Yes; but I should like to argue this point with Captain Wilson."
"They'll send after them fast enough, Jack, and they'll all be in
limbo again before long," replied Gascoigne.
"Well, I suppose we must obey orders; but it goes against my
conscience to save such villainous-looking rascals. Armourer, hammer
away."
The armourer, who with the seamen appeared very much of Jack's
opinion, and had not commenced his work, now struck off the padlocks
one by one with his sledgehammer. As soon as they were released the
slaves were ordered into the cutter, and when it was sufficiently
loaded Jack shoved off, followed by Gascoigne as guard, and landed
them at the point about a cable's length distant. It required six
trips before they were all landed; the last cargo were on shore, and
Easy was desiring the men to shove off, when one of the galleriens
turned round, and cried out to Jack in a mocking tone, "Addio, signor,
a reveder la." Jack started, stared, and, in the squalid, naked wretch
who addressed him, he recognised Don Silvio!
"I will acquaint Don Rebiera of your arrival, signor," said the
miscreant, springing up the rocks, and mixing with the rest, who now
commenced hooting and laughing at their preservers.
"Ned," observed Easy to Gascoigne, "we have let that rascal loose."
"More's the pity," replied Gascoigne; "but we have only obeyed
orders."
"It can't be helped, but I've a notion there will be some
mischief out of this."
"We obeyed orders," replied Gascoigne.
"We've let the rascals loose not ten miles from Don Rebiera's."
"Obeyed orders, Jack."
"With a whole gang to back him, if he goes there."
"Orders, Jack."
"Agnes at his mercy--"
"Captain's orders, Jack."
"I shall argue this point when I go on board," replied Jack.
"Too late, Jack."
"Yes," replied Easy, sinking down on the stem sheets with a look of
despair. "Give way, my lads, give way."
Jack returned on board, and reported what he had done: also that Don
Silvio was among those liberated; and he ventured to mention his fears
of what might take place from their contiguity to the house of Don
Rebiera. Captain Wilson bit his lips: he felt that his philanthropy
had induced him to act without his usual prudence.
"I have done a rash thing, Mr Easy, I am afraid. I should have taken
them all on board and delivered them up to the authorities. I wish I
had thought of that before. We must get to Palermo as fast as we can,
and have the troops sent after these miscreants. Hands 'bout ship,
fill the main yard."
The wind had veered round, and the Aurora was now able to lay up clear
of the island of Maritimo. The next morning she anchored in Palermo
Roads and gave immediate notice to the authorities, who, wishing
Captain Wilson's philanthropy at the devil, immediately despatched a
large body of troops in quest of the liberated malefactors. Captain
Wilson, feeling for Jack's anxiety about his friends, called him over
to him on deck, and gave him and Gascoigne permission to go on shore.
"Will you allow me to take Mesty with me, sir, if you please?" said
Jack.
"Yes, Mr Easy; but recollect that, even with Mesty, you are no
match for one hundred and fifty men; so be prudent. I send you to
relieve your anxiety, not to run into danger."
"Of course, sir," replied Jack, touching his hat, and walking away
quietly till he came to the hatchway, when he darted down like a shot,
and was immediately occupied with his preparations.
In half an hour our two midshipmen, with Mesty, had landed, and
proceeded to the inn where they had put up before: they were armed up
to the teeth. Their first inquiries were for Don Philip and his
brother.
"Both on leave of absence," replied the landlord, "and staying with
Don Rebiera."
"That's some comfort," thought Jack. "Now we must get horses as fast
as we can. Mesty, can you ride?"
"By all de power, can I ride, Massa Easy; suppose you ride Kentucky
horse, you ride anyting."
In half an hour four horses and a guide were procured, and at eight
o'clock in the morning the party set off in the direction of Don
Rebiera's country seat.
They had not ridden more than six miles when they came up with one of
the detachments sent out in pursuit of the liberated criminals. Our
hero recognised the commanding officer as an old acquaintance, and
imparting to him the release of Don Silvio, and his fears upon Don
Rebiera's account, begged him to direct his attention that way.
"Corpo di Bacco--you are right, Signor Mid," replied the officer, "but
Don Philip is there, and his brother too, I believe. I will be there
by ten o'clock to-morrow morning; we will march almost the whole
night."
"They have no arms," observed Easy.
"No, but they will soon get them: they will go to some small town in a
body, plunder it, and then seek the protection of the mountains. Your
captain has given us a pretty job."
Jack exchanged a few more words, and then, excusing himself on account
of his haste, put the spurs to his horse and regained his own party,
who now proceeded at a rapid pace.
"O signor!" said the guide, "we shall kill the horses."
"I'll pay for them," said Jack.
"Yes, but we shall kill them before we get there, Jack," replied
Gascoigne, "and have to walk the rest of the way."
"Very true, Ned; let's pull up, and give them their wind."
"By de holy poker, Massa Easy, but my shirt stick to my ribs," cried
Mesty, whose black face was hung with dewdrops from their rapid
course.
"Never mind, Mesty." It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when
they arrived at the seat of Don Rebiera. Jack threw himself off his
jaded steed, and hastened into the house, followed by Gascoigne. They
found the whole family collected in the large sitting-room, quite
ignorant of any danger threatening them, and equally astonished and
pleased at the arrival of their old friends. Jack flew to Agnes, who
screamed when she saw him, and felt so giddy afterwards that he was
obliged to support her. Having seated her again, he was kindly
greeted by the old people and the two young officers. After a few
minutes dedicated to mutual inquiries, our hero stated the cause of
their expeditious arrival.
"Don Silvio with one hundred and fifty galleriens, let loose on the
coast yesterday afternoon!" exclaimed Don Rebiera; "you are right, I
only wonder they were not here last night. But I expect Pedro from
the town; he has gone down with a load of wine: he will bring us
intelligence."
"At all events, we must be prepared," said Don Philip; "the troops,
you say, will be here to-morrow morning."
"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the ladies, in a breath.
"How many can we muster?" said Gascoigne.
"We have five men here, or we shall have by the evening," replied Don
Philip--"all, I think, good men--my father, my brother, and myself."
"We are three--four with the guide, whom I know nothing about."
"Twelve in all--not one too many; but I think that now we are
prepared, if they attack, we can hold out till the morning."
"Had we not better send the ladies away?" said Jack.
"Who is to escort them?" replied Don Philip; "we shall only weaken our
force; besides, they may fall into the miscreants' hands."
"Shall we all leave the house together? they can but plunder it,"
observed Don Rebiera.
"Still, we may be intercepted by them, and our whole force will be
nothing against so many," observed Don Philip, "if we are without
defence, whereas in the house we shall have an advantage."
"E'vero," replied Don Rebiera, thoughtfully; "then let us prepare, for
depend upon it Don Silvio will not lose such an opportunity to wreak
his vengeance. He will be here to-night: I only wonder he has not
been here with his companions before. However, Pedro will arrive in
two hours."
"We must now see what means we have of defence," said Philip. "Come,
brother--will you come, sir?"
CHAPTER XXXI
A regular set-to, in which the parties beaten are not knocked down,
but rise higher and higher at each discomfiture--Nothing but the
troops could have prevented them from going up to heaven.
Don Rebiera and his two sons quitted the room, Gascoigne entered into
conversation with the senora, while Easy took this opportunity of
addressing Agnes. He had been too much occupied with the consultation
to pay her much attention before. He had spoken, with his eyes fixed
upon her, and had been surprised at the improvement which had taken
place in less than a year. He now went to her, and asked her, in a
low voice, "whether she had received his letter?"
"Oh, yes!" replied she, colouring.
"And were you angry with what I said, Agnes?" in a low tone.
"No," replied she, casting her eyes down on the floor.
"I repeat now what I said, Agnes--I have never forgotten you."
"But--"
"But what?"
"Father Thomaso."
"What of him?"
"He never will--"
"Will what?"
"You are a heretic, he says."
"Tell him to mind his own business."
"He has great influence with my father and mother."
"Your brothers are on our side."
"I know that, but there will be great difficulty. Our religion is not
the same. He must talk to you--he will convert you."
"We'll argue that point, Agnes. I will convert him if he has common
sense; if not, it's no use arguing with him. Where is he?"
"He will soon be at home."
"Tell me, Agnes, if you had your own will, would you marry me?"
"I don't know; I have never seen anyone I liked so well."
"Is that all?"
"Is it not enough for a maiden to say?" replied Agnes, raising her
eyes, and looking reproachfully. "Signor, let me go, here comes my
father."
Notwithstanding, Jack cast his eyes to the window, where Gascoigne and
the senora were in converse, and, perceiving that the old lady's back
was turned, he pressed Agnes to his bosom before he released her. The
gentlemen then returned with all the fire-arms and destructive weapons
they could collect.
"We have enough," observed Don Philip, "to arm all the people we have
with us."
"And we are well armed," replied Jack, who had left Agnes standing
alone. "What now are your plans?"
"Those we must now consult about. It appears--" but at this moment the
conversation was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Pedro, who had
been despatched to the town with the load of wine. He rushed in,
flurried and heated, with his red cap in his hand.
"How now, Pedro, back so early!"
"O signor!" exclaimed the man--"they have taken the cart and the wine,
and have drawn it away, up to the mountains."
"Who?" inquired Don Rebiera.
"The galley-slaves who have been let loose--and by the body of our
blessed saint, they have done pretty mischief--they have broken into
the houses, robbed everything--murdered many--clothed themselves with
the best--collected all the arms, provisions, and wine they could lay
their hands on, and have marched away into the mountains. This took
place last night. As I was coming down within a mile of the town,
they met me with my loaded cart, and they turned the bullocks round
and drove them away along with the rest. By the blessed Virgin! but
they are stained with blood, but not altogether of men, for they have
cut up some of the oxen. I heard this from one of the herdsmen, but he
too fled, and could not tell me more. But, signor, I heard them
mention your name."
"I have no doubt of it," replied Don Rebiera. "As for the wine, I
only hope they will drink too much of it to-night. But, Pedro, they
will be here, and we must defend ourselves--so call the men together;
I must speak to them."
"We shall never see the bullocks again," observed Pedro, mournfully.
"No: but we shall never see one another again, if we do not take care.
I have information they come here to-night."
"Holy Saint Francis! and they say there are a thousand of them."
"Not
quite so many, to my knowledge," observed Jack. "They told me that a
great many were killed in their attack upon the town, before they
mastered it."
"So much the better. Go now, Pedro, drink a cup of wine, and then
call the other men."
The house was barricaded as well as circumstances would permit; the
first story was also made a fortress by loading the landing place with
armoires and chests of drawers. The upper story, or attic, if it
might be so called, was defended in the same way, that they might
retreat from one to the other if the doors were forced.
It was eight o'clock in the evening before all was ready, and they
were still occupied with the last defence, under the superintendence
of Mesty, who showed himself an able engineer, when they heard the
sound of an approaching multitude. They looked out of one of the
windows, and perceived the house surrounded by the galley-slaves, in
number apparently about a hundred. They were all dressed in a most
fantastic manner with whatever they could pick up: some had fire-arms,
but the most of them were supplied with only swords or knives. With
them came also their cortege of plunder: carts of various
descriptions, loaded with provisions of all sorts, and wine; women
lashed down with ropes, sails from the vessels and boats to supply
them with covering in the mountains, hay and straw, and mattresses.
Their plunder appeared to be well chosen for their exigencies. To the
carts were tied a variety of cattle, intended to accompany them to
their retreat. They all appeared to be under a leader, who was
issuing directions--that leader was soon recognised by those in the
house to be Don Silvio.
"Massa Easy, you show me dat man," said Mesty, when he heard the
conversation between Easy and the Rebieras; "only let me know him."
"Do you see him there, Mesty, walking down in front of those men? He
has a musket in his hand, a jacket with silver buttons, and white
trousers."
"Yes, Massa Easy, me see him well--let me look little more--dat
enough."
The galley-slaves appeared to be very anxious to surround the house
that no one should escape, and Don Silvio was arranging the men.
"Ned," said Jack, "let us show him that we are here. He said that he
would acquaint Don Rebiera with our arrival--let us prove to him that
he is too late."
"It would not be a bad plan," replied Gascoigne; "if it were possible
that these fellows had any gratitude among them, some of them might
relent at the idea of attacking those who saved them."
"Not a bit; but it will prove to them that there are more in the house
than they think for; and we can frighten some of them by telling them
that the soldiers are near at hand."
Jack immediately threw up the casement, and called out in a loud
voice, "Don Silvio! galley-slave! Don Silvio!"
The party hailed turned round, and beheld Jack, Gascoigne, and Mesty,
standing at the window of the upper floor.
"We have saved you the trouble of announcing us," called out
Gascoigne. "We are here to receive you."
"And in three hours the troops will be here, so you must be quick, Don
Silvio," continued Jack.
"A reveder la," continued Gascoigne, letting fly his pistol at Don
Silvio.
The window was then immediately closed. The appearance of our heroes,
and their communication of the speedy arrival of the troops, was not
without effect. The criminals trembled at the idea; Don Silvio was
mad with rage he pointed out to the men the necessity of immediate
attack--the improbability of the troops arriving so soon, and the
wealth which he expected was locked up by Don Rebiera in his mansion.
This rallied them, and they advanced to the doors, which they
attempted to force without success, losing several men by the
occasional fire from those within the house. Finding their efforts,
after half an hour's repeated attempts, to be useless, they retreated,
and then bringing up a long piece of timber, which required sixty men
to carry it, they ran with it against the door, and the weight and
impetus of the timber drove it off its hinges, and an entrance was
obtained; by this time it was dark, the lower story had been
abandoned, but the barricade at the head of the stairs opposed their
progress. Convenient loop-holes had been prepared by the defenders,
who now opened a smart fire upon the assailants, the latter having no
means of returning it effectually, had they had ammunition for their
muskets, which fortunately they had not been able to procure. The
combat now became fierce, and the galley-slaves were several times
repulsed with great loss during a contest of two hours; but,
encouraged by Don Silvio, and refreshed by repeated draughts of wine,
they continued by degrees removing the barriers opposed to them.
"We shall have to retreat," exclaimed Don Rebiera; "very soon they
will have torn down all. What do you think, Signor Easy?"
"Hold this as long as we can. How are we off for ammunition?"
"Plenty as yet--plenty to last for six hours, I think."
"What do you say, Mesty?"
"By holy St Patrig, I say hold out here--they got no fire-arms and we
ab um at arm-length."
This decision was the occasion of the first defence being held for two
hours more, an occasional relief being afforded by the retreat of the
convicts to the covered carts.
At last it was evident that the barricade was no longer tenable, for
the heavy pieces of furniture they had heaped up to oppose entrance,
were completely hammered to fragments by poles brought up by the
assailants, and used as battering-rams. The retreat was sounded; they
all hastened to the other story, where the ladies were already placed,
and the galley-slaves were soon in possession of the first floor--
exasperated by the defence, mad with wine and victory, but finding
nothing.
Again was the attack made upon the second landing, but, as the stairs
were now narrower, and their defences stronger in proportion, they,
for a long while, gained no advantage. On the contrary, many of their
men were wounded, and taken down below.
The darkness of the night prevented both parties from seeing
distinctly, which was rather in favour of the assailants. Many
climbed over the fortress of piled-up furniture, and were killed as
soon as they appeared on the other side, and, at last, the only
ammunition used was against those who made this rash attempt. For
four long hours did this assault and defence continue, until daylight
came, and then the plan of assault was altered: they again brought up
the poles, hammered the pieces of furniture into fragments, and gained
ground. The defenders were worn out with fatigue, but flinched not;
they knew that their lives, and the lives of those dearest to them,
were at stake, and they never relaxed their exertions; still the
criminals, with Silvio at their head, progressed, the distance between
the parties gradually decreased, and there was but one massive chest
of drawers now defending the landing-place, and over which there was a
constant succession of blows from long poles and cutlasses, returned
with the bullets from their pistols.
"We must now fight for our lives," exclaimed Gascoigne to Easy, "for
what else can we do?"
"Do?--get on the roof and fight there, then," replied Jack.
"By-the-bye, that's well thought of, Jack," said Gascoigne. "Mesty, up
and see if there is any place we can retreat to in case of need."
Mesty hastened to obey, and soon returned with a report that there was
a trap-door leading into the loft under the roof, and that they could
draw the ladder up after them.
"Then we may laugh at them," cried Jack. "Mesty, stay here while I
and Gascoigne assist the ladies up," explaining to the Rebieras and to
their domestics why they went.
Easy and Gascoigne hastened to the signora and Agnes, conducted them
up the ladder into the loft, and requested them to have no fear; they
then returned to the defences on the stairs, and joined their
companions. They found them hard pressed, and that there was little
chance of holding out much longer; but the stairs were narrow, and the
assailants could not bring their force against them. But now, as the
defences were nearly destroyed, although the convicts could not reach
them with their knives, they brought up a large supply of heavy
stones, which they threw with great force and execution. Two of Don
Rebiera's men and Don Martin were struck down, and this new weapon
proved most fatal.
"We must retreat, Jack," said Gascoigne; "the stones can do no harm
where we are going to. What think you, Don Philip?"
"I agree with you; let those who are wounded be first carried up, and
then we will follow."
This was effected, and as soon as the wounded men were carried up the
ladder, and the arms taken up to prevent their falling into the hands
of the assailants, for they were now of little use to them, the
ammunition being exhausted, the whole body went into the large room
which contained the trap-door of the loft, and, as soon as they were
up, they drew the ladder after them. They had hardly effected this,
when they were followed with the yells and shouting of the
galley-slaves, who had passed the last barriers, and thought
themselves sure of their prey: but they were disappointed--they found
them more secure than ever.
Nothing could exceed the rage of Don Silvio at the protracted
resistance of the party, and the security of their retreat. To get at
them was impossible, so he determined to set fire to the room, and
suffocate them, if he could do no otherwise. He gave his directions
to his men, who rushed down for straw, but in so doing, he carelessly
passed under the trap-door, and Mesty, who had carried up with him two
or three of the stones, dashed one down on the head of Don Silvio, who
fell immediately. He was carried away, but his orders were put in
execution; the room was filled with straw and fodder, and lighted. The
effects were soon felt: the trap-door had been shut, but the heat and
smoke burst through; after a time, the planks and rafters took fire,
and their situation was terrible. A small trap-window in the roof, on
the side of the house, was knocked open, and gave them a temporary
relief; but now the rafters burned and crackled, and the smoke burst
on them in thick columns. They could not see, and with difficulty
could breathe. Fortunately the room below that which had been fired
was but one out of four on the attics, and, as the loft they were in
spread over the whole of the roof, they were able to remove far from
it. The house was slated with massive slate of some hundred weights
each, and it was not found possible to remove them so as to give air
although frequent attempts were made. Donna Rebiera sank exhausted in
the arms of her husband, and Agnes fell into those of our hero, who,
enveloped in the smoke, kissed her again and again; and she, poor
girl, thinking that they must all inevitably perish, made no scruple,
in what she supposed her last moment, of returning these proofs of her
ardent attachment.
"Massy Easy, help me here,--Massa Gascoigne come here. Now heab wid
all your might: when we get one off we get plenty."
Summoned by Mesty, Jack and Gascoigne put their shoulders to one of
the lower slates; it yielded, was disengaged, and slid down with a
loud rattling below. The ladies were brought to it, and their heads
put outside; they soon recovered; and now that they had removed one,
they found no difficulty in removing others. In a few minutes they
were all with their heads in the open air, but still the house was on
fire below, and they had no chance of escape. It was while they were
debating upon that point, and consulting as to their chance of safety,
that a breeze of wind wafted the smoke that issued from the roof away
from them, and they beheld the detachment of troops making up to the
house; a loud cheer was given, and attracted the notice of the
soldiers. They perceived Easy and his companions; the house was
surrounded and entered in an instant.
The galley-slaves who were in the house, searching for the treasure
reported by Don Silvio to be concealed, were captured or killed, and
in five minutes the troops had possession. But how to assist those
above was the difficulty. The room below was in flames, and burning
fiercely. There were no ladders that could reach so high, and there
were no means of getting to them. The commandant made signs from
below, as if to ask what he was to do.
"I see no chance," observed Don Philip, mournfully. "Easy, my dear
fellow, and you, Gascoigne, I am sorry that the feuds of our family
should have brought you to such a dreadful death; but what can be
done?"
"I don't know," replied Jack, "unless we could get ropes."
"You quite sure, Massy Easy, that all galley rascals below gone?"
asked Mesty.
"Yes," replied Easy, "you may see that; look at some of them bound
there, under charge of the soldiers."
"Den, sar, I tink it high time we go too."
"So do I, Mesty; but how?"
"How? stop a little. Come, help me, Massy Easy; dis board" (for the
loft was floored) "is loose; come help, all of you."
They all went, and with united strength pulled up the board. "Now
strike like hell!--and drive down de plaster," said Mesty, commencing
the operation.
In a few minutes they had beaten an opening into one of the rooms
below not on fire, pulled up another board, and Mesty having fetched
the ladder, they all descended in safety, and, to the astonishment of
the commandant of the troops, walked out of the door of the house,
those who had been stunned with the stones having so far recovered as
to require little assistance.
The soldiers shouted as they saw them appear, supporting the females.
The commanding officer, who was an intimate friend of Don Philip, flew
to his arms. The prisoners were carefully examined by Mesty, and Don
Silvio was not among them. He might, however, be among the dead who
were left in the house, which now began to burn furiously. The
galley-slaves who were captured amounted in number to forty-seven.
Their dead they could not count. The major part of the plunder, and
the carts, were still where they had been drawn up.
As soon as the culprits had been secured, the attention of the troops
was directed to putting out the flames, but their attempts were
ineffectual; the mansion was burned to the bare walls, and but little
of the furniture saved; indeed, the major part of it had been
destroyed in the attack made by Don Silvio and his adherents.
Leaving directions with Pedro and his people, that the property
collected by the miscreants should be restored to the owners, Don
Rebiera ordered the horses, and with the whole party put himself under
the protection of the troops, who, as soon as they had been refreshed,
and taken some repose, bent their way back to Palermo with the
galley-slaves, bound and linked together in a long double row.
They halted when they had gone half-way, and remained for the night.
The next day at noon, Don Rebiera and his family were once more in
their palazzo, and our two midshipmen and Mesty took their leave, and
repaired on board to make themselves a little less like
chimney-sweepers.
Captain Wilson was not out of the ship. Jack made his report, and
then went down below, very much pleased at what had passed, especially
as he would have another long yarn for the Governor on his return to
Malta.
CHAPTER XXXII
In which our hero and Gascoigne ought to be ashamed of themselves, and
did feel what might be called midshipmite compunction.
The Aurora continued three weeks at Palermo, during which the most
active search had been made for the remainder of the galley-slaves,
and some few had been captured, but still Don Silvio, a considerable
number, were at large; and it was said that they had retired to the
fastnesses in the mountains. Our hero was constantly on shore at Don
Rebiera's house, and, after what had passed, he was now looked upon as
soon to become a member of the family. The difference of religion was
overlooked by Don Rebiera and the relations--by all but the confessor,
Father Thomaso, who now began to agitate and fulminate into the ears
of the Donna Rebiera all the pains and penalties attending heretical
connection, such as excommunication and utter damnation. The effects
of his remonstrances were soon visible, and Jack found that there was
constraint on the part of the old lady, tears on the part of Agnes,
and all father confessors heartily wished at the devil ten times a
day, on the part of Don Philip and his brother. At last he wormed the
truth out of Agnes, who told her tale, and wept bitterly.
"Ned, I don't much like the appearance of things," observed Jack; "I
must get rid of that Father Thomaso."
"You'll find that rather difficult," observed Gascoigne; "besides, if
you were rid of him you would have his place filled up with another."
"He has frightened that poor old woman into the dismals, and she has
the pains of purgatory on her already. I shall go and talk to Mesty."
"How can Mesty help you?"
"I don't know, but you can't; so, for want of better advice, I'll try
the Ashantee." Our hero went to Mesty, and laid the difficult affair
open to him.
"I see," said Mesty, showing his filed teeth, "you want him skull."
"No, I don't, Mesty; but I want him out of the way."
"How that possible, Massy Easy?--ship sail day after to-morrow. Now
'pose I ab time, I soon manage all dat. Stop a little."
"Confound it! but there's no stopping," replied Jack.
"Suppose, Massy Easy, you get leave go on shore--not come off again."
"That will be deserting, Mesty."
"By holy poker, I ab it--you go on shore and break your leg."
"Break my leg!--break my leave, you mean?"
"No, Massy Easy--you break your leg--den captain leave you shore, and
leave me to take care of you."
"But why should I break my leg, and how am I to break my leg?"
"Only pretend break leg, Massa Easy. Go talk Massa Don Philip, he
manage all dat. Suppose man break his leg in seven pieces, it is not
possible to take him board."
"Seven pieces, Mesty! that's rather too many. However, I'll think of
this."
Jack then went back and consulted Gascoigne, who approved of Mesty's
advice, and thought the scheme feasible.
"If we could only pretend that we were thrown out of a caricola, you
break your leg, a compound fracture of course, I break my arm--both
left on shore at sick quarters, with Mesty to take care of us."
"Capital, indeed," replied Jack; "I really would not mind it if it
really took place; at all events we'll overturn the caricola."
"But shall we get leave the last day?"
"Yes, it's two days since I have been on shore, for I have not liked
to go to Don Rebiera's since what Agnes told me. Besides, my clothes
are all on shore, and that will be an excuse for a few hours."
Our two midshipmen applied for leave the next morning to be off in the
afternoon. The first lieutenant gave them permission. They hastened
to the hotel, sent for Don Philip, and made him a party to their plan.
He readily promised his assistance, for he had resolved that our hero
should marry his sister, and was fearful of the effect of his absence,
coupled with Friar Thomaso's influence over his mother. He went to the
surgeon of his regiment, who immediately entered into the scheme.
Our two midshipmen got into a caricola, rattled up and down the
streets, and perceiving Captain Wilson at his window, flogged the
horse into a gallop; when abreast of the barracks Jack ran the wheel
against a bank, and threw himself and Gascoigne out. Midshipmen are
never hurt by these accidents, but fortunately for the success of the
enterprise their faces were cut and bruised. Don Philip was standing
by: he called the men to pick up our two scamps, carried them into the
barracks, and sent for the surgeons, who undressed them, put Jack's
left leg into a multitude of splints, and did the same to Gascoigne's
arm. They were then put to bed, their contused faces, with the blood,
left "in statu quo," while Don Philip sent an orderly, as from the
commandant, to Captain Wilson, to acquaint him that two of his
officers had been thrown out of a caricola, and were lying dangerously
hurt at the barracks.
"Good heavens, it must be Mr Easy and Mr Gascoigne!" said Captain
Wilson, when the intelligence was communicated; "I saw them galloping
down the street like two madmen just now. Coxswain, take the gig on
board and then tell the surgeon to come on shore immediately, and
bring him up to me at the barracks."
Captain Wilson then put on his hat, buckled on his sword, and hastened
to ascertain the extent of the injury. Don Philip kept out of the
way, but the captain was ushered into the room by one of the officers,
where he found, in two beds, our two midshipmen stretched out, the
surgeon of the forces and the regimental surgeon in consultation
between them, while attendants were standing by each bed with
restoratives. The medical gentlemen saluted Captain Wilson, and
looked very grave, talked about fractures, contusions, injuries, in
the most interminable manner--hoped that Mr Easy would recover--but
had doubts. The other gentleman might do well with care; that is, so
far as his arm was concerned, but there appeared to be a concussion of
the brain. Captain Wilson looked at the cut and blood-smeared faces
of the two young men, and waited with anxiety the arrival of his own
surgeon, who came at last, puffing with the haste he had made, and
received the report of the brothers of the faculty.
The leg of Mr Easy fractured in two places--had been set--bone
protruding--impossible to move him. Gascoigne, arm, compound
fracture--contusion of the brain not certain. Now that all this would
have been discovered to be false if the surgeon had been able to
examine, is true; but how could he not credit the surgeon of the
forces and the regimental surgeon, and how could he put the young men
to fresh tortures by removing splints and unsetting limbs? Politeness,
if nothing else, prevented his so doing, for it would have been as
much as to say that either he did not credit their report, or that he
doubted their skill. He looked at our hero and his companion, who
kept their eyes closed, and breathed heavily with their mouths open,
put on a grave face, as well as his brothers in the art, and reported
to Captain Wilson.
"But when can they be moved, Mr Daly?" inquired the latter; "I cannot
wait; we must sail to-morrow, or the next day at the farthest."
The surgeon, as in duty bound, put the question to the others, who
replied that there would be great risk in moving before the fever,
which might be expected the next day, and which might last ten days;
but that Captain Wilson had better not think of removing them, as they
should have every care and attention where they were, and could rejoin
the ship at Malta. Mr Daly, the surgeon, agreed that this would be
the most prudent step, and Captain Wilson then gave his consent.
That being settled, he walked up to the bed of Gascoigne, and spoke to
him; but Gascoigne knew that he was to have a concussion of the brain,
and he made no reply, nor gave any signs of knowing that Captain
Wilson was near him. He then went to our hero, who, at the sound of
Captain Wilson's voice, slowly opened his eyes without moving his
head, and appeared to recognise him.
"Are you in much pain, Easy?" said the captain, kindly. Easy closed
his eyes again, and murmured, "Mesty, Mesty!"
"He wants his servant, the ship's corporal, sir," said the surgeon.
"Well," replied Captain Wilson, "he had better have him: he is a
faithful fellow, and will nurse him well. When you go on board, Mr
Daly, desire the first lieutenant to send Mesty on shore with Mr
Gascoigne's and Mr Easy's chests, and his own bag and hammock. Good
heavens! I would not for a thousand pounds that this accident had
occurred. Poor foolish boys--they run in couples, and if one's in a
scrape the other is sure to share it. Gentlemen, I return you many
thanks for your kindness, and I must accept of your promised care for
my unfortunate officers. I sail to-morrow at daylight. You will
oblige me by informing their friends, the Rebieras, of their
mischance, as I am sure they will contribute all they can to their
comfort." So saying, Captain Wilson bowed and quitted the room,
followed by the surgeon.
As soon as the door was closed the two midshipmen turned their heads
round and looked at each other, but they were afraid to speak at
first, in case of the return of the surgeon. As soon as it was
announced to them that Captain Wilson and Mr Daly were outside the
barrack-gate, our hero commenced--"Do you know, Ned, that my
conscience smites me, and if it had not been that I should have
betrayed those who wish to oblige us, when poor Captain Wilson
appeared so much hurt and annoyed at our accident, I was very near
getting up and telling him of the imposition, to relieve his mind."
"I agree with you, Jack, and I felt much the same--but what's done
cannot be undone. We must now keep up the imposition for the sake of
those who, to help us, have deceived him."
"I don't think that you would find an English surgeon who would have
consented to such an imposition."
"No, that is certain; but after all, it is an imposition that has hurt
nobody."
"Oh, I do not wish to moralise--but I repent of my share in the
deceit; and had it to be done over again I would not consent to it."
"Not even for----? but I won't mention her name in barracks."
"I don't know," replied Jack; "but let's say no more about it, and
thank these gentlemen for their kindness."
"Yes, but we must keep it up until we see the Aurora under all sail."
"And longer too," replied Jack; "we must not let the affair get wind
even on shore. We must not recover quickly, but still appear to
recover. Don Rebiera and his wife must be deceived. I have a plot in
my head, but I cannot work it out clear till I see Mesty."
Don Philip now came in. He had seen Captain Wilson, who had requested
him to look after the two invalids, and stated his intention to sail
the next morning. They consulted with him, and it was agreed that no
one should be acquainted with the real fact but his brother Martin,
and that all Palermo should be as much deceived as Captain Wilson, for
if not, it would put Father Thomaso on the "qui vive," and make him
fulminate more than ever. Our midshipmen ate an excellent dinner, and
then remained in bed conversing till it was time to go to sleep; but
long before that, Mesty had made his appearance with their clothes.
The eyes of the Ashantee said all that was necessary--he never spoke a
word, but unlashed his hammock and lay down in a corner, and they were
soon all three asleep.
The next morning Captain Wilson called to ascertain how our hero and
his companion were, but the room had been darkened, and he could not
see their faces plainly. Easy thanked him for his kindness in
allowing Mesty to attend them, and having received his orders as to
their joining the ship as soon as they recovered, and having promised
to be very cautious in their behaviour and keep out of all scrapes, he
wished them a speedy recovery, and departed.
In little more than half an hour afterwards, Mesty, who had been
peeping out of the shutters, suddenly threw them open with a loud
laugh.
The Aurora was under way, with studding sails below and aloft standing
out of the roads. Jack and Gascoigne got up, threw off the splints,
and danced about in their shirts. As soon as they were quiet again,
Mesty said in a grave tone, "Den why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?"
"Very true, Mesty, I've asked myself that question often enough
lately; because I'm a fool, I suppose."
"And I, because I can't help it," replied Gascoigne; "never mind, we
are on shore now, and I look for a famous cruise."
"But first we must see what the ground is we are to cruise on,"
replied Jack; "so, Mesty, let us have a palaver, as they say in your
country."
The two midshipmen got into their beds, and Mesty sat on the chest
between them, looking as grave as a judge. The question was, how to
get rid of the padre Thomaso. Was he to be thrown over the mole-head
to the fishes--or his skull broke--was Mesty's knife to be resorted
to--was he to be kidnapped or poisoned--or were fair means to be
employed--persuasion, bribery? Every one knows how difficult it is to
get rid of a priest.
As our hero and Gascoigne were not Italians, they thought that bribery
would be the more English-like way of doing the thing; so they
composed a letter, to be delivered by Mesty to the friar, in which
Jack offered to Father Thomaso the moderate sum of one thousand
dollars, provided he would allow the marriage to proceed, and not
frighten the old lady with ecclesiastical squibs and crackers.
As Mesty was often on shore with Jack, and knew the friar very well by
sight, it was agreed that the letter should be confided to his charge;
but as it was not consistent that a person in such a state as our hero
was represented to be should sit up and write letters, the delivery
was deferred for a few days, when after waiting that time, Mesty
delivered the letter to the friar, and made signs that he was to take
back the answer. The friar beckoned him that he was to accompany him
to his room, where he read the letter, and then again made signs to
him to follow him. The friar led the way to his monastery, and as
soon as Mesty was in his cell, he summoned another who could speak
English to act as interpreter.
"Is your master recovering?"
"Yes," replied Mesty, "he is at present doing well."
"Have you served him long?"
"No," replied Mesty.
"Are you very fond of him? does he treat you well, give you plenty of
money?"
At these questions, the artful black conceived that there was
something in the wind, and he therefore very quietly replied, "I do
not care much for him."
The friar fixed his keen eye upon Mesty, and perceived there was a
savage look about the black, from which he augured that he was a man
who would suit his purpose.
"Your master offers me a thousand dollars; would you wish to gain this
money for yourself?"
Mesty grinned, and showed his sharp-filed teeth. "It would make me a
rich man in my own country."
"It would," replied the friar; "now, you shall have it, if you will
only give your master a small powder."
"I understand," replied Mesty; "hab those things in my country."
"Well--do you consent?--if so, I will write the letter to get the
money."
"Suppose they find me out?" replied Mesty.
"You will be safe, and you shall be sent away as soon as possible--
say, will you consent?"
"The whole thousand dollars?"
"Every one of them."
"Den give me the powder!"
"Stay a little", replied the friar, who went out of the cell, and, in
about ten minutes, returned with an answer to our hero's letter, and a
paper containing a greyish powder.
"Give him this in his soup or anything--spread it on his meat, or mix
it up with his sugar if he eats an orange."
"I see," replied Mesty. "The dollars shall be yours, I swear it on the
holy cross." Mesty grinned horribly, took his credentials, and then
asked, "When I come again?"
"As soon as you have received the money bring it to me at Don
Rebiera's--then give the powder: as soon as it is given you must let
me know, for you must not remain in Palermo. I will myself conduct
you to a place of safety."
Mesty then quitted the cell, and was shown out of the monastery.
"By de holy poker, he one d--n rascal!" muttered Mesty, as he was once
in the open air. "But stop a little."
The Ashantee soon arrived at the barracks, and repeated the whole of
the conference between him and Friar Thomaso.
"It must be poison, of course," observed Gascoigne; "suppose we try it
upon some animal?"
"No, Massa Gascoigne," replied Mesty, "I try it myself, by-and-bye.
Now what we do?"
"I must give you the order for the thousand dollars, Mesty," replied
Jack. "The rascal here writes to me that for that sum, he will
consent not only not to oppose me, but agrees to assist my cause; but
the great question is, whether he will keep his word with you, Mesty;
if not, I shall lose my money. So therefore we must now have another
palaver, and argue the point."
The point was argued between Jack and Gascoigne. A thousand dollars
was a large sum, but Jack's father was a philosopher. After many pros
and cons, it was at last decided that the money should be given to
Mesty; but Mesty should state, when he took the money to the friar,
that he had administered the powder, and claim it when he presented
it.
The next day, the order for the money was given to Mesty, and he went
to Friar Thomaso with it. The friar hastened with Mesty to the
monastery, and sent for the interpreter.
"You have given it?" inquired the friar.
"Yes--not one hour ago. Here de order for de money."
"You must run for the money before he is dead, for the powder is very
rapid."
"And me," replied Mesty, apparently much alarmed, "where am I to go?"
"As soon as you bring the money here, you must go back to the
barracks. Remain there till he is dead, and then return here. I will
have all ready, and take you, as soon as it is dusk, to a monastery of
our order in the mountains, where no one will think of looking for
you, till the affair is blown over; and then I will find you a passage
in some vessel out of the island."
Mesty hastened for the money, and taking it in a large bag to the
monastery, delivered it to the friar's charge, and then returned to
the barracks to Easy and Gascoigne. It was agreed that he should go
with the friar, who would probably remain away some time; indeed,
Mesty insisted upon so doing. Mesty stayed two hours, and then
returned about dusk to the monastery, and reported the death of our
hero. He remained there until it was dark, and then the friar ordered
him to tie the bag of dollars to his saddle-bow. They mounted two
mules, which stood already caparisoned, and quitted Palermo.
In the morning Don Philip, as usual, made his appearance, and told our
hero that the friar had been summoned away by the abbot, and would not
return for some time.
"I came to tell you this news," said Don Philip, "as I thought it
would please you; the sooner you are now well the better. I mean to
propose your being both removed to my father's palazzo, and then you
can recover your lost ground during the confessor's absence."
"And I have the means," replied Jack, showing the friar's letter. Don
Philip read it with astonishment, but was still more surprised when he
heard the whole story from Jack. He was for a time silent: at last he
said,--
"I am sorry for your poor black." "Why so?" replied Jack.
"You will never see him again, depend upon it. A thousand dollars
would sign the death warrant of a thousand blacks; but there is
another reason--they will put him out of the way, that he may not give
evidence. Where is the powder?"
"Mesty has it; he would not part with it."
"He is a shrewd fellow, that black; he may be too much for the friar,"
replied Don Philip.
"He means mischief, I'm sure," replied Gascoigne.
"Still I feel a great deal of alarm about him," replied Easy; "I wish
now that I had not let him go."
"Are you sure that he went?"
"No, I am not; but the friar told him that he should take him to the
mountains as soon as it was dark."
"And probably he will," replied Don Philip, "as the best place to get
rid of him. However, the whole of this story must be told both to my
father and my mother; to the former, that he may take the right
measures, and to my mother, that it may open her eyes. Give me the
copy of the letter you wrote to the friar, and then I shall have it
all."
The report of the accident which had occurred to Easy and Gascoigne
had been spread and fully believed throughout Palermo. Indeed, as
usual, it had been magnified, and asserted that they could not
recover. To Agnes only had the case been imparted in confidence by
Don Philip, for her distress at the first intelligence had been so
great that her brother could not conceal it.
Two days after Don Philip had made his parents acquainted with the
villainy of the friar, the midshipmen were transported to the palazzo,
much to the surprise of everybody, and much to the renown of the
surgeons, who were indemnified for their duplicity and falsehood by an
amazing extension of their credit as skilful men.
After their arrival at the palazzo, Don Rebiera was also entrusted
with the secret, but it went no farther. As now there was no
particular hurry for our hero to get well, he was contented and happy
in the society of Agnes and her parents; the old lady, after she had
been informed of the conduct of Friar Thomaso, having turned round in
our hero's favour, and made a vow never to have a confessor in the
house again. Jack and Gascoigne were now as happy as could be; all
their alarm was about Mesty, for whose return they were most anxious.
To Don Rebiera, Jack made known formally his intentions with regard to
Agnes. He fully satisfied him as to his qualifications and his
property, and Don Rebiera was fully aware of his debt of gratitude to
our hero. But all he required was the consent of Jack's father, and
until this was obtained, he would not consent to the marriage taking
place. Jack attempted to argue the point; his father, he said, had
married without consulting him, and therefore he had a right to marry
without consulting his father. But Don Rebiera, not having any
acquaintance with the rights of man and equality, did not feel the
full force of Jack's argument, and made it a sine qua non that his
parents should write and consent to the alliance before it took place.
CHAPTER XXXIII
In which Mesty should be called throughout Mephistopheles, for it
abounds in black cloaks, disguises, daggers, and dark deeds.
On the fourth evening after the removal of our two midshipmen to the
palazzo of Don Rebiera, as they were sitting in company with Agnes and
Don Philip in their own room, a friar made his appearance at the door.
They all started, for by his height they imagined him to be Friar
Thomaso, but no one addressed him. The friar shut the door without
saying a word, and then lifting up his cowl, which had been drawn over
it, discovered the black face of Mesty. Agnes screamed, and all sprang
from their seats at this unusual and unexpected apparition. Mesty
grinned, and there was that in his countenance which said that he had
much to communicate.
"Where is the friar--Mesty?" inquired Easy.
"Stop a little, Massa--suppose we lock door first, and den I tell
all."
Taking this precaution, Mesty threw off the friar's gown, and appeared
in his own dress, with the bag of dollars slung round his body.
"Now, Massa Easy, I hab a long story to tell--so I tink I better begin
at the beginning."
"It is the most approved method," replied Jack, "but stop when I hold
up my finger, that we may translate what you say to the lady and Don
Philip."
"Dat all right, sar. Friar and I get on two mule as soon as it quite
dark. He make me carry all tousand dollars--and we ride out of town.
We go up mountain and mountain, but the moon get up shine and we go on
cheek by jowl--he nebber say one word, and I nebber say one word,
'cause I no speak his lingo, and he no understand my English. About
two o'clock in de morning, we stop at a house and stay dere till eight
o'clock, and den we go on again all next day, up all mountain, only
stop once, eat a bit bread and drink lilly wine. Second night come on,
and den we stop again, and people bow very low to him, and woman bring
in rabbit for make supper. I go in the kitchen, woman make stew smell
very nice, so I nod my head, and I say very good, and she make a face,
and throw on table black loaf of bread and garlic, and make sign dat
for my supper; good enough for black fellow, and dat rabbit stew for
friar. Den I say to myself, stop a little; suppose friar hab all de
rabbit, I tink I give him a lilly powder."
"The powder, Mesty?" exclaimed Jack.
"What does he say?" inquired Don Philip.
Gascoigne translated all that Mesty had communicated. The interest of
the narrative now became exciting. Mesty continued:--
"Well, Massa Easy, den woman she go for dish to put stew in, and I
take de powder and drop it in de pot, and den I sit down again and eat
black bread, she say good enough for black man. She tir up de stew
once more, and den she pour it out into dish, and take it to friar. He
lick um chops, by all de powers, and he like um so well he pick all de
bones, and wipe up gravy with him bread. You tink it very nice, Massa
Friar, tink I; but stop a little. After he drink a whole bottle of
wine, he tell me bring mules to de door, and he put him hands on de
woman head, and dat de way he pay for him supper.
"The moon shone bright, and we go up all mountain, always go up, and
'bout two hour, he get off him mule and he put him hand so, and set
down on de rock. He twist, and he turn, and he groan, for half an
hour, and den he look at me, as much as to say, you black villain, you
do this? for he not able to speak, and den I pull out de paper of de
powder, and I show him, and make him sign he swallow it: he look
again, and I laugh at him and he die."
"Oh, Mesty, Mesty," exclaimed our hero; "you should not have done
that, there will mischief come from it."
"Now he dead, Massa Easy, so much less mischief."
Gascoigne then interpreted to Don Philip and Agnes, the former of whom
looked very grave, and the latter terrified.
"Let him go on," said Don Philip; "I am most anxious to hear what he
did with the body."
Mesty, at the request of our hero, proceeded: "Den I thought what I
should do, and I said I would hide him, and I tink I take his coat for
myself, so I pull off him coat and I pull off all his oder clothes--he
not wear many--and I take the body in my arm, and carry him where I
find a great split in de rock above all road. I throw him in, and den
I throw plenty large pieces rock on him till I no see him any more;
den I take de two mules and get on mine wid de dollars, and lead de
other three four mile, till I come to a large wood--take off him
saddle and bridle, turn him adrift. Den I tear up all clothes all in
lilly bits, hide one piece here, noder piece dere, and de saddle and
bridle in de bush. All right, now, I say so I put on friar cloak,
hide my face, get on my mule, and den I look where I shall go--so I
say, I not be in dis road anyhow, I pass through wood till I find
nother. I go 'bout two mile--moon go down, all dark, and five six men
catch hold my bridle, and they all got arms, so I do noting--they
speak to me, but I no answer, and nebber show my face. They find all
dollars (d--n um) fast enough, and they lead me away through the wood.
Last we come to a large fire in de wood, plenty of men lie about, some
eat and some drink. They pull me off, and I hold down my head and
fold my arms, just like friar do. They bring me along to one man, and
pour out all my dollar before him. He give some order, and they take
me away, and I peep through the cloak, and I say to myself, he that
d--n galley-slave rascal Don Silvio."
"Don Silvio!" cried Jack. "What does he say of Don Silvio?" demanded
Don Philip. Mesty's narrative was again translated, and he continued.
"Dey led me away about fifty yards, tie me to tree, and den they leave
me, and dey all drink and make merry, nebber offer me anything, so, I
hab noting den to eat; I eat de ropes and gnaw them through and den I
stay there two hour until all go asleep, and all quiet; for I say to
myself, stop a little. Den when dey all fast asleep, I take out my
knife and I crawl 'long de ground, as we do in our country sometime--
and den I stop and look 'bout me; no man watch but two, and dey look
out for squarl, not look in board where I was. I crawl again till I
lay down alongside that d--n galley-slave Don Silvio. He lie fast
asleep with my bag thousand dollars under him head. So I tink, 'you
not hab dem long, you rascal. I look round--all right, and I drive my
knife good aim into him heart and press toder hand on him mouth, but
he make no noise; he struggle little and look up, and den I throw off
de head of de gown and show him my black face, and he look and he try
to speak; but I stop dat, for down go my knife again, and de d--n
galley-slave dead as herring."
"Stop, Mesty, we must tell this to Don Philip," said Gascoigne.
"Dead! Don Silvio dead! well, Mesty, we are eternally obliged to you,
for there was no safety for my father while he was living. Let him go
on."
"So when I put de knife through his body, I lie down by him as if
noting had happened, for ten minutes, and den I take de bag of dollars
from under him head, and den I feel him all over, and I find him
pistols and him purse, which I hab here, all gold. So I take them and
I look--all asleep, and I crawl back to de tree. Den I stay to tink a
little; de man on watch come up and look at me, but he tink all right
and he go away again. Lucky ting, by de power, dat I go back to tree.
I wait again, and den I crawl and crawl till I clear of all, and den I
take to my heel and run for um life, till daylight come, and den I so
tired I lie down in bush; I stay in bush all day, and den I set off
again back here, for I find road and know my way. I not eat den for
one day and one night, and come to house where I put my head in and
find woman there. I not able to speak, so I help myself, and not show
my face. She not like dat and make a bobbery, but I lift up my cloak
and show my black face and white teeth, and den she tink me de debil.
She run out of de house and I help myself very quick, and den set off
and come close here yesterday morning. I hide myself all day and come
in at night, and now, Massa Easy, you ab haf de whole truth and you ab
your tousand dollars--and you ab got rid of de rascal friar and de
d--n galley-slave, Don Silvio."
"Tell them all this, Ned," said Jack, who, whilst Gascoigne was so
employed, talked with Mesty.
"I was very much frightened for you, Mesty," said Jack; "but still I
thought you quite as cunning as the friar, and so it has turned out;
but the thousand dollars ought to be yours."
"No, sar," replied Mesty, "the dollars not mine; but I hab plenty of
gold in Don Silvio's purse--plenty, plenty of gold. I keep my
property, Massa Easy, and you keep yours."
"I'm afraid that this affair may be found out, Mesty; the woman will
spread the report of having been attacked by a black friar, and that
will lead to suspicion, as the other friars of the convent knew that
you left with Friar Thomaso."
"So I tink dat, but when a man starve, he quite forget his thought."
"I don't blame you; but now I must talk to Don Philip."
"Suppose you no objection, while you talk I eat something from the
table then, Massa Easy, for I hungry enough to eat de friar, mule and
all."
"Eat, my good fellow, and drink as much as you please."
The consultation between our two midshipmen and Don Philip was not
long: they perceived the immediate necessity for the departure of
Mesty, and the suspicion which would attach to themselves. Don Philip
and Agnes left them, to go to Don Rebiera, and make him acquainted
with what had passed, and to ask his advice.
When they went into the room, Don Rebiera immediately accosted his
son.
"Have you heard, Philip, that Friar Thomaso has returned at last?--so
the servants tell me."
"The report may be fortunate," replied Don Philip; "but I have another
story to tell you."
He then sat down and imparted to Don Rebiera all the adventures of
Mesty. Don Rebiera was for some time in deep thought; at last he
replied,--
"That Don Silvio is no more is fortunate, and the negro would be
entitled to reward for his destruction--but for the friar, that is a
bad business. The negro might remain and tell the whole story, and
the facts might be proved by the evidence of Signor Easy, and the
letters; but what then? we should raise the whole host of the clergy
against our house, and we have suffered too much from them already;
the best plan would be the immediate departure, not only of the negro
but of our two young friends. The supposition of Friar Thomaso being
here, and their departure with the negro servant to rejoin their ship,
will remove much suspicion and destroy all inquiry. They must be off
immediately. Go to them, Philip, and point out to them the absolute
necessity of this measure, and tell our young friend that I rigidly
adhere to my promise, and as soon as he has his father's sanction I
will bestow upon him my daughter. In the meantime I will send down
and see if a vessel can be chartered for Malta."
Our hero and Gascoigne fully admitted the wisdom of this measure, and
prepared for their departure; indeed, now that Don Rebiera's
resolution had been made known to our hero, he cared more for
obtaining his father's consent than he did for remaining to enjoy
himself at Palermo; and before noon of the next day all was ready, the
vessel had been procured, Jack took his leave of Agnes and her mother,
and, accompanied by Don Rebiera and Don Phillip (for Don Martin was on
duty a few miles from Palermo), went down to the beach, and, having
bid them farewell, embarked with Gascoigne and Mesty on board of the
two-masted lateen which had been engaged, and before sunset not a
steeple of Palermo was to be seen.
"What are you thinking of, Jack?" said Gascoigne, after our hero had
been silent half an hour.
"I have been thinking, Ned, that we are well out of it."
"So do I," replied Gascoigne; and here the conversation dropped for a
time.
"What are you thinking of now, Jack?" said Gascoigne, after a long
pause.
"I've been thinking that I've a good story for the old Governor."
"Very true," replied Gascoigne; and both were again silent for some
time.
"What are you thinking of now, Jack?" said Gascoigne, after another
long interval.
"I've been thinking that I shall leave the service," replied Jack.
"I wish you would take me with you," replied Gascoigne, with a sigh;
and again they were both in deep contemplation.
"What are you thinking of now, Jack?" said Gascoigne again.
"Of Agnes," replied our hero.
"Well, if that's the case, I'll call you when supper's ready. In the
meantime I'll go and talk with Mesty."
CHAPTER XXXIV
Jack leaves the service, in which he had no business, and goes home to
mind his own business.
On the fourth day they arrived at Malta, and our two midshipmen, as
soon as they had settled with the padrone of the vessel, went up to
the government house. They found the Governor in the veranda, who
held out both his hands, one to each.
"Glad to see you, my lads. Well, Jack, how's the leg--all right?
don't limp? And your arm, Gascoigne?"
"All right, sir, and as sound as ever it was," replied they both.
"Then you're in luck, and have made more haste than you deserve, after
your mad pranks: but now sit down, and I suppose, my friend Jack, you
have a story to tell me."
"O yes, Sir Thomas, and a very long one."
"Then I won't have it now, for I expect people on business; we'll have
it after dinner. Get your things up and take possession of your rooms.
The Aurora sailed four days ago. You've had a wonderful recovery."
"Wonderful, sir!" replied our hero; "all Palermo rings with it."
"Well you may go now--I shall see you at dinner. Wilson will be
delighted when he hears that you have got round again, for he was
low-spirited about it, I can tell you, which is more than you
deserve."
"He's right there," said our hero to Gascoigne, as they walked away.
When dinner was over, Jack narrated to the Governor the adventures of
Mesty, with which he was much interested; but when they were quite
alone in the evening, the Governor called our two midshipmen into the
veranda, and said:
"Now my lads, I'm not going to preach, as the saying is, but I've been
long enough in the world to know that a compound fracture of the leg
is not cured in fourteen or sixteen days. I ask you to tell me the
truth. Did not you deceive Captain Wilson on this point?"
"I am ashamed to say that we did, sir," replied Easy.
"How did you manage that, and why?"
Jack then went into further details relative to himself and his amour,
stating his wish to be left behind, and all that had passed.
"Well, there's some excuse for you, but none for the surgeons. If any
surgeon here had played such a trick, I would have hung him, as sure
as I'm Governor. This affair of yours has become serious. Mr Easy,
we must have some conversation on the matter to-morrow morning."
The next morning the packet from England was reported off the
harbour's mouth. After breakfast the letters were brought on shore,
and the Governor sent for our hero.
"Mr Easy, here are two letters for you; I am sorry to say, with black
seals. I trust that they do not bring the intelligence of the death of
any very near relative."
Jack bowed without speaking, took the letters, and went to his room.
The first he opened was from his father.
"MY DEAR JOHN,
"You will be much grieved to hear that your poor mother, after sitting
in the corner for nearly two years waiting for the millennium, appeared
to pine away; whether from disappointment or not I do not know; but at
last, in spite of all Dr Middleton could do, she departed this life;
and, as the millennium would not come to her as she expected, it is to
be hoped she is gone to the millennium. She was a good wife, and I
always let her have her own way. Dr Middleton does not appear to be
satisfied as to the cause of her death, and has wished to examine; but I
said no, for I am a philosopher, and it is no use looking for causes
after effects; but I have done since her death what she never would
permit me to do during her life. I have had her head shaved, and
examined it very carefully as a phrenologist, and most curiously has she
proved the truth of the sublime science. I will give you the result.
Determination, very prominent; Benevolence, small; Caution, extreme;
Veneration, not very great; Philoprogenitiveness, strange to say, is
very large, considering she has but one child; Imagination, very strong:
you know, my dear boy, she was always imagining some nonsense or
another. Her other organs were all moderate. Poor dear creature! she is
gone, and we may well wail, for a better mother or a better wife never
existed. And now, my dear boy, I must request that you call for your
discharge, and come home as soon as possible. I cannot exist without
you, and I require your assistance in the grand work I have in
contemplation. The time is at hand, the cause of equality will soon
triumph; the abject slaves now hold up their heads; I have electrified
them with my speeches, but I am getting old and feeble; I require my son
to leave my mantle to, as one prophet did to another, and then I will,
like him, ascend in glory.
"Your affectionate Father,
"NICODEMUS EASY".
From this it would appear, thought Jack, that my mother is dead, and
that my father is mad. For some time our hero remained in a
melancholy mood; he dropped many tears to the memory of his mother,
whom, if he had never respected, he had much loved: and it was not
till half an hour had elapsed, that he thought of opening the other
letter. It was from Dr Middleton.
"MY DEAR BOY,