TWO BRAZILIAN VESSELS—MY FIRST BATTLE—MY FIRST
WOUND—RESULTS—MY OWN CONDITION—BURIAL OF MY FRIEND
FIORENTINO.
The day after, while lying a little south of Jesus Maria, two launches
came in sight and approached us in a friendly manner, with nothing in
their appearance to excite suspicion. I made a signal agreed on with
friends, but it was not answered; and then I hoisted sail, had the arms
taken from the chests, and prepared to meet them as enemies. The
launches held on towards us: the larger showed only three men on deck:
but, when she came nearer, called on us to surrender, in the name of the
Oriental Government. The next instant thirty men suddenly rose, as if by
a miracle, and she ran up on our larboard side. I immediately gave
command to "brace the yards," and then to "fire." An active engagement
then commenced. The launch being then alongside of us, several of the
enemy attempted to board us, but were driven back by a few shots and
sabre-cuts. All this passed in a few moments. But my order to brace the
yards was not obeyed, for my men were new and in confusion, and the few
who began to haul at the weather braces found they had not been let go
to leeward, and were unable to move them. Fiorentino, one of the best of
the crew, who was at the helm, sprang forward to cast them off, when a
musket ball struck him in the head and laid him dead on deck. The helm
was now abandoned; and, as I was standing near, firing at the enemy, I
seized the tiller, but the next moment received a bullet in my neck,
which threw me down senseless, and I knew nothing more until the action
was over. When I came to myself I found that an hour had elapsed, a hard
fight had been maintained against a superior force, and a victory won,
chiefly by the bravery of the Italians, the mate, Luigi Carniglia, the
second mate, Pasquale Lodola, and the sailors Giovanni Lamberti and
Maurizio Garibaldi. Two Maltese and all the Italians, except a Venitian,
fought bravely. The others, with two negroes, sheltered themselves under
the ballast of the vessel.
I found that the enemy had hauled off out of gun-shot. I ordered that
our vessel should proceed up the river, in search of a place of retreat.
When I first began to recover consciousness, I lay helpless, apparently
dead, but felt as if unable to die. I was the only man on board who had
any knowledge of navigation; and, as none of the others had a single
idea of geography, or knew where to go, they at length brought me the
chart. None of us had been in the waters of the Plata before, except
Maurizio, who had sailed on the Uruguay. When I turned my dying eyes on
the chart, I was unable to see distinctly, but made out to perceive that
one place on the river was printed in large letters, and at length
discovered that it was Santa Fé, on the Paraná, and thought we might
there make a temporary harbor. So, pointing at it with my finger, and
signifying as well as I could the direction and distance, I left the
helmsman to himself.
All the sailors, except the Italians, were frightened by seeing my
situation, and the corpse of Fiorentino, and by the apprehension of
being treated as pirates wherever they might go. Every countenance wore
an expression of terror; and at the earliest opportunity they deserted.
In every bird they observed on the water they imagined they saw an
enemy's launch, sent to pursue them. The body of the unfortunate
Fiorentino was buried the next day in the river, with the ceremonies
usually practised by sailors, as we were unable to anchor anywhere near
the land. I was perhaps affected the more by the sad scene, because I
was in so feeble a condition. I had never thought much about death,
although I knew I was liable to it every moment; but I mourned deeply at
the funeral of my lost friend, who was very dear indeed to me. Among the
numerous poetical lines which occurred to my mind, was that beautiful
verse of Ugo Foscolo:
"Un sasso che distingue le mie
Dall' infinite osse, che in terra
E in mar, semina Morte."
[Let a stone distinguish mine from the innumerable
bones which Death sows on land and in the sea.]
My friend had promised me never to bury me in the water: but who can
tell whether he would have been able to keep his promise? I could never
have felt sure that my corpse would not feed the sea-wolves and acaves
of the great river Plata. If it were so, then I should never have seen
Italy again; never fought for her—which was the great wish of my life:
but then, too, I never should have seen her sink into ignominy. Who
would have said to the amiable man that, within a year, Garibaldi would
see him swallowed up in the surges of the ocean, and that he would
search for his corpse, to bury it on a foreign shore, and to mark the
spot with a stone, for the eyes of strangers? He deserved my kind
regard; for he attended me, with the care of a mother, during the whole
voyage from Mayaguay. During all my sufferings, which were very severe,
I had no relief but what he afforded me, by his constant care and kind
services. I wish to express my gratitude to God for sending me such a
friend.
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