THE EAGLE SCREAMS
Despite the glories of the Amalfi road our tourists decided it was more
pleasant to loiter around Sorrento for a time than to undertake further
excursions. The mornings and evenings were chill, but during the middle
of the day the air was warm and delicious; so the girls carried their
books and fancy-work into the beautiful gardens or wandered lazily
through the high-walled lanes that shut in the villas and orange groves.
Sometimes they found a gate open, and were welcomed to the orchards and
permitted to pluck freely the fragrant and rich flavored fruit, which is
excelled in no other section of the south country. Also Uncle John, with
Beth and Patsy, frequented the shops of the wood-workers and watched
their delicate and busy fingers inlaying the various colored woods; but
Louise mostly kept to the garden, where Count Ferralti, being a
semi-invalid, was content to sit by her side and amuse her.
In spite of her uncle's discovery of the false position assumed by this
young man, Louise seemed to like his attentions and to approve his
evident admiration for her. His ways might be affected and effeminate
and his conversational powers indifferent; but his bandaged wrist was a
constant reminder to all the nieces that he possessed courage and ready
wit, and it was but natural that he became more interesting to them
because just now he was to an extent helpless, and his crippled hand had
been acquired in their service.
Uncle John watched the young fellow shrewdly, but could discover little
harm in him except his attempt to deceive them in regard to his name and
position. Yet in his mature eyes there was not much about Ferralti to
arouse admiration, and the little man considered his girls too sensible
to be greatly impressed by this youthful Italian's personality. So he
allowed him to sit with his nieces in the gardens as much as he
pleased, believing it would be ungrateful to deprive the count of that
harmless recreation.
"A reg'lar chaperone might think differently," he reflected; "but thank
goodness there are no dragons swimming in our cup of happiness."
One day they devoted to Capri and the Blue Grotto, and afterward they
lunched at the Quisisana and passed the afternoon in the town. But the
charms of Sorrento were too great for Capri to win their allegiance, and
they were glad to get back to their quaint town and delightful gardens
again.
The week passed all too swiftly, and then came a letter from Colonel
Angeli telling them to return to Naples and witness the results of the
eruption. This they decided to do, and bidding good-bye to Signor
Floriano and his excellent hotel they steamed across the bay and found
the "Vesuve" a vastly different hostelry from the dismal place they had
left in their flight from Naples. It was now teeming with life, for, all
danger being past, the tourists had flocked to the city in droves. The
town was still covered with ashes, but under the brilliant sunshine it
did not look as gloomy as one might imagine, and already thousands of
carts were busily gathering the dust from the streets and dumping it in
the waters of the bay. It would require months of hard work, though,
before Naples could regain a semblance of its former beauty.
Their friend the Colonel personally accompanied them to the towns that
had suffered the most from the eruption. At Boscatrecasa they walked
over the great beds of lava that had demolished the town--banks of
cinders looking like lumps of pumice stone and massed from twenty to
thirty feet in thickness throughout the valley. The lava was still so
hot that it was liable to blister the soles of their feet unless they
kept constantly moving. It would be many more days before the interior
of the mass became cold.
Through the forlorn, dust-covered vineyards they drove to San Guiseppe,
where a church roof had fallen in and killed one hundred and forty
people, maiming many more. The Red-Cross tents were pitched in the
streets and the whole town was one vast hospital. Ottajano, a little
nearer to the volcano, had been buried in scoria, and nine-tenths of
the roofs had fallen in, rendering the dwellings untenable.
From here a clear view of Mt. Vesuvius could be obtained. The shape of
the mountain had greatly altered and the cone had lost sixty-five feet
of its altitude. But when one gazed upon the enormous bulk of volcanic
deposit that littered the country for miles around, it seemed to equal a
dozen mountains the size of Vesuvius. The marvel was that so much ashes
and cinders could come from a single crater in so short a period.
Naples was cleaning house, but slowly and listlessly. The people seemed
as cheerful and light-hearted as ever. The volcano was one of their
crosses, and they bore it patiently. The theatres would remain closed
for some weeks to come, but the great Museo Nationale was open, and
Uncle John and his nieces were much interested in the bronze and marble
statuary that here form the greatest single collection in all the world.
It was at the Museum that Mr. Merrick was arrested for the first time
in his life, an experience he never afterward forgot.
Bad money is so common in Naples that Uncle John never accepted any
change from anyone, but obtained all his silver coins and notes directly
from the Banca Commerciale Italiana, a government institution. One
morning he drove with the girls to the museum and paid the cabman a
lira, but before he could ascend the steps the man was after him and
holding out a leaden coin, claiming that his fare had given him bad
money and must exchange it for good. This is so common a method of
swindling that Uncle John paid no heed to the demands of the cabman
until one of the Guard Municipale, in his uniform of dark blue with
yellow buttons and cap, placed a restraining hand upon the American's
shoulder.
Uncle John angrily shook him off, but the man persisted, and an
interpreter employed by the museum stepped forward and explained that
unless the cabman was given a good coin in exchange for the bad one the
guarde would be obliged to take him before a commissionaire, or
magistrate.
"But I gave him a good coin--a lira direct from the bank," declared
Uncle John.
"He exhibits a bad one," returned the interpreter, calmly.
"He's a swindler!"
"He is a citizen of Naples, and entitled to a just payment," said the
other, shrugging his shoulders.
"You are all leagued together," said Uncle John, indignantly. "But you
will get no more money out of me, I promise you."
The result was that the stubborn American was placed under arrest.
Leaving the girls at the museum in charge of Ferralti, who had made no
attempt to interfere in the dispute but implored Uncle John to pay and
avoid trouble, the angry prisoner was placed in the same cab he had
arrived in and, with the officer seated beside him, was publicly driven
to the office of the magistrate.
This official understood no English, but he glowered and frowned
fiercely when the American was brought before him. The guarde and the
cabman stood with bared bowed heads and in low tones preferred the
charge against the prisoner; but Uncle John swaggered up to the desk and
pounded his clinched fist upon it while he roared a defiance of Italian
injustice and threatened to "bring over a few war-ships and blow Naples
into kingdom come!"
The magistrate was startled, and ordered the prisoner searched for
concealed weapons. Uncle John doubled his fists and dared the guarde to
touch him.
Then the cabman was dispatched for someone who could speak English, and
when an interpreter arrived the American told him to send for the United
States consul and also to inform the magistrate that nothing but war
between America and Italy could wipe out the affront that had been
thrust upon him.
The magistrate was disturbed, and preferred not to send for the consul.
He offered to release Uncle John if he would give the cabman a good lira
in exchange for the bad one. The official fee would be five lira--or say
three lira--or even two. Uncle John flatly refused to pay anything to
anybody. Only war could settle this international complication--bloody
and bitter war. The consul must cable at once for war-ships and troops.
He would insist upon it. All compromise was now impossible!
The magistrate was frightened. The guarde's eyes bulged with horror and
he trembled visibly. It was evident they had made a grave mistake in
arresting this mad American, who was evidently a personage of great
importance and able to declare war at a moment's notice. The cabman, the
magistrate, the guarde and the interpreter put their heads together and
chattered voluble Italian--all speaking at once in excited tones--while
Uncle John continued to warn them at the top of his lungs that their
country was doomed to sudden annihilation and they were the culprits
responsible for the coming calamity.
As a result they bundled the irate American into the carriage again and
drove him poste haste back to the museum, where they deposited him upon
the steps. Then in a flash the guarde and the cabman disappeared from
sight and were seen no more.
The victor smiled proudly as his nieces rushed toward him.
"Did you have to pay another lira, Uncle?" asked Patsy, anxiously.
"Not on your life, my dear," mopping his brow vigorously. "They're a lot
of cutthroats and assassins--policemen, magistrates and all--but when
the eagle screams they're wise enough to duck."
The girls laughed.
"And did the eagle scream, then?" Patsy enquired.
"Just a little, my dear; but if it whispered it would sound mighty loud
in this mummified old world. But we've lost enough time for one day.
Come; let's go see 'Narcissus' and the 'Dancing Faun.'"