_The Waking of David.--A glorious Scene.--A Temptation.--David
embarks upon the wide wide Sea.--Youth at the Prow and Pleasure at
the Helm.--A daring Navigator.--A baffled and confounded
Navigator.--Lost! Lost! Lost!--Despair of David.--At the Mercy of
Wind and Sea.--The Isle of the Brigands.--The Brigand Chief._
On the morning of that day David had waked very early, feeling
refreshed with his slumbers, and not at all inclined to prolong
them. The others were all asleep, and the house was silent. As he
lay he could hear the gentle ripple of the water upon the beach,
and feel the sweet, balmy air of morning as it tanned his cheeks.
For some little time he lay enjoying his situation, and then jumped
out of bed and went to the window.
Immediately in front of him lay the Bay of Naples, a dark blue
expanse, with its border of green shores and white cities, overhung
by a sky whose hue rivalled that of the sea beneath. The beauty of
the scene was so exquisite that it called him forth, and unable
any longer to remain within doors, he dressed himself and walked
out. On his way out he met no one, for all were still asleep. He
had to unlock the door to let himself out, and when outside he saw
that the street was as deserted as the interior of the hotel.
Standing at the door, he saw the eastern sky all ruddy and glowing.
The sun was not yet up, but these hues indicated its approach, and
announced that it was at hand. The fertile plains, all covered with
vineyards, spread afar, extending from the outskirts of the town
to the slopes of the mountains, which in the distance rose up
grandly, their sides covered with groves, and resting in dark
shadows. There, too, was Vesuvius, as ever, monarch of the scene;
and the smoke that hung over its summit stood revealed in a black
mass against the blue sky.
David left the hotel, and, after walking a few paces, turned his
steps towards the sea-shore. Here the attractions were greater
than on the land, for the blue expanse of water spread itself out
before him, encircled by shores and islands, and all the congregated
glories of the Bay of Naples were there in one view before his
eyes. There was a beach here of fine pebbles, which sloped gently
into the water, and upon this beach a number of boats were drawn
up. After wandering along the beach for a little distance, David
entered one of these boats, and sat down. It was a small boat,
with: a mast and sail, the latter of which was loosely furled. Here
David sat and looked out upon the water.
The glorious scene filled his whole soul with enthusiastic delight.
Upon that deep blue surface his eye was attracted by several white
sails far away, that moved to and fro. At that moment it seemed to
him that to move thus over such a sea would be equal to a bird's
flight in the blue of heaven; and as he watched the boats he longed
to be in them.
Suddenly he thought of the boat in which he was. Could he not have
a little sail up and down along the shore? True, he did not know
how to sail a boat, but he could learn; and this seemed as good a
time to learn as any other. He did not know the owner, but on his
return he could pay him what the excursion might be worth. He could
float over this glorious water, and move up and down within easy
reach of the shore, so as to land whenever it might be desirable.
David was not at all an enterprising boy, or an adventurous one.
He was essentially quiet, methodical, and conservative. It was not
because this sail was a risky thing that he tried it, but rather
because it seemed so perfectly safe. There was a breeze,--he felt
it,--and the progress of the boats, afar off on the water, tantalized
him and tempted him on. The result was, that without taking much
time to think about it, David yielded to the inclination of the
moment, and pushing the boat from the land into the water, he let
loose the sail; and then seating himself in the stern, he prepared
to glide over the water.
About sailing David knew absolutely nothing. He was not even
acquainted with the theory of sailing; nor did he know, how, or on
what principle, a sail-boat moves. About steering he was equally
ignorant, nor did he know how a boat obeys its rudder. But he knew
that the one who sails a boat sits in the stern, and holds the
tiller; so David did the same, holding the tiller in his right
hand, and the sheets in his left.
The wind was not very strong, and it happened to be blowing in
such a way that, as he unfurled the sail, it filled at once, and
the boat moved lightly and pleasantly along. The motion filled
David with delight. He saw himself borne on past the shore, at
a gentle rate, and felt that the moment was one of supreme
happiness. Thus, holding sheet and tiller, he resigned himself
to the joy of the occasion.
The wind was moderate, and there was nothing whatever in the movement
of the boat to excite the slightest uneasiness. The wavelets dashed
pleasantly against the bows, and the course of the boat remained
sufficiently straight to keep her sail filled. David saw that
whatever the secret of navigation might be, he had unconsciously
stumbled Upon it; and finding that the boat was doing so admirably,
he was very careful to hold the tiller straight, and not to move
it to either side. So he leaned back, and luxuriated in the pleasant
motion, and looked up at the deep blue sky that bent above him,
and around at the wide expanse of water, the green verdurous hills,
the vine-clad meadows, and the purple mountains.
From time to time he noticed, with satisfaction, that his
course ran along the shore, parallel to it, as it appeared.
He noticed, however, that he was now farther away from it than
when he started; but as yet the distance did not seem excessive;
in fact, it seemed on the whole preferable, since it gave him
a finer view. Before him the shore ran on until it terminated
on a headland, and David thought that this would be a good
place to fix as the limit of his voyage.
Never was any human being more utterly out of place than David in
this sail-boat, and never was any human being more serenely
unconscious of his unfitness. David's frame of mind was one of
calm, beatific enjoyment. He was quite unconscious of the increase
of the distance between his boat and the shore, which grew greater
every moment, and equally unobservant of the lapse of time. In
times of great enjoyment the hours fly quickly by, and in David's
high exaltation of feeling the time thus fled.
At length, even in the midst of his happiness, the sober practical
thought obtruded itself of time and space. How long had he been
out? How much time would he have? How far had he gone? He looked
at his watch. To his utter amazement and consternation, he found
that it was seven o'clock--the time fixed for breakfast. He had
been sailing for two hours at least. As to distance, he could not
grapple with that thought, but turned hastily, and looked back.
That look gave him but little satisfaction. He could see a line of
white at the skirts of the sea; but whether it was Castellamare,
or Naples itself, he was unable to guess.
It was a wide, sharp; and painful awakening from his bliss
and serene delight, and it was an effectual one. No more placid
gliding now; no careless voyaging. Two hours! Seven o'clock!
Already they were at breakfast, and waiting for him. They were
wondering about his absence. And when could he join them
again? Two hours! If it had taken two hours to come thus far,
it would also take fully as much time to go back. Go back?
And where should he go, or how could he get back?
Thus far, David's idea about his course, if he can be said to have
had an idea, was, that it lay along the shore, and that somehow he
could go back as easily as he had come. But now that the necessity
for going back was upon him, he instantly became aware of his utter
ignorance, for he had not the faintest idea how to turn the boat.
There was no time for delay, however. Something had to be done,
and that immediately. David knew this much at least, that a boat
could be turned by means of the rudder; so he began to experiment
upon this part of the vessel. He palled the rudder towards him.
The boat turned, and as it turned the sail began to flap, and toss,
and snap, in such a way that he grew exceedingly nervous. Suddenly
a puff of wind came, and the sheets where whipped out of his
nerveless hand, while the sail thus loosened blew forward.
David's heart quaked at this, and he knew not what to do. With some
vague idea of bringing the boat back to her former position, and
beginning all over again, he pulled the tiller first to one side
and then to the other; but to his dismay he found that the boat no
longer obeyed it. Then he tried to get possession of the sheets
again, and, clumsily crawling forward, he managed to secure them;
after which he crawled back to the stern, and clinging to the
sheets, began, as well as his nervousness would allow him, to try
a series of experiments. First, he pulled the tiller towards him.
At this the boat came up to the wind, and resumed her former
course. But this was the very course on which he did not wish
to go; so he pushed the tiller from him. Upon this the boat fell
away; and the flapping, jerking, whipping, and snapping, which
had so alarmed him before, recommenced, and alarmed him more than
ever. For some time he continued this, until at length, as he
brought the boat up to the wind once more, there came a fresher
puff than any which had thus far blown, and the boat lay far over
on her side. Terrified out of his wits, David had just sense
enough to put her off, and then dropping sheets and tiller, he
sank back and looked all around in a panic.
This puff was the beginning of a somewhat stronger breeze--a breeze
which would have rejoiced the heart of a sailor, but which carried
nothing but terror to the heart of David. What to do now he did
not know, nor for some moments did he even think. The wind to his
inexperienced senses seemed a hurricane, and the wavelets seemed
formidable waves. For a time he lay paralyzed in the stern, expecting
every instant to be ingulfed; but as the time passed, and his doom
was delayed, he began to recover himself, and think about what he
should do next.
To him, in his terror and anxiety, the first necessity seemed to
be to get rid of that dangerous sail. As it flapped in the wind
it seemed to endanger the boat. At all hazards that must be furled
or taken down. So once more, by a mighty effort, he crawled forward,
and grasping the flying sheets, he drew them in, and tied the sail
to the mast, performing, the work in a manner which was very clumsy,
yet quite efficient. The upper part of the sail still remained
free, bagging out a little, like a balloon; but the lower part was
tied up in a way that would defy the tempest itself. After this
David felt safer, and crawling back, he drew a long breath, and
threw a fearful glance around.
Some time had been taken up with these experiments in navigation,
and as David looked, he saw that the result had been not to bring
him nearer to Castellamare, but to take him farther out from the
shore. The nearest land to him now was an island, but what island
he could not say. As his eyes wandered around, they saw nothing
that was familiar. A mountain appeared over the land astern, and
the smoke on its summit showed that it must be Vesuvius; but it
had a different appearance altogether from that with which he was
familiar. He could form no idea of the course which he had taken,
and could only guess, in a general way, where Castellamare might be.
Some time before, he had been troubled at the thought that he would
keep his party waiting; but now he had no trouble whatever on that
score. His only trouble or anxiety was about himself. He felt as
though he was in a position of tremendous danger, and was being
tossed about by pitiless waves, which were hemming him in on every
side, like ravening beasts of prey. In reality the pitiless waves
were scarcely waves at all, the breeze was only moderate, and there
was no possible danger; but David did not know this, and so he
suffered as much as though his imaginary danger was real.
Meanwhile a portion of the sail had been left loose, as has been
said, and afforded something for the breeze to act upon. The
consequence was, that the boat moved along slowly before the wind,
and gradually approached the island which David had already noticed.
For some time he remained with his eyes fixed upon the land astern,
and Vesuvius. When he withdrew them and looked around, the island
was much nearer. He began to see that he was approaching that
island, and that before long he would reach it. This prospect
excited in his mind the utmost hope, and all his attention was now
directed towards that place. The time passed slowly, but it did
pass; and at length, about three hours after he had first tried to
turn the boat, he found himself so close to the island that he
could step ashore.
It was now about ten o'clock. The place where David landed was a
pebbled beach, bordered by rocks, above which grew trees. As he
approached the island he saw houses and people. The houses were
plain and small, and the people seemed laboring in the fields.
David's habit of considering all Italian peasants as brigands now
excited in his mind a fear which brought fresh anxieties. On this
lonely island the whole population might be brigands, who would
treat him as lawful prey, and from whom he could hope to fare no
better than those early shipwrecked mariners in these seas about
whom he had read and studied so much. He congratulated himself that
his boat had borne him to a sequestered spot like this, where he
might be secure from observation, and have time to look forth and
see what manner of men these island brigands might be.
And so, full of anxiety, David drew his boat cautiously upon the
beach as far as he could, and secured it; after which he stole up
to the shelter of the trees and rocks, so as to reconnoitre. The
trees grew along the edge of the rocks, which rose above the beach,
to a height of about twenty feet, and formed a grove, which was
sufficiently dense for David to feel secure from observation. The
grove ran along the edge of the bank for some distance, bat was of
no great depth; and David, as he peered through the trees, could
see an opening beyond, and the glimpse of white buildings. Here,
then, David found himself close to the dreaded neighborhood of the
brigands of the island, and it was with a feeling of great trepidation
that he recognized the frailty of his present shelter, the
insufficiency of his place of concealment, and the necessity that
there was of leaving it before long.
To quit it and communicate with the inhabitants of the place, he
plainly saw, could not long be avoided. He had as yet eaten nothing,
and already he began to feel the cravings of hunger. He would also
have to take measures to effect his return to his friends. His
hunger and his desire to get back to his friends alike made him
desperate; and so, after a few minutes of concealment and fearful
inspection of the scene, he began to move forward cautiously, so
as to make a more thorough survey of the open ground on the other
side of the grove.
Stealing forward as noiselessly and as warily as possible, and
keeping himself carefully under the shelter of the heavier foliage
and denser underbrush, David worked his way on, and at length found
himself on the other side of the grove, where he could peer forth
through the leaves of a laurel bush upon the scene.
He saw here a green meadow, which ran up a moderate declivity till
it reached a house. The house was a small cottage, of simple and
neat appearance, and it stood not more than a hundred yards from
the edge of the grove. Cattle were feeding in the meadow. To the
right was a vineyard, and on the left an olive grove. On one side
of the olive grove there ran a row of cactuses, up from the bank
towards the house.
All this David took, in at a glance; but he also saw something
which made his heart, beat quick with excitement and anxiety.
He saw a man!
The man was standing in front of the house. He was a big, burly,
broad-shouldered, bearded ruffian, with a red shirt, and a slouching
felt hat. A short pipe was in his mouth, stuck into the mass of
hair which covered the lower part of his face. His hair was long,
and dark, and glossy, and curling; falling in rich clusters below
his broad felt hat. He had gaiters and stout shoes, and was engaged
upon a rifle, which he seemed to be cleaning.
At the sight of this great, big, bearded, Burly, broad-shouldered
ruffian, David's' heart gave a great leap, and suddenly seemed to
stop beating. He sat as though petrified, crouching low, as though
to avoid observation.
This, then, he thought, was what he had feared, and while trying
to avoid the brigands, he had stumbled upon the chief of them all.
In that formidable figure he recognized the true brigand style,
and in that bearded face, with its bushy eyebrows and slouching
hat, he saw what seemed to him, from that distance, like the ferocity
of the implacable Fra Diavolo himself.
So overwhelmed was he, that for some time he could not move. At
last he felt a wild impulse to fly. He started back, determining
to seek his boat once more. So hurried was he that he was less
cautious than before, and catching his foot in a long tendril of
some creeper, he fell. In falling, he struck his hand against some
cactus or other thorny plant, and the spine pierced his flesh,
causing severe pain. In spite of himself a cry burst from him. The
cry was instantly repressed, and David, raising himself, prepared
to continue his retreat. But first he looked fearfully around to
see whether his cry had discovered him.
As he did so his heart sunk within him.
The brigand chief had heard him!
He was walking straight towards him!