_David Captured.--The big, bluff, burly, brusque, bearded,
broad-shouldered, beetle-browed Bully of a Brigand.--A terrific
Inquisition.--David's Plea for Mercy.--The hard-hearted Captor and
the trembling Captive.--A direful Threat.--David carried off helpless
and despairing.--The Robber's Hold._
So this great, big, bluff, burly, brusque, bearded, broad-shouldered,
beetle-browed brigand came straight towards the place where poor
David was; walking with great strides; and David, seeing all hope
lost, stood still, and awaited the arrival of his formidable enemy.
The consciousness of his utter helplessness filled him with despair,
and his ignorance of Italian put it out of his power to disarm the
fury or deprecate the wrath of his fierce pursuer. In the few
moments that intervened between the first discovery that he was
seen and the arrival of his enemy, his brain was filled with
confusion, and his bewildered thoughts turned helplessly to his
friends whom he had left behind. He thought of their grief. He
thought, too, of his home. He thought, of his mother. That home,
those friends, that loving, mother, he now might never see again.
Farewell, all dear ones! Farewell, bright past! Farewell, sweet
life, and glad light of day! Such were the thoughts, gloomy and
despairing, that filled his mind, and tormented his heart; and at
the moment that his pursuer entered the grove and stood before him,
David looked up with pale face and frightened eyes, and something
like a sob escaped him.
The big, burly brigand stood before him, and eyed him from head to
foot. He was very tall, and, indeed, to David he seemed gigantic,
while his right hand held the rifle like a walking-stick. He looked
at David in silence, and scanned him curiously all over; and David's
eyes, which had at first sought those of his captor in timid
entreaty, now sank before his stern gaze.
"_Cosa volete?_" said the brigand. "_Donde venite?_" in a deep
voice.
"_Non capisco_," faltered David, bringing forth the only Italian
that he knew.
At this the brigand was silent, and again surveyed him.
"_Parlate Italiano?_" he asked, at length.
"No," said David, in a tremulous voice; for he understood the
meaning of those words well enough.
"Hm--" said the brigand, and then, "_Parlez vous Francais?_"
"No," said David.
"_Habla usted Espanol?_" asked the brigand once more, apparently
quite curious to find out the nationality of his prisoner, so as
to form some basis of communication with him.
David shook his head.
The brigand paused, and frowned, and stared fixedly at David, as
though trying to gather from his looks and dress what his country
might be. David's dress showed him to be a respectable youth,
while his face might belong to any nationality; for his complexion
was dark, and somewhat sallow, his eyes dark, his hair black and
straight, and his frame slender.
"_Sprechen sie Deutsch?_" asked the brigand, once, more returning
to the examination.
David shook his head.
At this the brigand frowned, and once more relapsed into silence
for some time. At length he made a further effort.
"_Russo?_" he asked, in an interrogative tone, elevating his
eyebrows.
David shook his head.
"_Turco?_" asked the brigand again, in the same tone and manner.
Again David shook his head, wondering why the brigand should for
one moment imagine it possible that he could be a Russian or a
Turk.
"_Greco?_" asked the brigand, in a tone of voice which seemed as
though he was about to give it up as a hopeless conundrum.
When David shook his head at this, the brigand turned away in
disgust, and stood for a few moments meditating. David felt his
fate to be hanging in the balance, and stood in deep suspense,
watching with anxious eyes the face of his captor. But the heavy
beard and mustache, and the slouched felt hat, concealed all
expression; nor could David see anything there which could at all
lessen his anxiety. He thought, however, that if he could only
communicate in some way his mournful story, and let his captor see
that he had come here unintentionally, and only wanted to get back
to his friends, he might excite his compassion, if indeed there
was any compassion in the stern soul of this awful being. It was
David's only chance, however; and so, putting his hand timidly on
the brigand's arm, he pointed towards the shore, and waved his arm
towards Naples.
At this the brigand stared; but seeing that David persistently
pointed in that direction, he walked off through the grove for a
few paces, till he reached the top of the bank, where the beach
appeared before him, and the boat drawn up on it. David followed
him, and as they came in sight of the boat he pointed towards it,
and then touched his breast, meaning by that to show that the boat
was his. This the brigand at once understood, and after once more
staring hard at David, as though anxious to ascertain whether he
was speaking the truth or not, he bounded down the bank, and strode
towards the boat, which he examined narrowly, inside and out. Daring
this time he paid no attention to David; but to the poor lost lad
this indifference gave no hope. He knew that there was no escape
for him. He felt that on this island the brigand was supreme, and
any effort to fly would only be worse than useless. So, instead of
trying to fly, he followed the brigand, and came up to where he
was standing beside the boat.
The brigand examined it very narrowly outside and inside. He
inspected the bow, the stern, and the rudder. He knelt down and
looked underneath. He stepped inside and examined David's clumsy
fastenings of the sail. These excited much interest, apparently,
and caused prolonged study on his part. To David all this appeared
perfectly intelligible, and very natural. The brigand was evidently
examining his plunder, to see what it was worth. David felt an
additional pang of grief at the thought that he had sequestrated
the property of some innocent Castellamare fisherman, and diverted
it into the possession of brigands; but he consoled himself by the
thought that if he ever escaped he could hunt up the owner and make
good the loss. Escape for himself was the first thing, and he tried
to hope that the boat might prove a prize sufficiently valuable to
mollify the mind of the brigand, and dispose him to mercy and
compassion. So, as the brigand inspected the boat, David stood
watching the brigand, and looking earnestly to see whether there
were any signs of a relenting disposition. But the face of the
brigand preserved an unchanged expression; and after he had examined
the boat to his satisfaction, he once more confronted David, and
the poor, forlorn, despairing lad saw that his aspect was as malign,
as ferocious, and as truculent as ever.
David determined to make a further effort. There was nothing else
to be done. He felt that he must pacify this ferocious being, disarm
his hostility, appease his cruelty, and, if possible, excite his
compassion. To do all this, it would be necessary to express himself
by signs--for he could not speak the language; and though signs
seemed very inadequate, yet he had to resort to them. He had heard,
however, of the skill of the Italians in expressing ideas by means
of gestures, and he hoped that this man might gain some meaning
from his unskilled efforts.
So, first of all, he tried to tell the brigand that he was from.
America. He laid one hand on his heart, and waved the other towards
what he supposed to be the west.
The brigand nodded solemnly, and seemed to comprehend what he wished
to state. It gratified David to see this, and to notice also that
the brigand was very attentive, and fixed his dark, stern eyes upon
him with closest scrutiny.
The next thing that David tried to tell him was, that he had friends
with him.
This he did by patting his breast, waving his arms around him,
smiling, and touching four of his fingers.
The brigand nodded. He had apparently got idea.
David was very much encouraged.
The next thing to be told was, that he and his friends had gone on
an excursion into the country.
This he did by prancing along the sand, and snapping an imaginary
whip; after which he pointed to the opposite shore, waving his hand
along the country.
The brigand nodded again, and appeared deeply interested.
The next thing to be told was, that he had put off in this boat.
He waved his hand towards Vesuvius. Then he lay down on the
sand, and pretended to be asleep. He then rose, yawned, and
rubbed his eyes. Then he went to the boat, pretended to push
off and hoist sail.
The brigand now nodded very vigorously, and it began to be evident
to David that his story was making some impression.
He now wished to explain that the boat had got beyond his control,
on account of his ignorance of navigation, and that he had drifted
or been blown upon this shore.
To do this, he pointed to the boat, then to himself; after which
he sighed and looked down in a melancholy way. Then he got into
the boat and shook the sail. Then he jumped out and rocked it as
violently as he could. Then he sank back on one knee with folded
arms and upturned face, intending by that to indicate despair. Then
he waved his hands all about, and pointed to the boat and to the
sea; and then, pointing alternately to the boat and to the sea, he
waved his hands, trying to indicate the track over which he had
passed while approaching the island. After this he paused, and
turned a supplicatory look at his captor.
Thereupon the brigand nodded vehemently, as before.
And now one thing yet remained for David to explain, and that was,
his own position. He wished to tell the brigand that he knew he
was in his power, and that he would pay any ransom, if he would
only restore him to his friends.
To explain this, David took the big hand of the brigand, and put
it upon his head, stooping down low as he did so. Then he waved
his arms all around, and mournfully shook his head. Which meant,
that he was in the brigand's power, and would not and could not
escape. Then he drew forth his purse, tapped it several times, held
it out to the brigand, waved his hands towards Naples, slapped his
breast, and pointed to the brigand and to himself. Which meant,
that he would pay any money, that he had friends in Naples who
would treat with the brigand for his release on his own terms.
Having explained this much, David stopped, for he felt that there
was nothing more for him to do, and watched the effect of his story,
and his concluding offer.
The brigand seemed gratified. He nodded several times gravely and
thoughtfully. Then he looked at the boat, and then at David, and
then at the sea. To David it seemed as if the brigand was trying
to trace the boat's devious track over the water, so as to see
whether his story was true or not. He did not offer any further
explanations, but allowed the brigand to think it out for himself.
That worthy accordingly devoted his mind to the consideration of
the situation for some time, until at length he seemed to have
mastered it, and also to have come to a decision about his own
course of conduct.
He reached out his brawny hand, and laid it on David's head. After
which he pointed to himself, and nodded.
By this David saw, unmistakably, that the brigand was claiming
him as his own captive. Although the fact was already painfully
evident, yet this formal statement of it produced a very depressing
effect upon David's mind, and made him feel that he had been
indulging in hopes too soon. Then the brigand waved his hand
towards the fields, and the cottage beyond the grove. After this,
he waved his hand in a general direction, and then swept it over
the surrounding scene. He pointed to the island and nodded,
pointed to Naples and shook his head.
By which David understood him to say, "You are my prisoner. I live
in that house. You shall be kept there. You can't escape."
Then the brigand raised his gun, and nodded at David. Then he
slapped the stock of it several times, fixing his keen, glowing
eyes gloomily upon the lad as he did so. Then he waved his hand
towards the sky.
By which David understood the following:--
"You're my prisoner! You cannot escape! If you dare try it, I will
shoot you! You can no more escape than you can fly in the air!"
Then the brigand pointed to the boat, and touched his breast.
By which David understood,--
"This boat is mine, and I will keep it as my lawful prize."
Then he waved his hand to the house, and then pointed to Naples.
After which he brought forth a purse from his pocket, tapped it
significantly, pointed to David, and then to Naples.
By which David understood,--
"I will keep you as a prisoner up there in my house till I communicate
with your friends about your ransom, and find out how much I can
get for you."
After this the brigand pulled the boat farther up on the beach,
and then, beckoning to David to follow, he strode off towards
the house.
Slowly and sadly poor David followed; and hope, which had for a
moment revived, began to die out within him. He had been deceived
by the demeanor of the brigand, during his own description of his
woes and wandering, and had mistaken for compassion what was only
ordinary attention. The manner of the brigand, when he had began
to gesticulate, changed hope to fear, and fear to despair. The
merciless allusion to David's captive state; the rude appropriation
of him as a prisoner by the grasp of his head; the ferocious threat
with the gun; and, finally, the display of the purse, and the coarse
reference to money and ransom, all convinced David that he had to
do with one who was a stranger to compassion--a ferocious and
ruthless nature, without pity, and without remorse. And now, as
his captor led the way to the house, he felt that he was being
conveyed to a prison, from which his escape was, indeed, uncertain;
for, though he knew that Uncle Moses would pay any ransom, yet he
could not know whether the brigand would ever be able to communicate
with him or not. On the whole, it was the darkest hour of his life;
and the stride of the ruffian in front of him seemed like the march
of inevitable Fate!
They climbed up the bank, and then went through the grove. Emerging
into the field, they walked on towards the house. As they drew
nearer, David saw signs that were not altogether in keeping with
the tough exterior of his enemy, for in front of the cottage
there were flowers in bloom, which appeared to be cultivated by
some careful hand; but a moment's thought showed David that this
might be the work of the robber's wife. The prospect of meeting
with a woman afforded hope; for whatever the husband might be,
the wife might be gentle, and pitiful, and womanly; and David
drew hope from the flowers; for the one that would have tastes
like these might not be altogether hard and implacable; and as
the giants and ogres of the fairy books had wives who generally
were willing to help the victims of their husbands, so here, in
the wife of this Italian ogre, David hoped to find one who might
be as merciful as those of fairy lore.
At length they reached the house, and the brigand, after waiting
for a moment for his prisoner to come up, entered the door. David
followed, and found himself inside.
The door opened immediately into a room. It was large and low. The
floor was paved with red tiles, and the walls were of wood, varnished.
Around the walls hung numerous pictures without frames. In different
places there were confused heaps of clothing and drapery. The
clothing was rich, though fantastic. In one corner was a frame with
armor suspended; while over this, on the wall, he saw arms of
different kinds--pistols, carbines, daggers, and blunderbusses.
The fashion of all these was somewhat antique, and there was a
richness in their ornaments which even David noticed, in spite of
his trouble and anxiety. The furniture about the room was
old-fashioned, formed of massive mahogany, carved most elaborately,
and was of so many different styles that the pieces seemed thrown
together at random. A Glastonbury chair stood beside an Elizabethan
sofa; a modern Davenport, a Louis Quatorze side-board, and a classic
tripod, stood in a row. Some Chinese tables were in one corner. In
the centre of the room was a table of massive construction, with
richly carved legs, that seemed as old as the middle ages; while
beside it was an American rocking-chair, in which lay a guitar.
The whole scene struck David as being perfectly in keeping with
his captor; for this interior looked like some pictures which he
had seen of robber holds, where the accumulated plunder of years
is heaped indiscriminately together, and reminded him vividly of
the descriptions which he had read of the abodes of pirates or
brigands, in the novels of Cooper, in Francisco, the Pirate of the
Pacific, Lafitte, the Pirate of the Gulf, and Rinaldo Rinaldini.