"SPERA IN DIO"
After the ceremony of the _karva tajstvo_, all the men who had taken
part in it met together at Janko Markovic's house, so as to come to a
decision as to what they were to do in their endeavours to capture
the murderer. All the information that had been got in Budua about
Vranic helped to show that he had embarked on board of an Italian
ship, the _Diana_, which had sailed the evening of the murder. If
this were the case, nothing could be done for the present but wait
patiently till they could come across him, the communications between
Budua and Naples being few and far between.
"Well," said Milenko, "I'll sail at dawn for Trieste. It is one of
the best places where I can get some information about this ship.
Moreover, I'll do my best to get a cargo for one of the ports to
which she might be destined, and I must really be very unlucky not to
come across him before the year is out."
"And," replied Janko Markovic, "if our information is wrong--if,
after all, he's still lurking in this neighbourhood, or hiding
somewhere in Montenegro, we shall soon get at him."
"We have taken the oath," replied all the friends.
"Thank you. I'm sure that Uros' death will very soon be avenged."
_Slivovitz_ and wine were then brought out to drink to the success of
the _karva tajstvo_.
At the first glimmer of dawn, Milenko bade his mother farewell and
asked her to kiss Mara and Milena for him; then, receiving his
father's blessing, and accompanied by all his friends, he left home
and went to the ship.
All the cargo had been taken on board several days before, the papers
were in due order, and the ship was now ready to start at a moment's
notice.
No sooner had Milenko got on board than the sleeping crew was roused,
the sails were stretched, the anchor was heaved, and the ship began
to glide on the smooth surface of the waters.
"_Srecno hodi_" (a pleasant voyage), shouted the friends, applauding
on the pier.
"_Z' Bogam_" (God be with you), replied Milenko.
"_Zivio!_" answered the friends.
The young captain saw the houses of Budua disappear, with a sigh. A
heaviness came over him as his eyes rested on a white speck gleaming
amidst the surrounding dark rocks. It was the Convent of St. George,
where, in his mind's eye, he could see his dearly beloved Uros lying
still and lifeless on his narrow bed.
Then a deep feeling of regret came over him. Why had he rushed away,
when his friend had scarcely uttered his last breath? He might have
waited a day or two; Vranic would not escape him at the end.
Never before--not even the first time he had left home--had he felt
so sad in quitting Budua. He almost fancied now his heart was reft in
two, and that the better part had remained behind with his friend.
Not even the thought of Ivanka, whom he so dearly loved, could
comfort him. A sailor's life--which had hitherto had such a charm for
him while his friend was on board the same ship with him--now lost
all its attraction, and if he had not been prompted by his craving
for revenge, he would have taken the ship to Trieste (where she was
bound to), and there, having sold his share, he would have gone back
to Budua.
The days seemed endless to him. The crew of the ship, although
composed of Dalmatians, was almost of an alien race; they were from
the island of Lussin, and Roman Catholics besides--in fact, quite
different people from the inhabitants of Budua or the Kotor; and, had
it not been for a youth whom he had embarked with him from his native
town, he would have scarcely spoken to anyone the whole of the
voyage, except, of course, to give the necessary orders.
No life, indeed, is lonelier than that of a captain having no mate,
boatswain or second officer with him. Fortunately, however, for
Milenko, Peric--the youth he had taken with him to teach him
navigation--was a rather intelligent lad, and, as it was the first
time he had left home, he was somewhat homesick, so, in their moments
of despondency, each one tried to cheer and comfort the other.
In the night--keeping watch on deck--he would often, as in his
childhood, lean over the side of the ship and look within the fast
flowing waters. When the sea was as smooth and as dark as a metal
mirror, he--after gazing in it for some time--usually saw the water
get hazy and whitish; then, little by little, strange sights appear
and disappear. Some of them were prophetic visions. Once, he saw
within the waters a frigate on fire. It was, indeed, a sight worth
seeing. The vision repeated itself three times. Milenko, feeling
rather anxious, began to look around, and then he saw a faint light
far on the open sea. There was no land or island there. Could that
light, he asked himself, be that of a ship on fire? He at once gave
orders to steer in the direction of the light. As the distance
diminished, the brightness grew apace. The flames, that could now be
seen rising up in the sky, made the men believe that it was some new
submarine volcano. Milenko, however, felt that his vision had been
prophetic.
He added more sails; and, as the breeze was favourable, the _Spera in
Dio_ flew swiftly on the waters. Soon he could not only see the
flames, but the hulk of the ship, which looked like a burning island;
moreover, the cargo must have been either oil or resin, for the sea
itself seemed on fire.
In the glare the conflagration shed all around, Milenko perceived a
small boat struggling hard to keep afloat, for it was so over-crowded
that, at every stroke of the oars, it seemed about to sink.
The joy of that shipwrecked crew, finding themselves safe on board
the _Spera in Dio_, was inexpressible.
Another time he saw, within the sea, the country beyond the walls of
his native town. A boy of about ten was leading an old horse in the
fields. After some time, the boy seemed to look for some stump on
which to tether the horse he had led to pasture; but, finding none,
he tied the rope round his own ankle and lay down to sleep. Suddenly,
the old horse--frightened at something--began to run, the boy awoke
and tried to rise, but he stumbled and fell. His screams evidently
frightened the old horse, which ran faster and ever faster, dragging
the poor boy through the bushes and briars, dashing him against the
stones of the roadside. When, at last, the horse was stopped, the boy
was only a bruised and bleeding mass.
"Oh," said Milenko to Peric, "I have had such a horrible vision!"
"I hope it is not about my little brother," replied the youth.
"Why?"
"I really don't know; but all at once the idea came into my head that
the poor boy must have died."
"Strange!" quoth Milenko, as he walked away, not to be questioned as
to his vision.
One evening, when the moon had gone below the horizon looking like a
reaping-hook steeped in blood, and nothing could be seen all around
but the broad expanse of the dark waters, reflecting the tiny stars
twinkling in the sky above, Milenko saw, all at once, the white walls
of St. George's Convent. The doors, usually shut, were now opened.
Uros appeared on the threshold. There he received the blessing of the
old monk who had tended him during his illness, and whose hands he
now kissed with even more affection and thankfulness than devotion;
then, hugged and kissed by all the other caloyers, who had got to be
as fond of him as of a son or a brother, he bade them all farewell.
Then, leaning on Milena's arm, and followed by his father and mother,
he wended his way down the mountain and towards the town. Uros was
still thin and pale, but all traces of suffering had disappeared from
his face. Though he and Milena were man and wife--having been married
_in extremis_--still they were lovers, and his weakness was a
plausible pretext to lean lovingly on her arm, and stop every now and
then to look lovingly within her lustrous eyes, and thus give vent to
the passion that lay heavy on his heart; and once, when his parents
had disappeared behind a corner, he stopped, put his arm round her
waist, then their lips met in a long, silent kiss, which brought the
blood up to their cheeks. Then the picture faded, and the waters were
again as black as night; only, his ears whistled, and he almost
fancied he could hear Uros' voice in a distance speaking of him.
Of course, Milenko knew that all this was but a delusion, a dream, a
hallucination of his fancy, and he tried to think of his friend lying
stiff and stark within his coffin; still, his imagination was unruly,
and showed him Uros at home alive and happy.
These visions about his friend were all the same; thus, nearly three
weeks after he had left Budua, one evening, when sad and gloomy, he
was thinking of Uros' funeral, to which he now regretted not to have
remained and assisted, he saw, within the depths of the dark blue
sea, Bellacic's house adorned as for a great festivity. Not only was
a banquet prepared; _guzlars_ played on their instruments, and guests
arrived in holiday attire, but Uros, who had almost regained his
former good looks, was, in his dress of the Kotor, as handsome as a
_Macic_. Milena, as beautiful as when, in bridal attire, she had come
from Montenegro, was standing by his side. Soon Danilo Kvekvic came,
wearing a rich stole. The guests lighted the tapers they were
holding; wreaths were placed on Milena's and Uros' heads. This was
the wedding ceremony that would have taken place had Uros recovered
from his wound, and of which Milenko had certainly not been thinking.
Milenko at last reached Trieste, where he found a letter waiting for
him. The news it contained would have made his heart beat rapidly
with joy had Uros only been with him. Now, reading this letter, he
only heaved a deep sigh. It was almost a sigh of forlorn hope. Fate
but too often, whilst granting us a most coveted boon, seems to feel
a malicious pleasure either in disappointing us entirely, or, at
least, in blunting the edge of our joy. This letter was from
Giulianic, who, having redeemed his pledge from his friend Bellacic,
was now but too glad to have him for his son-in-law. Moreover, he
urged him to come over to Nona.
Nothing, indeed, prevented Milenko from consigning the ship to the
captain, who was waiting for him at Trieste, and selling his share of
the brig. Still, he could not think of doing so, or engaging himself,
or settling any time for his marriage before Uros' death had been
avenged. He, therefore, wrote at once to Giulianic, thanking him for
his kindness to him, stating, nevertheless, the reasons which obliged
him to postpone his marriage until the vows of the _karvarina_ had
been fulfilled.
At Trieste, Milenko found out that the _Diana_, the ship on which
Vranic was embarked, was a Genoese brig, usually sailing to and from
the Adriatic and the Levant ports; occasionally, she would come as
far as Trieste or Venice, usually laden with boxes of oranges and
lemons, and sail back with a cargo of timber. It would have been easy
enough to have him apprehended by one of the Austrian consuls in the
ports where the _Diana_ might be bound to, but the vengeance of the
_karva tajstvo_ is not done by deputy nor confided to the police.
At the shipbroker's to which the _Spera in Dio_ was consigned,
Milenko also found a letter from the captain, his partner in the
ship, saying that, far from coming to take charge of the ship, he was
inclined to sell his share; and Milenko, who was very anxious to be
free and to sail for those ports where he might easier come across
the _Diana_, bought the other half, and soon afterwards, having
managed to get a cargo of timber for Pozzuoli, he set sail without
delay, hoping to be in time to catch Vranic in Naples.
Not far from the rocky island of Melada, which the Dalmatians say is
the Melita of the Scriptures, the _Spera in Dio_ met with very stormy
weather and baffling winds. Thereabouts one rough and cloudy night,
when not only Milenko but almost all the men were on deck, they all
at once saw a ship looming in the darkness at a short distance from
them. The captain had either forgotten to hoist a light, or else had
let it go out. When they perceived that dark shadow, only a little
darker than the surrounding night, they did their utmost to steer out
of her way. The other ship likewise seemed to try and tack about, but
driven as she was by a strong head-wind, it was quite impossible to
make her change her direction and avoid a collision.
A few moments after the dark phantom was seen a loud crash was heard;
it was the groan of a monster falling with a thud upon his adversary,
felling him with his ponderous mass. The unknown ship had
unexpectedly come and butted against the _Spera in Dio_ amidships,
like a huge battering-ram, breaking the beams, shivering the planks,
cutting the harmless ship nearly in two, and allowing the waters to
pour in through the huge cleft.
Some of the sailors managed to climb up the other ship; most of the
crew clung to the timber with which the ship was laden. Milenko
remained on the sinking wreck until dawn.
The other ship--an Italian schooner--cruised about, and tried to
remain as much as she possibly could on the same spot, till early in
the morning, so as to pick up all the men of the wreck. Three of the
crew, however, must have been washed away, for they were not seen
anywhere, or ever afterwards heard of.
The schooner, that had been also considerably damaged, sailed to
Trieste as well as she could. Fortunately for Milenko, the _Spera in
Dio_ had been insured for more than her value, and happening to find
another ship for sale, the _Giustizia di Dio_, he bought it, and, on
the whole, made a very good bargain. He soon got another cargo for
Naples, and, a month after his return, he once more sailed in search
of Vranic.