AN INTERRUPTED SAIL
When Lucia reached the road above she ran as fast as she could. She
had been so startled at what she had heard that her thoughts were
confused. But as she hurried along her mind cleared.
"Perhaps they are all right, and the man is just going for a row," she
said to herself. But the memory of the boatman's words returned to her.
"It's a risky business."
She did her best to attach no importance to it, but back in her brain
was the firm conviction that the man with the hat was one of the
Austrians that Roderigo had spoken of. "An Italian citizen on the face
of things, but in their hearts--" Lucia instinctively mimicked
Roderigo's gesture. She knew too, that argue though she might, she
would interfere.
When she reached the garden she heard Beppi crying and saw a light in
his window above. Beppi did not cry very often and by the sound she
thought he was in pain.
She hurried into the house and ran upstairs. Nana met her at the door
of Beppi's room; she was wringing her hands.
"So you are back," she cried, "well, praise the Saints for that, I
thought I should lose you both on the same day."
"'Lose us,' what are you talking about?" Lucia demanded, pushing past
her to the bed.
"Beppino mio, what has happened?" she asked, though there was little
need to question for a deep cut in Beppi's cheek, from which the blood
spurted freely, was answer enough.
"My face, Lucia, it hurts me so, make it stop bleeding," Beppi pleaded,
"I fell on a big rock in the garden."
"Caro mio, how long ago?" Lucia asked excitedly, "here quick, Nana, get
me some hot water, I will wash it as I saw Sister Veronica wash the
soldiers. There, there, darling, it will soon be better."
With trembling fingers Nana and the old servant, Amelie, brought a
basin and a towel, and Lucia bathed the wound. It was a deep cut and
poor Beppi winced as the water touched it.
After a little the blood stopped and Lucia bound up his head in soft
white cloths.
"Stay by me," Beppi begged, "don't go way downstairs, I am afraid."
"Poor angel," Amelie cried, "he won't be left alone; old Amelie will
bring up the little sister's dinner and she can eat by his bedside,"
and she hurried off, crooning to herself as she went to the kitchen
below.
Nana, now that she knew that Beppi was not going to die, started
scolding him for not looking where he was going, but Lucia sent her
downstairs.
"He is too tired to listen to-night, Nana, and anyway he will be
careful. Do go away and rest a little, you must be tired."
When Nana had left, Lucia returned to the bed and sat down. She did
not have any idea what time it was, and she knew that it would be
impossible to leave Beppi until he was quiet. She hardly touched the
tempting tray that Amelie brought her, and her voice trembled as she
asked what time it was.
"Ten minutes after seven," Amelie told her after she had carefully
consulted the big hall clock.
"Oh!" Lucia was surprised and relieved. She thought she must have
slept for hours, but now she realized that in reality she had only
dozed for a few minutes.
She took Beppi's hand and set about putting him to sleep. It was a
difficult task. She told him story after story, but at the end of each
his eyes were bright and his demand for another one as insistent as
ever.
Lucia kept time by the chimes of the clock, and at ten she turned out
the light.
"I am coming to bed beside you," she explained as Beppi protested, "I
think the light will hurt your head." She took off her dress and
slipped on her nightgown. Beppi snuggled contentedly into her arm, and
she went on with her stories.
"Sing to me," he asked at last, sleepily, "your song," and Lucia began
very softly to sing.
"O'er sea the silver star brightly is glowing,
Rocked now the billows are.
Soft winds are blowing,
Come to my bark with me.
Come sail across the sea.
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia."
Beppi's even breathing rewarded her efforts. She slipped her arm from
under his head and stole softly out of the room just as the clock
chimed eleven. She put on her dress hurriedly.
The house was very still as she crept downstairs and out into the
garden. The stars were out and it was an easy matter to find her way.
She ran until she reached the path that led to the shore, then she
moved very cautiously. She hoped to reach the guard, tell him what she
had heard, and then go home, but when she reached the beach she
realized that she was too late.
There was no guard in sight, but her ears detected the splash of oars,
and she knew that the boatman was coming. She crouched down beside the
wall and waited. She watched him pull his boat up on shore and then
walk swiftly off in the opposite direction from her.
She did not know what to do, and she was frightened--badly frightened.
The broad shining water on one side and the hill on the other seemed to
hem her in, and she felt lost. It was not like the mountains of
Cellino, where she knew every path.
She crouched down by the wall and waited. Another figure joined the
boatman, and they stood still, a little farther up the beach. Lucia
knew it was the man she had seen that afternoon, and she knew too that
in a very few seconds they would turn around and come back to the boat.
With a courage born of fear she jumped up and before she quite realized
what she was doing she was tugging at the boat.
It was not very high up on the beach for the boatman had left it so
that it would be easily shoved off. Fortunately the tide was going
out. Lucia's arms were strong and she pushed with a will. The boat
found the water and drifted silently away.
Her feet were wet, but she did not realize it. She crept back to the
beach and flattened herself against the wall. The men returned. They
too kept in the shadow of the wall. It was not until they were almost
brushing against Lucia that the boatman noticed that his boat was gone.
"The Saints preserve us!" he exclaimed. "It has been spirited away. I
knew I should be punished for doing such a black deed."
"Spirits, nonsense!" the man spoke angrily. "It is your own stupid
carelessness, you did not pull it up on shore far enough. You
rattlebrain idiot, I've a good mind to kill you for this. See, there
is your boat out there--empty--go and get it. Do you hear?"
"But how?" the boatman wrung his hands desperately. "I do not know how
to swim. I will die. Santa Lucia, Saint of sailormen, spare me," he
screamed as the man lifted his heavy cane to strike him.
"Don't you dare strike that man!" Lucia exclaimed, "he did pull his
boat up on shore, but I pushed it off. I heard you this afternoon, and
I knew you wanted to go away to that big ship out there, and perhaps
sail to Austria. I know what you are, you two-faced man. You speak,
you laugh, you scold in Italian, and all the time your black heart is
Austrian."
"You shall not go away from here. I, Lucia Rudini, tell you, you shall
not!"
"Santa Lucia! A miracle!" The boatman trembled with fear, but the man
was not so superstitious. He caught Lucia's arm and shook her roughly.
"You did it, you little fiend, well, you shall get what you deserve for
your meddling." He motioned to the frightened boatman. "Get me a
rope, I'll make a gag of my handkerchief; hurry man, if you are found
you will be shot."
"But I dare not, I dare not, she is the spirit of Santa Lucia. She
came when I called. The Saints have mercy!"
With a growl of disgust the man turned from him and caught both of
Lucia's wrists in his firm clasp. Then he lifted his cane.
"She must not tell until we are well away," he said, and brought the
cane down heavily. It was his intention to stun Lucia, but he had
miscalculated when he expected her to stand still and receive the blow.
She dodged to the right and began kicking and struggling. The boatman
wrung his hands and screamed for help.
It was not many minutes before the guard, attracted by the noise, came
running towards them. The man's back was towards him, but Lucia saw
him and stopped struggling.
The man raised his cane again but this time he stopped, because the
muzzle of a gun was pressing him between the shoulder blades.
Lucia turned to the guard and explained hurriedly. In the starlight
she could see that he had a long scar across his face, and she felt
very secure.
"I know your nephew, Roderigo," she ended, "he helped me blow up the
bridge in Cellino."
The soldier nodded.
"I know about that, Señorina," he said respectfully, "and the rest of
your fine deeds. You were born for the work it seems. Move an inch
and off comes your head," he turned furiously on the man who had tried
to edge away. Then he continued in the soft, courteous tones he had
been using. "I hope some day you will do me the honor of telling me of
the attack yourself," he said. "It is sometimes very lonely here while
I am on guard."
His gentle tone, and above all the flattering respect he showed, gave
Lucia back her courage.
"Of course I will come," she said, "just as soon as my little brother
is better. He fell and cut his head, and, and--well, I guess I'd
better be going back, he may awaken and be frightened. Good night."
"Good night, Señorina," the soldier replied, "I am proud to have seen
you."
"Now then,--" his voice became harsh again as he turned to his
prisoners, "go along, one wink of your eyelid in the wrong direction
and I will shoot."
He marched them off quickly, and Lucia, because the affair seemed
finished, started for home.