Giovanni Severi's adventures, between his supposed death in the
massacre of the expedition and his unexpected reappearance at Massowah
nearly five years later, would fill an interesting little volume in
themselves; but inasmuch as an account of them would not make this
story clearer and would occupy much space, it is enough to state the
bare facts in a few words. Such tales of danger, suffering, and
endurance have often been told at first hand, by the heroes of them,
far more vividly and correctly than a mere story-teller can narrate
them on hearsay.
The expedition had been attacked and destroyed by a handful of natives
from a wandering tribe that was camping very near. Within a few
minutes their chief was informed of what they had done, and he rode
out to the spot with a large body of men at his heels. Among the dead,
Giovanni Severi lay bleeding from a gash in the head, but not mortally
hurt. The chief was by no means a mere dull savage, and finding an
Italian officer alive, he recognised at once that it would be a
mistake to knock him on the head and leave him with his comrades to be
disposed of by the vultures and hyænas. On the other hand, he must not
be allowed to escape to the Italian colony with news of the disaster.
At some future time, and from a safe distance, it might be possible to
obtain a large ransom for him; or, on the other hand, if a large force
were ever sent up the country to revenge the outrage, it might be to
the credit of the chief if he could prove that the deed had been done
without his knowledge and that he had treated the only survivor
humanely. He therefore took possession of Giovanni and provided for
his safety in a simple manner by merely stating that if the prisoner
escaped he would cut off ten heads, but if any harm came to him, he
would cut off at least a hundred. As no one doubted but that he would
keep his word, as he invariably did in such matters, Giovanni had but
small chance of ever regaining his liberty, and none at all presented
itself for nearly five years. During that time he travelled with his
captors or lived in camps, many hundreds of miles from the outposts of
civilisation; he learned their language and the chief insisted on
learning his, as it might be useful; furthermore, he was required to
teach his master whatever he could about modern warfare and what
little he knew of agriculture and its arts of peace. In return he was
well fed, well lodged when possible, and as well clad as any man in
the tribe except the chief himself, which was not saying much.
His chance came at last and he did not let it pass. It involved
killing one of his guards, stunning another, and seizing the chief's
own camel, and it was not without great risk to his life that he got
away. A fortnight later he had travelled five hundred miles and
reported himself at headquarters in Massowah, dressed in a long native
shirt, a dirty turban, and nothing else, as Captain Giovanni Severi,
formerly of the Staff and late of the expedition that had perished
five years earlier.
It chanced, for the inevitable was at work, that the mail steamer for
Italy was to leave the next morning and a small man-of-war on the
following day, also homeward bound. Giovanni wrote to Angela
Chiaromonte by the former and went on board the Government vessel
twenty-four hours afterwards. He himself sent no telegram, because he
did not know where his brothers were and he feared lest a telegraphic
message might give Angela a bad shock, if it reached her at all.
Moreover, he had no news of her and could get no information whatever,
so that he addressed his letter to Madame Bernard's old lodgings on
the mere possibility that it might reach its destination.
Any one might have supposed that the news of his escape would have
been in the papers before he reached Italy, for it was telegraphed to
the War Office in Rome by the officer in command of the force at
Massowah. But the Minister chose to keep the intelligence a secret
till Giovanni's arrival, because he expected to gain much information
from him and feared lest the newspapers should get hold of him and
learn facts from him which would be more useful to Italy if not made
public; and when the Italian Government wishes to keep a secret, it
can do so quite as well as any other, to the despair of the public
press.
The consequence of the Minister's instructions was that Giovanni was
met by a superior officer who came on board the man-of-war at Naples
in order to forestall any possible attempt on the part of
correspondents to get hold of him, and also for the purpose of giving
him further directions for his conduct. He was to proceed to Rome at
once, and the Minister would receive him privately on the following
day at twelve o'clock. He was recommended not to go to an hotel, but
to put up with his brother, who, as he now learned, was at Monteverde,
and had been privately informed of his arrival and warned to be
discreet.
The mail steamer which had brought Giovanni's letter to Madame Bernard
had stopped at Port Said, Alexandria, and Messina, but the man-of-war
came direct to Naples, and though slower than the packet-boat, arrived
there only a few hours later. Madame Bernard's inquiries, made through
the old colonel whose daughter she had formerly taught, proved
fruitless, because the War Office would not allow Giovanni's coming to
be known, and the result was that she took the letter home with her in
her bag, and spent the evening in a very disturbed state of mind,
debating with herself as to what she ought to do. She would have given
anything to open the envelope, if only to see the date, and once or
twice, when she reflected on the importance of knowing whether the
writer was alive before giving his letter to Sister Giovanna, she
almost yielded; but not quite, for she was an honourable little woman,
according to her lights.
Late on that night Giovanni got into the train that was to bring him
to Rome before Madame Bernard would be ready to go out in the morning.
Ugo Severi had been summoned by the Minister some days previously, and
had been told that his brother was alive and coming home, and would
lodge with him. Meanwhile Captain Ugo was put on his honour to say
nothing of the matter to his friends. Such a recommendation was, in
fact, needed, as Ugo would otherwise have informed the Princess
Chiaromonte, if no one else. Considering how much feeling she had
shown about Giovanni's supposed death, it would have been only humane
to do so; but the Minister's instructions were precise and emphatic,
and Ugo kept what he knew to himself and thought about it so
continually that Confucianism temporarily lost its interest for him.
He had always been on good terms with Giovanni, though they had not
seen much of each other after the latter was appointed to the Staff.
As for the brother who was in the Navy, Ugo rarely saw him or even
heard of him, and since their father had died he himself had led a
very lonely existence. His delight on learning that Giovanni had
escaped and was returning may be imagined, for, in spite of his
apparent coldness and love of solitude, he was a man of heart, and
like many Italians of all classes his ideal of happiness would have
been to live quietly under one roof with his brothers and sister.
There is probably no other people in the world that finds such
permanent satisfaction in what most of us would think a dull family
life. It is a survival of the ancient patriarchal way of living, when
the 'family' was a religion and its head was at once its absolute
ruler and its high priest.
The only preparation which Ugo had made for receiving Giovanni was the
purchase of an iron folding camp-bed. He told his orderly that a
brother officer of his might have to spend a night in the house before
long, which was strictly true. In due time a soldier on a bicycle
brought him an official note from the Minister, informing him that
Giovanni had reached Naples and would appear at Monteverde on the
following morning. This note came late in the afternoon, and Ugo
thought it needless to inform Pica, as Giovanni would certainly not
wish to go to bed as soon as he arrived, so that the little bedstead
need not be set up till he actually came.
At ten o'clock that evening, Ugo rose from his easy-chair, stretched
himself, and whistled for Pica as usual. The orderly brought him his
boots, his cloak, his sabre, and his cap, all of which he put on, as
he always did, before going downstairs, for it was the hour at which
he invariably inspected the neighbourhood. It was his practice to
begin by walking round the outside of the enclosure, his man carrying
a good lantern; he then examined the interior of the space, and
finally visited the guard-room and exchanged a word with the officer
on duty for the night. Of late, he had occasionally gone out again
between twelve and one o'clock, before going to bed; for two or three
suspicious-looking characters had been seen in the neighbourhood of
the magazine, like the man in the battered brown hat who had come upon
Pica one afternoon and had asked his way. There was, in fact, a
disquieting suspicion at headquarters that an attempt might be made to
blow up one of the magazines; the detachments of soldiers on duty had
therefore been strengthened and the officers in charge had been
instructed to exercise the greatest vigilance.
When Captain Ugo went out of his door as usual, with Pica at his
heels, the night was dark and it was just beginning to rain. The two
went directly from the little house to the gate of the enclosure, and
Ugo answered the sentry's challenge mechanically and walked briskly
along the straight wall to the corner. Turning to the right then, he
was following the next stretch at a good pace when he stumbled and
nearly fell over something that lay in his path. As Pica held up the
lantern close behind him, a man sprang up from the ground, where he
must have been lying asleep, probably in liquor. By the uncertain
light and in the rain, Ugo saw only the blurred vision of an
individual in a ragged and dripping overcoat, with an ugly, blotched
face and a ruined hat.
An instant later, and just as Ugo was challenging the man, two shots
were fired. The first smashed and extinguished the lantern in Pica's
hand without hurting him; the second took effect, and the Captain
staggered against the wall, but instead of falling, sat down suddenly
on the wet ground with his back against the masonry. The ruffian was
gone and Pica had dashed after him in a fruitless pursuit, for the
breaking of the lantern in his hand had checked the orderly as he was
about to spring at the miscreant, who thus gained a sufficient start
to ensure his escape.
In a few seconds the officer on duty and three or four of the men were
on the spot with lights.
'You will have to carry me,' said the Captain calmly enough. 'I am
shot in the foot and something is broken. Turn out the guard,
Lieutenant, as a matter of principle and have the neighbourhood
searched, though you will not find any one now. The fellow has got
clean away.'
The men lifted him and carried him towards his house. Before they
reached the door Pica met them, breathing hard and muttering Sicilian
imprecations on the man who had wounded his master and got away; but
while the Captain was being taken upstairs the orderly lit a candle
and went to the telephone in the hall. He glanced at the address-book
and then without hesitation he asked the central office to give him
Princess Chiaromonte's number. His reason for doing so was simple: she
was the only person in Rome who had ever appeared in the light of a
friend of the Captain's family; she would do the right thing at once,
Pica thought, and would send the best surgeon in Rome out to
Monteverde in a motor in the shortest possible time. She was at home
that evening, as it turned out, and at Pica's request she came to the
telephone herself and heard his story.
She answered that she would try and get Doctor Pieri to go at once in
her own motor, as he had the reputation of being the best surgeon in
the city, but that if he could not be found she would send another
doctor without delay. Pica went upstairs and found the Captain
stretched on his bed in his wet clothes, while the three soldiers who
had carried him up were trying to pull his boot off instead of cutting
it. One of the younger officers from the magazine was already scouring
the neighbourhood in obedience to Ugo's orders.
Pica sent the men away at once with the authority which a favourite
orderly instinctively exercises over his less fortunate comrades. He
was neither stupid nor quite unskilled, however, and in a few minutes
he had slit the Captain's boot down the seam at the back and removed
it almost without hurting him, as well as the merino sock. The small
round wound was not bleeding much, but it was clear that the bone of
the ankle was badly injured and the whole foot was already much
swollen. The revolver had evidently been of small calibre, but the
charge had been heavy and the damage was considerable. Pica had the
sense not to attempt to make any bandage beyond laying two soft folded
handkerchiefs one upon the other to the wound and loosely confining
them with a silk one. While he was busy with this, he explained what
he had done. The Captain, who knew that he was badly hurt and guessed
that he might be lamed for life by unskilful treatment, was glad to
hear that the famous Pieri had been called. He said that he felt no
pain worth speaking of, and he questioned his man as to the latter's
impression of what had happened. Pica did not believe in anarchists
and gave it as his opinion that the ruffian was an ordinary bad
character who was in daily expectation of being arrested for some
crime and who had fallen asleep in his cups, not knowing that he was
close to the magazine. Being awakened suddenly, he had probably
supposed himself overtaken by justice, had fired and run away. The
explanation was plausible, at all events. Neither Ugo nor his man
believed that any one would really try to blow up the place, for they
regarded that as quite impossible without the collusion of some one of
the soldiers, which was not to be thought of.
While they were talking, Pica managed to get off the Captain's outer
clothes; but as they were partly wet with rain, the bed was now damp.
He therefore went and got the new camp bedstead and set it up, spread
dry blankets and sheets over it, and lifted Ugo to it without letting
the injured foot hang down, for he was a fairly strong man and was far
from clumsy.
The change had just been successfully made when a motor was heard
coming up the short stretch from the high-road to the house, and Pica
hastened downstairs to open the door for the surgeon. To his surprise,
but much to his satisfaction, the Princess Chiaromonte was the first
to get out in the rain, bareheaded, but muffled in a waterproof. She
had no footman and no umbrella, and she made a quick dash for the
door, followed at once by Doctor Pieri. She recognised the handsome
orderly and smiled at him as she shook the rain-drops from her hair
and then gave him her cloak.
'Is he badly hurt?' she asked quickly; but she saw from Pica's face
that it was not a matter of life and death, and she did not wait for
his answer. 'We will go upstairs at once,' she added, leading the way
to the steps.
On learning that Ugo was already in bed, she said she would wait in
the large sitting-room while the doctor went in to see what could be
done. If the Captain would see her, she would speak to him when Pieri
had finished his work.
Nearly three-quarters of an hour passed before he joined her.
'It is a bad fracture,' he said, 'and it will require an operation if
he is not to be lamed for life. I should much prefer to perform it in
a proper place. There is none better than the private hospital of the
White Sisters and it is by far the nearest. Do you happen to know the
place?'
The Princess said that she did and that she was a patroness of the
Convent. The surgeon observed that it was now past eleven, and that
the patient could not be moved before morning. If she agreed with him
and would lend her motor for the purpose, he would communicate with
the hospital and take the Captain there himself between eight and nine
o'clock. For the present he needed no special nursing, and the orderly
seemed to be an unusually intelligent young fellow, who could be
trusted and was sincerely attached to his master. The Princess agreed
to everything, and asked whether the Captain wished to see her.
He did, and when she stood beside him he pressed her hand gratefully
and thanked her with real feeling for her great kindness. She
answered, before Pica, that she would always do anything in her power
for any one of his name, and she explained that she would be at the
hospital on the following morning to see that he had a good private
room and received special care. He thanked her again and bade her
good-night. Two or three minutes later he heard the motor puffing and
wheezing, and Pica came back after shutting the door. Ugo now sent him
over to the guard-room with a message to the lieutenant on duty,
requesting him to write a brief official account of the occurrence and
to send it by hand to headquarters the next morning. It was necessary
that another officer should take Ugo's place in command of the fort
while he was in hospital.
Pica came back again in a few moments. Then Ugo insisted on having
writing-materials, and sat up, propped with cushions, while he wrote a
short note to the Minister of War, explaining what had happened, and
that he would not leave his home on the morrow till his brother had
arrived, but that some further arrangement must be made if Giovanni
was to lodge in the house, which would probably be wanted for the
officer who was to take his own place. Pica was to be at the
Minister's own residence at seven o'clock with this note and was to
wait for an answer. The Minister was known to be a very early riser
and would have plenty of time to arrange matters as he thought best.
Ugo was now in a good deal of pain, and it seemed very long before the
panes of his window turned from black to grey as the dawn
fore-lightened. He made Pica get him coffee, and soon after sunrise the
orderly brought one of the men from the guard-house to remain within
call in case the Captain needed anything. Pica took his bicycle and went
off to the city with the note for the Minister.
As Ugo had anticipated, Giovanni arrived in a station cab while the
orderly was still absent, and was admitted by the soldier, on his
representing that he was a relation of the Captain's and had come a long
distance to see him. The man briefly explained that Ugo was in bed,
having been wounded in the foot during the night, but was in no danger.
A moment later the brothers were together.
Ugo saw a man standing beside his bed and holding out his hand whom he
would certainly not have recognised if he had met him in the street. His
skin was almost as dark as an Arab's, and he wore a brown beard which
had reddened in streaks under the African sun. He was as lean as a
half-starved greyhound, but did not look ill, and his eyes were fiery
and deeper set than formerly. His head had been shaved when he had worn
a turban, but the hair was now more than half an inch long, and was as
thick as a beaver's fur. He was dressed in a suit of thin grey clothes
which he had picked up in Massowah, and which did not fit him, and his
canvas shoes were in a bad way. When he spoke, it was with a slight
accent, unlike any that Ugo had heard, and he occasionally hesitated as
if trying to find a word.
After the first greetings, he sat down and told the main facts of his
story. When he paused the two looked at each other and after a while
they laughed.
'The disguise is complete,' Ugo said. 'But are you going to call on the
Minister in those clothes? If you are seen near the magazine in that
condition you will be warned off and I shall have to explain who you
are.'
'I suppose I could get into a uniform of yours, since I have grown
thin,' Giovanni answered. 'We are the same height, I remember, and as I
am in the artillery no one can find fault with me for wearing the
uniform of another regiment than my own, in an emergency. It will be
better than presenting myself before the Minister in these rags! I
suppose you have got your captaincy by this time?'
'Six months ago!'
They talked on, and Ugo explained that he was to be taken to the
hospital of the White Sisters soon after eight o'clock.
'I shall go with you,' Giovanni answered, 'and see you installed in your
room. The Minister does not want me till twelve o'clock.'
They agreed to tell Pica, when he returned, that Giovanni was an
artillery officer and a relative who had just arrived from a long
journey without any luggage. As the orderly had known that the Captain
expected a visitor before long, he would not be surprised, and the
relationship would account for Giovanni's name.
The latter selected an undress uniform from his brother's well-stocked
wardrobe and proceeded to scrub and dress in the adjoining
dressing-room, talking to Ugo through the open door and asking him
questions about old friends and comrades. Ugo told him of the Princess
Chiaromonte's visit and of her kindness in coming with Doctor Pieri on
the previous evening. Giovanni appeared at the door, half dressed.
'Did you tell her that I am alive?' he asked.
'No. The Ministry has made an official secret of it, so I have told no
one.'
'And you say that she will be at the hospital this morning! We shall
meet, then. I wonder whether she will know me.'
'It is impossible, I should say,' Ugo answered, looking at his brother's
lean face and heavy beard. 'I hardly recognise you even now!'
Giovanni finished dressing and came out at last, looking very smart in
Ugo's clothes. He had asked no questions about Angela, for he felt
tolerably sure that Ugo had never known her, and it was his intention to
go directly from the hospital to Madame Bernard's lodgings, where he
hoped to find them both as he had left them. He could not bring himself
to make vague and roundabout inquiries just then, and he was still less
inclined to confide his love story to this brother whom he hardly felt
that he knew. So he kept his own counsel and waited, as he had learned
to do in five years of slavery.
The Minister sent back a line by Pica to say that Giovanni was to come
to him at noon, and would then receive his instructions as to a change
of lodging, if any should seem advisable. There was a word of sympathy
also for Ugo.
In less than an hour more, Giovanni had helped Pica to carry Ugo down to
the Princess's motor, which had appeared punctually, bringing Doctor
Pieri, and the wounded man was comfortably placed in the limousine with
the surgeon beside him and Giovanni sitting opposite. Ugo introduced his
brother as a relation who had arrived very opportunely that morning.
The motor buzzed away from the door, and reached the Convent of Santa
Giovanna d'Aza in a few minutes. The sky had cleared after the rain and
the April sun was shining gloriously.