 | CHAPTER VII. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
“And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it
behoves men to be wary.”
Clo.—
“Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.”
Ant.—
“I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of
change.”
Winter's Tale.
Such was the state of things at Porto Ferrajo, at noon,
or about the hour when its inhabitants bethought them of
their mid-day meal. With most, the siesta followed, though
the sea air, with its invigorating coolness, rendered that
indulgence less necessary to these islanders, than to most
of their neighbours on the main. Then succeeded the reviving
animation of the afternoon, and the return of the
zephyr, or the western breeze. So regular, indeed, are
these changes in the currents of the air, during the summer
months, that the mariner can rely, with safety, on meeting
a light breeze from the southward, throughout the morning,
a calm at noon—the siesta of the Mediterranean — and
the delightfully cool wind from the west, after three or
four o'clock; this last is again succeeded, at night, by a
breeze directly from the land. Weeks at a time have we
known this order of things to be uninterrupted; and when
the changes did occasionally occur, it was only in the slight
episodes of showers and thunder-storms, of which, however,
Italy has far fewer than our own coast.
Such, then, was the state of Porto Ferrajo, towards the
evening that succeeded this day of bustle and excitement.
The zephyr again prevailed, the idle once more issued
forth for their sun-set walk, and the gossips were collecting
to renew their conjectures, and to start some new point in
their already exhausted discussions, when a rumour spread
through the place, like fire communicated to a train, that
“ze Ving-y-Ving” was once more coming down on the
weather side of the island, precisely as she had approached
on the previous evening; with the confidence of a friend
and the celerity of a bird. Years had passed since such a
and children, poured from the houses, and were seen climbing
the streets, all hastening to the promenade, as if to satisfy
themselves, with their own eyes, of the existence of some
miracle. In vain did the infirm and aged call on the vigorous
and more youthful, for the customary assistance; they
were avoided like the cases of plague, and were left to hobble
up the terraced street as best they might. Even mothers,
after dragging them at their own sides till fearful of being
too late, abandoned their young in the highway, certain of
finding them rolled to the foot of the declivity, should they
fail of scrambling to its summit. In short, it was a scene
of confusion in which there was much to laugh at, something
to awaken wonder, and not a little that was natural.
Ten minutes had not certainly elapsed, after the rumour
reached the lower part of the town, ere two thousand persons
were on the hill, including nearly all the principal personages
of the place, 'Maso Tonti, Ghita, and the different
characters known to the reader. So nearly did the scene
of this evening resemble that of the past, the numbers of the
throng on the hill and the greater interest excepted, that one
who had been present at the former, might readily have
fancied the latter merely its continuation. There, indeed,
was the lugger, under her foresail and mainsail, with the
jigger brailed, coming down wing-and-wing, and glancing
along the glittering sea like the duck sailing towards her
nest. This time, however, the English ensign was flying
at the end of the jigger-yard, as if in triumph, and the little
craft held her way nearer to the rocks, like one acquainted
with the coast, and fearing no danger. There was a manner
of established confidence in the way in which she trusted
herself under the muzzles of guns that might have destroyed
her in a very few minutes, and no one who saw her approach
could very well believe that she was anything but a known,
as well as a confirmed friend.
“Would any of the republican rascals, think you, Signor
Andrea,” asked Vito Viti, in triumph, “dare to come into
Porto Ferrajo, in this style; knowing, too, as does this `Sir
Smees,' the sort of people he will have to deal with! Remember,
Vice-governatore, that the man has actually been
into the lion's mouth.”
“Thou hast changed thine opinion greatly, neighbour
Vito,” answered the vice-governatore, somewhat drily, for
he was far from being satisfied on the subject of Sir Cicero,
and on those of certain other circumstances in English history
and politics; “it better becomes magistrates to be
cautious and wary.”
“Well, if there be a more cautious and circumspect man
in Elba than the poor podestâ of Porto Ferrajo, let him stand
forth, o' God's name, and prove his deeds! I do not esteem
myself, Signor Vice-governatore, as the idlest, or as the
most ignorant man in the Grand Duke's territories. There
may be wiser, among whom I place your eccellenza; but
there is not a more loyal subject, or a more zealous friend
of truth.”
“I believe it, good Vito,” returned Andrea, smiling kindly
on his old associate, “and have ever so considered thy advice
and services. Still, I wish I knew something of this
Sir Cicero; for, to be frank with thee, I have even foregone
my siesta, in searching the books in quest of such a man.”
“And do they not confirm every syllable the Signor
Smees has said?”
“So far from it, that I do not even find the name. It is
true, several distinguished orators of that nation are styled
English Ciceroes; but then all people do this, by way of
commendation.”
“I do not know that, Signore — I do not know that — it
may happen in our Italy; but would it come to pass, think
you, among remote and so lately barbarous nations as England,
Germany and France?”
“Thou forgettest, friend Viti,” returned the vice-governatore,
smiling now, in pity of his companion's ignorance and
prejudices, as just before he had smiled in kindness, “that
we Italians took the pains to civilize these people a thousand
years ago, and that they have not gone backward all
this time. But there can be no doubt that `ze Ving-y-Ving'
means to enter our bay again, and there stands the `Signor
Smees' examining us with a glass, as if he, too, contemplated
another interview.”
“It strikes me, Vice-governatore, that it would be a sin
put their trust in us. No republican would dare to anchor
in the bay of Porto Ferrajo a second time. Once, it might
possibly be done; but twice? — no, never, never.”
“I do not know but you are right, Vito, and I am sure I
hope so. Will you descend to the port, and see that the
forms are complied with? Then glean such useful circumstances
as you can.”
The crowd was now in motion towards the lower part of
the town, to meet the lugger; and at this suggestion the
podestâ hurried down, in the throng, to be in readiness to
receive the “Signor Smees,” as soon as he should land. It
was thought more dignified and proper for the vice-governatore
to remain, and await to hear the report of the supposed
English officer, where he was. Ghita was one of the few,
also, who remained on the heights, her heart now beating
with renewed apprehensions of the dangers that her lover
had again braved on her account, and now nearly overflowing
with tenderness, as she admitted the agreeable conviction,
that, had she not been in Porto Ferrajo, Raoul Yvard would
never have incurred such risks.
Ghita delle Torri, or Ghita of the Towers, as the girl was
ordinarily termed by those who knew her, from a circumstance
in her situation that will appear as we advance in the
tale, or Ghita Caraccioli, as was her real name, had been
an orphan from infancy. She had imbibed a strength of
character and a self-reliance, from her condition, that might
otherwise have been wanting, in one so young, and of a
native disposition so truly gentle. An aunt had impressed
on her mind the lessons of female decorum; and her uncle,
who had abandoned the world on account of a strong religious
sentiment, had aided in making her deeply devout, and
keenly conscientious. The truth of her character rendered
her indisposed to the deception which Raoul was practising,
while feminine weakness inclined her to forgive the offence,
in the motive. She had shuddered again and again, as she
remembered how deeply the young sailor was becoming
involved in frauds,—and frauds, too, that might so easily
terminate in violence and bloodshed; and then she had
trembled under the influence of a gentler emotion, as she
remembered that all these risks were run for her. Her
and Ghita Caraccioli ought to be strangers to each other;
but her heart told a different story. the present was an
occasion suited to keeping these conflicting feelings keenly
alive, and, as has been said, when most of the others
hastened down towards the port to be present when the
Wing-And-Wing came in, she remained on the hill, brooding
over her own thoughts, much of the time bathed in tears.
But Raoul had no intention of trusting his Jack-o'-Lantern
where it might so readily be extinguished by the hand of
man. Instead of taking shelter against any new roving
republican who might come along, behind the buildings of
the port, as had been expected, he shot past the end of the
quay, and anchored within a few fathoms of the very spot
he had quitted that morning, merely dropping his kedge
under foot, as before. Then he stepped confidently into his
boat, and pulled for the landing.
“Eh, Signor Capitano,” cried Vito Viti, as he met his
new protégé with an air of cordiality, as soon as the foot of
the latter touched the shore, “we looked for the pleasure
of receiving you into our bosom, as it were, here in the haven.
How ingeniously you led off that sans culotte, this morning!
Ah, the Inglese are the great nation of the ocean, Colombo
notwithstanding! The vice-governatore told me all about
your illustrious female admiral, Elisabetta, and the Spanish
armada; and there was Nelsoni; and now we have Smees!”
Raoul accepted these compliments, both national and personal,
in a very gracious manner, squeezing the hand of the
podestâ with suitable cordiality and condescension, acting
the great man as if accustomed to this sort of incense from
infancy. As became his public situation, as well as his
character, he proposed paying his duty immediately to the
superior authorities of the island.
“King George, my master,” continued Raoul, as he and
Vito Viti walked from the quay towards the residence of
Andrea Barrofaldi, “is particularly pointed on this subject,
with us all, in his personal orders. `Never enter a port of
one of my allies, Smeet,' he said, the very last time I took
leave of him, `without immediately hastening with your
duty to the commandant of the place. You never lose anything
polished a country to be outdone in these things, by even the
Italians, the parents of modern civilization.”'
“You are happy in having such a sovrano, and still more
so in being allowed to approach his sacred person.”
“Oh! as to the last, the navy is his pet; he considers us
captains, in particular, as his children. `Never enter London,
my dear Smeet,' he said to me, `without coming to the
palace, where you will always find a father'—you know he
has one son among us who was lately a captain, as well as
myself.”
“San Stefano! and he the child of a great king! I did
not know that, I confess, Signore.”
“Why, it is a law, in England, that the king shall give
at least one son to the marine. `Yes,' said his Majesty,
`always be prompt in calling on the superior authorities,
and remember me benevolently and affectionately to them,
one and all, even down to the subordinate magistrates, who
live in their intimacy.”
Raoul delighted in playing the part he was now performing,
but he was a little addicted to over-acting it. Like all
exceedingly bold and decided geniuses, he was constantly
striding across that step which separates the sublime from
the ridiculous, and consequently ran no small hazard in the
way of discovery. But with Vito Viti he incurred little
risk on this score, provincial credulity and a love of the
marvellous coming in aid of his general ignorance, to render
him a safe depository of anything of this sort that the other
might choose to advance. Vito Viti felt it to be an honour to
converse with a man who, in his turn, had conversed with a
king; and as he puffed his way up the steep ascent again,
he did not fail to express some of the feelings which were
glowing in his breast.
“Is it not a happiness to serve such a prince?” he exclaimed—“nay,
to die for him!”
“The latter is a service I have not yet performed,” answered
Raoul, innocently, “but which may one day well
happen. Do you not think, podestâ, that he who lays down
his life for his prince merits canonization?”
“That would fill the calendar too soon, in these wars,
Signor Smees; but I will concede you the generals and admirals,
admiral who dies for his sovereign, does deserve to be made
a saint — this would leave these miserable French republicans,
Signore, without hope or honour!”
“They are canaille, from the highest to the lowest, and
can reasonably expect nothing better. If they wish to be
canonized, let them restore the Bourbons, and put themselves
lawfully in the way of such a blessing. The chase of this
morning, Signor Vito Viti, must, at least, have amused the
town?”
The podestâ wanted but this opening to pour out a history
of his own emotions, sensations and raptures. He expatiated
in glowing terms on the service the lugger had rendered the
place by leading off the rascally republicans, showing that he
considered the manœuvre of passing the port, instead of
entering it, as one of the most remarkable of which he had
ever heard, or even read.
“I defied the vice-governatore to produce an example of
a finer professional inspiration in the whole range of history,
beginning with his Tacitus, and ending with your new English
work on Roma. I doubt if the Elder Pliny, or Mark
Antony, or even Cæsar, ever did a finer thing, Signore; and
I am not a man addicted to extravagance, in compliments.
Had it been a fleet of vessels of three decks, instead of a
little lugger, Christendom would have rung with the glory
of the achievement!”
“Had it been but a frigate, my excellent friend, the manœuvre
would have been unnecessary. Peste! it is not a
single republican ship that can make a stout English frigate
skulk along the rocks, and fly like a thief at night.”
“Ah, there is the vice-governatore walking on his terrace,
Sir Smees, and dying with impatience to greet you. We
will drop the subject, for another occasion, and a bottle of
good Florence liquor.”
The reception which Andrea Barrofaldi gave Raoul, was
far less warm than that he received from the podestâ, though
it was polite, and without any visible signs of distrust.
“I have come, Signor Vice-governatore,” said the privateersman,
“in compliance with positive orders from my
master, to pay my respects to you again, and to report my
arrival once more, in your bay, though the cruise made
India voyage.”
“Short as it has been, we should have reason to regret
your absence, Signore, were it not for the admirable proofs
it has afforded us of your resources and seamanship,” returned
Andrea with due complaisance. “To own the truth,
when I saw you depart, it was with the apprehension that we
should never enjoy this satisfaction again. But, like your
English Sir Cicero, the second coming may prove even more
agreeable than the first.”
Raoul laughed, and he even had the grace to blush a
little; after which he appeared to reflect intensely on some
matter of moment. Smiles struggled round his handsome
mouth, and then he suddenly assumed an air of sailor-like
frankness, and disclosed his passing sensations in words.
“Signor Vice-governatore, I ask the favour of one moment's
private conference; Signor Vito Viti, give us leave
a single moment, if you please. I perceive, Signore,” continued
Raoul, as he and Andrea walked a little aside, “that
you have not easily forgotten my little fanfaronade about
our English Cicero. But what will you have?—we sailors
are sent to sea children, and we know little of books. My
excellent father, Milord Smeet, had me put in a frigate when
I was only twelve, an age at which one knows very little
of Ciceros, or Dantes, or Corneilles, even, as you will
confess. Thus, when I found myself in the presence of a
gentleman whose reputation for learning has reached far
beyond the island he so admirably governs, a silly ambition
has led me into a folly that he finds it hard to forgive. If I
have talked of names of which I know nothing, it may be a
weakness, such as young men will fall into; but surely it is
no heinous crime.”
“You allow, Signore, that there has been no English Sir
Cicero?”
“The truth compels me to say, I know nothing about it.
But it is hard for a very young man, and one, too, that feels
his deficiencies of education, to admit all this to a philosopher,
on a first acquaintance. It becomes a different thing,
when natural modesty is encouraged by a familiar goodness
of heart; and a day's acquaintance with the Signor Barrofaldi,
is as much as a year with an ordinary man.”
“If this be the case, Sir Smees, I can readily understand,
and as willingly overlook what has passed,” returned the
vice-governatore, with a self-complacency that in nothing
fell short of that which Vito Viti had so recently exhibited.
“It must be painful, to a sensitive mind, to feel the deficiencies
which unavoidably accompany the want of opportunities
for study; and I, at least, can now say how delightful
it is to witness the ingenuousness which admits it. Then,
if England has never possessed a Cicero, in name, doubtless
she has had many in qualifications, after allowing for the
halo which time ever throws around a reputation. Should
your duty often call you this way, Signore, during this
summer, it will add to the pleasure I experience in enjoying
the advantage of your acquaintance, to be permitted, in some
slight degree, to direct your reading to such works, as, with
a mind like yours, will be certain to lead to profit and pleasure.”
Raoul made a suitable acknowledgment for this offer, and
from that moment the best understanding existed between
the parties. The privateersman, who had received a much
better education than he pretended to, and who was a consummate
actor, as well as, on certain occasions, a practised
flatterer, determined to be more cautious in future, sparing
his literary conjectures, whatever liberties he might take
with other subjects. And yet this reckless and daring mariner
never flattered nor deceived Ghita in anything! With
her he had been all sincerity, the influence he had obtained
over the feelings of that pure-minded girl, being as much the
result of the nature and real feeling he had manifested, as of
his manly appearance and general powers of pleasing. It
would have been, indeed, matter of interesting observation,
for one curious in the study of human nature, to note how
completely the girl's innocence and simplicity of character
had extended itself over every act of the young man, that
was any way connected with her, preventing his even feigning
that religion which he certainly did not feel, and the
want of which was the sole obstacle to the union he had
now solicited for near a twelvemonth, and which, of all others,
was the object by far the closest to his heart. With Andrea
Barrofaldi, and Vito Viti, and most especially with the hated
English, it was a very different thing, however; and seldom
such a scene of mystification as that in which he was at
that moment engaged.
The vice-governatore having established relations so completely
amicable with the `Signor Smees,' could do no less
than invite his guest to enter the palazzo, along with himself
and the podestâ. As it was yet too light for the sailor
to seek an interview with Ghita, he cheerfully accepted the
offer; making a careful examination of the whole of the
northern margin of the sea, from his elevated position, however,
before he crossed the threshold. This little delay, on
Raoul's part, enabled the podestâ to have a passing word
with his friend unobserved.
“You have found `Sir Smees,”' said Vito Viti, with
earnestness, “all that your wisdom and prudence could
desire, I trust? For my part, I consider him a most interesting
youth; one destined, at some future time, to lead fleets,
and dispose of the fortunes of nations.”
“He is more amiable, and even better informed, than I
had thought, neighbour Vito Viti. He gives up his Sir
Cicero with a grace that causes one regret it was necessary;
and, like yourself, I make no doubt of his becoming an illustrious
admiral, in time. It is true, his father, `Milordo
Smees,' has not done justice to his education; but it is not
too late, yet, to repair that evil. Go, desire him to enter;
for I am impatient to draw his attention to certain works
that may be useful to one in his line of life.”
At this suggestion the podestâ returned to the door, in
order to usher the imaginary Guernsey-man into the residence.
He found Raoul still standing on the entrance,
examining the sea. There were two or three coasters,
feluccas, as usual, stealing along the coast, in the Italian
fashion, equally afraid of the barbarians of the south shore,
and of the French of the north. All these would have been
good prizes; but, to do the privateersman justice, he was
little in the habit of molesting mariners of so low a class.
There was one felucca, however, that was just rounding the
promontory, coming in from the north; and with the people
of this craft he determined to have some communication as
soon as he returned to the port, with a view to ascertain if
she had fallen in with the frigate. Just as he had come to
into the house.
It is unnecessary to give the discourse which succeeded.
It related more to literature and matters in general, than to
anything connected with our tale, the worthy vice-governatore
being disposed to reward the ingenuousness of the young
sailor, by furnishing him as much instruction as the time
and circumstances would allow. Raoul bore this very well,
waiting patiently for the light to disappear, when he felt a
perfect confidence of again meeting Ghita on the promenade.
As he had discovered how much more safety there was in
diffidence than in pretension, he found his task of deception
comparatively easy; and by letting the vice-governatore
have his own way, he not only succeeded in gaining that
functionary over to a full belief in his assumed nationality,
but in persuading him to believe the `Signor Smees' a young
man of even more erudition than he had at first supposed.
By means as simple and natural as these, Raoul made more
progress in the good graces of Andrea Barrofaldi, in the
next two hours, than he could have done in a year, by
setting up his own knowledge and reading as authority.
There is little doubt that the vice-governatore found this
interview agreeable, from the time he was disposed to waste
on it; and, it is certain, Raoul thought it some of the hardest
duty in which he had ever been engaged. As for Vito Viti,
he was edified, and he did not care to conceal it, giving frequent
manifestations of his satisfaction, by expressions of
delight; occasionally venturing a remark, as if expressly to
betray his own ignorance.
“I have often known you great, vice-governatore,” he
cried, when Andrea had closed a dissertation on the earlier
history of all the northern nations, which lasted fully half-an-hour,
“but never so great as you are to-night! Signore,
you have been most illustrious, this evening! Is it not so,
Signor Smees? Could any professor of Pisa, or even of
Padua, do more justice to a subject, than we have seen done
to this to which we have been listening?”
“Signor Podestâ,” added Raoul, “but one feeling has
prevailed, in my mind, while attending to what has been
said; and that has been deep regret that my profession has
cut me off from all these rich stores of profound thought.
imitate.”
“Quite true, Signori,” answered Andrea, with gentle
benevolence, “but with dispositions like yours, Sir Smees,
it is not so very difficult to imitate what we admire. I will
write out a list of works, which I would recommend to your
perusal; and, by touching at Livorno, or Napoli, you will
obtain all the books at reasonable prices. You may expect
to see the list on your breakfast-table to-morrow morning,
as I shall not sleep until it is completed.”
Raoul gladly seized upon this promise as a hint to depart,
and he took his leave with suitable acknowledgments of
gratitude and delight. When he got out of the palazzo,
however, he gave a long, low whistle, like a man who felt
he had escaped from a scene in which persecution had been
a little lightened by the ridiculous, and uttered a few curses
on the nations of the north, for being so inconsiderate as to
have histories so much longer and more elaborate than he
conceived to be at all necessary. All this passed as he
hastened along the promenade, which he found deserted,
every human being having apparently left it. At length he
thought he perceived a female form some distance ahead of
him, and in a part of the walk that was never much frequented.
Hastening towards it, his quick eye discerned the
person of her he sought, evidently waiting for his approach.
“Raoul,” exclaimed Ghita, reproachfully, “in what will
these often-repeated risks finally end? When so fairly and
cleverly out of the harbour of Porto Ferrajo, why did you
not possess the prudence to remain there?”
“Thou know'st the reason, Ghita, and why ask this
question? San Nettuno! was it not handsomely done; and
is not this brave vice-governatore rarely mystified!—I sometimes
think, Ghita, I have mistaken my vocation, which
should have been that of a diplomate.”
“And why a diplomate, in particular, Raoul — thou art
too honest to deceive long, whatever thou may'st do on an
occasion like this, and in a pressing emergency.”
“Why? — but, no matter. This Andrea Barrofaldi, and
this Vito Viti, will one day know why. And now to our
business, Ghita, since le Feu-Follet cannot always decorate
the bay of Porto Ferrajo.”
“True,” interrupted the girl, “and I have come for no
other purpose than to say as much myself. My dear uncle
has arrived, and he intends to sail for the Torri with the first
felucca.”
“There! — this has done more to make me believe in a
Providence, than all the preaching of all the padri of Italy!
Here is the lugger to take the place of the felucca, and we
can sail this very night. My cabin shall be yours entirely;
and with your uncle for a protector, no one can raise an
evil tongue against the step.”
Ghita, to own the truth, expected this very offer, which,
agreeable as it was, her sense of propriety would certainly
have prevented her from accepting, but for one consideration:
it might be made the means of getting Raoul out of
an enemy's port; and, in so much, out of harm's way. This,
with one of her affectionate heart, was an object to which
she would have sacrificed appearances of even a graver
character. We do not wish the reader, however, to get a
false impression of this girl's habits and education. Although
the latter, in many particulars, was superior to that received
by most young women of her class in life, the former were
simple, and suited to her station, as well as to the usages of
her country. She had not been brought up with that severe
restraint which regulates the deportment of the young Italian
females of condition, perhaps, in a degree just as much too
severely, as it leaves the young American too little restrained;
but she had been taught all that decorum and
delicacy required, either for the beautiful or the safe; and
her notions inculcated the inexpediency, if not the impropriety,
of one in her situation taking a passage in a privateer
at all, and particularly so in one commanded by an avowed
lover. But, on the other hand, the distance between Porto
Ferrajo and the Towers, was only about fifty miles, and a
few hours would suffice to place her in safety beneath her
own roof; and, what was of more importance, in her view,
just then, Raoul in safety along with her. On all this had
she pondered, and she was consequently prepared with an
answer to the proposal that had just been made.
“If my uncle and myself could accept this generous offer,
when would it be convenient for you to sail, Raoul?” the
intended, and longer than we ought.”
“Within an hour, if there were any wind. But you see
how it is, Ghita—the zephyr has done blowing, and it now
seems as if every fan of Italy had gone to sleep. You can
depend on our sailing the instant it shall be in our power.
At need, we will use the sweeps.”
“I will, then, see my uncle, and mention to him that there
is a vessel about to sail, in which we had better embark.
Is it not odd, Raoul, that he is profoundly ignorant of your
being in the bay? He gets more and more lost to things
around him every day, and I do believe he does not recollect
that you command an enemy's vessel half the time.”
“Let him trust to me; he shall never have occasion to
know it, Ghita.”
“We are assured of that, Raoul. The generous manner
in which you interposed to save us from the corsair of the
Algerines, which began our acquaintance, and for which we
shall always have occasion to bless you, has made peace
between you and us, for ever. But for your timely succour,
last summer, my uncle and myself would now have been
slaves with barbarians!”
“That is another thing that inclines me to believe in a
Providence, Ghita! Little did I know, when rescuing you
and your good kinsman from the boat of the Algerine, who I
was saving. And yet, you see how all has come to pass, and
that in serving you I have merely been serving myself.”
“Would that thou could'st learn to serve that God, who
disposes of us all at his holy pleasure!” murmured Ghita,
tears forcing themselves to her eyes, and a convulsive effort
alone suppressing the deep emotion with which she uttered
the words; “but we thank thee again and again, Raoul, as
the instrument of his mercy, in the affair of the Algerine,
and are willing to trust to thee now, and always. It will be
easy to induce my uncle to embark; but, as he knows thy
real character, when he chooses to recollect it, I hardly
think it will do to say with whom. We must arrange an
hour, and a place to meet, when I will see to his being there,
and in readiness.”
Raoul and Ghita next discussed the little details; a place
of rendezvous without the town, a short distance below the
choosing one that would necessarily subject them to observation.
This portion of the arrangements was soon settled,
and then Ghita thought it prudent to separate. In this proposal
her companion acquiesced with a better grace than he
might have done, had he not the girl's assurance of meeting
him within an hour, in order that everything might be ready
for a start, with the first appearance of wind.
When left alone, Raoul bethought him that Ithuel and
Filippo were on shore, as usual; the New-Hampshire man
consenting to serve only on condition of being allowed to
land; a privilege he always abused by driving a contraband
trade, on occasions like the present. So great was the fellow's
dexterity in such matters, that Raoul, who disdained
smuggling, while he thought himself compelled to wink at it
in others, had less apprehensions of his committing the lugger,
than he might have felt in the case of one less cunning.
But it was now necessary to get these two men off, or abandon
them; and fortunately remembering the name of the
wine-house where they had taken their potations the previous
night, he repaired to it without delay, luckily finding Ithuel
and his interpreter deep in the discussion of another flask of
the favourite Tuscan beverage. 'Maso and his usual companions
were present also, and there being nothing unusual
in the commander of an English ship of war's liking good
liquor, Raoul, to prevent suspicion, drew a chair, and asked
for his glass. By the conversation that followed, the young
privateersman felt satisfied that, though he might have succeeded
in throwing dust into the eyes of the vice-governatore
and the podestâ, these experienced old seamen still
distrusted his character. It was so unusual a thing for a
French frigate, while it was so usual for an English frigate,
to be standing along the coast, near in, that these mariners,
who were familiar with all such matters, had joined this
circumstance to the suspicious signs about the lugger, and
were strongly disposed to believe the truth concerning both
vessels. To all this, however, Raoul was more indifferent
than he might have been, but for the arrangement to sail so
soon. He took his wine, therefore, with apparent indifference,
and, in proper season, withdrew, carrying with him
Ithuel and the Genoese.
| CHAPTER VII. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | |