 | THE QUARANTINE. Isabel, or, Sicily |  |
THE QUARANTINE.
Cannot be good.”
Wallenstein.
On a lovely afternoon they approached the harbor
of Messina. The scene was surpassingly beautiful
as the sun descended. On the one side rose the high
hills of Calabria, and on the other the noble range of
the Sicilian mountains. The broadly undulating
shapes of the latter were clothed with the vivid
verdure of the lemon and orange trees, and the darker
evergreen of the olive. On their tops, at intervals,
volumes of pearly mist reposed, and elsewhere the
edge of their summits was marked with the distincness
of a chiselled line upon the clear back-ground
of the horizon. The blue smoke of the coal pits
above, wreathed itself peacefully along the green slopes,
and up into the bright sky. Clusters of white habitations
were planted here and there in the midst of
the verdant shrubbery, some of them seeming to hang
these groups of habitations, rose the square, white
towers of the churches pointing from the greensward
to the serene heaven above, their ancient hue contrasting
finely with the freshness of the beautiful
temple of nature amid which they were reared.
Nearer the shore, broad lines of sandy earth indicated
the track of some mountain torrent, and the many
and rich tints of the withered vineyards reflected,
in brilliant masses, the lateral rays of the setting
sun. To give life to the view, the figure of a passing
pedestrian occasionally flitted across the beach, and
a knot of fishermen appeared near the line of blue
water, watching the progress of the vessel. The
clear chime of the Avé Maria stole softly from the
valleys. All was peacful, rich, and lovely as the land
of promise; and when the sound of the vesper bell
thus floated over the sea, it seemed to Isabel as if
Nature was whispering a call to her children from
one of the fairest of her sanctuaries, to lure them to
join in her evening prayer.
Before midnight the ship was safely moored on
that side of the port of Messina appropriated to vessels
in quarantine, and the morning light revealed
yet another prospect of singular beauty. At the
foot of the picturesque range of mountains, a part of
which they had so attentively viewed the previous
evening, appeared the city, the lofty dome of its
cathedral, and the finely-wrought towers of the church
of St. Gregorio rising conspicuously among the dwellings.
Half way up the hills behind the town, stand
in admirable keeping with its massive grey
walls, and between these fortifications is reared the
venerable monastery, with its dark rugged tower, in
which Richard Cœur de Lion took refuge on his way
to the Holy Land. At the water's edge appears
the Marina, lined with spacious buildings; and, here
and there, half-hidden by the shipping at the quay,
groups might be seen scattered along this wide promenade,
and vehicles moving to and fro in rapid
succession. Yet delightful as was the landscape,
Isabel and her uncle would gladly have abandoned
their favourable position, and joined those who constituted
the moving figures of the panorama, for
before their mental vision was the less cheering
prospect of a Sicilian quarantine. Not without
grateful emotions, however, did Isabel turn to the
lovely picture which, during many days of anxiety
and weariness, was thus spread out before them. O
Nature! how like a kind mother thou art! when
thy wayward children are so ingenious in devising
methods of mutual torment, with what a quiet and
constant tenderness dost thou minister to their pleasure!
How often did Isabel forget the ennui of confinement,
and lose, in bright imaginings, all sense of
her restricted condition, in perusing the landscape
before her. She beheld it in every variety of aspect;
at sunrise, and in the mellow light of evening, when
clouds rested over it as a canopy, and when lit up
into cheerfulness by the noonday glare. She saw it
when rendered still more enchanting by the moonbeams;
stole over it, till nought but the dark forms of the
mountains, and the flickering lamps of the town were
visible. She beheld it shrouded in the gloom of the
storm, and spanned by the glowing rainbow.
“Of life's annoyances,” said Frazier, “few are
more severe than a Sicilian quarantine. A man of
sense can always derive consolation when suffering
from the regulations of government, if he is able to
perceive the utility of their enforcement. It is gratifying
when our convenience is invaded by the
operation of law, to feel there is reason for our discomfort,
that we are making an appropriate sacrifice
to the general good. Such a consideration is
sufficient to still the voice of complaint in every reflecting
bosom. It is the irrational and indiscriminate
course pursued here which renders the quarantine so
vexatious. The slightest rumour, the most unauthenticated
report, or the veriest whim is deemed sufficient
ground for sending away ships of every nation, or
consigning them to an indefinite suspension of intercourse.
It is now doubtful whether the time assigned
will behold us at liberty; and the healthiness of the
place of our embarkation, the unquestionable validity
of our bill of health, and the excellent condition of
of all on board will not weigh a feather in the scale.
The low damp chambers of the lazzaretto are quite
calculated to induce sickness, while the fastidious are
in no degree likely to be cheered by the prospect of
being buried `unknelled and uncoffined,' in a hastily-dug
pit and covered with quick-lime.”
Surrounded by vessels of every name and nation,
they eagerly looked for the arrival of Christmas, the
period designated for their landing. Sometimes,
attended by a guard, they perambulated the yard
of the lazzaretto, or conversed with acquaintances
through a high railing. On these occasions it was
sometimes their fortune to behold the letters they had
carefully prepared for distant friends, cut unceremoniously,
bathed in vinegar, and smoked in sulphur,
till all their decent aspect was destroyed, and half
their contents obliterated. Another time, they heard
vague reports that their durance would be prolonged;
and returned to the narrow precincts of the vessel
in a state of the most unenviable suspense. Sometimes
they amused themselves in watching the fish
and sea-nettles in the clear tide around; and at others,
in tracing with a spy-glass some distant line of the
prospect, or endeavouring to discern the signal of an
approaching ship. At night, the monotonous cheering
of the guards, as they vociferously passed the
watch-word from vessel to vessel, or the twang of
an antiquated violin with which some neighbor beguiled
the hours, disturbed their slumbers.
The festive day drew nigh, on the eve of which
the Italians feast upon eels, and the morning of which
the strangers fondly hoped would shine upon their
landing. Ere then they received notice that, until
further orders, they could not be admitted to pratique.
Such is a quarantine in Sicily. Bribing will
evade almost any of the legal penalties of the country,
but the sanitary laws are enforced with a rigidness
with the general welfare. The joyous anniversary
arrived. Isabel pictured its celebration across the
wide waters in the circle of her friends. She saw,
in fancy, the glad meeting about the fire-side; she
heard well known voices interchange the gratulations
of the season; she beheld dear forms moving
up the aisle her infant feet had trod; she felt the glow
of devotion stirred by the preacher's earnest description
of His meekness and self-sacrifice who, centuries
past, was born in Bethlehem. She saw her kindred
gather around the festive board, and caught the tone
of loved voices breathing fond hopes for her welfare.
She cared not to trace the picture farther, for she
had taken the blessed thought to her heart—that she
was remembered.
For two days the wind had been free and strong,
and on this night it increased to a gale. The moon
alternately shone clearly forth, and illuminated the
edges of an intervening cloud, sending down a pale
and melancholy light. In an hour it blew a hurricane;
one of those sudden storms, peculiar to the
Mediterranean, whose desolate howlings and sudden
gusts drowned all other sounds. Suddenly, as they
stood upon the quarter deck, a noise like the snapping
of metal-bars was audible, and one of the many
craft around shot from among the vessels, and
dashed forth steadily and with a startling rapidity,
as if under a press of canvas. Her masts and dark
tracery were relieved against the half-clear, half-sullen
atmosphere. All was hushed, save the deep
subject to human government, and as she silently
passed onward, and was lost to sight in the gloom,
the legends she had read of spectre ships came forcibly
to the mind of Isabel. A few moments passed,
and the whole fleet beside them broke their moorings.
Then as the vessels were thrown together,
and spars and cordage intermingled, the crash of
yards, the bursting of ropes, the grating of chains,
the voices of command, and the exclamations of fear,
uttered in Italian, German, and English, mingled with
the unceasing roar of the tempest. Now and then
it lulled, only to be renewed with greater violence.
The iron rings imbedded in the old wall of the lazzaretto,
which held the flotilla, had burst asunder, and
thus caused the accident. It was startling to see the
fleet which had surrounded them with a forest of
masts, as it were by magic, in the space of a few
moments all at once depart. It was thrilling to look
over the bulwarks, and behold the broad bay covered
with foam, and perfectly solitary! Most of the vessels
were thrown on a strip of land not far distant, and all
of them, in some degree, damaged. Those which had
nearly performed the required quarantine, being
brought in contact with the non-admitted vessels, were
declared sfratto (expelled). There was enough of destruction
around, to enable Isabel to realize the sufferings
of those exposed to the unmitigated fury of the storm.
At every new onset of the invisible, but resistless
power, she seemed to see the surges whelming some
hapless bark, and feel the shudder which follows the
pauses of the storm, she thought her ear caught the
quickly whispered prayer, and, on its rising whirl,
the last agonizing cry seemed to come. The next
day brought them accounts of the disasters of the
night. “If all this damage,” observed Frazier,
“had been incurred in an Atlantic port, it would be
instantly repaired by government or individuals. All
the losses are attributable to the insecurity of the
fastenings. A Sicilian quarantine exposes a man to
the combined evils of an abridgment of liberty, discomfort,
suspense, and loss.” During this, and many
other of her uncle's complaining moments, Isabel was
quietly regarding the scene around her, now clothed
with renewed beauty, and meditating upon the prospect
of that re-union, the hope of which had brought her
thither. When an important object is ever present
to the mind, lesser evils vanish; and so much of
uncertainty hung over the enterprise of the fair
pilgrim, that she scarcely knew what circumstances
were best adapted to promote it, and therefore was
more resigned to the course of events. Her uncle
buoyed by no such faith, or expectancy, felt more
keenly the inconveniences of the pilgrimage.
There are few situations, however, of unalleviated
discomfort, and accordingly it was not long before
an agreeable circumstance enlivened the monotony
of their durance. On board the adjoining vessel,
they had frequently observed a young man of graceful
mien, and handsome, intelligent features, apparently
the only passenger; and, on one occasion,
he was introduced to their acquaintance. Thenceforth
their intercourse was constant and interesting.
Count Vittorio was a native of Sicily, and had just
returned from a visit to one of the Italian cities. To
the engaging manners and enthusiasm of the South,
he united talents of rare native power, greatly improved
by study and travel. His society proved
invaluable to the strangers, and he was no less
delighted to hold communion with two such pleasing
representatives of a country in whose institutions he
felt deeply interested. Frazier was happy to find so
attentive an auditor, and never became weary of
expatiating on the political advantages, and moral
pre-eminence of his native land; while Isabel found
still greater pleasure in the vivid descriptions the
Count eloquently furnished of the arts, literature, and
antiquities of the classic region with which he was
so familiar. In such conversations, many hours of
the tedious day were beguiled of their weariness.
The acquaintance thus formed, soon ripened into
mutual confidence; and it was arranged that they
should proceed in company through the island.
Their hopes were soon unexpectedly gratified, by
receiving on a delightful evening permission to land.
How eagerly did they spring from the boat's prow
upon the beach, and hasten to the yard of the
Health-office! a few moments of ceremony sufficed;
the little iron gate was thrown open, and they gladly
hurried through, like emancipated prisoners.
| THE QUARANTINE. Isabel, or, Sicily | |