Rule of the Monk Part 8

CHAPTER XXIV. THE YACHT

The English girl broke out into pretty speeches of gladness when she caught sight of her little s.h.i.+p. "Dance, graceful naiad," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Julia, when she beheld it upon the blue waters of the Mediterranean, "and spread your wings to bear away my friends to a place of safety.

Who says I may not love thee as a friend, when I owe to thee so many glorious and free days? I love thee when the waters are like a mirror and reflect thy beauty upon their gla.s.sy bosom, and thou rockest lazily to the sigh of the gentle evening breeze which scarcely swells thy sails. I love thee still more when thou plungest, like a steed of Neptune, through the billows' snorting foam, driven by the storm, making thy way through the waves, and fearing no terror of the tempest. Now stretch thy wings for thy mistress, and bear her friends safe from this wicked sh.o.r.e!"

Julia's companions were in the mood to echo this spirit of joy and exultation, and eagerly gazed at the little vessel.

Not daring, however, to excite suspicion by conducting the whole of her party at once into Porto d'Anzo, Julia decided upon leaving Silvia and her daughter under the protection of Orazio, who would have been cut in pieces before he would have allowed them to be injured or insulted.

They were to wait in a wood a short distance from the port, while Julia, taking with her Manlio, who acted the part of coachman, and Aurelia, as her lady's maid, pa.s.sed to the s.h.i.+p to make preparations to fetch the others. Capo d'Anzo forms the southern, and Civita Vecchia the northern limits of the dangerous and inhospitable Roman sh.o.r.e. The navigator steers his vessel warily when he puts out to sea in winter on this stormy coast, especially in a south-west wind, which has wrecked many a gallant s.h.i.+p there. The mouth of the Tiber, is only navigable by vessels that do not draw more than four or five feet of water, and this only during spring. On the left bank of the Tiber near Mount Circeli, dwelt of old the war-like Volsci, who gave the Romans no little trouble before those universal conquerors succeeded in subjugating them. The ruins of their ancient capital, Ardea, bear witness to its ancient prosperity.

The promontory, Capo d'Anzo, both forms and gives its name to the port in which was stationed our heroine's yacht, awaiting her orders. The arrival of Julia, if not a delight and fete day for the priests, who hate the English, because they are both "heretics" and "liberals," was certainly one for the crew of the _Seagull_, to whom she was always affable and kind. The sailor, exposed to n.o.ble risks nearly all his life, is well worthy of woman's esteem, and nowhere will she find a truer devotion to her s.e.x than among the rough but loyal and generous tars.

Going on board, the pretty English lady, after returning the affectionate and respectful greeting of her countrymen and servants, descended to the cabin and consulted with her captain, an old sea-dog (Thompson by name), as to the best means of embarking the fugitives.

"Aye, aye, Miss," said he, glad to escape his enforced idleness, as soon as he saw how the land lay; "leave the poor creatures to me; I'll find a way of s.h.i.+pping them safe out of this hole!"

And in less than an hour the captain, true to his word, weighed anchor, and sailed triumphantly out to sea with our exiles on board, who, though shedding a few natural tears as the coast faded rapidly from their view, were inexpressibly thankful to feel that they were at last out of the clutches of their revengeful persecutors.

CHAPTER XXV. THE TEMPEST

But our readers will remember that it was now the third week in February--the worst month at sea, at least in the Mediterranean. The Italian sailors have a proverb, that "a short February is worse than a long December." Captain Thompson, in his anxiety to fulfill his young mistress's wishes, had not failed to heed the weather-gla.s.s, and he had felt anxious at the way in which the mercury was falling--a sure sign that a strong south-west wind was brewing nigh at hand, the most unfavorable for the safety of our pa.s.sengers on this rocky coast. The _Seagull_, however, sailed gracefully out of port with all sails set, and impelled by a gentle breeze--gracefully, we say, that is, in the eyes of Captain Thompson and her owner; but not so gracefully in the eyes of Aurelia and Manlio, who, never having intrusted themselves to the deep before, were considerably inconvenienced by the undulating motion.

Julia had arranged to cruise down the coast for Silvia and Clelia, under Orazio's protection, bringing to off a small fis.h.i.+ng-place a few miles from Porto d'Anzo, where the yacht was to put in and embark them; but, though the captain would have gone through fire and water to obey his mistress's commands, the wind and waves were his superiors. The gentle breeze had given place to strong gusts, and black clouds were rapidly chasing one another athwart the sky. A storm was evidently rising, and every moment the danger of being driven ash.o.r.e was becoming more and more possible. Night was closing in, and breakers were in sight. The only chance of escape was to cast anchor. Thompson accordingly made Julia, who, wrapped in a shawl, was lying on deck watching every movement, acquainted with his resolution, in which she acquiesced. The sailors were about to obey their captain's orders, when Julia cried out "Hold!" for she had already felt the wind upon her cheek suddenly s.h.i.+ft, and felt that to anchor was no longer wise. Now they must stand out to sea, and face the s.h.i.+fts of the tempest. The sails began to fill, and in a short time the _Seagull_ paid off, and began to leave the surf behind her, obedient to the helm. The wind was fitful, and now and again terribly fierce; the sails, cordage, and masts creaked, and swayed to and fro. Captain Thompson ordered his crew, in the energetic, yet self-possessed tone so characteristic of the British seaman, to "stand by" the halliards (ropes to hoist or lower sails), but to take in nothing. Luffing a little more, they were soon free of the immediate peril; but, the wind increasing, they dared not carry so much sail, and three reefs were taken in upon the mainsail, the foresail and jib were s.h.i.+fted, and every thing was made tight and snug against the fierce blasts which dashed the billows over her sides, and occasionally nearly submerged the tiny bark.

The Seagull presently put about on the port tack, always beating out from the land, and battled bravely with the storm, which waxed momentarily louder and stronger. One tremendous wave dashed over her, and then the captain, addressing Julia, who had remained on deck, besought her to go below, or he feared she might share the fate of one of the crew who had been washed overboard by it. Poor fellow, no help could save him! Julia saw the sailor go over the side, and threw him a rope herself, but the man was swallowed up in the darkness and foam. The steersmen (for there were two) were now lashed to the helm, the captain to the weather shrouds of the mainmast, and the men held fast under the bulwarks.

When Julia descended to the cabin to appease the captain's anxiety, and look after her friends, the scene that met her view was so ludicrous that, in spite of her sorrow for the loss of the poor seaman, she could not repress a smile. When the s.h.i.+p gave a lurch to the wave which had carried the sailor away, Aurelia was precipitated like a bundle of clothes into the same corner in which Manlio had taken refuge. The poor woman, frightened out of her wits, and thinking her last hour had come, clung to the unfortunate sculptor with all her might, as if fancying she could be saved by doing so. In vain Manlio implored her not to choke him: the more he entreated the closer became her grasp. The sculptor, accustomed to move blocks of marble, was powerless to release himself from the agonized matron, but, aided by the motion of the s.h.i.+p, contrived to hold her off a little so as to escape suffocation. In this tragic and yet comic att.i.tude Julia beheld them, and, after giving way for one moment to her irrepressible amus.e.m.e.nt, she called a servant to a.s.sist her, and succeeded in pacifying Aurelia, and in liberating Manlio from his uncomfortable position.

All night the _Seagull_ straggled bravely against the storm, and had it not been for her superior construction, and the skill of her commander and the brave blue-jackets in Julia's service, she must have perished.

Towards morning the tempest subsided, and the wind having changed to south-south-west, Captain Thompson informed Julia it would be necessary to put in at Porto Ferrajo or Longone to repair the damages the yacht had sustained, which, indeed, were not slight. The two light boats had been carried away, also every article on deck, and the starboard bulwarks from amids.h.i.+ps to stem. The foremast, too, was sprung, and Julia, seeing the impossibility of setting the vessel to rights at sea, consented to make the land. Here we will take leave of them for a time.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE TOWER

It is time to return to Clelia, and see how it fares with her and her companions, Silvia and Orazio. As night approached, Orazio made a large fire, which he had been directed to do by Julia, in order that the smoke might be a guide to her vessel. He then looked out for a boat to hire, in which to convey the women to the yacht; but as the storm rose, he felt there would be no chance of embarking that night, and cast about for a place of shelter until the morning.

He found a ruined tower--such towers abound on the coasts of the Mediterranean, and are the remains of places which were erected by the mediaeval pirates, who used them chiefly to signal to their vessels when it would be safe to approach the sh.o.r.e. Here, after making his charges as comfortable as circ.u.mstances permitted, he left them, and paced up and down the beach, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the _Seagull_, which, he feared, could scarcely live in such a tempest. Half blinded by the spray, he continued his watch, dreading most of all to see the signs of a wreck. It was after many hours he perceived a dark object tossing about in the water, nearing and then receding, and finally stranded on the beach. Orazio ran towards it, and was horrified to discover that it was a human body, apparently lifeless, but still clinging to a rope and buoy. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up in his st.u.r.dy arms, and carried it into the tower, where he found Silvia and Clelia sitting by the fire which he had kindled for them. The lad whom Orazio had rescued was no other than the young English sailor washed overboard from the _Seagull_.

Silvia, aided by her daughter, stripped the inanimate lad, laid him before the fire, and chafed him with their hands for a very long while, until, to their great delight, he slowly returned to consciousness. Then they wrapped him in some of their own dry garments, and hung his wet ones before the fire, Orazio supplying them with fresh fuel. Some of his native "grog" was wanting for poor John, but none was to be had.

Fortunately, Orazio had a flask of Orvieto, which he had given to the travellers to warm their chilled bodies during the bitter night; and Silvia wisely administered a liberal dose to the exhausted mariner, who, with a stone for a pillow, and his feet towards the friendly fire, fell by-and-by into a sound sleep--yacht, tempest, s.h.i.+pwreck, and angelic nurses all forgotten together. His slumber could not have been more profound had he been stretched upon a bed of down. The youthful Clelia, also wearied with the fatigue of the past day, soon followed his example, and with her head in her mother's lap, slept the sleep of the innocent.

Orazio returned to his lonely post, and after pacing up and down the sh.o.r.e in the fear of seeing some other sign of disaster, returned at dawn to the tower to dry his dripping clothes, and refresh himself after his dreary vigil.

Silvia alone could not sleep all that night, but only dozed occasionally, as she thought over the misfortunes that had befallen them. Her delicate and graceful frame had been much shaken by the terrible occurrences of the past few days. Affectionate mother! Though weary, she bore the weight of her precious Clelia, and though her position was a constrained one, remained immovable lest she should awake her. She was tormented with fear, too, for the life of her beloved Manlio, who had escaped the fury of the priests only to be exposed to the merciless waves; and then, as if struck with remorse for thinking only of him, she murmured, in bitter accents, "Ah, my poor Aurelia, to what a fete has your generous kindness brought you also!" Muttering which reflections she then fell into another troubled doze.

The Roman outlaw slept not, even after daybreak. He felt he was too near the cunning priests of Porto d'Anzo to be very safe. Seating himself upon a stone which he placed near the fire, he fed it from time to time with the wood he had previously gathered, and dried his garments one by one, with the exception of his cloak, which he had politely insisted upon wrapping around the ladies in the early part of the evening, as they were but-indifferently protected from the cold. Orazio was gayly dressed in a dark velvet suit, ornamented with silver b.u.t.tons; gaiters buckling at the knee covered a comparatively small and well-shaped foot, and displayed his well-formed leg to advantage; a black cravat was knotted round his handsome throat, and a red satin handkerchief, loosely tied, fell upon his wide shoulders; a black hat, resembling in shape those worn by the Calabrians, nattily inclined a little to the right, crowned his head; a leathern powder-bag, embroidered with silk and silver, slung round his waist, in the band of which were placed two revolvers and a broad-bladed dagger, which served both as a weapon of defense and hunting-knife, gave him a well-prepared air; not to speak of his trusty carbine, which he has taken the precaution to reload, and which he always rests upon his left arm. As the flickering light of the fire fell upon him and lit up his bronzed features, an artist would have given much to have depicted what was truly a type of strength, courage, and manly beauty; while now and then, awakening from her uneasy slumber, Silvia regarded him with admiring eye, and forgot for a moment her anxieties while guarded by that faithful sentinel. It is to be regretted that our hero, Orazio, was a "brigand;" but then he was one of the better sort, and only from the force of circ.u.mstances, his sin being that, like all brave and loyal men, he wished Italy to be united, and Rome freed forever from priestly despotism.

Towards dawn Orazio approached Silvia, saying respectfully, "Signora, we must not remain here till broad day; as soon as there is sufficient light to show us the path to take we must depart. We are too near our mutual enemies here to be out of danger."

"And Manlio, Julia, Aurelia, where are they?" "Probably far out at sea,"

he replied; "and let us only hope it, for so they will be safe; but it would be well before we strike out into the woods once more to examine the beach. G.o.d grant we may not find any more bodies there."

"G.o.d grant they may not have been cast upon the coast during this fearful storm," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Silvia, with clasped hands and raised eyes.

A mournful silence fell upon them, broken at last by Orazio, who had been looking out for the first streak of light in the leaden sky.

"Signora, it is time we were off."

Silvia shook her daughter gently to arouse her, and Clelia got up, feeling greatly restored by her peaceful slumber, while Orazio, touching John with the b.u.t.t-end of his carbine, awoke him.

Then, for the first time, the sailor-boy was able to tell how he was washed overboard, and his account gave hopes to the listeners that the _Seagull_ was safe.

Our bandit, going first, led his party in the direction of the coast; but, although the rain had ceased, the wind had not subsided, and the women made their way with difficulty along the rough, uneven pathway, the spray from the sea beating in their faces. Orazio and John, who was now nearly recovered, searched for the tokens of a wreck, but, happily, none were found, and they returned to Silvia and Clelia, whom they had left in a sheltered place, with relieved countenances and cheerful voices, saying, "Our friends are out of danger." Orazio added, "And now, ladies, we will begin our own journey," turning at the same time to the right, and taking a narrow footpath through the wood well known to him.

His charges, attended by John the English boy, followed in silence.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE WITHDRAWAL

After the affair at the Baths of Caracalla, the position of Attilio and his companions became very much compromised. The traitor had, indeed, paid for his infamy with his life; but though the Government's mercenaries had had the worst of it, the police were now on the alert, and, if not quite certain, could make a shrewd guess as to who were the leaders of the conspiracy.

If, however, the friends of liberty from outside had been as ready as the Romans, the conspirators might yet have had it all their own way on the 15th of February, or, indeed, at any other time. But the "Moderates," always indissolubly bound to the chariots of selfishness, would not hear the words "To arms!" They preferred waiting, at whatever cost, until the manna of freedom fell from heaven into their mouths, or the foreigner should come to their relief, and set their country free.

What cared they for national dignity, or the contemptuous smile of all other European nations at the open buying and selling of provinces!

They were thinking first of gain and remunerative employment, and were consequently deaf to all generous propositions likely to set in risk their Eldorado of profits, though they would, if successful, procure national unity and prosperity by energetic action.

This middle-cla.s.s cowardice is the cause of Italy's degradation at the present day, and were it not for that, the kissing of the slipper would be an infamy of the past. It is the reason, too, why Italy's soil is so often vainly wet with the blood of her n.o.bler, braver sons; and why those who escape the sword wander in forests to avoid the vengeance of those robed hyenas; and why the poor remain in abject misery.

Such was the condition of Rome at the beginning of the year 1867. She might have been happy, regenerated, and powerful, crowned with glorious liberty and independence, had not the foreigner come to the aid of the falsely-called "father of his people." Now she grovels in bondage, loaded with French chains.

One evening, early in March, Attilio, Muzio, and Silvio met at Manlio's house to discuss their future movements. They had remained in Rome in the hope of achieving something, but the labyrinth was far too intricate to allow our youthful and inexperienced heroes to extricate themselves, and the Three Hundred to extricate themselves and their countrymen from it.

"There is no use," spoke Attilio, bitterly, "in dedicating one's life to the good of one's country in these days, when the 'Moderates,' check all our efforts, and basely reconcile themselves with the enemies of Italy.

_Ohime!_ How can Romans ever do so! How can they ever live in harmony with those who have sold them and theirs so many times! who have precipitated us from the first rank among the nations to the lowest! who have corrupted and polluted our city! who have tortured our fathers and violated our virgins!"

In his wrath Attilio's voice had risen until he literally shouted.

Silvio, more composed, said, "Speak lower, brother, thou knowest how we are pursued; perchance there may even now be some accursed spy near.

Be patient, and for the present let us leave Regola in charge of our affairs, and quit the city. In the country we have true and courageous friends. Let us leave Rome until she is tired of being the laughing stock of these leeches, who live by imposture and tyranny. Let us go.

Our generous countrymen will call us brigands, adventurers, as they did the Thousand during the glorious expedition of Marsala, which astonished the world. What matters it to us? Now, as then, we will work and watch for the liberty of this our unhappy country. When she is willing to emanc.i.p.ate herself, we will fly to her rescue."