The Pobratim Part 81

"Can't you answer a question?" said Vranic, snappishly.

"She's the _Diana_."

"From?"

"Genoa, I believe."

"And bound?"

"To Naples; but Italian s.h.i.+ps don't take Slavs on board," said the lad.

Vranic did not give him any answer.

"Are you a sailor?" asked the boy, after a while.

"No. I--I have some business in Italy."

As soon as they were alongside the s.h.i.+p, Vranic called for the captain.

The master, who was having his supper on deck, asked him what he wanted.

"Are you bound for Naples?"

"Yes."

"Can you take me on board?"

"As?"

"As sailor? I'll work my way."

"No. I have no need of sailors."

"Then as a pa.s.senger?"

"We are a cargo s.h.i.+p."

"Still, if I make it worth your while?"

"Our accommodation might not be such as would suit you."

The captain suspected this man, who came to him in the midst of the darkness asking for a pa.s.sage, of having perpetrated some crime. He felt sure that Budua was too hot a place for him, and that he was anxious to get away.

"I can put up with anything--a sack on deck."

"Climb up," replied the captain.

Vranic managed to catch the rope ladder, and, after much difficulty, he climbed on board.

The captain, seeing him and not liking his looks, felt confirmed in his suspicions; therefore he asked him a rather large sum, at least three times what he would have asked from anybody else.

Vranic tried to haggle, but at last he paid the money down. The lad with the boat disappeared; still, he only felt safe when--a few hours afterwards--the anchor having been heaved, the sails spread, the s.h.i.+p began to glide on the waters, and the dim lights of Budua disappeared in the distance.

The sea was calm, the breeze fair; the crossing of the Adriatic seemed likely to be a prosperous one.

A bed having been made up for him in the cabin, Vranic, weary and worn out, lay down; and, notwithstanding all his torturing thoughts, his mind, by degrees, became clouded and he went off to sleep. It is true, he had hardly closed his eyes when he woke up again, thinking of Uros as he had seen him when the blood was gus.h.i.+ng out of his wound; then a spectre even more dreadful to behold rose before his eyes. It was the _voukoudlak_, from which he was escaping. Still, bodily and mental fatigue overcame all remorse, and, feeling safe from his enemies, he went off to sleep, and, notwithstanding a series of dreadful dreams, he slept more soundly than he had done for many a night.

When he awoke the next morning, all trace of land had disappeared; nothing was seen but the glittering waters of the blue sea and the glowing sun overhead. He was safe; remorse had vanished with fear; he only felt, not simply hungry, but famished.

Everything went on well for two or three days. The smacking breeze blew persistently. In a day more they hoped to reach Naples. The crew had nothing to do but to mend old sails, to eat and sleep. They were a merry set of men, as easily amused as children; besides, all of them were wonderfully musical and possessed splendid voices. Gennaro, the youngest, especially might have made a great fortune as a tenor.

In the evening they would sing all in a chorus, accompanying themselves with a guitar, a mandoline and a triangle.

Vranic, amongst them, was like an owl in an aviary of singing-birds; besides, he knew but few words of Italian and could hardly understand their dialect. Although his sleep was no more molested by vampires, and he tried not to think of the crime he had committed, and almost succeeded in driving away the visions that haunted him at times, still he was anything but happy. Was he not an exile from his native country, for, even if the Austrian law could be defeated, would not the terrible _karvarina_ be exercised against him whenever he met one of Bellacic's numerous friends?

In this mood--wrapped in his gloomy thoughts--Vranic kept aloof from every man on board. To the captain's questions he ever answered in monosyllables; nor was he more talkative with the sailors. Once they asked him to tell them a story of his country, and he complied.

"Shall I tell you the story of the youth who was going to seek his fortune?"

"Yes; it must be a very interesting one."

"Well--a youth was going to seek his fortune."

"And then?"

"The night before he was about to leave his village a storm destroyed the bridge over which he had to pa.s.s."

"Well--and then?"

"He waited till they built another bridge."

"But go on."

"There is no going on, for the young man is waiting still," said he, with a sneer.

After two or three days, Vranic was looked upon by all on board as a peevish, sullen fellow, and he was left to his own dreary meditations.

One of the sailors, besides, got it into his head that Vranic had the gift of the evil eye, and it did not take very long to convince every man on board of the truth of this a.s.sertion. Whenever he looked at them, they invariably shut their two middle fingers, and pointed the index and little finger at him, so as to counteract the effect of the _jettatura_. The only man on board who did not fear Vranic was the mate, for he possessed a charm far more potent than a crooked nail, a horse-shoe, a bit of horned coral, or even a little silver hump-backed man--this was a horse-chestnut, which he was once fortunate enough to catch as it was falling from the tree, and before it had touched the ground. He cherished it as a treasure, and kept it constantly in his pocket. It was infallible against the evil eye, and was powerful in many other circ.u.mstances. He was a most lucky man, and, in fact, he felt sure he owed his good fortune to this talisman of his.

Although the weather was delightful, still the captain and the crew could not help feeling a kind of premonition of evil to come; all were afraid that, sooner or later, Vranic would bring them ill-luck.

At last the coasts of Italy were in sight, but with the far-off coasts, a small cloud, a mere speck of vapour, was seen on the horizon. It was but a tiny white flake, a soft, silvery spray, torn from some shrub blossoming in an unknown Eden, and blown by the west wind in the sky. It also looked like a patch worn by coquettish Nature to enhance the diaphanous watchet-blue of the atmosphere.

Still, the sailors frowned at it, and called the feathery cloudlet --scudding lazily about--a squall, and they were all glad to be in sight of the land. The breeze freshened, the sea changed its colour, the waves rolled heavily; their tops were crested with foam. Still, the s.h.i.+p made gallantly for the neighbouring coast.

The little cloud kept increasing in size; first it lengthened itself in a wonderful way, like a snake spreading itself out; it also grew of a darker, duller tint. Then it rolled itself together, piled itself up, augmenting in volume, till it almost covered the whole of the horizon. Finally, it began to droop downwards, tapering ever lower, and losing itself in a mist. The sea underneath began to be agitated, to boil and to bubble, seething with white foam; then a dense smoke arose from the sea and mounted upwards as if to meet the descending column of mist from the cloud just above it; both the cloud and the upheaving waves moved with the greatest rapidity, and seemed to be attracted by the s.h.i.+p, which endeavoured to tack about and steer away from them.

All at once, the water overhead met the ascending mist, and then a sparkling, silvery cloud arose in the spout, just like quicksilver in a gla.s.s tube.

All the men were on deck, attending to the captain's directions; all eyes were attracted by the weird, beautiful, yet terrifying sight.

The master, at the helm, did his best to avoid it, by changing the s.h.i.+p's direction; still, the column of water advanced threateningly in their course. It came nearer and ever nearer; now it was at a gun-shot from the s.h.i.+p; if they had had a cannon on board, they might have fired against it and dissolved it, but they had no firearms. The atmosphere around them was getting dark with mist, the waterspout was coming against them, and if that ma.s.s of water burst down on the s.h.i.+p it would founder at once.