Kitabı oku: «The Cruise of the Frolic», sayfa 17
“Only that Captain Rullock and his sister and niece are great friends of ours, and that they will be highly flattered at the high estimation in which they are held by your mess,” I answered.
Mite, who had plenty of tact, very adroitly replied, “Well, gentlemen, I hope that you will come to the ball, and meet your friends.”
His invitation was backed by Lieutenant Piper, who soon afterwards came on board, and it was arranged that we should call alongside the “Trident” for them just before sunset.
Note. Let no one suppose that this incident is intended to reflect on any particular governor of Malta. It is, unhappily, only too characteristic of many of our governors, ambassadors, and consuls, and other authorities in various parts of the world, both at home and abroad. Certainly, old Tom, well-known to fame, would not have so acted.
Chapter Twenty One
A Ball – What Occurred at it – The Greek Count – Mrs Skyscraper
We were conducted by our friends to a handsome palace in one of the principal streets of Valetta. The ball-room was full of naval and military officers in uniform, and ladies in dresses of every hue and gossamer texture. Many were fair and blooming, but the dark skins and flashing eyes of a southern clime predominated.
Hearty and I walked in together. He cast a glance eagerly round the room. Laura Mizen against the field, as Carstairs would say, thought I. How will she receive him, however, is the question? We men are too often apt to forget that point. He was not long in finding her; he walked up hastily, and put out his hand. She looked up, a gleam of pleased surprise lighted up her eyes, and a slight blush suffused her cheek, and then she put out her hand with the same frankness he had offered his. All right, I thought; that is just as people should meet; they will understand each other very soon. Miss Mizen had entirely overlooked me when meeting Hearty, which, however complimentary to him, might, under some circumstances, have hurt my feelings.
After allowing them to talk a little, I went forward and was cordially received as his friend. I was surprised that Carstairs and Bubble had not found their way to that end of the room. On returning towards the door, after exchanging a few words with some old naval acquaintance, I caught sight of him bending over a lady who was leaning back in an arm-chair flirting with her fan. Her face was thus hidden from me, but on getting nearer I beheld no less a personage than Mrs Skyscraper; at a little distance was Bubble, carrying on an animated conversation with Miss Jane Seton, greatly to the chagrin, as it appeared, of a magnificently dressed Albanian who stood near them. The stranger’s face was turned away from me, so that I could not see the expression of his countenance; but the convulsive clutch which he ever and anon made at the handle of his jewel-hilted dagger showed the irritation of his feelings; and so strongly did this movement impress me with his evil intentions, that I kept my eye fixed on his weapon to hold him back should he attempt to do any mischief. Just at that moment Mite came up to me.
“This is fun, isn’t it?” quoth my young friend. “Now to my mind there’s a fine woman, the one Mr Carstairs is talking to; but by Jupiter Ammon she’s cut out by that girl there Mr Bubble has ranged up alongside. She’s superb, isn’t she? What a Juno-like head! Still, do you know that I don’t think I should quite like to offend her. She looks as if she could twitch a fellow by the ear pretty sharply. Look there now, there’s another girl, she’s much more to my mind, though she has nothing of the stunner about her. The primrose style is what I like, or the violet, if that’s more to your taste – quiet and neat. Now, that’s what I should call that little fair girl there. I say, I must just try and have a dance with her; I ought to, for the skipper made me toe and heel it with a little Smaitch girl, who was wonderfully heavy to haul about; and as she didn’t understand a word I said, and as I couldn’t make out a word she said, there was no great fun in it.”
Thus the youngster ran on somewhat flippantly, perhaps, drawing off my attention from Bubble and the Greek. I was, however, conscious that the latter had turned his head and looked at me. Directly afterwards he walked off to another part of the room. As I was neither lazy nor too old to dance, nor blind to the charms of beauty, I was soon after this engaged in moving about to the sound of music among the laughing throng. Among others, the fair Jane honoured me with her hand. I found her any thing but a lively companion; somewhat absent, and far from haughty as before. Had the avenging Nemesis of an unrequited passion punished her for her treatment of my friend Loring? It looked very like it; she answered my most brilliant sallies of wit by monosyllables, and smiled faintly, putting her bouquet to her nose – but I am certain the sweets therein conveyed no sensation to her olfactory nerves. What was the matter with her I could in no way make out. I was leading her to a seat, somewhat weary with my vain endeavours to arouse her, when we encountered Sir Lloyd Snowdon, one of the officers of the garrison, and evidently an admirer of hers.
“It’s all arranged, Miss Seton; we have fixed to have the pic-nic to-morrow. Mrs Seton has promised and so has Mrs Mizen, and Mrs Rowley, and Mrs Grey, and her daughters, and that charming personage Mrs Skyscraper only waits to be asked.” I recollected the pic-nic we had had to Netley, when my friend Loring had apparently made such way into the good graces of the fair Jane, but she made no sign to betray any recollection of the event. I was acquainted with Sir Lloyd, and he knew Hearty well, so he invited all our party to join the pic-nic on the morrow. Old Rullock of the “Zebra” of course was asked, and so was Captain Arden of the “Trident,” and requested to bring some of their officers, rather an unusual stretch of military politeness at Malta, where midshipmen, and even lieutenants, are held often in but slight estimation.
We were to visit the old capital of Citta Vecchia and the catacombs, and the grotto of St. Paul’s, and then to go on to a sheltered bay on the seashore, where the operation of dining was to be performed. The whole plan was soon arranged, and everybody was pleased. I was talking to Mrs Skyscraper when Sir Lloyd Snowdon came up to us.
“By the by,” said he to the widow, “I quite forgot to ask your friend the Greek Count; can you, my dear madam, tell me where he is to be found? I would remedy my neglect.”
“Indeed, I cannot,” answered the lady with a toss of her head; “I saw Count Gerovolio, but I have not watched his proceedings.”
“Oh, Mrs Skyscraper – Mrs Skyscraper!” thought I, “what were your eyes about when they wandered just now so often towards Miss Seton and that finely dressed Albanian?” I had missed the fair Jane after supper, and heard her mother inquiring for her. I had wandered out on a narrow terrace which ran under the windows of a long corridor, to enjoy the fresh air and the moonlight. As I passed under one of the windows, I saw two figures standing in the recess. One I saw was Count Gerovolio, the other I felt sure was Miss Seton. I would not have willingly been an eavesdropper, but I could scarcely help hearing what was said. I was arrested, also, by finding that the speakers were conversing in English.
“Beautiful girl,” exclaimed the Count, in a tone of deep devotion, “you have enslaved me completely. I sought you but for my amusement, and you have thrown your golden chains around me, so that I could not break from them if I would.”
“Oh! who are you?” exclaimed Miss Seton, in an agitated tone. “You did not tell me you could speak English. Surely you are not an Englishman.”
“Whatever I am, I am a Greek at heart and by adoption,” answered the stranger, with a slight hesitation in his voice. “I was first led to the shores of that classic land to fight for the cause of her long-oppressed children. My sword raised me to my present position. Let that suffice you. And now, lovely girl, do not longer hold me in torturing suspense. You know how deeply, how earnestly, I love you. Your mother, you tell me, will not consent to our union. Fly with me at once. My beautiful vessel waits off the coast to receive us on board, and to convey us to a land of freedom and romance; and where, emancipated from the trammels of the cold, calculating world, we may enjoy that bliss reserved for so few on earth.”
Miss Seton’s answer I could not hear. I could scarcely believe that she could be influenced by such palpable sophistry. Still I knew that there are moments when even the wisest among the daughters of Eve, thrown off their guard by the wiles of the Evil One, are ready to listen to his most barefaced falsehood; if they trust to their own strength – their own wisdom – and seek not protection from the only source whence it can come. “Oh, you consummate scoundrel!” I muttered to myself, as I retreated to the doorway, whence I had come out. I had no longer a doubt as to the identity of the pretended Greek. I resolved to put the matter to the test. Entering the house, I walked briskly along the gallery, towards the window where I had seen the two speakers. Miss Seton was there – more like a statue than a living being – leaning against the wall, with her hands pressed to her forehead; but the pretended Greek was gone.
“Miss Seton,” said I, going up to her, “tell me what has become of Mr Sandgate.”
“I know not of whom you speak,” she answered. “I know no one of that name.”
“The man in the Greek dress,” I replied, calmly, for I felt that much depended on my tone and manner.
“What! do you know him?” she asked in a faltering voice.
“I do,” said I; “and, Miss Seton, I would save you from him. He is worthless. He lives with a halter around his neck, and he will some day find it hauled taut.”
She stood perfectly silent for some time. I allowed her to remain so that she might regain her composure. She did this in a wonderfully short space of time. I suspected that her feelings were not very acute.
“You know my secret. I throw myself on your generosity, and I am sure that you will not betray me, Mr Brine.”
“Indeed, you may trust me, Miss Seton,” I replied; “I shall rejoice at being the means of saving you from a very great danger. Let me entreat you, therefore, not to see that man again on any account. Keep close to your mother, and let nothing separate you from her. Another time I will tell you his history, and you will see that you have reason to be guarded.”
“Oh, tell me now, tell me now!” she exclaimed. “I will follow your advice; but I would hear all about him, and then shut him out of my thoughts forever.”
I saw that she was right, so I told her briefly all I knew about Sandgate. She shuddered several times at the narrative. She was not particularly romantic, and fully alive to the advantages of a good position, thanks to her mother’s instruction. Though she had seen no great objection to becoming a Greek countess, she had reason to be thankful at having escaped falling into the power of a villain of the stamp of Sandgate. “Now let me lead you to Mrs Seton,” I replied, offering my arm. She took it. Hers trembled as it pressed mine.
“Why, Jane, my dear, you look very ill; what is the matter?” exclaimed the old lady, starting up with a look of real alarm in her countenance. I believe she loved her daughter, and fancied she showed it by helping her to make what she called a good match.
“Oh, nothing, nothing – the heat, I believe,” she answered, turning still paler. “I think that I had better leave the room.”
Her mother thought so likewise. I found their carriage. They lived not far off; so, following on foot, I watched them till they were safely within their own doors. On returning to the ball-room I heard Mrs Skyscraper making anxious inquiries as to what had become of Count Gerovolio.
“Never mind, we shall see him to-morrow at the pic-nic. He promised to be there,” she observed. I saw from the look Carstairs gave that the Count had better behave himself should he venture to make his appearance, which I did not think very likely.
Chapter Twenty Two
Our Malta Pic-nic – The Catacombs – The Pirate in Sight – Sandgate again Escapes us – Our Expedition with the Men-of-war – Return from our Fruitless Cruise
My friends were not a little astonished when I told them, on getting on board the yacht, that Sandgate was in the island. The question was, how to catch him. We had no moral doubt whatever that he had come on board our vessel with the intention of plundering us, and that he had afterwards endeavoured to send us to the bottom by attacking us in the polacca-brig; still no one could swear to the fact. We were not certain that the brig which left the harbour that morning was the one which had engaged us – we could not prove that he belonged to her; scarcely, indeed, could we expect to induce the authorities to believe that the Greek Count and Sandgate the smuggler were one and the same person.
“Take my advice,” observed Carstairs; “don’t let us fash ourselves on the subject, but give the rogue a long rope, and he will soon hang himself.”
We all agreed to the wisdom of this remark, and resolving to wait the course of events, turned in and went to sleep.
A large and merry party set off to the scene of the pic-nic, some in calèches, and others in carriages of higher pretensions, and vehicles of all sorts, and others on horseback. I will not stop to describe the scenery. Stone walls, and here and there an orange grove, form its chief characteristics. It is wonderful that there is any cultivation, considering that the greater portion of the soil has been brought from other lands. That which is produced on the island is formed from the crumbling away of the surface of the rock of which it is composed.
Our party met by agreement near the gates. Hearty, greatly to his satisfaction, managed to undertake the escort of Mrs Mizen and her daughter; the widow fell to the lot of Carstairs, and I took charge of Mrs and Miss Seton.
“Oh! but where is Count Gerovolio?” exclaimed Mrs Skyscraper, as we were driving off. “I fully expected to have him of our party. Has anybody seen him? Miss Seton, do you know what has become of him?”
Poor Jane for a moment looked dreadfully disconcerted at hearing the name of the impostor; but she soon recovered her self-possession, and I did my best to rattle on, so as to draw off the attention of her mother and Mr Mite, who had been admitted as a fourth in the carriage. Mrs Skyscraper looked about in vain for the Count; I thought that he would scarcely have the boldness to make his appearance. Our drive, as far as we four ill-matched beings were concerned, was any thing but a pleasant one. Old Mrs Seton was annoyed at not having Sir Lloyd Snowdon, or any other eligible gentleman, to act the suitor to her daughter.
Poor Jane could not drive away her own bitter thoughts. Mite would infinitely rather have been in the company of one of his jolly little Maltese acquaintances, and I felt oppressed at being the keeper of a young lady’s secret. At last we arrived at the spot where our lionising was to commence – the old capital of the island, Citta Vecchia, and had to descend from our conveyances.
The structure would delight a connoisseur in mediaeval antiquities, for a more ancient-looking collection of tumbledown houses I never saw collected together. Here stand the first palace of the Grand Masters, and the cathedral of Malta, celebrated for the pertinacity with which its bells are rung. But the great sight we had all come to see was the catacombs. Guides and lights were procured, and the whole party descended to them. Incongruous, indeed, seemed the light dresses of the ladies, the glittering uniforms of the officers, and the merry laughter of the party, with the solemn, silent gloom of this vast receptacle for the dead. These catacombs consist of long galleries or streets cut in the rock, extending a great distance, and intersecting each other at right angles about fifteen feet beneath the surface of the ground. The gloom, the chilly, confined atmosphere, the dark shadows, the mysterious passages and recesses, the undefined shapes which flitted before us, were ill calculated to dispel poor Miss Seton’s melancholy. She walked on, however, silently by my side, avoiding rather than courting the attention of Sir Lloyd Snowdon, who at length joined us, and who, seeing this, devoted himself with much tact to her mother.
“If you have any intention, Sir Lloyd,” thought I, “you’ll win the day, notwithstanding the present appearance of matters.”
We could hear behind us the cheery voice of Captain Rullock, and every now and then a laugh from Hearty, who seemed to be in high spirits.
“He feels that he does not stand ill in the good graces of Miss Mizen, I suspect,” thought I. “Most sincerely do I rejoice at it; for though not to be compared in point of beauty to the lovely girl by my side, she will make him a very far better wife. Her straightforward honesty, her modesty, her bright intelligence, her well-cultivated mind, her unvarying good temper, her genuine wit, her loving disposition, are certain to secure her husband’s affections and respect.”
Little did the lady by my side dream of the comparison I was drawing, and yet I verily believe that she might have been not much inferior to Miss Mizen in all those womanly qualities, had they not been crushed or perverted by the false system of education which her mother had adopted. Such were the somewhat incongruous thoughts which passed through my mind in the catacombs of Citta Vecchia. I ought to have been duly oppressed with the gloom of the place, and to have thought of nothing but ghost-like forms flitting through the mysterious passages. I do not know what my companion was thinking about, but she sighed deeply and sadly. That sigh touched my heart with pity, and reminded me how little I had attempted to do to restore her mind to a state of composure.
We had, as I said, walked on somewhat ahead of the rest of the party, and old Rullock and Hearty had just hailed us to return, when directly before us appeared the figure of a man who was evidently endeavouring to conceal himself in one of the niches cut in the rock. It had, however, been blocked up, and he was frustrated in his intention. He wore a large cloak, such as the Italians call a feriuoligio, with which he was attempting to hide his head, but the light of the torch carried by our guide fell directly on him, and revealed the features of Miles Sandgate.
He must have guessed that he was known, for he advanced a step or two rapidly towards us, but then, whatever were his intentions, he must have changed them, for he retreated as hurriedly, and was lost to view amid the surrounding gloom. I knew that Miss Seton had discovered him by the way in which her arm trembled in mine, and most certainly she would have fallen had I not supported her.
“I fear, Miss Seton, that the atmosphere of this place oppresses you; we will get out of it as soon as possible,” said I.
“Thank you, thank you,” she answered, leaning heavily on my arm. “I long for a breath of fresh air; I shall be better then.”
Sir Lloyd Snowdon was much concerned at finding that Miss Seton was unwell, and the whole party hurried to the mouth of the catacombs.
It was very provoking to have Sandgate almost within one’s very grasp, and yet not to have the power of punishing him.
On reaching the open air, Miss Seton at first nearly fainted. Restoratives of all sorts were recommended by her friends, but before any could be applied, she recovered, and endeavoured to laugh off any disagreeable inquiries as to the cause of her attack. The exertion necessary to do this still further aroused her, and she speedily became one of the most lively and animated of the party. I saw that she could now do very well without me, so I retired from her side. Sir Lloyd Snowdon took my place. He was enchanted, and abandoned himself to the happiness of the moment. She saw her advantage, and not unmindful of her wise mother’s instructions, seemed resolved to make the most of it. Still I thought that I detected at times the signs of unnatural spirits, and forced laughter, and I would not have answered for the consequences had the so-called Count Gerovolio appeared in the midst of us with a hundred well-armed followers, and summoned her to accompany him.
From the catacombs we drove to the Grotto of St. Paul, which is at no great distance. Whether the apostle to the Gentiles ever took shelter within it matters but little; the monks of old decreed that he did, and therefore a fine statue of white marble has been placed within it, and the faithful have been encouraged to offer their gifts at his shrine. The statue stands in the farthest from the entrance of three grottoes, one within the other. We looked at them very much in the way that people in general look at sights with very little interest, but thinking it necessary to give utterance to certain set expressions of surprise or admiration. The most interesting sight was a portion of the cavern which resembles the nave of a church, overgrown with verdure. It is surprising that vegetation should flourish in such a position.
When we had all satisfied our curiosity, we proceeded to a small sheltered bay, where the most important part of the day’s entertainment was to be performed. There was no great beauty of scenery, but the blue sea, and the pure sky, and the fresh salt breeze, and the rugged rocks, made it pleasant to the sight and feelings; and as most of the party had very good appetites, and tolerably clear consciences, we were altogether very merry. Captain Rullock, Hearty, Bubble, and Mite did their best to make it so. Miss Mizen was naturally very happy; so was her mamma, for Hearty had that day very palpably declared his intentions. Sir Lloyd Snowdon was happy because he thought he had won the beauty of the season; and Mrs Seton, because she fancied that the great object of her life was on the point of being accomplished.
Several vessels had been for some time in sight, but we had been so much engaged in our own immediate occupation, that neither I nor any of the other naval men had paid them much attention.
The heavier portion of the feast had been concluded, and sparkling wines filled our glasses, and luscious grapes our plates. Bubble had been called on for a song, and Sir Lloyd Snowdon for a speech, when we were somewhat startled from our propriety by a loud exclamation from Porpoise.
“Why, by the Lord Harry, there’s that rascally polacca-brig again!” he cried, pointing to a vessel which was standing under full sail in-shore.
Our pocket-telescopes were in instant requisition. The vessel in question was a polacca-brig, of the same size, and paint and build, and appearance aloft as the one which had attacked us; but still it was impossible to be certain as to whether the vessel in sight was the pirate or not. Porpoise was the only person who was positive as to her being so. Hearty was inclined to side with him. Still, what was to be done? Captains Rullock and Arden were ready enough to go in chase of her, but their ships were on the other side of the island, and by the time they could have got back to Valetta and obtained permission from the admiral, and been under way, the suspicious brig would have been far away again.
This discussion once more nearly upset poor Miss Seton, but she seemed relieved, and recovered somewhat of her vivacity when it was resolved not to take any notice of the stranger. I, of course, as she did, could not help connecting the brig in sight with the appearance of the pretended Count Gerovolio in the catacombs. He had, I suspected, been hiding there for some reason or other, till he could get on board his vessel.
After a little time the fun of the pic-nic went on as before. I, however, not being in love, nor having any lady to whom it was necessary to pay exclusive attention, kept my eyes about me, and every now and then swept the line of the coast with my telescope, while I also did not neglect to watch the movements of the brig. As she came clearly into the plane of my glass, I observed a dark cloth on her fore-topgallant-sail, which I suddenly recollected to have remarked on the same sail of the brig from which Sandgate boarded us, as she lay becalmed before the squall came on. This to my mind was conclusive evidence; but my suspicions were further confirmed by seeing the polacca-brig lower her topgallant-sails, and bring her head up to the wind. When hove-to, she lowered a boat, which, well-manned, at once made for the shore. I said nothing, but narrowly watched the point for which she was steering. As she drew near, I saw a figure climb a rocky point and waive to her. The dress and air of the person left no doubt on my mind that he was no other than the Greek count, or rather Miles Sandgate. It was, indeed, provoking to see the rascal escaping before our very sight. Had we taken upon ourselves to make chase after him, he would have got on board the boat before we could have reached him. Still I felt that I ought to point out the state of things to Rullock and Arden, and let them judge what should be done.
“Go in chase after the fellow, by all means,” they exclaimed; “we must not be too sanguine as to catching our bird, or proving him a culprit if we do catch him, but still we’ll try.”
It was arranged, therefore, that while the ladies and military men, and non-combatants, should take their time to return, we naval men should hurry back to Valetta, and take the necessary steps to go in chase of the pirate. Hearty looked at Miss Mizen and thought he should very much like to stay with her, but his manhood would not let him; so he, with Bubble and Carstairs, settled to go away in the yacht. Mrs Skyscraper made an effort to detain the latter, but her admirer was not a man to shirk work where any was to be done, so he set off with the rest of us. This time we were more successful in finding the admiral. He was eager as we could be to catch the pirate, and instantly ordered the “Trident” and “Zebra” to go in chase of her. When last seen, after Sandgate, or the man we supposed to be him, had got on board, she was standing to the southward and east, with the wind from the northward; in which direction she would ultimately shape her course it was impossible to say. Calculating that she might probably be still hovering about the island, the “Trident” was ordered, after leaving the harbour, to beat round to the northward of Malta; while the “Zebra” was to keep to the southward, so as to intercept her, should she steer a course for the Straits. It was arranged that the “Frolic” should accompany the “Zebra,” but to keep to the nor’ward of her, within telegraph distance.
“This is exciting,” exclaimed Bubble, as we bowled along in company with the brig-of-war, away from Malta Harbour. “It seems like real work, going in chase of a pirate; only I hope that he may not give us the go-by in the dark.”
The sun sank into the ocean before we had rounded Gozo, so that we were not able to see what vessels were to the eastward of us. We kept, however, a very bright lookout on either hand, so that we thought no vessel could pass between us and the land on one side, or us and the “Zebra” on the other. We were to stand on till we fell in with the “Trident” at daylight, and then the three vessels, spreading wide apart, were to continue the chase all day, and return or not at discretion.
It was at first a lovely night, starlight and bright, with just such a breeze that we could carry our gaff-topsail, and yet the cutter scarcely heeled over to it.
None of us felt inclined to go below, notwithstanding the fatigues of the day and the previous night. Hearty, of course, had pleasant thoughts; Porpoise was eagerly watching for the pirate; I was running over the events of the day, and Bubble was whistling, while Carstairs was, I suspect, pondering on the advisability of proposing to Mrs Skyscraper.
At first we had been very loquacious, but the silent solemnity of the night had an influence on all of us, and by degrees our remarks grew less and less frequent, till we were found standing, in meditative mood, in different parts of the vessel. The hours of the night passed by, and still we all kept the deck far later than was our usual custom. Towards midnight, either from a mist rising, or from some other cause, the darkness very much increased.
“If this continues we shall have to shorten sail, or we shall be running into some craft or other,” observed Porpoise, who was no great admirer of romance, and would rather all the time have been listening to a jovial song.
“Yes, indeed,” said I; “very little chance, though, of falling in with our roving friend, even should he be in the neighbourhood.”
“We’ll get the gaff-topsail off her, Mr Snow,” said Porpoise; “the brig will be shortening sail, and if we do not, we shall be running ahead of her.”
The order was given, and the hands had gone aloft to execute it, when an exclamation from the look-out forward made us open our eyes.
“A sail ahead, on the starboard-bow!” he shouted, with startling energy.
We looked in the direction indicated.
“Luff – luff all you can,” cried Porpoise, with equal animation. “Luff! or she’ll be into us.”
The helm was put down; happily the gaff-topsail had not been taken in, and the cutter, having good way on her, shot up to windward. Close on our quarter appeared, towering up, it seemed, into the sky, a wide spread of canvas. The stranger rushed on past us, the white foam hissing and bubbling at her bows.
“What vessel is that?” shouted Porpoise.
I thought I heard a shout of derisive laughter in return. The next moment, as she came beam on, I distinctly made her out to be a Greek polacca-brig.
“The pirate – the pirate!” shouted all hands.
“We had a near chance of being run down by the rascal,” cried Porpoise; “but we must be after him as soon as we can let the ‘Zebra’ know in what direction to make chase.”
