by Various
IV
AN ADVENTURE IN ITALY
_A Fourth-form Boy's Holiday Yarn_
Last winter I had a stroke of real good luck. As a rule I'm not one ofthe lucky ones; but this time, for once, Fortune smiled on me--as oldCrabtree says, when he twigs some slip in my exercise, but can't bequite sure that I had borrowed another fellow's, just to see how muchbetter mine was than his!
It was this way. It was a beastly wet afternoon, and the Head wouldn'tgive me leave to go to the village. But I was bound to go, for I wantedsome wire to finish a cage I was making for my dormouse, who was runningloose in my play-box and making everything in an awful mess. So Islipped out, and, of course, got soaked.
I couldn't go and change when I came back with the wire, as Crabtreewould then have twigged that I'd been out in the rain. So the end of itwas that I caught a chill and had to go into the infirmary. I wasawfully bad for a bit, and went off my head, I suppose--for the matercame and I didn't know her till I got better, and then she told me thatthe doctor had said I must go to Italy for the winter, as my lungs werevery weak, and she was going with me, and we should be there till Aprilor May.
The Head told me he hoped I would take some books with me, and do alittle reading when I was better. You bet I did! The mater packed them,but they weren't much, the worse for wear when I brought them back toSt. Margaret's again.
The Head also hoped I would use the opportunity to study Italianantiquities. I did take a look at some, but didn't think much of them.They took me at Rome to the Tarpeian Rock, but it wouldn't hurt a kid tobe chucked down there, let alone a traitor; and the Coliseum wantedlivening up with Buffalo Bill. The only antiquities I really cared forwere the old corpses and bones of the Capucini, which everybody knowsabout, but has not had the luck to see as I did.
But I had a walk round so as to be able to say I'd seen the otherthings, and brag about them when they turned up in Virgil or Livy, andset old Crabtree right when he came a cropper over them, presuming onour knowing less than he did. There was too much for a fellow to do forhim to waste time over such rot as antiquities. You can always find asmany antiquities as you want in Smith's Dictionary.
Before I went I swapped my dormouse with Jones ma. for his revolver. Icouldn't take the dormouse with me, and I knew you were bound to have arevolver when you risked your life among foreigners and brigands, whichItaly is full of, as everybody knows. Where should I be if I fell inwith a crew of them and hadn't a revolver? Besides, I was responsiblefor the mater.
Jones ma.'s revolver wouldn't shoot, but it looked all right, and nobrigand will wait to see if your revolver will go off when you presentit at his head. All you have to do is to shout "Hands up!" and he eitherlets you take all the diamonds and things he has stolen from fools whohadn't revolvers, or runs away. I cut a slit in my trousers behind, andsewed in a pocket, and practised lugging the revolver out in a jiffy,and getting a bead on an imaginary brigand. I was pretty spry at it, andknew I should be all right. And it was just that revolver which savedme, as you will see.
We travelled through Paris and a lot of other places, stopping at mostof them, for I was still rather weak, and the mater was fussy about myoverdoing it till we settled down at Sorrento. That's a place on the Bayof Naples, and just the loveliest bit of it--oranges everywhere. It'sten miles from Castellamare, the nearest railway-station, but the drivealong the edge of the bay, on a road cut into the cliffs hundreds offeet up, makes you feel like heaven.
Vesuvius is quite near too, only that was no good, for the materwouldn't let me go there, which was a most aggravating shame, and aterrible waste of opportunity, which I told her she would regret everafter. The crater was as jolly as could be, making no end of a smoke,and pouring out lava like a regular old smelting-furnace; but she saidshe wasn't going to bring me out to Italy to cure a cold, only to haveme burnt up like one of those Johnnies they show you at Pompeii who werecaught years and years ago. As if I should have been such an ass as toget caught myself.
What I was going to tell you about, however, was this. We had been atSorrento six or seven weeks, and I'd got to know the places round thatwere worth seeing, and a lot of the people too, who jabbered at youthirteen to the dozen, and only laughed when you couldn't make out whatthey were saying. I'd picked up some of their words--enough to get whatI wanted with, and that's the best way to learn a language; a jollysight better than fagging along with a grammar and stupid exercises,which are only full of things no fellow wants.
So the mater had got used to letting me go about alone, and one morningshe found she wanted some things from Naples, and wasn't feeling up tothe journey. She wondered at breakfast if she could dare to let me gofor her. I didn't seem eager, for if they think you particularly want todo a thing, they are sure to try to stop you. So I sat quiet, though Icould hardly swallow my coffee--I was so keen to go.
However, she wanted the things badly, and at last she had to ask me if Iwould go for her. It's always so: it doesn't matter how badly _you_ wanta thing, but when the mater or sister or aunt think they want someidiotic trash that everybody in his senses would rather be without,you've simply got to fetch it for them, or they'll die.
She rather spoilt it by giving me half an hour's jawing as to what I wasto do, to take care of this or that, and not to get lost or miss thetrain--you know how they go on and spoil a fellow's pleasure--as if Icouldn't go to Naples and back without a woman having to tell me how todo it. I stood it all patiently though, for the sake of what was coming,and a high old time I had in Naples that day, I can tell you.
I nearly missed my train back, catching it only by the skin of my teeth,and when I reached Castellamare I bargained with a driver-fellow to takeme to Sorrento for seven francs. He could speak English a bit. The materhad told me the fare for a carriage and two mules would be eight or tenfrancs; but I soon let him see that I wasn't going to be put on likethat, and as I was firm he had to come down to seven, and a _pourboire_,which is what we call a tip. So, ordering him to wake his mules up anddrive quick, for the January afternoon was getting on, I settled downthoroughly to enjoy the ride home.
I have already told you how the road follows the coast-line, high up thecliffs, so that you look down hundreds of feet, almost sheer on to thewaves dashing against the rocks below. There's nothing but a low wall toprevent you pitching bang over and dashing yourself to bits, if you hadan accident. There are two or three villages between Castellamare andSorrento, and generally a lot of traffic; but, as it happened, wedidn't pass or meet much that afternoon; I suppose because it wasgetting late.
The driver was chattering like a magpie about the swell villas andplaces we could see here and there white against the dark trees, but Iwasn't paying much attention, and at last he shut up.
There's one bit of the road which always gave me the creeps, for it'swhere a man cut his son's throat and threw him over the cliff, two orthree years ago, for the sake of his insurance money. I was thinkingabout this, and almost wishing some one was with me after all--for therewasn't a soul in sight--when my heart gave a jump as the driversuddenly, at this very bit, pulled up, and, turning round, said with afiendish grin--
"You pay me 'leven francs for ze drive, signor."
"Eleven? No, seven. You said seven."
"Signor meestakes. 'Leven francs, signor," and he opened the dirtyfingers of his left hand twice, and held up a thumb that looked as if ithadn't been washed since he was born.
"Seven," I firmly replied. "Not a centime more. Drive on!"
"Ze signor will pay 'leven francs," he fiercely persisted, "seven for zedriver and four for ze cicerone, ze guide."
"What guide? I've had no guide."
"Me, signor. I am ze guide. 'Ave I not been telling of ze beautifulvillas and ze countrie?"
"You weren't asked to," I retorted. "Nobody wanted it."
"Zat does not mattaire. Ze signor will pay for ze cicerone."
"I'll see you hanged first."
"Zen we shall see."
He turned hi
s mules to the side of the road next the precipice. I caughta glimpse of an ugly knife in the handkerchief round his waist. In amoment I had whipped out my revolver, and levelled it straight for hishead. My word, how startled he was!
"Now drive on," I said.
He did, without a word, but turning as white as a sheet,--and made hisold mules fly as if they'd got Vesuvius a foot behind them all the way.I kept my revolver ready till we came to Meta, after which there areplenty of houses.
When we drew up at the hotel I gave him his seven francs, and told himto think himself lucky that I didn't hand him over to the police. He hadpartly recovered by then, and had the cheek to grin and say--
"Ah, ze signor ees a genteelman,--he will give a poor Italiano a_pourboire_."
But I didn't.
I've often wondered since if he really meant to do for me. Anyhow, myrevolver saved me, and was worth a dormouse.