The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “Yes, that looks easy enough,” Francis agreed. “It seems such a regular slope, that one could almost ride up; but I dare say, when you are close you would find all sorts of difficult places.”

  “I should like to try,” Matteo said. “What a grand view there would be from the top!

  “Is the port we are going to try first, captain, anywhere near the foot of the mountain?”

  “No, I am going round the southern part of the island. On this side the ground is less fertile, and we should have difficulty in obtaining a cargo. But even were we to put into a port on this side, you would not be able to climb Mount Etna.

  “Sicily has been an unfortunate country. Its great natural wealth has rendered it an object of desire, to all its neighbours. It was the battleground of the Romans and Carthaginians. Pisa, Genoa, and Naples have all contended for its possession; and the Moors frequently make descents upon its coasts. It has seldom enjoyed a peaceful and settled government. The consequence is that general lawlessness prevails in the districts remote from the towns; while in the forests that clothe the side of Mount Etna, there are numerous hordes of bandits who set the authorities at defiance, levy blackmail throughout the surrounding villages, and carry off wealthy inhabitants, and put them to ransom. No one in his senses would think of ascending that mountain, unless he had something like an army with him.”

  “I should like to try it, all the same,” Matteo asserted. “If there are woods all over it, it is not likely one would happen to meet with any of these people. I should like, above all things, to get to the top of that hill.”

  “It would be harder work than you think, young sir,” the captain said. “You have no idea from this distance what the height is, or what a long journey it is to ascend to the top. I have been told that it is a hundred and twenty miles round its foot.”

  “I don’t think you would like it, Matteo, if you were to try it,” Francis said laughing. “You know you are as lazy as you can be, and hate exerting yourself. I am sure that, before you got a quarter the distance up that mountain, you would have only one wish, and that would be to be at the bottom again.”

  “I don’t know,” Matteo said. “I hate exerting myself uselessly—wasting my strength, as you do, in rowing at an oar, or anything of that sort; but to do anything great, I would not mind exertion, and would go on until I dropped.”

  “That is all very well, Matteo; but to do anything great, you have got to do small things first. You could never wield a sword for five minutes unless you had practised with it; and you will never succeed in accomplishing any feats requiring great strength and endurance, if you do not practise your muscles on every occasion. You used to grumble at the height when you came up to my room in the old house, and I suppose Etna is something like two hundred times as high.”

  “That does sound a serious undertaking,” Matteo said, laughing; “and I am afraid that I shall never see the view from the top of Etna. Certainly I shall not, if it will be necessary beforehand to be always exercising my muscles by running up the stairs of high houses.”

  The next day they were off Girgenti, the port at which they hoped to obtain a cargo. They steered in until they encountered a fishing boat, and learned from those on board that there was no Genoese vessel in port, nor, as far as the men knew, any state galleys anywhere in the neighbourhood. Obtaining this news, they sailed boldly into the port and dropped anchor.

  Francis, who had received before starting a list of houses with whom Signor Polani was in the habit of doing business, at once rowed ashore, Matteo and Giuseppi accompanying him. His business arrangements were soon completed. The harvest had been a good one, and there was an abundance of corn to be had at a cheap rate. In half an hour he arranged for as large a quantity as the Lido would carry.

  The work of loading soon commenced, and in four days the ship was full up to the hatches. Francis went on shore to settle the various accounts, and was just making the last payment when Matteo ran into the office.

  “Four Genoese galleys are entering the bay!”

  Francis ran out, and saw four Genoese galleys rowing in.

  “It is too late to escape. Even were we empty we could not get away; but laden as the Lido is, they could row three feet to her one.”

  “What shall we do, Francisco?”

  Francis stood for half a minute thinking.

  “You had better stay here, Matteo. I will row out to the ship, and send most of the men on shore. If they seize the ship, they may not take those on board prisoners; but if they do, there is no reason why they should take us all.”

  “You had better come on shore too, Francisco, and leave the captain in charge. You can do no good by staying there; and Polani would be more concerned at your capture than he would at the loss of a dozen ships. If you could do any good, it would be different; but as it is, it would be foolish to risk capture.”

  “I will see,” Francis said. “At any rate, do you stop here.”

  Jumping into a boat, he rowed towards the Lido, which was lying but a cable’s length from the shore. As he neared her, he shouted to the men to lower the boats.

  “Captain,” he said, “I do not know whether there is any danger of being captured by the Genoese. But it is useless to run any unnecessary risk. Therefore send all the crew but three or four men on shore. If the Genoese board us, we have our papers as peaceful traders buying wheat; but if, in spite of that, they capture us, we must take our chance.”

  “Surely you are not thinking of stopping, Messer Francisco. The padrone would be terribly vexed if you were taken. He specially ordered me, before we started, to see that no unnecessary risk was run, and to prevent you from thrusting yourself into danger. Therefore, as captain of the ship, I must insist that you go on shore.”

  “I think I ought to stay here,” Francis said.

  “I do not think so,” the captain said firmly, “and I will not suffer it. I have to answer for your safety to the padrone; and if you do not go by yourself, I shall order the men to put you into one of the boats by force. I mean no disrespect; but I know my duty, and that is to prevent you from falling into the hands of the Genoese.”

  “I will not oblige you to use force, captain,” Francis said, smiling, “and will do as you wish me.”

  In five minutes the men were all—save four, whom the captain had selected—in the boat, and rowing towards shore. Matteo was awaiting them when they landed.

  “That is right, Francisco. I was half afraid you would stay on board. I know how obstinate you are whenever you take a thing into your head.”

  “The captain was more obstinate still, Matteo, and said that unless I came away he would send me on shore by force; but I don’t like deserting the ship.”

  “That is nonsense, Francisco. If the Genoese take her, they take her, and your remaining on board could not do any good. What are you going to do now?”

  “We will at once leave the place with the men, Matteo, and retire into the country behind. It is not likely the Genoese would land and seize us here, but they might do so, or the inhabitants, to please Genoa, might seize us and send us on board. At any rate, we shall be safer in the country.”

  The men had, by the captain’s orders, brought their arms ashore on leaving the ship. This was the suggestion of Francis, who said that, were they unarmed, the people might seize them and hand them over to the Genoese. At the head of this party, which was about fifty strong, Francis marched up through the little town and out into the country. He had really but little fear, either that the Genoese would arrest them on shore, or that the people would interfere with them, for they would not care to risk the anger of Venice by interfering in such a matter. He thought it probable, however, that if his men remained in the town, broils would arise between them and any of the Genoese sailors who might land.

  As soon as the Genoese galleys came up to the head of the bay, a boat was lowered and rowed to the Lido, at whose masthead the Venetian flag was flying. An officer, followed by six men, climbe
d up on to the deck.

  “Are you the captain of this ship?” the officer asked as the captain approached him.

  “I am,” the captain said.

  “What ship is it?”

  “It is the Lido, the property of Messer Polani, a merchant of Venice, and laden with a cargo of wheat.”

  “Then you are my prisoner,” the Genoese said. “I seize this vessel as lawful prize.”

  “There is peace between the republics,” the captain said. “I protest against the seizure of this ship, as an act of piracy.”

  “We have news that several of our ships have been seized by the Venetians,” the officer said; “and we therefore capture this vessel in reprisal. Where are your crew?”

  “There are only four on board,” the captain said. “We have filled up our cargo, and were going to sail tomorrow, and therefore the rest of the crew were allowed to go on shore; and I do not think it is likely that they will return now,” for one of the Genoese sailors had hauled down the flag of Venice, and had replaced it with that of Genoa.

  The Genoese officer briefly examined the vessel.

  “Whom have you here on board with you?” he asked, struck with the furniture and fittings of Francis’ cabin.

  “This is the cabin of Matteo Giustiniani, a young noble of Venice, who is making his first voyage, in order to fit himself for entering the service of the state: and of Francisco Hammond, who stands high in the affections of my patron.”

  The Genoese uttered an angry exclamation. The name of Polani was well known in Genoa as one of the chief merchants of Venice and as belonging to a ducal house, while the family of Giustiniani was even more illustrious; and had these passengers fallen into his hands, a ransom might have been obtained greatly exceeding the value of the Lido and her cargo. Leaving four of his men on board he went off to the galley of the officer commanding the fleet, and presently returned with a large boat full of sailors.

  “You and your men can go ashore,” he said to the captain. “The admiral does not deem you worth the trouble of carrying to Genoa; but be quick, or you will have to swim to shore.”

  As the Lido’s boats had all gone ashore, the captain hailed a fishing boat which was passing, and with the four sailors was rowed to shore, well content that he had escaped the dungeons of Genoa. He rightly imagined that he and his men were released solely on account of the paucity of their numbers. Had the whole crew been captured, they would have been carried to Genoa; but the admiral did not care to bring in five prisoners only, and preferred taking the ship alone.

  Francis, with his party, followed the line of the coast, ascending the hills which rose steeply from the edge of the sea at a short distance from the town. He had brought with him from the town a supply of food sufficient for four or five days, and encamped in a little wood near the edge of the cliff. From this they had a view of the port, and could watch the doings of the Genoese galleys. Fires were lit and meat cooked over them; and just as the meal was prepared the captain and the four sailors joined them, amid a hearty cheer from the crew.

  “I have made my protest,” the captain said as he took his seat by the side of Francis, “and the padrone can make a complaint before the council if he thinks fit to do so; but there is small chance that he will ever recover the Lido, or the value of her cargo.”

  “I don’t like losing the ship,” Francis said. “Of course, it is only a stroke of bad fortune, and we could neither fly nor defend ourselves. Still one hates arriving home with the story that one has lost the ship.”

  “Yes,” the captain agreed. “Messer Polani is a just man, yet no one cares to employ men who are unlucky; and the worst of it is that the last ship I commanded was wrecked. Many men would not have employed me again, although it wasn’t my fault. But after this second affair, in a few months’ time, I shall get the name of being an unlucky man, and no one in his senses would employ a man who is always losing his ships.”

  “Do you think that there is any chance of our recapturing it, captain?”

  “Not the least in the world,” the captain replied. “Even supposing that we could get on board, and overpower the Genoese without being heard, and get her out of the port without being seen, we should not get away. Laden as she is with grain, she will sail very slowly, and the Genoese would overtake her in a few hours; and I needn’t tell you that then there would be very little mercy shown to any on board.”

  “That is true enough,” Francis said. “Still, I do not like the idea of losing the Lido.”

  After the meal was over Francis rose, and asked Matteo to accompany him on a stroll along the cliffs, Giuseppi as usual following them. They walked along until they rounded the head of the bay, and were able to look along the coast for some distance. It was steep and rocky, and worn into a number of slight indentations. In one of these rose a ledge of rocks at a very short distance from the shore.

  “How much further are we going, Francis?” Matteo said when they had walked a couple of miles.

  “About a quarter of a mile, Matteo. I want to examine that ledge of rocks we saw from the first point.”

  “What on earth do you want to look at them for, Francis? You certainly are the most curious fellow I ever met. You scoffed at me when I said I should like to go up Mount Etna, and now here you are, dragging me along this cliff, just to look at some rocks of no possible interest to any one.”

  “That is the point to be inquired into, Matteo. I think it’s possible they may prove very interesting.”

  Matteo shrugged his shoulders, as he often did when he felt too lazy to combat the eccentric ideas of his English friend.

  “There we are,” Francis said at last, standing on the edge of the cliff and looking down. “Nothing could be better.”

  “I am glad you think so, Francisco,” Matteo said, seating himself on the grass. “I hope you intend to stay some little time to admire them, for I own that I should like a rest before I go back.”

  Francis stood looking at the rocks. The bay was a shallow one, and was but five or six hundred yards from point to point, the rocks rising nearly in a line between the points, and showing for about two hundred yards above water, and at about the same distance from the cliffs behind them.

  “What height do you think those rocks are above the water, Giuseppi?”

  “It is difficult to judge, signor, we are so high above them; but I should think in the middle they must be ten or twelve feet.”

  “I should think it likely they were more than double that, Giuseppi; but we shall see better when we get down to the bottom. I daresay we shall find a place where we can clamber down somewhere.”

  “My dear Francisco,” Matteo said earnestly, “is anything the matter with you? I begin to have doubts of your sanity. What on earth do these rocks matter to you, one way or the other? or what can you care whether they are thirty inches or thirty feet above the water?

  “They do not differ from other rocks, as far as I can see. They are very rugged and very rough, and would be very awkward if they lay out at sea instead of in this little bay, where they are in nobody’s way. Is it not enough that you have tramped two miles to have a look at them, which means four miles, as we have got to return somehow? And now you talk about climbing down that break-neck cliff to have a look at them close!”

  But Francis paid no attention to Matteo’s words. He was gazing down into the clear smooth water, which was so transparent that every stone and pebble at the bottom could be seen.

  “The water looks extremely shallow, Giuseppi. What do you think?”

  “It seems to me, signor, that there is not a foot of water between the rocks and the shore.”

  “It does look so, Giuseppi; but it is possible that the transparency of the water deceives us, and that there may be ten or twelve feet of water there. However, that is what we must go down and find out. Now the first thing is to look about, and find some point at which we can get down to the beach.”

  “Well, I will lie down and take a nap till you co
me back,” Matteo said in a tone of resignation. “I have no interest either in these rocks or in the water; and as far as I can protest, I do so against the whole proceeding, which to me savours of madness.”

  “Don’t you understand, you silly fellow, what I am thinking about?” Francis said impatiently.

  “Not in the smallest degree, Francisco; but do not trouble to tell me—it makes no matter. You have some idea in your head. Carry it out by all means; only don’t ask me to cut my hands, tear my clothes, and put myself into a perspiration by climbing down that cliff.”

  “My idea is this, Matteo. There is no chance of carrying off the Lido by speed from the Genoese; but if we could get her out of the bay we might bring her round here and lay her behind those rocks, and the Genoese would pass by without dreaming she was there. Half a mile out those rocks would look as if they form part of the cliff, and none would suspect there was a passage behind them.”

  “That is something like an idea!” Matteo said, jumping to his feet. “Why did you not tell me of it before? You have quite alarmed me. Seriously, I began to think that you had become a little mad, and was wondering whether I had not better go back and fetch the captain and some of his men to look after you.

  “Now let us look at your rocks again. Why, man, there is not water enough to float a boat between them and the shore, much less the Lido, which draws nine foot of water now she is loaded.”

  “I don’t know, Matteo. Looking down on water from a height is very deceiving. If it is clear and transparent, there is nothing to enable you to judge its depth. At any rate it is worth trying. Before we go down, we will cut some long stiff rods with which we can measure the depth. But we have first to find a place where we can get down to the water.”

  After a quarter of an hour’s search, they found a point where the descent seemed practicable. A little stream had worn a deep fissure in the face of the rock. Shrubs and bushes had grown up in the crevices and afforded a hold for the hands, and there appeared no great difficulty in getting down. Before starting they cut three stiff slender rods twelve feet in length. They then set to work to make the descent. It was by no means difficult, and in a few minutes they stood by the edge of the water.