CHAPTER VII
A FRIEND IN NEED
Some of Mr. Merrick's business friends in New York, hearing of hisproposed trip, had given him letters of introduction to people invarious European cities. He had accepted them--quite a bunch,altogether--but had firmly resolved not to use them. Neither he nor thenieces cared to make superficial acquaintances during their wanderings.Yet Uncle John chanced to remember that one of these letters was to acertain Colonel Angeli of the Twelfth Italian Regiment, occupying thebarracks on the Pizzofalcone hill at Naples. This introduction, tenderedby a relative of the Colonel's American wife, was now reposing in Mr.Merrick's pocket, and he promptly decided to make use of it in order toobtain expert advice as to the wisdom of remaining in the stricken city.
Enquiring his way from the still dazed concierge, he found that thePizzofalcone barracks were just behind the hotel but several hundredfeet above it; so he turned up the Strada St. Lucia and soon came uponthe narrow lane that wound upward to the fortifications. It was a longand tedious climb in the semi-darkness caused by the steady fall ofashes, and at intervals the detonations from Vesuvius shook the hugerock and made its massive bulk seem insecure. But the little manpersevered, and finally with sweating brow arrived at the barracks.
A soldier carried in the letter to his colonel and presently returned tousher Uncle John through the vast building, up a flight of steps, and soto a large covered balcony suspended many hundred feet above the ViaPartenope, where the hotel was situated.
Here was seated a group of officers, watching intently the cloud thatmarked the location of the volcano. Colonel Angeli, big and bluff, hisuniform gorgeous, his dark, heavy moustaches carefully waxed, hishandsome face as ingenuous and merry as a schoolboy's, greeted theAmerican with a gracious courtesy that made Uncle John feel quite athis ease. When he heard of the nieces the Italian made a grimace andthen laughed.
"I am despairing, signore," said he, in English sufficientlystrangulated to be amusing but nevertheless quite comprehensible, "thatyou and the sweet signorini are to see our lovely Naples undertribulations so very great. But yesterday, in all the world is no cityso enchanting, so brilliant, so gay. To-day--look! is it not horrible?Vesuvio is sick, and Naples mourns until the tyrant is well again."
"But the danger," said Uncle John. "What do you think of the wisdom ofour staying here? Is it safe to keep my girls in Naples during thiseruption?"
"Ah! Why not? This very morning the mountain asunder burst, and we wholove our people dread the news of devastation we shall hear. From theobservatory, where His Majesty's faithful servant still remains, cometelegrams that the great pebbles--what we call scoria--have ruinedOttajano and San Guiseppe. Perhaps they are overwhelmed. But the beasthas vomited; he will feel better now, and ever become more quiet."
"I suppose," remarked Mr. Merrick, thoughtfully, "that no one knowsexactly what the blamed hill may do next. I don't like to take chanceswith three girls on my hands. They are a valuable lot, Colonel, andworth saving."
The boyish Italian instantly looked grave. Then he led Uncle John awayfrom the others, although doubtless he was the only officer present ableto speak or understand English, and said to him:
"Where are you living?"
"At the hotel named after your sick mountain--the Vesuve."
"Very good. In the bay, not distant from your hotel, lies a governmentlaunch that is under my command. At my home in the Viala Elena are awife and two children, who, should danger that is serious arise, will beput by my soldiers on the launch, to carry them to safety. Admirable, isit not?"
"Very good arrangement," said Uncle John.
"It renders me content to know that in any difficulty they cannot behurt. I am not scare, myself, but it is pleasant to know I have what youcall the side that is safe. From my American wife I have many of yourexcellent speech figures. But now! The launch is big. Remain happy inNaples--happy as Vesuvio will let you--and watch his vast, his giganticexhibition. If danger come, you all enter my launch and be saved. If nodanger, you have a marvelous experience." The serious look glided fromhis face, and was replaced by a smile as bright as before.
"Thank you very much," responded Uncle John, gratefully. "I shall goback to the girls well satisfied."
"Make the signorini stay in to-day," warned the colonel. "It is bad,just now, and so black one can nothing at all observe. To-morrow it willbe better, and all can go without. I will see you myself, then, and tellyou what to do."
Then he insisted that Uncle John clear his parched throat with a glassof vermouth--a harmless drink of which all Italians are very fond--andsent him away much refreshed in body and mind.
He made his way through the ashy rain back to the hotel. People wereholding umbrellas over their heads and plodding through the dust withseeming unconcern. At one corner a street singer was warbling, stoppingfrequently to cough the lava dust from his throat or shake it from hisbeloved mandolin. A procession of peasants passed, chanting slowly andsolemnly a religious hymn. At the head of the column was borne aloft agilded statuette of the Virgin, and although Uncle John did not know it,these simple folks were trusting in the sacred image to avert furtherdisaster from the angry mountain.
On arriving home Mr. Merrick told the girls with great elation of hisnew friend, and how they were to be taken aboard the launch in case ofemergency.
"But how will we know when danger threatens?" asked Louise.
While Uncle John tried to think of an answer to this puzzling querysomeone knocked upon the door. The concierge was standing in thepassage and beside him was a soldier in uniform, a natty cock's plumeupon his beaver hat and a short carbine over his arm.
"A guard from Colonel Angeli, Signor," said the concierge,respectfully--the first respectful tone he had yet employed.
The soldier took off his hat with a flourish, and bowed low.
"He is to remain in the hotel, sir, yet will not disturb you in anyway," continued the whiskered one. "But should he approach you at anytime and beckon you to follow him, do so at once, and withouthesitation. It is Colonel Angeli's wish. You are in the charge of thisbrave man, who will watch over your welfare."
"That settles it, my dears," said Uncle John, cheerfully, when thesoldier and the concierge had withdrawn. "This Italian friend doesn't dothings by halves, and I take it we are perfectly safe from this timeon."
Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad Page 8