The Pirate of the Mediterranean. W.h.g. Kingston
ay, sir,” said the mate coming forward, and asking the question in execrable Italian.
Again the stranger shook his head, as if not comprehending the question, and finding that not much progress was likely to be made at this rate, he turned round, and leaning through the gangway, beckoned his companion to come on deck. As he drew back, another person appeared, dressed precisely in the same manner; but evidently very much younger. A long moustache shaded his mouth, and wild elf-locks concealed the greater portion of his face, and from a patch down one side of his cheek, he looked as if, like his elder companion, he had been engaged in some severe fighting. The light of the lantern, as he reached the deck, seemed particularly to annoy him, and he stood with his eyes cast on the deck, shading them with one of his hands, nor could he meet the glance of any of those surrounding him.
“What do you wish to explain?” said the second stranger in Italian, bowing with a not ungraceful bend, and a touch of his hand to his cap.
“Oh! you can speak, can you? Well, that’s all right,” said Timmins. “And now, if you please, tell us why it is the felucca there was so anxious to speak to us?”
“Si, signor,” answered the younger stranger, very slowly; and in an Italian which was mostly understood, he then explained that the speronara, of which his father was master, had, that afternoon, fallen in with an Austrian man-of-war brig, which had brought her to, and sent a boat on board her. The officers, he said, informed them that the noted Greek pirate Zappa, in his famous brig the Sea Hawk, had lately been heard of not far from the mouth of the Adriatic, and that he had plundered and destroyed several vessels. The Austrian, he said, had given him despatches for the governor of Malta, relative to the subject, as also to the Neapolitan Government, with a reward for carrying them, and had charged them to inform all vessels they should fall in with of what had occurred.
“Then he did not tell you to speak us in particular,” said Timmins.
“Si, signor, he expressly – oh! no – not you in particular – oh, no,” replied the young man.
“Have you nothing further to tell us?” said Timmins. “Because you see, though we are much obliged to you for your information, we are in a hurry to be on our course again, and if you should happen to fall in with the Signor Zappa and his brig the Sea Hawk, just tell him that the Zodiac will give him a warm reception if he attempts to play off any of his tricks upon her.”
“You don’t know the pirate,” exclaimed the young man vehemently, “he – ”
“Do you know him?” said Timmins, fixing his eye upon him. The man’s glance quailed before that of the stout sailor.
“Oh no, signor, I don’t know him – I have heard of him though.”
“Oh! is that it?” said the mate, interpreting what he heard to the captain.
“Well, just ask him and his father if they will come down below, and take a glass of something before they shove off,” said Bowse.
A few words were exchanged between the two strangers in a low tone, and there appeared to be some hesitation on the part of the elder; but, at last, they consented, and followed the master into an outer cabin, which he had retained as his own, and where he and his mate messed. A door from it opened into the cabins engaged by the colonel, who, when he saw the strangers, retired also with his niece into their cabin.
As the door between the two stood open, all that took place in one could be heard in the other.
“Let the Italians come in here, Mr Bowse,” said the colonel, from the inner cabin. “I will give them a glass of sherry which they will like better than rum and water, and it will do them more good than their own thin wash.”
When the strangers, who, directed by the signs made by the master, found themselves in the presence of a lady, they stood somewhat abashed, it seemed, and bowed respectfully as they quaffed off the wine offered to them. The bright light which was shed from a lamp hanging from the deck seemed also much to annoy their eyes, long accustomed to darkness, and they kept their faces shaded by their hands during the short time they were in the cabin, so that little or nothing of their feature? could be seen.
For an instant, however, the eyes of the youngest fell on Ada, and, at that moment, there gleamed in them a peculiar expression, which she could not help remarking; but what it meant to say, she was at a loss to comprehend. It was certainly a look of intelligence, as if he expected to be understood; but there was also blended with it an expression of admiration, pity, and regret, which further puzzled her. At all events, she was convinced that, by that look, he intended to convey some meaning, which he dared not otherwise explain.
The strangers remained scarcely a minute below, and respectfully wishing the occupants of the cabin a good evening, they took their leave. The elder went first, and as the second followed, he appeared to stumble at the door. As he did so, he let a folded paper fall from his hand, and, at the same instant, he gave a hurried glance at Ada over his shoulder. Before she had time to tell him of his loss, he had sprung up the companion-ladder. The strangers were quickly in their boat, which, with rapid strokes, pulled back towards the speronara.
“Up with the helm, my lad,” exclaimed the captain, in a hurried tone, to the man at the wheel, as soon as the boat left the side, “haul aft the head sheets – ease off the main sheet; Mr Timmins, we’ll keep her on her right course.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the mate – shouting as the brig’s head fell off, “square away the head yards, my men; come, be sharp about it.”
“And what do you think, Timmins, of those fellows’ account of the Austrian brig and the pirate? It seems somewhat strange, doesn’t it?” said Bowse, as he walked the deck with his first officer as soon as they had put the ship on her former course. The speronara still lay hove to right astern, her outline every instant becoming more indistinct as the brig ran from her.
“Why, sir,” replied the mate, in return to his commander’s question. “I don’t think any good of it, and that’s a fact; but if you ask if I believe it, I don’t do that neither. These Italians are much given to lying at best, as far as my experience goes; and I believe we have just heard a pretty round lie, though I don’t say there was no truth altogether in it. To my mind, if there is such a chap as that Zap – what do they call him, the pirate – it is much more likely that he is on board that felucca, or perhaps he was one of the fellows who came on board us, than that an Austrian man-of-war brig should have sent her cruising about to give notice of him to English merchantmen.”
“Well, Timmins, that’s my view of the case,” replied Bowse; “I think the Austrian brig would have stood on to Malta herself, seeing she must have been almost in sight of it, instead of sending a craft of that sort with a message. Besides, what business had the speronara there at all?”
“There’s something very suspicious about it, at all events,” returned the mate. “Now, though I don’t often listen to what the men say, Captain Bowse, and they generally get hold of the wrong end of a thing, yet they have often an inkling of what’s right and wrong. Well, sir, they’ve already got all sorts of stories aboard here, about the Flying Dutchman and such-like stuff, and they don’t at all like the look of things. When you were below with the strangers, they talked of throwing them crop and heels overboard and letting them swim to their boats, and I believe if you hadn’t come up with them on deck yourself, they would not have let me prevent them.”
“I believe the people are right, Timmins, in thinking that the two fellows who stood on our deck lately are knaves, but it wouldn’t have done to heave them overboard,” said the master. “However, they are not likely to do us any harm if we keep a bright look-out, and should any rascally pirate attack us, I’m sure all on board here will stand to their guns like men.”
Chapter Nine.
One of the most valuable qualities which a person can possess, is presence of mind. Our safety and our life, and the safety and the lives of others, frequently depend on it. Some people are endued with it naturally – they never act without thought, and they in a moment perceive what is best to be said or done. Others act from impulse, without consideration, and though they