The Pobratim: A Slav Novel. Jones P.
blow was a terrible one; for days he seemed to be stunned by it. Little by little, however, it changed the current of his thoughts. He shortly afterwards gave up to the Church his ill-gotten wealth, except the Chios estate, of which he had made me a gift. Then he became a caloyer, or Greek monk, and once a year he went on a pilgrimage to Mostar, to pray upon my brother's tomb. From sinner he turned saint; but he pined like a wild bird in a cage. He lingered for some time and then he died at Mostar, where he was buried by the side of the zaptieh whom he had killed.
"We had now been to Chios to look after our vineyards and our orange groves; but I must say that this island, where I was born, is no home for me. I have lived away from it the whole of my lifetime, and the remembrances which it brings back to my mind are anything but pleasant. We were on our way to Nona, and had almost reached the goal of our voyage when that dreadful storm overtook us, and had it not been for your kindness and bravery we should all have been lost."
Evening had set in when Giulianic finished the story of his life, just when the walls of Zara were in sight; but as it was too late to land, we spent New Year's night on board the Spera in Dio.
CHAPTER V
DUCK SHOOTING AT NONA
The weather was clear and bright on the second day of the year. The sea was not only calm, but of the most beautiful turquoise blue, not the slightest cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the sun's rays were as sparkling and as warm as if it had been a glowing day in the latter part of April instead of early January. Nature looked refreshed and coquettishly radiant; her beauty was enhanced by the storm of the day before.
The red-tiled roofs of the higher houses, such as convents and public buildings, the domes and spires of churches, peeped slily over the town walls of Zara, and the brig, the Spera in Dio, which that morning lay at anchor by the wharf opposite the principal gate, the Porta San Grisogono, or Porta del Mare, as it is also called.
On the pier, along the wharf, on the strand, and within the narrow street, a motley crowd is to be seen; everyone is gaily decked out in festive apparel; this sight is one that would have rejoiced a painter, for few towns present such a variety of dresses as Zara. There were fair Morlacchi in white woollen clothes, their trousers fitting them like tights, with their reddish hair plaited into a little pig-tail; tall and swarthy, long-moustachioed pandours, handsome warlike men, that any stranger might mistake for Turks, their coats laced and waistcoats covered with silver buttons, bugles and large coins, glittering in the sunshine, that make them look, at a distance, as if dressed in armour; then there were peasants, whose cottages are built on the neighbouring reefs, clad in tight blue trousers, trimmed in red, red waistcoats laced in yellow, and brown jackets embroidered in various colours; country girls in green dresses, red stockings and yellow shoes. These men and women all wear shirts and chemises prettily stitched and worked in all possible colours of silks and cottons. Some of these embroideries of flowers and arabesques are of the richest dyes, and the cherry-red is mingled with ultramarine blue and leek-green; they are sometimes interwoven with shells or tinsel; their stockings and leggings are bits of gorgeous tapestry, whilst the women's aprons are like Eastern carpets. As for the jewellery, it varies from rows of arangoes to massive gold beads studded with pearls and other precious stones, similar to those which the Murano manufactories have artistically imitated.
Amongst these peasants are to be seen tall, stately white friars, portly grey friars, and stout and snuffy-brown friars; priests in rusty black, priests in fine broadcloth, with violet stockings and shoes with silver buckles, priests of high and priests of low degree. Then Austrian officers in white jackets, Croat soldiers in tight trousers, Hungarians in laced tunics. Lastly, a few civilians, who are very much out of place in their ungainly, antiquated clothes.
On the morrow, it was found that the Spera in Dio had been much damaged by the late storm, and that it was impossible for her to sail without being thoroughly repaired. The little ship-yard of Zara was too busy just then to undertake the work, so Giulianic persuaded the captain to proceed onwards as far as Nona, where he could get shipwrights to work for him. Therefore, two days after their arrival at Zara, they set sail for Nona, together with their shipwrecked guests. The captain and his two mates had now become intimate friends with Giulianic and his family, who did their utmost to try and entertain the young men.
Nona, however, offers but few amusements, nay, hardly any, excepting hunting; still, Giulianic being a great sportsman, a shooting party was arranged on the brackish lake of Nona, which at that time of the year abounds in coots, wild ducks, and other migratory birds.
Milenko, though fond of this sport, vainly tried to stay on board, thinking that an hour in Ivanika Giulianic's company was better than a whole day's shooting on the lake; but all the paltry excuses he gave for staying behind were speedily overcome, so he had to yield to Uros and the captain, and go with them.
The lake of Nona, which is just outside the old battlemented walls of the town, is about a mile in length: its waters are always rather salty, on account of two canals which at high tide communicate with the sea.
The little party, composed of the captain, his two mates, Giulianic and some other friends of his, started for the lake about an hour before sunrise; and towards dawn they all got into the canoes that were there waiting for them, as every hunter had a little boat and an oarsman at his disposal.
They left the shores on different sides, and noiselessly glided towards the place where the coots had gathered for the night, surrounding them on every side, so as to cut away from them every means of escape.
When they had reached the goal, the signal for beginning the attack was given, a musket being fired from off the shore. That loud noise, midst the stillness of early dawn, startled the poor birds from their peaceful slumbers; they at once foolishly rise, fly and flutter about in all directions, but without soaring to any great height. The slaughter now begins. Soon the birds get over their first fright, and the hunters not to scare them away, leave them a few moments' respite; the coots then seem loath to abandon such a rich pasture and turn back to their sedges. Therefore they see the boats appear on every side and hedge them within a narrow circle. They are once more on the wing, ready to fly away. Greed again prevails over fear; the birds gather together, but do not make their escape. Pressed closer by the hunters they at last rise all in a flock. It is too late; death reaches them on every side. All at once, amidst the smoke and the noise, they make a bold attempt to cross the enemy's line, but only do so in the greatest confusion, flying hither and thither, helter-skelter, the one butting against the other, and thus they all kept falling a prey to the keen-eyed, quick-handed sportsmen.
At first the shores of the lake are but dimly seen through the thick veil of mist arising from the smooth surface of the rippleless waters, as from a huge brewing-pan, and everything is of a cold greyish hue, fleecy on the shore. But now the sun has appeared like a burnished disc of copper amidst a golden halo; soon all the mist vanishes beneath his warm rays. The mellow morning light falls upon the numberless feathered carcasses that dye the waters of the stagnant mere.
The pulse of every sportsman flutters with excitement; despair has given courage to the birds, which rise much higher than before, and are making heroic efforts to break through the lines. Soon the flurry that had prevailed amongst the birds, falls to the lot of the sportsmen; they give orders and counter orders to the oarsmen, and the circle of boats has become an entangled maze.
The lake now resounds, not so much with firing as with shouts of merriment and peals of laughter, sometimes because one of the boats has butted against the other, and one of the hunters has lost his balance and got a ducking. The morning being now far advanced, the sportsmen gather together for breakfast, leaving time to the birds to get over their bewildered state and settle quietly again in a flock round about their resting-place.
In an hour's time the shooting begins again, but the head is not so light, the sight so keen, nor the hand so quick as before breakfast; nay, it happened at times that the captain saw two coots instead of one, and fired just between the two; besides, the birds were also in a more disbanded state, so that the quantity of game killed was not what it had been in the early part of the morning. Mirth, however, did not flag; the mist, moreover, having quite vanished, the beauty of the green shores was seen in all its splendour.
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